#and then make these definitive statements as though you DO know what's been going on

[butwhatifidothis]

Harassment is horrible, it's terrible mods in this Discord aren't doing anything.

But on the other hand, what about you? You harassed a person over *fanfiction* ( to the point it's the 4th tag who shows up on your blog ). Yet, all your harassment is still there out of the open. You haven't really seriously apologized, especially to them. You're still quite active on fe3h discourse while he had to remove himself from many public online space.

How is this fair?

You're rightfully upset about harassment towards members of your community, there should be *serious* amends made... But how can you hold double standards like that?

I haven't followed the discourse closely because it's so awful, why are you all so hateful? Because you just seems like one of the "bad guy" in this story along with Raxis and the other. I'm not saying you're the same, but you're not really better than those you criticize either, and the same apply for the other blog who participed in your harassment... It's just horrible all around. You're all drowning in a cesspool of toxicity and it's making you all worst people than you actually are.

I hope you, and people around you, will at least receive amend over the harm caused to them. I hope you stop receiving troll, death threat and any other type of hate message you probably still receive. But I hope you'll sincerely recognize your faults and fully amend to them too.

Look, I know you probably mean some kind of well and that you likely spent a long time thinking over this message, so I'm going to lay it out as simply as I can:

I have never once interacted with Cap'n himself, and I have repeatedly told anyone reading my posts to do the same. This is unlike the people who have harassed me and others, who went out of their way to make sure we saw what they were saying about us. This includes publicly admitting to using alts to go around our blocks of them so that they can keep interacting with us directly

Very quickly into critiquing Cap'n's work, a primary focus became pointing out the problematic rhetoric he was spreading with his incredibly influential, incredibly popular fanfic. This includes the justification of holding racist rhetoric, the anti-miscegenation rhetoric, the infantilization of women, the demonization of men, the justification of imperialism, and more, all which appear very quickly into the story and stay prominent throughout the story. The people who have harassed me and others, meanwhile, either deny this rhetoric exists in their circles or outright hold this rhetoric themselves. This includes the use and defense of genocide apologetics.

This post is the first time I have talked about Cap'n in over a year, and the last time I posted any notes on his fic was over a year and a half ago. This is unlike the people who have harassed me and others, who have engaged in harassing behaviors as recently as this week (as of Aug 18 2024).

It has been explicitly said by those close to Cap'n that my notes, while upsetting him, had no part in him leaning away from social media more, unlike what you say here. This is unlike the people who have harassed me and others, who have driven off multiple people from social media and have openly patted themselves on the back for doing so, justifying their harassment by saying the people they've harassed off social media deserved it.

I have kept my critiques strictly on this Tumblr, as have most of the people who have talked about Cap'n's fic. This is unlike the people who have harassed me and others, who have spread their harassment on places such as Twitter, Reddit, and TVTropes.

I have refrained from ever accusing Cap'n of ever holding any bigoted views himself, and have made it a repeated point to say that his problematic writing is far more likely due to ignorance of the subjects involved rather than outright malice. This is unlike the people who have harassed me and others, who have accused many of us as people of being sexist, racist, homophobic, etc. based off of nothing. This includes accusing at least one of us of actual crimes against actual people with no proof and on multiple sites such as the popular and public Edelgard Discord and on Reddit.

People who said they were in contact with Cap'n (as in, mods of the Discord server that Cap'n was once in, the same server that has the mod that uses genocide apologetics) have been told that I was willing to remove parts of my notes that he found too attacking or harsh, and they've been told that I would outright remove all of my posts regarding Cap'n period if he would talk to me directly and we could discuss the implications and rhetoric he had accidentally written into his story. While I do understand him not wanting to do the latter (as it involves directly talking to me), he hadn't even done the former (which does not involve directly talking to me and only involves relaying messages through his friends). And with all of the above on top of that, it gives me the impression that he feels less like "this person is harassing me and that is giving my anxiety" and more "this person is critiquing me and I don't like that." While he has every right to feel the latter, we aren't going to sit here and say that's the same as the former.

So, nonnie, to answer why I am "hateful," as you put it: I don't like stories that unironically say being two races mean you don't belong to either race being influential in a fandom, as a mixed-race woman. I don't like stories that have characters of color only be used as props for the author's favorite little white girl to be influential in fandom, as a person of color. I don't like stories saying that women just want to go back to being innocent pure little girls and not be the wilted tainted flowers they are now to be influential in a fandom, as a woman. I don't like stories that lay the blame of all the world's suffering on the shoulders of a race of people who've barely survived a genocide to be influential in a fandom, as a person with a modicum of knowledge on where that rhetoric inevitably leads to. I don't like stories saying that men who don't bow down to women will almost certainly become rapist pigs or otherwise terrorizing monsters to be influential in a fandom, as someone who rejects sexism of all forms. I don't like stories that liken the violent conquests of imperialism to the blooming of flowers, or that say that imperialism is the only way for the "good" culture to help everyone - actual, genuine rhetoric used to justify actual, genuine imperialism - to be influential in a fandom, as someone who has read any history book ever.

And I don't like how all of this and more have clearly been normalized in big 3H fandom circles and how this has led to multiple people getting harassed, in no small part due to Cap'n's influence on the fandom at large.

I'm sorry if Cap'n doesn't like me pointing out the bigotry he had engraved throughout his story, and I'm sorry if I'm not going to be convinced that me doing that is the same as people's deliberate and long-standing attempts to chase people out of the fandom for saying they don't like Edelgard in the one way they allow anyone to like her, and I'm sorry that me calling out the racism people are engaging in and are hiding behind the shield of "discourse" seems to bother you so much, but I think I've explained why I'm not exactly that sorry well enough. Hope this answers your question <3

[zhalar]

wheres that post hows it go. whats worse than having a job. not having one. bro im so fuckign b o r e d. BUT I DONT WANNA WORKKKKK. but i need money to live and buy sweet treats....... but theres no suitable work available in this tOWNNN

[confusionmeisss]

can you watch my boyfriend, please? - c. sturniolo

🫧 chris sturniolo x fem!reader

🫧 the “can you babysit my boyfriend” tiktok couples trend with chris!!

🫧 this is just fluff. there is the use of “y/n” apologies. some swears. that’s about it.

🫧 548 words.

🫧 hi lovelies!! thank u for wanting to read!!!! :) i’ve been seeing tons of videos of this trend & i was inspired. i thought it would fit chris soo well! i hope u enjoy reading bc this was very fun to write!! <3 nick version matt version

Chris was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping idly on a capri sun and scrolling away on his phone. He was blissfully unaware of his surroundings, he didn’t even hear the sound of your footsteps approaching.

Chris looks up when he hears your voice.

“Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for me, please? I’ll be back quick, I promise, I just need to go and grab something.

Chris watches you say, smiling at your phone camera, propping it up against the vase of tulips. He looks up at you confused, but you just place a kiss in his hair and smile once more at the camera before leaving the kitchen.

“Uhm,” Chris mumbles out, looking confusedly at the camera.

His confusion only lasts a moment though before he starts speaking. “So I was up late last night, and I stumbled upon this video about analog horror and liminal spaces and the backrooms and such. And then I found this one guys youtube channel and I’ve been binging his videos since like three am. Dude, the backrooms are fucking freaky. I just know they would make Nick paranoid as fuck, so I definitely have to show them to him,” he says with a laugh.

He reaches for his capri sun. “Oh! I’ve been on such a capri sun kick for the past like week. Pepsi is still my number one though,” he says, making a heart with his hands.

“Hey, how do people make the heart with their fingers? Y/N can do it, and she’s tried teaching me, but I just can’t seem to get it!” Chris huffs out, attempting to make a heart with his fingers. He stares down at them trying to bend them into the shape he’s seen you do multiple times.

He lets out a huff, looking back up at the camera, and letting his hands fall onto the table. “See, I just can’t seem to get it!”

“Oh! Oh! We went out to eat yesterday for dinner, and,” Chris cuts himself off with a little giggle, “and we witnessed this guy scrape all the toppings off his pizza and then stack the pieces up on the tray. I’ve never in my twenty years seen someone do that!”

Chris looks up when hears you approaching.

You lean over his shoulder. “Hey, I’m back, thanks for watching him guys. I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

Chris looks up at you offended by this statement, but you just smile down at him, and place a hand in his hair, reaching with the other to end your recording.

—

comments

the way chris had to assure us that pepsi was still his number one beverage choice 😭

pls let us babysit him again, he was very well behaved. just talked our ears off, 10/10 very pleasant 😁

not chris wanting to show nick the backrooms knowing he’d be paranoid by them 😭

someone did what with their pizza????

capri suns are 🔥🔥🔥

him trying to do the finger heart is so 🥺💕

don’t worry chris, i too, cannot do the finger heart

his giggleeee 💞💞💞

how to be in a relationship like chris & y/n no borax no glue

they’re such cuties 🥰

the way she is with him 🥺 oh i want that badddd

[eternally-racing]

kiss it better | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x reader 

genre: fluff, smut  (minors DNI)

warning: oral sex (m! receiving)

wc: 1.3k 

summary: When you’re taking care of Lance after his biking injuries there’s a special place where he really wants you to kiss it better. 

author’s note: yes, this is 100% inspired from me watching DTS and Lance’s scene with Lando LOL

- - - 

The last 2 weeks had been an insane rollercoaster for you and Lance. What had started off as a fun experience biking with friends in Spain had turned into a nightmare as you and Lance spent the rest of your trip in the hospital.

You had been Lance’s angel throughout all of the recovery from his wrist injuries. Never before had either of you really thought about how much you do with your hands and feet, until you realized that it meant that Lance couldn't really do anything until the doctors had determined that he was recovered enough. “It would take more than a lifetime for me to repay you for this, baby” Lance always says as you help him out around the house. You truly didn’t mind it - doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. “We do it for the people we love” you would always say. It’s because you knew that if the tables were turned that Lance would do the exact same for you, taking care of you 24/7 until you felt better. 

Your generosity is what makes Lance feel especially guilty. In the last 2 weeks he had been nothing more than a couch potato while you seemed to balance ten thousand responsibilities. You were already doing so much for him, how could you possibly ask for more? But you were walking around the house in the tiniest little shorts and a bralette that really felt like it barely counted as actually covering your chest. Lance definitely wasn’t complaining but looking at you was weakening his resolve with every passing day. Today you had taken to putting away the laundry, and with every time you bent over he could feel his boxers start to tighten. It was getting unbearable really, and the horniness in Lance’s brain was making it short circuit. 

“Y/N baby, can I get your help with something?” 

It feels like you’re there at his bedside before he can even blink. Your doe eyes are looking at him in a way that makes him want to give you the whole universe and it’s enough to make Lance want to bail on his request.

“No, actually I changed my mind I don't need - “ 

“Baby, please - I’m here to help you. What do you need?” You perch yourself on the edge of his bed, busying yourself but organizing some things on the nightstand. Lance’s cheeks are bright red but now he can barely look you in the eye. 

“It’s just been a really long time since I… yknow.” Lance glances down only slightly but it’s enough to give you an idea of what’s going on. 

“Oh?” 

“Oh.” 

“Well, I think there’s something that I could do about that.” you smirk slightly. 

Your hand slowly creeps towards where you know his cock lies under the bedsheets, and you gasp when you feel how hard it already is in your hands. You lean further down, laying your head so close, but still so far from where Lance wants you to be.

“No teasing baby” he mutters as he has to resist running a hand through your hair himself. The casts covering both his hands serve as a stark reminder of why he can’t do so even though he so badly wants to. You’re placing soft little kisses over top of the blanket, leaving the layers between you two as you creep closer towards his hardened length.

“I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before honestly. Like what were you going to do - suck your dick yourself?” 

You have your hands laid across Lance’s thighs and you feel them clench at the statement, which makes your jaw drop in response.  

“Oh my god, you’ve totally tried to suck your own dick before. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of. If I wasn’t so horny right now I would make you tell me the story right now, but I definitely want to hear all about this later.” you laugh while still continuing your ministrations. 

Your monologue gets a little long and Lance throws his head back and whines. When you pull back the covers and his boxers, Lance’s cock is the hardest you’ve ever seen it - the precum that sneaks out of the head only adds to your arousal as you lick your lips in anticipation . When you run your fingers over it gently it’s enough to make the Canadian boy shudder. You take your time as you kiss up and down the inside of his thighs, running your tongue over everywhere except where he needs you most.

“Please Y/N - I’ll beg, I’ll do anything. I’m just a guy who hasn’t cum in over 2 weeks and has the most beautiful girl in the world on his knees in front of him - I might just cum the minute you touch me.” 

It’s music to your ears when you hear Lance moan as you lower your mouth onto his cock. You know his body so well that you know exactly what to do to have him seeing stars. His cock is hitting the back of your throat already and Lance can’t help the way his hips buck his cock further into you. Your hands come around to cover up the part of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth, working in tandem to make sure that you’re covering every single inch. 

“You’re taking me so well princess, feels so fucking good.” Lance is filled with nothing but praise for you as your head bobs up and down on his length. 

You’re gasping for air as you finally lift your head off Lance’s dick. You take it in your hands and slap your cheek a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. It’s when you reach to cup his balls in your hand that Lance truly feels like he’s in heaven, and he says exactly that. Even in your hands they feel full, so full of cum, and you can’t help but let out a moan yourself at the feeling. You give them each the attention they deserve before Lance begs for you to go back to his cock. 

You can feel Lance’s hips start to stutter underneath you as he starts to lose control. 

“Oh god Y/N I’m gonna cum, fucking hell.” Lance tries to lift your mouth off of him, telling you that he’ll cum wherever you’d like. There was no surprise that Lance was a tits man through and through and loved seeing thick ropes of his cum over your breasts. Sometimes you’d want it on your face, sticking your tongue out the catch as much cum as you can. But today you kept your head down, ignoring Lance’s warnings as you kept your nose buried firmly towards his pubic bone. 

“Princess I’m really gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck” Lance keeps chanting your name as he cums. 

There’s so much cum that you can’t keep it all in your mouth. It drips out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin which looks absolutely sinful. Lance wishes he could take a real photo but instead resolves to committing it to memory himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Lance moans watches you swallow, proudly showing off your clean tongue to him after the fact. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most amazing girl in the entire world?” Lance says as he pulls you into a kiss.

“Maybe a couple times, but I could hear it again.” Even though Lance is always a charmer, his words still make you blush every time. 

“How about I show you instead?” Lance gets you to lay on your back, switch your positions as he starts to nestle his face in between your thighs. 

“Wait baby, I don’t want to hurt you - you’re still recovering.” The worry is evident in your voice as you stop him from diving in further. 

“My wrists may be broken but my tongue works just fine, princess.” Lance says as he uses his teeth to pull down your panties. 

— – – – —

author’s note: that scene in dts was so iconic that i just had to capture it in a fic! hope u all enjoyed it :) Until next time! - Em 🩷

[periprose]

Arachnid Anxiety

You're Spider-Woman, and you've been tasked with babysitting Mayday. Maybe you have a bit of stress that you need to vent about, and Hobie comes along quite conveniently for that purpose.

Genre: Fluff, reader having anxiety, Hobie giving her advice, very cute, reader is a Jessica Drew variant, perhaps mutual pining if you squint, takes place during the movie but before Miles arrives to the Society, terrible british slang attempts (sorry Hobie :'))

Word Count: 2.4k

Babies are hard to wrangle when they’re crawling up walls.

Of course, Peter B. Parker said that he needs a nap, just this once, and he needs someone to watch over Mayday while he sneaks away into the sleeping pods in the Spider-Society-System. Sometimes he and MJ don’t get sleep for days at a time, so you get it.

But Mayday is so curious, and you find yourself having to pull her prying hands away before she inadvertently tampers with things around Miguel’s labs and causes either a mass outage or a explosion or Miguel’s wrath. You understand why Peter is a little exhausted.

She’s a very cute baby, though, and you can’t help but coo at her as she clambers off the wall into your arms. 

“Who’s a good Spidey? Who’s gonna be the best of us?” You shake her up and down and she giggles, wrapping her arms around you. 

You instinctively flinch, feeling your Spider-Sense go off.

“Large statement to make. But I see where you’re coming from.” Spider-Punk comes up from behind you, and you turn to him. “She’s definitely punk.”

“Hey, don’t go claiming someone else’s kid as one of your own.” You joke, and Hobie scowls as he pulls off his mask.

“Don’t believe in claims. Or labels, for that matter.” He scratches his hair, looking effortless as he ever does, and you roll your eyes. “She is… who she is. Forgive me for using a descriptive word, Spider-Woman.”

“I get it.” You hold Mayday as she squeals at the sight of Hobie, and she motions in an uppy-uppy motion. She wants to be held by him, but he ignores her.

You never quite know how to feel about Hobie Brown. The Amazing Spider-Punk is revolutionary, known for being better than just his words– he holds himself to the very essence of anarchy. He practices what he preaches.

But you can’t quite get a read on the guy. You don’t know if he’s pulling your leg– or taking the piss as he would say– when he gives his bouts of advice while somehow simply being amazing through it all. He somehow knows what to say but he also isn’t the most comforting, and that in itself makes you drawn to him. He just happens to be kind of rough around the edges, and it’s because of that you know he truly means what he says. 

No sugar-coating, ever.

But you hate yourself, because you’ve somehow managed to fall for him. 

It’s not uncommon for Spideys to fall for each other. Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy. But you know this is the one time it just wouldn’t end well for you.

You can already hear Hobie’s comments if he ever found out. He’d probably rebuke you even though you’d never try anything. Tell you he doesn’t feel that way and you’re delusional for potentially thinking that he would ever tie himself down. Spiders are meant to be swinging free and all that.

Even worse, he just happens to be beautiful. You’re positive that if Hobie wasn’t so anti-everything he would have stuck with being a runway model. His face is molded in a distinctive way that has you trying to catch his glance, even if he only looks at you with nonchalance, completely unbothered, not a hint of chemistry in his eyes.

It is with great displeasure that you find yourself wanting his bored attention anyways.

And so you’ve been swallowing your crush for the greater part of a year now. You’re sure it will pass like all things do.

Pavitr, as much as you love him, has told you many times about the “chemistry” between you and Hobie– and you have told him every time to fuck off. Not in an actual harsh way, because again you can’t help but love the guy, but because you don’t need false hope.

You’re just Spider-Woman. Another red-and-yellow suited variant of Jessica Drew, you might as well just be another Peter Parker. You know that’s not how you’re supposed to think of yourself, but it’s just how it is. Canon events brought you here, and according to Miguel, it’s not something you chose– you just happened to be there at the right time and place. You’re no Jess, who comes in on her motorcycle, raging heat and excitement on her toes– you are one of the many, instead of being exceptional like the few.

You’re not like Hobie, who is as far as you know, one of a kind.

“What’s on your mind, Spider-Woman?” Hobie asks as he picks through random tech on the desk in Miguel’s lab, taking what he feels is useful for whatever it is he does with the stuff. He’s never used your name, because he doesn’t know it.

You and a few other Spider-People have chosen to stay anonymous, for different reasons, and only Miguel and Margo know who you really are. Hobie has told you before that that’s pretty cool– he only chose to give up his name because it was easier to get along with people that way. Hobie knows there’s power in people.

“Just babysitting. Obviously.” You motion to Mayday, who takes this moment to thwip out a web and swing away from you– but you’re faster and you grab her back into your arms, and she pouts.

“Nah, nah. I mean that sour expression upon your lovely little visage, imbecile.” He pokes your masked cheek, and you find yourself blushing but pulling away from him. Hobie is like that– overly familiar and no real sense of space because he doesn’t care.

“It’s not lovely.” You retort, fully convinced of it because he has never seen your face, only your incredulous expression through the eyes of your mask. 

You think that Hobie is again being sarcastic about your unknown appearance, and because his back is facing yours as he searches through random shelves now, you don’t catch how his face frowns at your response.

“Disagreements about your anonymous-but-surely beautiful face aside– not that looks matter, mind you– you’re clearly miffed about something.” Hobie turns and crosses his arms, and it’s with a little embarrassment and comfort that you want his advice. Even if it’s kind of to do with him.

“Well, I guess, uh… lately I’ve just been feeling kind of down. Like what’s the point of all this?” You bite your lip, knowing Hobie’s feelings on nihilism. “I don’t mean like nothing in life matters, Hobie. I mean more that I don’t matt– I don’t… anyways, I feel useless. I don’t have anything special about me, I don’t really bring anything to the Spider-Society that wasn’t already brought.”

"Whoa whoa whoa. Nah, lady, you've got your priorities all twisted." Hobie pulls your arms, bringing you kind of closer to him, and rests his hands on your shoulders, making you listen. "This inner hatred stuff– that sick urge to feel shame and then blast it inside of yourself, all that repression, yeah? It's a crock of shit."

"Huh?" You and Mayday both peer up at him. You behind your mask, and she with her crocheted one. 

Hobie picks up Mayday, finally giving into her wishes to be held by him, and she immediately giggles. There’s a subtle smile on his face that warms him to you a little.

"It might feel good in the moment. It might even feel revolutionary." Hobie scowls, and scratches his jaw. "It's worthless. Notice, Spider, I didn't call you worthless. The very action is garbage, a visceral thing that brings no productive value– that's what they want you to feel."

"Ah, because then I'll never fight against the establishment, right, Hobie? I'll be too busy fighting myself." You say mockingly, taking on a fake-pretentious-Cockney accent, mimicking him, but Hobie gives you a chill look and nods.

"Now you're getting it."

"Aw." You slump and slouch and sit on the counter full of gadgets and gizmos next to him. "I know you're right, but… don't you ever get people getting mad at you?"

"You've lost me."

"Like… being so responsible." You roll your eyes as Hobie snickers and whispers the spider-mantra you all know so well. "Or just living by your own ideology so… efficiently. It's almost like a slap in the face to the rest of us Spiders. We don’t know how to cope, and here comes along Spider-Punk with all his personal assurance that even if things aren't alright, he'll make it alright for himself."

"Oi, trust me, it wasn't all that easy." Hobie sniffs and sits down next to you, holding Mayday close and then letting her go as she crawls onto the wall in front of you. "You really think I haven't had a bad day? I haven’t had my moments of self doubt, huh?”

“Uh… well. When you put it like that, it does sound kind of crazy.” You admit, and nudge him with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean any harm, Hobie. I just feel so… inadequate.”

“Just stop.” He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and you feel that yet again, he’s somewhat unreadable. “Don’t think those things. You’re not inadequate.”

“But I–”

“Stop.” He grasps your hands, and squeezes them tightly in his own, and you wonder if Hobie has ever looked this seriously at you, his eyes soft yet firm with affection.

You’re in trouble, you think. Your heart is pounding and you’re really glad he can’t see your face.

“I don’t think you know how important you are.” He utters so quietly, in that very deep voice that has you leaning in to hear him better. “You’re not nothing, Spider-Woman. You’ve done a lot of good for your Earth-257, I’m sure, and that makes you something special. Like the rest of us– you’re kind of irreplaceable, right?”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess.’” Hobie punches the side of your arm and you pretend to say ow, laughing a little. “If you didn’t exist, we’d all be poorer for it. Peter couldn’t ask you to chill with his baby, and I couldn’t be here talking your ear off.”

“But I’m not– I don’t really compare to her, you know?” You say without thinking, and then immediately squint at your own stupidity. 

“Who’s her?” Hobie is wary of how your expression is shifting. “Stacy?”

“Uh, no.” You inhale, exhale, and then decide it’s time to get it over with. “Jess.”

“Jess? Jessica Drew, huh?” Hobie smirks a little. “You don’t want to be adopted by her, do you?”

“More complicated than Gwen’s weird fantasy.” You shift on your spot on the counter, and pull off your mask after a minute of tribulations. “I’m… also Jessica Drew.”

You feel incredibly shy as Hobie takes in your face, wary of his every move as you feel yourself sweating, and he grasps your face gently, peering into your eyes and taking a look at your features, as if he’s really trying to remember them.  

“Huh.”

“What is it?” You say a little too defensively, and he shrugs. 

“You do have a lovely visage, you silly little sod. Even if it’s completely different from Jess’ face.” He laughs as you shove him away, covering your face in your hands. “No, don’t do that.”

He’s tracing your jaw, and he murmurs. “Maybe you could use a few piercings… a tat or two… ever thought about it?”

“No.” You shut your eyes. “I’m not cool like you.”

“Oh, shut it.” He leans in imperceptibly closer, and you blink, eyes open. Maybe Pavitr had a point that Hobie and you have something, because there’s not really another explanation for that look in his eyes. “You’re plenty cool, Jessica Drew. It was just a shit suggestion of mine.”

You think Hobart “Hobie” Brown is sweeter than you previously thought. You have half a mind to tell him about your feelings.

You and Hobie both look up, Spider-Senses tingling, and sure enough, Mayday is cooing from the ceiling– she leaps into your already waiting arms. She giggles at your expression.

Oh well, you think. There’ll be some other time to work up the courage to tell him.

Hobie half-smirks at her. “Way to interrupt us, Mayday.”

She looks at him all confused, tilting her head in a “huh?” motion, and you feel the same way, not entirely sure what Hobie meant by that and not willing to assume either.

He answers you by pulling your face in a sudden, swift motion, connecting his lips to yours, and in between the two of you, Mayday shrieks and laughs. She crawls off to the side of you, no longer smothered between your torsos.

Hobie is weirdly insistent– you feel like he’s been wanting to do this for a while, maybe longer than the length of your conversation (you don’t know if this is just a funny little fling for him, but you’re fairly sure it isn’t) and he’s a lot taller and lankier than you, so he really has to tower over you to reach your mouth better. He’s grasping your jaw and neck and the back of your head with a lot of intensity– you feel wildly dizzy when he pulls away.

“Uh.” Peter B. Parker is standing in front of you both, mouth wide open, and you look back at Hobie and he grins rather coolly, not really giving a damn. It’s enough to make you snort. “Wait, who are you?”

“Oh. Spider-Woman from Earth 257.” You remember Peter has never seen your face, either. “Jessica Drew?”

“Right, right.” Peter raises his hands in a whoop-de-doo motion, like he should’ve known that. “Nice to know what you look like behind the mask. Not nice to know that you’ve been avoiding your babysitting duties. Why are you two fooling around like prepubescent children? What happened to responsibility?”

“Ahhhhh, please, Peter. Live a little.” Hobie stands up, his full length of height drawing him to about the same height as Peter if not an inch taller. He picks up Mayday and hands her off to him. “Let’s not act as if you and MJ weren’t shacking up in the sleeping pods last week, yeah? Does Miguel need to know about how irresponsible you were?”

You think he’s kidding, but Peter pales and you clap your hands over your mouth, trying not to laugh. Miguel would absolutely throw a fit if he found that out.

“Uh…” Peter swallows. “At least that’s not an interdimensional tragedy-in-the-making like you two.”

“There’s no rules against that, I don’t think.” Hobie shrugs. “And if there are, fuck them. Miguel doesn’t know it all.”

“He really is punk to the very end.” Peter groans and leaves out to the hallway with Mayday. 

Hobie flashes a smile at you as he sits back down, ruffling your hair.

[totaly-obsessed]

Goals and Glitter

Alexia Putellas x reader

-> Alexia comes in to teach a class for Alba and her co-worker

-> Happy early birthday to @wosoamazing!

-> Word Count: 3.100

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Alba have you seen my - Oh.”

Stunned Alexia stood still in her sister's living room. She had just given herself entry to Alba’s house, trying to find one of her favorite dresses that she couldn’t find since the last time that her sister had visited her.

But she hadn’t exactly expected her sister to have someone over. This wasn’t the first time that the footballer had barged in on Alba’s situation-ships, but this looked quite different than she was used to.

Papers were scattered all around the room, and she had nearly stepped into an open glue stick that was just left on the ground. Alba was sitting on the floor, as close to the coffee table as humanly possible, covered in glitter and paper scraps. 

But she wasn’t alone. Next to her, just as messy as her sister were you. Eyes wide in surprise at the blonde who had just loudly made an entrance to the room that had previously been filled with excited chatter, just the music was playing in the background.

“Hello.”

Alba couldn’t help but laugh at her sister, who had always been awkward when she was confronted with unusual or unsuspected situations.

“Hi.”-

Dear God, You weren’t any better either.

The soft music kept playing in the background until Alba couldn’t take it any longer. “Alexia, this is y/n, the teacher I am sharing my class with this year, you know the one I already told you about? y/n, this is Alexia, my older sister, she’s a weirdo who doesn’t respect my privacy. Or closed doors.”

The room plunged into awkward silence while Alexia and you stared at each other, Alba taking a figurative step back, watching the two of you, like it was a tennis match, even though nothing was happening.

“Do - Do you want to join us? We’re trying to make the next PE lessons for the kids.” The blonde still just stood there, frozen in the door as you looked at her, a hopeful glint in your eyes.

“It’s football.”

Well if you would have said that first, the footballer would have already said yes yesterday, but it had been Alba, who knew how to get her sister back to earth. “We’re trying to explain the rules to the kids.” As if to underline your co-workers, and friends, statements, you held up a hot-pink flashcard, with ‘Goal kick’ in fancy letters at the top and a definition beneath that.

“A type of restart where the ball is kicked from inside the goal area; awarded to the defending team when a ball that crossed the goal line was last touched by a player on the attacking team.”

The midfielder's eyebrows went up with hesitation. “You’re gonna use that, to explain to seven-year-olds?”

Alba’s head snapped up, ready to pounce on the opportunity. “Well we’re not the pros, you are! So what do you think? Could re-work the cards and come into class to teach the kids first hand!”

The footballer seemed to consider, eyebrows still furrowed as she looked at one of the other flashcards. “Well you could use some help, that’s for sure.”

“Great! You have time tomorrow, and so does y/n. Same time, at your place!” Alba didn’t give her sister time to protest, instead stacking all her already-made cards together before shoving them into Alexia's hands.

“I’ll send you her number, we need to go now!” And with that the young teacher pulled you up by your hand, dragging you out of the door, leaving Alexia behind, who was still frozen in place, now all alone in a house that wasn’t hers.

Why was she here again?

—

The following day Alexia was pacing in her living room, a simple rule book on her coffee table, anxiously waiting for you to arrive. Alba had indeed given her your number, leaving it up to the blonde to contact you. And she did, with a timid “Hey, it’s Alexia! Here’s my address, does the time still work for you?”

Your much more cheerful response had been very much welcomed by the footballer, who for some reason, unbeknownst to her, couldn’t stop smiling at a silly picture of you and Alba that you had set as your profile picture.

While she had been waiting for you to come, the actual sound of the doorbell startled her to no end, before hurrying towards it, hearing Narla bark quietly, somewhere else in her house.

“Hi Ale!”

A shy smile was on the midfielders as she opened the door further, gesturing for you to come in. While she was closing the door, you had already taken off your shoes, placing them neatly on the ground.

“Oh you could have just kept them on, no need to have cold -” Just at that moment you pulled out a pair of fluffy slippers out of your massive handbag and put them on, “-feet.”

“My Mama would kill me if she knew I was wearing shoes in such a lovely house Ale.” 

The blonde could hear her own mother scolding her for entering her childhood home with dirty sneakers over and over again. But Alexia had always been in a hurry, even as a child. Scarfing down dinner so that she could go out and play football with her friends, not even changing her clothes. “You brought slippers.”

“Mhmm, I did! I always have them on me, never know when your feet start hurting.”

And in that moment Alexia knew that Eli would love you.

The Spaniard leads you through a gorgeous hallway into an even prettier living room. It was light and warm. It felt familiar and in many places, you could see a little bit of your best friend Alba shine through. She definitely chose that pink fluffy blanket for when she came over, and the amount of pictures on the walls truly showed how much Alexia loved her family and friends, sometimes she wasn’t even in them.

“Don’t be mad, but I got rid of your flashcards.” She looked at you in anticipation, after all, she had gotten rid of your and Alba’s work, and she knew how her sister would react if she had been here. “Oh, no worries! You know the game best at the end of the day!”

Well, that had gone over much better than expected.

“Would you like a coffee?”

“That would be lovely Ale, thank you so much!”

In the kitchen, she could take a couple of deep breaths. Why was she so nervous? The only thing she’s supposed to do is help you with your class, help them learn about football - her life. But now with you sitting there on her couch, the prettiest smile and pink fluffy slippers she could feel herself melting like vapor in the sun.

“Oh hello!”

Your voice was an entire octave higher than before, as you greeted someone. Shit, she forgot about Nala. A tray of coffee, milk, and sugar was thrown together as quickly as the blonde could before she hurried back to the living room, fearing how her small, but feisty dog was attacking you.

“You’re such a good girl!”

Much to Alexia’s surprise Nala was on the couch, laying in your lap, letting you pet her stomach. The dog was writhing back and forth with happy little yips, looking at you offended once you stopped, nudging your hand with her nose so that you would continue.

“Oh, sorry! Is she not allowed on the couch?”

Alexia was still standing there, tray in hand and had not moved an inch. Seems to be a common theme once you are around. What was up with her? You’re just meeting so she can tell you about football. No other reason. 

“No! Uhmm, Nala’s fine, don’t worry. She just doesn’t like new people. Well, usually.”

With a shrug, you gestured for her to sit down, as she was still standing there. The sun hit her back perfectly, bathing her in a glowy afternoon sun. She was the most stunning person you had ever seen, an incredible physique with an even better smile, and an awkward personality upon first meeting, that you just had to love.

There wasn’t much planning done, the blonde reassuring you that she would take care of it after deciding on a date, where (coincidentally of course) Alba wasn’t there. Most of the time together was spent drinking coffee and chatting about the most random things like Alexia’s dog lead collection and your incredibly large caffeine consumption. The blonde didn’t want to agree, that it was very on-brand for a teacher to drink a lot of coffee and energy drinks, insisting that it was very unhealthy and her coaches and trainers would have her head. Alexia loved watching you laugh, saying the weirdest things that she knew would make you laugh, talking a lot about Alba and Nala, hoping that you would never stop.

“I think I should get going now, it’s already getting dark. Thank you so much for having me Ale, and I will see you on Friday! Let me know if something comes up?” Alexia was adamant that there was nothing in this world that could make her forget, or come in between their agreed on date.

—

You had warmed your students up to Alexia coming, reminding them again and again to be calm not yell too much, and to listen to your guest. So when Friday arrived the kids knew what was coming. You had cleared the rest of the day, pushing the lessons back and cutting out what wasn’t needed just so your new ‘friend’ would be in no time rush. 

When there was a timid knock at the door the kids straightened up in their seats, excited to meet the woman that you had been talking so much about and to finally see her in person. After introducing the idea of Alexia coming into your students, a few girls squealed in excitement - telling you all about how big fans they were, and that they watched her play on TV.

“¡Hola clase!”

The footballer was met with a silent classroom as came in, but she could see the jitters and bouncing legs of the students as they looked at her with wide-open eyes.

"What did we practice yesterday, class?” the students jumped up from their seats, standing in the walkways “¡Buenos días Alexia!”. Well, that wasn’t what you had practiced. The older teachers make the students stand behind their chairs and greet them in a choir, it seems like their brains defaulted back to what they know instead of just staying seated like they usually do in your and Alba’s classes.

“Good job you guys! Right, so let’s all grab our gym bags and then we’ll make our way to the gym. Remember to find your buddy in two rows please!”

Alexia was stunned, watching you talk to twenty kids like it was nothing, floating back and forth, making sure all kids were accounted for and had their change of clothes.

“¡Hola Ale! Thank you so much for coming, the Kids are so excited!” And so were you. Not that you would ever say it but you had called Alba in a hurry, asking her what to wear and what to bring for food, insisting on bringing something for her sister 

The younger Putellas was greatly amused, telling their mother all about the mutual forming crushes between you and her sister. You had met Eli at a summer festivity last year, where you and Alba had decided to take on a class together, and it was safe to say that the women loved you. Just like her daughters, she had been enamored with your smile and friendly personality. Hearing that Alexia had taken a liking to you, filled her with joy. A perfect fit.

“Thank you for having me, I am also really excited to meet them!” Those kids meant the world to you, and she could see it. Your hand was clutching her forearm before shoving a lunchbox into her bag. “Would you mind walking in the back? So that no one gets lost? I still get a bit anxious about making the trip.”

The footballer was much more on the calmer side, watching as you counted the kids again and again. “Don’t worry, no one will get lost on our watch, we’ve got this. Hmm?” With a gentle squeeze of your hand, she let go, making her way to the back of the line, immediately helping one of the shorter girls to put on her jacket.

Ben, a very anxious little guy, was already at the front of the line waiting to hold your hand like he usually did when the class left the room. “Let’s go then!”

You led the kids to the changing rooms before taking Alexia to one of the teacher's rooms. “Uhm, you can change here if you want to. I’ll look for another one!” Before you can close the door a warm hand closes around your wrist. “We can both change here if that’s alright with you. It's a big room.”

Alexia could see your nervousness as you turned around. “I won’t look, promise.” With a deep sigh, you decided to give in. Finding another unoccupied room would take too long and it was a part of the job, right? She probably changed in front of 10 people daily. But you were not a footballer that worked out three times a day.

There was a smug smile on Alexia’s face after she caught you staring at her abs in the mirror. “Hard work and dedication.” You could feel the heat shoot into your face as you looked away ashamed. She looked good and she knew it. The blonde was quite happy that you didn’t catch her staring at you. After all, she had a persona to fulfill. “Come on, let’s go!”

Even though she didn’t know where she was going, Alexia led you out of the room in the direction of shouting children. “Is it a possibility to go outside with the kids?” Sure she could do the exercises indoors, but most football was played outdoors and the weather was ideal for it. “Yeah, we have a small pitch just behind the gym.”

The kids were happy to hear you would go out, running in front of Alexia and you, who hand back to chat, in no need to hurry. But Ben was now glued to Alexia's hand, which felt very different in comparison to yours.

“Are you married to our teacher Miss Alexia?”

His endearing little voice sliced through the comfortable silence that took over after talking about your guy's plan. Ale couldn’t help but laugh at his innocent question and the way you seemed to find the floor incredibly interesting. “No, I’m not!”

The little boy let go of his new hero's hand and started running to his classmates, “That’s really sad!”, and then he was off.

“Well, he is certainly a character.” The blonde's arm brushed against yours, sending tingles all through your body. “Usually he’s quite shy. Sorry, I didn’t think he’d say that.” The smile was back on Alexia's face, “Oh don’t you worry.” Your head whipped up, questioning her statement as she continued to look ahead with a perfect poker face.

On the field, which admittedly could have been mowed before going there, the kids sat down, not caring that their clothes got dirty as Alexia stood in front of them, a book in her hands

“Hello everyone! I’m Alexia, and your teacher Miss Putellas, is my little sister! I am here today to teach you guys a little about football, my favorite sport of all time. Does anyone else like football here?” Seeing little girls jump up, with arms in the air shouting “Me! Me!” warmed the blonde's heart. 

How far the women’s game has come.

The next hour was filled with kids laughing as Alexia pushed them back and forth while explaining set pieces and general rules of the game, while you sat to the side, giving her a ball if she needed one.

An unexpected arm makes its way around your shoulders before a warm breath hits your ear “How’s it going?”

It was Alba, who had now sat down next to you, a cheeky smile on her face, that didn’t look that far off from her sister’s smug one. “What are you doing here?”

“Well I couldn’t just leave you two love birds alone here, could I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. And you weren’t staring at her ass.”

“You’re delusional.”

Hearing her sister's loud laugh made Alexia turn her head at an impressive speed, catching her pinching your cheek in teasing. Quickly she told the kids what to practice before jogging over to you and Alba. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, dear sister! This is my class as well if you haven’t forgotten?”

Of course, she hadn’t. Really. How could she ever forget about her sister?

“I thought you didn’t have the class today?”

Alba couldn’t help but laugh at her sister's annoyed face. Her plan had worked, she had officially crashed whatever this was. “I didn't. But I can’t miss out on seeing you in my workspace, can I?” Her sister grunted, annoyed that she couldn’t have the day to herself. And the kids of course.

The rest of the day was spent with Alexia teaching the kids, managing incredibly well for someone who doesn’t usually work with 22 kids under the age of 10. Meanwhile, Alba made good use of her time by teasing you left, right, and center, not missing a chance to make fun of your obvious attraction to her sister, while you tried to help the footballer with moving cones or explaining something again.

The kids were much quieter on the way back, Ale had tired them out quite well, but Ben still wouldn’t leave Alexia’s side.

“Miss Alexia?”

“Yes, Ben?”

“Evie said that people date before they get married. So are you and Miss y/n dating?”

And there it was again, that nagging heat in your cheeks as Alexia looked up from your student, into your eyes. “I don’t know Ben, let me ask your teacher.”

Alba was trying not to scream while walking a couple of paces in front of you, pushing kids back into line when they wandered off, many of them trying to get back to her sister as they were now very interested in the blond woman.

“Would you like to go out on a date with me?”

“I would love to go on a date with you Alexia.”

A squeal left young Ben’s mouth before he let go of your new date’s hand, sprinting back to his friends and grabbing Alba’s hand. 

“I did it, Miss Putellas! They’re gonna get married!”

[ncis-nerd]

The Case Of The Purring Kitten

grey novemeber au

older!nat x reader

Liho purred in your arms. Nuzzling her head against your ankle. The sweet little kitty of Natasha's had made her way into your room. Of course you were shocked when the cat just strolled in like this was a casual occurrence.

You didn't complain though, you loved that kitty. She smelled like Natasha and meant a lot that even her cat wanted to be around you. You stroked the cat as you continued to draw in your sketchbook. A purr escaped from Liho.

When you were close to finishing, you swapped your 2b pencil for a heavier pencil, Liho jumped out of your lap. Appear she was making her rounds because she just waltzed out of your room. That silly cat.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

Later that day, there was a knock in your door. You had been locked up in your room all day. There was no meeting planned for today so who could it be? "Come in" you mumbled, wrapping up in your latest art project. Natasha made her way into your room. You jumped, not expecting it to be the the red-head, you immediately shut your notebook. Not wanting to ruin your surprise.

Natasha looked at you, furrowing her eyebrows. "Hiding something, hun?' She glared at you. You shook your head and looked at her with your doe eyes, knowing that would distract her. And it definitely did.

She loved seeing you so wide-eyed. So innocent. Nothing but love and pure thoughts behind those eyes. She cooed at you and caressed your back. "hi honey, you still here with me?" she gave you a gentle smile.

You nodded, "m' here natty. want you though" you mumbled, fidgeting with her hoodie drawstring. Her eyes widened at your statement. "What do you mean hun?" She looked at you, her cheeks turning red. Obviously not expecting your boldness. "wanna lay down in your lap, want you to hold me" you mumble.

She smiled at your innocent request. Of course that's what you meant, she mentally facepalmed herself. She gladly took up your offer, taking you into her lap. Your head laid in her lap, she stroked your hair as your eyes began to flutter. "go to sleep, angel." she whispered softly.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

It was later that day, Natasha had retreated to her room, allowing you to get back to business. The so called business was the drawing you were working on earlier. You had finally finished and made your way to Natasha's room. Natasha is gonna love it!

You knocked her door and slipped the folded up drawing under her door before retreating to your room.

Natasha opened the door, she saw no one so she closed it. Huh that was odd, she thought. She felt something beneath her foot. It was a paper, she picked it up. As she unfolded it, a beautifully drawn picture of Liho appeared. Y/n. Of course, this was so kind. Her heart melted your generosity.

She wanted to make it up to you.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

Your favorite activity with the russian is to drink hot chocolate and watch a movie wrapped up into her. She grabbed your favorite fluffy blanket of hers, a bunch of pillows, some a big bowl of popcorn and rich hot chocolate.

She opened up the TV to the streaming platform, leaving it for you to choose the movie. all that was left was to grab you. The older woman made her way to her room where you had been reading a novel you bought recently.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

You were humming the tune of that new song by Taylor Swift when you heard a knock at your door. Who could that be? You assumed it would be the russian, especially after giving her your drawing earlier and fleeing. your stomach turned in knots, nervously you stood up to open the door.

You were greeted with the green-eyed spy giving you a warm smile. "Hey honey, I love the gift you gave me! As a thank you, I have a little surprise in the living room. Please join me?" She spoke softly, waiting for a response. You blushed, this was so kind of her. You didn't expect something in return. Just wanted to show how much you love her little fluff ball. "Natasha you didn't have too.. but I'm glad you like the drawing!" You said, shyly.

Natasha took your hand and led you to the living room where she had a pile of blankets- the kind you like, hot chocolate- your favorite, popcorn- you NEED popcorn whenever watching a movie. Your eyes started to tear up. "Natasha, wow... This is.. Amazing" you gasp.

The russian admired your reaction. You were adorable, her hand found it's place on your back and motioned for you to take a seat. "Wanted to show you how special you are to me, dove." She hummed, handing you the remote to pick out a movie.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

taglist: @ssa-shaylam @madamevirgo

[lowkeyremi]

Late Nights aizawa x reader

it's my birthday so im writing about the man i share it with (-ε-)

content: post war au, fluff, established relationship

"This isn't good for your health, Sho." Today marks the 5th night he's stayed up past 11 pm grading papers or doing something else for his job.

"How do you think I managed before I met you?" His small sigh meets your ears, and you really want to help him. Seeing out of only one eye is most definitely slowing him down.

"You looked dead on the outside when we first met. Do you want me to help grade papers?"

"I'll finish before one, go back to bed, honey." His eyes meet yours once he hears you scoff. He's draining himself by staying up this late, every single night. His face is lit by the warm kitchen light, one of his hands tugging at his long black strands of hair in order to keep himself sane.

"Shota. I'm not taking no for an answer." You say firmly, crossing your arms to indicate that you mean business.

"I knew you'd say that, come sit down." He gives in every single time. He knows he needs the help, he just doesn't want to admit it.

"Can you read through these essays?" At first you're confident, there's only a few papers on the table.

"Can you?" You nod diligently. You confirm you're willing to help, and your husband gets up from the table and slowly walks toward your shared bedroom. When he does return there's a large stack of papers in his arms. They drop on the table with a thump. He chuckles at your horrified expression.

"Just get through as many as you can. Write feedback on them too, hon." No wonder he's always so tired, you forget that 1-A isn't his only class. If you can remember right he has six periods of classes.

"Is this pile all your class or.." He's sat back down by now and started going through papers with red pen.

"That's 3rd and 4th period. I'm finishing up with 1st and 2nd right now." You click your tongue. It's hard to get started, you don't have any motivation unlike Shota. His only motivation is probably the fact he has to do this.

"Why don't you have an online classroom? It would make grading so much easier." He's probably going to say something about not knowing how to use it..

"I prefer for my students to write manually, because it helps with remembrance." Sounds like something an old man would say. You'd voice your opinion but he'd have a comeback for sure.

-----

"Shotaaaaa, I don't wanna do anymore." Your head is resting on the table, the cool wood on your cheek. He doesn't even spare you any sympathy either, laughing at you quietly. His rich chuckles sound like comfort more than mockery in your opinion though.

"Sweetheart, you've only graded four essays." The huge stack of papers looks back at you from it's side of the table.

"Yeah and each essay had like four to five papers in it. I feel bad for your students." The two of you are going to cuddle. You're determined to make it happen, so before he could even reply, you bounce up from your seat, grab his hand, and tug him towards your bedroom.

"We're going to sleep. I'm not taking any other answers besides "okay" or "yes my love." He clicks his tongue at your statement, but finds no reason to oblige.

-----

"Do you want to know something?" He whispers into your ear cuddling you close enough to feel the warmth of his chest on your back.

"What?" At this point you're only half-conscious, struggling to register what your husband's just said.

"I'm actually ahead of schedule. I can grade those papers loosely throughout this week." He admits with no guilt or shame in his voice at all. What a workaholic.

"Are you serious? So I could have been cuddling you all this time?"

"Yeah, I just do work to get out of my head." You wonder how many times you'll have to remind him that you're his strength and that you'll help him through anything, before he actually believes it.

"If you were having trouble sleeping, you should have told me." His big hand rests in your hair playing with it slowly.

"Didn't wanna bother you." His hand is so comforting that you almost fall asleep.

"You're never a bother to me Sho." Your voice is so soft and sincere that he almost breaks out into tears of joy. He's so happy to have met you.

"Oh." It has finally clicked in his brain, even though you've been married to him for quite some time.

You are his light.

[lunahearts]

Okay I'm doing it. I'm chapter 96 posting.

This is not meant to be a big analysis post this is mostly just me sharing all the little moments that Marcille & Laios show their care for each other because they are SO beloved to me. Join me on the journey if you wish.

(but also the above statement may be a lie. I do have a point here, it turns out, and the point gets at some of my Big Feelings of what Dungeon Meshi has to say about the nature of friendship & living in the world)

So, first of all, the conversation about Laios being king at the start of the chapter. Just in general Laios insisting on presenting himself in his own way here is so good. Character development!!

Before the events of the story he hadn't shared his inner world with anyone but Falin. Now he's like Actually I'm gonna dress up in the discarded remains of my monstersona and that's just how it is.

And even though there are a LOT of parts of the story and bits of character growth that go into this, I think it specifically highlights some interactions from a few chapters ago.

After all, his initial reaction to having been in that monster form & coming out of it was trying to hide from everyone.

And I think everyone helping him put things in perspective here contributes to how he is able to present himself as king. They assure him that he is accepted, despite having just been seen by EVERYONE at his Peak "Weird Monster Guy" mode.

Highlighting what Marcille says here especially:

Going out to "face them with a smile" is EXACTLY what he does. Not right away. He's still pretty stressed in the following scene in this chapter. But he is able to face the crowds with a smile, eventually...

As king. Dressed in the memory of his most vulnerable moments, the most honest expression of his desire.

BUT I'M GETTING A LITTLE AHEAD OF MYSELF. Before the King Laios speech, there's a little moment with Marcille I want to highlight, because...

Did y'all know that by the end of the manga, Marcille isn't like... grossed out by eating monsters any more? Or at least, she's definitely changed her reaction to it. It's Namari who makes the "yeah it smells good despite what it is" comment, not Marcille.

We even get shots later of Tansu, Shuro, and Kabru being kinda grossed out by - but still going ahead and eating - the different Falin foods. Chilchuck also throws out a line about it being surprised that it's good.

But there's no disparaging comment from Marcille, despite the Everything of the situation. I just think that's also a nice little detail. She may not be as far in the monster eating game as Laios, but she's more willing to roll with the weirdness.

So after this little moment, this is when Laios comes out in his new regal outfit. And first of all...

This is such a good contrast to the moment when the group goes to save Marcille in chapter 84. The monsters had stopped attacking, and everyone's reactions to Laios and the others framed him as unsettling. Creepy. Maybe even traitors.

They even use some of the same labels (lord of the monsters/lord of the dungeon, dark lord/demon king)., but the context is that they are disgusted. The parallels in this manga....

Have a tendency to destroy me. What a difference in reception.

Anyway, after this moment, Laios stops to talk to the group... and I'd like to point out again: MARCILLE ISN'T FLIPPANT HERE EITHER!!

Chilchuck is still Chilchuck, of course, and I want to be clear I love that, too. Chilchuck is who he is to his core. His little jabs are very affectionate in this chapter.

But Marcille... Marcille only points to the Winged Lion symbol as being weird, not the monster bits. And like, considering what she's just been through with the lion, being skeptical of that part is... fair.

(don't get me wrong, her "that's fine and all" isn't exactly excitement. BUT the point I'm trying to make is less about her completely changing her feelings & preferences. It's more about how she expresses them, and how she treats Laios and HIS feelings & preferences)

And she continues to be so encouraging!! Wah!! Like, despite, all four of these people definitely caring about Laios, it's Marcille specifically who tells him to relax and just be honest. And you know what? I think that's what Falin would have said, too.

Please also note how cute everyone's little faces are in the crowd:

(see, Chilchuck loves him too!! Look at that fond face, and the cheer. and Senshi! and Namari! They really are such a family)

Laios' short speech actually has a little bit I'd like to highlight as well, since I think it is a nice little reflection of his choice to keep the lion insignia on his new outfit:

"Eat to your heart's content," he says. Not just "enjoy," or "let's eat."

Dunmeshi does such a wonderful job of framing so much about the Winged Lion with nuance, and this is a good example of that. Desire is not bad! Craving and consuming is beautiful. As Laios says when explaining the lion insignia...

It's not just something to get rid of.

So then... on to the feast!

And not only does Marcille not express any grossed out feelings, as I mentioned before... she even helps to gross out Chilchuck!!

Her weird girl powers are only just in their infancy. She will only grow more powerful in time...

As the feast goes on of course we get the group's realization about her hair, and I'd like to point out:

I really feel like they have such similar reactions to finding out about how the other has been affected by the Winged Lion

Just... the quiet concern. Not making a huge fuss, but... worried. Understanding. A little heartbroken for each other.

SPEAKING OF HEARTBROKEN REACTIONS THOUGH. WHAT COMES NEXT REALLY GETS ME.

After Chilchuck braids Marcille's hair for her, the topic of her needing to leave everyone comes up and...

God, these expressions. Every Time I see these panels I think about about what Laios saw in her nightmare. Her fears. The weight of inevitable loneliness, and the way it has marked her. As much as Marcille tries to keep things light when talking about it, he knows what this means to her. And it HURTS.

So he doesn't accept it. But do you notice how he frames this. Do you see. Not "do you want me to fix this." Not "hey I have an idea."

"Would you be willing to stay."

He doesn't know whether she will accept. Whether she will hate the idea, actually, of staying here with him. He's putting himself out there fully prepared for rejection & dismissal, as he has faced many times before.

But his pitch, his proposal to her, it's not JUST an excuse to ask her to stay, either. He's put thought into this. Into what Marcille could mean and do here. Not just to and for him, but for the people of this area. The place he has taken responsibility for.

He's also thinking about Falin. And about all the other little girls, the people of all sorts, just like her. He's thinking about the people who have been killed (burned at the stake???), hurt, shunned. About the people who have been abandoned. The people who are still alone.

He's not just offering Marcille an out from her isolation, he's offering her a new purpose. A new way to continue her work, to do the things she cares about. He SEES her! he understands her.

BUT ALSO HE'S SO NERVOUS OUGH. FIDDLING WITH THE PLATE. UNSURE IF SHE WILL CARE. UNSURE IF HE HAS IT RIGHT.

HE'S NOT GOOD WITH PEOPLE HE'S NOT GOOD AT THIS.

BUT THEY UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER. AND SHE WANTS THIS LIFE HE'S OFFERING HER.

Still... it's not that simple for her, even if for a moment she is swept up in how much she wants this.

Again here, Marcille is working so hard to be chill about the whole 'going west with the elves' thing. She looks absolutely devastated in the first panel, but puts on a smile in the second.

Maybe she doesn't want to bring down the mood. Maybe she doesn't want to burden everyone with what seems like the only option she has. Maybe she had already accepted the cost that might come with bringing Falin back. Maybe after everything with the Winged Lion, she doesn't want to risk letting herself fight for her desires too hard.

But hey. Desires aren't always bad. They aren't something to just get rid of.

A small bit of visual storytelling here... I love that Marcille is confined by the panel, but Laios is stepping outside of it. He's literally pulling her outside of the box she feels trapped in.

Also, I love that his first acts as king are:

1) welcome everyone to a big feast

2) stand by his friend and help her find happiness

It's great stuff and it's so Laios.

In addition to that, I love how this whole act actually plays out. I love that, while getting the elves to let Marcille go, he gets to be extremely cool and protective...

but also like. Not THAT cool and protective.

No really, I mean it! I think it's important! It's important that cool 'suave king guy Laios' is a front he puts up when he needs to deal with these strangers, and one that he completely drops once it's just him and Marcille.

He's not trying to impress her, or convince her he's cool and suave. Why would he? He trusts that she's okay with the messy, often unimpressive, sometimes kinda gross reality of who he is.

And isn't that what Dungeon Meshi is all about? Messy, unimpressive, gross reality. And how beautiful, how wonderful, how very precious it is

Especially when you get to share it with your friends.

[lesservillain]

vi. for you, there'll be no more crying

summary: things change between you and eddie for the better cw: SMUT, unprotected piv, a fight with rick, eddie recounts what happened to him last year a/n: it's happening!!!!

It’s been almost a month since you’ve seen Eddie Munson.

As you lay in bed after a long day of clinicals, your fingertips and toes still cold from the January snow nipping at them in your school uniform. The blizzard that hit at the beginning of the week left several feet of snow all across Indiana, leaving an appropriate setting for the way you’ve been feeling as of late.

Because you should be at the Munson’s today. You should have been at the Munson’s just about every day since the last time you saw them. But, unexpectedly, you’d been told that you wouldn’t be needed anymore, at least for a little while. It wasn’t a reassuring statement in the least. 

You’d took it as maybe just a couple of days, but as February draws closer, you’re starting to feel as if you’d never see your two favorite men ever again.

You didn’t know for sure, but you had a feeling as to why you’d been asked not to come back. It was…embarrassing to think about. You’ve been kicking yourself ever since it happened. 

That night on new years when you and Eddie kissed. Accident or not, it felt like the fireworks outside were going off behind your eyelids. Never have you ever felt so…so…connected to someone just from a kiss. And you were certain by the way Eddie was looking at you that he was feeling it, too.

But, now…Maybe he wasn’t red from enjoyment. Maybe it was from disgust.

You didn’t get much time to dwell on it, though. Because immediately after the phone rang, police chief Hopper calling for Eddie. It scared you to see Eddie’s face drop the way it did. You had a sinking feeling it had to do with Wayne. But when Eddie asked you to take him home right away, it left you confused. 

He wouldn’t tell you anything. Not even budging a little bit. 

“It’s not bout Wayne. He’s fine.” 

That’s the extent of information that you were given.

The next day is when Wayne called, reluctantly telling you that you didn’t need to come out for a while. They were having family issues and Wayne was going to be home to take care of him, so you didn’t have to bother with them.

You tried to argue. Tried to tell them that you would come out just to cook and keep them company if need be, but Wayne was insistent that you don’t make the drive out. At least not until they tell you it’s okay. You finally agreed, but it didn’t feel good. Especially since it didn’t make sense.

Eddie and Wayne made it very clear that they didn’t have any family in town. Eddie might have some grandparents in Tennessee, but they’re on his moms side of the family and they’d not heard from them in years. So what kind of family emergency could it possibly be?

After thinking it through, you’ve come to the conclusion that the phone call from Hopper was unrelated and that Eddie was just using it as an excuse to get rid of you. 

The kiss was clearly too much for him. It had you wondering if there were times where you’d been too unprofessional. Maybe you were supposed to decline their invitations to come over for holidays. They were just being nice asking you to come over, they didn’t actually mean it.

It was even worse when you called on Wayne’s birthday last week. No one answered, so you just left a voicemail, hoping for but not getting a call back. 

And, to top it all off, your clinicals were being held at Hawkins General. Their short staff made the need for help greater than any of the other hospitals around right now, so a lot of the workers there were working past their limits. You’d only just started this week and already felt like you were busting your ass.

The experience you had taking care of Eddie was definitely a help when it came to being more of a help than a hindrance. The patients seemed to really like you, too, which made you feel a little better. Still, you couldn’t help but wish that you were going straight to the Munson’s instead of having to drive all the way home to an empty house after a long day.

Tonya was correct in her suspicions when it came to Charles proposing, so she’d been spending more time with him at his house than at your shared home. It made sense, and you were happy for her. But you still missed having her around to cry on, especially when you were feeling this down.

As you drifted off to sleep, you decided that you were tired of feeling like this. You were going to go to the Munson’s home tomorrow after your clinicals. Even if they turned you away, you wanted to at least apologize for making Eddie feel uncomfortable. You wouldn't be able to go on if you didn’t.

‘If you’re lost, you can look, and you will find mee~” 

You belt Cyndi Lauper as you turn into the entrance of the Munson driveway. You were a little suspicious at the amount of tire tracks that seemed to be going up and down the snowy driveway. Maybe the boys had been coming over to see Eddie?

A sports car you’d not seen before sat in the driveway, taking the spot next to where Wayne normally parks his truck. But it was gone. Wayne wasn’t home, but someone else was here? 

You pulled into Wayne’s spot and threw your car in park. You were getting angrier with each new question you had bubbling up in your head. You walked around to the unfamiliar car, trying to see inside, but it was too dark and the windows were too tinted to see in.

The sound of the front door opening drew your attention, and you almost started yelling then and there when none other than Reefer Rick himself, illuminated by the porch light, stepped off the porch and peered around to see who was there.

“Well hello, nurse,” he called out, putting a cigarette to his lips and lighting it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You round the cars, stomping up to him, the sound of snow crunching under your white sneakers.

“Woah, woah, calm down,” he throws his hands up, the smoke billowing from his lips above your head. “I’m just here to hang out with Eddie while Wayne’s workin’--”

“Wayne’s at work?” You can feel tears starting to form. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. “Why--,” you sniffle, “Why didn’t he ask me to come out and stay with Eddie?”

“Um, that is because…-Oh! It was, like super, short notice.” He says, nodding unconvincingly. “Yeah, they just really needed him and, uh, he just didn’t think you’d be able to make it out tonight, ya know?”

“Bullshit.”

He looks at you wide eyed, “Wh-what?”

“That’s bullshit, Rick.” You stand your ground, giving him a look that could kill. But he only grew agitated, nostrils flaring as he towered over you.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re thinking you’re going to get for coming out here, but they don’t need you anymore.”

The words hit you like an arrow to the chest. All of your suspicions were right, but you…you just couldn’t accept it from him.

“I want to hear that from Eddie.”

“Tough luck,” Rick says, taking another drag. 

“I don’t need your permission to talk to him.”

“You do when he said he specifically doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”

The tears fall, but you remain resolute regardless.

“I’m going to talk to him--hey!” You went to walk around him, but he stepped in front of you to prevent you from going any further. You tried it again, and he only moved once more.

“Damn it, just move!”

“I’m not moving,” he says sternly.

“What is this really about, Rick?” He reels back with disbelief. 

“What are you talking about?” He says, sounding exacerbated. “I’m trying to keep my friend safe and you wont take a hint? Is that what you want me to say?”

“Keep him safe? Safe from what?” You match his confused energy.

“From you!”

“ME?!” You’re pushed over your limit at this point. “Don’t even fucking try it, Rick. I’ll call you out for filth.”

“Do it then! I’d love to hear what you could possibly have to say about me!”

“Okay! How about the fact that Eddie used to be your biggest dealer? And that I know you’ve been trying to get him to deal for you again?”

“Wh-what? Are you actually insane?!”

“I’m not the insane one here! The man is in a fucking wheelchair! I know you bring your drugs over here, I’ve seen them in his sock drawer.”

“Yeah, because he smokes it himself! How the fuck do you think he’s been getting by without his pain meds, dumbass!”

Ricks words took you back. You knew Eddie wasn’t taking his pain medication anymore, but you thought he was doing okay without it. You didn’t realize it was because he was using weed to feel better.

“I’ve also not been selling it to him. I’ve just been giving him what I can so that the guy above me doesn’t notice. I actually never needed Eddie to sell for me, I’ve just been trying to help the guy out!”

“Oh, don’t try and get all high and mighty. Eddie may not realize it but I know that you have money. Probably from your mommy and daddy.”

Rick is quiet for a moment, the tips of his ears red under the porch light. You knew you’d got him with how long it took for him to respond.

“Listen,” he finally says, his tone much more serious. “Maybe I do have access to money in one way or another, but I’m not going to flaunt it in front of my friend when I know him and Wayne have struggled to keep the lights on. Eddie’s been like a brother to me since he started pestering me as a freshman, and I’ve done what I can to help them out. Things that only stay between Wayne and I, that Eddie doesn’t even know about, if you catch my drift.”

Your eyes go wide and you nod. The feelings you’ve had towards Rick up to this point should make you not believe him, but something about his shift in demeanor has you wanting to be convinced that he’s telling the truth.

“So if you’re understanding where I’m coming from, I think that you should know what I’m going to ask you to do.”

Your head cocks to the side in genuine confusion.

“No, in fact I don’t know. Please tell me.”

Rick rolls his eyes, taking a step closer so that he can speak to you more hushed.

“C’mon, don’t make me do this. Be the better person and just go.”

“Rick, I honest to god don’t have a clue what the fuck you’re talking about. Speak to me in something other than vague threats please.”

He scoffs, leaning down to be at your level. 

“If I give you a check to leave here and never come back, will that satiate your needs?”

You blink hard, trying your best to comprehend whatever bullshit Rick is going on about.

“Rick,” you say with a sharp exhale, “I don’t know why you think I would ever want any of your money or why you think you could pay me enough to stay away from Eddie. But, I’m going to say this only once. I am not interested.”

Rick straightens up, head rolling back in frustration.

“I can’t believe you. Do you, like, get off on taking things from people who are suffering or something?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not taking anything from anyone!”

“Oh, so you’re meaning to tell me that you’ve just been taking care of Eddie for free this whole time? That Wayne hasn’t been working to keep you around? And now that Eddie doesn’t need you, you’ve come here to try and convince him that he’s still sick so that you can keep getting a check.”

You feel like you’re going insane listening to Rick spout off the made up bullshit that he was spewing at you.

“No! Rick, have you ever even talked to Eddie?! I’ve not taken a single dime from the Munson’s in the last five months that I’ve known them! I was taking care of Eddie through a volunteer program through my school! And when that ended, I agreed to keep taking care of Eddie until he really didn’t need me anymore!”

Rick shakes his head, reeling as he pieces through everything you’ve just told him. It’s quiet for a moment between you two.

“So you’ve really not taken any money from Wayne?”

“No, I have not. Unless you count the times he’s made me food, or bought us all take out. But I don’t ask him to, he always insists.”

His head drops, foot kicking from underneath him.

“Look, I think that we’ve both been…under the wrong impression about each other. I don’t want anything to happen to the Munson’s and I think you don’t want anything to happen to them either.”

“So…we’re on the same page then?” You nod, and Rick laughs. “Well, I’ll be the first to say sorry then. I really thought you were trying to get the little money that they have.”

“And I thought you were trying to get Eddie back into dealing. I’m sorry for thinking that of you.”

“I guess…we’re cool then?”

“I guess so.”

“Cool, well, listen, I know you probably came here to see Eddie. But, I don’t think he would want you to be here right now.”

You frown, unhappy to hear that Rick is still trying to get rid of you.

“I’m sure that he doesn’t, but I really need to talk to him. I just want to clear the air with him and then if he wants nothing to do with me after that…”

“Mmmm, I don’t know what air needs clearing, but Eddie’s being going through some stuff of his own right now. I don’t think its about not wanting to see you…more like he doesn’t want to get you into what he’s got going on.”

You were growing more frustrated with how vague Rick was being. So, instead of wasting more time, you decide to rush past him, heading straight for the front door. But, he didn’t try to stop you. Instead he stood in place, taking a drag of his cigarette as he watches you walk through the front door.

Once inside, you’re greeted by the low hum of music playing from the radio in Eddie’s room, as well as the low murmur of conversation between Eddie and what sounded like Dustin.

Walking down the hall, you stand by the door and peer into the room. Eddie is sitting on the edge of his bed and Dustin is sitting in his chair. They look like they’re looking over a map of some sort and you wonder if it’s one they made for their D and D campaign. 

Your eyes scan over Eddie as he talks. Ever so animated as he points things out, while Dustin, just as animated, retorts something back. He looked a little rougher since the last time you saw him. His hair needed some TLC and the dark circles under his eyes made you wonder if he was getting enough sleep. It pained you to think he was having night terrors without you around to comfort him.

After a moment you decide to knock on the door, causing both boys heads to whip around to face you. Dustin smiles upon seeing you, a kneejerk reaction that he has anytime he’s not seen you for a while. Eddie’s reaction isn’t as sweet, his eyes practically bugging out of his head when he realizes that it’s you in his doorway.

“What are you doing here?” He asks coldly. He didn’t seem at all happy to see you and it hurt.

“I’m here to see you, Eddie.” You take a step inside his room, but Eddie reaches a hand out to stop you.

“You need to leave. Now.” He says in a tone that he’s never spoken with you before. You feel tears starting to well up in your eyes, but you do your best to hold them back.

“No,” you say firmly, “Eddie, we need to talk.”

“I know,” he says with a sigh, hand running through his tangled hair. “I know, but…I promise you that we’ll talk, it just can’t be today.”

“Why not?” You feel that you’re borderline petulant sounding, but you don’t know if you can wait any longer now that he’s here in front of you.

“Tonight…just isn’t a good night.”

The sound of the phone ringing catches you off guard. Dustin jumps up from Eddie’s chair and bolts past you to the kitchen. His weird behavior and Eddie’s resistance have you feeling on edge.

“Is everything okay?” You ask concerned.

“Honestly, not really,” Eddie says exasperated. “That’s why I need you to go. I really can’t risk you being here with what’s going on.”

“Eddie, it sounds like you’ve gotten yourself into something dangerous. Does Rick have something to do with--”

“No, it’s nothing to do with Rick. Well, he’s involved now, but he didn’t have to be. But, you’re right, it is dangerous. That’s why you need to go home. I promise you that if everything goes how it’s supposed to, I will call you tomorrow and we can talk about whatever it is that you want to talk about.”

“Whatever it is that I want to talk about? Eddie, what I want to talk about has been eating me alive for the last month. I’ve been worried sick about you, you know.”

“And I’m so sorry, but I really need one more night to get what is going on taken care of and then I’ll--”

“EDDIE! SHE’S UP! THEY SAID SHE’S UP!”

Eddie moves himself into his chair so quickly that you almost miss it. He starts to roll toward you and you side step out of the way to let him pass. Dustin is standing in the living room and Rick was standing at the entry way chewing on his thumb nail.

“I gotta get over there, like, now,” Dustin says in frustration.

“Absolutely not,” Eddie says, pointing at Dustin.

“I’ll take you,” Rick says, pulling his keys from his pocket.

“Rick, no--”

“Eddie, they need me! Just wait here and keep playing your music! I’ll be fine!”

“Dustin, you know what almost happened to me! There’s no way I’m letting you go and get yourself killed!”

“I’m not going to be killed! We know what we need to do to stop him, and they’re going to need me there to make sure that everything goes smoothly. They’re fighting a boss without any support!

“Then I’m going, too!”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Rick says, waving his hands. “I can’t fit your wheelchair in my trunk anyway. 

“Fucking damn it,” Eddie curses, hands banging against the armrests of his wheelchair. 

“She’s already here, you might as well tell her what’s been going on now,” Dustin says motioning towards you.

“That would really be appreciated!” You say with exhaustion, more confused now than ever.

“Alright, kid, get your shit and let’s go,” Rick says opening the front door. Dustin rushes into the kitchen and grabs a duffel bag with a baseball bat handle sticking out of the zipper.

Just as Dustin is about to run out the door, he stops. Turning to face you, he pauses for a moment.

“Whatever you do, don’t answer the door.”

And with that, he leaves. Only you and Eddie remain.

It’s quiet after you hear Rick take off in his car besides the sound of music still coming from Eddie’s room. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Eddie finally takes a deep breath, letting it out before finally speaking.

“Do you still have cassettes in your car?”

The question throws you for a moment, but you nod in response.

“Yeah, I have a few. Why?”

“Go get your favorite one and bring it back in here.”

You didn’t understand why he would ask you to do this, but his serious tone made you take the few steps towards the door. The frigid air hits you once again as you run out to your car. Rummaging through the cassettes you have, you pull out Rumors and run back into the house. 

“What is all of this about, Eddie?” You ask. You walk up to him and the takes the cassette from your hand, smirking when he sees what it is.

“You and Wayne and your tastes in music.” 

It made you happy to see him smile. It’s felt like eons since you’ve last seen it. 

Eddie wordlessly rolls down the hall and you follow behind him. You watch as he pops out the cassette and places it in the case. It’s the one you got him for Christmas. He then replaces it in the player with your Rumors cassette and presses play. Once Second Hand News begins to play, he finally looks at you directly. Your name leaves his lips with a slight shakiness.

“There’s something going on that I really didn’t want you to be involved with. Something that…frankly, I don’t know if you’re even going to believe me when I tell you.”

“Try me,” you say, sitting down on his bed, giving him your full attention.

“Okay, so,” he starts, his hands already fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. “You know how I’ve been telling you bits and pieces about what happened to me last year?” You nod. “Well, I’ve sort of been…well, not really lying. But maybe only telling you half truths.”

Eddie then proceeds to tell you what actually happened to him last year. He tells you about an alternate dimension that exists under ours, that is an almost identical copy of what our world looks like. 

“Well, I’ve really only seen Hawkins, so I can’t say it’s the same everywhere. But, it’s a carbon copy of this town frozen in time.”

“Frozen in time?” You ask.

“Yeah, it’s stuck on the day that Will went missing a few years ago.”

“Will went missing?”

“Back in ‘83. It was this big thing where he went missing, then they found his body, but it wasn’t actually his body. Then he came back and people started calling him Zombie Boy.”

“Okay,” is all you can say as you try and wrap your head around that logic.

“When Will was missing, he was actually in the Upside Down. They were able to get him back, thanks to El.”

“El? Like Jane?” You’d heard the guys call her El before. Eddie nods.

“She has these, like, super powers. Kinda like The Force in Star Wars.”

“So she can lift people with her mind?”

“People, objects, and I guess she has a mind power where she can track people down. I think she used it to help them find Will.”

“How is that even possible?” You feel like Eddie’s barely scratched the surface and you already can barely grasp what he’s told you.

“The government and some experiments that happened a few years ago. They had a lab here in town that was destroyed in the earthquake. Which wasn’t a normal quake, by the way. It was caused by Vecna.”

“Who-na?”

Eddie continues telling you about the events leading up to what happened to him. He fills you in on a monster called the Mind Flayer, about how El lost her powers, then got them back. About how Will is somehow connected to this Upside Down place because of his time there, and how he can sense the presence of it.

“Then…” Eddie stops talking for a moment, looking a bit distraught as he collects his thoughts. “Then…um, one night, last year, there was this girl I went to school with. Her name was Chrissy.”

“Was?” You question. Eddie nods solemnly.

“She, um, asked me to sell her some drugs. I didn’t have on me what she wanted, so I brought her…brought her back to the trailer. It was just me and her, Wayne had already gone to work. I was looking for the drugs she wanted aaaand, uuuh, while I was gone…”

You can see Eddie becoming more uncomfortable as he talks. It breaks your heart to see him like this.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Eddie,” you tell him, hoping that maybe if he skips whatever happened that it would make him less uneasy.

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head, “I-I haven’t really, um, really gotten to talk about it since it happened. I feel like if I do then…” Eddie takes a moment to compost himself, eyes full of tears when he tilts his head up.

“She, um, she was acting weird. Just, standing there, not responding to me. Then, boom.” Eddie lifts his hand up, mimicking it hitting against something above it. “She’s suddenly on the ceiling. As if something was pulling her up by strings. Then her arms and legs…they snapped in ways that aren’t natural. The sounds,” Eddie puts his hands over his ears and leans forwards, eyes wide on the floor. “Then her eyes just popped into her skull. And her jaw…”

“Eddie, it’s okay,” you say rubbing his back as he starts to sob. You pull him closer to you until his head is resting in your lap. You can feel his tears soaking your thighs, but you only continue to rub soothing circles into his back. 

“You don’t have to tell me anymore, Eddie. I don’t think you’re ready to relive this.”

His head shoots up from your lap, his face wet with tears, eyes rimmed red. He sniffles as he takes his shirt and wipes his face with it.

“It’s fine, I got this,” he says with a rasp. “That was the worst of it. Um, after that, I just totally freaked out and ran. I wasn’t even thinking straight until I pulled up to Rick’s place. That’s when I realized what happened and…what was going to happen to me. I already didn’t have a good reputation in this town, and I knew if I called the cops after I left…shit even if I hadn’t left, they would have arrested me on the spot.”

Eddie tells you about what happened over the few days he was at Rick’s. About how Dustin, Max, Robin, and Steve found him there and they all explained to him what he told you. How if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes he wouldn’t have believed them.

He then tells you about the manhunt for him. How a group of boys, one of them being Chrissy’s boyfriend, found him and one of those boys ended up being killed the same way Chrissy had. That made three people total that had been killed by Vecna at that point, and apparently he only needed to kill four.

“Who was his fourth victim?” You ask. Eddie blinks and looks up at you.

“Max was supposed to be.”

Eddie tells you everything. He tells you about Max’s visions and her almost being killed in front of Lucas. How El managed to keep her from dying and that’s how she ended up in the coma she’s in now.

It makes you think about how you’d been taking care of her. Did her mom know this is what happened to her? Or was she just as in the dark about it as you and everyone else was. 

You understood why Lucas felt that he couldn’t leave her side. You would probably do the same if you were in his shoes.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie. That must be an awful thing to live with.” You were referring to survivors guilt. You knew Eddie had to have been feeling it this whole time, but you didn’t know the context that made it’s severity make sense.

“I’m trying to deal with it. Honestly…you’ve made me feel a lot better. When Dustin or the guys try to cheer me up, it feels like they’re pitying me. But you…”

You take one of his hands in yours and smile. He looks at you bashfully before adverting his gaze once again. As you hold his hand, you feel the scars that adorn them.

“Eddie,” you say quietly, “What happened to you?”

Eddie remains still, almost tense. There was a long pause before he finally spoke again.

“You know how it’s hard for me to listen to that one Metallica song?”

“The puppet one?”

He nods.

“Yeah, you said it had bad memories.”

“That night, the same night that that happened to Max, we were in the Upside Down. It was Dustin and I, left in charge of creating a distraction so that Steve and Nancy and Robin could get to the big boss. So, I took my guitar from down there and played that song. 

“I’d been practicing it every day since I got the album, so I knew that I needed to play it and make it count. I felt so bad ass playing it, too. And, the best part is that it worked. We were able to get all those fucking bats to come to us.”

Eddie was looking past you, recalling that night in his head.

“They swarmed us. Dustin and I were able to get back into the trailer where we thought we were safe. But, those fucks were still able to get in. We took them down, and Dustin wanted to leave…But I was too stubborn.

“Instead of doing the right thing and going with Dustin, I tried to play the hero and wanted to make more of a distraction for the others. So I…ran out there and I tried to fight off hundreds of these bats by myself.”

You gasp, your hand coming to your mouth as you connect the dots.

“Needless to say they made a snack out of me,” Eddie says gesturing to himself. “I was sure I was a gonner, too. I blacked out and everything. Woke up a few days later in a busy hospital where I didn’t receive the best care in the world. But, I was also handcuffed to the bed considering I was still the number one suspect in the murders.”

“Wait, so even though you came in barely alive they still thought you were a murderer?”

“Yep. And, get this, Jason, Chrissy’s boyfriend, he died in the earthquake. His aunt works at the hospital as a nurse. She obviously doesn’t like me, and I don’t blame her. She tried to kill me.”

“What?! How?”

“Apparently she was going to give me like a lethal amount of some kind of narcotic in my IV. But Wayne caught her at the last minute when he came to visit me.”

“And that’s why you were so weary of me.”

Eddie nods, giving you a coy smile. “Sorry about that…”

“Eddie you don’t need to be sorry about any of that. If I had known, I would have done things totally differently--”

“But I’m glad you didn’t. Instead of treating me like a charity case, you treated me like human being despite my shitty attitude. Who knows if we would have gotten to this point if you had known.”

This point. That could mean a myriad of things, but you try not to think about why you came here and instead focus back to the present. 

“Wow. That is…a lot.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, “I know that most of it sounds like some kind of fantasy, and I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me.”

“Why would you lie to me?”

Eddie looks at you with surprise.

“You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Eddie, obviously you’re quite upset about all of this. I don’t think you’re that good of an actor to fake it.”

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he says with a sigh of relief. “I thought you would have told me to shut up before I could get everything out.”

“You really think that way about me?”

“No, god no,” he says waving his hands, taking yours back in his grip once he’s done, “I just wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

“So, I’m guessing that the radio silence from you the last few weeks is because something is happening again?”

“Yes. Do you remember when we were at Grant’s place on New Years?”

Your cheeks go hot and you nod.

“Well, when Hopper called, he told me that something happened to Max that night. Apparently she levitated off of the bed and told Lucas that Vecna would be coming soon.”

You reel back, taken aback at the visual you had in your head of that happening. “No one at the hospital said anything about that.”

“That's because only Lucas and Max’s mom saw it happen. Nearly gave the poor woman a heart attack.”

“I bet it did,” you say thinking about Max’s poor, tired mom.

“Ever since we’ve all been on high alert in case something else happens. But nothing with Max has happened.”

“Has anything happened to you?”

There’s a quiet moment again. Eddie’s thumb rubs circles into the back of your hand as he takes his time to respond.

“I’ve been…having those dreams. But they’ve been more vivid than before. He…he talks to me.”

“Who talks to you?”

“Vecna.”

“The bad guy from the Upside Down has been talking to you?”

Eddie nods. “He told me that I was lucky to get out alive, that he was going to make sure that didn’t happen again.”

A wave of nausea washed over you. Eddie was in real, genuine danger and there’s a possibility that you might not have ever seen him again if you hadn’t come out tonight. How could you even live with yourself if that had been the case?

“Well,” you say after a moment, “That’s not going to happen. Not while I’m around.”

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. “I just told you I have a target on my back and your first thought isn’t to run?”

“Hell no! I’m not leaving your side ever again at this point.”

Eddie brings a hand to his face, head tilting back. He plays it off as frustration but he’s trying to hide how red his cheeks are from your words. But when he says your name in a whiny tone to punctuate his actual frustration, you suspect he’s going to protest you staying.

“Please don’t make me leave,” you say before he can get another word out. He peeks at you through his fingers, a sad puppy like look on your face as you plead with him. “If I have to be honest with you to get you to let me stay I will be.”

“What do you mean by that?” He says, running his hand down his face so he can look at you properly.

You take a deep breath in and release it.

“Eddie, what I’ve been wanting to talk about…I just, I can’t keep my mind off of you. And, not just in the way I’ve been worried about you…” You bite your lip. “Ever since New Years…when we..you know.”

“When we…”

“Kissed.” 

Eddie really blushes now, and you become acutely aware of how your hand is still holding his.

“Ye-yeah, I’ve been…wanting to talk with you about that, too.”

“I want to apologize.”

Sitting up straight, he looks at you like you have two heads. “What do you need to apologize for?”

“That kiss, it was inappropriate. At first it felt like it was just an accident, but the more I’ve been able to think about it the last few weeks…The more I realized that I didn’t want it to be one. And that made me think that you must have felt that way, too. Which was why I thought you stopped having me come over.”

“No, nope, not at all,” Eddie says, waving his hand dismissively. “Honestly, I’ve barely been able to think about that. Not because I don’t want to, but, well, you know, with everything going on.”

“Well, that makes me feel better, kinda. Obviously I’d rather you be mad at me than in danger from a supernatural being, but I’m glad you’re not upset with me at all.”

“I don’t think I could ever be mad at you.” The gooey tone he says those words make you feel like melting into a little puddle on the floor. “I also wouldn’t take back what happened. Because I don’t regret it. Unless you didn’t want it to happen. Then I’ll do my best to forget.”

“You really don’t regret it?”

Eddie shakes his head. “If nothing else, I think that if I died right now that I’d be happy to have had at least that with you.”

You feel your heart beating in your chest. Eddie and you look at each other, the tension thick as both of your true feelings start to surface for the first time like this. You swallow thickly, and Eddie’s eyes shift down. They land on your lips, then back to your eyes. 

The string snaps, and you both lean into each other, lips colliding together is a passionate kiss. His hands hold your face in place, yours go straight for his hair, letting your fingers get caught up in his tangled mane. Your lips move in sync as you take each others breath away. 

The fireworks from New Years make an appearance in your minds eye once more. But this time, they’re raging more than ever, amplified by the warmth that floods your body as you have this moment with Eddie. All the worries you had fly out the window as he hold you, kissing you with just as much feverence as you have for him.

The moment you pull away from each other feels like being ripped away from a fire in the dead of winter. But Eddie’s face remains close to yours looking at you wildly, a huge grin on display.

“Wow,” he says with a breathy chuckle. 

“Yeah,” you say, eyes still closed as you feel a heat starting to burn within you. They remain lidded even with you open them, taking in Eddie’s features up close as he looks at you with a childish wonder.

You can’t help but lean into him again. Letting your lips barely touch as you peck him once, twice. The third time lingers, and you feel the heat of his breath blowing from his nose against your cheeks. You open him up with your mouth, letting yourself into his as your tongue slips inside. There’s some hesitance on his part, but he does his best to match your pace, tongues doing a sloppy dance between you. 

As the kiss intensifies, you place your hands on Eddie’s shoulders, pushing him back gently until you’re barely on the bed anymore. You close it with another peck or two, his eyes closed as he chases you. You slide down until your knees hit the push of his carpet and that’s when Eddie opens his eyes. He watches your every move as you place a delicate hand on either knee, pushing his thighs apart until you’re properly wedged between them.

“Wh-what are you…?” Eddie trails of, still wanting to make sure you’re doing what he thinks you’re doing. Your hands move slowly as they run up his thighs until they reach his hips, then you move them back down at the same pace.

“What do you want me to do, Eddie?” You ask, voice smooth as silk as you look up at him. 

“Holy fuck,” Eddie huffs, voice shaky. You lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him, and Eddie swears you have a sparkle in your eyes.

“I can do whatever you want me to, you know,” you say with a smile. “If there’s a possibility you might die, might as well make it a night to remember.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, and it makes you a little nervous. But he couldn’t help it. He was going through every scenario that he’d ever jerked off to with you in it. He was getting so hard that he didn’t know how he was going to be able to keep his cool.

But his silence worried you. Did you come off too strong? 

“Eddie? Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie suddenly snaps back into it, shaking his head wildly. 

“No, please don’t!” He absentmindedly grabs your hand and places it on his hard cock. You gasp, feeling him through his sleep pants. 

“This is what you do to me, you know. And not just now. There’s been so many times where I’ve imagined this happening. But, I gotta say, nothing I’ve imagined has come close to the real thing.”

You eat up his words and they go straight to your core.

“You’ve thought about me?” You ask genuinely.

“I can’t think of anything else but you,” he says lowly. Too bashfully for the mood you’re trying to set. You want him to know he can be open with you, that he doesn’t have to think he isn’t worthy of you.

You adjust your hand so that you’re holding onto his cock and start rubbing him through his pants. Eddie makes little noises in response to your touch that tell you he’s liking it. 

“Can I--” You start, but Eddie cuts you off.

“You can do whatever you want,” He says breathily.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t like though,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes.

“As long as it’s you I’ll like it.”

With that, you let your fingers curl around the hem of his sweats and tug. Eddie lifts himself up a bit so give some slack and you take advantage of it. You pull his sweats down enough that his cock springs free, smacking against his stomach.

You’ve seen his cock briefly before, but to see it now in all it’s glory was a lot. It was as big as you expected it to be, and thick, too. You reached out your hand, wrapping it around him and begin stroking him. His cock jumps in your touch.

Eddies hands are gripping his wheelchair. He can’t believe this is happening to him. He’s never had anyone touch him like this before and the fact that you’re the first to do this was driving him crazy. Every move felt better than he could have even imagined. 

He watched in awe as you adjusted yourself, your lips hovering over him as you fucking spit on his cock and rub it in. He feels like he could bust right there, but he does his best to keep calm. The last thing he wants is to embarrass himself by cumming too fast.

But you’re testing his resilience when you take him into your mouth.

“Oh, holy fuck,” he moans as you get as much of him in as you can. With your hand on the base you start bobbing up and down on him, doing your best to open up for him as you take him to the back of your throat over and over. 

Eddie’s hands fly to your head. You hesitate for a moment, but when you see up to see the way he’s looking at you, you keep going. Pulling yourself from him, you take your tongue and lick him from base to top, swirling it around his head before going back in for the kill. You open up your throat and take him until your can feel your nose rubbing against hair.

“Haaaaa, oh my god,” he chokes out, his grip on your head getting tighter out of reflex. You hold it for as long as you can, trying your best to hold your breath until you just can’t anymore. You pull off of him again, looking up at him to get his reaction. 

“Was that good?” You ask as you stroke him.

“Is the sky blue?” He can’t even believe you’re asking. You smile and lean down to wrap your lips around his tip. You work around it with your tongue as you keep pumping. Eddie grabs the arms of his chair again and his hips buck, putting him further into your mouth. You cough a bit, unprepared for that much of him all at once.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, his hands framing your face. “Are you okay?”

You smile and nod, “Yeah, it’s okay. You’re just so big, Eddie. I can’t take you like that if I’m not ready.”

Eddie’s face is like a tomato from your words. You calling saying he’s big does a little something to his ego that he’s going to keep in his mind for the rest of his life. He leans down and kisses you, taking the lead with his new found confidence. You can feel him guiding you up from the floor with his hands, and you stand until you’re the one leaning down to him.

Eddie suddenly pulls away, locking the brakes of his chair. He places a hand on either arm and pushes himself up so that he’s towering over you, your bodies brushing against each other as he teeters on his leg. Out of instinct you grab him by his waist to hold him up. 

But Eddie has other plans. He maneuvers his body, shifting his weight so that he’s pushing against you. This causes you to fall back until you land on the bed, bringing Eddie down with you. Before he can crush you under him, Eddie braces his hands on either side of you, propping himself up so that he’s hovering over you, his knee on the bed between your legs.

Now you’re the one blushing, taken aback by such a smooth move by him. He’s so close to you, his hair curtaining around you so that all you can focus on is his face. Which is looking at you like he also can’t believe that he just pulled that off. 

“Hi,” you say when he doesn’t say anything.

“Hi, sweetheart” he says with a classic Eddie chuckle.

You reach up to kiss him again and he melts into it, allowing some of his body to relax into you. It doesn’t take long for things to heat up again, but Eddie doesn’t seem like he’s able to make another move while holding himself up. So you take the opportunity to reach between you and grab him again.

Eddie breaks away and curses, looking at you with a lust filled gaze. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks, taking you by surprise.

“Of course,” you say, tickled at the prospect. 

Eddie shifts onto his side, and the two of you adjust until you’re laying next to each other. He looks at you up and down and raises his hand. But he freezes before he does anything.

“Wh-where should I touch?” He asks you. You think he’s joking at first but you realize very quickly that he’s not.

“Eddie…have you ever done this before?”

His hand drops, eyes looking away from you in embarrassment. 

“Oh, Eddie,” you coo, brushing his hair out of his face. “It’s okay if you haven’t. I just didn’t know.” He looks at you out of the corner of his eye and smiles. It’s still embarrassing, but he should have known you wouldn’t judge him. “Do you want me to show you?”

Eddie’s ears perk up.

“Please?”

You take his hand and guide him to the bottom of your shirt. Gently, you move his hand until it’s under the fabric. The tips of his fingers skim your skin as you raise his hand higher, higher, until it’s touching the cup of your bra. You leave it there and move your shirt up the rest of the way so that your chest is on display.

His eyes are bugging out of his head. Eddie’s seen boobs before. He’d say he’s a pretty big fan of them. But he’s never seen them this up close and personal before. He snaps back to reality when he hears you giggling.

As Eddie ogles your chest, you arch your back and reach around to unclasp your bra. If he’s this amazed covered up, you can only imagine how he’s going to react once he sees the whole picture. Once it’s loose, you pick up Eddie’s hand and remove it, tossing it to the other side of the bed. 

“Woah,” he says in awe, eyes blinking rapidly. Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling at him.

Bringing his hand back down, you place it on your breast, giving him a small squeeze to let him know he can do as he wants. Eddie gets the hint and immediately begins playing with you in his hand. He needs at you, feeling you in palms and with his fingers. He lets yous nipple get caught between two of them and gives a gentle pinch that has you gasping.

“Did that feel good?” He questions, and you nod in response. He likes this answer and tries to do it more, experimenting a bit with pressures and feeling them more. Most of it felt good. Honestly you were more turned on by his fascination than anything. Most guys barely pay attention to your body during sex, but Eddie’s inexperience seemed to be benefiting you.

It’s when Eddie takes it to the next step that you start to feel genuinely turned on. 

He moves, letting himself get closer to you until his face is right at your breast. He looks up at you with those big brown eyes, pupils blown out so that they’re almost block, and takes your nipple into his mouth. You can feel the sensation all the way down to your toes as he sucks and licks you. Eddie’s shifts himself so that he can fondle your other breast while he continues working on you.

It becomes too much and not enough all at once and you desperately just want Eddie to touch you in other places. So you take his hand once again, gentle around his scars, and bring it down to the waistband of your jeans. Eddie looks at you, tit still in his mouth, waiting to see what you do next. So you unbutton your pants and wiggle them down as best as you can. Eddie’s head whips around to watch, suddenly very interested in what you’ve got going on.

When you’ve gotten them off, your panties on full display for him, Eddie feels like he’s won the lottery. The reality of everything suddenly sets in that this is actually happening and he’s pretty sure he’s never been so hard in his life. He lets you move his hand down, over the fabric until his hand is where your legs meet. They feel damp to the touch, and Eddie can barely compute that you’re wet. Because of him.

“Do you want me to show you?”

Eddie smacks his lips, still staring at where his hand is touching you. He’s watched porn before, so he thinks he can figure it out. His hand moves from yours and he runs two fingers down your clothed slit, getting a feel of you before he does anything else. 

He’s trying to keep himself aware of any movements you make as he continues to feel you. He knows there’s a sweet spot hiding somewhere, he just needs to find it. After a minute he gets frustrated decides to take the plunge. He pulls your panties to the side and repeats what he was doing before.

The sudden gasp you make when he brushes over a certain spot has him celebrating internally. He focuses on what he’s pretty sure is your clit, making small circles with the pads of his fingers. The reaction you give him has him elated, your smalls huffs and moans making him feel like the king of the world. And he did it all by himself!

You were shocked that Eddie was able to make you feel so good so quickly. It was hard to believe he’s never done it before, but you couldn’t think about that as he tended to you. Eddie was so zoned in to what he was doing, and you found it so endearing, but you wanted more. 

Bringing yourself forward, you took his face in your hand and turned it, planting a kiss on his lips. He only faltered for a moment, taken by surprise by you, but quickly returned to your needs. 

“Eddie,” you breathed against his lips, “feels so good. Need more.”

Oh shit, is this it?

Eddie thought quickly about how he was going to do this. He didn’t know if he would be able to hold himself up on his bad leg. But he would try for you if it’s what he needed to do. He pulled his hand from between your legs and shifted up until he was on one knee, only using his thigh to keep himself balanced. 

When his shirt was pulled from over his head, and you couldn’t help but stare. Eddie had started doing some exercises recently to rebuild his strength, push ups, lifting small weights, and it was starting to pay off. And the little trail of hair from his cock to his belly button had you drooling. 

Eddie caught you staring and smiled down at you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Maybe next time,” you tease back, and Eddie almost jumps with joy. You hadn’t even done the deed yet and you were already talking about a next time? Maybe Vecna had gotten him in his sleep and this is what his heaven is. He wouldn’t complain if it was.

Eddie does some moving, and you help by opening your legs up for him. He looks at your exposed pussy and just about passes out from the sight. No porn star could compare to the sight of you laying before him, in full view for him to take in.

“Take a picture,” you say, laughing at the trance he seems to be in.

“Sorry,” he blushes. He grabs the sides of your panties and pulls them down until they’re just another piece of clothing on his floor. 

He takes a note from a porno he’s watched and runs his fingers through your folds, collecting your wetness before bringing his hand to his cock and pumping it. The sight of it has you feeling hotter than before, a lump forming in your stomach from the little bit he’s touched you already.

Eddie looks like he’s about to take the dive when you stop him.

“Eddie, do you have any condoms?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, a wave of devastation washing over him.

“I did…but they got destroyed when the trailer did,” he said, as if he didn’t know those condoms wouldn’t have done any good even if he did have them.

“Oh, um, that’s okay,” you say. “Just make sure you pull out. Okay?”

Eddie salutes you, “Scouts honor.”

“Didn’t take you for a scout,” you say jokingly. Eddie simply shrugs and strokes himself a few more times.

Eddie does his best to situate himself, leaning over you with one hand and one leg, using his thigh for support. Before you know it he’s lining himself up at your entrance. The anticipation is palpable as the head of his cock just a thrust away from being inside of you.

Taking a breath, Eddie looks at you.

“You sure you want to do this?” 

You can’t help but laugh at the position you’re in for him to ask you that.

“Yes, Eddie, I promise.”

He chuckles, “Okay, well, here goes nothing. Let me know if I do something wrong.”

“Just don’t go in all at once,” you tell him. “Go slow, please.” Eddie aches at how sweet you sound pleading with him.

He takes another breath and goes for it. He pushes himself past the threshold until the tip was all the way in before pulling back out again. He does this a few times, inching in a little more with each thrust until he’s halfway in and already feeling like he’s going to cum.

The stretch is delicious. You didn’t mean for him to go this slow, but you don’t want to discourage him so you let him go at his own pace.

By the time Eddie is almost all the way in his fists are already gripping his bedsheets. It’s indescribable how amazing you feel around him, and it feels like a tidal wave of emotions is on the horizon. But Eddie is determined not to make things weird by crying right now, so instead he looks at you, trying to gauge how you’re feeling about all of this.

Wrong move.

Because the slack jawed, lidded eyed expression you were giving him only made things worse. And then you go and smile at him! Come on!

“You can go faster now,” you say to him after a few slow thrusts. Eddie nods and starts moving a little more, doing his best to get a good rhythm with only one leg. But you take your leg and position it around his thigh, giving him a little more stability which he greatly appreciates.

At his new pace each thrust felt heaven. The way he hits that spot so effortlessly due to his size has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The room is filled with moans, curses, and Eddie’s name here and there.

He leans in closer to you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s breathing heavy into your ear, little gasps and hisses coming from him as he continues to roll his hips into you.

After a few minutes of bliss, you start to feel a wobbling on either side of you. Eddie’s arms look like they’re about to give out at any second. You thought about it for a moment until an idea popped into your head.

“Eddie,” you huff, getting his attention. He stops, looking at you with a slightly scared expression.

“Y-yeah?”

“Do you trust me?”

He nods, and you take your legs and wrap them around him. With one swift movement, you roll your bodies until you’re sitting on top of him in the bed. The new angle is intense with him sitting so snug inside of you. 

The look on Eddie’s face is pure surprise, eyes wide with shock.

“This okay for you?” You ask, and he nods once more. “Good.”

You lean forward, letting your hand run up his stomach to his chest. Then you start to move, going up and down slowly a few times before giving one thrust that had him cursing under his breath. After getting the reaction you want you start to bounce on him, giving him quite the show as you do. You bring his hands to your chest once more to let him feel you up as you milk him for all he’s worth.

“You feel so good, Eddie,” you say to him. Eddie looks at you like you hung the moon.

“Y-yeah?” He stutters.

“So good,” you reassure him.

“Oh god, don’t talk like that,” he says, covering his face with his hands.

“Why not?” you ask, switching from bouncing to rolling your hips as you lay chest to chest with him.

“Jesus christ. Because if you talk like that then I’m gonna come, and I don’t wanna come yet.”

“You can come, Eddie. I want you to,” you say in a sweet tone.

“But you haven’t yet,” he whines. It touches you that he’s worried about making you cum.

“It’s okay if I don’t. This is for you, not me,” you say, caressing his face. But he shakes his head.

“No, want to make you come, too. Don’t wanna be like those assholes who don’t make girls cum.”

“Awe, Eddie, that fact that you even care means you’re not like that. But…” You take his hand, bringing his thumb to your clit. “If you really want to make me come, do what you were doing before.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, getting started. The combination was delicious as you started to roll your hips again. 

It didn’t take long for you to feel like you were on the edge with Eddie’s help. The knot was forming in your stomach once again and you chased that high by grinding down on him, letting his cock hit you right in that sweet spot over and over.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so close,” you say, moving on instinct with what feels good. 

Eddie felt like he had front row seats to the best show of his life as he watched you start to come undone on top of him. That deep pit feeling that he’s been trying to ignore was becoming too much for him to stave off for much longer. He was doing his best to try and hold it in because he really wanted to watch you cum on his cock. But every movement you made chipped away at him.

“Shit, oh my god,” you say just before you hit your peak. One more good roll of your hips and the knot inside you snaps. The feeling is intense, and you vision goes blurry as you come hard.

Eddie is losing his mind watching you. The way your pussy is spasming around him is too much for him to handle and he’s suddenly cumming as well.

“Oh, fuck!” He shouts, holding onto your hips as he spills inside of you.

It takes a moment for the both of you to come down and realize what happened. You hop off of him quickly, almost falling off the bed with how shaky your legs were. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you say, jogging into the bathroom to take care of the mess Eddie made.

“I’m so sorry,” he calls to you from the bed. “I-I didn’t mean to!”

Eddie was panicking. He knew he fucked up and there was no way you were going to do this with him ever again now. You might never even speak to him again after what he did.

“Eddie, it’s fine,” you say from the bathroom. “I’ll just clean up really quick and we should be okay. I think my period is due soon anyway.”

He wasn’t really sure what that meant, but the fact you weren’t yelling it him was enough to help him calm down at least a little bit. He sat up fully in the bed and looked down at himself. The lower half of his body where you were was soaking wet, evidence of what the two of you had just done. It hits him like a freight train that you had sex with him. And he made you come? He felt like he was on top of the world.

After cleaning yourself up, you sheepishly reentered Eddie’s bedroom. You had just had sex with him, but you were feeling a little bashful about being naked in front of him. But the way he was looking at you made you feel like you could be covered in mud and he’d still be happy to see you.

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“..and she picked out the venue,” you say as you brush out Eddie’s hair. “I think she wants to do like a mint green and a light orange. Maybe some white or silver or something like that, too.”

“I’m assuming you’re going to be the maiden of honor or whatever it’s called?” Eddie asks, looking at you in the bathroom mirror.

“No, her sister is, but I’m going to be a bridesmaid. I hope she has us wear green dresses instead of orange.”

“I think you would look really pretty in orange.”

You blush, sneaking a peak at him in the mirror. He’s had a grin plastered on his face since you two got in the shower. Even now he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful painting in a museum.

“Thanks,” you say softly, finishing the last few knots in his hair. “There, good as new.”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, looking at himself in the mirror, “It fees way better already. I don’t know how I thought I was going to be able to manage this long without you.”

“I guess that means you can’t get rid of me, huh?” You say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Good thing I didn’t plan on it.”

Warmth flooded your whole body at his words. It felt so good to get your feelings off your chest with him. Of course Tonya was right that he liked you. When he told you that he’d been pining for you for a while, you felt like kicking yourself for never seeing the signs.

You bend down to press a kiss to the crown of his head. His smile grew even wider as you did, the apples of his cheek dusted with a hint of pink. He couldn’t believe that this was even happening to him. How did he manage to get the most perfect girl in the world to like him? Certainly wasn’t his looks, nor his personality. Maybe you were just crazy and taking a chance on him. Whatever your reason, he doesn’t plan on doing anything to mess it up.

“Do you think Dustin and the gang are okay?” You ask suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Shit, I almost forgot,” Eddie says, suddenly anxious again. “The phone didn’t ring while we were…you know.”

“Not that I heard. Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily,” he says, turning his chair to look at you, “But I was hoping that one of them would call once things are settled down.”

“Can I ask you something?” You say after a beat.

“Of course.”

“Why did Dustin say not to answer the door?”

“Vecna, he’s…doing this weird thing with them. Apparently Nancy slipped into a trance and went to answer the door to their house and it ended up being a trap. She had some scary visions I guess and now she’s petrified to open a door. Jonathan’s been staying with her so she’s not alone.”

“That’s Mike’s sister, right? Has Mike had any visions?”

“Not Mike, but I guess Lucas has been seeing things, too. So we’re just trying to be cautious.”

“What does Wayne think about all of this?”

Eddie chuckles, shifting in his chair. 

“He’s always been a believer in the supernatural, so it didn’t take much to convince him of whats been going on. It’s the only reason he hasn’t asked you to come out here instead of Rick. Which, he’s not been doing too bad taking care of me, so don’t be too hard on him.”

“I think Rick and I are cool now,” you say with a smile.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Eddie starts, “Because I actually needed to ask you something.”

“What’s up?” You ask curiously.

“So, I was going to ask you to go with me as my plus one, just in case I needed help But now…I guess I want to ask you if you wanted to go with me to Rick’s wedding. Not just as my plus one, but as my…”

“As your what?” You ask with a teasing lit.

“As my date,” he says, eyes cast down so he doesn’t have to watch you if you reject him.

“Awe, are you asking me on a date?” You ask.

“Maybeeee…”

“Eddie, of course I’ll go. I’d have gone no matter what, but I’ll especially go as your date.” You reach your hand out for him to take. He looks at it, then up at you before taking your hand in his. He brings is to his lips and places little kisses on your knuckles.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to say yes because of what we did.”

“Eddie, I told you I like you. I’m sure it must be had to think that considering how down on yourself you are, but I really, really do like you. Want to date you, if you want to.”

“So, if everything goes well tonight…maybe we can, like, go see a movie or something?”

“I would love to. We can go to the one close to my house. Oh, maybe we can even double date with Tonya and Charles. She’s been dying to meet you.”

“She has?” He asks, surprised to hear that anyone wants to meet him.

“Yes. She’s the one whose been trying to tell me that you like me for months now.”

The two of you laugh and carry on, eventually heading out to the living room. The two of you get comfortable on the couch after deciding on a movie to watch and popping it into the VHS player. Everything is going well, the two of you stealing little kisses here and there, until about 20 minutes into the movie.

The both of you jump when you hear it. It feels like your heart is beating a million beats per second. You almost think that you imagined it, until you looked over at Eddie, who seemed just as distressed as you.

And then it happens again. 

Another knock at the door.

thanks for reading!

[irb-pascalito-99]

Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

[solar-wing]

⚣ It's Not A Competition 🥇

⚣👊🏻 A/N → SURPRISE! double post today! I've been wanting to do a Clark Kent post forever but never had any good ideas. Then, this popped into my mind. Also, I'm really trying to clear out my drafts and any old requests. WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence | Jealousy | Established Relationship

⚣👊🏻 Summary → Dark Knight this and Dark Knight that. What about Superman?! He's also a great hero! Better than Batman, at least. The guy doesn't even have powers. But that's what makes him more interesting and cool, according to Y/N. And frankly, Clark has had quite enough and intends to show him why Superman is way better than Batman.

⚣👊🏻 Words → 4.7K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 👊🏻

Clark just didn’t get it.

Why was it that Y/N was so obsessed with Batman and not Superman? All the young reporter ever talked about was the Dark Knight and how he was so cool and mysterious. Going on and on about his awesome gadgets and the fact that he had no powers, which made him so interesting.

Clark very much would beg to differ.

“You know, Superman can shoot lasers out of his eyes, and I heard he can move faster than the speed of sound,” Clark pointed out while walking with Y/N down the sidewalk. They decided to go out for lunch and since the Daily Planet was so close to one of Y/N's favorite restaurants downtown, he figured, why not just walk together?

“Clark, not this again,” Y/N chuckled while sipping his drink.

“I’m sorry, you just always talk about how great Batman is, and I’m not saying he’s bad, but I don’t get how he’s better than Superman?”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like Lois with all your Superman praise and comparison.”

“Well, she’s not wrong. I mean, come on. What can Batman do that Superman can’t?” Clark asked, looking down at his boyfriend while waiting for an answer.

“Batman’s quicker on his feet. He thinks of solutions faster and more creatively than what I’ve seen from Superman. Plus, he’s resourceful. The guy’s got a freaking jet. The only people I could think of that own jets and planes and all the crazy gadgets he has would probably be Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne.”

Clark tried not to react to the irony of that statement, rather focusing on how he could combat that logic even though it was true. He had to admit that his comrade, whether in the field or in practice, was very good at analyzing a situation and using whatever he had around him to his advantage.

Still, it didn’t mean he was better than him.

“Well, Superman can also fly, and as many have witnessed, is crazy strong.”

“Yes, he is. But if Batman can afford a jet, I’m pretty sure he can afford a jetpack, too. Plus, we all know how strong Superman is, some more than others. Their insurance claims can definitely speak to how strong he is.”

That last line Y/N said was more so to himself than as a statement to Clark. However, it didn’t take away the slight sting from his words, considering how true they were.

“So you’re saying Superman is reckless and bad at his job or something?” Clark accused.

“What? No, I’m not saying that at all. Why are you getting so defensive about this? You’re acting as if you know the guy. Wait, do you know him?” Y/N asked, now looking up at his giant of a boyfriend.

Sometimes, he wondered what kind of genes ran in Clark’s family. It was a bit of a puzzle to Y/N why the six-foot-something man was in journalism rather than something that seemed more his speed, like fitness or athletics.

“No, of course not. I just don’t think it’s fair or even logical to compare Superman to someone like Batman, considering what each of them has respectfully achieved, not to mention the state of their cities and everything. I mean, have you ever been to Gotham before?” Clark asked, doing his best to not draw any more curiosity or suspicion out of the younger male.

Not that he was doing a good job of that in the first place.

Clark just wished he could’ve shown Y/N why Superman was better than Batman. They’d only been dating for a few months so it wasn’t reasonable or even smart for the Kryptonian to consider revealing his identity to him, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Clark, it’s not a competition. You know that, right?” Y/N said, placing his hand on Clark’s arm.

They paused in their steps, Clark looking down at the gentle hand lying across his forearm before looking up into the eyes that always put him under a spell. He smiled to himself, thinking of the fact that even if Y/N favored Batman over Superman, Clark was still the real winner, because he had him.

He took his hand in his own, doing his best to contain his excitement pulse at the feeling of his larger hand surrounding the smaller one in his grip. Y/N was still a male, so his hand wasn’t dainty or small by any means, but compared to Clark’s, it might as well have been.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, I got a little bit crazy.” Clark apologized with a small kiss on the shorter man’s hand causing a slight blush to appear on the smaller male’s cheeks.

“It’s ok. Besides, I like a little bit of crazy. Keeps things interesting.” Y/N said before continuing their walk towards Clark’s place of work.

‘You have no idea,’ Clark thought to himself as he followed behind, letting himself be tugged along.

They returned to the Daily Planet to find everywhere in a buzz, chattering excitedly with each other as various individuals were either running to the bathroom with pouches of makeup and skincare and others at their desks touching up their hair and clothes.

“What’s going on?” Clark asked aloud as he strode into the office while still holding Y/N’s hand.

“Was it like this when we left?” His boyfriend asked, chuckling at the comical movements and gestures of the rushing to get re-ready for whatever was happening.

“No, it was actually the opposite,” The reporter stated before eventually spotting Lois at her desk, who was also touching up her makeup and hair. He made his way over to the desk area, narrowly avoiding multiple people rushing while pulling Y/N closer to him to keep him from getting bumped into.

“Lois, what’s going on?”

“Oh, hey, Smallville. Hello, Y/N. Didn’t you both get the emergency email Perry sent to everyone earlier?” She said in her usual fast-paced, business tone while curling her eyelashes.

“No, We were at lunch. What was the email about?”

“Oh, Clark. Must I always have to save your butt?” Lois said before handing her phone over to the man, Y/N chuckling behind him at the comment.

Clark threw him a look while Y/N did his best to keep a neutral face before reading over the email.

“Bruce Wayne is coming to the Daily Planet?”

Y/N's eyes went comically large at the mention, immediately jumping to read the email for himself, “No way!”

Lois smirked to herself before grabbing her phone back from the man, while Clark just stared at his boyfriend in jealous shock from his excited outburst. “Yep. Wayne Enterprises has announced its support of various major liberal movements and is donating large proceeds to different organizations calling for massive change in the nation. And with this being an election year, many political figures and business entities are feeling a little uneasy at this sudden new support from the tech giant. And yours truly, landed the exclusive interview with him to get all the nitty and gritty details .”

Y/N’s eyes were almost bugging out of his head, before he ran to the bathroom himself, snatching his hand from Clark’s who looked desperately after him.

“Dammit, Bruce.” The reporter growled under his breath.

“You say something?” Lois asked while powdering her nose.

“No,” Clark responded gruffly, an irritated glint in his eye before walking to his own desk.

After everyone has ridiculously made themselves extra presentable, including Y/N much to Clark’s annoyance, the pair stand outside the room with a few others, watching through the glass pane walls as the interview is broadcast live to the entire nation. Lois asked Mr. Wayne various questions, ranging from his real intentions behind his charitable donations to whether he was looking to begin any political endeavors and win the favor of the public.

Bruce answers every question with confidence and suaveness, leaving no room for questions about his actions, and denies any political motivations. Y/N watched impressed from the other end while Clark just looked around with a grim and irritated look, his arms crossed as he listened to the interview and watched his boyfriend fanboy over his secret comrade.

“Well, you certainly seem like the charming and noble benefactor, Mr. Wayne. I can see why you're known as ‘Gotham’s Favorite Son.’ I have to ask though, even if you truly have no political ambitions, aren’t you worried that these donations and announcements along with the unwavering stance you’ve taken on these political topics will inevitably place a target on you?” Lois asked, notepad and pen sitting with poise and precision, ready to take down every little thing the billionaire said.

“Wow, I can see why she’s so respected. She’s nailing this interview.” Y/N commented.

Clark nodded to that. Even if he wasn’t feeling the most agreeable at the moment, he’d always give hats off to Lois’ skills. The woman was a powerhouse when it came to this stuff.

“Well, first off, thank you for your earlier comment. I don’t think of myself as anyone’s favorite, but even I can’t control what the public says or does,” Bruce responded with his ever-so-billion-dollar smile, earning a laugh from Lois and probably every other American tuning into this broadcast, including Y/N.

Clark, however, wasn’t impressed. He’d heard funnier.

“But, to answer your question,” Bruce continued, “...any move in the business or even the political world I imagine can be considered a risky one. I’m not going to pretend that my decisions have made some very happy, and others very unhappy. That’s life. You can’t please everyone. But, to sit and accept things as the way they are for fear of retaliation or backlash is misery in itself. I believe anyone who doesn’t speak up for what they truly believe or want for fear of ‘rocking the boat’ is just content with living in their own misery. And, let me be clear before I’m canceled—I know the meaning behind that now thanks to my kids, particularly my two youngest sons—I’m not saying someone who’s genuinely content and happy with where they are is included in this. I’m specifically talking to those who want change, and want to create a better world, but are waiting for others to do it for them.”

Despite its clichéness, many in the hall gave a small clap to the CEO’s words, Y/N looking thoroughly impressed himself.

“Wow, he really is an inspiring man,” Y/N commented.

“He’s alright,” Clark said in response.

Y/N gave the taller man a suspicious side look, “Alright, what’s going on with you? You’ve been standing there pouting

since this interview started. What, do you not like Bruce Wayne or something?"

Clark sighed before looking down at his boyfriend. It was true, he wasn't really liking the guy at the moment. But, it was just because he was so jealous. He didn’t like how Y/N was looking at him, or how he was talking about him.

It wasn't fair.

The reporter wanted Y/N to be looking at him and only him like that, and he wanted his attention and affection, and he wanted him to only talk about him like that. It was petty, and it was selfish, but Clark didn’t care.

He just wanted Y/N to only admire Clark Kent. not Bruce Wayne.

Only Superman, not Batman.

Despite Y/N's earlier words about it not being a competition, Clark knew the truth. It was a competition, one he was not planning on losing.

"No, I don't not like him. I'm just not that impressed, is all. He's not a superhero." Clark said.

"Neither is Lex Luthor. But, that doesn't stop the public from making him the villain in his story. I'm sure there's a lot more to Bruce Wayne than the media is letting on."

"Oh, trust me. There's more to him than what meets the eye," Clark mumbled to himself as the interview was getting ready to wrap up.

"Well, on behalf of the Daily Planet, I'd like to thank you for joining us today. Your words are certainly ones that will not go unheard by many. I look forward to—"

Before Lois could finish speaking, the lights in the building suddenly went out, leaving the office pitch black. A few people in the hall gasp, Y/N instinctively grabbing Clark's arm, who in turn places his hand over the smaller man's own.

"What's going on?" Someone asks.

"I don't know. It's almost like a blackout, but it can't be because we have backup generators. They should've turned it on by now." Another responded.

"Clark, what's going on?" Y/N asked toward his boyfriend, who was holding the smaller male closer to him out of instinct.

"I'm not exactly sure..."

Just as he said that, the lights came back on, and everyone was looking around confused as to what the source of the blackout was.

"Oh my god!" One of the people in the hall screamed suddenly as everyone turned back towards the interview room. Inside the room, some members of the crew suddenly had masks with insignias covering their faces on them. One of them was behind Lois holding a dagger to her neck while another stood to the side, pointing a gun directly at Bruce's head.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Ms. Lane," The individual in the middle of the room said, "But, this interview isn't over just yet."

"Who the hell are you people?!" Lois asked, fear and anger in her eyes as the blade was held to her neck.

"Wouldn't you like to know? As for Mr. Wayne, we're going to have a little chat. I suggest you and your friends don't follow or intervene. Otherwise, this broadcast won't be the only thing getting cut" The masked individual threatened, nodding to Lois.

"Don't you dare touch her," Bruce warned, his expression serious, as he got ready to stand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Wayne. We wouldn't want anything bad to happen, now would we? Especially with all of America watching right now."

Bruce sat back down, knowing that his opponent was right. He couldn't let them hurt Lois, and he certainly couldn't risk any lives in this room.

"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. We'll make this quick," The leader said as one of the other masked goons went to lock the door that led inside the interview room.

"Clark, we have to do something," Y/N said, his heart racing a mile a minute.

"I know. Stay here. I'll be back." Clark said before running off, leaving the smaller male alone.

"What? Clark, wait! Where are you going?" Y/N called after him, but the taller man didn't hear him, already too far away.

'What the hell is he doing?' Y/N thought to himself before turning his attention back towards the situation in front of him.

As Clark rounded the corner and made his way down the hallway, he made sure no one was watching him before he ran as fast as he could into the supply closet. Once inside, he quickly changed into his suit before taking off through the backdoor.

"So, how does it feel knowing that you're on the side of the wrong? How does it feel knowing that no matter what you do, you'll never be able to fix the mess you made? All the lives lost because of you," The masked man asked Bruce, who was sitting calmly in his chair, his eyes not showing an ounce of fear.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. None of you wealthy elites do. You don't know the pain and suffering your companies and your products cause to others. You don't know the misery you cause. Well, allow us to show you." The man said before signaling his partners.

One of them immediately moved and grabbed a hold of the camera, pointing it directly at the masked man in the center.

"Hello, Metropolis. And hello, America. If you're watching this, that means you're just as much a part of this as we are. if you've been sitting here listening to the lies and promises of a better world by this man and his kind, you are as much a part of his schemes as he is. It is because of people like him that we have the world we live in. It's because of people like him that so many of us suffer. It's because of people like him that the world will only continue to rot and decay until there is nothing left but a pile of ashes. But, we will not be the ones who burn. We will not be the ones who lose. We will not be the ones who suffer, not anymore. Today, we fight back. Today, we will show the world that we will not be silenced, we will not be oppressed. We will not allow the likes of him and his kind to continue to control us anymore with false promises of a better tomorrow while lining their own pockets. Today, we say enough is enough. Today, we rise. Today, we will take back what is rightfully ours. Today, we take back our freedom and our lives from the rich and corrupt." The man spoke, his words filled with conviction and determination, but also hatred and poison as he stared deep into the camera.

"And if any of you try to stop us, then you will be considered just as guilty as the rest of them. We will not be silenced. We will not be ignored. And if you think that the likes of Batman and Superman will save you, I wouldn't be too sure of that..."

As soon as the leader was done with his speech, the sound of the glass shattering was heard as Superman broke through the windows, flying into the room before stopping directly in front of the man holding the camera.

"But, I am..." The Man of Steel said, shooting a laser beam at the dagger being held by the goon threatening Lois. He immediately dropped the blade as it became too hot, giving the Daily Planet reporter the opportunity she needed to escape his hold.

"Bastards," She cursed, turning around and delivering a kick to the masked man's groin.

He groaned out in pain, falling to the floor before Lois punched him in the face, knocking him out.

Superman turned his attention back toward the masked man standing in the center, "I believe it's time for you to take a hike."

"Not yet. We still have unfinished business," The man said before signaling his other henchman. The man immediately aimed his gun at the Kryptonian, firing shot after shot into him.

Superman stood his ground as the bullets hit him, before eventually, the gun ran out.

"You're right. This is definitely the end," Superman said as he flew toward the man, knocking him out before he could reload his gun.

As Superman finished off the last of the henchmen, the leader turned back towards the camera, "Sorry, Superman. But, the damage has already been done. I hope you enjoyed this little taste of what's to come."

Before the Kryptonian could stop him, the man took out a smoke bomb, throwing it onto the ground and covering the room in a cloud of smoke.

"Crap," Superman cursed, unable to see as the man escaped.

As the smoke began to clear, Bruce took out his phone, "Alfred, I need you to track this signal."

"Understood, sir. I've also informed the police and they're on their way," Alfred responded.

"Good," Bruce said before turning back towards the room.

The actual camera crew was not out in the hall, hugging their co-workers who were all relieved at their safety. The broadcast was cut from the air, but there was no doubt every TV station from here to San Francisco was talking about it. Y/N was standing nearby, his eyes filled with awe and admiration as he stared up at Superman.

There was something oddly familiar about him.

...

Nah.

"That was incredible, Mr. Wayne," Lois said.

"I could say the same thing about you. I'm glad you're ok."

Lois smiled at him, "You were worried about me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Bruce asked, a small smile forming on his lips.

Lois blushed slightly before turning back to look at Superman, who was now standing right in front of the two.

"Thank you for the save, Superman," Lois said, extending her hand out to the Kryptonian.

"My pleasure," Superman said, shaking the woman's hand before his attention was drawn toward Bruce who just gave him an appreciative nod. Though the look in his eyes signaled they would definitely be communicating about things later.

As Bruce and Lois moved towards the hallway, Lois spotted Y/N who was standing close to the door peeking inside.

"Oh Y/N, there you are! Thank goodness, you're alright." Lois said, walking over to him and hugging him.

"Yeah, I'm ok. Are you?" He asked, looking up at the woman.

"I'm fine. I'm tougher than I look."

"That's good to hear. And, it's good to see you’re okay as well Mr. Wayne. That was scary." Y/N said, turning his attention to the billionaire.

"Yes, I'm glad I'm alright, too," Bruce said, his attention on Y/N.

"Oh, Bruce Wayne, this is Y/N L/N. He's one of our upcoming new reporters along with Clark Kent, who you've met before." Lois said, introducing the two.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Y/N said, extending his hand out.

Bruce took it, giving the younger man a firm handshake, "The pleasure is all mine."

As the two looked at each other, Clark was standing nearby, his gaze focused on the two, his fists clenched.

'I swear to Rao...' He thought to himself, jealousy coursing through his body as he watched the two interact.

"So, Mr. Wayne, what do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked.

Bruce turned to look at the woman, an amused eyebrow raised, "He must be getting trained by you," He said, sparking a laugh from Lois and another eye roll from the Kryptonian before flying off, "And please, call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne makes me feel old."

"Bruce, then. What do you think that was all about?" Y/N asked again.

"Well, I can't be certain, but based on their words and their actions, I'd say they were a group of anarchists."

"Anarchists?"

"Yes. They're not an uncommon group. Many people are growing tired of the way things are in this country. With the state of the economy and the government, it's only a matter of time before things begin to boil over."

"So, you think this is going to happen more often?"

"I'm not sure. But, I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them."

Y/N nodded his thoughts on the events that had transpired earlier.

"Y/N!" Clark called, interrupting the conversation.

"Clark, there you are! You had me worried sick," The smaller male said while hugging his boyfriend, missing the sharp look the taller man was throwing at the billionaire.

"I just went to alert the building security and the police. Seems everything turned alright though since Superman showed up," Clark said, wrapping an arm around the younger man's waist while still giving a side eye to Bruce who was watching with amusement.

"Yes, thank goodness he did. I'm sure we all owe him a huge thanks for his services."

"Yes, indeed we do. But, unfortunately, I must be going now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N." Bruce said, extending his hand once more to the younger man, who took it, shaking it gently.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, too."

Bruce smiled at him before turning back to Lois, "And it was a pleasure seeing you again, Lois."

"Likewise, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce smirked, "I do believe we're a bit past the formalities now, Lois. Please, call me Bruce."

"Of course. Bruce." The woman replied, her tone flirty and her expression coy.

Y/N noticed this and turned to look at Clark, whose expression was blank as he looked on.

"Will do, Lois. I look forward to our next meeting," Bruce said before stopping in front of Clark.

"Good seeing you as well Clark, as short-lived as it was," Bruce said, extending his hand out for a handshake.

Clark reluctantly took it, the handshake lasting longer than was necessary.

"Likewise," Clark replied.

Bruce nodded, his eyes giving the reporter a knowing look before he was escorted out by security.

Once the billionaire was out of sight, Clark and Y/N decided to leave as well, making their way towards the elevator.

"Well, that was a crazy day," Y/N said.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Do you think Bruce Wayne knows Batman?"

Clark stopped mid-step, a shocked expression on his face as he looked down at his boyfriend.

"Are you serious right now? You can't be serious?" The taller man said with an indignant expression.

"What?"

"You're still thinking of Batman after Superman just came and saved everyone?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, he's a hero too. They both are. Besides, Superman is always getting most of the credit, don't you think? It would make sense if they were working together. You know, the world's greatest detective and the world's greatest hero, solving crime and catching the bad guys. Wouldn't that be so cool?" Y/N asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the thought.

"No, not really. I don't see why that would be a good idea," Clark said, rolling his eyes.

Y/N sighed, "Clark, remember what we talked about earlier about it not being a competition?"

Clark looked down at the smaller man, his eyes filled with frustration, "Yeah, but it doesn't mean you have to obsess over Batman. Superman is just as obsessed-worthy!"

"Clark, seriously, what is up with you? It's not like I want to marry him or something."

"You're acting like you want to," Clark mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, Clark. I'm not going to say I'm not a fan of Batman. I mean, I think he's cool. But, that doesn't mean that I'm not a fan of Superman either. I'm a fan of both of them. I think they're both great heroes, and I think they both do good work."

"But, you don't think that Batman is cooler, or that he's better than Superman?" Clark asked, his expression pleading.

"I mean, I guess. But, why does that matter? Why are you so hung up about this?"

"Because, I—" Clark started before stopping, knowing he was about to give away his identity.

"You what?"

"I just want you to think of me, is all," Clark said, looking down at the ground, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Y/N's heart softened at the confession, the older man looking like a little kid who just got his favorite toy taken away. He stepped forward, cupping the taller man's face in his hands, causing him to look up.

"Clark, I do think about you. I think about you all the time and I love how protective you are of me. Whether I like Batman or Superman more isn't going to change that" Y/N said, trying his best to ease his boyfriend's fears.

"Promise?" Clark asked.

Y/N chuckled, "I promise."

"Good," Clark smiled while leaning down to place a kiss against his boyfriend's lips, "You should still like Superman more."

Y/N rolled his eyes, "Sure thing, Clark. I'll work on that."

"Thank you."

"Whatever. Now come on, we now have a celebratory date to go on." Y/N said as he grabbed Clark's hand.

"What are we celebrating?" Clark asked with a laugh as he was pulled towards the elevator.

It was always adorable watching the smaller male pull Clark around like it was nothing.

"Surviving our first criminal encounter together," Y/N said while hitting the first-floor button.

"First?"

"Honey, we live in a city with sky-high insurance because a superhero lives here. You really think this will be the last?"

He definitely doesn't.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[edgeray]

“LATE NIGHT DEVIL, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME

and never never never ever let go”- Teeth, 5 Seconds of Summer

Mafia AU! Arlecchino x Reader Oneshot

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've actually published anything on here. Well, my gay ass is back with another oneshot. This one has been in the works for at least a month. I'm considering making a Part 2, but that will definitely take at least a couple weeks for me to publish (if not months). I wish I was kidding. School literally hates me and my teachers are incessant on killing my GPA. This is also a gift for @megistusdiary because it'll be her birthday when I post this. Please go check out her blog for amazing genshin wlw content (especially Arlecchino content!) Would you guys like this on AO3 as well?

Content Warning/Info: This is a long af oneshot (6.3k words), long af descriptions and kinda long intro, Arlecchino is referred to with they/them pronouns, implied female but no usage of feminine pronouns for Reader, general dark-ish content, pet names, Arlecchino is a lil scary, I've never been to a club so I apologize for the very inaccurate information, nor have I ever been apart of the mafia so also inaccurate, a bit suggestive but otherwise sfw, if I'm missing anything feel free to tell me!

---

Monsters are said to have lied underneath beds–waiting to ensnare an unknowing victim–or stalk hidden among the depths of a closet–awaiting an opportune moment to strike its next prey. Monsters are fabled entities that are used to scare off children from bad behavior and are quickly eased from the mind by coddling parents. The mere notion of a monster shooed away like a pesky fly, swept underneath the subconscious like forgotten specks of dirt. 

You know otherwise. Real monsters don’t lurk on the undersides of mattresses; no, they lurk both in the skies above and the depths below. They do not stalk dark closets because they instead stalk alleys in daylit streets. Monsters are very real, that you know is true since you’ve seen your fair share of them. You’ve met monsters in person–they’ve come to you before. Terrifying is an understatement for them, and each time one has appeared as a client, you’re no less scared shitless.

You’ve learned that even inhumane demons find themselves in need of entertainment; like the sinful creatures they are, they seek self-pleasure. And that is how you found yourself in this particular circle of hell, meant to serve and please demons, devils, and monsters alike. Perhaps it was a revolting job, working at a strip club run by a criminal organization but it paid decent money for being danced on the fingertips of whoever you were unfortunate enough to be assigned to.

If it was a regular strip club, being an exotic dancer would have been fine. It wouldn't be so bad. Lustful and prying eyes can be accustomed to quickly, and so are the flattering compliments and the awkward flirting by middle-aged married men. However, there was a difference between lecherous and predatory gazes. Here, you aren’t even viewed as a person, no, the clients here, those that come in reeking of smoke or blood (though sometimes both), armed with knives and guns on their person, see you as nothing more than a toy or prey for them. Even in the eyes of your employer, you're less than human in their eyes. 

‘You harm our merchandise, you’ll pay for it,’ is the warning given to every guest when they first enter. Merchandise. That's what you are. And that single line of words is the only thing that assures you of your safety among mafia members, gangsters, crooks, and whatnot. You've heard that the organization behind this strip club does well in enforcing that rule according to other dancers, but you personally don't want to see if the statement is true. You've been here for a little over a year, and besides bruising grips and pulled hair you’ve surprisingly yet to be seriously injured in any way. So maybe monsters do have a little humanity in them. 

You're quickly growing to be a fan favorite as of recently, which means more money goes your way, but you're not sure how you feel about all the attention on you. It's most likely because of how often you offer private dances and private rooms to clients. Whatever gets you the most money; the faster you make money the faster you can pay off your debt and be out of here. 

Tonight is supposed to be no different from other nights. You perform on stage, you rile up the crowd, you get showered in tips, and if there is a customer that looks mentally sane enough not to murder you in private, you take them to the back. Except, tonight, you're approached by your boss, who informs you that the entirety of the club was reserved by the Fatui, a well-known mafia more powerful and larger than the one that backs you up, for some celebration. These kinds of occurrences in the club rarely crop up, but when they do, they're often the most opportune time to bag in an abundant amount of money. Big shots like the Fatui pay and tip well, but there's one unsaid risk that comes with this: as a mere dancer like yourself, your life quite literally dangles in the Fatuis’ hands tonight. The organization that owns this establishment can't retaliate against the Fatuis if they so choose to dismiss the warning. They can't even compare to the might of the Fatui.

Simply put, if a Fatui kills you tonight, no one could do more besides bat their eyelashes. You're not at all pleased with this predicament of practically bordering on death, especially when you know one wrong move with one too hot-tempered Fatui could land you at the pearly gates. Keep pleasing the crowd, keep entertaining them, keep racking in the money, you remind yourself as you continue your dance, twirling around the pole sensually, and the customers devour every movement with their eyes. The only comfort you're given is that you've heard the Fatui are quite reasonable and diplomatic most of the time. This is especially true for the Harbingers, you've heard, the twelve most elite members that serve under the Tsaritsa, and the ones that are the most exclusive customers this night. That doesn't mean the Harbingers are any more humane than the average crook. Having worked in a strip club run by the mafia and surrounded by criminal organizations, the more rumored something is, the more dangerous it is. They can be considered devils amongst demons even. That's simply how vile they're supposed to be. 

The most concerning problem about the Harbingers is that you don’t know what they look like, only the occasional whisper has alluded to how to distinguish between the twelve. Perhaps, you can survive through the night if you try not to draw too much attention; let the other dancers shine instead and hope you don’t get requested for a private room or dance. That way, you can ensure you don’t end up dead. 

Your time to go upstage comes sooner than you’re prepared for. Your hands are clammy, and your form trembles in a way that only happened during your first month. Both reactions don’t make for a very good combination when your survival relies on you not fucking up and disappointing criminal customers. As you approach the pole, just like every time you’ve done, you make sure that the crowd’s gazes are in the backdrop of your mind, and instead, fixate on repeating the movements you’ve been taught and have mastered with your experience. Bet your survival on the provocative sway of your hips, the practiced showcase of your legs, and the allure of your dancing form. Beguile the crowd, but not too much, just enough to wow them. From what you can tell by the volume of the crowd, you’re doing a good job pleasing the Fatui enough. Your body stops tremoring after a few minutes on stage, and with one last final push of courage, you focus your eyes on the crowd before you.

Unsurprisingly, the makeup of the Fatui are men, though there are notably quite a few women. Either way, all of their attention is on you. As your eyes scan across a crowd, for one reason or another, you stop at a particular set of eyes near the back of the crowd. Intent, pitch-black abysses stare back, like they were trying to bore into your soul and devour every single motion of yours. They don’t quite hold the same ravenous desire as many of those before you right now, you mentally note with curiosity. It feels like your form is being calculated, in the way a predator would cautiously observe their next prey, a sensation you’ve experienced a few times, but each is no less chilling. The weight of their engrossed gaze causes you to shiver momentarily, and you snap away from their disturbing gaze to prevent any fumbling or faltering while you’re on stage. 

Tonight marks the first time you actively seek out the same viewer while on stage, or even, during your entire time here. For some reason, you feel awfully bold, or curious, whichever two comforts you more, and unlike the meek little rabbit you usually are, you instead search for the viewer’s gaze. You find the pair of eyes with relative ease, as you remember that above their eyes are distinctive snow-white strands with streaks as black as their orbs. You take a moment to study them, and they remind you of a lion–or lioness–among hyenas. The aura they exude varied quite a bit compared to the other Fatui in front of you: not rambunctious, or arrogant; it's apparent they held an aura of indomitable authority just from the way they held themselves. Perfect posture with their clasped hands nested in their lap, with one leg raised over the other. They’re an embodiment of perfected elegance, however, much like a porcelain doll, they’re also expressionless, their appearance unmarred. You don’t examine the Fatui’s form for much longer because their scrutiny on you pricks at your skin irritatedly. 

You don’t look for them again throughout your performance. In fact, you hope you never meet those charcoal pits again. You’re afraid that if you do, you’ll be ensnared by whatever beastly claws or fangs you know that Fatui hides underneath that impenetrable mask. The moment your time on stage ends, you rush back to the changing room to shake off your nerves. You sit down at a nearby chair, taking in deep sighs as you attempt to forget how you were stared down like a you were cornered, defenseless animal. And that is what you are, as much as you hate it. There’s nothing that can protect you from the Fatui. Maybe if you hide, never show your face for the rest of the night, they’ll forget they ever saw you and they’ll target another dancer. Surely, that will work, won’t it? 

You’re able to steady your breathing before you can delve into a panic attack. Tonight, you decide, you’re not going to take any customers to any private rooms or take any private dances. You’d be missing out on a lot of money, but your life is more of a priority as of currently; not after the ‘encounter’ with that individual, you don’t want to think about how many more are just like them, hiding in the crowd like they were awaiting an opportunity to pounce on your vulnerable form. 

Unfortunately, it seems like someone else has other plans for you because your manager storms into the room asking for your whereabouts before his eyes narrow on you. You immediately sit up, stiff as a board when he practically marches his way towards you. 

"Someone wants you." 

You sigh and shake your head. You should have known. "Not tonight." 

He clicks his tongue. "You know I can't allow that tonight." 

You bite your lip. "Just pass them to someone else." 

"They're not someone you or I can refuse." 

"Who?" You question with a shuddering breath, your nails digging into your thigh. 

"The fourth one. The Knave. Lord Arlecchino."

Fuck your life. You might as well pull the trigger now. You’ve heard faint whispers of each Harbinger from the customers audacious enough to speak of them. The youngest, the eleventh, charming and boyish. The ninth, money-obsessed but a pretty looker. The eighth, elegant and cold, yet no less alluring. The seventh, as human-like as their robotic creations, which to say isn’t very. The sixth, is hotheaded and mysterious. The fifth, unknown. And the fourth?

Insane. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. That’s how the fourth is described. You shiver at the horrors that appear on the forefront of your mind when imagining what may come for you. If you're lucky, you'll be alive at the end of the night, more than likely clinging to the edge of living. 

“Well? What are you waiting for? Get ready as soon as you can.” 

And you do. It’s not long until you stand in front of the private room’s door, your guest is already inside more than likely. The Fourth Harbinger is waiting, you remind yourself, fruitlessly trying to swallow down your stress. You can be dead the minute you step inside, this room could be marked as your grave. Whatever he tells you to do, you’ll obey wordlessly to survive. Just nod along, smile, and do whatever it is that he tells you regardless of the demand. You inhale deeply, regaining some ease of mind, before you bring your knuckles to the door, knocking. 

“Come in,” comes a deep, flat voice, slightly muffled by its distance but what surprises you is how feminine the Harbinger sounds. Maybe you got the wrong room. You glance back at the room number plate on the door, and it’s the room you remember your manager mentioning. It’s the right room. Maybe someone else? You don’t have time to wonder, however, as you enter the room, knowing that if it is the Fourth, it wouldn’t be wise to keep him (Her? Them? You’ll just stick with ‘them’ now.) waiting. 

“Lord Arlecchino?” You inquire as you enter the room, closing the door behind you. Sucking in a harsh inhale, you instantly recognize their distinct hair. It’s them. Your sight is immediately greeted by the figure sitting on the couch before you, sitting in exactly the same way you discovered them–crossed-legged and lounging back with unfaltering confidence. The Knave wears a scarlet blazer over a black compressed turtleneck, with a matching set of crimson leggings. Upon closer inspection, you’re able to make out red irises in their jet-black eyes. Despite the blatant and literal red flag, something about their appearance draws you in even when they scream danger. They’re… you’re not quite sure how to describe them. You admire the unblemished and pale skin, their elegant and rugged demeanor is like the perfect balance between femininity and masculinity. Are they beautiful, or are they handsome? You think both. 

Arlecchino stares back at you like they’re considering devouring you then and there. You can’t suppress the shudder that runs down your spine. You’re a sheep before a wolf. There’s something so chilling about them that even with your experience with other clients, none has ever made you feel this way with just their mere gaze alone. This is what separates the average crook from one of the most powerful mafia members you've ever heard of.

You wait for a response but they only continue to observe you. You take the silence as confirmation to your question and that they’re anticipating something from you. Biting back a sigh of resignation, your hands hook underneath the band of your bra top and you lift it just the slightest amount before a cutting voice makes you freeze.

“What are you doing?” the Harbinger demands, their tone chilling and apathetic, making you want to shrink in yourself immediately. Your blood pumps loudly in your ears and your hands tremble a bit. Something about how designing their gaze makes you suddenly self-aware in a way you’ve never felt before another client–you’re practically half-naked in front of them with your skimpy bra top, undergarments, and fishnets and now is the only moment that you've actually considered how little covering is on you. 

Why are they stopping you? Isn’t this what they wanted you to do? Or maybe they just want to do it themselves. Those types of customers always have the most bruising of grips and suffocating of holds. You stiffen at the notion. How are you going to survive this night with a Fatui Harbinger of all things? How many of your limbs are going to be fractured and how many of your bones are going to end up broken? 

“I…I’m undressing,” your meek voice sounds out and you hate the crack in your speech. The Harbinger continues to scrutinize you. You don’t dare continue disrobing yourself. 

There are several beats of wordless response before they then stand up from the couch. 

Oh shit. You’ve fucked up. Are they going to kill you now? Is this your end? 

Every thought is telling you to run in the opposite direction as they stalk up to you, but you're petrified as you realize with a chill that they’re taller than you. You’re not short by any means, a bit above average height, but they tower over you, looking down at you from above and casting judgment on you like a god. Once they stride toward you, you avoid eye contact by looking straight, observing their neck and clavicle that protrudes from underneath the fabric. You tense when they raise a hand, their manicured fingers placing themselves underneath your chin and long, carmine nails dig into the underside of your jaw, making you wince. They forcefully tilt your head, raising your focus onto their face. 

It’s like they plunged their hands down your throat and ripped out the oxygen from your lungs, leaving you unable to breathe. Up close, the first thing you notice is their lips, plump and red from their lipstick. Briefly, you wonder what color their lipstick would look on your skin. Then your eyes travel up, red-crossed eyes gaze back at you and you gape quietly at the distinct shape of their pupils. You swear that their pupils flash red as you finally lock eye contact with them. 

“Did I tell you to?” Their tone is cold compared to the strange softness of their handsome (beautiful?) face. 

Something in your gut coils inwardly and you want to look away, but their firm hold on your chin prevents you. You bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. You’re delicate glass in their hands, and they can break you so, so easily. 

“No, sir.” Only the numerous times you’ve said this phrase ensures you don’t stumble over your words. They don’t answer promptly, but as they observe your features, their lips quirk up the slightest amount. 

“You know how to address me. Very good,” Arlecchino purrs after several beats of silence, in a low, oh-so-sultry tone, and oh. Oh. 

You’re not sure why, but their last two words make your stomach churn, but not in a discomforting way. In the way that lights a fire underneath your skin and spreads heat to every part of your body. You’ve never quite felt this way with another customer. You couldn’t believe that your body reacts this way just from a single praise but it doesn’t stop the pooling heat in your bowels. The chill down your spine still remains in place, but there’s an off-putting equilibrium of iciness and fervor generated from the client. 

The Fatui’s eyes stay fixated on you wordlessly until the hand on your chin turns your head, finally breaking you free of their intense behold. Their grip slackens so that they can trace their nails gently down your throat, every inch of surface their fingertips brush against ignites a blaze on your skin. A shuddering exhale leaves your lips and it seems like they take notice because from the corner of your eye, the small uptick of their mouth grows. Despite how sensual and probing the Harbinger’s touch feels, there’s nothing lecherous about it–purely just intrigue and fascination. It’s a touch you both have and never experienced before. Cold nails rake against your throat, not enough to mark or scratch, but enough to invoke shivers. 

You’re aware you should be terrified, but for a reason you can’t pin down, you can’t jerk away from their touch. You try to reason with yourself it was only because you’re one upset away from getting yourself killed but that reasoning falls apart when their hand gingerly traces your jawline and you make the softest of groans, a barely audible noise of content. Unfortunately for you, the sound seems to have reached Arlecchino’s ears and their expression softens slightly: their eyes narrow less and their brows aren’t as creased. And that smirk–if you could even call it that from how faint it is–becomes a half-smirk. 

They pull their hand away and your trance is broken, reality returning back to you as you remember that the person before you is still a Fatui Harbinger, no matter how bizarrely melting their touch was. They turn on their heel and walk towards the couch in front of you; the slightest bit of heaviness is placed on your heart. You remain stationary where you are, observing them as they seat themselves gracefully on the couch, and their attention encounters yours again. Their black pits hold expectancy in them. At first, you’re clueless as to what the criminal desires from you, but then their legs spread apart, an inviting gesture that beckons you and every rational thought leaves your easily swayed mind. Your heart skips a beat, and you're sure this time it's not out of trepidation. 

Even if you didn’t command them to, your legs would take you to their seating figure. You stand before them, feeling blatantly disrespectful to look down at Arlecchino, but you await their order. They lean back, lounging laxly against the couch, their posture never lacking their usual self-assurance. It only ties the knot in your gut tighter. You’re aware of what they’re instructing you to do, but the absent confirmation makes you hesitant. It seems like the Knave picks up on this because the room echoes with one definitive spouted word from their lips, authority and dominance ringing through their husky voice. 

“Sit.” 

Your legs buckle underneath you from the one-worded response, the demand only stoking the consuming fire inside you. Eager to please, you perch yourself on their lap, straddling them, your knees pressed into the furniture below you and encasing both of their thighs between your own. 

Oh, you think to yourself as your legs make contact with their thighs. They're firm. And for some reason, that provokes your stomach to churn in itself even more. You're so close to them, enough to feel their breath cascade against your skin. 

As you seat yourself, you nearly clumsily topple over, instinctively grasping onto their shoulders for support. Their shoulders are remarkably broad, you regard, well-muscled as well. Their hands creep up on your hips, steady but gentle hands grasping on each bare side of yours to stabilize you. The heat that radiates from their hands is infectious, regardless of the nails that burrow into your plush waist. For the first time, you flush considerably, a sweltering inferno forming in your cheeks and your head fills with dizziness. Their touch is gentle–something you rarely experience with customers–so, so gentle that you would describe it as heavenly. How can someone so inexplicably vile have heaven on their fingertips?

It's not a position you never found yourself in. In fact, it's far from the first time you've been like this with another client. But here, as you're sat on top of the Fatui Harbinger, and red x-pupils search yours, a foreign feeling passes through you. Placing your finger on it, you dubiously think it's bashfulness, but the heartbeat that sings in your ears and pulses underneath your fingertips tells you otherwise, tells you it's something more. Against that, you remove your grasp on their shoulders and place your palm flat against the couch’s surface behind the Knave. 

You squirm a bit, nervousness in your form as you remain as still as you possibly can, waiting for any more instructions. All you need to do is act like an obedient doll for them in order to survive; compliance is the best way of ensuring survival with people like these. You feel like you're merely eye candy from the way that their attention flits across your body, but you're immobile throughout the entirety of their observance. Being looked at is much better than any physical interaction. Their hands still cup your hips, but slowly, they descend to the side of your thighs, making your skin feel tingly. 

Impulsively, you mumble out a quiet "Sir…" as strange sensations brush against your skin. 

The sound surprises you and you feel on edge as their eyes travel from your lower half to your face. You gulp considerably. From their stare, they expect more of a response, a reason for their addressment, but even you don’t know yourself; it seems like an unconscious calling that just rolled off your tongue. You cow underneath their gaze, even when the two of you are at eye level. When you linger in quietude, their hand releases one of your thighs and lifts to your face, supporting your chin while their thumb rests on your bottom lip, unfurling it just the slightest amount to implore an answer from your now parted lips. Gleaming scarlet pupils grip your regard sternly, piercing into you and instilling you to spew something out. Except, you still can’t, now too entranced and lost in the crimson. 

“Doll.” 

Despite the pet name, it's devoid of any affection or warmth. It's a word that drips of command, a reminder of your place: simply a toy that they can play with however they want, a manipulated and decorated plaything for their amusement. That means you answer to them, and so when they request a response, you're under the obligation to please them. Your survival is in their palms anyway, if they wanted you to dance, you would just so they wouldn’t strangle the life out of you. 

However, its implication doesn’t prevent the tingling shudders that wrack your body nor the involuntary clenching of your thighs around theirs. Was it the gravelly voice that aroused your behavior? Your cheeks flare at the knowledge that Harbinger sensed the physical reaction. It shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible, your thoughts repeat, but then they're interrupted by: 

"Oh?" Arlecchino inquires to themselves, a stark amusement in their speech. Their red glare illuminates slightly, replacing the lost darkening with a faint glow in their pupils, and the corner of their mouth curls up. It is only then that you discover something entirely new: that monsters can be sinfully, cataclysmically, terrifyingly beautiful and the sight before you is the most exquisite example. A devil has you wrapped in its claws and its fangs readied for devouring but it’s disguised as an ethereal angel; blinded by their perilous allure, you mistake their snow-white hair, their lustrous piercing rubies, their flawless porcelain skin, and their burning, fleeting touches as traits of a seraph. From a measly smirk, you forget the atrocities lying underneath their fingertips and dismiss the hazard their presence holds. 

The hand on your thigh rakes its fingers up, red nails trailing across the surface of your fishnet, wrenching out a breathy gasp from you as they travel inwards. Tingling pleasure injects into your veins as you subconsciously lean in, imploring for further sensual contact. A plea sits on your tongue and nests in your eyes as you beg them through your pitiful expression. They drink in your desperation with a slow swipe of their tongue over their lips, and that single action is debauched enough to elicit a soft groan from your throat.

“Well, aren’t you an amusing toy?” They drawl out with a preposing rasp and dark abysses glint with an insatiable hunger. 

They smirk enticingly, their thumb running across your bottom lip and smearing your lipstick on their thumb pad. Their grip on your chin tightens a bit, pulling you even closer to them before a shadow casts over you when their face nears. Before you can even fathom their intentions, they descend upon you, closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips are greeted with something pillowy soft and fervently warm, and you sharply inhale from the sensation. Every one of your nerves sings frenziedly, your muscles tense all over, and your heartbeat drums deafeningly in your ears–all of this as your body is engulfed in a fervid tornado of heat that makes you lightheaded with pleasure. It takes you several beats to realize the reason for this is that Lord Arlecchino, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave is kissing–no, kissing is far too intimate, devouring–you voraciously like they're trying to rob you of any air, trying to imprint themselves on your mouth. Their mouth dominates yours, pushing against them with a deep fervor and famished urgency, eager to swallow every bit of shocked noise you make. 

You close your eyes and allow yourself to indulge. 

You first taste lipstick with a waxy flavor hitting your tastebuds. It’s cold against your lips, yet warm at the same time. But the physical texture and flavor of their lips are irrelevant; there’s only one true manner you would distinguish their taste: 

They taste like sin. 

The type of sin that’s chocolate coated and sprinkled with colorful toppings; depravity so sweet and charming it makes you reconsider the bounds of right and wrong. Degeneracy is far, far tastier than anything you’ve indulged in before. How can something so evil be so heavenly? Cushiony soft, placidly warm, flatteringly zealous, it’s like having a dance with a devil; so unequivocally immoral but no less gratifying. You question if they really belong to the Fatui because how can something like this come from such? You want to engrave the texture of their mouth onto your memory, feel this faux intimacy even when you’ve long parted. The Fourth Harbinger, you surmise as you surrend your will to them, is decadent–the only word that can be defined as both wicked and delectable at once–the perfect word to describe them. 

The last remaining bit of reasoning comes to the backdrop of your thoughts and begs you to not be swept away in the heavenly embrace. You discount it in favor of accepting this godsent gift by leaning further with a weak imitation of their ravishing lips and pressing back. It’s a feeble attempt to match their insatiate nature, far too domineering and forceful than you can manage but they display a token of appreciation when they squeeze your thigh, indenting your skin shallowly with the burrowing of their nails. The action exposes just how sensitive you’ve gone underneath their touch and you reward them with the sweetest of sounds. 

“Arlecchino,” you mumble with half-lidded dazed eyes in between ravenous exchanges and it evokes a depraved throaty growl from the Fatui, like provoking a call from a starving beast. They lean deeper to indulge in your taste. The gruff sound reaches your ears and it’s like a psalm–you shudder from its musical melody. 

Their clutch on your jaw releases and their fingers outline your jawline before snaking to the back of your head. Well-manicured digits entangle themselves in your hair, and there’s a gentle shove against your skull that forces you deeper into the kiss. Your hands clutch onto the couch underneath you as tight as you physically can for any sense of grounding and your knees attempt to close in even more to feel more of their body against yours. The hand on your leg, in turn, caresses the length of your thigh. 

Every graceful touch, stroke, and brush exudes an unyielding and infectious warmth that only adds to the stoking fire in your gut, and you’re bathed in so much swelter from the ecstasy that you feel dizzy. Yet, you never want it to end, you grow more addicted and drunk with each encounter of their lips. That, paired with your strained breathing, prompts your stamina to falter much sooner than the Harbinger’s. You let out a soft whine to signal your depleting oxygen, and their mouth unlatch with yours, pulling away despite your ache for more. With the separation comes a small string of saliva attached between the two of you, evidence of the shared intimacy that’s snapped when they lick their lips. The hand behind your head detangles from your hair and you silently mourn over the loss of contact. 

You heave for air, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You’re a little perturbed when you notice that they’re not even out of breath, a small but firm reminder that they’re as inhuman as humans can be. That knocks a sense of reality back into you. Customer, mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, it comes back to you like a train. Here you are swapping spit with them while in the lap of potentially the most dangerous criminal you could ever meet, but fuck were they a good kisser–you’ve never experienced anything that came close to this in your lifetime.

Any foolish doubtful contemplation of the morality of this interaction is swept away just like that when you hear:

“Greedy little thing that you are,” they regard with the most cunning and handsome of smiles, discrete amusement dripping from their words. Their dark pits behold you entirely, the same way they have always done when it seems like they were contemplating what part of you to savor the most. Only this time, you’re not so disturbed by the notion. If anything, the swirling heat in between your legs suggests the opposite.  

Greedy wasn't a word often associated with you, yet you couldn't more correctly describe yourself in that moment. Greedy. Greedy for a Fatui Harbinger no less. As ashamed as you should be, there's no use denying that you crave for their touch, for their gaze, for anything and everything they're willing to give you. You want everything and more. The more you contemplate, the more it seems obvious why you wouldn’t. Are they a devil disguised as an angel, or are they an angel that fell from grace? Regardless, they bring nirvana to you. An incessant desire bubbles inside you, your throat swelling up with an urgent request on the tip of your tongue. Would they allow such a thing if you plead? Would they be offended by your impudence? Would they punish you for such? But the necessity outweighs any reconsideration of your insolence and the supplicant beg tumbles out of your loose lips. 

“Can I… touch you please, my Lord?” You croak out, wincing at just how wretched it comes out. The response from them is not immediate as the two of you stew in silence, a building sense of dejection inside of you. The expression on their face noticeably contorts, smile lessening, their brows furrowing, and their red x’s glinting dimly. Their free hand raises to near your neck and you suck in a harsh breath as their fingers enclose around your throat. The mere action sends a stinging reminder to your lust-dazed thoughts about their position, and a chill pierces you. 

Mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave–the labels cycle through your thoughts. Though their grip is lax, not exactly suffocating and giving ample space to breathe, their fingertips does acutely jab into your skin, a display of their impressive grip strength. You have no doubt that they can suffocate you with one hand alone, snap your neck, or, as your mind ventures into more harrowing territories, crush your skull. Those thoughts alone has you breathless with anticipation. A heavy weight suddenly appears in your gut, so heavy that you feel like you can’t move so much as a muscle. 

Did you just go too far? Was that too much to ask? Was this how you were going to die?

The reflex to gag and inhale combat each other in your throat, a discomforting sensation that crawls up your spine while you tremble. You’re almost certain that the nails have penetrated the layer of skin, drawing beads of blood that’ll trail down your mark. You whimper at the prickly pain. Yet, in all your unease, the most masochistic thought arrives briefly at the forefront, and you can’t help but consider: this position is just as intimate as all the other interactions. You’re already so vulnerable in their lap, does the hand around your neck change your peril in any way? No, you’ve been a defenseless lamb to a slaughter the moment you’ve stepped into the domain of a menacing wolf. 

Ah. Even now, you can’t dismiss the warmth of their fingertips. 

“Do you still want to touch me when I do this?” They demand callously, their voice harsh and reverberating through the room. Their grasp closes more around, and you feel your supply of oxygen inhibited. Tears begin to brim your eyes, but you’re undeterred. Unlike Arlecchino’s, your answer is instant and breathless. Your eyes intently lock on theirs, the hardened expression enough to satisfy their question. There’s no need for contemplation. Danger, you determine, is addicting. 

“Yes.”

The previously small smile stretches across their lips considerably. Content, or dare you say it, thrill writes itself over their face and the boulder previously pressed against your shoulders is lifted. Your throat is freed from their hold, but their touch doesn’t halt there. Instead, they rotate your head for you to face to the left, exposing your side profile to them. From the corner of your eyes, you watch as their face draws closer to your skin, hot breath cascading across the small dents her nails created. The one on your thigh finally leaves, moving to one of your hips, tender strokes across your flushed surface. They lean forward, and moist, plush skin meets yours. Lips traverse over the length of your neck, teeth scraping against, making you weakly groan. It takes all of your will to still your body, only allowing for the Harbinger to do whatever they desire to your form. Their touches are burning, burning, burning–so hot that you wonder if you’re experiencing a heat wave. Peppered kisses follow the edge of your jawbone, all the way up to your earlobe. A wet kiss graces your ear and then the most sinful of statements dignifies your eardrums, like a devil whispering hymns directly into your ear. 

“I think I’ll keep you to myself after this.”

A short hum follows afterward. 

“If you want to touch me, you’ll have to work for it. You’re only mine for tonight, aren't you? Entertain me. Give me a private dance, doll. After all, you have me for all night.” 

---

Link to M-Alexa's amazing art and how I imagine Arlecchino to look like in this oneshot.

[raayllum]

She Must Pay the Price, or A Drop of Mercy :: A Rayla and Leola Meta

Quick:

You're a young elven girl, and you show mercy and compassion to a human that you definitely weren't supposed to. When it's found out, you're punished, with elves even calling for your execution (6x09, book 1 novelization). Your father does what he can, but there's only so much. You're put on trial. You're found guilty regardless of intent, and only by association. You die for this; you die for them. You're a star. A guiding light. There's even a Great Fall off a precipice (though only one of you hits the ground).

Your name is Leola, or Rayla.

You're the beginning and the end, respectively.

So let's talk about it.

Tests of Love

For years, I had wondered where Aaravos' assessment of "Those who fail tests of love are simple animals. They deserve to be motivated by fear" (2x09) came from, cause you don't drop in a line like that if it's not going somewhere. It's quite a statement and worldview, after all. Now, with Leola's trial, it seems we know.

We can see, then, perhaps that Leola's gift giving was the first test of love — are you willing to break the Natural Law, the Natural Order of things? — to help another? To show another a source of power in order to share, to be compassionate, and in Rayla's case, to be merciful (though we'll get more to that in a minute).

We also know that the love Leola had was powerful and all encompassing:

She didn't care to follow the order set in the stars. Though she was born an immortal being from the Heavens, she loved this world... and all its flaws. Her heart was warm and open.

And she befriended mortals. Animals, elves... and humans.

ETHARI: Who I love, where I love, what I love, are all specific. But to Runaan and those like your parents... love is rooted in all families, all creatures. Souls like that feel called to protect everyone as fiercely as those they hold close. (Bloodmoon Huntress)

Okay, so Leola and Rayla both have big compassionate hearts and befriend creatures from all over the place. So what? So do Callum, Ezran, Soren, and most of our other main good guy characters. Even Claudia to a degree (though she could work on not using magical creatures for spell parts).

Well, specifically, it's because of how they intersect currently more with anyone else on the concept of

Mercy

KOSMO: Daughter of the Moon, yours is a wondrous heart. In a moment of mercy, you sent ripples out into the ocean of time. Ripples that have not yet stilled. (6x05)

Rayla sparing Marcos, as noted in multiple interviews by the creators and by myself in previous metas, is ultimately the inciting incident / lynchpin of the entire series. Without it, there would've been no soulfang proposal or Ez running away to find the egg or any of the number of other elements that had to come together to make achieving peace possible.

While we still have details to discover regarding Aaravos' Fall and development of dark magic, we know that a lack of mercy was ultimately what sent him on his path of vengeance. Leola was not shown mercy, and while it seems there were already "flaws" for an imperfect world, things were (probably) better than they currently are in Xadia in a variety of ways. Then, to kick off the entire Saga, we have Rayla sparing Marcos in a soundtrack literally titled "Mercy" and have Kosmo, seasons and seasons later, spell out directly what a big deal this was for well, the ocean of time.

None of this is to say Rayla can't act out of revenge — she did ("when I first came here, I was on a mission for revenge") and she has ("but I became so obsessed with revenge"), much like Aaravos ("he isn't doing anything out of love, he's doing it for revenge") — but that her general compassion and love for others has always been stronger than her grief or rage, and that even when she had every social and personal reason to, she was and is fundamentally unable to hurt someone innocent.

Even when she's shamed or punished for it by herself or by others. RAYLA: The human looked up at me, and I saw the fear in his eyes. RUNAAN: Of course he was afraid, but you a job to do! (1x01)

EZRAN: Yeah, but then you saw he was scared, and you knew he was a person, just like you. RAYLA: That shouldn't have mattered. I had a job to do. (1x08)

The Cosmic Council — and to a degree, the Silvergrove — say that the reasonings or motivations, the intentions, behind Leola and Rayla's actions do not and should not matter when it comes out to doling 'Justice'. So Leola faces her justice, being literally killed in the one manner that can kill a Startouch elf, and so does Rayla, being metaphorically Ghosted / 'murdered' by her community, regardless.

Neither are enough to ultimately quell their light or their love/power, however.

A Star

RAYLA: That beautiful shining star you just pointed out? We call it Leola's Last Wish. (5x02)

So both Leola and Rayla are stars in season 6, literally and metaphorically respectively. Leola's is more self-explanatory, whereas Rayla's is mostly about the role she has in Callum's life as a guiding light and star. I don't think it's a coincidence, though, that just as Rayla placed Callum on his path of being a primal mage, though, that Leola did the same for humanity. I also don't think it's a coincidence that Callum's love for Rayla restores Callum's own light and agency amid Leola giving humanity the same through light and fire.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted, and—though they looked to the stars for salvation—the stars, too, looked down upon them with disdain. Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. (TDP shorts, Ripples)

In this way, we see the manifestation of a repeating parallel of Rayla representing Leola, a gift giver of life, magic, light, unjustly punished/killed, and Callum representing humanity, looking to the kindest brightest star for guidance, magic, restoration, and salvation if he's just given the chance to grasp it. After all, presumably, Leola's last wish would have something to do with primal magic and humanity, and who represents that better than Callum, with two arcana under his belt and possibly more on the way? With that in mind, I want to return to another quote from earlier but with a different focus on

Ripples

Daughter of the Moon, yours is a wondrous heart. In a moment of mercy, you sent ripples out into the ocean of time. Ripples that have not yet stilled.

The wisest of the humans looked upon the water. His own reflection smiled back at him, and he dared to imagine what such power would feel like in his own hands, should he be allowed to hold it. Imagine, he thought, if I were more than what I am. With a trembling hand he touched the surface of the water. Ripples spread from his fingertips. [...] I hope the stars were watching. I hope they saw it: the moment their perfect reflections turned warped and ruined, churned to chaos by the touch of a single human hand. In this, the humans taught me another lesson. And so I touch the surface of the water. I watch the ripples spread.

Water in TDP is a strange beast, symbolically speaking. There are some more straight forward motifs (reflections, "don't try to control where the river [of life] goes, there's one thing you can know and control: yourself"). For Aaravos, it's connected to deep loss but also his own sense of patience in playing and winning his game, as illustrated above. For Rayla, it's linked to shame, self-reflection, bravery, and loss. Aaravos weeps and creates a sea upon losing Leola; Rayla says goodbye to her family by the lotus pond times three.

We don't know what water represents for Leola. Not distinctly, anyway. The best we can figure though, is that by following the through line of the Rayla and Leola parallels, that the ripples Leola wanted to send out or did send out — not the distortions caused by her father and his grief — are ones that Rayla received, and then continued.

Rayla has always been a foil to Aaravos, and this hasn't changed. She is the one who set Callum on the path initially of being a mage, which put him in Aaravos' machinations as prey; she retrieved his Key; and she's the reason Callum's done dark magic, twice. At the same time, much like the moon, Rayla carries Leola's light as much as she shoulders Aaravos' dark. She literally represents light in Callum's life, helps lead him through the darkness, and him being a primal mage and it's possible growth to other humans is the best possible thing that could've ever happened to Xadia.

Sol Regem says that "no one can save" Xadia or fix what is deeply broken. The Cosmic Council said that Leola had broken the Cosmic order and had to pay the price. Rayla has repeatedly been willing to pay the price for both hers and other's actions in hopes of making things right, of sparing others' pain. Sometimes to her detriment, but—if Rayla as Callum's one Truth could fix the darkness within him, if she's the lynchpin for breaking the Cycle, for bringing back Runaan and fixing her family's souls, in opposing and presenting mercy amid the Council's lack of mercy, in the face of Xadia's violence—

Then Rayla's act of mercy in 1x01, and potentially beyond in S7 with Callum, will be what fixes Xadia.

Leola's gift of magic is what 'broke' Xadia, and her execution is what literally did so, leading to the division of the continent. She wrongly paid the price in the absence of mercy and love. Rayla is therefore her thematic successor — welcomed this time as Light and Truth — as the carrier of Mercy and Love, and she will 'fix' Xadia through her ripples and dynamics. She will mend them back together. There will, at last, be no price to pay.

Misc. Thoughts / Predictions

One thing I was always curious about going forward into future seasons was the prospect of a 'trial' or reunification of the Silvergrove. It felt like a no-brainer the Silvergrove would have to change in order to reflect Runaan's character arc, much the way we see Katolis and the Sunfire elves change to better accommodate the new, more compassionate world order. Pre-S4 a trial felt a little strange as an idea, though post-S4 the parallels it could provide to the Lucia tribunal made more sense about why include either (or both).

However, Leola's trial seemed to hammer home the almost necessity (as this is still a prediction, after all, that may not happen) of Rayla and/or Runaan saying their peace to the Silvergrove leaders. This would be a great opportunity to provide a contrast to the Cosmic Council, reaffirming that Xadia is ultimately better than them because the Moonshadow elves and everyone else can change, and the Cosmic Council seemingly cannot or will not. But I guess we'll have to wait for S7 or beyond (#GiveUsTheSaga) to find out if this'll come to fruition or not.

I also wanted to touch on what we see with Leola ("I'm so scared!") and the repeated emphasis on "recognizing fear as a moment of empathy and personhood" and the horror that can come if you don't have that moment of recognition. This is something I've touched on before most notably as a striking difference between S1 Rayla and S5 Claudia, but I thought it was worth mentioning as S6 added to it specifically with Viren towards Soren and Lissa. This is another point in the "Rayla is an inversion of the Council's lack of mercy" column, as Leola's — a child's fear, and Aaravos willing to pay the price and take her place — earns her no mercy. Rayla, meanwhile, sees someone innocent that she has 'every right' to execute is afraid of her, and that strays her hand; it steadies her sword, and she spares him. Because if someone is afraid of you, it's worth asking yourself why, and what you might want to do instead.

Last but not least I wanted to talk about Leola's parallels to Callum and Ezran as well, since they are very much there (though yet not perhaps to the same extent).

Ezran has Leola's friendliness to animals and soft heart. He too is a child whose death is called for as a means of Justice, and he is granted mercy through Rayla and the discovery of the egg, able to live and grow and help usher in peace. He is, I think, what Leola might've been allowed to be if she'd lived in different times. Callum, meanwhile, carries the gift giving motif through his cube, staff, and tokens he both gives to (moon-phoenix bracelet) and receives (the moon opal necklace) from Rayla, and previous 'human-Leola' magic dynamic. Callum being able to break free fully from Aaravos' and dark magic's control in S7 and turn his eye instead to primal magic will be what helps bring true justice to Leola and hope for humanity / Xadia in righting the Cosmic Council's fundamental wrongdoing. Hopefully, anyway.

Conclusion

I hope you enjoyed this deep dive into some parallels and potential narrative goings-on between Leola and Rayla as characters. TDP loves its historical and ironic layers in TDP (Ez and the Orphan Queen, Viren's arc from S1 to S6) and I think this layered thematic dynamic between the two merciful young girls was a good, brilliant choice by the creative team. I'm excited to see where this thematic thread goes in the future and how it may continue to be woven into the story. As always, thank you for reading, and I'll see you in the next one.

[bakugoushotwife]

gym partners

a/n: this was a hot hot hot request! i hope you gojhoes love it as much as i do <3

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

cw: pining lol, pervy gojo, scheming gojo, blowjob, mentions of oral fem receiving.

wc: 4.3

He knew exactly what he was doing. Inviting you over to work out in his private home gym after hearing you complain about the facility you had been attending since graduation. Satoru Gojo wasn’t subtle in the slightest, you were convinced he didn’t know what that meant. He’s been shamelessly flirting with you since your first meeting all those years ago in the classrooms of Jujutsu Tech, and it seemed graduating from school wouldn’t stop him from trying to impress you out of your pants. Maybe it was because you were so nice to him, never faulting him for his arrogance or annoying tendencies. It didn’t hurt that you were ridiculously beautiful, and your techniques were truly awe-inspiring. Maybe it was because despite all this, you played hard to get with him for some reason. 

It was fate that made you both teachers at the same school you used to attend, for it gave him ample opportunity to pester you more. He  overheard you telling Shoko about the athletic facilities being inadequate and the amount of male attention that you earned. He wasn’t so fond of the latter statement, though he knew it to be true. You were a total smokeshow, any man would be winning the lottery to cart you around on his arm, the perfect duo of insane talent and looks. He almost thinks it’s unfair until he considers that he himself is also the same way, selfishly enough. Though ever since that day, he can’t help but let his brain go wild thinking of all the ways he could make you his in his home gym, if only you’d jump on the opportunity. 

Your relationship with Satoru was…complex at best. You had been friends and training partners since you met in your first year at Jujutsu Tech, seemingly the only person other than Suguru Geto who could not only withstand–but enjoy–his presence. And then Suguru was gone, so it left you as all he had. Boy was he determined to prove it, to keep you as his person for life. He was the closest thing to a friend you had, aside from Shoko now that you’ve started teaching. 

There was definitely something more to the connection, at least you thought. Banter was seamless, working together on missions only showed the sorcerer world the best team imaginable, and he tirelessly worked to spend more time with you. You were only apprehensive because of your own massive crush on him. It may seem counterintuitive, especially if you think he could like you too, but you kept convincing yourself that it was your own brain playing tricks on you, making you see more to the story when there really wasn’t. He was probably trying to be friendly with you, and as badly as you wished you could have that, you know you could never settle for it. You would always selfishly desire him in more ways, not that you’re the only one. You know every man, woman, and everyone in between or outside of those definitions did a double take anytime he walked by. Anyone who’s anyone wanted him, and you would never be able to blame them. So you shot him down at every invitation to spend time together one on one, avoiding him anytime you knew that you would be alone. 

So imagine your surprise when he knocks on the door of your classroom and slides inside before you can respond, just the two of you. Alone. With Satoru Gojo. You look up from your papers, your focused gaze meeting the familiar, friendly, and fiery blue gaze of the one and only strongest man alive, even with the blindfold obscuring your view of him. He grins, and you look back down at the stack of History of Jujutsu Technique assignments. He chuckles, pulling a wooden chair away from a desk and dragging it behind him as he struts to your table. The sounds of the wooden legs screech along the tile floor until you can detect his frame towering over your desk, feeling his snarky eyes burning holes into your head. 

“Miss Y/N! Long time no talk. If I didn’t know any better–” He says, the amusement in his voice evident as he spins the chair around to straddle, leaning his lanky arms over the back. His blindfold kept the emotion in his eyes guarded, but his smile was bright white–and clearly teasing you. “I would think that you were avoiding your dear old pal, Satoru!” 

You hum in fake confusion, looking up at him with a furrowed brow. “Avoiding you? Oh no, never. I’ve just been so busy lately. All these papers, decorating the apartment, I got a cat recently and I–”

“Started going to the gym, a little birdie named Shoko told me. She says you hate the one you go to, though. How unfortunate.” His features are as smug as ever, and you know instantly that Shoko didn’t tell him a thing. “I imagine she told me out of the kindness of her heart, for our dear friend knows that I happen to have a state of the art, top notch, extremely expensive, home gym!” 

You narrow your gaze up at him. You may not be able to see his eyes through the blindfold, but you knew that he could see yours. He could see everything about you, except for  emotions, thankfully. “Shoko did not tell you that I started working out.” 

“No, she didn’t!” He admits without shame, leaning forward on his propped up hand, his smile unfaltering. “I just happened to overhear, but the fact remains! I can help.” 

“I…work out pretty early, you know our schedule, I just don’t think I could impose.” You smile at him politely, shifting your weight in your seat. He was bringing you dangerously close to revealing the truth. You yearned for him so bad, he had to feel it. Knowing Satoru, you wouldn’t put that past him. An invitation to come to his home every day and work out was nearly too good to pass up, yet you knew that if you jumped at the chance, you wouldn’t be able to deny yourself from crossing other boundaries as well. 

He tilts his head at your reasoning, his jaw tightening and the corners of his mouth twitching. “So do I, like you said, Our schedule. Really, it’s no trouble! I’m sure you’d feel safer in my home, anyway. No pervs, except for me of course.” He chuckles so boisterously that you almost think he’s genuinely joking. You start to nervously chuckle with him when he leans his chest against the chair, his face sneaking closer to yours. “I’ll even get us breakfast on the way to school. C’mon, Y/N…that’s an offer too good to refuse.” 

So you don’t. You find yourself driving to Satoru’s ridiculously expensive penthouse in Tokyo on a Tuesday morning, in your best workout attire and a nervous fluttering heart. You had to admit yourself at the gate via pin, one that he bestowed upon you the other day in your classroom. The house sat atop a secluded hill, and even from the bottom of the driveway, you could see a bright light shining in these early hours of the morning. It seems that he wasn’t lying, he really did work out early. To most, it may seem a bit extraneous to work out on top of training and running missions alongside being a teacher, but it was something that cleared your head in the mornings and allowed you to take some peace in your day. Though it seemed that idea was far abandoned. You park your car and stare at the expensive home. You knew the Gojo heir was loaded, but you didn’t know it was to this extent. He told you to just come in when you arrived, so you did, even though the house was shrouded in darkness, you squinted to let your eyes adjust, gasping when the light is flicked on all of a sudden, revealing a shirtless and blindfold-less Satoru Gojo leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs. He was grinning, beefy arms folded across his well defined chest, all enticing your eyes to trail downward. You could only hope your eyes didn’t bulge from your head or that you were openly drooling at the sight of his carved out abdomen, easily sixteen indents rippling through his midsection. You had to shift your weight, thighs rubbing together without even a word. 

His grin grows and his eyes shine brightly, the chlorinated-pool gaze of his zeroing in on your skimpy little outfit. Your sports bra barely contained your chest, and by the way those yoga pants got sucked into your ass…you weren’t wearing any underwear. He licked his bottom lip, pointing behind him with his thumbs. “Good morning, Y/N! Gym’s this way, I’ve been waiting for you to get started.” 

“Good morning Satoru.” You gulp, approaching the staircase. You keep your eyes trained on the steps, unable to look at him for too long. He stifles his chuckle as you grow closer to him, his form partially blocking your way on the steps. He likes to make you nervous, so he doesn’t move out of your way. He stands his ground, humming excitedly when your bare skin brushes against his. 

“Oh Y/N~” He coos seductively, enjoying the blush that creeps up your neck and colors your ears. “Right this way. What type of workouts do you like? We can do anything! Yoga, weight training, cardio, you name it, sweet lady.” He says, the upbeat tone of his voice making you feel like he knew something that you didn’t. He shows you into the room that was already well lit. Your eyes do bulge from your head this time, his home gym was the size of your entire home. He snickers at your reaction, strolling ahead of you and sitting on a bench press chair. He holds his arms out, as if telling you to behold the beauty. “Welcome to the Gojo Dojo.” He jokes. 

You snort a little, nodding as you step into the room. “You know this is bigger than most people’s houses, right?” You ask indignantly, letting your bag fall from your shoulder and into the floor as you survey all the equipment, weights, and mats Satoru had at his disposal. 

He nods proudly. “It can’t be helped, really. I give to charities!” 

You giggle at his defense, shaking your head as you make your way over to a few stretching mats spread out for the two of you. He watches you of course, wondering if you were impressed by his facilities. He can’t help but admire your physique as you set your water bottle down. He hadn’t ever been so enamored before, not even when he really tried to be into other people just to stop thinking of you. You were perfect. Mind, body, and spirit. You really didn’t need to work out at all, and he certainly hoped you weren’t doing it to lose any weight…my god you were absolutely delici—

“Satoru? Did you hear me?” You ask, waving your hand in front of his face with a soft laugh.

He shakes his head. “No, I was fantasizing about how good you look.” He admits without shame, blinking his focus back to your looming frame in front of him. Even when he was sitting, you were only a few inches taller. He lets his eyes skirt over your frame, smirking without pause. 

Your cheeks heat up, and you’re sure you just didn’t hear him correctly. “R-right. I was thinking I’d do some stretches,then work my core. What are you gonna do?” 

He wants to say something else clever to fluster you further, but he decides to take the passive route. You should be able to feel how bad he wants you at this point, his incessant attempts to get you alone, the way he nags you at work and blows your phone up with memes and reddit posts he wanted your opinion on should all be enough aside from his very obvious flirting. Anyone else would have given up, taking you for not being interested, but Satoru knew you better than anyone. He knew that if you weren’t interested in him, you’d say so. You wouldn’t just widen your eyes and brush him off, you must think he’s joking.

Which is why he’s wanted to get you alone for so long. If only he had some one on one time with you, then he could be as bold and vulnerable as he may need to be to win you over. That would come later, for now, he had to let you complete your workout. He nods at your agenda, thinking of the next step in his own routine. 

“Chest. Watch and weep.” He winks, and you quickly turn your back to him to go to your mat. He was too much for you, as anticipated. You could feel your body warm, and you knew he would see it if you turned around. What made you think you could make it through a workout session with Satoru when you could hardly stomach him being in your classroom with no supervision? He just chuckles at you. Maybe his affection was just a bit overwhelming for you, you couldn’t discern if he was messing with you or not, and didn’t want to embarrass yourself in any event. He supposes he could understand, if only you weren’t so stupid. You were the only person he held on a pedestal, the fact that you couldn’t understand how much you meant to him at this point was bordering on clinical insanity. 

He stands up to put his weights on the barbell, not bothering to conceal his watching you. You could feel it, but you figured it would be more embarrassing to stop and confront him over it. So you just continue, folding in half at the hips to touch your toes. He sighs at the sight of your round ass, your poor excuse of a sports bra nearly betraying you here, your fat tits almost spilling out into the floor. He packs the 45 pound plates on, four on each side, clearing his throat loudly. He doesn’t miss the way your head snaps up, shyly averting your gaze once you realize he set a trap for you.

You lay on the mat, you start with some leg raises, tilting your head back far enough to watch Satoru lay back on the bench. He hums to himself, feeling along the bar for his best grip. Once he’s satisfied, he lifts the 405 pounds without any of the effort you’d expect to see from such a heavy weight. He hardly even grunts, though you notice the sweat start to bead on his forehead  as he sets into reps. You’re not sure when your legs fall down, but you can’t help but be mesmerized. The bright lights of the room make the layer of perspiration shine, his chest and abs glistening like he’d been coated in a layer of coconut oil. You bite your lip at the sight, trying to fight the naughty thoughts raiding your consciousness right now. He does eight, ten, twelve reps at that weight before he racks it again, grinning as he senses your eyes on him. He takes about thirty seconds as a little break, deciding to show off a little for you. He starts another set, maybe forcing a few grunts to elicit a soft gasp from you. He’s sure you think he can’t hear you, but he does. He even hears the shakiness of your breath, though he denies himself the simple pleasure of looking at you. 

You’re a mess, and it’s horrifically embarrassing. He hasn’t touched you, he’s hardly looked at you, and he hasn’t even done anything inherently erotic, but you can feel your slick sliding down your thighs as we speak, and your nipples are hardening under your bra, which of course doesn’t conceal a thing. You watch him lift without doing any exercise yourself, embarrassed by the way he works you up without doing a thing. 

“Impressed by this strength, little thing?” He sighs out in between reps, finally racking his weights and standing up to remove them. He smirks at you, trying to pretend like you’ve been doing bicycle kicks the whole time. You’re effortlessly seducing him, just by being here and wearing that. He feels like he’s trying so hard to get your attention. Maybe this is all for naught, he thinks, wiping his face off with the towel hanging around his neck. He hadn’t even planned to work out today, mostly just wanting to be with you in every form of the word. He sighs out when you just groan out an ‘mhm!’ in response. 

“Okay..well.” Satoru says, his voice still pitched to be cheerful but definitely not to the same excitement you were used to hearing. It makes you pick your head up to check what’s wrong, you’re just about to speak on it when the words die in your throat. He’s slid out of his shorts, just standing there in his Hollister underwear, the ones with the short inseams. They make everything about him look even bigger, his broad thighs and long toned legs, and of course, his massive bulge. You nearly moan just from the sight, he’s literally walking sex and rubbing it in your face. “Since you’re noticeably not impressed or into me, I’ll.. stop embarrassing myself and go get showered. I can still take you to school if you want–I owe you breakfast.” 

Your eyes widen. He’s gorgeous, you’re sure you could wash your laundry on his stomach, the light coating of sweat covering his muscles made your mouth water—and what did he mean about you not being impressed or into him? Has he really been flirting with you all this time, and meaning it? You sit up quickly. “Satoru–wait.” 

He stops, the panic in your voice makes hope bubble up in his gut again. He turns on his heels. “Yes, Miss Y/n?” 

Now that his eyes are back on yours, you don’t know how to say what you want to say. How could you possibly put into words how bad you’ve wanted him for years, how you’ve yearned to be more than just the passing and whimsical friendship that you have. How could you tell him that you’ve desired him in your bed since the moment you met him, though how profound was that? Most people did. “I–I’m…well, I just, have…had..” You fluster again, looking down at the yoga mat you’d been laying on. He folds his arms, grinning at your bashfulness. Your confession was coming, it was on the tip of your tongue, he could feel it. 

“You’ve what, baby doll? Been tirelessly in love with me for years? Dreamed of me every single night?” He chuckles at your expense, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall just like he was when you came in. 

So that confirms it. That’s exactly what he wants you to say, what he needs to hear from you. He loves you, wants you more than anything. All his elaborate schemes and shitty pick up lines have been for real, and you’ve neglected them for years. You still don’t know how to communicate this need, this carnal desire you have to be his woman. So you don’t. You huff in embarrassment at yourself, at your inability to ever come outright and say how you feel. It’s going to be the death of you here, the reason you lose the man of your dreams. 

No. No, you tell yourself. If Satoru can be so bold with his declarations of desire for you, then you would return the favor. From head to toe, your body erupts into flames and your body moves on its own. You get to your feet, eyes trained on Satoru’s puzzled blues. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth and shyly look away, sitting back on your knees once you stand a few inches away from him. You look up, blinking thick eyelashes up at him. Your hand reaches up for the waistband of his underwear. 

“I dunno how to say it. So let me show you.” You offer with a shaky breath, cupping the bulge that slowly grew before your eyes. 

It was his turn. His eyes widened in shock, though his hand found itself knitted in your hair immediately. The feeling of your soft and slender hand holding him over his underwear was only driving him crazier. He needed to have your touch, the real one. He nods, pulling your face a little closer. 

“By all means, darling girl. Show me.” His grin is growing closer to the devilish side. You lick your lips and nod again, tucking your dainty fingers under the waistband and tugging them down. You try to contain your excitement as his length slaps up into those gorgeously defined abs of his, but you can tell by the look on Satoru’s face that you fail. He chuckles, your eyes widening in anticipation and your thighs rubbing together like you’re trying to start a fire. 

He was gorgeous, down to every ridge and vein decorating his perfectly arched cock. You were salivating, he was trimmed immaculately, just some short white pubes there to focus on. You sigh, feeling the heat pool between your legs at the same time you lean and reach up to grasp him. He lets a choked gasp go just from your slender fingers wrapping around his base. He has to consciously think about making himself look down at you, not wanting to miss a second of your beautiful face taking him in. You pump him slowly a few times, still taking in his massive length and the pretty bead of precum gathering at his slit. 

“Don’t tease now, god knows you’ve been doing enough of that for six years now.” He groans, pushing his hips forward so that his pre was spread all along your lips. He giggles at the obscenity of it all, and the way your tongue darts out to lick it all up. Goosebumps prickle along his flesh as you bat your eyes up at him and guide his shaft into your waiting warm mouth. He gasps softly at the feeling of your wet walls swallowing him in, the shocking way you swallow him down your throat was enough to have him fighting the urge to cum down your throat already. You were the girl of his dreams, and he’s been having fantasies of you on your knees like this for years. He groans as you start to move, his back falling more flush against the doorframe. 

You moan at his taste, willing yourself to take him all at once. The weight of him on your tongue was comforting and satisfying, and looking up at the way his face contorts in pleasure, you wonder why you did delude yourself for so long. His fingers gently scratch at your scalp, urging you further down his length, his load rapidly approaching at your gags. 

You let go of his base, forcing him down your throat even though tears spring to your eyes from the action. You move your hands to his hips instead, deepthroating all he had to give you. “Such a nasty girl, swallowing all this dick so good.” 

You moan softly at his talk, actually swallowing around him and choking just a bit. He loves it, the sounds you make and the eager way you bob up and down. “Y/N–I’ll cum soon if you don’t stop.” He warns, though you don’t take it as a warning at all. In fact, you only take it as encouragement to keep going, to make up for all the years you could have had together if only you weren’t so scared. You increase your pace, not minding the ache in your jaw as his hands slide down to hold your face. His features are all worth it, his mouth parted in pleasure, eyes scrunched tight as he fucks his hips into your mouth, pubes rubbing against your chin. His load is huge like the rest of him, the hot liquid sliding down your windpipe. He leaves his dick in your mouth for a minute, still grappling with the aftershocks of his nut, realizing this wasn’t a realistic fantasy of his and you were actually on your knees, sucking him dry. He grins down at you, knowing that your lives together were forever changed. You’d have a while to sort that out, all he cared about now was returning the favor, making you feel as good as you just made him feel. His hands gently stroke your cheeks, and you slide off him with a pop, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Your eyes never left his, and he couldn’t tear himself away either. 

Your heart pounded in your ears, and you knew this meant big changes for your previously platonic relationship. “Pretty girl, god I’m so glad you did that…let me make you feel good too, please?” He asked, the whine at the end so desperate you could hardly believe Satoru Gojo was begging you to eat your pussy. 

“I–I’m sweaty, it’s not as bad for dick..” You giggle shyly, unable to look at him and say such a thing. 

“I have a shower. C’mon. We have time.” He wiggles his brows, stepping out of his underwear entirely. His hands pull you back to your feet, keeping his hold on you as he directs you to the shower.

[creatingblackcharacters]

hey I'm curious, what are your thoughts on the term African-American as a synonym for Black people? as someone who is North African, I find it annoying cause like it makes people think everyone in Africa is Black and they start doubting me when I tell them I'm African which is really irking so I want to hear your thoughts on it since I don't think I should have much of a say in this

Okay, so this isn't a Black character design question per se, but I'll play ball. *Political hat on*

The short, easy answer: many people are just incorrect.

The longer, more social answer:

It's not a synonym for Black people, never has been. I have a whole lesson that mentions this lol. While there are definitely Black North Africans, no, not everybody in North Africa, or Africa even, is Black or identifies as such.

The reason (usually white) Americans use African-American as a synonym is because people are afraid of saying "Black". Tbh, it's also why people get offended when you point out that they're white! It points out a power structure we're not supposed to talk about.

Race is seen as an uncomfortable, taboo topic. By bringing it up, you disturb the status quo that rests on the existence of these concepts. It's why people call bringing up racism "infighting", because pointing out the racism causes more friction than the racism itself (due to privilege via the white supremacist concept of right to comfort). If you point out someone's race, you acknowledge that you see it, and that means potentially acknowledging everything that comes with (and that's an interaction many want to avoid!)

Blackness has historically been associated with inferiority, laziness, violence, inhumanity. None of those things are true, but for so long that was such a commonly held, overt belief that people who go "oh I'm not racist, I don't want you to think I'm judging you off your color" have still attached the negativity to it. But... Blackness is not bad. There's nothing wrong with being Black. You can say Black, it's fine, it's YOU (general) that needs to work on breaking the negative association.

(And if you feel like what you're about to say is bad while saying Black, then you need to question the content of your statement, not my Blackness!)

Meanwhile, African-American "feels safer", "less offensive". What do they call it... A euphemism? It allows a connection- "oh see we're both American!" even though we know full well that you and I do not have the same experience nor history on this ground. It allows for a quiet shut down of the "but you see how we are different" conversation. It's also why many antiblack racists on here will use "Americans" when they want to say "Black people"- it cushions the racism.

It's like how people think "fat" is a bad word. It's not. People be fat lmao. It's the negative societal connotations that came along with, and it's something that needs to be broken.

I feel like I spoke in circles but- do you understand what I'm saying?