#and for the sake of reach to the people who actually probably need to be reading this

[thesummerstorms]

Okay this was going to be in the tags of a reblog, but then I hit the tumblr tag limit (...whoops? I talk too much...) AND realized the scope of what I was talking about was slightly different than what the OP was talking about. So now you get this massive post instead! (And it did become massive. I researched on the wiki and YouTube and everything. Sorry!)

TL;DR: People keep bringing up the existence of the Avvar in relation to Spite and Lucanis being unable to separate, mostly in a negative way or to critique the writing choices, and I don't think that's actually a fair criticism if we look at Veilguard's characters' background specifically rather than what we as players might bring to the table.

So if you didn't know because you didn't have the DLC or didn't play Inquisition, or are new to the series, you may not know that in the Inquistion DLC "Jaws of Hakkon", we are introduced to a specific band of Avvar living in the Frostback Basin.

For the sake of brevity, I'm linking to the wiki if you need a refresher on who the Avvar are, but one really intriguing thing we found out was that per the wiki:

The augurs [Avvar mages] allow their apprentices to be possessed by a summoned Spirit and the spirit teaches the mage how to control their magic with patience and kindness. When the teaching is done, the mage must then release the spirit through a ritual that involves burning an offering and casting a taxing spell that usually requires a vial of lyrium to replenish one's strength. Weak mages unable to control their magic remain possessed and the Avvars' spirit gods watch them both so neither soul becomes corrupted. If the abomination becomes corrupted or the mage stands at risk of harming the hold, then one day the abomination is killed in their sleep

Because we learned this in Inquistion, I saw a lot of people take umbrage to the game's insistence that Lucanis and Spite couldn't be separated. After all, we know the Avvar have some kind of ritual!

... but is that a fair thing for the characters to know?

I am saving Harding for last, just FYI; if your particular concern was with Harding having been present for the DLC, that's close to the end of the post.

Outside of Harding, few of our companions in this game are from the south except possibly Bellara and maybe Rook, depending on your head canons. All the rest of them are from the North. None of them have any reason to have directly encountered the Avvar.

Now in relation to Lucanis's abomination problem, Taash and Rivain are their own thing; idk if there was help in Rivain or if Taash knew enough to help Lucanis find it if there was, or if Rowan might have been a lead... had Rivain even really gotten much time or development at all. They are a major caveat, but not one specific to the Avvar problem, so I won't spend much time on that.

For the focus of this post: Taash was raised by a mother who had been brought up in the beliefs of the Qun, and they grew up in Rivain. Rivain is incredibly far north from Fereldan and the Frostback Basin; Taash is not a mage themselves. They have no reason to know about the Avvar beyond the odd sailor's tale.

But Emmrich, Neve, and Lucanis are all northern Humans and some flavor of culturally Andrastian. The Avvar live as far south as it is possible to go in Thedas and are looked down upon by more powerful societies and governments. There's no particular reason word of their mages' practices and capabilities would reach Nevarra or Tevinter or Antiva.

The Avvar aren't super open to outsiders outside of the specific circumstances set up by Inquisition (with good reason) and you can't tell me that interacting more freely with societies lead by the Orlesian Chantry would have gone well in the past.

Antiva probably most closely relates to the southern Chantry we know. None of the Chantry clerics we've ever met would be spreading the knowledge that "hey, yeah, these people outside our faith claim they can undo possession", if they even believe it. And that's assuming that before Inquisition the Avvar ever trusted anyone enough to let that knowledge spread, given the Chantry's history of Templars seizing non-Andrastians and of exalted Marches.

(Also, how much that word was allowed to spread by your Inquisitor and their advisors following the Jaws of Hakkon DLC, if they thought it wise to spread to the rank and file at all. )

It also largely wouldn't be relevant to Lucanis or anyone in his social circles if anyone in Antiva did know. Lucanis's job is mostly to hunt blood mages who are in positions of power and obstacles enough for someone to pay an exorbitant fee for their assassination. It's doubtful anyone is going to spend the gold to hire the heir to the First Talon, or a Crow in general, to assassinate an Avvar leader.

Tevinter, on the other hand, has a whole complex with blood magic. So I imagine their mages are either hiding blood magic (and thus not likely to discover whatever secret it is the Avvar have found given the risks of corruption they are taking themselves.) Or else they are trying to set themselves apart from blood mages and extra worried by demons as a result. They are also some kind of Andrastian, and though the full extent of the differences isn't perfectly delineated, I wouldn't be surprised if they have some of the same cultural hang ups.

Emmrich is a specialist in spirits, yes, but given that Nevarra's focus is on necromancy in particular, and how they view spirits as possibly embodying aspects of their mourned and beloved dead, it makes sense they wouldn't spend time developing an expertise around living willing possessions.

And again, Nevarra is nominally adherent to the southern Chantry. We don't know how those practices differ in reality, but Nevarra and Orlais always have a "clash of expansionist powers" thing going on in the background, so it wouldn't surprise me if there's still a tricky line even between the necromancy and living possession, at least if the Mortalitasi don't want to give an excuse to spark an Exalted March.

And yes, the Chantry is weakened in DA:I; that's part of why the information can escape at all, according to the war table operation discussed later on in Harding's section. But it doesn't stay weakened (look at the Exalted Council), and I don't think it's reasonable to believe that the Inquisition's discovery would completely proliferate the North, if at all. before the conservatives in the Chantry gained enough force to quash it again. And that's if your Inquisitor didn't decide to keep the facts quiet, either for religious reasons or to avoid drawing outside ire down on the Avvar.

As for Davrin and Bellara? Davrin doesn't want shit to do with the Fade anyway. He tells Emmrich he doesn't know if the Fade is real; he is not going to be the source of any help here. We don't have a firm place of origin for Davrin's clan, but if Uncle Eldrin is still living in Arlathan, and he was a major influence on Davrin as a child, I can't imagine it was so far south as Fereldan.

Bellara, on the other hand, might have grown up in Orlais. She says something about her mother selling furniture there, but I'm not sure if that means they typically migrated in Orlais or if they came later on, maybe after Inquisition. And of course, by Veilguard, she's relocated to Arlathan forest, where the Dalish do have some small permanent settlements, which is about as far north from the Frostbacks as you can get

I know she hasn't been to Fereldan, as she has the lines "There are a few Dalish clans in Ferelden, aren't there Nuvenis, I think. Oh, and maybe Sabrae.". The Avvar are located in the Frostbacks, part of Fereldan's border, and those we encounter in Inquisition are specifically in the Frostback Basin, so far south they're almost off the map. So it doesn't seem likely she'd have encountered them directly.

(I also imagine that while the Dalish and the Avvar don't necessarily have reason to be hostile to one another, it likely wouldn't be overly safe for them to be seen as "banding together". )

The Dalish have their own culture and their own pressures specifically being targeted not only for being non-Andrastian but also non human by Templars of the Orlesian Chantry, and a large focus of their magic is preserving or rediscovering the lost magic of the ancient elves.

Why would the ancient elves need in depth knowledge of possession when they began as spirits who took their mortal forms with Lyrium not the normal possess a human process we see elsewhere in the series? (What overlap there was in those early days only Solas knows but in general)?

So I really do understand why it's frustrating as a player to know, say during the conversation between Lucanis, Neve, and Bellara about options for dealing with Spite, that the Avvar exist and have this process. Or when Lucanis asks Emmrich, then has his "man about to fall off the edge" laugh when Emmrich tells him that so far as he knows, Lucanis and Spite are stuck.

But just because it makes sense for the players to know something, doesn't mean it makes sense for the characters to know it, when considering their own societal and cultural backgrounds and lived experiences.

Of course the major hang up becomes Harding, who was the Inquisition scout that did reconnaissance before the Inquisitor's arrival in the Jaws of Hakon DLC. She, of course, is from Fereldan, and was there to potentially learn the same information as the Inquisitor.

In fact, I wondered during some of my early playthroughs if that was why we had Bellara and Neve both present in Lucanis's post recruitment scene in the kitchen and not Harding.

But if we look at the facts?

Harding was initially present Base Camp with the Orlesian professor, who wasn't interested in researching the Avvar at all. She was present when the Inquisitor and the Professor were looking into the shrine Ameridan, and then in the Hold itself during the Inquisitor's war council with Svarah Sunhair about the fortress raid. She does question some about the Hakkonite's Dragon being possessed by an Avvar God, but the specific relevant facts about mage possession aren't brought up in her presence.

The spirits leading up to the fight with Hakkon himself wouldn't likely have sounded different than other demon possessions, arcane horrors, etc, in the recounting of the fight. The usualness or unusualness of a spirit possessing an entire Dragon still has nothing to do with Lucanis and Spite's dilemma.

When asked what she thinks about the Avvar, Harding primarily discusses tales she had been told in her home village, their archers, and the possibility of riding on their shoulders. Mages don't enter the discussion, and even the Inqusitor only learns these facts if they encounter a specific NPC in the wilderness.

Now, you can recruit that mage as an agent for Josephine, but that's 100% player dependent. It won't happen in everyone's world state. So, as far as I have been able to gather, it's entirely possible Harding doesn't know about the Avvar method, depending on what your Inquisitor would have told her.

Okay, you insist, but my Inquisitor would have told everyone they could. To prove a point or out of astonishment or whatever. Or I definitely recruited that NPC, so the word should have gotten out, since Josephine says she was of interest to scholars. So why isn't Harding offering it as a lead?

Well, ignoring that DATV doesn't really implement something that isn't true for all players:

Harding herself is not a mage. Even if the Avvar or the Inquisitor were very, very open with her about the Avvar mages' possession during training, she is not going to be able to explain the actual methodology.

With the Inquisition either disbanded or in the hands of the Orlesian Chantry, it's quite likely that Harding no longer has any direct contacts among the Avvar. At best, she might reach out to the Inquisitor or Charter, hoping that their networks still stretch that far... and then she would have to wait for an uncertain reply.

The south eventually falls to megablight. The Avvar do join the Inquisitor's alliance, but looking for solutions for one specific man may not have been in the scope of their general focus, especially once they were driven to retreat to Skyhold and trying not to starve.

The specific information given to the Inquisitor states that the Avvar are only able to separate the spirit and the mage when the mage has sufficiently strong magic. Otherwise the two have no choice but to remain united, and are specifically watched for signs they are becoming corrupted and must be executed for the good of the Hold.

Lucanis isn't a mage. Whatever questions the Order of Fiery Promise, the Seekers, or Zara's experiments might raise about what's known about possession, it's entirely possible that the Avvar are also left scratching their heads.

If the Avvar only allow their mages to be possessed, and if the possessed person's strength in magic being insufficient means the ritual can't move forward, then they likely don't know what to do for Lucanis and Spite... and likely have no time to research how to help a one man anomaly when Fereldan falls to the Blight shortly after.

I will concede that this could have been made neater, in the end, by having a one off banter with Harding saying something about sending a letter to the Inquisitor or Charter to potentially reach out to the Avvar, but the conditions making a reply uncertain. Or even saying she got a reply that the Avvar said the ritual wouldn't work, but wouldn't disclose specifics in person and couldn't travel north with the state Fereldan is in.

Keep in mind, I still also don't personally think it's a major enough issue to fixate on when we know there were a lot of hard choices to be made in development due to EA.

But on the whole, the existence of this Avvar lore isn't the major "gotcha" refuting Spite and Lucanis's story the way I have seen some people insist it to be.

And let me be clear, I think that a lot of the criticisms of "Spite and Lucanis CAN be separate though!" miss Spite's role as a metaphor and Lucanis's general character arc of being forced to confront feelings or aspects of himself that he has been repressing out of fear.

But the argument that DATV lore is contradicting Inquisition lore, or that it's stupid for the gathered companions to not know a spirit and its host can be separated due to the Avvar existing, just doesn't hold water.

[daddydixonscrossbow]

Yallllll I’m in the shower and I had to pause because I thought of this and HAD to write it -

Reader surprises Daryl for his birthday (I know we never got to know his actual birthday so I’m just saying that it is for the sake of this fic)

You’ve been up for a few hours, the sun was nearly on the verge of rising and you snuck your way over to Daryl’s house.

Thankfully to Carol, and people who have actually kept track about what day it was, you knew that today was a day that Daryl didn’t want announced to everyone around him.

You pushed the door open, quietly shutting it.

You heard the sound of paws moving quickly down the steps and you turned around to see dog running to you. You dropped down, letting him greet you before motioning, “C’mon.”

You made your way up the steps, coming to a stop as you reached Daryl’s bedroom.

You watched as dog jumped up on the bed, lying down on Daryl’s chest, “mornin.” Daryl mumbles as his hands run through dogs fur, “What’re ya doin’ here? What time is it?”

“It’s early.” You step in, “How’d you know it was me?”

“He didn’t bark. He never barks for you.”

You smile, “Dog. Down.” He immediately gets up and comes over to you. You turn, shooing him out of the room and closing the door. You turn around and see Daryl giving you a look. You walk over and climb onto the bed, leaning down to kiss him, “He don’t need to be in the room for this.”

“For what?” Daryl asks as you straddle him, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your fingers work to undo each of the button up that you had covering up a surprise. You give him a shrug, “For this, maybe?” You pull open the shirt, revealing a Lacey lingerie top, “Happy birthday, Daryl Dixon.”

“M’gonna kill Carol.” He chuckles, eyes scanning over your body, “But not until I get t’unwrap the best gift of all.”

If you want a full fic out of this with more detail added all around, please let me know - I’m probably going to do it anyway lmao - here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’

[sim0nril3y]

Call from the Captain

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Captain Price has to tick some boxes and make a call to the next-of-kin Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), very soft, canon-typical swearing.

It had been a good couple weeks since Simon had been deployed. There was no denying that it was difficult to be away from him, but mixed with no contact it was miserable. There was only one thing for you to do and that was bury yourself in your art, fill the time with doing something creative as Simon would be entirely unimpressed if he’d found out you were simply moping around.

It was so difficult not to have your mind be occupied by him, worrying for his safety, worrying about his whereabouts, worrying that there were people out there that were actually shooting at your husband, aiming to kill. It made you sick to your stomach; it made you want to crawl under your duvet and not emerge until he’d returned safely… but for his sake you pushed on.

 At the sound of your buzzing phone, you rapidly dunked your paintbrush into a jar of water and then reached over to snatch your phone from the table besides all your paints – the very same table that Simon had attempted to label and line up in colour order and much to his disappointment that hard work seemed to last for half a day before the labels were covered in paint and they were moved out of their places.

“Hello?” You asked then before sneering at the mess. “Oh bollocks – one second…” You requested your face away from the device as you used a nearby cloth to dab it down of the excess colours, then placing it on speaker before talking again. “I’m sorry about that. Are you still there?” You quizzed to the unknown person on the line.

It was then that your full name was asked back towards you, a rough yet authoritative voice. “Is that you?” He’d asked, wanting to confirm you were the correct person. “Oh, yeah. That’s me.” You answered easily, feeling anxiety building up inside of you, bubbling and mixing in your stomach as your brows etched together. “Who am I speaking to?” She’d asked.

“My name is Captain John Price and I’m the superior officer of Lieutenant Simon Riley?” Oh well, that made that bubble of anxiety burst as utter dread filled you. Why were you getting called by his Captain? What was this all about? “Is he okay?” The question slipped out before you could manage to alter the panic in your tone. “Simon is fine.” He answered with an ease then, his tone was soothing and utterly apologetic as he said. “I’m sorry for worrying you…” He understood how these calls to families could bring along a great deal of panic with them. “I’m actually calling as more of an administrative task. Simon filled out some paperwork and requested that we contact you as a next-of-kin if anything should happen regarding…” The words were caught in his throat. “Him.” You could understand entirely and it made your eyes water the thought of him not making it home. “I’ll just need your verbal confirmation that you are aware of this and that you agree to it.”

You voice was barely a whisper in return. “I wasn’t aware…” This made John chuckle in response. “Now, doesn’t that sound like a very Simon thing to do…” Then he let out a small joking tut which made you laugh wetly before replying. “I wasn’t aware, but I agree to it. Completely. I want to know… I need to know everything that is going on with Simon. Everything that I’m allowed to know anyway.” You spoke clearly with intent. “Will that be okay? Is that what you need?” “It’s fine, love.” John replied and you could hear the soft scratching of a pen jotting down some details.

There was a long beat before you finally built up the courage to finally ask. “Is he okay?” And without hesitation John answered. “He’s doing fine. I got report from him this morning.” He explained but that was the extent of the details he was allowed to give. “Simon may not have mentioned this, but there was support groups for partners in the services.” He explained. “To help you through this transition or with support for anything, or if you ever need anyone to speak with.”

“Thanks.” You answered with a little bob of your head, these were a lot of emotions to deal with alone. A moment later you blurted out clumsily. “Oh, and I’m really sorry for saying bollocks earlier.” Then you cringed in embarrassment as you made the realisation. “And for saying it again just then…” You grumbled out covering your face in horror. “Don’t worry about it, love.” John laughed, a true genuine moment. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.” He informed her. “Thanks for calling.”

Masterlist | Ask | 19-01-2025

[crimsonmochi]

Personal ― S. Gojo

Synopsis. Pornstar!Satoru is used to fucking for money's sake. It's something he does often and something he does really fucking well. When he is requested to guest you, however, it shocks everyone to see an immediate energy shift.

Pairing. Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pornstar! reader, chubby! reader implied, gender neutral pronouns used for reader, no use of "y/n", smut, p in v, cunnilingus, slight choking, some semblance of onlyfans, pussydrunk! gojo, gojo is left handed canon, a little bit pathetic, and a little nasty, probable breaches of work boundaries, no beta

Word Count. 3.9k

Parts. one | two

A/N. baby's first jjk fic, be gentle </3 please give me feedback and lmk if i forgot some tags :3 reposts encouraged!

Rain dribbled and splattered on the window, the tiny water beads reflecting and refracting the dim light from Satoru's phone. He sat upright on his bed, muscular back against the headboard, upper arms aching from his last session two days prior. He had reluctantly agreed to participate in a "professional"―which, to Satoru, was just a word for more work, smaller pay―shoot with some girl he could barely remember the name of.

The result? The director had barked at him to put himself in impossible positions for the camera's sake, which left his limbs sore and not in a good way. Satoru forced the scene to end, left with his money and a vow to himself to never ever work for studios again. He hated being told what to do, especially from guys who don't actually have what it takes.

While painkillers and a nice massage from the spa below his apartment complex did not eradicate the pain, it did make it much more tolerable.

Satoru's thumb swiped across the screen, scrolling through comments from his latest post, a message to his subscribers asking for content ideas. Sure, he did not like being told what to do, but being kindly suggested by his fans to fulfill their desires was different. In the end, he was still in control.

And it probably won't land him in a pharmacy either.

The request that Satoru found came up the most was for him to do ASMR; some fans wanted to hear those pretty praises, those filthy words he gives to his co-stars, spoken to them instead. Although the idea was alluring, Satoru would rather be on camera than behind a fancy microphone in a recording booth—primarily because he was too proud to opt out of showing his god-crafted body (that cocky bastard). But then again, he could find a way to do both...

He shelved that idea for later.

Other requests were suggestions of people to shoot with. Some popular names came up, women and men he had already filmed with and didn't find too interesting. He could fake it, of course; he was an actor, it was half of his job―but he would be unsatisfied with the end result.

Satoru was about to quit reading requests, bored and uninspired until his cerulean eyes stuck themselves to a particular comment. The space between his eyebrows creased as his eyebrows furrowed. It was a subscriber recommending another star, explaining how they weren't very well known, but they believed them and Satoru would make a great pair.

The wording was not what caught his attention, he had gotten plenty of requests with the same exact sentence before. No, it was the name, your page's name―which, to Satoru, felt familiar yet distant. He hadn't shot with you before, no, that wasn't it. Yet he was certain he knew you, knew of you at least.

His thumb reached for the search bar to type in your alias, his eyelids flickering when his gaze fell on your profile, your soft face on display. Satoru felt his length chub up in his boxers, soft lips parting to accommodate for a sudden need of oxygen.

Just as his subscriber said, you were less popular than him, with less than half the number of subscribers he had and an inarguably cheaper paywall in front of your content. Memories of happily searching for his new credit card numbers to pay for your videos came back rushing to him, memories only a few months old.

Satoru recalled seeing a preview and being immediately smitten by your pretty figure, your plush thighs and your tummy, that tiny thrill in your eyes. Fuck, how he had spent half of his revenue giving you tips on an anonymous account―just to obtain a personalized picture of just those pretty thighs, fisting his aching cock to that image for days.

Just looking at that profile again, oh my god.

His eyes laid on the subscription button. He did not even bother getting on an alt account this time to press it, watching the confirmation request pop up on his screen to gather his fingerprint in order to complete the purchase. When the paywall finally went away, Satoru let out a breath he wasn't even aware of holding, his hand travelling to his boxers, palming himself through his briefs as he scrolled.

And oh, he was gone again.

Satoru had never sent a message to his agent that frantically in his life, asking her―no, begging her to contact you to secure a shoot with you. Asked her to do whatever she could to get you in the studio.

The next few days went by without a reply from your part, and Satoru was going mad. He could not remember being this nervous for anyone, this needy. In between sessions of overthinking (maybe he should have asked you himself or maybe offered something more), he found himself replaying videos of yours he had already seen, notably the ones with other men. He knew them by heart.

Those guys didn't seem to appreciate you nearly as much as you needed, as much as you deserved. It pissed him off beyond what he thought was possible, yet made him so hard; He knew he could fuck you so much better than those amateurs you were with, pleasure you in ways they wouldn't even dare.

Unbeknownst to Satoru, you were just intimidated by his offer. Too much money from too big of a creator and an offer that seemed too good to be real to not hold a catch, which is why you did not answer right away, anxiously weighing the implications. It wasn't until he, in a moment of pure desperation and haze, shot you a private message confirming the offer that you replied, shyly agreeing.

From then on, Satoru could barely contain himself, daydreaming about everything he could do to you with his left hand eagerly moving up and down his cock, breathy exhales escaping his mouth and shaky fists gripping his bedsheets. Too often, he found himself checking the calendar on his phone, awaiting the shoot date, disappointed every time that it was still the 15th instead of the long-awaited 21st. Satoru Gojo did not exactly believe himself to be a patient man.

He sent you little messages throughout the week with ideas and reassuring messages. He wanted to know everything about you, your likes and dislikes, what you thought of him, how your body worked, and how he could get you to whine and moan for him.

On the day of the shoot, Satoru was almost unrecognizable to others involved―his agent and the friends he'd stopped to visit on his way to his studio. The man people had described as cocky, overly confident, and self-absorbed was reduced to a nervous, lost-in-thought mess. All because of you, the pretty little thing he would get to have his hands on later that evening.

He'd showered three times, spent too long in his room figuring out what clothes to wear, as if that would matter, and freaked out over his hair. His hair.

And when you finally arrived at the studio with your assistant, he nearly forgot how to breathe. That, or he was purposely holding back for fear of scaring you off, this cute little thing before him. You introduced yourself, pretty eyes gazing up at him, taking a second to admire each and every one of his features. As soon as he saw your smile, here in person, he told himself he could die happy.

Well, he could die happy after having a taste of you.

You were shy while introducing yourself to him. The interaction could easily have been misread as awkwardness, and that was what Satoru would have gone with, too, if he didn't know any better (if he didn't think so highly of himself). Your softer voice, your pretty eyes, god, those eyes. He could tell you might've had a tiny crush on him as well, and he would be lying if he said it didn't make his head reel.

Your assistant all but confirmed it when you excused yourself to the restroom, admitting that you hadn't stopped gushing about this opportunity since you got it.

And when you got back, he had the most annoying smirk and glint in his eyes, looking down at you.

After discussing what he wanted for the scene, making sure you were comfortable and willing to participate―a gentleman, truly, asked you so many times that you started chuckling your answers―he had his agent and your assistant leave the studio after you agreed to dismiss them. He did not mind an audience, but he wanted this to be personal.

"I film all my own shit anyways," he hummed, hopping behind the camera to adjust the angle.

In the film room of the studio was a bedroom set with a queen-sized bed with navy sheets and a wooden frame. A sliding-door closet with mirrors stood tall on the left side, and a bedside table on the right.

The scene you and Satoru agreed upon was vanilla, but he was pleased with the gist of it. Any way he could have you is a way he'd be pleased with, however. It didn't really matter how for the time being.

You sat in the middle of the bed, your back against the cold headboard and palms against the soft sheets, gazing at Satoru as he grumbled at the camera, shifting through the studio to find a new battery with his lips pursed in a pout. It amused you, seeing a different side of him.

It was only three minutes later that he climbed onto the bed, knees against the mattress as he moved towards you, those blue eyes staring at your frame through those pale lashes. He moved to straddle you, his back straight, his body looming over yours.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," mumbled Satoru, his hand firmly landing on the headboard to support himself, making a louder sound than he intended. "You tell me if I'm too much for you, alright, pretty?" he followed in a softer tone.

You nodded, the pad of your index landing on his shoulder and travelling down his torso, trailing close to the sweatpants he wore. Satoru reached his own unoccupied palm to your face, his fingers hooking themselves at the nape of your neck to pull you towards him. His nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips with his.

Satoru had never felt drunk on a kiss until you entered his studio.

As if a switch flipped in his head, he kept you closer to him, desperate and unwilling to pull away from your lips. He breathed shakily, his minty breath fanning over your mouth.

"Oh, you're good at this," he laughed, an arrogant laugh that made your pussy ache.

"Yeah?" you murmured.

"Yeah."

The hand on your cheek moved to your throat, squeezing at the sides―not enough to hurt, just to make oxygen sparse in your system. "I'll make you feel good, sweetheart, hm? I'll do better than those fucking losers on your page."

The sweetest words said oh so cruelly.

Although it was increasingly hard for you to think, you were able to click the pieces together pretty quick, your eyes widening and your pupils dilating.

'Fourth wall break wasn't part of the plan.

Oh.

He watched.'

Satoru's gaze had changed. Deep, yet precise in conveying the exact energy desired. A short, almost inaudible gasp escaped your lips, and fuck, he fed on that, on your reactions to him, no matter how small or insignificant. It mattered to him.

Warm fingers slipped under your the black camisole hugging your body before you could even notice his hand had left your throat, caressing your skin until he his the jackpot, massaging the same breasts he had spent hours looking at only within the past week.

"Oh-ho— nothing, no bra for me?" Satoru chuckled. He captured your nipple between his index and his thumb, rolling and pinching at it until it pebbled, drawing out a whimper from your lungs.

Satoru was fascinated by what he had under his hand, taking a too-curious approach to exploring, as if he had never seen or felt another body before this point in his life. He took his time to gently remove the fabric off of your body, imagining all the ways he could bind and explore it, worship it, cum all over those pretty tits—

It wasn't until he felt your soft hands trying to discard his shirt that he snapped out of his haze, realizing he was fucking up the pacing.

Satoru latched his mouth to one of your breasts, biting and sucking gingerly while he focused on getting you out of those tight leggings you wore just for him, that truly left nothing to the imagination. He frantically worked to get those white laced panties out of the way with a tad more force than he should have, causing a tear to rip into the fabric.

"Satoru—" you gasped, only halfway acting.

"I'll get you another pair," he groaned against your chest, licking over one of the bite marks he had left before unlatching to look down.

Satoru's brain short-circuited.

Sure, he's seen your body time and time over, but that had only ever been through the careful separation of a screen, a paywall. It was different to have access to it, to be able to touch and feel.

He thanked his earlier self for asking if he could eat you out, for now, getting to have your supple thighs around his face and neck. Fuck, he could really die happy now.

Satoru caught sight of your dripping cunt, juices dripping and latching onto your skin. He felt hungry for what seemed to be the first time in his life, moving down your body to kiss right over your mound, your scent filling his senses.

"Oh, s-shit, look at that," said Satoru.

Had he just stuttered?

He nudged his nose in between your folds, brushing against your clit with a swiftness that made your figure jolt. He chuckled, moving his arms to trap your hips and pin them to the mattress, muscles flexing under his skin to intimidate.

"God, she wants me so bad."

Satoru languidly licked up and down your slit, careful to miss your sensitive bud in the meanest way. He whimpered at the taste of you on his tongue, sweet in a natural way, catching both you and himself off guard. If his face wasn't buried in your cunt, you could have seen the faint blush creep to the surface of his cheeks.

"You ever had someone do this, sweet'art?" he mumbled against your heat, lips finally latching on to your clit.

"N-No, not really," you sighed.

"Mh," Satoru hummed disapprovingly, toying with the bundle of nerves between his teeth, one of his arms sneaking away from your hips. He teased his ring finger at your entrance. "You're, fuck- fuck― you're so― taste so good..."

He pushed his finger past the ring of muscle until he was knuckles deep, groaning before he returned his mouth to your clit, sucking in small intervals as he pumped in and out of your velvety walls. Satoru whined when your hand flew to his hair.

And when you moaned for him, he was a goner. He noticed the usually loud and audibly altered sounds had turned saccharine and almost timid.

You had been faking your moans?

He snickered at his realization, breaching through the noise of your moans and the quiet slurps. "I think she loves me," said Satoru in between breaths.

"Wha-, who―"

"Wasn't talking to you, love." Satoru's words drastically contrasted with his soft tone.

He punctuated his sentence by curling his digits to find and abuse that spongey spot, earning a string of nonsense words and whines from you, only encouraging his endeavour. The soft squelch of your pussy around his fingers and his mouth was enough to drive him to buck his hips toward the mattress.

When Satoru felt your soft thighs tighten around his head, he forced himself to pull away, grunting as you desperately moved to grip your fingers in his hair, trying to keep him there. If he hadn't had such strong convictions, he might have stayed down there for the rest of his life, dying happy with his face buried in your pretty cunt.

Satoru straightened his form, his fingers pulling out to find your clit, rubbing it in soft circles. You protested, whining pathetically.

"I know, I know, sweet girl, I'm sorry. Wanna... wanna have you cum on my cock. Can y'do that love? Want you all over me.."

He was mumbling, staring into your eyes with his pupils blown wide. The blue of his irises was overtaken by those black orbs, capturing you in his sight. His chin was wet and dripping, and his lips were slightly swollen.

A gorgeous mess for you to gaze upon.

Satoru's eyes dropped down to the sweatpants he threw on earlier (and called Suguru about just to make sure it looked "casual but not fuckboy"―Suguru called him a dumbass and hung up), carefully bunching up the fabric as well as his boxers before pushing down. Hissing as his length perked up, angry and weeping pre, he breathed a little heavier than before, his shoulders rising and falling. Satoru hadn't felt this worked up in months, maybe years, all from this.

For you.

And you would not be lying saying that had to be the prettiest dick you'd ever seen.

"Shit― look at that, hah," Satoru softly chuckled. "Lift your legs up f'me, pretty, come on.."

He grinned down at you as he helped you push your knees up to your limit, delicately placing your ankles on his shoulders and leaning his torso forward. Satoru placed one of his palms behind your cranium, a small yet protective measure.

"This okay?" asked Satoru, nudging his tip against your folds, collecting your slick to drench his cock, gliding over your clit.

"Y-Yeah, this is fine..."

It was rare for you to be nervous, given that you were used to having sex, filming it, and posting it for hundreds to see. Intercourse was not something you had any insecurities about. Usually.

What caught you off guard was the look in Satoru's eyes, the way he carried himself with a gentleness foreign to anything you've seen from him.

Satoru leaned down to press kisses against your jawline, open-mouthed and delicate, exhaling as he guided his length past your entrance, satisfied at the small gasp he heard from your lips.

"Oh my god, it's even fucking better than I imagined," said Satoru, his voice strained.

He could feel the stretch, your walls fluttering to accommodate him, still so tight and fuck―the tiny high-pitched, almost inaudible whimpers that escaped your throat.

"Don't know if I'll be able to pull out, sweet girl, hah―shit―she's sucking me in, look."

"Then don't," you mumbled, turning your head to meet his lips.

"You can't say shit like that," Satoru scoffed.

"Why not? I want it."

If you were simply pretending for the camera, that was some damn good acting. Good enough to turn Satoru into putty in your hold, to shut his brain off and make him act on instinct alone, script be damned.

Satoru pushed in until his pelvis hit your flesh, his hold on you faltering in strength momentarily, a helpless expression on his face. He listened to your quiet whines, his free hand returning to your clit in hopes of easing the strain.

"Just fuckin' perfect, holy fuuuck―" he strained out.

He withdrew his fingers from your clit to taste you once more, addicted. He drew his hips back slowly, just enough to leave about an inch inside, before thrusting back in at a slightly faster pace, setting a rather slow, intimate rhythm for you to follow.

Satoru watched as your breath picked up, how the slow rock of his hips made your eyes unfocus, and your mouth hang open. He watched as your forehead started to sweat, how your hair moved along his movements.

More importantly, Satoru listened. He heard those moans, shakier and uncalculated. He knew he wasn't crazy earlier when he had the reflection that you had been faking them.

Actually pathetic, those "men" you had been with.

"You're so pretty, y'know that?" Satoru mumbled, out of his mind. Like he was a schoolboy talking to his second-period crush. "So pretty... s'not fair..."

"H-Huh―?"

"S'not fair how it's gonna be―mh, shit―over, how s'gonna be over."

Satoru angled his hips differently, aiming for that spongey spot he had found earlier. That said, he would have had to be able to think straight to get it on the first try; which he could not, not when he was buried deep inside your cunt.

"W-What―aah, fuck, Satoru~"

You couldn't recall any shoots you had done―or any sex you had had at all, actually―that felt as good as Satoru.

"Right there, right? S'that i-it?"

He drove his movements faster, his pelvis hitting the back of your thighs and your ass with a louder SMACK! than it did previously, his breaths becoming further shallow and desperate. His skin grew increasingly damp as his efforts increased, and what were previously grunts turned to shameless moans, whines and whimpers, wanton and needy.

The man was losing his mind, so unlike anything you had seen from him.

Satoru's thrusts soon became erratic and uncoordinated, his face buried in your neck, drinking all of the sounds you were making like he was getting drunk on them.

"Can't... won't last l-long, okay? M'sorry I can't..." Satoru wailed.

His hand found your breast, flicking at your nipple in hopes of making you cum faster, needing to feel you. You were teetering on the edge, and he could feel it, feel how your pussy drew him in.

"Y'know you've been― y'been teasing me for two fuckin' weeks―aah... shitshitshit, so so g-good―two weeks." He paused to groan, pinching your flesh between his index and thumb to elicit a reaction from you. "Can't get enough of you, you're so―and you know it, you fuckin' know it too, I-I know y'do."

"Satoru! So close, please d-don't stop," you yelped, walls constricting around his length.

"Y-Yeah, pretty, I know, fuck―I know, sweet thing. I got you," Satoru panted and tightened his grip on the back of your head as if to brace for impact. "Y'do know how to drive me fuckin' crazy, with―mh, you're so soft and pretty, m-makes me want to quit the business, make you my own, God, make you my pretty wife."

Satoru's mind was running on overdrive, trying to keep up with what the fuck he was saying and making sure you felt good, as good as him. No easy task.

"Shit, gonna make you mine, I promise, fuck―"

His his stuttered as he spilled himself inside you, crying out like a wounded animal. It felt too good, it was too much.

Satoru kept going, although fucked out of his mind, determined to make you cum. He lapped up the sweat from your neck, not caring if it was nasty, while he reached down to your clit once more, slapping the sensitive bud a few times, stopping when he felt your cunt constrict and clench around him, a nice little ring of creamy mixed arousal forming at the base of his cock, gliding down your ass and spilling on the bedsheets.

"Such a mess, oh my God," Satoru whined.

He gathered some on two of his fingers, wiping it right off of your skin. "Taste it f'me, pretty," Satoru groaned.

He could have ascended to heaven right then as you wrapped your lips around his digits, glossy eyes peering up at him through your lashes.

"I gotta keep you."

Parts. one | two

[illyrianbitch]

Plank You Very Much

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: Cassian gets roped into a Pilates class by you—and quickly realizes he’s in way over his head.

original request

Warnings: nothing tbh, cocky cassian being humbled, his fun lil internal thoughts

Word Count: 1.4k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

This was a horrible, stupid decision, Cassian realized. 

He’d probably tell his kids about this someday, label it as one of his top twenty worst moments—and for the Lord of Bloodshed, that meant something.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been coaxed into something ridiculous. He wasn’t proud of that. But usually, those bad ideas involved Cassian yelling “I’m in.” before anyone could talk him out of it, not… this. Not kneeling on a yoga mat in a room that smelled like lavender and sweat, surrounded by people half his size who apparently had spines made of liquid steel. 

The incense burning clung to the air, all flowery and relentless, tickling his nose in a way that made his nostrils flare with the urge to sneeze—an urge that hovered just out of reach, enough to drive him mad. Gods, he thought his allergies were bad in the Spring Court. This was worse. At least in the Spring Court, he wasn’t expected to twist himself into a pretzel while being assaulted by fragrant warfare.

He didn’t know what had possessed him to agree to this. 

Well, okay, he did know. It was you. 

With that damn mischievous smile and the way you’d batted your lashes at him, like you knew he wouldn’t say no. You’d done it on purpose.

“Oh yeah?”

Your voice had been as sweet as poison after he’d made a very ill-advised joke about Pilates not being “that serious.” All because you’d complained—just once—about being sore from a class. He’d grinned, all cocky charm, and drawled something like, “How hard can it be?”

He’d meant it as flirting, a way to make you laugh, but he should’ve known better. You and that damn spiteful streak.

“Come with me, then,” you’d said, tilting your head in that way you always did when you were trying to be convincing. “Unless, of course, you think it’s too hard for you, big guy.”

You might as well have stabbed him in his pride.

“We both know that’s not true.” Cassian had shot back, grinning like the cocky idiot he was. He’d even flexed a little as he’d said it, lounging against the counter with all the confidence in the world. “Bet I could do it no problem.” 

Because Pilates? It didn’t even sound hard. A bunch of stretching, maybe some light balancing. Easyyy. He could do this in his sleep. He’d been fighting in wars since before most of these people were born, for Cauldron’s sake. His muscles were made of steel. His body was a weapon. 

You’d grinned at him like a predator scenting blood, and he’d known, deep down, that he was screwed. “Alright,” you’d said, voice a little too sweet. “Tomorrow morning.”

He really needed you to spend less time with Mor and Azriel. Their sass and competitive streak had clearly rubbed off on you, and the result was downright dangerous. It was also, much to his frustration, ridiculously attractive. He fell for it every single time.

And now, every muscle in his body was actively trying to kill him. He was sure of it.

To make matters worse, he’d made yet another critical error at the start of class. Everyone else had grabbed the pastel three-pound weights that looked more like props than actual workout equipment. But Cassian had gone straight for the twenty-pound dumbbells.

“Really?” you’d said, your tone half amused, half incredulous.

“Three pounds are basically paperweights,” he’d replied, doing a quick curl with one arm to prove his point. The weights had felt fine then.

That didn't last long.

You'd even given him a knowing smile, one that probably should’ve warned him. But Cassian, in all his infinite wisdom and bravado, didn’t back down.

Halfway through the warm-up, his arms were trembling. Trembling. The weights that had felt so manageable had dragged his shoulders into a slow, humiliating burn.

Now, those same arms quivered as he attempted to hold the plank position for what felt like the fiftieth time in as many minutes. His shoulders burned, his thighs screamed, and sweat poured down his face in rivers. His hair was plastered to his forehead in a way that was more disgusting than it was ruggedly sexy. The surrounding mirrors of the room confirmed so.

“Engage your core!” the instructor chirped, her voice far too cheerful for someone overseeing torture. She walked by him like a predator looking for weaknesses, sparing him a sympathetic yet clearly entertained glance. She didn’t bother helping him. 

He wasn’t sure where his core even was anymore. It might have abandoned him somewhere around the second round of something called “boat pose,” which had made his abs cramp in places he didn’t even know existed. He fucking hated boats. 

“Hold that plank,” the instructor trilled. “Focus on your breath.”

Focus on his breath? Cassian was focused on not dying.

He grunted and grit his teeth. This was so stupid, he thought to himself. He was the General Commander of the Night Court. He led armies. He was built like a god.

So why the hell was he shaking like a newborn fawn?

Maybe this was some kind of humiliation ritual, a weird form of foreplay you enjoyed—watching your partners get broken down by this absurd torture you somehow found fun. Cassian had always suspected you were the freaky type. This could definitely be a sex thing, right?

“Doing okay over there?” Your voice drifted over from your mat, smug and far too amused. Cassian glanced at you—and immediately regretted it.

You were perfect. Every movement you made was controlled and precise, your form flawless as you transitioned into a side plank. Your leggings clung to every inch of your legs, your sports bra showing off the delicate curve of your back, and—Mother above, was that a bead of sweat sliding down your collarbone?

Cassian’s train of thought derailed so hard it might as well have exploded.

Which was exactly when his arm gave out.

He hit the mat with a loud, undignified thud, sprawled on his stomach like a dead fish. A chorus of muffled laughter erupted from the group of fae behind him, and he groaned into the mat. He couldn’t even bring himself to glare at them.

“Oh no,” you teased, resting on your side like you were lounging on a beach, not halfway through what had to be some kind of medieval punishment. “Looks like you fell.”

“This was a trap,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Your revenge for something.”

You laughed, and Cassian couldn’t decide if he loved or hated the sound at the current moment. A mix of both, perhaps.

Who was he kidding? He wanted to bathe in it. The only thing more pathetic than his lack of Pilates skills was his infuriating crush on you.

“You walked right into it. I didn’t even have to try that hard.”

He lifted his head to glare at you, his face flushed from both exertion and embarrassment. “You’re evil.”

“And you’re cocky,” you shot back, grinning. “I figured this was the only way to get you to tone it down.”

Cassian flopped onto his back, chest heaving, and stared at the ceiling. His wings spread out beneath him, sticking awkwardly to the mat, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Oh, I know.”

You stood up then, brushing off your leggings, and offered him a hand. He hesitated, narrowing his eyes, but finally took it. Big mistake.

You tugged him halfway up—just enough for him to feel a spark of hope—before letting go. He dropped back to the mat with another thud, the air leaving his lungs in a loud huff.

You were laughing again, and despite himself, Cassian felt the corners of his mouth twitch. “Okay,” he said, sitting up on his own this time. “You’ve had your fun.”

“Not yet.” You smirked. “We still have the second half of class.”

The second half. Cassian groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll never live this down.”

You crouched beside him, tilting your head. “Oh, don’t worry,” you said sweetly. “I’ll be gentle when I remind you of it. Probably.”

Cassian laughed, then, even as his entire body ached. “You’re the worst,” he said. But his voice was full of something softer than annoyance.

“And you’re stubborn,” you shot back, nudging him with your elbow. “It’s why I like you.”

For a moment, he forgot all about the embarrassment, the pain, and the endless torture of Pilates. For a moment, all he could see was you, smiling at him like he was the only person in the world.

And Cassian thought, then, that he’d endure this kind of hell a thousand times over if it meant another moment like this.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note: im back baby!!! how is everyone doing? so so good i hope <3

pls send the best vibes and energy my way, i have sooo many wips i wanna jump into!! lemme know if theres anything specific y'all would like to see from me :)

[raytoelicker]

xii. aneurysm (written work)

“Goodluck, [Name]!” Hu tao waved the fuck out with the biggest enthusiasm in her voice, and in return, you gave a genial smile with all the underlying of malice in it.

In retrospect, it was a harmless inside joke between the two of you to say, ‘goodluck’ to the other when parting ways; and usually, you never really give a crap about it. Hell, might even slip a laugh here and then. But now?

God, that shitty ‘goodluck’ only has one implication that is the standing elephant in the room.

Said elephant also has the appearance of a snarky little twink with grape hair. You might have flipped her off if it weren't for the influx of people gathering in the gates.

You just don't fucking get it! Usually, usually, in societal norms, it's completely within the ethical law to not piss off others for the sake of lousy jollity.

Well, not necessarily, but it's still so wrong. And so far in your life, people have been respectful enough to not push buttons, and not prod shit they shouldn't even prod at.

But..

Your palm stings under the vice grip you have on your backpack as you stomp at one of the leafs under your feet.

That fucking absolute asshole? The one that goes by the name of Fucking Raiden Scaramouche? God.

You're practically convinced you live in a fictional world where ethical laws are considered as a gag joke in the author’s goddamn hell of a mind.

Just when you thought that maybe, maybe after the whole two days of working with Scaramouche in that café would ease down the hatred running your rivalry, but no. Of course not.

It got fucking worse.

Scaramouche expressing odious hatred is one thing, yeah. But him expressing spurious tolerance in the face of others while verbally battering at you? That's, so far, the worst.

The trees rustled, leaves sweeping along the breeze as you stopped in your tracks.

..Though, you suppose it is a good thing. Because as much as the others dub your dynamic as a ‘hell of a slow burn’, you actually don't think that the two of you will be able to get along at all. Not with these circumstances.

A long sigh left your lips as you glared down on a leaf that had fallen just right at the center of your eyesight.

It wouldn't be so bad. Yeah. It's just 4 hours on the shift with him. It's gonna be fucking okay.

–

And surprisingly with all your shitty luck combined, the universe seems to be fucking on your side today. Gracing you with all the blessings of pettiness it has to offer.

Because—

“I'll be supervising the both of you to see if you two are, indeed, fit for the job. Not that I'm underestimating both of you youngin’ abilities, of course,” your grandmother chuckles, sound low and grainy, meanwhile the nerves under your skin start to vibrate and an antagonistic thrill runs over your body, “I just need finalization to really put you on the Friday and Saturday job.”

And as your grandmother arranges all the papers necessary, a malicious grin reaches all the way to your face.

–

When the familiar sound of bell chimes echo in the interior at sharp 4:00PM, not even 30 minutes since the epiphany of the Holy Grail, you know exactly who arrived.

It's also then that the same malicious grin creeps to your face as you turn to the fuming man stomping all the way to the counter.

“You fuckasser! I told you this morning to leave your fucking doors unlocked—” he abruptly pauses, shock dawning on his face as his eyes set on to the person behind you, “.. oh. hey, granny.”

Nanny to granny, huh?

Silence stretched on as Scaramouche darted his two fucking eyes between you and one miniscule movement for the person, who, hopefully, is probably fuming right now, before a small smile rests on top of the Asshole’s lips.

An awfully sweet tone comes out, “ah, apologies for my crude manner. I.. had a rough day earlier.”

What.

The sound that comes out of your lips upon that.. godforsaken of an excuse is ugly and dirty. And just as you're about to look at your beloved grandmother and call out for his bullshit because it's so fucking obvious—

A chuckle.

Did I hear it wrong? You blinked. Are you having auditory hallucinations now?

Your skin rattled, blinking in a concerning amount for a split second before turning heads and—

What the living motherfucking fuck.

Your grandmother is absolutely having the time of her life believing the shittiest bullshit you've ever heard up to date.

What. The fuck.

For the 5 minutes that you tuned out and tuned in into, there's tidbits of them getting the fuck along by conversing about fucking flour of all shit, Scaramouche's disgustingly honey tone, and what the fuck!? He's a kind man!?

It's up to exactly 7 minutes of standing in absolute consternation that your grandmother takes the shitty pleasure of forcing you into the conversation by putting her wrinkly and soft hand on your bicep, just resting there. “I'm sure the both of you will get along, right, dear?”

It's not gonna be fucking okay.

–

Okay, nevermind. You're absolutely gonna be okay.

A wheeze comes out of the corner as you grasp on the cup perched over the counter and oh my god, did he just fucking bump into me again!?

“Stop bumping into me!”

“You're bumping into me, ass–” a snarl, a hiss, a whatever sound is he even making, “assarita’s stinky as–butthole!”

Another wheeze as you froze, clutching onto the cup in white knuckles before an ugly, “pftft” resonated in the space between you and the Asshole. Your grandmother cackles in the corner, conversing with a regular, “doesn’t he have a lot of strange monikers for my dearest?”

Strange monikers. You snorted again.

Three hours of watching Scaramouche suffer.

Familiar thrill rushes to your nerves like high-blood and you chuckle pettily to the man beside you while handing over the wrinkled cup to an oblivious young lady, “how's that for Mr. Polite, huh? Strange monikers, how adorable.”

Silently and slowly, his gaze flickered to you, a recognizable challenging glint in them as his lips tugged into a smirk you knew too well, “how adorable of you to also get 89 in a physics test you swore to beat me over, huh, fruitcake?”

Okay, fuck him.

“Haha, is that so?” You viciously clicked at the button, coffee dripping slowly into the cup, “at least I don't look constipated but I guess that's just me, right?”

Again, sweet tone that you fucking hate, “you’ve been eyeing that guy for awhile, haven't you? You should date him.”

The second to the last word is loud.

So, so loud in such a deliberate way. Your face burns.

“What!?” a few hollers in shock.

Again, your face burns.

“No! No! It's not—” a snicker just right beside you as another customer was tended to, “it’s not like that! I'm not interested in him! I don't even know him!”

Said student tilts his head at an exact 45° degree, probably having not heard of your wailing and flailing.

As you writhe uselessly under the whimsy teasings and coos, your grandmother, who finally got the situation after having same regular explain to her, speaks up in genuine fucking confusion and curiosity, “oh? I thought you and Scaramouche here were dating?”

And-

Your world crashes the fuck down. You were absolutely not going to be fucking okay.

What the fuck.

The color drained from your face way too fast, knees feeling weak as the air from your lungs constricted.

What the fuck? Is that why grandma adored the asshole? Because she thought–

She thought that you adored and loved him all the same!?

You whipped your head abruptly, hearing a few cracks but that shouldn't matter because–

“Perhaps,” he smirked, eyeing you with a glint.

And, nevermind that, what's more is that–holy shit. Holy shit!?

Is the idiot actually fucking agreeing. Like, as in, fucking agreeing that, yes, they are fucking dating as if you don't have a fucking hate page for him? Are these people being serious right now?

Because what the fuck. Perhaps? Perhaps???

Holy shit, you're actually going to commit murder and it would be in front of your beloved grandmother.

“We're not dating,” you wobbly smile at the regulars, who don't seem to be convinced with how barely restrained the corners of your lips are.

Thank fuck for your grandmother though, for believing words as they are though because goddamn, “oh? really? apologies haha, so, you two are good friends, yes?”

An expectant shine in her eyes as she smiled. Snickers to the side as they eye you with a mockery of, ‘yeah, totally not dating.’

And good friends? God, what a joke.

You sent a split-second glance to the unusually quiet twink beside you; eyes distant and face devoid of its usual scowl.

Weird.

“Something like that,” you awkwardly chuckled, swallowing the bile rising up to your sternum before perking up in hopes to change the motherfucking topic, “but, uh. I think it's our break–”

A brief glance over the clock. 6:27PM. 3 minutes before your break, but who gives a fuck, anyways.

“Yep! Break time, indeed. I'll see you guys later!” You rushed to the door, completely forgetting to put the damn ‘On break’ sign on the counter, before you felt a cold hand grasp on your wrist just right on the doorway.

And you're abruptly turned to a pair of violet eyes and a pleading. Pleading—what?

“Fucking—” a tentative split second pause, “date me.”

Then, your world crashes down again.

You might have thought that hearing those words would lead to a Shoujo Manga setting with all the flowery background and shitty bubbles and shitty blurred surroundings and shitty soft tone–but, no.

What leads, instead, is a fucking punch to the stomach and the shriek that comes out of it.

“What the fuc–”

“If you think you can get whatever the fuck you want with your bullshit, then fuck off. If you pull that shit on me again,” you viciously glared down at the Asshole, “I swear you're not making out of this alive.”

A broken snort.

“Oh, piss off, fruitcake. You ain't intimidating.”

“I don't give a shit if you think I'm intimidating or not. Whatever we have is purely rivalry. Nothing more, nothing less.” And exhale, inhale, exhale– “So whatever bullshit like rivals to lovers you’re planning with me; just.. shut up about it.”

Silence stretched on. Ticking minutes and so.

Then, he looked away, and with a muffled voice, “fuck. just when I thought it would work.”

What?

Your gut squirms. Stomach flipping over like a damn pancake.

Holy shit. Don't tell me.. he actually likes me? What the fuck? Wait, hold on. It makes sense now! That's why he was acting so fucking flirty. Hu and the others were right?? But, then again. No fucking way, he definitely hates me, doesn't he—

You shivered, hoping to fucking ask him to expand only for him to stand up, shove you by the shoulders and then roughly hold you by same shoulders that's suddenly fucking tense, “I don't fucking like you, dipshit. Get your head out of the gutter. I need to fucking stay here for long, and what I mean by long is a fucking long, long time.”

He inhaled, sound sharp, “I figured that maybe being a suck-up to your shitty granny would help in making me stay longer, but fuck.”

Your shoulders sagged under white knuckles, watching him, your rival of two years, grit his teeth in defeat.

And, god.

This defeat was weird. Weird in a way that was helpless, and hopeless. Not in the way you knew all about him when it came to that word; challenging and thrilling. Vibrating with the incessant need to win the next time. Always making sworn promises afterwards to conquer stupid triumphs next time.

And fuck, you just realized, you can't believe that your first ever real conversation with the Asshole is happening in the same damn hall you caught your grandparents doing the nasty.

You gulped, feeling your heart race as the hands on your shoulders loosened, “I won't fire you.”

His hands tightened once again as he turned to you, genuine perplexion on his annoyingly pale face, “what?”

“Deaf much? I said I won't fire you,” you crossed your arms, peering over at him with a pounding heartbeat, “I don't pity you for that shitshow earlier, by the way. I didn't even think about firing you, so I don't even know where you got that idea from.”

He blinked, the familiar taut of downward muscles pulling onto his face, “the fuck you mean? You didn't even think about firing me? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, slapping his hands from your shoulder, “you were freaking out over nothing like an idiot.”

He opens his mouth but you beat him to it, finally looking at him square in the eye as your heart beats in tandem of your voice, “and workers here last a long time anyway because my grandmother likes them. And unfortunately for me, she likes you too.”

6:45PM. It's been 15 minutes. Your heart calms down in the meanwhile. It takes a while though, because you're staring at fucking purple. And shit, it's so fucking ugly your heart is considering it as a danger alert–

“So, I just.. freaked out over nothing infront of you,” he bluntly states.

“Yeah,” a snort came out of your lips before being replaced with a gasp, “damn, I wish I recorded it!”

Irked, he dragged a hand over his face, groaning out a, “Ugh, fuck off! Goddamn, I shouldn't have done that. Shit, I hate you so much.”

“Likewise, you asshole,” you shrugged with a smirk, absolutely relishing in the fact that he was flustered.

“Fuck off! Where's your fucking dinner?” He turned to you, teeth bared and body tense as if he was a cat hissing at you to get the fuck away.

Ha, cat. Cat..

“...You don't get to—”

“Yeah, no. Piss off,” the same cold wraps around your wrist once again, “you're not keeling over until this shift fucking ends. And we're equals now in crashing out, you fucking fruitcake.”

He paused, a victorious ugly smirk growing on his goddamn shitty ugly face.

“..Now that I think about it, you crash out more than me. So, that means..” a disgusting, ugly fucking smile, “..one out of four, dipshit.”

Okay, fuck him and his stupid pettiness.

You snapped your wrist from his—gentle?? soft??—hold, “shut up! at least I don't look pathetic begging for their rival to date him!”

“I don't even fucking like you!?” “Still asked me to,” you scoffed, “what a playboy.”

“I don't even fuck with girls?”

…

Long dramatic pause as a shocking yet not really surprising realization dawns on you, “are you actually fucking gay?”

And another dramatic, comical deadpan as he narrowed his eyes, “no, you fucking shithole. I meant that I've never fucked around with girls.”

“Oh, right. So shocking. I'm so sweeped over by the feet. Oh, what could I ever do with that.. jackshit of information!?”

He rolled his eyes, turning away from you as you perched on one of the stools, “I don't know. I'm not the one who fucking asked. ‘Sides, ever heard of fuckass blackmail? Hello?”

“Yeah,” a scoff left your lips, “with the way you proudly said you don't fuck with girls makes it truly blackmail worthy.”

Unbeknownst to you, a cheeky grin spread over his face as he scurried around the cabinets, probably looking for food as to what he promised just moments ago, “oh? I was just letting you know, though. Maybe, you'd like it if I was single.”

The undeniable sting in your throat makes its home as you grimaced, “god, you're such a horrible fucking matchmaker. first, it was that guy who was just innocently eating and now you? ew.”

Scaramouche snickers, the sound evil, “mind you, I'm the best fucking guy to be with. You should be lucky I even asked you to date me.”

“I feel the unluckiest. My bile thinks so too.”

“Liar–” he cut himself off, the rattling becoming a little louder, “also why the motherfuck do you not have any food here!?”

Your eyes imperceptibly widen at the same time as your brows furrowed.

“..I don't eat that much.”

A hideous grimace twisted his pale facd, oblivious of your internal freakout, “well, tell granny i’m going out for food then.”

What. The fuck?

There's approximately 15 minutes left before both of your break ends, and what the fuck does he mean he's going for food? What the fuck?

You narrowed your eyes at the Asshole who's currently fucking counting his damn rich paper moneys infront of you, “why the fuck are you even buying me food anyways? do I owe you something?”

He chuckles, mean and low, “No way. Just doing it ‘cause I pity you.”

A psuedo gag.

“So dramatic,” so he says as he rolls his eyes, heading towards the doorway.

“Think of it as..” he placed one finger on his chin, faking contemplation before sticking his tongue out at you except this one's not.. exactly mean, “think of it as my gratitude for letting me stay in this shitty café.”

Then, he's out the door. Just like that.

(You took a short moment to mentally note the fact that he had gone outside; which means he was going to take longer than the break time curfew. Which then leads to you having to tell your grandmother that her shitty little pissy went scavenging for food.)

“Gratitude gift,” you murmured in disbelief.

..Well, nevertheless if this day ended great or not, with the way he had uttered the name, “fruitcake” with so much disdain proves that at least, at least he wasn't serious in asking you out nor did it answer the question whether he liked you or not because, frankly?

You would never want to know what it would feel like to be asked out or worse: loved by a bastard like him.

───────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

|| previous episode - next episode. ||

───〃★tunes of your heartbeat masterlist

synopsis: in which your fate somehow gets entangled into a messy jumble between punk music in cozy cafés, intense rivalry, cherished yakults, parallelograms and quantum physics, competitions in contests and rainy days. or in other words; the universe seems to fucking hate your guts for whatever reason and decided to curse your love life with your awful crass emo twink-a-fuck rival. the question is; did the curse work?

taglist (50/50): @toekissers , @raineyun @localscarasimp , @potteraep , @shutingstar , @feiherp , @scaraenthusiast1 @dazqa , @wraithisd3adinside , @x-hihihi-x , @court-jester-stuff , @automaticpatroltragedy , @lalalaloveallmydays , @trulyylee , @jayzioxx , @featuredtofu @kazemiya @help-whatdoimakemyusername , @skyoverkill1 @phoenix-eclipses , @anqelkoz , @miyakomari @saechiro @franaby , @swivi , @vixialuvs , @heusalettle @kunikissr @yomishen @mywillt0live , @baldrapunzel @jiminscarmex @sushitushi, @liuaneee , @shynsgore , @mechanicalbeat1 , @marivaudages , @okukura , @azzumei @lucid1tty @iloveescara @usagiarchive @kyouzki @theunhingedmf @kangyeonie @mi2ukiss @bubblebellaz @eternallykira-143 @lumiicch

• featured song - lying is the most fun a girl can have with taking her clothes off by panic! at the disco

• LETS HAVE TEEN HEARTS BEAT FASTER FASTER SO TESTOSTERONE BOYS AND HARLEY QUIN GIRLS if orgot the lyics

authors' notes - gonna disappear off of the face of earth rn

(ask to be added or removed)

[peace-hunter]

Hey! How’s it going?

I was just wondering what are the dynamics between Optimus and his thirteen ghostie siblings individually?

haunted au

oh boi.

i'm gonna warn you, there's some dynamics i've given more thought to than others and it shows. sorry about that.

also this got very, very long so i'm gonna put it under a read more.

okay here we go:

1- zeta is the strict older brother trying to keep OP alive at almost any cost. he still feels guilty for leading his siblings to their deaths and is maybe trying to atone for it by doing everything he can to get OP through a war. this mostly means pushing him harder than the rest of their siblings, because he wants OP to handle anything that comes his way.

and OP really wants to make zeta proud. he's low-key still in shock at receiving the Matrix and terrified of messing up in a way he can't fix, so he's really glad he has zeta to guide him through his stumbling even if more often than not he ends up self-conscious with the corrections he gets. he can't help comparing himself to zeta and feel like he's failing to measure up to him.

they have the hardest time out of everyone to reach a balance on how much zeta can influence optimus' decisions without it just being him dictating what should be done.

2- prima is a bit of a mother-hen and OP doesn't mind nearly as much as he probably should. seeing as zeta took the more strict role, prima found himself taking on a more supportive, almost care-taking one. he's the one that nags OP the most about taking care of himself and whether or not he's pushing himself too hard trying to be the Prime everyone expects him to be.

and OP feels like he should mind more than he actually does but it's just. it's nice. to be taken care of. he feels like he has to be strong for everyone else around him but prima makes him feel like it's okay if he's not sometimes. carrying the Matrix makes him feel so much older than he actually is most of the time, but sometimes prima treats him like a sparkling and it's. it's kinda nice.

prima is almost definitely the one optimus is closest to. partially because receiving prima's cog made them develop a bond that makes it easier for them to feel what the other is feeling which in turn makes their communication pretty open. but also because while with the others OP had to slowly lose his hero worship and learn to love them as just people, it's really hard to be star-struck by someone who is constantly nagging you about whether you're sleeping enough or not (/▽＼)

3- vector is pretty strict and a bit of rule stickler which does mean he and OP don't always agree on what's the best thing to do. they get along fine enough, they just... have a hard time vibing with each other.

OP spent his whole life chaffing against an unfair system and unjust rules, before finding out the horrible reason of why they existed, which makes him inherently suspicious of any kind of protocol he doesn't understand or doesn't see the point of.

vector loves protocol and rules and thinks they're there for a reason even if you don't always see it at first.

they struggle to find a balance until vector understands that OP doesn't just hate rules for the sake of hating them, he needs to understand why they're there and what purpose they serve before he acquiesces to follow them. once he gets where OP is coming from, it's a lot less frustrating to have to explain why certain protocols and rules exist.

and OP starts liking vector a lot more once he stops feeling like vector is trying to force him to follow useless directives that serve no purpose. once he sees vector is willing to sit down and explain to him why certain things are done the way they are, it's easier for him to not instinctively reject rules or protocols he doesn't immediately understand. he learns to trust that there's probably a reason behind everything and it's not always malicious. even if he ends up deciding he still doesn't agree with it, at least he's willing to learn more about it first.

4- alpha trion and orion have a mutual soft spot for the other and they enjoy spending time with one another very much!

AT was the only one that got to see Orion as a cogless miner trying so hard to make things right even when he had almost no power in his hands to do it. he was the one that saw a spark in him that could light up their world again. he saw the little bot that refused to stand down in the face of a giant injustice. and he will always love orion for that. for the hope he gave him in a time where everything seemed hopeless.

but he was also the one that set him and his friends in a path that led them to so much pain. he cannot regret it, revealing sentinel's lies was far too important and there was too little time to hesitate, but he does feel guilty for the part he played in what happened after. and it's that guilt that leads to him being more patient, more sympathetic to OP's weakness when it comes to megatron.

and to OP alpha trion will always feel a little larger to life, even after their size difference isn't as big as it was before. to him alpha trion will forever be the person who took the blindfold off his eyes. the one that confirmed that orion wasn't crazy for thinking things weren't right. that not only told him he, and everyone else, deserved the right to choose what they wanted to be, but also enabled them to make that choice.

he lowkey imprinted on alpha trion back in that cave lol

and on a more lighthearted note they both really enjoy spending time in the archives! they bond over a shared love for history and the importance of accurate records. and orion spent a lot of time listening to alpha trion's voice back when he used to sneak into the archives. he can barely believe he now gets to listen to the real thing and not just a recording!

he can't help but think that maybe in another world, in a better life, if he was very lucky, he could've worked in the archives under alpha trion's tutelage. he knows it's only a fantasy. but it's a nice one.

5- solus and optimus get along pretty well! she doesn't give him as much grief about megatron as the others do, not because she doesn't think it's a bad idea, but because she's kinda curious about it. she's very much a "let's see where this goes" kinda gal, even if she's relatively sure the results will go badly. so while she will let optimus know exactly what she thinks of megatron, she also lowkey doesn't discourage him from his attempts at reconnecting with him. she can respect the hustle of trying to fix something everyone else has deemed irreparable.

and optimus appreciates this! not quite enough to let solus take control of him so she can mess around in wheeljack's lab, but enough that he will hang around and act as translator so those two can bounce ideas off each other for far longer than he would otherwise lol

6- micronus shares OP's distaste for rules he doesn't understand or agree with so the two of them (and amalgamous) will team up against vector when they feel he's being particularly overbearing. the bond that rebelling against authority (an older sibling) creates between two people cannot be understated. their relationship is a simple one but very close nonetheless. micronus is one of the most affectionate of the group and he made OP feel very welcome into the family very quickly. he's also one of the most lighthearted about their situation. he thinks that as long as they're all together, not even the pits could be such a bad place to be in. his good attitude is contagious and OP gravitates towards him whenever he starts feeling a little too down.

7- alchemist is a more gentle, even tempered and lowkey presence. so while he and optimus don't spent a lot of time one-on-one, the time they do spend together is pretty nice for both of them. sometimes OP needs just a nice, simple conversation that won't touch of heavier topis and alchemist offers that. he tells optimus stories that weave science and mysticism so tightly it makes OP wonder how anyone can think they're irreconcilable with one another. he does give optimus high grade recipes he's pretty sure could kill someone if not prepared carefully enough tho lol

8- nexus on the other hand is loud, wildly creative and unpredictable. there is a reason he's the first one that discovered how to levitate in ghost form. the fact he couldn't turn if off afterwards is irrelevant. he's full of good humor, loves pranks and always has a joke on the tip of his tongue. OP loves him very much but he does find him a bit... grating at times. he understands why nexus tries to make all of them smile and laugh as much as he can but... he can't help but wish he wouldn't try so hard all the time. he's certain that as orion he would've not only taken it in stride, but even joined in. but as optimus he just... he no longer finds smiling as easy as he used to. nexus attempts at making him smile only emphasize how much more effort it takes nowadays.

9- onyx was a little bit intimidating to optimus at first, but once he got over his awe at the slightly mystic prime, he found himself enjoying his company pretty easily. onyx has a different perspective on many things, much more spiritual than the rest of his siblings, and while optimus doesn't always get what he means, he enjoys listening to him anyway. and the way he describes flying almost makes OP wish he had wings too.

10- amalgamous and optimus get along pretty well thanks to amalgamous' gentle but free-spirited temper and their relationship only strengthens upon the discovery that both of them have a natural irreverence for authority figures. the bond that being rebellious together creates is a strong one. the fact they're also authority figures does not escape their notice, but they're firm believers of the "i am not excluded from 'fuck'em' when relevant" mentality so it's fine.

amalgamous is also one of the firsts that starts pushing back the moment he feels zeta and vector are putting too much pressure on OP or imposing their opinions on him too much. while prima will speak up on behalf of optimus' well-being more often, it is amalgamous that defends optimus' independence most fiercely.

11- quintus is another quiet presence that doesn't make a lot of waves except when he feels compelled to speak up against the more ruthless approaches their siblings suggest. but otherwise he doesn't stand out as much as the others do. optimus' gets the feeling it wasn't always like that, the stories the others tell him of better times before the war hinting at a wild creativity and idealism he can't quite see in the quintus he knows. but the way even those hints vanish entirely once they start speaking of the war makes him wonder if they're related.

12-liege maximo is maybe the closest any of the primes get to being optimus' brother in every sense of the word. they're all family, they're all siblings, they all love each other but it is liege that makes optimus understand what the cain instinct means.

liege teases OP constantly and is delighted at the fact optimus is not afraid to give back as good as he gets. everyone else is a bit too over-protective of the kid in his opinion and it is his duty as fellow younger sibling to keep the baby of the family humble.

and OP is glad he gets one person he can be a little glitch with. as Prime there's an unspoken... decorum or property everyone around expects from him and he's... not like that. he misses being able to joke and mess around with his friends, he misses being able to be a little immature and even rude and not worry about whether it'll cause a political or social scandal.

and it's not like he's not close to or relaxed around the other primes, but there's still a little part of him that can't forget he used to hero-worship all of them and that part of him still screeches any time he's kinda rude to them. he's working on it.

but liege manages to get under his plates like no one else, he gets to the irreverent little glitch remnants of orion that optimus buries deep down inside himself most of the time and it's fantastic. the fact he can see liege visibly enjoys their little spats also helps.

on a gentler note, sometimes when OP is struggling to fall asleep, liege will tell him stories to pass the time. after all, storytelling is lying adjacent and liege is a very good liar. they both enjoy it more than they'd like to admit.

13-megatronus' relationship with optimus is... complicated. but maybe not exactly the way people expect it to be.

yes, at first the mere sight of him made him want to violently sob but like. what didn't make him want to cry those first few days. yes megatronus was a reminder of Dee, a painful one even, but so was literally everything else. dee was so ingrained into every single aspect of orion's life, it would've been easier to name the ones he wasn't.

when he couldn't even do vital tasks, like eating or sleeping, without it being a struggle to not crumble under the devastating guilt and heartbreak festering inside his chest, seeing megatronus is like. not even in the top ten of his list of issues tbh.

and afterwards, by the time when every day is a little easier to get through, he already got to know megatronus enough to see him more as person and less as dee's idol. of course it's not right away, not completely painless, you don't erase years of memories of someone you used to hold dearest to your heart just like that, but it's. it's a start.

he gets to make his own relationship with megatronus, his own memories with him, untainted by the pain of losing dee.

and their relationship in itself it's pretty nice. megatronus is a little overprotective of optimus (why the fuck is he so tiny???) but he doesn't really get the chance to be overbearing with it because. well. what can he really do. so instead it manifests into teaching optimus how to defend himself the best he can. the kid has pretty good instincts already but megatronus wasn't the greatest warrior who ever lived for nothing. he still has a lot he can teach OP.

and OP loves learning from him. he doesn't enjoy fighting, but he loves learning new things and the rush of getting a new move right is addicting. he also knows that if he gets through his training fast enough they're ahead of schedule he can get megatronus to tell him first hand stories of events he has read about hundreds of times.

no one is as good as alpha trion in telling stories, but megatronus is a close second.

their main point of contention is, of course, megatron.

megatronus is very bitter over what megatron has done with his name, his t-cog and his legacy. there is no hiding that, not even if he wanted to. and he doesn't. he's the most outspoken in his disdain for his actions and, after a while, the mech himself. at first he tried to be comprehensive and not push optimus too much, because he knows how much dee meant to him, but there's a point when he's just. done. with the topic. he believes there's only one solution to the war is and he wants optimus to understand it before he has to pay too high a price for his hesitation.

and optimus... cannot accept that.

logically, he knows megatronus is probably right. he knows that there'll be a line megatron will cross and won't be able to come back from.

he knows it will be then his duty to stop megatron no matter what it takes.

but... not yet. please. not yet.

and megatronus won't say it doesn't disappoint him. he just knows that optimus' reluctance to kill megatron will blow up on his face one day. but it's fine. what's family for if not to say "i told you so" while helping to get you out of trouble.

[runninriot]

...✍️

“I want that too, y’know. The touching and kissing, everything. But the problem is, that I- I want all that from someone I can’t have. And that sucks.” Steve chuckles bitterly.

Isn’t that funny? That there he is, the wonderful man that stole Eddie’s heart, being just as miserable, just as heartbroken as Eddie is. It’s hysterical, really. Eddie wants to laugh, wants to ask who Steve is talking about. Finds it impossible to think there could be a single person in this world that would pass on the opportunity to be with Steve in all the ways Eddie would kill for.

   “Guess that makes two of us,” Eddie confesses and Steve perks up at his words, opens and closes his mouth as if he, too, doesn’t know if it’s okay to dig deeper.

There’s a sadness in his eyes Eddie thinks must mirror his own; two sets of brown eyes searching for comfort in each other. Eddie feels so small, so angry for Steve and himself because love could be such a beautiful thing but isn’t when the rhythm of your heart doesn’t match the one it’s beating for. When love is a one way road with no exists.

   “What do you mean?” Steve asks but Eddie just shakes his head and smiles weakly, trying to take some of the heaviness away for both their sakes.

People don’t choose to fall in love, it just happens. And when it does, there is always a fifty-fifty chance that your love is requited. That the person you fell for likes you in the same way, wants you just like you want them.

Sadly, Eddie has yet to be one of the lucky ones to experience that. The real thing. And while they are still staring at each other, each wallowing in their own sorrow because being in love hurts – he realises that this is so much more than a stupid crush. That this goes deeper than anything he’s ever felt before. That maybe for the first time in his 25 years on earth he understands what true love feels like. Feels the crushing weight of it. Knows it won’t fade so easily. But-

   “You’ll always have me.”

He can pretend. He can be Steve’s friend even if it hurts. Eddie would rather pull his own heart out than not to have Steve in his life. He’d rather be Steve’s friend than nothing at all.

   “What?” Steve seems confused at his statement and Eddie can’t blame him.

   “I’m sorry you can’t have who you want but you’ll always have me.”

   “Why do you say that?”

   “Because I mean it, Steve. No matter what, you’ll always have me. It might not be enough for you and I get that. But for me, this is everything I need even if I can’t have all I want. You wanna know why I came home so early? Because when you texted me, I realised that I don’t need to be anywhere else, with anyone else.”

    I just wanna be here. With you.

Eddie bites his tongue to stop himself from saying more, knows he’s already said too much. Probably shouldn’t have said any of it.

The confusion in Steve’s eyes turns into something else – anger maybe? Frustration? He pulls away from Eddie, jumps up off the sofa and walks a few steps back.

   “You- you can’t just say things like that, Eddie.”

Eddie hates that there is so much space between them, so he stands too, approaches Steve like he would a scared animal, taking slow steps to close the distance between them.

   “I can’t say the truth?” He doesn’t think about his own words, just lets his emotions take over his brain and mouth, doesn’t care about the consequences.

   “N-no! You can’t just say it like it means more than what you’re actually saying. You’re doing this enigmatic bullshit I never understand because I’m too dumb to read between the lines!”

That causes Eddie to freeze on the spot. He’s only inches away from Steve now, could lift his arms easily to reach out for him. But Steve’s words stop him.

He’s right, isn’t he? Eddie does that a lot. Says only half of what he means or says one thing and means another entirely. He just never realised Steve knew. That he can see right through him.

   “You’re right,” he agrees.

Steve huffs annoyed, rubs his hands roughly over his face.

   “Then tell me what you mean. What you really mean.”

It doesn’t matter now, does it? He already said too much anyway. Steve is already onto him, knows Eddie is playing a game of hide and seek with himself – hiding the truth and seeking for an easy way out. But it’s too late to try and turn this conversation around.

   “What I mean is-“ Eddie takes a deep breath, summons all the courage he can find in himself. “It makes two of us because I feel that same way you do. Wanting someone I can’t have? Because you’re my friend, Steve. I can’t have you the way I want you and that’s fine. It hurts like hell but it’s fine. I can live with that. You’ll never be alone because you’ll always have me as a friend.”

Steve stares at him with eyes full of rage.

   “But I don’t want you as a friend.”

Steve’s words hit him like a fist to the face. But before Eddie can let them sink in and start spiralling about the meaning behind them – Steve not wanting to be friends anymore because of Eddie’s confession, obviously – Steve closes the distance between them in one swift motion, grabs Eddie’s face on either side, looking at him with determination in his eyes.

   “I want you as more than a friend, Eddie.”

[sengenism]

always thinking about how senku was shaken when he found out something went amiss with the mission and specifically to gen

and of course senku being senku pointed out how gen is essential for the next part of their plan to mimic lillian, but it definitely goes deeper than that... why? because even when gen returned and the plan proceeded yet failed, senku was disappointed but not as shaken. in fact, he was pretty calm in trusting lillian's real voice and singing to do the speaking and reach out to the heart of others. knowing senku, he had ample of time (at least a day, as the trip from tsukasa's empire to the village takes two days) to figure out a good backup plan if gen didn't return

so the reason for his worry was definitely deeper than that... the reason being that gen was a traitor to the tsukasa empire and would probably get killed if tsukasa had caught him

the other two with gen– chrome and magma– were simply primitive villagers that were of no threat to tsukasa and his goals. senku had also explained this after they found out that chrome was kidnapped

gen, however, has betrayed not only tsukasa's trust but hyoga's too. tsukasa was shown to be a person who would murder (albeit remorsefully) if he needed to. he killed senku himself after all. hyoga on the other hand seemed to have no qualms on killing and killed two empire allies simply because their deaths would be more useful to him. and gen has pissed off these two deadly people for senku's sake

so like, at least for a day, senku was left with his thoughts and worries that gen was actually dead "because of him". that gen would never come home. and all he could do was something as irrational as hoping and trusting that gen was somehow alright

[cassofnowhere]

Frank’s physical and emotional state in DD: Born Again

Occasionally I’ve seen people express confusion at Frank’s…general state in Born Again. He does seem unkept, unhappy, in a worse mood than usual and oddly detached from everything else.

The shock was apparently so big, people started theorizing SOMETHING must’ve happened to Frank. And I’m here wondering what people expected to find, exactly.

I mean, if you watched The Punisher season 2 you will know Frank embraced the vigilante life by the end of that season. You would also remember he ended up the show pretty much alone. He pushed Karen away in a very definitive manner, Curtis, if I remember correctly, was very done with his bullshit by that point and didn’t want any more contact with Frank, he sent Amy away to Florida and seemed like didn’t plan to meet her ever again. The only person he seems to be in contact with is Madani, but she was in the Middle East and he also shut down any relationship there when he refused her offer for a job at the CIA (because “he already has a job”).

So, what we are seeing in Born Again is Frank being The Punisher. It’s a guy who shut down every single relationship he ever had and it’s only focused on the mission 24/7. The only thing he does, day in and day out, is look for the next scumbag to kill, the next gang to gun down, the next mafia to disperse. He gets beaten up, goes home, stitches himself and does the same thing all over again the next day. He’s been doing this for years.

And I’m sure, at some point, he realized what he’s doing is pointless, because no matter how many criminals and bad people he puts to the ground, new ones take their place faster than he can kill them. So, all he has to hope for is to keep at it, until he eventually dies. Except he doesn’t die. Almost 10 years and he’s still at it, and not a single thing has changed. Fisk is freaking mayor of New York City, for gods sake.

What we are seeing is a man who has become hopeless and detached, because he has nothing to look for in his life, except death. So…..no shit he is moodier than usual.

I get that this is not a common arc for The Punisher in the comics (if it was ever portrayed), but I think it’s a very interesting thing to explore in the MCU version. I do think it’s in line with what the OG show might’ve explored if it ever got a third season.

Season 2 ended with Frank reaching the conclusion The Punisher was his destiny. There was no happy ending for him, his calling was to kill criminals no matter the cost. And that was actually a very tragic conclusion for Frank to reach, effectively shutting down any opportunity at recovery he could get. He didn’t find fulfillment living as Just Frank (A.K.A Pete Castiglione), so he would find it with The Punisher….except, spoiler alert: he doesn’t! He’s still as unhappy and miserable as he was before. Turns out, giving in to your worst impulses doesn’t improve your life.

I think the point of the mysterious pills we see him take in Born Again, is supposed to be a physical manifestation of Frank’s weariness. That there is a downside to living like The Punisher, and aside from the emotional isolation, he is physically weaker. And again, I know there’s a bunch of comics of an older Frank, and even though he is older, he is somehow as strong and agile as he was when he was younger, and while it’s a valid depiction of an older Frank, it’s probably not a realistic one. Like, the man doesn’t eat well, doesn’t sleep well, he gets punched, stabbed and shot at an alarming frequency and he doesn’t get any breaks. That’s not the lifestyle that creates a healthy and active 60yo. On the contrary, actually. Now, he might have chronic pain he needs to manage with medication, just to function. And I like that. After all, Frank is only human. To show him grappling with all the ways his body can fail him is very compelling storytelling in my opinion.

I mean, I don’t know what they are cooking with Frank, but if I’m right, I am very interested in what they might show in the future with him.

TL;DR: the reason Frank is….LIKE THAT in Born Again is not because of any singular traumatic event, it’s simply the downside of the life he chose as The Punisher. A lonely, violent life that finally is claiming his toll on him. So yeah, he is moody and detached and doesn’t care about much other than his next target.

[rosekeu]

BAD REVIEWS ; shigaraki tomura x reader [taglist OPEN!]

"couple bad gut feelings, well, i've had them too. still i choose to be in love with you."

— next >>

You were soaking wet.

If it weren't for the fact that you were searching for the lost father of your baby, you wouldn't be out in the pouring rain, knocking on the grimy, worn down door of some sketchy abandoned-looking bar that reeked of smoke, rot and spilled beer. You were out way past any unreasonable hour, following the unreliable lead to this hell-hole you should’ve ignored. 

He told you his name was Tenko. You’d met him at a GameStop, for god’s sake — not some back alley with a gun to the back of your head. 

You never did things like this. You didn’t chase strangers. Or impulsive one-night stands…

You also didn’t go paying online strangers to run background checks– that had to be illegal, right? 

 But here you are—out in the goddamn rain—because some guy named Tenko disappeared after one night.

And now you were… well, pregnant.

To sum it all up— you guys fucked. 

It wasn't romantic, no candles or rose petals. But it wasn't careless either(he suspiciously wore two finger gloves too).

There’d been a softness in the way he held your hips and how his fingers brushed against your jaw, like he wasn't used to touching something that didn’t crumble under his touch. 

You played Smash Bros on some shitty motel TV. You remembered laughing—really laughing—as he trash-talked you like a twelve-year-old who lived in his mom’s basement. It was a weird night. Tender in a way that caught you off guard. Like two people pretending they weren’t lonely for once.

You knocked once. Twice. As you were about to knock for a third time a misty figure wearing a black and white suit opens the door making you step back in surprise. “What is your business here?”

“Uhm– I’m looking for—” frantically searching inside the bag slung across your chest and reaching for a crumpled piece of paper with a sloppy sketch of the man you were looking for. “This guy… about 5’8, very dry skin, slouchy and a beauty mark below his lips.”

As the man is about to close the door on you–

You quickly wedge your foot between the frame and the door, heart pounding. “Wait! I’m not here to cause trouble– I just really really need to talk to him…”

The figure tilts his head to the side, his gloved hands pointing to the sketch in your hand. “You seek him.”

You nod, biting your lip nervously. “It’s really urgent.” 

He’s about to speak again when a pale blur passes behind him—slouched posture, ragged hoodie, unmistakable mop of chalk-blue hair. Your eyes widen.

“That’s him!” You gasp, pushing past the doorman before he can react. Hearing protests as you continue to sprint inside the dingy bar. “Tenko!”

The figure freezes, slowly turning his head towards the sound of your soft voice. His eyes widened in surprise and displeasure. His hand came up to irritably scratch aggressively at his neck, as if it's the only thing that tethered him at this moment.

That alone makes your heart sink.

“I know you probably don’t remember me, but—”

“I remember you,” he cuts in, voice rough. His brows pull tight. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You flinch at the sudden edge his tone attains, but feel no real venom behind his words. Like he truly is at a loss of words when it comes to the reason you came here.

“I’ve been looking for you.” You breathe out. “And trust me, it has not been an easy task.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly, trying to make sense of the situation. “Get out.”

“Tenko, please! It's really important– I just need five minutes.”

“It's actually Shigaraki.” He stares at you, you don’t know what his face is saying. “And fine. Five minutes.”

You follow him into a cramped back room—dusty, dim, and completely silent once the door clicks shut.

He leans against the far wall, arms crossed tightly. “Alright. You’ve got my attention.”

“Well remember that night at the shitty motel, you know we played video games and eat junk food and you were—”

“Spit it out.”

You huffed and pouted. “I’m pregnant.”

He blinks once. Then twice.

“...What?”

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, firmer this time. “And it’s yours.”

For a moment, he just stared at you. Like he was trying to rewind time. Like if he blinked hard enough, you'd vanish along with your words. 

Your heart starts to break into tiny pieces. You were half expecting this response. One of rejection.

“I wore a condom,” he said at last, voice low and disbelieving, as if trying to ground himself with logic.

“I know,” you added sweetly. “I’m not here to blame you Tenko– Shigaraki or whatever you go by. I couldn't just not tell you…”

His hand went up to his neck again, scratching hard, the skin already raw from anxiety. “This is… you’re serious? You’re actually—”

“Yes. I’m nauseous. Tired. Late.  And I took a test.” You whispered the last word onto him. His body tenses harder at your claims. 

“I don’t even know your last name.”

You look around the room, swallowing the anxiety and nervously down to your gut. “Trust me, I know.” You bite your lip, feeling sick at what his next words might be.

“Shit…” 

 His voice is low, sharp—like a blade dragged across ice. “Get the fuck out. I don’t want to see your face ever again.” The words escape his mouth with a cruel, underlying sense of disgust.

It hits you like a punch to the ribs.

Your vision blurs. Your knees weaken. Panic starts to pour in, thick and fast. Your breath turns shallow, wheezing out of you in short, sharp bursts. You stumble back and tears brim your eyes. 

“Tenko–”

“It's Shigaraki!” He yanks your wrist, using two fingers worth of strength. “Fucking hell.” He says, dragging you out of the hallway and leading you to the door you busted through earlier.

The tears you’d been desperately holding back finally spill, sliding down your cheeks in trembling, uneven rivers. They drag your makeup with them—black streaks of mascara bleeding down. 

“Come on,” he mutters, jaw clenched. “You wanna break down? Do it outside.”

“Wait–”

And then, without another word, he slams the door in your face.

You’re left out in the storm—shaking, wet, and completely alone.

a/n: did you guys like this? i've had this thought ruminating inside my head rent free lolthought i should share

[fushiguruuzzzz]

ii ⊹ ࣪ ˖ kiss his face (with an uppercut)

Series mlist

Tags — basically the lore chapter, not too interesting stuff will actually happen soon I promise, mentions of blood/violence

Words — 1.1k

That black head of hair seemed to follow you everywhere you went. Down the street to the little coffee shop you’d began to frequent in the past week, the place where you found a familiar, warm sort of comfort in the midst of change, every time you took a walk around campus, in the darkened corner of a room. He always vanished into thin air the moment your eyes landed on him. You were beginning to think he’d died and come back to haunt you, revenge for the sour way you’d departed.

Megumi Fushiguro. That asshole, or, at least the general population of your school considered him so. The problem child. All he ever did was put the uptight, cocky bastards in your school in their places, though he was rather… violent. People didn’t like that, viewing him as some sort of vengeful spectacle for them to perceive, some unpredictable machine to keep an eye on. But not to you, never to you. In fact, you were certain that aside from his sister, you were the only person who even knew what his smile looked like. That suppressed curve of his lips, the way it quirked up when something particularly amusing happened or when you said something so silly he couldn’t help but laugh under his breath.

Countless hours you’d spent gently dabbing the broken skin of his knuckles, the annoyed expression on his face only deepening the more you “coddled” him. But you knew, deep in your heart, that if he truly disliked your attentiveness, then his hand would’ve been ripped away from you the moment your nimble fingers dared to reach for it. And he certainly wouldn’t let you patch up his face, on the rare occasion they managed to land a solid enough hit on him to cause such a need. The way he avoided your eyes, his bottom lip jotting out ever so slightly–whether it was nervousness or boredom, you’d never know. It was Megumi, after all.

On your day of graduation, you’d reached your breaking point. When instead of finding their way to the action you’d grown so used to, the gentle patching of his wounds, your hands seemed much more comfortable forming a fist.

You sighed, shaking your head to snap yourself out of your thoughts. It was the nth time you’d replayed it in your head in the past hour, and you really had material to look over. You had things to do, not think back to a boy you’d known in middle school, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t your fault, though. Traces of him followed you everywhere, but you were starting to think you were just going insane. Finally spiralling, as predicted. People weren’t joking about it all falling apart once you got here, huh.

It wasn’t the thought of him going to the same university as you that was odd, that was actually pretty reasonable. It was that you’d see him everywhere, only for the image of him to evaporate into nothingness as soon as you turned to him… or what you thought was him. Halloween was approaching, after all; the day of the devil. Maybe a spell had been cast on you.

The next morning, you awoke with a new sort of anxiety coursing through your veins. It was confirmed that he was here on this campus at the same time as you, always lingering within the halls and behind closed doors, like a hushed whisper that you could just almost form into words.

That didn’t mean you weren’t imagining things, still. At least you told yourself that, repeated it like some sort of mantra every time your thoughts inevitably drifted back to him. Just because many people near you happen to have black, spiky hair with an eerie resemblance to his didn’t mean you were seeing him. Doesn’t mean he’s seeing you. He probably wouldn’t even remember you, it’d been four years! And though the thought did send an unpleasant pang through your chest, it was more comforting than the thought that he’d been silently observing you from the moment you arrived on campus, prying eyes seeing past the hard shell around you and into the parts you kept hidden. The parts that only seemed to shine through the soft curl of your lips, one that you hadn’t truly sported since him. Sure, you’d smiled, but not that smile. Not his smile.

You thought about him more often than you’d like to admit. He was just… fascinating, oddly. The type of person that seemed to reach into your mind and take a piece of it for himself, wear it around as if to keep your mind on him at all times. It was his morals, his sense of justice, his defence of the weak and innocent. The way he didn’t do it for them, he just “hated bad people,” as he’d said. But it was also what lied beneath. That concealed sort of softness in his gaze when he thought you weren’t looking, his begrudging agreement to the “silly” things you asked of him, the fact that you’d punched him and instead of going after you and striking you so hard you’d see stars (as you expected he would as you ran, you’d seen this scenario play out many times), he just stood there. Stood there with a stricken look on his face and words in his throat he couldn’t speak. It was the way you knew there was so much more to him, so much soul within that only seemed to seep from his bloody knuckles after beating in the faces of the arrogant.

Though you were so young, though it had been four years since, you still thought about him. He was interesting, he was a black sheep that wore his wool without shame. You wondered how much of him there was to learn about, how much you might’ve learned about if you’d been able to control yourself. But he was the past, you reminded yourself. Panda was right, you thought too much. He’d be completely different now, and the memory of you would be something only barely uncovered upon hearing your name.

Though you were (not so) blissfully unaware, you were so dead wrong. So utterly incorrect it was laughable.

He thought of you every time he saw hair the colour of yours reflecting in the sunlight, every time he saw stupid little trinkets that he considered pointless, but knew you’d love. Every time a red car passed him; you’d always said you wanted your first car to be red. Red like the stains on his crisp uniform shirts that would linger even after you cleaned him up, that captivating crimson like the trickle of blood that dripped down his face after you punched him on that day. He didn’t bother to wipe it off, knowing deep down that it would be the last trace of you he had for himself.

(Nobara’s POV)

lore… aha… this was written quickly so don’t judge me chat also tell me why my teacher assigns a writing assignment EVERY TIME I actually decide to write a fic. Mr smith get off of tumblr no Megumi pov this time :(( oh also should Gojo be a teacher or an actor or something else. Because canonically he’s both a teacher and celebrity so…????

Taglist !¡ —

@1l-ynn @meowymeowbreow @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae

[namism]

🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷KOBY🩷

little things | koby

➳ categories: college au, gender neutral reader

➳ word count: 3k

➳ summary: It's no surprise when your friends' significant others swing by to drop off snacks and drinks for sustenance as you pull a much needed all-nighter for finals, but while everyone else is being looked after, who's looking after you? Enter Koby, the guy you never expected to care for you.

➳ notes: thanks for the request @mibso! ur like the best koby fan i know 🗣️

➳ cross-posted on ao3

"I... I think I'm gonna be sick."

Usopp tells you that he's on his third Red Bull as a dumb excuse for taking an unhealthy dosage of caffeine in a span of 18 hours because Nami has taken over four energy shots to power through the rest of her materials. She did it for the sake of passing Physics 189, an elective class on atmospheric physics that she stresses on too much because her love for it exceeds the exosphere, but she's starting to tweak (in Gen Z terms) because she has no fucking clue what's going on anymore.

Her head falls on the table of your study room—rightfully booked, not stolen, because your friend group is deferential compared to those study room squatters who don't even do any studying—and immediately, you and Usopp turn toward her in concern, the bags under her eyes being telltale signs of her surrender. It isn't Nami to give up on Physics 189 because she loves it more than anything, probably more than the weatherman in your local news, but in her defense, she hasn't slept in 31—going on 32—hours, and her body is giving into exhaustion despite the energy shots.

You stand from your seat across from her, reaching forward to gently shake her awake, but Nami is down like a snoozing puppy. Usopp groans when he realizes that he's going to need to carry her back to the girls' dormitories, while you thank your beliefs silently that she has finished enough of her materials to pass the exam she has to take the following morning.

"Sucks to be a physics major," Usopp mutters to himself as he pats Nami's head one last time before going back to his devices. He says that pitifully as if he isn't pitiful himself this finals week; he's a fine arts major because he likes being creative, likes putting things together, whether it be digital or traditional works of art, and if that isn't tiring enough, he also minors in engineering for fun (but maybe it isn't so bad because he has actual written exams he can study for instead of submitting a subjectively okay-tasting spaghetti due at 11:59 PM—only Sanji has to worry about that kind of shit in your circle).

Nevertheless, the grind never stops. You train your eyes back to your laptop, regaining your focus as you continue the assignment you've been working on the past hour. Once done, you hurry to the comfort room to take a quick break and arrive back at the study room to continue working.

By the time you arrive, however, more people have entered the small space, visitors from the neighboring rooms on the upper level. It turns out that they've come to visit your friends.

"Oh my god, um, is she okay?" Nami's girlfriend Vivi tries to shake her awake, causing Usopp to tell her softly that he tried to wake her earlier but to no avail. Distressed, Vivi puts down the small container she was holding and embraces Nami from behind, tilting her head toward her girlfriend's sleeping face and trying to talk her into waking up.

Usopp's girlfriend, Kaya, is the next to make her presence known by skipping over to the man, patting his head, and offering a bag of goodies and a PET bottle of lemon iced tea she got from the vending machine a few floors down. She smiles at you, and you reciprocate, not until the doors open to yet another sickly cute couple that makes you want to depressingly barf.

Sabo and Koala appear at the entrance of the study room with Sabo holding the door open for his girlfriend to come inside. She tells the two girls that study break is over, which promptly gets them moving. Vivi tells everyone that she has to bring Nami home, or else she's waking up to a grumpy girlfriend tomorrow morning, while Kaya obediently lets go of Usopp and helps him pack his things. As Sabo and Koala disappear, Usopp shyly apologizes.

"Why apologize?" you ask with a shrug.

"Because!" He gestures to the once-messy table where you, he, and Nami spent the past 15 hours studying. Now that Nami is being carried back to the dorms and he's leaving with Kaya, you'll be left alone with no one to look after you.

You shake your head. "I appreciate the concern, but everyone has to fend for themselves this season. You know the joke, 'Is it finals week or is it my final week?'" The couple bursts out laughing. "So really, you shouldn't be worried about leaving me here. I've survived the past few years in college, so this is easy shit!"

"Well, if you say so," Usopp says with a doubtful tone, but he takes it back because he's just playing with you. When he gets his things packed neatly inside his bag, he helps you and Kaya transfer a snoozing Nami on Vivi's back for a shameless piggyback ride to the dorms.

Once all is settled, your friends shuffle out of the study room, and the place is finally quiet.

Lonely and quiet.

Loneliness creeps up your shoulder as you lean back on the armchair with a sigh. Your chest feels empty, and it becomes more evident the longer you sit in quiet without the sound of Usopp's confused whispers or Nami's silent cusses. You're just alone, without your friends or any lover to bring you food to cheer you on. While everybody else is being looked after, no one is looking after you, and you'd be lying to yourself if you said that it didn't upset you.

There's always that unwanted feeling of jealousy that boils in your stomach whenever your friends and their lovers appear in front of you. They act so sweetly cute toward each other that it makes you yearn for a love as real as theirs, and now that finals season is rolling in, you need someone else's company more than ever. Kind of like aftercare, since college is kicking your ass and beating you into a pulp, so it makes sense to seek comfort. Unfortunately, you aren't graced even with the smallest bit of romantic interaction, so you just sit alone, sad, single, and most importantly, jealous.

As you wallow in silence, your stomach growls, and you realize that you haven't eaten or drunk in a while. You think back to the food Vivi and Kaya brought their lovers, and your heart sinks as another wave of loneliness crashes onto your pitiful single soul.

It feels nice to be loved, doesn't it? You think to yourself in jealousy as you look at the home screen of your cellphone.

"Shit, it's one o'clock?!" Yelling to yourself, you correct your posture on the armchair and shake your head to ward off grogginess. No wonder why Usopp and Kaya decided to leave; Kaya has strict guardians, and she only gets to hang out with a select few because she still has a curfew at her big age. It seems like she's broken that rule tonight, though.

Opening your laptop, you're notified that the battery is low. You roll your eyes as you angrily retrieve the charger from your backpack.

Unfortunately, it isn't there.

You look around your bag frantically, believing the device to be there even though it isn't. As you ransack your bag, tears of anger well in your eyes at the unfortunate event, your patience running thin by the second. You look through every pocket, hole, and nook and cranny, but the charger isn't there. When your laptop screen goes black and the stupid low battery icon flashes in the middle of the screen, your eyebrows automatically knit in fury as your hands clench into a tight fist.

Not only were you left alone, but you also can't find the one device that will get you through the night.

Having had enough, you slam your hands on the table in anger, letting the sound echo in the room and the pain settle on your skin. Fuck this shit. Fuck tonight, actually. You feel so alone and stressed by school, and to top it all off, you can't find your dumb laptop charger that you just want to—

"Ugh! I want to punch someone!"

"Okay, I'll just leave then!"

Your head spins toward the door in surprise. A guy with light pink hair peeks through the small opening like a lost dog, his hands a little shaky and his mouth forming a frown. You recognize him: Koby, one of the guys in your classes, who you got to spend a month-long group project with because the other people in your group weren't helping. Koby is calm and sweet, and you may not be close, but you vibe with him just right.

"Um, did you need something? Sorry for the noise, by the way." You sneak in an apology at the end of your question because you're not sure how Koby feels about witnessing an acquaintance-almost-stranger blare out about wanting to punch someone. Like you said, Koby is calm and sweet—it would be bad to give the poor guy a heart attack.

"I-I was going to ask if I could share the room with you since, w-well, you seem to be alone, and I saw your friends come out earlier—"

"Just come in."

Koby ignores the heavy sigh you let out in fear of ticking you off even more. Entering the room, he doesn't know why you're so stressed since you seemed to be having a good time earlier with your friends. The walls are made of glass, so he's been scouting the area like a hawk to hopefully score a vacant room to spend the rest of the night in. Helmeppo left the study hall hours ago in defeat, so he had to fend for himself alone.

Thankfully, you don't seem to be too bothered by his presence. He doesn't mean to be cocky, but maybe it's because he was a good group mate to you in the past.

Koby settles on Nami's vacant seat across from you, putting his bag down on the chair beside him. You watch him with bored eyes, and Koby swears he feels a chill run down his spine when he realizes that you're eyeing him intensely. Even then, he decides to mind his business and begin setting up his materials on the table.

Koby being Koby, unfortunately, he ends up breaking. "Sorry for the interruption," he says after feeling too embarrassed.

"It's okay. Sorry for staring," you mutter. Koby nods, disregarding your tired tone. Justifiable, he thinks. It's one o'clock in the morning, and everybody in the hall hasn't slept much besides him. He mentally pats himself on the back for deciding to sleep before coming there to study—good job.

Suddenly, he notices you groaning to yourself quietly, like a silent cry for help because you're too embarrassed to ask for it. Koby decides whether or not he should ask, seeing that you were already enraged to begin with, but he decides to just go for it because what could possibly go wrong with just asking?

"Are you okay?" he asks.

You roll your eyes. Koby hopes it wasn't meant for him.

"Yeah, yeah, I am— well, not really. No, I'm not okay. Do you have a Type C charger?"

Koby's lips open in slight shock. He's starting to get scared, like you're a ticking time bomb that can detonate any second now. Even then, he slowly nods and reaches for his backpack again to come and collect the charger you're asking for.

"Here." He pushes the device toward you, and you all but leap across the table to grab it. Koby notices your desperation when you crouch on the ground and plug the charger into the wall socket and hastily get your laptop back up and running. He gulps.

Once the screen lights up, your face brightens. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Uh, you're welcome!" Koby awkwardly replies through a nervous laugh, delighted to see that you aren't angry anymore.

"You're my savior," you tell him. "You don't know just how sad I was today. I mean, my friends are gone, and my laptop just died on me, but I didn't bring a charger and all that shit. Worst of all, I'm literally—"

Your stomach growls.

"Starving," you finish. Koby keeps the same expression on his face, lips quirked up into an awkward smile as he listens to you ramble. You place a hand on your tummy and you rest your head on the table. "Sorry, Koby..."

He's glad to hear his name, though. It's nice to know that you still remember him despite your foggy brain and tired system. Looking into his backpack again, he grabs a small pink eco-bag and pushes it toward you.

You tilt your head up at the noise. The bag is right in front of your face.

"What's this?"

"You said you were hungry, so..." He nods to the bag and almost jumps from his seat when you snatch it with your quick hands. You look inside, then you scatter the contents on the table. Koby motions to the array of snacks: yogurt, milk, chocolate bars, peanuts, coffee-flavored candies, chocolate malted powder, and two bottles of probiotics. Realizing just how much food he had with him, he scratches his nape shyly. "Um, I always have food with me, but you can have these. I think you might need it because you've been here since morning."

You blankly stare at the assortment of snacks in front of you. Your heart pounds in your chest, and your lips form a pout.

Koby notices and assumes that you're staring at the milk.

"Sorry," he says meekly. He's kind of panicked, thinking that he brought the wrong flavor of milk. "Do you hate strawberry?"

"What?" you ask, then later on realize what he's talking about. Oh, poor innocent Koby—he thought you were upset with the milk, but really, you're just moved by his generosity. He's so kind. Do you even deserve this after scaring the guy? "No, I was just, like, thinking to myself, that's all."

"Oh," he says. "What were you thinking of?"

"I'm wondering if you're my guardian angel." His ears perk up and his cheeks start to turn pink. You pick up the strawberry milk he was talking about and inspect it closely. Then, you hold it in front of his face and make a side-by-side comparison. "Your hair and cheeks are pink, just like the milk."

His face flushes even more.

"And now you're blushing harder," you point out. As you observe the snacks on the table, many of what Koby bought seem to be strawberry-flavored, and it warms your heart to think that he seemingly has a natural attraction toward anything pink, like his light fluffy hair (and his seemingly squishable cheeks). It then crosses your mind if his hair is all-natural or if he dyes it regularly because it's the kind of pink that doesn't look real, but at the same time does. Koby catches you staring at him longer than socially acceptable though, so you snap out of your trance to avoid the awkwardness.

"I don't want to assume and waste your study time, but it seems like you're the one all entranced now," he mutters the last part because he realizes that he isn't bold enough to be making such moves on you, so he keeps his head down in embarrassment. When you don't reply, Koby opens his textbook, fixes his specs, and reads.

Your stomach aches another time, so you grab the yogurt and eat it like you haven't eaten in years. One by one, the snacks on the table disappear as you eat in silence, giving yourself a well-deserved break.

Suddenly, it hits you. Loneliness is washed away by a feeling of comfort, and, ugh, it feels so good to feel this way. Truth be told, you're still sad that your single self doesn't have a special romantic support person like your friends do, but even if you never saw Koby in that light, his company almost feels similar to it. Maybe it's the bitter jealous pang in your chest after seeing couple after couple be so lovey-dovey during finals season, but whatever it is, it's eased down a bit because of Koby. The kind guy, Koby. The oh-so-generous guy, Koby. The pink-haired guy who might be a modern-day superhero in secret, Koby. Just how many people has he done this for? Is it just you? How kind is he to share his cute pink bag of snacks because he sensed that you were hungry? What about the charger he probably needs for himself?

As you chew on an energy bar, you realize something.

Since when did Koby look this cute?

"Hey, what are you— are you crying?! Are you okay?!"

You nod your head. You didn't even realize you were crying until Koby looked up from his textbook and pointed it out. You cover your eyes with your arm.

"I'm fine, just, um, ignore me and keep studying! Gosh!"

In panic, he reaches inside his backpack for a fresh pack of tissues. He rises from his seat and walks over to you, offering it.

"Was it the candy? What's wrong?"

You reject the tissues. "No! It's just, like, about you and stuff—"

"Wha— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry!"

"No, you got it all wrong! I'm thankful for you, not the other way around." You smile through your dramatic tears. "You're just so sweet to me. You lent me your charger and gave me food when I needed them most."

He blinks slowly.

That's it?

"W-Well, I'm glad that you're... happy... about it... I guess..." he replies questioningly. "Do you still need...?"

"Tissues? No, I'm okay." You wipe your tears with your hands and shake your head. You feel energized. "Thank you, Koby..."

...for being here.

There it goes again: the slight shock on Koby's face has a hint of confusion as he tries to make sense of your actions, but he's more understanding than judgmental given your circumstances. He doesn't know what got you all annoyed in the first place, but if you're okay as you claim to be, then that's good enough for him.

Koby smiles at you genuinely. As he goes back to studying, you make a mental note to befriend him once this is all over.

[capsicle-evans]

The Make Believe Ms Evans

Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: A PR marriage between Y/N and Chris Evans has skyrocketed their careers but their sex lives has never been this low. Up until now.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, ass play, swearing.

Part 1

“Stay still” Marina, my make up artist warns me as she applies my eyeliner. “Can’t fuck this up now”

“Claire would probably murder you” I grin as I feel the weight of Marina’s hand on my cheekbone. “Did you know that you make funny faces when you are doing my make up?”

“It’s my concentration face” She winks at me before setting the pen on the table. “There, all done”

“Just in time” I whisper as Claire enters the bathroom, a stern look on her face.

“Y/N, can you join us in the living room, please?” Claire, my publicist, asks me.

“Depends” I twist my mouth to the side. “Am I getting lectured?”

“Depends” She gives me the same look I just gave her. “Are you going to comply?”

“Ugh, fine I’ll join you” I roll my eyes, standing up from my makeup chair. “You know, you need to stop being so grumpy all the time. It’s not good for your health”

“Yeah well that’s what working for you gets me” She turns around, guiding me towards the living area of the suite.

I grab the train of my dress before following her steps, making sure not to step over the hem. As soon as I enter the space, I notice Chris standing in front of the mirror, his eyes fixated on his tie, completely oblivious of my presence. I walk pass him, towards the chair next to the window, sitting down gracefully just to make sure my dress remains intact.

“I’m here” Polly appears from the adjacent room, a lot of papers in her hand and her phone between her ear and her shoulder. “Gotta go, call you later”

I take a couple of seconds to look at Chris, his black suit and black shirt hugging his entire frame. I turn my eyes to Polly before Chris can look back. “What’s going on?”

“What the fuck is going on with you two?” Polly asks as she places her phone down over the coffee table. “And why is this the fifth call I receive today about you two?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about” I pout, reaching for a chocolate truffle but setting it down after thinking of the mess I might make of my dress.

“Well, enews is asking if you guys are getting a divorce, people magazine is asking me who cheated” Claire snarks back at me.

“Well, we know the answer to that one” I smile sarcastically.

“Seriously, Y/N? You’re still on that shit?” Chris rolls his eyes, running his hand through his hair.

“What? She asked and it’s not like I actually care” I tell him before turning back to Claire and Polly. “But for real, what’s up with the questions? We haven’t done anything”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, you two don’t look at each other or even talk to each other during events and people are starting to notice it” Polly says as she takes a seat across from me. “Guys, we know this wasn’t a love match but for fuck’s sake, you guys are actors, try to pretend at least”

Chris and I got married about 4 months ago after a lot of campaigning on Polly and Claire’s part. Every since Chris and I did a movie together two years ago, our fame skyrocketed and our teams thought that it would be a great idea if we dated. Or at least we pretended to. But in reality, we hated each other but apparently that’s what our movie needed since it was an enemys to lovers story. Fans went batshit crazy after a picture of Chris leaving my apartment at 3 am went viral. Truth was, he was there to apologize after a massive fallout we had during shooting. So we pretended to date and our relationship became like crack for the fans. It only took a couple of months before they were selling us the idea of marriage and only an idiot would deny the good press that our relationship brought to our careers, so we agreed.

“She basically chops my hand off as soon as I even try to step close to her” Chris waves his hand at me. “Take it up with her”

“Nice, put the blame on me” I chuckle. “Fucking prick”

“See, this has to stop if you guys don’t want to end up doing lifetime movies for the rest of your lives” Claire glares at us accusingly.

“If I’ll put me out of this misery” I exhale loudly but soon stop when Claire gives me a stern look. “Kidding”

“Guys, please” Polly sighs. “We know this situation is not ideal but I need you guys to cooperate”

“Fine” I shrug. “We’ll be more lovey doveys with each other”

“Chris?” Polly looks up at him with pleading eyes.

“It’s not like I have a choice” Chris turns to me. “No offense”

“I’d have to care in order for it to offend me” I snark back before turning to Claire. “Sorry, from now on I’ll be a good wifey”

“God help us all” Polly looks up at the ceiling as if God can give her any guidance.

***

The limo pulls up right at the edge of the red carpet, flashes and shouts already making me feel anxious. Chris opens up the door from his side and steps out, waving immediately at the people who have turned their attention to our car. He turns to give me a hand, his free hand reaching for the train of my dress.

“Thank you” I whisper as he bends down to spread the train nicely so it can be appreciated in its full glory.

“That’s what lovey dovey husbands do” Chris grins as he places a hand just above my butt cheek. “Try not to chop off my hand”

“Try not to tempt me” I say with a tight smile in my lips.

Chris guides me towards the red carpet, our names being shouted from every angle. With his left hand still on my back, he pulls to his side to pose for some pictures. He then turns to me, leaning in to whisper something in my ear. “Pretend I just said something funny”

“That’s hard since I don’t have a point of reference” I pretend to giggle as Chris hand pinches my skin. “Jerk”

“See, that’s why we make a lovely couple” He grins down at me, his lips pressed against my temple. “We are both assholes”

“Chris, Y/N” A pap calls our attention “look over here”

We keep posing for a couple of minutes, every once in a while looking at each other and giving a fake smile. After a while, Polly and Claire guide us to the inside of the theater where Chris’ movie is premiering. It’s about a war veteran who comes after being presumed dead. It was a heavy movie and it took a big toll on Chris but it all payed off because people where even mentioning his name along the word “oscar”.

Half way through the movie, after crying a bit over a really hard scene, an almost naked Chris came on the screen, and there was a bunch of gasps heard around the room. Chris looks good, no one could deny it, but this scene in particular really made it difficult for me to not gape at him. It was really intimate and sexy, and it focused on him going down on his estranged wife.

My hands went to the armrests, gripping a bit as Chris’ mouth hid between his costars legs. Every since we started the agreement, there was no one else. At least on my part. Mostly to avoid gossip. That meant that my sex life was basically non existent, unless anyone counted the vibrator in my bedside table.

A couple of eyes turned to my direction, hoping to see a reaction from me as I watch my husband be so intimate with another woman. I fidget a little in my seat, a warm feeling setting over my abdomen as I listen to Chris’ moans over the speakers. I need sex. Not with Chris, obviously. Just sex.

“Stop moving” Chris grunts, placing a hand over my shaking thigh. His palm is hot against my skin, making me gulp.

“Get your hand off me” I grit my teeth, trying hard not to push his hand away.

“You are moving like a worm and it’s distracting me” Chris looks down at me before taking his hand away.

“Sorry, the dress is too tight” I lie. I don’t want him to think that this is about him.

“Whatever, just stop squirming” He almost grins when I send him a death glare. “Childish”

“Idiot” I call him through my teeth.

“Both of you shut up before someone else listens” Polly pokes her head from Chris’ side, giving both of us a pointed look.

I huff before settling my back against my chair. Thankfully, the scene is over and my skin has stopped tingling. I manage to put my attention back into the movie, tears forming every once in a while. Soon after, the credits are rolling and everyone is on their feet, clapping at the whole crew.

I stand up and clap along before Claire softly pushes me to Chris’ side. Biting the inside of my lip, I wrap my arm around his waistline and look up, faking a smile. “Pretend that I just said something sweet” I whisper only form him to hear.

“That’s hard since I don’t have a point of reference” Chris grins, throwing my words back at me. “But I’ll try”

***

“God she is so pretty” I cry as I stare up at Taylor Swift as she walks around the room. Every since it was announce that she was going to be in the movie soundtrack, I nearly fainted.

“Stop being a creep” Chris gives me a weird look before going back to his whiskey.

After the movie was over, we traveled to the after party to loosen up a bit more and enjoy the cool LA night. I switched my dress before arriving, opting for a short black dress.

“Can you leave me alone? Please?” I try to not to make a face in case anyone is watching.

“Trust me, there’s nothing that I want more than to be away from you” Chris says, still holding his glass to his lips.

“You’d rather be with her?” I ask, reaching for my vodka soda.

“Seriously? Are we going there?” I can see the anger in his hands as it grips the glass. “Nothing happened”

About a month after the wedding, I started receiving texts and screenshots from one of Chris’ costars on a film. They were from a conversation between her and Chris and about how they couldn’t wait to be alone and fuck each other’s brains off. I obviously never cared about it out of jealousy but out of anger because he was making me look like an idiot. Claire and Polly had to intervene, so, after she got a deal on a movie thanks to them, the messages stopped coming.

“Whatever” I roll my eyes before going back to looking around the room. “At least she was pretty, I would actually murder you if you cheated on me with an ugly person”

“I didn’t cheat” He exhales harshly, really annoyed with me.

“Glad to see you are not biting each other’s heads off” Claire joins us at the VIP table, a glass of white wine in her hand.

“Come back in 5 minutes and we’ll see” I give her a sarcastic smile. “It’s really tempting”

“Maybe you should fuck the anger away” Polly smirks as she sits next to Claire.

I immediately tense up, remembering that scene from the movie. “I’d rather shave my entire hair and eat it before doing that”

Chris laughs, clearly amused by my comment. “And they say romance is dead”

“When it comes to this relationship, they are right” I flop back down on the couch. “Anyways, enough about our wonderful marriage. I want to dance or do something fun for once”

“Let’s go” Chris stands up, stretching his hand to me. I stare at his hand for a couple of seconds. “Before I change my mind”

“You want to dance with me?” I blink up at him.

“That’s what couples do, Y/N” Chris rolls his eyes before reaching for my hand and forcing my to stand up.

“So romantic” Polly teases, earning a giggle from Claire.

“Oh shut up” I glare at them before following Chris to where there are some people dancing.

Taylor has been singing for a while now, the tunes of Dress starting to slither through the speakers. Chris pulls me against his chest, his hand landing on the curve between my ass and my back. People start to turn their attention to us.

“People are staring” I whisper against his jacket.

“Ignore them” Chris whispers against my ears. “Just remember you have to look like a madly in love wife”

“Yeah, because that’s easy” I chuckle. “I’ve never been married before and I’ve never been madly in love either”

“Never?” He asks me, his breath fanning my skin as we sway with the music. “A high school boyfriend?”

“I mean I’ve had boyfriends” I explain. “Just never that serious. You?”

“Not really, I mean, I enjoyed my past relationships but never enough to wish to marry them” Chris spins me around just as Taylor starts singing the chorus.

“And yet you married someone you actually hate” I laugh, seeing the irony.

“Yeah, well, at least you are hot” He pinches my back softly.

“Christopher Robert Evans, is that a compliment?” I fake gasp. He has called me this before. And so have I. Just because we are not particularly fond of each other doesn’t mean we are blind.

“Don’t let it get to your head” Chris rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to get along here”

“I mean we are making progress” I look around the room, scanning the crowd. “This is the longest we have gone without giving each other an insult”

“Don’t tempt me” He chuckles. “No but I’m serious… We should try to at least get along”

“Yeah, I guess” I bit the inside of my cheeks. We stay pressed against each other, surrounded just by Taylor’s sweet voice and some chatter.

“I never cheated” Chris breaks our silence, his muscle tensing under my hands. “I know that I don’t owe you an explanation and I know you probably are not going to believe me. But I didn’t. I promised to respect you, and I plan on sticking to that promise, fake husband or not”

I fix my eyes on the button of his shirt, not daring to look him at his eyes. “I know… I guess I just chose to believe it to have a reason to hate you. I’m sorry”

“Okay, let’s just put that behind us” Chris relaxes, his back slouching a bit. “We can be friends, Y/N. God knows how long we are going to need to keep this going, might as well get along”

“Pains me to say this, but you are right” I finally look up at him, his blue orbs staring down at me. “Hi, I’m Y/N. And you are?”

Chris throws his head back, laughing. “You have my last name, Y/N. We can start over without weird introductions”

“Indulge me, Evans” I poke his chest. “I don’t know that much about you”

“What do you want to know?” He raises his eyebrow. “Ask away”

“What’s your favorite color?” I blush, realizing how stupid my question is. “Sorry, I’ll try again”

“Green” He ignores my second statement. “Yours?”

“Blue, but like light blue, kinda like your e-“ I cut myself, my cheeks flaring.

“Here I was asking to be friends and you are just laying it out on me” Chris grins hard. “You waste no time, Ms. Evans”

“Idiot” I slap his arm playfully. “I meant I like the shade, that’s all”

“Sure sure” He nods, a smug look on his face. “My turn… Favorite animal?”

“Mmm tough one… I really like raccoons and-“ I stop myself when Chris’ laugh erupts from his chest. “What?”

“Who the fuck likes Raccoons?” His eyes are still tingling with amusement.

“They are cute and funny” I defend myself. “They are like just so hilarious”

“Fuck that’s good” He shakes his head. “You are weird”

“Many people like raccoons” I fight him. “You need to learn to appreciate their beauty”

“Yeah, no thanks” Chris stops moving and grabs my hand. “Why don’t we go back to the table? Seems stupid to try to have a conversation while dancing”

“Okie dokie” I follow his lead back to our VIP table.

Polly and Claire are deep into a conversation, probably some gossip or something like that. PR people always know everything about everyone. We sit down across from there, getting back their attention.

“Oh look, you guys made it without a scratch” Polly nods proudly. “Who would’ve thought?”

I roll my eyes before turning my eyes back to Chris, falling back into our conversation.

***

“Hi, bub” I lean down, my heels in on hand and the other one petting Dodger behind his ears. “Where you a good boy to uncle Scott?”

Scott was our designated dog-sitter most of the nights. Neither of them minded, Dodger loved him so much, he actually listened to him.

“He’s always a good boy” Chris bents down to plant a kiss over the dog’s head before walking away from the entry way.

I make my way to my room, Dodger following right behind me. I hear Chris yell “traitor” before I disappear into my closet.

A couple of minutes later, I’m tucked in my bed, Dodger at the edge, his head over my feet. Chris’ footsteps catch hims attention, his head snapping up. “You traitor”

“Let him be” I pull the dog closer to me. “He always sleeps with you”

Chris and I have separate rooms and I only sleep on the masters bedroom whenever we have other people around. People that don’t know about the whole fake marriage thing. Mostly the maid and the cook and both of our families. Even Scott believed we were happily married.

“Yeah, cuz he is mine” Chris sasses. “C’mon boy”

But Dodger stays put. “Just give up already”

“Fine, just this once” Chris drops the subject before snapping his head up. “Uh, I forgot. Do you have any spare razor? I forgot to ask Mayra to restock my shelf”

“Yeah sure” I move slowly so that dodger won’t sprint out of my bed. I push the covers away and step out of the bed.

Quickly, I reach the bathroom and pull a pink razor from the cabinet under my sink. “You’ll have to settle for this pink one” I stretch my hand before looking up, Chris’ eyes not exactly meeting mine.

Fuck. I forgot that I chose the pink nightgown. The one the gave me too much cleavage and barely reached under my butt cheeks. Nervously, I reach for my rob that’s draping over my night stand, snapping Chris’ attention away from my bare legs.

“Uh, yeah no, thanks” Chris mutters, snatching the razor from my hand and walking away from my room a bit to fast.

I shake my head a bit before moving back to my bed, Dodger still sprawled on the edge of the bed. “Let’s sleep this off, buddy”

About 10 minutes have passed since I turned off the lamp over my nightstand, when a weird sound startles me awake. I squint my eyes, as if that’s going to help me decipher the source of the noise. A couple of seconds later, right when I’m about to drop it, I hear it again. A moan. A moan from Chris. His bathroom shares a wall with my room, sounds slipping into my area really easy. I can hear his muffled moans a bit clearer, connecting my ear to the wall.

“This fucker” I feel anger bubbling inside of me. He brought someone home. After saying he wouldn’t cheat on my. Well not technically on me, on the promise of respecting me.

I push away the covers from my frame, earning a glare from Dodger before he moves to settle over the free side of the bed.

I walk fast towards his room, ready to rip him a new one. I push pass his door and head straight to the bathroom. I keep waiting for a pair of heels or some panties dropped somewhere on his room but my eyes remain cleaned from that sight. I’m about to burst into the bathroom when the imagine forming on front of me stops me cold on my feet.

Chris’ has his back against the wall, the shower head splashing his face, water dripping down his torso. His hand is pumping his swollen dick, curses coming out of his mouth along with the movement.

It’s like I am being hypnotized. I want to move my eyes away, but the scene in front of me so fiery, my eyes remain glued to his member. I feel a warm spreading in between my legs as Chris pumps harder. He lets out a hard loud moan as white loads burst from the tip of his dick. He huffs, rolling his head back, letting the water wash away all the produce of his effort.

I snap out of it, walking backwards fast before sprinting back to my room. I close my door slowly, making sure not to make a sound before hiding under my bed spread. I close my eyes hard trying to remove the picture from my head but the heat in between my legs not allowing me to.

I give up after 5 minutes, poking my hand out from under the bed covers. Without even looking, I dig my hand into my nightstand, searching for my pink vibrator. This will have to do for the night.

I have a plan for tomorrow.

***

“Let me get it off, bub” I bent down to release Dodger from his leash, the pup ready to sprint to the backyard.

Dodger and I love to go on hikes together, just the two of us and the sun rising over the horizon.

I hear from clattering from the kitchen so I step into the area, spotting Chris over the stools that surround the kitchen island. “Hey there”

“Morning” Chris looks up at me, as he sets his coffee down. “How was the hike?”

“Pretty good” I reach for the top cabinet, looking for a glass. Chris probably put the dishes away because the glasses are to far back, forcing me on my tip toes.

I can feel Chris’ eyes burning a hole over my ass as the my tennis skirt rises enough to expose the underside of my cheeks. I turn around and Chris snaps his gaze back to his omelet, his cheeks turning red.

I fill my glass with water and gulp it down, not taking my eyes from him. I settle the glass down before moving to stand in front of him, the kitchen island separating us.

“Let’s have sex” I say hard, so hard that Chris starts coughing as a piece of egg gets caught up in his throat.

“I’m sorry, what?” He looks up at me, his breath a bit hard from the chocking and maybe from my statement.

“Let’s have sex” I repeat myself. “You said you were not going to cheat and neither will I. But we both have needs and I think it’s a good idea”

“What are you even-?” Chris starts but I roll my eyes.

“I heard you last night” I confess. His face turns a deep shade of red, the vein on the side of his neck pulsing. “Look, I won’t judge you, I did it, too.

“You- what?” Chris’ breath hitches, his knuckles turning white as he closes his hands.

“C’mon we are not five” I step around the kitchen island, closer to him but still leaving some space between us. “We can get each other off, and we are married so it’s not like we are doing harm to anyone

“I don’t- I’m” Chris stammers a bit. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea”

I stare at him for a couple of seconds before finally speaking up again. “Fine, I’m not going to beg. I still have my vibrator. It’ll probably do a better job, anyways”

I turn around to leave but Chris’ hand flys up to my neck, gripping the back to turn me back around.

“What did you just said?” He brings his face close to mine. His grip tightening a bit. “Repite it”

“I can do a better job with my vibrator than you” I breath out, focusing my eyes on him.

Chris grunts before crashing his lips down to mine angrily. A moan scapes my mouth as he bits into my lower lip, making way for his tongue to punish me. His free hand travels down to my leg, pulling me up to place me on the kitchen counter.

I push my hands into his hair as his tongue swipes my bottom lip clean before moving down to my jaw and the to my neck before settling on the spot right under my earlobe. He sucks hard as his hands start pulling at my sports bra. My sweaty chest makes it a bit hard so I pull away to help him. As soon as the textile is not longer covering my boobs, Chris dives right in for one of my nipples, forcing me to arch my back. While his tongue polishes my hard nipple, his right hand moves to the other unattended bud of flesh. First his palm rolls against the harden button, his calloused skin sending tingles straight to my core.

“Fuck” I moan as I his salive drips down a long my nipple. I can’t keep my eyes away from the scene, my burning gaze forcing Chris to look up at me as he pulls my nipple with his teeth. “Oh god”

“Lay down” Chris pushes me down with his hand until my back connects with the cold granite of the counter.

I bring my hands to his shoulders, tugging at the fabric of his shirts, signaling him to take it off. “Get rid of this, Christopher”

“On it” He groans against my skin, stepping away just enough to pull the shirt over his head. His hard pecks and abdomen glistening in front of me, the pants forcing his muscles to look more prominent. “Satisfied?”

“No” I pull him down against my lips, my tongue making a mess of his bottom lip. “Take me like a man, Evans” I mutter against his lips.

“As you wish” Chris groans before moving his mouth down along my skin until it reaches the edge of my skirt. I wait for him to take it off but instead he just pushes it up and tucks down my underwear along with my leggings. He steps back a bit to pull his pants down, his boxers following the same fate.

“You know how many times my eyes were glued to your ass as you skipped around with this fucking skirt?” Chris growls as his spreads my thighs as my pussy radiates heat right in front of him. “How many times I picture your ass red after a good slapping, only this thine material covering the swell of your ass?”

I moan loudly as his hands grab my thighs, my ass hanging slightly over the edge of the counter. “I want you to be loud, Y/N” Chris pinches my butt cheek before lining himself up to me. “Moan my name”

“Yes, Chris” I throw my head back as he rubs my entrance with his tip “Rip me open”

Chris pushes just enough for his head to enter my pussy, my folds hiding his pink tip. “Yeah stretch me open” I throw my head back as he sways back and forth, entering me slowly.

“I can’t hold it anymore” Chris grips my thighs. “Brace yourself”

I grab the edge of the kitchen counter, my knuckles turning white as he pushes hard into me. There’s a sting that makes tears form on my eyes. I’ve never had someone this big inside of me, my pussy throbbing at the new feeling.

“Look at you” Chris presses his thumb against my clit. “Taking me so good” He throws his head back as his entire cock disappears into me. His thrusts are hard and slow, building up the tension in my lower belly.

“C’mere” Chris stops, pulling out so I cry at the loss of him. “Let me turn you around”

Chris puts me on my feet before turning me around so my ass is pressed against his hard cock. “Bend over, Y/N”

I do as I’m told, pressing my chest against the cold tiles. Chris grabs both of my hands and holds them behind my back, using the as support to hold himself as he re enters me. “That’s right. So tight”

I’m lost in my own moans when I feel Chris spit on his hand, before pressing his thumb against my asshole. “Chris” I tense up immediately.

“I’m not going to fuck you there, Y/N” He massages around my hole. “I just like to see the way you clench up” he caresses my butt cheek, trying to get me to loosen up again. “Do you want me to stop?”

He waits for my answer as I take in the sensation, his thumb placing a soft pressure over my hole. It’s not bad. “No, it’s okay”

“Good” Chris grunts as he picks up his pace, plunging hard against me. This new position really allows him to go in deep, reaching a new part of me that has me whimpering.

“Chris” I whine when he angles himself so that I can feel him fill me up to the point where me knees are shaking under me. “I won’t last”

“Yes, cum around my cock” He reaches down to grab my pony tail in a fist, making me arch my back. His movements become erratic as he speeds up, encouraging the orgasm out of me.

“Yes yes yes” I cry as I feel the tightness around my pussy before the release finally arrives. The cries that come out of ny mouth are filthy, so filthy that Chris drops down and plugs in his thumb into my mouth. I bit at his skin, the waves of pleasure still rocking my core.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Chris groans as he pulls out, his entire load landing on my back. “Fuck yes”

I’m still shaking, waiting for him to catch his breath so that he can help me stand up. “Chris, fuck that was…”

I’m so out of breath I don’t even finish my sentence, Chris doing it for me. “So hot”

I feel him pull away from me, a cool breeze replacing the warmth of his body. “Don’t move” I hear him move around the kitchen, looking for a clean towel before running it down the the warm water that pours out of the faucet.

Chris walks back to me, cleaning his entire release from my back. “I think you need to wash your hair” I can hear the grin on his smug face.

“Seriously?” I groan, standing up. “Aim better next time, Evans”

“You want a next time?” He throws the dirty towel at the floor where my sweaty clothes are.

“I’m game if you are” I shrug, tugging the elastic out of my hair.

“Then let’s play, Y/N” Chris grins hard as his dick starts twitching.

****************************************************

New series coming your waaaay🩵 hope you guys like this

[batlovebites]

How would vampire cookie feel with an s/o that doesn't drink, but still likes to go to the bar with him anyway, or be there when he gets more drunk than usual? Like they go to the bar with him and just get a flat non alcoholic, but make sure vampire doesn't get tooooooo tipsy while drinking

Not sure if this was a request or just conversation, but I haven't actually gotten a request for Vampire Cookie yet so I'm going to treat it as one. As a treat to myself.

Vampire Cookie x Nondrinker Reader [Headcanons]

That's actually pretty perfect for him! Vampire Cookie has no issues with other people not drinking, so long as they don't try to get him to also fully stop drinking. It's in his dough (literally), that's Not happening. His partner being someone that doesn't drink at all just means that he always has a 'designated driver'- or rather someone walking (dragging) him home after he over-indulges and falls asleep at the bar.

And he's happy to have you tag along with him, even if a bar's not exactly a place of interest to you given its primary purpose is to provide a vice you have no interest in. He's fairly chatty while drinking and knows most a lot of the other regulars quite well, so you'll at least be able to chat with a lot of people and hopefully have some fun even when you yourself aren't drinking.

He doesn't always over indulge, but its not exactly an infrequent occurrence either. You can usually get him to stop before he drinks too much, but sometimes he'll be stubborn about it. 'What's the harm in onneee more?' he says for the fourth time, and its easy for him to say because he's not the one who's going to have to deal with dragging him home at the end of the night- you are. Oh, the things you do for him...

Vampire Cookie is a tired drunk (unsurprisingly) and will get more clingy and cuddly as he drinks. Even if he hasn't drank himself to sleep, you'll probably still be half-dragging him home because of how heavily he'll lean against you just for the sake of being closer to you. Fortunately he's pretty light despite being fairly tall, so its not too hard to deal with.

There is the slightest problem that Vampire Cookie is the type of person to show affection and care by sharing food or drink- including alcoholic drinks. So as he gets more drunk, the fact you don't drink'll slip his mind and he'll keep trying to offer you some of the wine he's drinking. Its kind of cute, but also kind of annoying having to remind him that you don't drink and to stop offering. He'll drop it when you say no, of course, but when he's drunk enough he'll forget you said no after a bit and offer again. A little annoying, a little cute. He means well! His brain's just a bit scattered.

You'll become a pretty good judge of what Vampire Cookie's drinking limit is and when you actually need to stop him pretty quickly. Vampire Cookie's not a lightweight by any means, it takes quite a lot before he starts going beyond 'tipsy,' and he's pretty functional even pretty far into drinking- but everyone has a limit, and Vampire Cookie reaches and passes his own drinking limits often.

(Sparkling Cookie's also already a fairly good judge of it and- as a bartender [and a friend] is supposed to- will cut Vampire Cookie off at a certain point without you needing to step in, but he's glad that you're also there to look after Vampire Cookie in more ways than he can while working.)

Given that you don't drink, Vampire Cookie will make sure to come up with other places for the two of you to hang out so there's things for you enjoy too- usually his go to is just having lazy days together at home. He'll still almost certainly be drinking some regardless of where or when you're hanging out, but at least it'll be in situations where you can have as much fun as he's having, too.

[izelthewashbear]

Y'know what? Screw this, I just spent the past 2 hours studying for a test tomorrow, so have a random incoherent rant about why Rendog in Life series symbolizes rebirth, as well as his connections with the moon. Cuz why not. Featuring random things I learned during my myths and religions class. Bear in mind that I just finished studying and my brain might be slightly fried, so I might just be blabberin nonsense.

Right off the bat, the most important aspect - being beheaded and thus turning into the Red king. Quite obviously, he was literally reborn into this role - a role of protector of his own people and slayer of the ones who wanted to harm them.

Okay but first, let's go a little earlier than that. Ren's first death was forced upon him (no shit) by Grian's trap, being set off by Jimmy. Without that death, and being reborn as a yellow, he would probably never create 'the test' which resulted in his beheading - or either way, even if he died differently, I'd happen after his first death, so either way, after being reborn. Rebirth into a yellow made him realize the only way to beat his enemies (by that I mean the desert hippies) is to be like one of them - a red. And for that, he needed to be reborn as one.

But let's go a little further than that. One thing that came to my mind lately - many cultures and mythologies equate east with life and birth, and west with death. Quite obviously - the Sun, the thing that gives and symbolizes life, raises from the east and sets on the west. Where was Dogwarts located on the 3rd Life server? On the eastern side of the map, almost the furthest point east. And where was Monopoly mountain, the desert, their biggest enemies, located? Along the western end of the map. Monopoly Mountain is actually the furthest west point of interest on the 3rd Life server map.

Shadow Alliance and the way they speak about the Moon immediately made me think of lunar mythology - part of mythology all about obviously the moon, but also things like the moon phases, the ebb and flow of the sea, even menstrual cycles. The endless cycle (another mythology term). Repetition and rebirth.

In Double Life, him and Martyn want to take Pearl on their side through the Broken Hearts Club, because Ren perceives Pearl as someone powerful and worth having on their side. Although he does, indeed, speak about her more so like a threat that's better if it's on their side, rather than against them. And I don't think I even have to mention the obvious connection between Pearl and the moon, like cmon.

One more note for Ren and the moon - he's half dog. Some people interpret him as a werewolf. And of course there is a connection between the moon and werewolves - the transformation, the change, one would even say being reborn into something new. Damn, I should make my Ren design into a werewolf-

You could say "Okay but Ren is gone in Limited Life and the cycle of rebirth is still there"- is it? I'd go as far to say that for the sake of this comparison, deaths in Limited Life do not even have to count as actual deaths. People do not automatically go to different colored lives. In session 3, when Grian is AFK, there isn't even the death screen as someone dies - it's like the death doesn't matter, you're just put right back in, losing some of your time. But dying by running out of time? That's a whole different beast. It's coming for you. You can't stop it, no matter how well you play, how many times you die in the meantime. And once it reaches you, there is no rebirth. Without Ren, there is no rebirth.

Adding Secret Life based on ideas people suggested in reblogs and comments:

1. Ren taking over Tango's body. If we associate Ren with rebirth, and Tango is often associated with fire, what does that combine into? A phoenix. (I could insert Phoenix!Jimmy propaganda here but I won't)

2. The fact there is no health regeneration. You cannot get back to full health by just using potions or eating. The only way to get health back is to either complete your task. Which means - you only get to regenerate if you comply with the Watchers. Aside from Ren, the Watchers are the only way you can survive. Which could be exactly why they took him out.

The moment Wild Life starts, everyone immediately starts out on 6 lives. As if they're being made up for all the health they lost while Ren was away.

Very small nitpick, but the second wildcard is how Ren dies for the first time. The whole wildcard of ep 2 (eating the items) is all about messing up with their regeneration. And since Ren just got back, it's as if the regen aspect is still a bit messed up.

Martren. Like. Martren. C'mon. The idea that your loved one dies, so you take a part of them and you become something else. Like c'mon. What else is there to say.

If you have any of your own ideas drop them here, I might add them (and credit you ofc)