#and there was this one person defending the show and the admins were going against them full force

[cooltuna69]

Rant in tags

[cheemscakecat]

Dream thing Emesis Blue

So you know how you have dreams, and someone that isn’t your mom or dad is called that and you go along with it? Because you aren’t awake? There’s situations where dream logic sounds right to your sleeping brain, and when you wake up you realize it doesn’t make sense.

The hand that drops Ma’s head could be a gloveless Medic.

The fingertips we see look grey like when Scout and Medic were in the ambulance. Except there’s one thing wrong with that theory.

Ma’s face is noticeably warmer toned than the fingers, next to the same unseen light.

But you know whose gloves have grey fingertips?

Still, that doesn’t explain why Scout is afraid of Medic/ seeing him as a monster when he’s rescued at the slaughterhouse.

So there’s one of two ways that could happen if Emesis Blue is a dream:

Scout cut away to being locked in the coffin and “knew” it was Medic’s fault. The way dreams suddenly take you into a new scene or change the plot, but you don’t notice since you’re asleep. The problem is we can’t discount this theory since we have a big gap in Scout’s perspective.

Maybe it was an Engineer holding Ma’s head, but he saw “Medic” hunched over her body, like Ludwig did in his time loop.

But if it’s option two, there’s a secondary possibility. Look at how RED this scene is. Red enough that if this is the enemy Medic, you wouldn’t be able to tell. And what happened on BLU team that would warrant RED Medic showing up?

In addition to that, RED Medic joined Team Classic, which was hunting down the Admin’s mercenaries.

If BLU team’s been in hiding for 6 months, and Scout’s the youngest on the team trying to protect his Ma, his fear of getting found would still linger after the comic 7 resolution.

It was never actually BLU Medic that cut off Ma’s head; it was nightmare RED Medic. BLU is hallucinating his future car crash self like he hallucinated the plague doctor and being locked in a coffin. Scout didn’t realize he was accusing the wrong guy, since he was dreaming.

Decapitating someone unarmed and pulling out Scout’s teeth are both actions you’d expect from RED Medic if you were an enemy teammate hearing rumors about his crazy experiments.

Here’s the painful part:

If my shared nightmare theory is right, Scout’s going to wake up, check on Ma, calm down, and realize that he had the wrong Medic. And probably have a nasty gut feeling that he shouldn’t have accused the doctor, even if it was in a dream.

But Dr. Ludwig? The guy having a nightmare about his mental illness forcing him to hurt people out of spite? He’s going to think one of his personalities killed BLU Ma and kidnapped Scout. And that’s going to aggravate his already fearful and distrustful attitude towards them.

Electric Eye Medic immediately went to take the sentry gun to defend Ludwig and Scout when he got control of the body. And when he saw that he was too late to save Scout, he went into a revengeful rage and killed both Engineers. Maybe Scout doesn’t know it, but he’s met this personality before, and he sees the kid as a friend too.

That’s why I’m convinced he switched to being in control, stabbed Hoovy in the eye, and was the one crying in the elevator. Maybe he was already grieving internally, but had to take control again and Soldier/Demo saw the butt end of him crying, just when he decided to get more revenge.

The laugh/face of a man who’d burn that stupid briefcase in front of the whole cult if he could.

Funeral Medic’s hand was shaking from rage after he shot Spy. He probably witnessed Electric Eye crying and trying to explain how he failed to save Scout. Maybe it was the reason he waited for Spy to finish his speech; he was gonna shoot him anyway, but wanted that bozo to think he was safe and had gotten away with his lies.

That being said, I doubt that Medic’s other personalities are going to hold it against him if he accuses them of stuff they didn’t do. Definitely going to be upset, but at the same time they’d know he’s only saying it because he doesn’t know their intentions, and he’s equally disturbed and angry over what happened.

[swords-of-a-soilder]

I don't intent to go to war with anyone, but aweariness and I don't like being perspectived as a lair, in the end y'all can choose if I'm lying or not.

I will say this person was responding to my comments at the time so I genuinely believe they saw they were being called out and went and changed it

I know no one will be believe me on this because I was stupid enough not to take a screenshot but the person who made the original rumor has now changed it to the qsmp.co website.

Yes forever isn't listed as a member in the QSMP.co website

However that website isn't listed as a wiki, nor treated like one, it doesn't provide lore on the characters in fact for lore it tells you to go to their YouTube channel.

Clicking on forever if he was still on the QSMP.co site would take you to his twitch and twitter and given his last streams and current twitter fall out I wouldn't want anyone stumbling on that and getting a bad impression on my account so I understand it..

Is this an indication that QSMP admins are not on his side? Well I'd say it's as much an indicator as creators unfollowing him; so make that decision for yourself, I won't sway your judgment.

However one thing matters that's not what the post originally said, I'm all for changing your post as more information comes out but I feel this was done intentionally to cover up an attempt to spread misinformation Because of this comment.

yes I censored to protect their identity, but I do have uncensored version if push comes to shove.

This is not what that person said, firstly the person who "defend" him claims to be a data scientist, who made an short easy about the matter.

They do not defend forever, quite frankly they don't talk highly of him at all, they simply say the issues isn't pedophile but a much bigger problem

Here is the thread, I recommend reading the whole thing no matter how tempting it is to stop the minute it goes against you belief.

Funny enough this user did not link to the thread and only showed the first page screenshot, then took it out of context.

Despite saying there's a link for whoever wants it there is no link just a TLDR that HEAVILY mischaractizes Ms Lopes statements in what I assume to be an attempt to decredit her and make forever look a lot worst.

Is this thread PR? probably!

is it saying forever isn't a pedophile because woman mature faster than men? No

Stay informed this will probably change too at the rate they're going so I have a recording of it just in case, but I can't excalty censored that so that's a last ditch restore.

Since I'm making more post Sooner than expected today here is a collection of the argument on the other side of twitter, name and username censored because I don't trust you guys that much, but I have uncensored version if push comes to shove.

You don't have to take Google's translation at face value that's why I left the portuguese version.

The lighter censored is to indicate multiple people having a conversation.

Bonus: do not be fooled some people are heavily upset by the thread and some even took to insulting the data scientist personal as well as forever.

Thankfully people below that have told them not to attack the scientist just doing their job.

This is likely the last post I'll be making today no matter what anyone throws at me about this matter, please not I will now be deleting ask to avoid them taking up space in the situation tag.

Remember to take breaks, don't make the issues your entire life, take part in a hobbie watch a comfort show, eat your favorite foods.

Enjoy life 💕

[youllallriseintheink]

The Infiltrator, chapter 3: The Grand Tour

N’s flight back to the island gave him some time to assess what he’d discovered.

First, Iris hadn’t been lying. There truly was a multiverse, and there were many implications to that. The most obvious was that Ghetsis really could be one of the admins. But it also implied that that wasn’t the disaster N had envisioned. Ghetsis wouldn’t realize that N was a spy just because he recognized him if he could as easily be here because he was from a universe he’d had no choice but to leave.

Aside from that, N had learned a pitifully small amount. He’d learned that Giovanni had the ability to travel the multiverse, and that he had enemies in the international police, but that was it. He still didn’t know what Giovanni had been doing since the attempted takeover or why he wanted to invade Unova, let alone anything that would help him defend against the invasion. For the next admin, he would have to keep a cooler head.

Braviary landed before the castle, and N returned it before entering the building. Not knowing where to find the next admin, N wandered the halls until he found himself before a door whose label read, “Admin Maxie, head of administration.”

N knocked on the door, which was promptly opened by the man N had seen opposing Archie. He was short, slim and dressed like a professor with an excessive dedication to the colour red. The only other colour on his outfit was from his black, technologically-enhanced glasses.

“Can I help you?” Maxie asked, his voice tinged with annoyance.

“Yes. Today is my first day here and since Giovanni isn’t around, I was hoping that you could show me around and give me a sense of my duties. My name is N. Giovanni pulled me out of a universe where I won and dropped me off here last night.”

Maxie sighed and rubbed his temples. “Great. Another carefully selected villain from the multiverse. I’m sure that Giovanni has plans on making you the head of another branch for me to manage. But that isn’t your fault. Come on in.”

Maxie led N into a beautiful and well-organized office. N spotted an orb, like Archie’s but red, sitting at the corner of Maxie’s desk alongside a desk lamp and some decorative rocks. From that, N could surmise that Maxie’s story was likely similar to Archie’s. He promised himself that he wouldn’t be distracted by memories of how Maxie got here once he was in Maxie’s head.

Maxie took a file folder labelled “employee documentation” out of his desk, opened it, and got a quizzical look on his face.

“I won’t be in there,” N explained. “I filled out the paperwork with Giovanni, but I think it’s still with him.”

Maxie closed the file. “That would explain it. It seems as though Giovanni was been getting careless as of late. Well, do you at least know what department you’re looking for?”

N thought quick. “I’m a go-fer. I need to know where all the admins work and what they do.”

“Sure. Follow me.”

Maxie led N out into the hallway. “The thing with Team Rainbow Rocket is that the left hand isn’t allowed to know what the right hand is doing. Archie works defence and I manage everyone, but we haven’t earned the privilege of knowing Giovanni’s plan yet. Only Cyrus, Ghetsis and Lysandre do, and only because it’s essential to their jobs.”

“Why do you follow him if you don’t know his plans?”

“Why do you?”

“My plans ruined my universe. I just need a place to stay for a while. I’ll leave if he’s planning something bad.”

Maxie stifled a laugh. “I didn’t think I’d meet another person naive enough to think Giovanni, a renowned crime lord, is up to anything good. And you think he’ll let you leave easily to boot.”

N stayed quiet. It seemed like the best thing to do.

Maxie led N to a wing of the building labeled “Stage 1 department.” The halls were white and, through any doors that were left open, N saw people, wearing lab coats over their grunt uniforms, handling strange and alienlike Pokémon with unidentifiable equipment.

“This is where Cyrus and his team work. He’s in charge of phase one of the plan: capturing and utilizing legendary Pokémon. We also have a few engineers dedicated to the creation of weaponry, but most of our military tools will come from Team Rocket proper. The public thinks they’re doing benign research on the Ultra Beasts, but would I assume it’s anything but benign.”

N caught sight of a small Pokémon that looked to be made of paper, floating in a sealed vat of viscous green liquid. Its paper body was torn up and and delicate from exposure to liquid, and N wondered if it was still alive. He hoped he’d have a chance to help the Pokémon here, but for now he had to keep up with Maxie and keep his eye on the prize.

Maxie’s tour continued, taking them to a padlocked door on the first floor that led to a long flight of stairs and then to a dark, narrow basement hall lined with doors. N tried to start down the stairs, but Maxie stopped him.

“Don’t. Ghetsis doesn’t like anyone going down there unless he’s invited them himself.” Maxie sounded serious and almost nervous. It wasn’t the same businesslike tone he’d used in Cyrus’ lab. “He’s in charge of phase two: using military power to take control over the world. I don’t know what goes on in there, and frankly I don’t want to. Most of the weapons we receive go straight to him, along with stolen Pokémon and some Ultra Beasts from the lab. He’ll take his deliveries at the door. Just knock. He has good ears.”

N nodded.

Maxie smiled. “Now, should we head on to more cheerful things?”

“Sure.”

Maxie led N to a nicely decorated set of conference rooms on the second floor, all notably lackingpeople, and at the end of it was the door to Lysandre’s office.

“Alright, last stop. This is where Lysandre works. He’s in charge of phase three: establishing the world’s new order once we have the power to do so. It’s a small department. Lysandre only trusts the ultra-rich to plan the new world order to his standards, so most of his meetings are via video conferencing. If you have to talk to him, I suggest playing up the fact that you’re a king. Now, is that everything you need?”

“Well, actually there’s one more thing,” N brought out the espeon. “Giovanni wants me to do loyalty tests on all the admins. Touch Espeon, and I’ll be able to see if you’re loyal or not. It’ll just take a few minutes.”

Maxie looked N straight in the eye. “Do you have documentation of that?”

“Documentation? Of what?”

“Giovanni wouldn’t give an order like this without a signed document stating as such, especially to someone who just showed up. Anything else would just be inviting a spy to take information from our minds. I’m not taking the loyalty test unless you show me the documentation.”

“I left it in my room. Give me a minute.”

“I’ll be in my office.”

Thankfully, N had been led past Iris’ office during the tour, and Iris was able to provide a printed document with a convincing forged signature. It wasn’t a perfect copy of Giovanni’s handwriting, but apparently it was good enough for Maxie to willingly touch the espeon.

[thetruthaboutnolan]

HAVE THERE BEEN ANY NEW DRAMAS?

Nope, I haven’t been in a drama for over eight years now. Some might include what happened 4 years ago when two people decided to try and go hard against me when I’m opened my supernatural group. I wouldn’t since nothing actually came. They just got mad that I was messaging people that either asked to be messaged or their friends told me to message them and see about joining it. Even the group I was on before opening had no drama on it from me, they just didn’t like after their friends attacked me I mentioned how cliquey and disorganized that group was with ever changing lore.

Since then though not even so much as an annoyance from anyone. I’ve been in many groups since 2020, started 3 still running 2 and have been added as staff on two other sites I was a member of. Nothing at all has stirred up outside of heated debates on FNAF lore with a few people here and there.

WHY DO THE KARENS BRING UP TEN YEAR OLD STUFF AS A ‘GOTCHA’ FOR TODAY?

Because that’s really all they got. There has been no new happenings or dramas since I wanna say that shit group Hollow Grove. The fact a lot of them still think I religiously use that guy from the vampire diaries who hasn’t been in any projects for 8 years now and was my ‘mascot’ face claim like 6 face claims ago. That convinced me of that. These people only tune in when my alias comes up with drama attached, any other time they just fuck off and ignore it or just don’t pay attention. Out of it the only have the drama from ATL, WOTNA, and with Raven to pull from. So now they gotta make up that I’m this or that person since their normal ist that and phobe this nonsense doesn’t work anymore since they got no proof of any of it.

It’s just sad and pathetic really. Entertaining a bit especially since I can just pull up screenshots of people admitting to lying, not ever actually saying blah blah, or pinning things on me back then because they were immature and had a hate boner for me at the time. Even now as I type about it today. Many of them have told me it’s ok if I do as they have matured and haven’t been like that or seen those events the same way they did back then for years now. Others say it’s ok since they changed their aliases anyway so it doesn’t matter what ‘that person’ (their old alias) did.

HOW DO THESE OTHERS FEEL BEING TALKED ABOUT AGAIN?

For like 99% of them they don’t care at least the ones I speak to or can reach out to. I know and they admitted that the things that happened I’m taking the heat for, I will always take the heat for even when it was their own actions that caused a lot of the issues and my ignoring them or defending myself may have been justified. Many of them have told me they have received just as many ‘so sorry this is coming up again’ messages as ‘is this what really happened?’ Messages.

No one likes bring up old shit that happened a near decade ago and has no effect on who they are today or how they interact with others and regret choices they made back then. But most of them are happy to either finally admit to it or just say they moved on, forgiveness and understandings were had, and don’t really care about the past.

The only two exceptions are Lianne and G. Lianne is still in the belief she did nothing wrong, I trolled and attacked her, blah blah blah. Even the other people of WOTNA make it clear that she’s seen all the evidence other wise and no one else believes that anymore. She’s just dead set on believing it as if she doesn’t then she has to admit her horrible acts were just because she was a horrible person back then.

G wants no part of it anymore. He admits complaining to Admin M and not talking to me was wrong, that letting her spread her version of what he told her was wrong, and that his abusive actions against me were wrong. But that it was almost 9 years ago now (he recently showed me his old blog that has how many years ago our posts were) he’s different and all that ‘silly stuff’ just needs to be let go of already. Apparently I’m the only person he still talks to from back then as according to him, I’m the only one that wasn’t toxic or obsessed with just ‘screwing each others brains out all day’ he also doesn’t mind me bringing him up as he again has zero intention of returning to tumblr and believes himself to have a possible addiction to roleplay as his drive to post paragraphs within minutes of getting a reply goes on for literally all day everyday. He’s given me permission to post bits of our conversations and tends to post with me on discord where I tell him it’s ok to have me wait, I’m on enough groups and have an indie that men, women and non binary people keep me busy most of the time I’m online.

[sincerely-krp]

thank you admins. jesus christ. it’s one thing to have opinions about specifics but it’s another to gloss over and try to drown out what the (excuse my language) fuck i actually read. it’s interesting that so many asks are being posted… none countering the claims with any substantial or equal proof.

given the situation, i have been on all of these blogs. eden, her friends, karma, etc propogate the drama by pointedly continuing to engage and allegedly belittling other rps. if the people being pressed are victims of bullying, misogyny, racism, etc… it’s very valid they continue to speak. the double standard is when it’s okay for one group to post screenshots but problematic when another group does, etc. i will lightly touch on the topics below.

the incident with verona… that was a public ooc group, and no amount of generalization or whatever bs people are trying to defend that with work. substitute brown men for black men and you’ll see what i mean. as a brown woman my heart is breaking for that mun. eden, how could you even say that to her? verona is not in the wrong for calling out the racism in that chat. it is a PUBLIC chat. it is for everyone. continuing on it’s interesting to me that there is such a low tolerance for statements made against you (a 34 page canva doc vs a 23 page google doc: one is scary and doxxing and blown out of proportion but the second is impartial and applauded). personally, there’s no way to look at the proof, the full unedited comments, and take this another way.

what worries me more is the continuing rhetoric on this blog. i genuinely feel, based on the rate and speed of the asks, that the same people are going back and forth and inflating the actual opinions, because there is not one person outside of eden’s circle that thinks this way. this is NOT baseless accusation, i am NOT saying every anon is eden or emrys, but i fail to see how at first glance, people would only focus on that and not bring up now eden never took accountability for the screenshots, didn’t offer a SINGLE apology to verona for how she handled the situation (feeling strongly against verona’s viewpoint is one thing but questioning her gender? putting words into her mouth? not all men vs verona’s actual point?).

there is not a SINGLE mention of emrys’s absolutely horrible attitude toward kafka, requiring kafka and the others to somehow know emrys is a grad student and that they should make rearrangements for their schedule. kafka rightly called emrys out, and emrys continued with an even more disgusting response. verona was kicked for her post, and you expect me to believe if emrys wasn’t the admin, the admins wouldn’t kick him out?

eden, your response places yourself as a victim yet again. there’s no proof in your words. i don’t believe it.

as for commissions, you must not have read what i did, because op was very clear: this might be one of the reasons why they were so entitled, stating things like being an admin is a thankless job- when it really isn’t a job at all.

the most horrible thing by far was what they did at insidious. there is no world where it is okay to abuse terms like intellectual property- right now there is a creatice strike and ip is all the talk for how important it is! it is one thing to ask members to change their bios when going to another rp, but to force it? insidious’s blog is still up, everything is from tv shows mainly. all of these species are generic species, the location is a real world location, it’s silly to assume that you can control what others write. that is an incredible amount of entitlement.

i am appalled by the willingness of this community to overlook the actual issues presented. if eden or her paradigm team are willing to actually DISCUSS and either APOLOGIZE or PRESENT MORE INFORMATION on the issues, nothing matters, and the opinion had of them is more or less proven to be correct.

・❥・

[seijorhi]

To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear. 

But that was the world he came from. Violence and ruthlessness, cruelty masquerading as kindness.

By all accounts, someone like you – a lowly admin assistant living a very boring, mundane life – should never have crossed paths with a man like Getou. The irony, of course, being that it was precisely because of your job that he’d been drawn to you in the first place. 

“I-I said no,” you stammer. “I’m not doing it.”

Getou sighs, long, pale fingers idly fixing the cuff of his left sleeve. “I had no idea the lives of your loved ones meant so little to you.”  

“Please, I-” you break off, biting your lip as your hands curl into useless fists at your side, “I can’t. Anything else, I’ll do anything, I swear it, just… please.”

Men like Getou aren’t the type to be swayed by pretty words or tearful pleas, but there’s an unmistakable glimmer of interest that flickers in his eyes at the offer. Casually, he leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and regarding you with a smirk. “So you’ll bring me the list of witnesses then?”

The barely audible hitch in your breath is enough to make him chuckle.

“No? How about those surveillance tapes, hm?” Smoothly, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards you. “Careful, little one, first rule of negotiation is knowing when you have something to bargain with. Don’t promise me what you can’t give.”

“Getou–”

He raises a hand and you quickly fall silent. There’s only inches between you two now, Getou’s taller, broader frame looming over yours. He could kill you like this, you realise with panic – reach out and wrap his hands around your throat and snap your pretty little neck before you could so much as scream. The tailored line of his jacket hides the gun he has holstered at his side, but Getou knows you're aware of its presence, have been since the very first time he’d broken into your home and threatened you. 

It’d take him only moments to draw the sidearm, even less for him to pull the trigger.

The walls of your apartment are thin, would your neighbours come if they heard gunfire? Would you, for that matter, if your roles were reversed?

Yet Getou makes no move for his gun, instead reaching for your chin, tilting it up with two curled fingers until you meet his gaze, “You understand, don’t you, that I make one phone call and that charming sister of yours and her fiance meet a very tragic, very untimely end?”

He pauses, waiting until you jerk a quick nod of assent before continuing. “You love them. There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with prioritising the ones you love over everybody else.” His voice is gentle, but the words make you shake, dread rising from the pit of your stomach as the pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip. 

You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something to that, but even as you try, you can’t summon the words. The by now familiar scent of his cologne tickles your nose and invades your throat, the warmth of his touch burning through your veins. Your own heart hammers like a drumbeat in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger, but you don’t run, you don’t even flinch.

Getou smiles kindly, and perhaps if you hadn’t seen first hand the aftermath of his handiwork you might be tempted to believe it. His spare hand reaches into his jacket, but instead of the gun you’re expecting, he pulls out his phone, the screen flickering to life with a swipe of his finger. “So tell me, before I make a call you and I both know you don’t want me to make, why you’ve suddenly decided that their lives aren’t worth your compliance?”

Nanami. Your boss’s face flashes to your mind, the odd, fleeting glances he’d sent your way over the past few weeks when he’d thought you weren’t paying attention. Your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks unwittingly warming, but you just shake your head, “If I give you those files, you’ll kill them. You’ll hurt them.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not. It’s no less than those monkeys deserve, don’t you think?” He spits the word like it’s venom, the twitch in his jaw the only chink in his otherwise effortless composure. “You’re protecting them, even now.”

You make no attempt to defend yourself, terrified of saying the wrong thing and setting him off, but Getou seems entirely unfazed, laughing coldly at your stricken expression.

“Your boss, the one with the perpetual stick up his ass; Nanami,” potent disdain drips from his tone at the name, “Always so morally righteous, sitting up on his high horse. You think he cares for you, that he’ll protect you when all of this comes out? And it will come out eventually,” he says, his smirk widening at the sudden pallor in your face. “At some point there’ll be one too many unfortunate coincidences, and the higher ups will realise that they have a mole in their ranks. Fingers will be pointed of course, but eventually even those idiots will figure it out.”

A knot tightens inside of your chest at his words, constricting until it feels like you can’t breathe. You’re shaking your head, eyes filling with tears, “N-no–”

“Oh, little one,” Getou murmurs, dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your distress. “Surely you realised that they have security cameras covering every inch of your floor? There was no reason to look before, but once they do…” he trails off, letting go of your chin in favour of brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “They’ll throw you to the wolves.”

His voice is soft and cruel, belied by the gentleness of his touch, but it does nothing to quell the rising sense of dread inside of you. You want to believe it’s a lie, another threat meant to scare you into submission, but some deeper part of you recognises the truth in his words. 

Nanami, who’d told you once that there was innocence and there was guilt and very little in between. Nanami, whose office you’d bugged, whose trial only weeks ago you’d all but derailed with a few misplaced documents. You think back to the late nights shared in his office, bowls of ramen and case files scattered across the desk between you. You think of the rare smiles, his oddly dry sense of humour, the pleasant fluttering in your heart–

“You’ll rot in prison long before I do, and there is not a soul among that insipid bunch that would lift a finger to stop that from happening to you.” 

A soft, strangled noise leaves your lips as you fight not to sob, and Getou sighs, the corners of his lips twitching downwards in contrived sympathy. “Say the word and I’ll walk away tonight. I’ll still have to kill your sister – I am a man of my word, you understand – but I promise it’ll be the last you see of me.”

He slides his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, taking your face in both of his hands as tears spill down long lashes. “And when they come for you, you can tell them I threatened you, show them what little proof you have – if you have any at all. Maybe it’ll even make a difference,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Every word is like a knife, slicing away at the raw, bleeding, vulnerable parts of you.

“Please…” It’s weak and desperate, your voice cracked and broken. You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore; your sister’s life, for Getou’s mercy, or maybe just for him to stop saying such awful things. He must take pity on you though, because he sighs once more, his right thumb sweeping across your wet cheek to brush away silvery tear tracks. 

“I’m not a complete monster, you know. I protect what’s mine.”

And in one breath, everything screeches to a standstill and a trickle of very real fear creeps down your spine. There’s no mistaking his implication, not when he’s holding your face like that, his eyes dark and simmering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“W-what?”

Getou closes the gap between you two, a startled noise leaving your lips as his hips press flush up against you. “Don’t play stupid, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a warning, “It doesn’t suit you.”

One hand slips to your neck, the other curling almost possessively around your waist. There’s no room for you to move, to back away or free yourself. For a moment, neither of you speak, the heavy silence deafening between you.

Does he notice the way your pulse races under his fingertips as they circle your throat, how you’re shaking like a leaf beneath him? Does he want you afraid? A scared little bunny rabbit cowering from the gaping maw of the big, bad wolf? 

Judging from the bulge of his semi-hard cock pressing into the soft flesh of your belly, he’s not entirely unaffected, and for the first time it’s not Getou’s gun or his threats that you’re most afraid of. 

It’s the selfish, twisted want that glitters and glints in those pitiless depths. You’ve never felt so entirely at somebody else’s mercy as you do with Getou now, staring you down like he wants to lay you bare, claim you again and again for all the world to see. And you don’t understand. There’s a thousand and one questions running through your mind, your insides twisted up into knots. 

You know what it is he’s asking of you – though asking feels like a generous word when he can so easily just take – but none of this makes sense, not when he was threatening your family’s lives only minutes ago. 

As if he can sense the turmoil and confusion raging through you, he leans down, his lips ghosting over the outer shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I am a man of my word. 

His earlier statement rings through your head as you search his face for any sign of deception – you find none. But walking away means your sister dies. It means you’re left on your own to fend off the wolves when they find out what you’ve done.

Nanami might believe you. He might even defend you, but you’ve worked in the Prosecutor’s office long enough to know that duress isn’t the bulletproof defence people think it is, and for tangling with the likes of him…

You were screwed the moment he showed up in your living room, this- this is just the coup de grâce. The final damnation.

“Why me?” 

Getou doesn’t answer, but when he draws you into a kiss, his lips moving torturously slow against yours, there’s an edge of… something there, lying hidden just beneath the surface. And it terrifies you, more than his words and his promises ever could.

But when your back’s to the wall, what choice do you really have?

It feels like defeat when he takes you by the hand and leads you into your bedroom, ignoring the uncertain glance you cast over your shoulder towards the living room. You don’t want any of this, but you can pretend that it’s just… business if he fucks you out there.

Not in the bed you sleep in.

It’d be easier, you think, if it was cold and impersonal. If you cried and it stung and the only sounds in the room were flesh hitting flesh, ragged breathing and an occasional rough grunt.

There’s nothing impersonal about the way he watches you strip out of your clothes at his command. His own join yours on the floor without much ceremony – his gun pointedly set just within reach atop your nightstand.

The first time you’d laid eyes on Getou Suguru, it was two months into your new job; a photograph pinned to a thick, heavy file Nanami had dropped on your desk. A surveillance picture, you’d gathered, snapped as the man was exiting some neon lit club downtown. And you remembered the smug smirk he’d had, staring directly down the lens of the camera like it was a challenge, but that wasn’t what had struck you most.

It was the flutter of interest that’d shot through your veins the moment before common sense kicked in. Tall and fit, with long, dark hair swept up in the wind, a sharp jaw and a handsome face, you remember thinking he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Now, standing naked before you, bright, colourful tattoos inked across his torso, accentuating the muscles that rise and fall with every measured breath, you can’t bear to look. It’s easier just to stare at the wooden floorboards, the corner of the shagged rug you’d bought at a thrift store when you first moved in. Easier to pretend Getou isn’t pulling you closer once more, pressing searing, open mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring words that are lost to you entirely as his hands wander. You can feel it now, the heat of his body as he cages you in, his cock, thick and heavy and flushed nudging insistently up against your stomach.

You expect him to shove you to your knees, to force his cock down your throat in some archaic show of dominance before he claims your cunt, but he doesn’t. 

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth catching lightly on the sensitive lobe as you shiver. “Like you do when I’m not here, those pretty legs spread, fucking yourself on your fingers…”

The comment feels too familiar to be entirely offhanded, striking a chord of panic somewhere deep inside of you–

But it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter now.

You allow him to kiss you again before climbing onto the mattress. Like a good girl, you fall back onto the pillows, let your legs ease apart, wrapping your lips around two fingers and sucking for a brief moment before gliding your hand down between your thighs. 

His breath hitches, a soft curse sounding when saliva slicked digits spread your folds, the tip of your middle finger brushing lightly against your clit as you stroke your pussy. Your nipples harden and peak under the cool night air and you use your free hand to palm at your breast, pinching and teasing at the sensitive bud while one finger slips into the warmth of your cunt. 

The mattress dips, Getou climbing onto the bed, settling himself back on his knees, your spread legs either side of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. 

Your heart stutters, movements jerking as you brace for him to interfere, to touch you, but aside from nudging your thighs further apart to get a better view of your glistening cunt, he seems content simply to sit back and watch, his own hand lazily stroking at his cock.

Trying in vain to block him out, you squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the way your fingers feel between your legs, the pleasure–

 (Not the shame, don’t think about that, don’t think about Getou watching you debase yourself for his enjoyment)

–that pools in your core as you rub the shining pearl of your clit. It’s a familiar dance, a routine you’d normally help along with a glass of wine and a few faithful toys, but you don’t exactly have that luxury here.

And even with the rigid tension in your shoulders, the unwanted presence of a man you’re terrified of impossible to ignore, you can’t help the quiet moan that slips past your lips, the way your hips stutter, grinding against the heel of your palm as your fingers hit that sweet, delightful spot inside of you. 

Getou tenses at the sound, the last, fragile thread of his composure snapping–

He strikes fast. One moment you’re biting down on your bottom lip, your index and middle fingers knuckle deep in your dripping pussy, the next he’s braced atop you, one hand locked around your wrist, the other propping himself up. And as your eyes fly open with a startled cry, his lips crash against your once more – desperate and ravenous, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to taste you.

And you don’t fight it when he pulls your hand from your pussy and drags it to his crotch, his fingers entwining with yours as he wraps them around his heavy, throbbing cock and moans. It’s humiliating, the way he thrusts into your hand, tightening his grip so you’re forced to feel every shivery twitch of his dick while he sucks eagerly on your tongue.

This is the choice you’d made, the deal you struck. It’s too late to back out now, and even if you tried to… 

“I want you,” he pants, his lips glistening with saliva, an almost manic look in those dark, pretty eyes, “to ride me.”

… you’re not so sure Getou would let you.

So you allow yourself to be manhandled, lifted and situated across his lap like a doll. Hands braced on his tattooed chest, you lift your hips just enough for him to guide his cock to your slick entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length.

Every inch hurts. 

It doesn’t make it any less painful, the way Getou soothes you, his thumbs stroking gently at your waist as you whine and mewl, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffs you full.

“Fuck– good girl, taking me so well,” he purrs.

You’re not sure if it’s shame, pleasure, or some sense of twisted pride at the praise that has your pussy clenching, fire racing through your veins when Getou experimentally rocks his hips upwards. And if your cheeks weren’t already burning, the lewd moan that escapes you when the head of his cock hits your g-spot would certainly do the trick. 

Ever observant, he wastes no time capitalising on your slip, lifting you up just to drive you back down onto his length at the perfect angle. You shudder around him, keening out a cry that has him groaning in pleasure.

There’s no illusion of control here between you two.

You might be the one on top, but Getou’s grip’s too tight, guiding every roll of your hips against his, his own rising in time to fuck his cock deeper into your warm, velvety cunt. And somewhere distantly you recognise that this could be a thousand times worse. How easily he could change the narrative in a heartbeat, flip you over, force your face into the pillows and fuck you like a dog until you’re gasping for air. He could use you, hurt you, probably kill you without ever needing to touch the gun he’d left on your nightstand – and you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of stopping him.

But he doesn’t. Lying back against your pillows, dark hair falling from his half up-do, cheeks flushed from exertion, Getou’s attention is wholly fixed on you - on your face, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he hits somewhere deep inside of you that has you seeing stars, on your tits, the way they bounce every time you sink back down onto his cock.

His eyes are hooded, dark and intense, searching for every hint of pleasure he’s drawn from you. You gasp his name, fingers digging into his chest, your cunt fluttering so deliciously around him – and he loses that last little bit of his self control. 

He jerks upright, one arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him as he braces himself with the other, and before you can so much as gasp his mouth is at your tits, hot tongue laving at soft, supple skin there.

“Suguru,” he growls, hips snapping feverishly against yours. 

“Suguru,” you parrot, head lolling back as heat coils tighter in your core. 

You’ll worry about the consequences later, when he pulls you boneless and sated into his arms and you feel his heart thumping at your back as he kisses you and tells you to sleep. When tomorrow you arrive at work and Nanami stares a beat too long as the love bites scattered across your throat, no doubt wondering why you won’t so much as look at him.

For now, you settle for pulling him closer, gasping as you chase that quaking, blissful end.

[bridgeportbritt]

The Toxicity of Royal Simblr

alright guys. I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t have to make a post about this or that it would just go away. But, I’m seeing now that this is not the case. As the owner of the Royal Discord Community, I along with others in the community feel like this behind the scenes toxic behavior needs to be addressed because it’s been going on for a while now and a lot of people have been affected.

Please note that the intention is to bring attention to some of the toxic behaviors shown here so those involved will not continue further. We’ve blocked names of some people in the following screenshots to remove their identity as this is not about he said/she said stuff. It’s about bringing light to something that’s been affecting all of us.

This is a long post so be prepared to do some reading if you continue on. The following screenshots were provided to me because I took over the Royal Discord once the previous admins no longer wanted it. The rest is under the cut.

*Before you read on, I’m happy to let you know that a resolution has come since this initial post. Please read this post. Thank you!*

A lot of these messages are disheartening because myself, the other admins/mods, and the community as a whole has worked hard to bring the community back from a place where people honestly felt too scared to join because messages like these were playing in the background and this sentiment seeps into every part of Royal Simblr unfortunately. Due to how things were run previously on top of this toxic underbelly it’s made people hesistant to join in.

There is one thing I’d like to address first as it was directed at myself and I want to own up to anything I have done in this. When I first joined Royal Simblr, I participated in a Royal Sim Pageant. In one of the rounds, derogatory and racist remarks against Asians were made without the participants knowing. I truly regret to have been apart of it. When it was brought to my attention, I worked to correct the damage done with the owners of the pageant. I’m not perfect and don’t claim to be, but I’m always working to be better especially when it comes to correctly representing other cultures as it’s something I take very seriously.

To preface these messages, there are two things to know. There are two seperate servers. Server A) The server I’ve been admin of for a little over a month after the last admin transferred it to me. Server B) A smaller server that was created before Server A and made up a lot of the folks who also created and ran the Server A initially. The other thing is most of these people are not in Server A and haven’t been in over a month.

The conversation you see here started with a member of the community being accused of copying storylines. This person being accused is in Server A and this conversation took place in Server B on July 15, 2021.

The person speaking is saying they left Server A because a person is accused of copying storylines. For some reason, the whole community is then somehow involved in this as the conversation shifts. The person accused of copying happened to be a moderator in Server A which is mentioned. 

From what I’ve seen from this server, this is fairly common behaviour and multiple people have been bullied, accused of copying, etc. many stemming from this server.

In this shot, Server A is put into question. Many stating they left because they don’t want to pretend to be positive or show interest in other stories as if they are being forced to. As you can see one person states that this is not the case of the server since I’ve been admin and don’t encourage people to show fake positivity.

However, this person is actually in Server A which I’m guessing is why they decided to sort of defend it. But, then they agree that those running Server A are questionable (ie myself and the other admins/mods).

More of the same, but speaking about the previous ownership of the server when referring to being asked to step down. Also more just toxic talk about the entire Royal simblr community for no reason. This comes from those who have “built the community” and “do so much for it.” But behind closed doors this is what is done.

In this shot, those in Server A are accused of not “making an effort to be anyone’s friend” with those who rarely interact, being nice to each other for clout, and just overall being fake. Although, keep in mind, one of these people (”I stay for the drama”) is in Server A and never expressed any of this to me or other admins. Yet talking trash about us in Server B. Note: the pageant is also brought up here which I’ve addressed above and I believe I was the only admin or moderator apart of the pageant. 

Here they make fun of people speaking about their stories and other people encouraging them. Also, just want to point out if anyone ever feels unwelcomed in the server, please reach out to me of the other admins. It’s our goal to make everyone welcome, but we can’t do that if we don’t know. Also, being a jerk to people in another server for no reason isn't really a good way to make friends.

Some general nonsense about the server and those in the server. Again most of these people haven’t been in the server since I took over so sentiments about the status of the server are all from a month ago when those in Server B were in charge of Server A. The “felt like a corporation” and “crickets” is all things we’ve been working to reverse since we’ve taken it over.

In these shots, it’s talked about how so many people are stuck in their Royal stories and don’t plan methodically and decorate and how they take bad screenshots. Basically making fun of everyone else because they aren’t doing things exactly as they are or think they should be done. The community they “built” mind you. Then, they talk about some plan to rejoin Server A and bait people, but not wanting to get caught up so deciding against it.

This gives you a gist of what is happening in the Royal Simblr community. Some of the most beloved and talented among us are spending their time poking fun at everyone else, bullying, and being toxic in a server that is “not exclusive.” Many of my friends have been apart of this and even got swept into the toxicity which shows you the nature of this group. It’s very exclusive and meant to bully and mock others even going as far as making people want leave the community alrogether.

This is not me trying to bash anyone or continue bullying or single out these people specifically as bad people. There are a lot more screenshots that I did not share of just really mean stuff, but we’ve all done messed up stuff. I won't say who said what or even who had this particular conversation because at this point it doesn't matter, but I will address those who are in the server and actively participate in toxic conversations including @royaldevilliers @thesimsroyalfam @wa-royal-tea @royalfamilyofgrimalldi and @markinghamroyals​

We all have a vision for the community and we’ve been working towards that and this is NOT it. It’s not about who’s best or being being better than everyone else. It’s supposed to be about community, sharing stories, and overall just having a good time with a fun HOBBY. Others are just taking it too far and too seriously. Things like this ruin it for EVERYONE. 

When I took over Server A, no one interacted, people were nervous to join, and it was a place where people didn’t feel welcomed. Now, we just had a random 6 hour server stream yesterday, people are helping people daily and sharing their stories again. This is what we want for the community. But with behavior like this, we will NEVER get there.

To those who are doing this, please look at these nasty messages and see how this does so much harm. The toxic energy you bring does not stop just because it’s in your little bubble. 

This is who you want to be known as?

This is how you want to “build a community?” 

None of us are perfect and we don’t expect you to be either, but this is just mean especially to folks who haven’t done anything to you and even look up to you.

To those who’ve been affected by this, I’m really sorry. We have to do better if we want this community to continue and be a good place for us all.

[yarichin-imagines]

can i get some toxic relationship headcanons with each of the boys? thank you <3

YARI GOT THIS SHIT.

AYY OUR FIRST COLLAB POST — admin bii

TW: toxic relationships, jealousy, gaslighting, mindbreak (reader getting used to/happy with toxicity), dubcon, hints of yandere, etc.

toono - insecurity

Toono just can’t seem to convince himself you truly love him. It leads to him closing off and pitying himself quite a bit. He treats the relationship like something else he’s bound to fuck up, and he shouldn’t get too attached. That leads to your relationship feeling half-baked.

kashima - jealous

Kashima is not paranoid! He trusts you 100%. It's everyone else he doesn't trust. He gets a little more than hot under the collar when he starts noticing you do nothing to stop guys from buying you drinks at a club— you accept the drinks! that you apologize to the perverts who grope you when the try to slide past you on a crowded metro, and blush when you catch them staring. Steam practically pours out of his ears. He will drag you by your wrist, his grip searing hot and twisting hard against the skin -- it hurts, but he's too angry to notice now. Doesn't matter if it's at school, at a club, and it doesn't matter if it's the morning, noon or night. He'll have you against something in seconds, muttering expletives, even going so far as to threaten live's if someone has the audacity to cozy up to you right in front of him. It's unfathomable, it's like nobody can see that you so obviously belong to him. After all, you're his girl. He's the one you come home to, the only one who gets to touch you, hold you, to fuck you, to see you in every state of mind, to see you break, and to see you cum. For him. Just for him. If he wasn't such a good fuck when he's all worked up, surely you'd have had the sense to leave him, but that just isn't the case with Kashima. . .

yacchan - communication issues

Yacchan can’t communicate, but it isn’t for a lack of talking. He has built up a wall after years of being inferior, so when someone tries to push the boundaries a bit and open him up, he gets very defensive. He gets hostile and sarcastic, even in his body language, moving as if he’s preparing to fight. He just can’t handle criticism because he’s been given so much shit through his life, he interprets criticism as hate and feels a need to defend himself. He doesn’t want to let anyone break down his walls that he has spent so long putting up to protect himself.

Shikatani - perfectionist

Shika doesn’t want anything to happen if he doesn’t know it’ll go exactly as he planned. All the dates need to go perfect or it ends with him in tears because he ‘fucked it all up’. Even if the mess up ends in you two having an equally great time, he can’t get over how it didn’t go perfectly. This also sort of plays into a lack of communication as he doesn’t want to bring up things that could cause arguments.

akemi - gaslighting

To be honest, it gets a little fuzzy trying to remember what life was like before Keiichi Akemi.

“Why worry about it?” he would always say. “I’ll take care of everything. Just don’t think about it, ‘kay?”

How could you refuse a life planned out for you down to the tee? Schedules were structure, and without structure, you’d definitely fall apart.

“What would you do without me?”

Please don’t leave me!

“If you don’t exercise, you’ll get fat again, like before. You don’t want to be fat again right?”

You’re right! I’m sorry!

“I’m only doing this because I love you, ya know.”

You don’t remember before, but you do know that nobody has ever loved you the way Akemi does now, nobody else loves you as much as Akemi does now.

And nobody ever will.

itome - lack of communication

While Yacchan and Shikatani have their own communication issues, Itome doesn’t communicate at all, mostly due to his crippling insecurity. He is silent most of the time, always defaulting to whatever you want to do. He just hopes that you won’t leave if he agrees to do what you want all the time. He gets so scared of losing you, he’ll end up crying late at night. If you notice and ask him what’s wrong, he violently insists he’s fine and nothing’s wrong. “It’s fine” is a catchphrase of his. This leads to a relationship in a stalemate where neither of you know if the other is genuinely happy.

yuri - disrespect (being late, “forgetting” events, unsupportive)

When it was three minutes past your reservation, you didn’t even notice. You weren’t even bothered when he forgot about your recital banquet, after all, he probably just got tied up with club logistics, a vice president does have a lot of responsibilities.

He never really saw the point of your artwork, but what was one opinion out of many? After all, yours was the one that mattered. Right?

At least he was looking at it, although, for extended periods at a time, with a puzzled expression, that would morph into a frustrated confusion before it transformed into complete disgust.

But so what?

Soon, he was a half hour late to reservations, an hour when the days were really bad. He started blowing off your showcases. And when you found the card you’d designed yourself for his birthday in the trash? Or overheard him describing your art as “kiddy! kiddy! ugly?” What were you supposed to do?

Flowers and orgasms were fine and dandy of course, but every anniversary forgotten and every piece you found hidden in a closet was just another knife to your chest, albeit a warning that went in one ear and out another.

tamura - controlling

"Absolutely not."

It has to be the tenth outfit you've presented for your boyfriend's approval, and despite your opaque tights (an improvement over the lace ones the last few 'fits) the dress is "still too short." If not the dress nor the tights, the heels are "too alluring" and your makeup is "too provocative."

Tamura takes it upon himself to pick your outfit and makeup, and unless you're putting on his own personal burlesque show, chances are the colors are neutral or non-flattering and the makeup is almost completely natural, truly.

Sometimes it's nice not having to worry, knowing you can sleep in a little later because your boyfriend has planned out your daily look and perfectly portioned your breakfast and lunchbox. Then there’s the rest of the times, when you have to time out your trips to the mall so that you come home when Tamura is out and hide your shopping bags in your car. But all of it’s no use.

He’s one step ahead of you every time. He has pictures of your gas meter daily, he tracks your location, and eventually, he takes you everywhere you go and sets a curfew.

If you post a picture with a guy on your socials, he wants the receipts, he wants the goddamn family tree proving that the schmuck’s your first cousin, or else. Or else, being that he shuts down your socials, happens anyway of course.

You get used to it. You don’t get to decide anymore, he decides for you, when you wake up, eat, cum, and what you wear, what you know, what you think and isn’t that just sweet?

jimmy - stalking

This one is kind of obvious. Jimmy HAS to know where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re with, and when you’ll be back. He can be found following you places or looking through your things. Though, when he finds out these things, he doesn’t get angry. He just broods and pities himself for a long time. He ends up making you feel obligated to tell him everything, and there’s always something that makes him upset about it.

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 3

This fic assumes Mishima isn't a confidant, the reader is the Moon arcana instead, keep this in mind.

word count: 6.3k words, SFW

- Admin Myah

Over the next few weeks spent with Akira, or… Joker, as he seemed to be called when the situation demanded, you learned that the world was much more complicated than you ever could’ve dreamed. Sure, you praised yourself for being a little less of a sheep than the idle-brained teenagers of your everyday life who thought of nothing but gossip, status and appearances, but now you felt insignificant, like you’d been asleep all this time until Akira, Ryuji and Ann had placed six symbolic hands upon you, and shaken you to life. Layers upon layers, he explained the subconscious world that lay beneath, which ached to be revealed, only to those who’d open their eyes.

＊

It’d been a rush, your first time in the Metaverse. You’d insisted to Akira, though he protested, that you wanted to see what all of this near-unbelievable nonsense he was explaining was all about. He’d never taken non-Phantom-Thief confidants into the Metaverse, and he was hesitant, silent for a long while before deciding that your help was worth the risk. After all, he’d already told you everything, and they had no way to erase memories… yet.

You remember Akira taking your hand, the skin on skin contact. Up on the school’s rooftop with Ryuji and Ann flanking you, Akira had told you it was a precaution, to make absolutely sure that you transferred into the Metaverse with them and landed in the same place. You had to be touching one of them, for your safety, and he’d eagerly volunteered. With the cat in his bag seeming to smile at you over his shoulder (an occurrence which made you feel like you were going looney already) he tapped an app icon on his phone, some scary red little square, and with that, your body lifted, began to float, or so it seemed. Red completely consumed your vision, red and black ink like those blobs you’d seen the Phantom Thieves appear from when this all began. You gasped, stumbling back a step as if you could escape the all-encompassing wave, and Akira, sensing your trepidation, squeezed your hand slightly.

The rooftop faded, and you felt like a character from a videogame fast-traveling to their destination. Almost as fast as it appeared, the trippy red and black sludge subsided, and before you sat a dark, dreary scenery. A castle, one that obviously belonged to a malevolent ruler sat amongst a purple sky and the smell of despair.

“What the…” your mouth hung agape for a second, taking in your surroundings before letting your eyes trail down to where your hand met Akira’s. Assuming you no longer needed it, you shook him off gently, not even sparing a glance his way, and his eyebrows creased just the smallest amount, not that you noticed. You were too focused on the giant cat before you, knee-height, with a round, bulbous head. “Is… are you-?!”

“Much more handsome and dashing in this form, wouldn’t you say?” Morgana - now confirmed - gave you a sly look as you leaned down to his height to run your hand along the fur on his head.

“Wow… so cute!” You cooed.

“Hey! Stop it! Stop it! I am a warrior and to be taken seriously!” he whined, shooing away your hands, his fur on end.

“Ha!” a sharp laugh rang out behind you, and you turned to see that Morgana wasn’t the only one who’d made a drastic change. Ryuji was now clad in some kind of leather pirate’s uniform, his demeanor far more fearsome and a skull mask across his face. Ann donned a skin-tight body suit and cat mask, and Akira wore a lavish long coat, red gloves, and a masquerade mask. He looked like a magician from some fairytale, or perhaps the leader of some band of Robin-Hood-inspired band of vigilantes… although you supposed that was kind of what he was now… either way, he would make amazing source material for your main protagonist. Such swagger, a commanding presence… he didn’t seem to exactly be the same Akira you’d met earlier.

＊

The trip to the Metaverse was almost completely uneventful… almost. Just once, when you’d begged Akira to press forward and show you the inside of the castle, something called a “shadow” attacked, and you got to see the band of thieves in action. It was shocking, leaving chills running down your spine. Here were your classmates, people your age with ghost-like spirits materializing at their backs, flipping through the castle’s corridors, shooting guns and slingshots and magic at terrifying beasts. It was all so fast-paced, so stunning, that your body locked up witnessing the battle. A shadow spotted you in the background, defenseless and clearly not part of the Phantom Thief entourage, and taking the petty opportunity only a sore-loser on the ropes would take, struck out against you. You shrieked, your hands uselessly coming up to defend your face as if it would help. Akira’s eyes widened, his reflexes so much faster in this realm, and turned on his heel, diving in front of you to deflect the blast of frosty energy swirling toward you. It bounced off of the side of his large steel dagger and ricoheted back at the shadow. After assessing the situation and asking if you were okay, Akira decided it was time to return you back to the real world. It was too dangerous for someone without a persona to wander here. The thieves would return later, once you were safe at home.

＊

Anyway, now you believed him, you knew everything he was saying, about Kamoshida and his fucked up mind, about confidants, personas and metacognition was real and very much a serious matter. Now all that was left was to decide just how you could help them, what kind of deal you could strike with the clever leader of the Phantom Thieves. Of course, he didn’t expect you to get something and give nothing.

It was decided that you’d offer your knowledge as a writer to help with negotiation and charming shadows in the Metaverse. You’d turn those golden lines you wrote on the pages into real-life lessons, and Akira would learn to seduce shadows, to out-smart them, to persuade them to give up everything they had: their money, precious belongings, even their very selves. He would flirt, threaten, intimidate, any honeyed word or silver-tongued method he could use to make deals with shadows go along more smoothly. Perfect. It would help him out immensely. But, what did you want, he’d asked again.

It felt embarrassing, now that you were put on the spot, forced to disclose it, but although those “golden words” translated well into lessons for others, you found that you couldn’t as easily take your own advice. You struggled with human interaction in your real life, especially of the romantic kind. You could write a healthy relationship out on paper, create the ideal love interest from scratch for a story, but stumbled along words like some socially incompetent fool once it came time to apply that knowledge. As much as you hated to admit it, these days even getting true, realistic romantic moments down on paper was a struggle. The well was drying up, writer’s block, as you’d explained it to your online friends. It was near impossible to make something from nothing, and you had nothing. No real romantic experience. You couldn’t help but think this was the route of the problem. Your writing, your precious romance novel would flourish, if only it’s author wasn’t completely clueless.

“Date me…” You mumbled, surprised out how your long moment of pensive introspection had accumulated into this clunky statement.

“What?” Akira let out a breath he’d seemed to be holding the entire time, just watching you think on what method of reciprocity was worth your help. Losing your nerve at the incredulous tone of his voice and the raise of his brows, you shrunk back a bit, ready to defend your words.

“W-wait!” You held a hand out between you. “Not really. I mean…” how to word this…? “Like, fake!” He looked even more confused than before. You released a noise of frustration. “What I mean is, you take me on dates - fake ones - stupid little stuff couples do, for my writing, of course…” You looked toward the ground, suddenly extremely interested in your shoes.

“How does that benefit you in any way?” He smiled, a bit forced, a blush dusting his pale cheeks.

“Well I- I’ve been having writer's block lately. I mean sure, I can give you lines and lessons from my previous works, drabble and things I’ve learned, written down in the past, but I have no fresh material. Stagnation is every writer’s downfall, but I have no experience, I need more to go off of… and then maybe I can even transfer what I discern from our… interactions - er… dates I mean - to you. Does that make sense?” You looked up at him hopefully.

“Uh… no,” Yeah, you knew it didn’t, but that’s all you had for him. His hand shook, much less confident as Akira than Joker, and he shoved it in his pocket.

“It’s hard to explain, I just… that’s my deal. Will you take it?” You clutched your bag a little closer to your body. “We don’t even have to tell anybody. I just want to experience it… going out… with someone…” It sounded a little more pathetic now that you were actually hearing yourself. You both stood in silence, Akira contemplating your words. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you as a person… it was just… complicated…

“Give me a day to think about it,” he spoke quietly, giving you a polite send off before parting ways.

That night, anxiety set in as you rolled around in your bed restlessly.

Did you sound like a creep? Were you being unreasonable? Was this asking too much of him? Does he think you’re crazy? You’ll probably never hear from him again. He’d probably rather find a way in that crazy Metaverse to erase your memories so he can forget the awkward exchange ever happened. Maybe he’ll kick your shadow’s ass one day.

You debated going to school the next day.

＊

Akira’s night, though not as horrendous as yours, was not a peaceful one. Like so many nights, he found himself awoken to the clink of a ball and chain, dressed in striped rags as he stood and walked to the bars of his cell. The twins were waiting, as always, anger in their eyes.

“Look alive, prisoner!” Caroline spoke.

“Our master would have a word with you!” Justine chimed in. Akira looked up, meeting Igor’s large grin.

“You’ve forsaken a bond, Trickster. One must ask, why?” Igor’s hands splayed over a deck on cards on his desk.

“Huh…? What do you mean?” Sleep lingering in his mind, and confused as to why he was here this time, Akira replied.

“I’ve told you, the bonds you strengthen over time and the new bonds you form, they will be what wins this fight. You can only complete your mission, save all that is, through the support your confidants provide, so why have you abandoned this bond?” Igor’s fingers folded together, hands clasped, a show of disappointment. “Now is not the time to not try hard enough.” Was that a hint of frustration in his tone? If so, he didn’t show it.

“...I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Akira rubbed one eye lazily.

“You’re not trying to understand, worm! Wake up!” Caroline’s fist banged down across the bars, startling Akira slightly. He looked to Igor again, who held up a single card between two fingers. On its face sat two wolves, both howling up at a glittering moon.

“The Moon.” Igor stated plainly. “Illusion, fear, anxiety, intuition, uncertainty, complexity, secrets, the unconscious mind. A friend, a possible lover, someone unsure of themselves and others. Creativity, shadowed by doubt. Someone who supports others but not themselves.” As he spoke, images of your face flashed in Akira’s mind. Igor threw the card into the air, catching it upside-down, letting the wolves fall into the moon, swimming in its glow. “Reversed: release of fear, repressed emotion, clarity, misinterpretations overturned. Someone who can fix what was upright. But you’ve passed over the opportunity.” Igor swipes his free hand in front of the card, and it disappears.

Scenes play out in Akira’s head. Confrontation with shadows, confrontations with real people, but these aren’t real… or rather, haven’t happened yet.

He receives clarity.

The Moon has more to offer than lessons on charisma, seduction, trickery, persuasion. His intuition will grow, his ability to perceive things before they happen, the ability to read and understand people, and be understood in return. Other bonds will grow, empathy will grow. More friends, closer friends, a flash of blue hair, white uniform, red hair, headphones, then a tidy uniform, a Shujin uniform, gloves, a beige jacket, and finally bouncy curls and a soft, high pitched voice. With your help, the Phantom Thieves can grow. Bonds will strengthen. Complexity, Igor had said. More than meets the eye. Was there more to you? You weren’t too bad, obviously intelligent… a bit odd, but kind enough, and he did find you cute… but pretending, a fake relationship? How could a fake bond strengthen

The card reappears, as if out of thin air, and Igor points to one upside down wolf.

“Me.” Joker whispers, as if guided by an unseen force. Igor points to the other wolf.

You.

He awakens with a start, nearly knocking Morgana off the bed. He has an answer for you now.

＊

He finds you at school the next day, huddled in the library and not where you’d said you’d meet him. You’d been dreading this, waiting for the rejection, your hand trembling slightly on the book in your hands. He sits across from you, a look of determination on his face. Waiting for him to speak was torture.

“I’ll do it.” He holds out a hand, waiting for you to shake it, seal the deal. A contact has been signed.

＊

Your first date with Akira is clunky, unpracticed, unprecedented of course. He doesn’t know much about what to do, either, so he takes you to Le Blanc for dinner. Some coffee and curry, maybe a soda and some conversation on the side? It couldn’t be too bad, right? That’s what dudes do, he thought, bring their... pretend sweetheart somewhere for dinner, right? Sojiro is teasing, of course, wondering who this new person was, why Akira was holding their hand. He smirks like a dad proud of his boy, and Akira, too embarrassed under Sojiro’s scrutiny now to sit down and serve you curry, rushes you upstairs.

After being dragged by the hand up rickety old stairs, you end up in Akira’s room alone. You look around, taking in his sparse decorations, humble belongings. It then strikes you that you are, in fact, alone. Alone with a boy in his room, for the first time in your life. You didn’t know how you got here, and so fast. Maybe you were in over your head. Maybe you just needed to calm down. This was part of the process, right? Real couples did this, to get to know each other. He beckons you over, gestures for you to sit on his bed with him. You’re hesitant, but Akira isn’t making a big deal out of it, and you’re not really alone, with Morgana right there, so you sit, as far from him as you could be on the surprisingly soft bed. Struggling for words and new to dates himself, Akira decides to treat you first and foremost like his friend. That makes this all easier.

He spends the next hour or so describing Mementos, his mentor Igor, the twins. He wants you to know everything, and it surprises him. His other confidants, save for the actual Phantom Thieves, don’t know anything about the hidden world their bonds are healing. He describes the arcana to you, the tarot, the way his soul resonates with The Fool, Ryuji The Chariot, Ann The Lovers. His doctor friend is Death, Sojiro the Hierophant. Morgana here is the Magician, and proud of it. He explains how he feels a bond with them, as he now does with you. They make him feel like he can do anything. You’re included in that now. You feel warmth rise to your cheeks. How could he say that so casually? It wasn’t like it was a love confession or whatever, but you had trouble seriously telling your online friends you appreciated having them in your lives without adding a joke or meme in there somewhere. Why did he even need your help? He seemed well spoken. You said so, voicing these opinions aloud.

“Huh.. you know, I actually don’t usually talk this much,” he smiled. “Must just be you.” He was only half teasing. You looked away nervously, feeling the need to change the subject.

“S-so, what am I?” You began to stroke Morgana’s fur, and this time he didn’t seem to mind.

“You mean your soul?” He scooted a bit closer.

“Yeah.” It didn’t go unnoticed.

“The Moon.” He replied softly.

He spent the rest of the night explaining the levels of Mementos, and some of the wicked people whose hearts he’s had the displeasure of seeing inside, but the absolute pleasure of changing. You say you aren’t surprised so many people are walking around so hurt inside or eager to hurt others. When the “date” ends - neither of you having even gotten that promised coffee or curry downstairs - you’re touching, sitting shoulder to shoulder looking at the moon outside his window with Morgana on your lap. The room seems a little warmer, a little less humble. Akira mentions with a sheepish grin that it’s getting late, and offers to walk you home.

Rank Up!

＊

You sit in your bed that night, Akira now having returned to Le Blanc, and think about if this will make good writing material or not. You had to have learned something, right? There was something to be gained from every experience… but you can’t help feeling like you’ve warmed up to the thought of Akira a bit more… not too much, however. You smiled to yourself at the thought of The Fool, tricked into dating the Moon, for all it can offer him.

He’d been so awkward at your front door when he dropped you off. You could tell he had no clue what to do. He was frantically looking around. People in movies kissed their date at this point, cheek or lips, depending on how the date went, right? He confessed that he’s one of those people who truly don’t know anything about romance, like you’d mentioned earlier in one of your conversations. You tell him it’s fine, that you didn’t expect anything, that you just met the other day. He thought he was being clear, dropping hints that he might want to peck your cheek, just a quick gesture to kick off your fake relationship, but maybe he wasn’t as slick as he thought. The hints seemed to go over your head. Maybe he really did need help.

＊

Your second date comes in the form of you begging to go back into the Metaverse for some inspiration. He fights you, bringing up the last time a shadow attacked you, but you are persistent. He gives in, taking you to the highest rung of Mementos, where the shadows are weak and he can keep you safe adequately on his own. It is a date, after all, no Phantom Thieves tagging along. Mementos is a bit more frightening than Kamoshida’s Palace, you mention, and he eases your fear, promising to protect you here, always. You take in his Phantom Thief uniform in more detail as you walk the long corridors of the realm of the subconscious and decide he looks quite handsome in it.

You watch him battle a demon that is the personification of lust, a succubus-like creature dripping with temptation and love, or so it thinks. Joker uses all that you’ve taught him so far, which isn’t much, and cons the false idol of love out of their money. It was quite comical yet a bit sad to watch the shadows expression fall from a cocky to a defeated one, but preformative love you’ve decided, is doomed to lose. The irony flies over your head.

From this experience, watching Joker fight with speed and grace, you settle on a genre for your novel. It will be a high-fantasy romance. Joker will inspire your main character, of course, but the love interest… was still undecided. You started drafting her to look like Ann, act like Ann, give off the energy and power Ann does. Ryuji was an option at first as well to inspire the love interest’s personality, but he was a bit too brash. You wanted someone strong, but soft and elegant at the same time. These characters were loosely based on the Phantom Thieves, anyway, so it didn’t really matter.

＊

When you leave the Metaverse, though Akira is a bit exhausted, he takes you to a local casual restaurant to make up for the last time at Le Blanc. There, sitting across the counter from you two is an older gentleman. Yoshida, Akira whispers, is a friend of his, another confidant. The Sun. Yoshida makes small talk, asking politely if you’re with Akira, and you feel your stomach clench. You knew this was fake, the agreement was clear, but hearing it aloud, the awkward ‘we’re just friends’ that was coming made you sweat. It still felt like rejection anyway. When Akira confirms that yes, you are in fact dating, your eyes widen, the coil in your stomach releasing. He smiles, taking your hand. This has to be an act, a show to play up the relationship. He’s just performing his duty, his role, holding up his end of the deal in order to simulate a real relationship and give you worthwhile source material… right?

Either way, you appreciate not being publicly humiliated, and smile back. That night, you write down everything, and what it’s like to not be alone.

Rank Up!

＊

Days pass, Kamoshida coming and going, justice being served, and you spend more and more time with your fake boyfriend. Your parents let him come over, and in your room you let him read some of the old poetry you’ve written, some lame pining drabble from your younger years, and some more recent things you’re proud of. He scours your room, digging up old hobbies and photos. You tell him all about them. He tells you he enjoys learning these things about you. You simply smile. It doesn’t seem to be the reaction he was looking for. Not liking the small frown that adorns his features, you pick the conversation back up, asking if he thinks you’ll ever have a persona. He smiles, maybe someday.

Rank Up!

＊

The Phantom Thieves are gaining fame, only more fodder for your writing. The more you hang out with Akira and his friends, the more real it feels. Your online friends can feel it, too. They sense you changing, talking less of writing and more of Akira. They tease you, of course, but they don’t get it. He’s just a main character… just a muse.

This time, Akira walks home to Le Blanc alone, wondering if he should tell you how he feels. He doesn’t like it, holding up this pretense of a fake relationship, pretending the glances and touches don’t matter. He wants to tell you…

...that he’s slowly falling.

You receive a little gift in the mail the next day. It’s a deck of tarot cards. The return address is blank. You call him to tell him all about it, and end up discussing the pros and cons of each card all night. What a coincidence that you should receive your own deck all of a sudden.

Rank Up!

＊

There are moments where you’re afraid you may be falling, too. There was the time that a blue-haired young man stalked you and your friends through Shibuya, turning corners when you did, always on your trail. When Ryuji finally got fed up and confronted the weirdo, asking why the hell he was following you guys, he’d revealed that his name was Yusuke, a student of a painting master, and that he was simply following inspiration where it lead.

“Your friend there, I was drawn to them,” he points elegantly, like some manga bishounen, past Ryuji and toward you. “I beg of you, allow me to paint your form. Something about your normalcy stands out. What I mean is, there is beauty to be found in not standing out, a silent grace in being so plain.” You could tell Yusuke meant no harm, that he simply may be a bit socially inept with his words, as well, but the way he was talking about you set something in Akira on fire. He stood in front of you, shifting until his body blocked yours from Yusuke’s sight.

“They aren’t plain.” He spoke with a dangerous edge to his tone, and you felt your heartbeat speed up. The hint of jealousy in his voice at Yusuke’s request for you to model for him, and anger at him calling someone he found so fascinating plain was evident.

＊

Yusuke seemed to be in denial in the coming days. Though your little troupe seemed to constantly be bumping into him, offering him sound advice and trying to awaken him to the mire of corruption that was the truth behind his mentor, Ichiryusai Madarame, he refused to see reason. He dove further into his art, but you could tell he was hurting. You used your time with Akira these days to teach him how art, much like film and literature, can reflect false truths and influence people. The deception, corruption and shallowness of the media extended to the art world, as he learned after one or two gallery visits with you.

It was then, in a gallery displaying Yusuke’s work, as you sat in a secluded corner alone discussing ways to take down Madarame, that Akira started to flirt incessantly.

He takes your hand, bringing up romantic tropes in movies he’s seen that seem so forced, one-sided, cliche, uncomfortable. He mentions that he would’ve done better, explains how those scenes would’ve played out if he had any say.

“Is that so?” Your brow raises, amused by how animated this usually quiet boy could be when he was passionate about something.

“Yeah! Of course! What, you don’t see me doing that?” he laughed breathily, going on about how the male lead of some high-school romance film Sojiro rented for him was clumsy, forceful, and didn't give his lover time and space to think about their feelings. “I would’ve treated them much, much better… “ his words trail off, as if lost in thought.

“...Is that so?” You ask again, studying his face and asking yourself how you didn’t notice before how beautiful the hue of his eyes were. You sure as hell were noticing now… steely grey, sharp, deep, purposeful. You’d have to write that down… for research purposes of course. When you pull yourself back to reality, no longer lost in the swirl of his irises, you realize he’s staring at you, and has been for some time.

“Do… can I-” he speaks, throat dry, and scoots himself closer. “May I kiss you…?” His voice is soft, so soft, scared.

“...Yes.” You answer, naturally, impulsively, voice just as soft. When Akira leans forward, and softly presses his apprehensive lips to yours, you feel like you’ve been set on fire. Your mind begins to go crazy, while your body is frozen. It’s not that you didn’t like it, some part of you did. You wanted more, but it felt wrong. This wasn’t real. You didn’t truly like him… right? This kiss was fake, for research purposes… to cure writer’s block…

...right?

You were frozen more from guilt than nerves. Weren’t first kisses supposed to feel like little butterflies in your stomach? Did he think he owed you this? Were you taking advantage of him at this point? Did he feel forced to kiss you to keep up his end of the bargain?

Akira deepened the kiss, a hand on the back of your neck, guiding you, begging you to reciprocate. When you didn’t, lost in your own head, he pulls away, a small frown tugging at his lips.

“W-we… we should head home. I’ll walk you…” he sighs. You both stand, make your way back onto the main street from the museum, and are silent the entire walk home.

You think he’s silent because you’ve forced him to think he needs to kiss you, and now regrets his decision. He thinks you’re silent because he’s just forced a kiss upon you, just like some Chad from a movie who can’t understand boundaries. Neither of you know your silence is for the exact same reasons.

Akira drops you off at home with a quiet ‘goodnight,’ and walks home, clearing his head in the cool night air.

“Stupid… jeez… fuckin’ stupid,” he huffs, repirmanding himself. This wasn’t real. You’d stated that from the beginning. This relationship was to benefit your writing, to help him in the Metaverse, nothing else. Nothing else.

Nothing. Else.

It was his fault he let himself develop real feelings. He has no right to be sad, to blame you, to get upset. You’d stated the terms from the very start…

Maybe he really was The Fool.

Rank Up…?

＊

The next few weeks are awkward.

Both of you think it’s your fault.

You go on dates like usual, but they are strictly business. You get writing material, he gets advice, no touching, and certainly no kissing. Yusuke joins the group. Things are great… friendly… strained, tense. Akira wonders what the hell he’s doing, if this bond is even worth it. Weeks pass. He feels your bond with him growing, but not in the way he wishes. It felt like all of his other confidants: visit, gain, rank up, gain power, learn. He wonders if he can keep this up. His heart aches. He wants to touch you more, but can’t, wants to tell you more, but won’t let himself.

＊

One rainy night, he calls you, like he often does when you can’t meet up in person, and tells you he can’t do this anymore. You lie, and say you agree. The guilt won’t let you tell him the truth, that you want to end the farce, move onto something more real. You can sense your feelings for him growing stronger each day, and it’s not fair to him. Without fighting, without the big “it’s not you it’s me you” you’re used to reading about in books, you tell him you respect his decision, and it’s over. When Akira hangs up, he finds himself a bit angry inside. You didn’t even try to fight for the relationship. There was a tiny little part of him that hoped you felt anything for him, that maybe it meant something to you. He cries that night, for the first time in a long time. They are angry tears, frustrated ones.

＊

In your bed, you find yourself sitting upright, dead inside, unfeeling, empty. You feel like a part of you is gone, but can’t pinpoint why. You don’t even notice the tears sliding down your own cheeks as you sift through the pack of tarot cards that mysteriously came into your life. You find The Moon, and play with it, twisting it between your fingers before sending it flying across the room like a paper dart. Did this mean you couldn’t hang out with the Phantom Thieves anymore? Were you losing your only in-real-life friends and… boyfriend(?) all in the same day?

You sifted through the cards and gently set aside the Emperor, the Lovers, the Chariot. Then your hand drifted over the Fool. You held it out in front of your face. A dancing man looking up at the sky with a jesters cap perched upon his head smiled back at you.

The start of a great journey, freedom from constraints. Each day is an adventure. Courage, anything can happen. There is a need to experience new things, to let yourself experience the love you deserve. Be willing to take risks.

A sad, thoughtful smile crosses your lips. You turn the card upside down.

If you disregard the repercussions of your actions, you are the Fool. You cannot see the position you’ve put yourself in. Is everything what it seems to be?

A breath catches in your throat, a wave of nausea hitting you. You scramble for your phone, and dial a number.

Silence, ringing, silence.

“...Yeah…?” Akira sniffles. He’s been crying???

“I want… can we talk… can I come over?”

“It’s late.”

“It’s not, we came home way earlier than usual. You’re just using that as an excuse.” You were feeling a little braver than usual, the spirit of the Fool within you. You heard him thinking, a sigh that came through as static.

“Yeah… fine, I’ll be waiting.” Relief washed over you.

＊

When you knocked on the door after speed-walking to Le Blanc, Sojiro let you in with a warm smile. He obviously didn’t know about your falling out with Akria, yet.

“He’s upstairs,” he gestured, exhaustion evident in his voice. You rushed past, thanking him with a small bow of your head. Only now was the inevitable fear starting to sink in. Akira heard footsteps creaking on the stairs. Sojiro never came up unannounced, and with that realization, his back stiffened. Morgana picked up your scent, excusing himself, passing you on your way up the stairs. He could take a hint.

He stood immediately, stepping toward you, stopping halfway. You shrunk into yourself, unable to meet his eyes.

“Akira… I wanted to talk…” you muttered.

“You said that… about what?” He was more than a little pissed, but he was always one to hide his temper well.

“Can we sit…?” You gestured to his small sofa. It didn’t feel right to sit on the bed. He hesitated, before shuffling over and sitting next to you. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Oh, there were so many things, but he wanted to know what you thought was worth apologizing over. Maybe he wasn’t being fair, he dialed back his attitude a tad.

“For… making you enter into the agreement in the first place. Someone’s affections, their love, their touch and body… it’s not something that can be forced. It should never be pretend.” You felt like the biggest hypocrite ever right now. His head shook a bit in disbelief, blinking hard.

“I wasn’t pretending!” His hands flew to his hair, mussing it. “That was the problem.” He sighed heavily.

“What?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I wasn’t being forced… are you… you must be the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.” He laughed cynically.

“But-”

“Wait, wait, why did you think I ended our” he put air quotes up, “ ‘fake’ relationship.” He needed this clarification, now. For closure, for redemption, to fix things, whatever may come next.

“Because… because I was forcing you to date me! You were uncomfortable?!” You could feel your voice begin to break, tears clawing to escape. You’d never felt so disgusted with yourself as you did right now.

“Are you serious?” He took both of your hands, looking you in the eyes. You nod. “Answer truthfully. Do you have feelings for me? Real ones?” You bit your lip, that feeling of selfish guilt creeping like bile up your throat. You nod again. “This whole time?” Another nod. He releases you, turning away. “Sheesh, maybe I’m the oblivious one here…” he spoke more to himself than to you. You both sat in tense silence, not sure what to do, what to say.

“Akira…”

“It was real to me,” he moved closer, trapping you against the end of the couch.

“Really?” Your heartbeat was going crazy, and he leaned ever so slightly closer, his hand on the back of the couch for support. “I broke up with you because it was hurting me to pretend I didn’t have real feelings for you, and to think you didn’t want me back, not for real. I thought… that you’d always think of me as just some character for your book.”

“No… Akira… had I known you felt this way…” He leaned in further, your noses bumping slightly, clumsily. This time, he felt no discomfort, no hesitation from your side. His heart fluttered in excitement. You could feel his breath on your warm cheeks.

“May I kiss you?” He asked again, a secondary, unspoken question sitting beneath his words.

“Yes.” Your voice was shaky, but you were sure, for once, of what you wanted. His hand went to your back, cradling you into his chest to lay down flat against the couch. With a passion he’d been holding back, he pressed his lips to yours without reservation. You sunk into the warm, plush feeling, tilting your head at a better angle. He kept the kiss soft, shallow, low pressure, looking for you to give him the signal to stop. When your arms reached upward, snaking around his neck and pulling him harder down into you, he groaned softly, barely audible, before passing his tongue over your lips a single time. You parted your lips, allowing him access, and his hand, pale and trembling, came up and found its way under the hem of your shirt, splayed nervously against the smooth skin there.

[lovesupernova25]

Broken Glass

a Quackity Oneshot

warnings: torture (non-explicit), blood, insanity, brief alcohol

i sat down at my computer, blacked out, looked up at 3 am and this was here. please enjoy. (idea from this one comment on this one tiktok that suggested that quackity uses the shape shifting powers some people hc him to have to torment dream. i’ll see if i can find the tiktok!)

~~~ *** ~~~

Quackity knew what broken glass felt like. He knew how it felt slicing up his hands, his face, being kissed into his skin. But this was the first time he knew what it felt like in his soul. Yeah- that's what this feeling was.

Broken glass.

Quackity didn’t turn around when he heard footsteps getting closer. He knew who it was already. No one else would be in this wasteland he’d built, anyways. No one was ever here.

“Q?” The rumble of Sam’s voice was concerned, almost hesitant. Quackity grabbed a bottle from the rack. “Quackity- you said it was urgent. What’s going on?” He turned, and the liquor slammed onto the counter. He might’ve relished the way Sam startled, on a better day. Quackity’s hands found the shot glasses, twisted the cap of the bottle. The neon blue that sloshed from the cup reflected the thunder in his gaze.

“Quackity, it’s still early-” But he tipped his head, knocked back the burning liquor. This time, Sam didn’t jump when the glass crashed down next to his hand. Quackity splayed his palms on the cool granite and leaned across to level his gaze with Sam’s.

“I need to visit the prison, Sam.”

Sam had the good sense to nod.

Maybe this was the wrong way to deal with things. Maybe strapping on armor and sharpening his knives wasn’t a healthy way to process his ex-fiances showing up trying to- what? Apologize? Make things ‘how they used to be’? If that was the case, they really were just mocking him. Nothing would ever be the way it used to.

It ended in a fight, of course. It ended in his already cracking heart fully giving out, splintering into a thousand shards like shattered fvcking glass. It ended in him envying Schlatt, because at least when his heart broke down he got to leave.

Quackity’s stuck here, with this void in his chest that keeps him floating oddly outside his body as Pandora swallows him whole.

They don’t even bother signing the waivers anymore. It would be ridiculous, at this point, especially since Quackity’s fully decked out in armor and tools. He guesses Sam’s just realized Quackity won’t be the reason Dream gets out of the hell they’ve so carefully crafted for him.

Levers, keys. The threshold to the heart of the prison is as claustrophobic as ever, but Quackity embraces the suffocating heat. There’s not much for his mind to wander on, here. There is the wall of lava, and there is the rasp of his boots on obsidian, and there is the rough leather pommel of his sword. There is, on the other side of the fire, a sacrificial lamb. Quackity grins and it hurts as the lava simmers down.

Sam says nothing.

“Dream…” He leans on the butt of his axe, looming, and his ears are still ringing with screams. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier to give me what I want?” He kneels next to the ragged lump of man on the ground and grabs his chin, forces it up. “C’mon… I would leave you alone then, right? I wouldn’t come, wouldn’t have to hurt you- you would get so much peace and quiet… you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Quackity makes his voice honey, his hand gentle. Gods, he thinks he even sees Dream lean into the touch. It’s pitiful, what the admin has become. One of Dream’s acid-green eyes is bloodied and purple, swollen shut, and a cut on his face oozes crimson. His mouth is positively dripping with the stuff, courtesy of Quackity’s pliers and some molars that were just begging to be yanked. He can hear the ragged, wheezing breaths of the man in front of him and Quackity has never felt so sickeningly alive.

“Heh…” Dream flicks his working eye up to hold Quackity’s gaze. “No-” He coughs violently, wheezing and convulsing. The hacking subsides and he forces out; “No peace in death, Big Q. You’ll know that s-soon.”

Quackity’s lip curls. He stands abruptly, taking little satisfaction in the way Dream’s chin cracks against the obsidian.

“You’re pitiful.” This was supposed to help. He thought it did- when he funneled all the glass inside of him into the swing of his axe, the cut of his knife. When the voices in his head were drowned out by the screaming. But Dream was on the ground, bleeding and broken and still acting like he had the upper fvcking hand, and it turned out the glass had grown only sharper.

This isn’t working.

He paces to the back of the cell and yanks a tattered book off the lectern, flipping through it with a scowl. He’s about to chuck the thing in the lava--just to see if it’ll get a reaction out of its’ author--when a name catches his eye. Gingerly, he thumbs back to the page it was written on. Quackity feels so sick he grins when he finds it.

It’s not just one name. It’s hundreds. Some he doesn’t recognize, but most from this server. In fact- it looks like everyone who’s ever stepped foot in Dream’s land has been scrawled on the black-bleeding page. Quackity even thinks he sees his own name in there somewhere. They cover the page almost entirely in ink, written and rewritten and scribbled over each other.

George, Sapnap, Karl, Tommy. Tommy seems to be in there a lot.

Dream must have sat here for hours, scribbling the names of people he would never see again, alone in his personal hell. It’s sick. And something in the back of Quackity’s mind sparks.

“Dream,” He says, as the start of an idea appears. “How would you like to see your friends again?” He sees the confusion in the prisoner’s eyes and has to fight to keep from grinning. “Or… your old friends, I suppose. But I bet they still care about you, don’t you think?” He sets the book down, pacing towards the heap of blood-streaked orange jumpsuit with mock sincerity plastered over his face. His mouth twitches at the look in Dream’s eyes. There’s fear, suspicion, pain… but also, delightfully, hope. He can see Dream trying to crush it, but it’s there. Gods, Quackity could get drunk on that look. Maybe he already is.

“How do you think,” He leans over Dream, hands folded behind his back. “They would feel about you if they saw you now?”

Quackity really is grinning now. The axe wasn’t working, the knives weren’t working, the pliers only made Dream more determined. It was time for a new tactic. He feels that spark in the back of his mind and fans it, turning away from Dream as it grows. He hasn’t dipped into this ability for a long time--people don’t much like his kind--but the only person to see him now is barely human himself. Quackity closes his eyes as the fire washes over him.

When he turns around, he almost breaks character at the shock in Dream’s eyes.

“George?”

There’s so much raw hurt in his voice- gods, why didn’t he think of this sooner?

“Dream…” Quackity says in George’s voice. “Gods… what happened to you?”

“No… how- George-”

“I mean, everybody says you deserved it.” Quackity makes sure the revulsion is clear on his--George’s--face as he steps closer. “I guess you did… Still, though… this is a new low for you.” Dream is actually trying to push himself up now, trembling on wounded arms. “I mean, don’t you remember how things used to be? When we were all together? And now you’re… this. Not to be rude, Dream, but it’s kind of no wonder no one’s broken you out.”

“Stop, you’re… you’re not even real, I…” Dream screws his eyes shut, chest heaving. Aw. It looks like he’s starting to catch on.

“We were all happy, before.” He continues, letting the glass, the anger, slip back into his voice. “Like a family. And then you ruined it. All you’ve ever been is a parasite- it’s just amazing we didn’t notice sooner.” Quackity snarls with George’s face and he knows Dream can’t separate the illusion from reality. “You know what everyone says? They say good fvcking riddance.” Quackity--George--takes a step toward Dream with every word, until he’s sneering directly down at him. “I used to defend you. Down to the very end, I’d defend everything you did- all the wars, all the hurt, broken promises and broken hearts. I was loyal to you.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Not anymore. Now, I say good riddance with the rest of them.”

Quackity doesn’t know much about George and Dream’s history, but he knew they were close. And Dream, for all his boasting about cutting ties, has never truly let go. “I loved you, Dream. And look where it got us. You’re bleeding out in a cell, alone and powerless, and I…” Quackity turns. It’s a damn good thing he’s an amazing actor, or the look on Dream’s face might just make him lose it. It’s the same look he’s seen on just three people’s faces before; three people with worthless rings and broken promises to tie them together.

(“Didn’t you ever love us?”)

But Dream was right about one thing. Attachments are dangerous. And Quackity can wield them like a sword.

“I’m leaving. I don’t need you, Dream. And neither does anyone else.” His lip curls. “You’re worthless, Clay. I hope you rot.”

And the curtain falls.

Dream has pushed himself against a chest by now, heaving and trembling.

“Stop. Stop this, you’re not him, you’re not-” Another coughing fit seizes him and he hacks up blood.

“Wasn’t it a good performance, though? I think I was spot on, Clay.” Quackity leers, in his own voice now. Gods, that was exhilarating.

Dream rests his forehead against the chest, face contorted. “What do you want?” It sounds almost like a sob. Quackity’s smile drops.

“Oh, you know exactly what I want, Dream. You know exactly why I’m still here, and why you can barely stand.” He cocks his head, lip twitching up into a smile. There are a thousand names scrawled into that book, all of them knives sharpened to cut. Quackity’s just gotten started. “Let's see if someone else could encourage you more.”

Dream barely has time to look afraid before the fire has washed over Quackity again.

Lights, camera, action.

“...You always wanted to be remembered, huh.” Sapnap’s voice says. Dream closes his eyes, breath hitching. “You’d always play the hero, when we were kids. Make George and I be the villains every time.” His eyes have been on the ground, but he lifts them now, stares down the figure in the corner. “Look where that fvcking got us.” And this hurts both of them, Quackity knows- because he knows Sapnap’s voice, his mannerisms, the way he sounds when he’s devastated and the way he sounds when he wants to burn the world with rage. Slipping into his skin is as easy as breathing and feels like suffocating all at once.

“You promised me- you promised me this would be our world. That we’d stay together, that we’d finally be happy.” And it is too easy to let that heartbreak bleed into his voice, sprinkle it with the rage and hate of wasted memories.

(“You promised me we’d be happy together.”)

He paces towards Dream with a glare like wildfire. “Well guess what, Dream. I am happy now. This whole server is happier now.” Quackity yanks the man in the orange jumpsuit up by the collar and snarls at his whimper of pain. “Without you. Without your sick fvcking games, without your wars, without your broken promises!” He’s shouting now, and he can see the whites of Dream’s eyes, like a horse near a fire. Quackity drops him with Sapnap’s hands like a rat he’d been holding by the tail. “Do you remember the promises you’d make, Dream?”

And now Quackity feels himself shifting again, almost involuntarily. His voice pitches higher and demonic horns scrape the obsidian above them. “You promised me peace.” Quackity says in BBH’s voice. “You said we’d be safe, that we’d win the wars!” It’s almost sickening to take the form of someone whose mind he knows is long gone. Worth it, though, to watch Dream squirm. “Is this what peace looks like to you, Dream? I can’t even remember what your face looks like!” There’s desperation in his voice, though Quackity doesn’t even know if what he’s saying is true. For all he knows it could be. “I can’t remember,” He takes a step towards Dream, glowing eyes wide with horror “What my own face looks like.”

“Bad-” Dream’s voice is almost pleading. He doesn’t want to hear this.

Good.

"Every time I look in the mirror-” Quackity’s breath hitches, just for dramatic effect. “All I see is red. Crimson. I’m poisoned, Dream. Because that’s what this place does to people.” The fire is back, transforming him. Quackity doesn’t even try to control it this time.

“That’s what you do to people.” Ponk’s voice rings throughout the cell.

“You poison them.” Alyssa.

“You tear them down.” Fundy.

“You think you’re so powerful,” Punz.

“But in reality-” Skeppy.

“You’re. Just. A. Parasite.” Karl hisses at the god on the floor who bleeds red regret instead of ichor.

Quackity doesn’t know where the words are coming from, now.

(“This country- it’s like a parasite, Q!”)

His breaths come ragged. When the fire sweeps through him again, Quackity nearly burns away himself.

Sapnap’s voice is tired when he speaks with it.

“You were never the hero, Dream. Turns out, you were never even part of the story.”

And Dream is left a crumpled mess of grief and blood at his feet as the fire dies to ashes.

Quackity’s tired when he leaves the cell that evening. It’s the bone-deep exhaustion that comes from more than lack of sleep, and it drags at his limbs. Sam does not look at him, and Quackity wonders if he knows what horrors were used in that cell today. He somehow can’t bring himself to care.

It was cruel, he knows. He slipped into their skin and cut Dream to shreds with the broken glass at his fingertips, ripped open his soul instead of his flesh and took pleasure in just tearing something down. It was cruel, but so is (was) Dream, and so is the world he created. Everyone gets cut and everyone bleeds, and the only thing to do is hope that your weapon is sharper than theirs. He’s had that lesson seared into his mind and cut into his skin too many times. So today when Quackity leaves a trembling mess behind the wall of fire, he cannot see Sam’s eyes- but if he could, he thinks they would hold something like fear.

So he steps out into the night, and he smiles, sharp and painful as broken glass.

[hockeylvr59]

Hi. Number 1: taking a rain walk with cale. You can choose the time. Thank you !

So with all the UMass content I've been digging up I decided to take a trip back in time with this one. So we're setting this fall 2018 when Cale was a sophomore at UMass. I'm lowkey in love with this one. Big thanks to @bqstqnbruin for the help with this plot concept. (1,610 words)

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Ellie was so going to owe you for this. Dodging beer spilling out of a cup, you pushed your way through the crowded frat house, wincing as the volume of the music somehow got even louder. Your roommate Ellie had made plans to meet a guy here tonight and she’d pleaded with you to come with her in case he didn’t show or things didn’t turn out how she expected. But, as soon as she had spotted him in the crowd upon your arrival, she had disappeared and you hadn’t seen her since. That had been nearly two hours ago. Like a good friend you’d sent her a text twenty minutes or so ago checking in and you had just gotten a reply of a thumbs up and that they had left to go to a diner off-campus.

Of course, they had. A heads-up text would have been nice.

Though you wanted to be mad at her, it was hard to be when you knew how excited she had been for this date. Still, a packed frat house on a Friday night was one of the last places you wanted to spend your time. Trying to weave your way toward the door, you tripped over something and landed smack against a solid chest. A pair of hands quickly reacted, catching you and helping you regain your balance. Quickly you mumbled an apology, though it wasn’t your fault there was a drunk person sleeping on the floor with their leg in the middle of the path.

“No worries, you okay?” A deep voice questioned, causing you to look up. When you did, your eyes met a pair of reddened cheeks that were familiar to anyone on campus who didn’t live under a rock.

Cale Makar.

The hockey team’s superstar defenseman who was back for his second season despite the chance to make the jump to the NHL.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” You stated, snapping out of your daze. “Just need to get out of here.”

Cale’s gaze softened in concern and he quickly worked using his taller frame to clear a path for you until you reached the slightly less crowded front porch. It was still loud outside but at least you didn’t have to scream to hear yourself think. Slowing, you leaned against a railing just trying to catch your breath and rid your senses of some of the stench of cheap alcohol. You didn’t expect him to stay close so when he leaned against the railing beside you, you were slightly surprised.

“Did we have Western Thought together last fall?” He asked after a moment, the question catching you off guard. You thought back to your schedule last year and then bit your lip considering that query.

“Was that Tuesday/Thursday morning, Herter Hall?” Cale must have nodded because he spoke again a moment later, a smile evident in his voice.

“I thought you looked familiar.” He mused, offering out a hand. “Cale.” He greeted, introducing himself officially. Introducing yourself in return, you asked him what he had thought about the ridiculous question that had been on the final for that class. You may not remember much but that question had screwed over half the class and you certainly hadn’t forgotten the stress you’d felt waiting for grades to drop after that exam.

That question sparked an entire conversation and before you knew it, it was almost 1am.

“I should really head back to my dorm.” You admitted a bit reluctantly. “Thanks for the chat and making this party not a total bust for me.” You joked, looking up at the sky which was starting to look like rain.

“What dorm are you in?” Cale asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Grayson.” You replied with a shrug even as Cale’s eyes went a little wide.

“I’ll walk you.” He immediately declared.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.” You assured him. Grayson was all the way across campus and you weren’t sure where he was living.

“I’ll walk you,” Cale repeated, signaling that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “It’s late and you shouldn’t walk across campus by yourself, not with all these idiots around.” The way he phrased his explanation showed that he knew you could handle yourself but that didn’t mean that you should have to.

“Fine. Thank you.” You declared, shooting him a slightly exasperated look. Cale gave you a semi-dimpled smile and motioned for you to lead the way. As you walked toward the admin building and fine arts center you continued chatting about everything and nothing all at once. Conversation came easy and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were a bit taken at how smart Cale was.

You had reached the western edge of the pond, with the intention of cutting across the northern shore to make your way to your residential area, when a loud boom sounded across the sky out of nowhere. Before you could even react, torrential rain was pelting you both, soaking you to the bone. Quickly, Cale herded you over toward the library and inside. The building was quiet as he guided you up to one of the study floors murmuring that you should wait out some of the heavy rain. Knowing that you really should get home and to bed, you wanted to protest but then a flash of lightning cracked across the sky. Maybe you should wait out the storm a little bit.

Moving into a study room overlooking the pond, you shivered slightly from the air conditioning blowing through the building.

“Come here,” Cale murmured from the spot on the floor where he had settled. For a moment you eyed the chairs but then decided maybe you shouldn’t get them soaked too and the floor was probably a better option. Though you sat with some space between you and Cale, it wasn’t long before he was tugging you closer murmuring that he can’t keep you warm if you’re so far away. With another chill racing up your spine, you shifted to press against him, sighing softly at the warmth he radiated even through wet clothes.

The two of you sat in silence for a while before you heard Cale murmur your name softly.

“Yeah?” You questioned, trying not to yawn.

“Did you know that the architect of this building forgot to account for the weight of the books in his plans and that’s why only every other floor has them?” Cale stated.

“One that was totally random.” You teased softly. “Two, that’s 1000% a myth.”

When you peeked up at Cale, his cheeks were even pinker than before and they matched his lips as he did this little mindless tick you had picked up on already.

“Totally true.” He defends softly, making you giggle slightly.

“It’s not but that’s okay, you aren’t the first person to buy that myth.” You assured him. Though you didn’t notice, Cale’s face fell into a bit of a frown and he murmured under his breath that there goes trying to impress you.

Watching the rain again, you couldn’t help but yawn. Slowly your head drifted down to rest against Cale’s shoulder and you must have dozed off because the next thing you knew, Cale was murmuring your name again, trying to wake you.

“C’mon sleepy. The rain has let up a bit. This is probably our best chance to get you home.” He explained, urging you to sit up before he moved from underneath you and then pulled you up onto your feet.

Leaving the library, you started walking again through the rain, Cale chattering non-stop. You were sure it was his attempt to keep you awake and you appreciated it. At the same time though, his voice was so soothing, you almost wanted to curl right back up against his shoulder and fall asleep while he talked to you.

By the time you finally reached your dorm, it was nearly 2:30 in the morning. With the rain, a normal half-hour walk had taken three times as long. Standing in a sheltered overhang, you turned to thank Cale for making sure you got home safely.

“Definitely the most interesting first date I think I’ve been on,” Cale replied with a tired smile, his eyes still somehow bright. When your brain processed his words, your jaw dropped.

“Date?” You prodded causing Cale to hum and shrug, glancing down at his watch.

“I mean we’ve spent the last three and a half hours together talking and walking through campus. Pretty sure we can call that a date.” He insisted. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach and you ran your fingers through your wet hair. Cale was calling this a date. That was...wow.

“A date huh…” You finally breathed. “Guess that means I better get a good night kiss. Though technically it’s definitely early morning now.” Cale’s fingers slid around your waist to press against your lower back gently as he crowded closer into your space and after a moment of his eyes searching yours, he leaned down for a kiss, his lips pressing against yours chastely but firmly.

One kiss turned into two and then three before your yawning caused Cale to pull away. After asking for your number so he could take you on a non-rain date, he kissed your cheek and murmured for you to go take a warm shower, put on dry clothes, and then get some sleep.

Your lips still tingled slightly as you climbed into bed and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were the one that was going to have to owe Ellie.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

Sneaking Glances

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Anon asked:  Hello my happiness how are you all? I didn't know youre taking requests 😵😵 can you write for tobirama crossing paths with a Kunoichi from another leaf? She was taking a shower in a river and do as you wish! Can you make it nsfw? Thank you soooooooo much! 💖 Lots of love 👌👏

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Hello anon, and thank you for requesting with us! I hope you enjoy this scenario! And thank you so much for liking our writing! 

Warning/tags: river sex, sneaking peeks, outdoor dirty time

If you are not of age, PLEASE DO NOT READ

>Admin 𝕋

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 Soaring through the trees, Tobirama has been on the move for days now. A mission that was only a week long, turned out to be twice that much, spanning to about two weeks, making Tobirama want to rip his hair out. But, finally, he was done with said mission and was heading home. Though, he was getting quite tired, having been jumping from tree to tree for six hours straight. He didn’t want to tired himself, lest he passes out and never makes it home. His brother would worry too much if that happened.

As he thought about stopping for a moment, he spotted a river close by, the water shining with sunlight, clear and clean. Sighing in relief, Tobirama slowed his pace and dropped from the high branches to the hard ground. Taking a break and drinking some clean river water sounded amazing, now that he was no longer running. And so, he tiredly walked to the the stream, thinking about how delicious the water will be until--

 He saw someone he knew. Someone from a different village, a kunoichi he never thought he would see again. Someone that made his heart feel like it was constricting every time he saw her, her smile, and confidence. 

(y/n) was in the stream, her hair wet, and her body naked as she bathed in the warm rays of the sun. She had been travelling for far too long without cleaning herself, and it would have been a few more days until she could reach the next hotel. But, when she saw the glisten of the river, she was excited to strip off her clothes and dive right in to clean off all the grime and stench of the past week of travel. (y/n) didn’t even think about the fact that someone could run into her cleaning her body and sneak glances at it, like some sort of pervert.

Like Tobirama was doing right now. He was hiding in the bushes, trying to be as quiet as possible as he watched (y/n) shine, her body covered with water. He couldn’t see a lot, though, seeing as her back was to him. But, it wasn’t all for naught, his own body shivering with lust as he gazed down to her round and defined ass. 

When they met, it was only for two days. He was in her home village, sending a message to their elders. Something about an alliance, though he couldn’t be too positive; he couldn’t be bothered to care much. Especially since the attendant kunoichi that was showing him around was her. She didn’t speak much, but Tobirama knew that she thought he was attractive. It was written all over her face. And the sentiment was mutual. It was tragic that Tobirama had to leave the next day.

So, when he saw her in the river, cleaning herself, he was stricken with surprise, and without thinking he started to walk over to the stream, clearing his throat to catch her attention.

(y/n) whirled around, and as she saw the white haired man, she yelped and dove under the under, covering her breasts from his sight. “Master Tobirama?! W-what are you doing here?” she asked in an astonishing tone, eyeing her surroundings to see if there was anybody else with him.

“Oh, I was just on my way home, and I saw you, and I just kind of. Stopped. To see you.” Tobirama mumbled, crossing his arms. (y/n) looked up and down and saw how his posture clearly indicated he was trying to hide something.

“Yeah, and so you thought you would just stop and see me, naked and blatantly bathing. So, you’re a pervert.” she stated, an eyebrow raised. Tobirama blinked rapidly and spluttered, trying to defend himself, but it was exactly how it looks.

Oh my god, he really was a pervert. Sighing out in defeat, his shoulders drooping, Tobirama looked down at the grass, making sure not to look at her body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to seem like that. I just--I saw you and my body just moved on its own.” he told her, surprising. Of course, she was only joking. She didn’t mind him looking, seeing as she felt some great chemistry between them when he was in her hometown. 

“I don’t really mind. I-I mean, I thought that since we had this thing going on when you were in my village--”

“Oh, yes, I felt it too.” he interrupted, suddenly getting a bit energetic and walking closer to the water, to her. He didn’t realize he had gotten too close and accidentally soaked his shoes. She giggled at him, beginning to relax in his presence. 

“Well, I’m glad you felt the same way.” (y/n) swam through the water until her chest was exposed to him, only her lower half still in the river. Tobirama went wide eyed and tried not to stare, but it was difficult. All he wanted to do was stare. “You’re pretty stubborn, you know that.”

“I get told that by my brother a lot.” he muttered, feeling his chest tighten as (y/n) got closer. He saw her smile, and he could have sworn his heart had stopped beating. 

“Hmmmm, if your aren’t busy, would you like to join me?” (y/n) asked, casually wrapping her arms around Tobirama’s neck. It was only then did he see that she was fully out of the water, her whole body exposed. She didn’t seem like she was embarrassed anymore, in fact, it seemed like she was the opposite of embarrassed, though Tobirama couldn’t pin what it was. It’s like her whole demeanor changed. With the might of a thousand men, Tobirama did his best to  answer her. 

“I, uhm, I would like that. If you don’t mind.” he responded, making her chuckle. And without another word, she started to take undress the man in front of her, showing off his broad and muscled chest and defined arms. She could feel her cheeks getting hot as she continued to disrobe him until he was in all but his underwear. 

(y/n) she pointed to them and said, “You can do that one, or keep them on, though I don’t recommend it.” She waded back into the water until it hit her waist and turned around to watch Tobirama slowly follow after her. He had taken his underwear off, now completely naked for (y/n) to see. And as he walked into the water, she stared unabashedly at Tobirama’s hard on. “It seems like you are quite excited.” she stated pointing down to his dick. 

“How could I not when I have such a beautiful person in front of me.” the man said with conviction, causing (y/n) to blush. He came closer to her, to where their bodies’ were almost touching. She could feel his heat from his skin, and the way his eyes screamed that he wanted to touch her ;it was making her core ache and her knees weak. And so very slowly, Tobirama, without breaking eye contact, he lifted his hands and wrapped one around (y/n)’s waist and the other on her cheek. She felt like her skin was on fire, where he was touching her, and she watched as his face got closer to hers until their noses touched. 

When their lips connected it felt like fireworks were going off in the distance, the feel of his lips on hers making her want to moan loudly. She responded tenfold, putting her hands around his sternum and hugged him closer to her body, feeling his erect cock on her thigh. Her heart was racing as they made out, letting their tongues touch, while they both roamed each other’s body. She heard Tobirama grunt and it immediately made her wet, turning her on immensely. The kisses were getting hungrier now, moving fast and hungry. She could feel his hard dick starting to rub against her thigh trying to get that sweet friction, that wonderful pleasure.

Suddenly, Tobirama lifted her leg and put it on his hip, making his cock slide right in between her lips, causing her to moan into the kiss. He started to move his hips, back and forth, while gripping her leg to keep it in place. “Master Tobi--” (y/n) moaned, letting her head fall back, trusting the man to keep her up.

He wanted to be inside her, to feel her around him, to hear her scream his name as she took him with ease. He wanted to hold her and connect with her.

Tobirama started to curl around (y/n), trying to get her closer to his body, and as he was doing so, his cock was starting to slide into her aching pussy, causing her groan wantonly, indicating that she is loving every second of him inserting his dick into her. When he was fully inside, he stayed there for a second, letting her adjust. “You can move now, Master Tobirama.” she whispered to him. 

With a low growl he muttered to her, “After I’m done, you won’t be able to walk.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 128

This is another chapter that I started with one intention and it kind of dragged me the other way. I started with what Miys says at the beginning as a kernel, and...

Yeah, avoiding spoilers, you get...*waves frantically* this.  Which I am excited about seeing where it goes.

Kudos to @baelpenrose​ and @mustachebatarts​ for this chapter. You’ll both understand when you read it :)

Tyche nodded sleepily as Alistair handed her a cup of coffee, mirroring my own struggle to wake up.  It was the beginning of Alpha shift - roughly 6:30am Terran Pacific NorthAm time - and we were starting our week with an extremely rare mission brief. Parvati and Hannah seemed either anxious or excited - possibly a combination - as the last brief they had received was ship-wide when we announced the lighting changes. Neither of them had ever been in one of the Council-only meetings that preceded such announcements.

Due to the growth on the Council - both among administrators and among Mentees - it wasn’t feasible to hold this meeting face to face in the room ordinarily used for such things. As a result, each Councilor was joining from their respective office, along with auxiliary staff who needed to be privy to the information discussed. For someone like Grey, that would be themself, Antoine, and their current admin, Nora. In my case, it was everyone who reported to my office.

“Has everyone joined?” I asked in my role as Parliamentarian for this meeting.  No one liked the position, so it rotated.

“Still waiting on Huynh, Charly, and Ivan,” Eino replied.

“We’re here!” an entirely-too-awake voice greeted.

Ignoring the laugh that Alistair and Hannah were suppressing, I forged ahead. “That’s everyone then. Good Morning, Council. Today is January 23rd, 2051 Terran-relative time, 45th day of Von cold season Year four Pre-Colony. We are currently two Terran years from Von. Miys has requested that we gather this morning for an important mission update so that we can prepare. Miys, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Wisdom. Good day, Human Council.” I couldn’t tell if Miys had practiced or was operating on multiple minds, but the resemblance to a human public-speaker was startling. “As stated by Councilor Wisdom, the Yjq is currently two Terran years from your destination. We requested to address you in order to advise that navigational adjustments will be necessary within one Terran year of the planet you call Von.”

Murmurs erupted on the conference, but no one actually interrupted, so Miys continued. “Due to the density of systems in this portion of the Galaxy, the final Terran year of the journey cannot be made at our current speed.  The Yjq will need to drop out of relativistic space and complete the remaining leg in realspace.”

“How does this immediately impact the human population?” Grey asked first, hardly letting Miys finish their statement.

“With the sensors operational, there should be no noticeable difference in the transition,” came the answer. “However, there will be the introduction of potential physical hazards once we are in realspace.”

After a pause of silence, Xiomara spoke up. “Are you talking about the potential of being attacked?”

“Galactic law prohibits acts of violence against aide or rescue vessels.”

I heard an explosive snort before an extremely dry voice joined in. “Miys, that is the opposite of an answer,” Evania argued. “And we all know that criminals are famous for their adherence to the letter of the law.”

An alert chirped on my data band, and I almost choked when I saw Arthur’s message: “Oh, I LIKE her…”

“Once we are no longer in relativistic space, the Yjq is due to rendezvous with an Ekomari escort within thirty Terran days.”

“And what is the tactical benefit of that escort?” Evan pushed.

Rather than Miys, Charly responded. “Ekomari are very aggressive, but even more bound by a code of honor.  They view preying on the weak - including rescue and aide vessels - the most disgusting behavior imaginable.  This extends to the point of stopping their own attacks once the enemy is considered defeated.”

“Only an extremely overconfident or suicidal crew would try to go up against an Ekomari squadron that is escorting us,” Arthur finished.

“That is satisfactory. No objections.”

Approval in her tone, Xiomara launched the next question. “What about the thirty days we won’t have an escort? What is normally done on that leg of the journey?”

“Optimally, there is no such period during such a relocation.” I heard every person in my office inhale with dread at that statement. “During this time, there is always an increased concern that pirates and scavengers will attack in an attempt to be the first beings with artifacts from the newly present species.”

“Souvenirs… They want us for souvenirs…” Tyche muttered.

“We will discuss our options once we have all the information,” I stated loudly, trying to keep the meeting going before everyone panicked. “Miys, what other information do we need to know about the final year of the journey?”

“Once we are in realspace, long distance scans and data mining operations will begin for more accurate information regarding Von.  This information will be communicated to the entire Council so that any changes or updates to colony plans may be adjusted and finalized.  That is all for now.”

“Thank you Miys. You may remain in the meeting, as we may need your input regarding Galactic regulations, statistics, or laws.”

“Of course, Wisdom.”

I nodded and took a deep breath. “Xiomara, I’m pretty sure that you and Evan have a lot to say on the matter at hand.  Are there any objections to Health and Safety taking the floor?”

After a round of negatives, I conceded the floor. “Thank you, Sophia. Council, clearly there is a pressing matter in our future, here at the end of a tumultuous era, just as our goal is in sight. We cannot allow thirty days of risk to derail us now. For all that we have striven to show humanity as capable of peace and change, we now need to reach down to the roots of our very existence and ensure that we will not be undefended in that month.”

“Miys, the Ark is equipped with scouting probes and evacuation shuttles,” Evan followed. “What are the chances that we can repurpose those into our own small squadron for defensive purposes.”

“Doing such would invalidate the protection the Yjq is afforded by Galactic Law.”

“Excuse me, what!?” I sputtered, completely caught off guard.

“Hospital ships are only protected so long as they are incapable of defense, to prevent opposing forces from attacking each other under the guise of aide,” Charly explained in a mournful tone.

Evan and I groaned heavily. “At least tell me that the odds of any attackers completely blowing up the ship are low?”

“They would only be able to do so by detonating our drives from the inside.  To do so from the exterior would require more force than a coronal ejection from a white dwarf star.”

That was reassuring at least.

“So we would be safe as long as they don’t board the ship,” Arthur acknowledged.  I could see where his next question was going, but Evan beat him to it by a mile.

“Since we are not Hujylsogox, and are only the cargo of the Ark, there are no prohibitions against us defending ourselves in the event of a forced boarding, correct? Only you, yourself, would not be able to fight back.”

“This is correct, Commander Josue. I am not allowed to interfere in such a matter.”

Interesting wording.  Noah was telling us, as officially as allowed, that it would not fight the intruders, but also would not stop us from any actions we took. I smiled as I felt a confirming nudge in the back of my mind.

“Well, those weapons demonstrations were certainly not just for fun,” Huynh growled.  I could hear Charly cackling in the background before he confirmed to her that, yes, she can play with the construction exos.

“Let’s be organized about this,” Xiomara insisted. “For those comfortable with helping defend, we need to set up anti-boarding drills to start six months out at the latest. For those on the ship who are against violence, sort them into who can provide medical aid and who needs to do evacuation drills.  Eino, Arthur - can you assist Sophia’s team with that?”

“We can,” Eino confirmed, echoed by Arthur.

Parvati and Hannah glanced at each other silently before the former jumped in. “I recommend that at least one person with weapons training is assigned to each evacuation group, as a worst case defense.”

“I second that,” Xiomara agreed in a clipped tone. “Any objections?” A brief, silent pause. “Good. Add that to the strategy.”

“Miys, we need a list of what species are most likely to be found on pirate vessels.  Knowing their biology will go a long way to developing defense strategies,” Arthur requested.

“I like it,” Evan approved. “Ekomari may be honorable, but humanity has survived this long because we aren’t ashamed of taking cheap shots.”

“It is safe to assume that boarding parties will not have electromagnetic vision, as it has been advised that it is quite rare in the galaxy,” Grey pointed out. “We can use this to our advantage, most likely.”

“If we’re lucky to be in the light part of the cycle…” Tyche muttered.

“Administrator Reid has a point,” Pranav admitted, startling her. “If we are in the dark part of the cycle, we will be at a distinct disadvantage.”

“The lights are artificial,” Huynh sighed. “We can turn them on.”

“If I may interject,” Miys responded. “It is not as simple as you seem to believe to increase the light emitters on the entire Ark, Councilor Huynh.  The drain on the ship engines could permanently damage them.”

I could feel Charly’s eyes rolling in my soul when she picked up from there. “We can try to make some plans for that contingency. Pranav does have a point.”

“So that’s anti-boarding drills, evacuation drills, aid teams, threat assessment, and at least a start on evaluating where we stand from a defensive perspective. Once Sophia, Eino, and their offices coordinate who is which group, we’ll pull back up to determine who will be leading which initiatives,” Xiomara recapped. “Sophia, anything else we need to cover?”

“I think that’s the priorities right now,” I confirmed, effectively ending the meeting.  Once I closed out the channel, I turned to those in my office. “So, how do we feel about this?”

“Like you are going to be in one of the evacuation groups, stuffed as far back in the ship as possible,” Tyche stated drily.

“If we get boarded,” I pointed out. “It may not happen.”

“Madam Reid, you are on this ship.”

I scowled at Alistair before turning to Parvati and Hannah. “Reach out to Arthur and Eino to schedule that meeting.”

Hannah looked unsure. “Why are they being loaned to us for this? Eino’s a Councillor.”

The door of my office hissed open and the rhythmic thud of boots walked in. “Because your office, specifically Tyche, handles all ship staffing, while I am being used for physical ability assessments, and Eino literally has nothing to do as head of Education in all this.” Arthur nodded his head in thanks when Alistair handed him tea.

I just pointed at him and nodded. “Besides, this way Xiomara is indirectly involved.” I glanced at Parvati before winking. “It was a clever move, I have to admit.”

Parvati smiled and shook her head. “I can’t even say you’re wrong. That’s exactly why she did it, honestly, on all counts.”

“And that is part of it, too.” Tyche waved. “Work more closely with your fellow future Councillors, and you learn to read what they aren’t saying.  Our office works very closely with Xio’s and Grey’s, so we have to know how best to keep that going.”

Arthur just held his arms wide and shrugged. “I have to respect Xiomara’s tendency to keep her fingers on all pulses.  She’s almost as bad as Sophia that way.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true,” Alistair sighed. “You are profoundly nosy.”

Hannah groaned and threw her head back. “We are never going to be on the Council at this rate.”

“Excuse me?? That’s the point of all this!” I gestured around my office energetically.

“Yes, because you will totally retire,” Hannah said slowly, nodding her head like I was a toddler. “Of course you will, Sophia. We all know it…”

Parvati snickered, covering it badly. Arthur gave me a pointed look, and I could hear him repeating ‘obsessive, compulsive perfectionist’.

I was saved, for certain, weird values of salvation, by Tyche.  She just glanced down at her nails, studying them, before calmly glancing at me. “Charly is dangerously close to getting approval from Sebastian for her proposal of kink night at the Undine.  Think really hard if you want to be on the Council for that, Sophia.  It would be an event, meaning it would come to this office.”

“Yep, retiring soon,” I squeaked.  Laughter erupted around me as my face heated up. “I’m all for sex positivity, but I just can’t fathom the logistics of that. Nope. Not gonna be me. Y’all have fun. Enjoy. All yours.”

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[oneoftheextras]

new plan | one

masterlist  | tip jar

testing an Enji fic, if you don’t like him move along, but i’m here for it

also, the quirk i’m giving the reader is cool as shit so stay for that at least

warnings: 18+ themes but no smut, Endeavour, power dynamic, slow burn

When you had applied to all the hero agencies in Musutafu you had no idea that any of them would have said yes to you, being a young upstart who had barely made a name for themselves in the last 3 years of being an independent hero, you thought you were going to receive letters telling you to get lost or no response at all.

When you’d opened your apartment mailbox to see several letters, all of them showing and interest in taking you on, you were overwhelmed. 

You had to be tactical about which one you signed with, first impressions mattered and it seemed like a no-brainer to reply to the Number One Hero’s agency.

To sign with Endeavour’s agency was like getting a level boost, their PR team was amazing at teasing new evens and making sure everyone within the agency got noticed, there wasn’t one Hero working for him that wasn’t in the top 20. 

You had called their recruitment team within 24 hours and solidified an interview with some of the higher-ups of the agency - a part of you wondered if Endeavour himself was going to be there, but he wasn’t.

But here you were. Standing at the reception of the agency, dressed in your best shirt and a pair of black trousers with very thin white lines down them, watching the blonde haired lady on the other side of the desk printing out your name tag. She looked you up and down from the side of her eye.

Hopefully not everyone here would be as cold as her, otherwise you might have to relinquish your contract early, which was never good for publicity. It made you seem non-committal and difficult.

As you waited patiently for your tiny piece of plastic to be printed, you thought over the absolute panic you had that morning, wanting to make sure you were prepared for every situation but also not wanting to seem as though you were being a suck up at the same time. You’d completely forgotten to ask during the acceptance call what the dress code was - or even if there was one.

To pay it safe you’d opted to wear normal office wear and you’d folded up your hero costume in your bag, along with some stationary and your laptop, you weren’t sure just how much of this job was going to be admin based.

“Hey, you must be the newbie!” A voice called from the elevator door, you glanced towards the sound, praying that they were talking to someone else, you really didn’t want the label of ‘newbie’. But alas, they were looking at you directly in the eyes. “Hey” you said back in a voice that attempted to be charismatic and calm, but actually came out as a timid squeak.

The woman walking towards you was very tall and beautiful, she extended her hand and introduced herself, shaking her hand as confidently as you could you did the same. At that moment, the receptionist handed you your name tag and you barely had time to thank her before you were being dragged towards the elevator.

There was some small talk between the two of you on the ride up, you had to give it to her, she was trying to be friendly at least and you had started to feel a bit more at ease with the situation. “Are you excited?” She asked you, her eyes seemed like they wanted to you answer honestly, so you did “This is my first time working for an agency, so yeah, you could say I’m excited” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Nervous?” She grimaced at you, not in a condescending way, more of an understanding and sympathetic way. “You have no idea” you breathed out and let your shoulder’s fall forward slightly, feeling as though you could confide in this person. “Oh I do” she smiled, “I was in your position once, but you’re lucky, you have a quirk so it’ll be unlikely you’ll fail the initiation” she said casually as though that didn’t send a lightening bolt of fear through your spine.

“The what?” You were unsure if you wanted to know what she was talking about but you couldn’t stop the question leaving your mouth, all she did was laugh and put her hand on your shoulder “Don’t worry about it, the worst part is meeting Endeavour, if you can get through that you can get through the rest”. It was almost like she was trying to make you freak out.

Before you could ask any more questions the elevator doors opened, “I’ll take you to him now” she gestured for you to follow her. You were happy that you’d had enough experience walking in heels, otherwise the shaking in your legs would have caused your face to become friends with the ground the moment you decided to take a step forward.

Every time you pressed your shoe into the invisible track that she was leaving, your heart rate increased by 20 beats per minute, if you didn’t know better you would think that you’re having a heart attack.

When she stopped at a oak wood door you thought you were going to vomit. Her delicate fingers tapped a gentle rhythm onto the wood and a voice from inside shouted back to enter, she went ahead and opened the door for you, announcing who you were before nodding at you to enter.

First impressions matter, first impressions matter, first impressions matter - that was all you could think of as you entered the room.

The door closed behind you and suddenly you were met with the reality of where you were and what was happening. In front of you was the Number Two Hero ‘Hawks’, leaning against a huge dark wood desk, and sitting in a black leather chair behind said desk was the Number One Hero ‘Endeavour’. Your throat was dry, you tried to swallow some saliva but it was so thick that it was no help at all.

Only a second had passed but it felt like forever before someone spoke, strangely you found it to be you “Hi” you said meekly, extending your fingers out into a tiny wave. “Hey” Hawks said, moving his chin upwards sharply in a backwards nodding motion. He seemed friendly at least.

Endeavour, however, had that same scowl on his face that he always did and his arms were folded over his chest as though he was already disapproving you. “Is that your Hero Suit?” He asked, there was no hello or introduction-not that he needed one, “Um, no” you muttered slyly, subconsciously tugging at your tucked in work shirt, “I have it in my bag though” you started to dig through your bag, rudely breaking your attention away from the two men.

“Get dressed and then go to the training centre” Endeavour waved his hand at you as a way to tell you to leave, you looked between him and Hawks unsure of what to say or do, “Yes, Sir!” You found yourself saying, bowing lowly before exiting the office.

While you were getting changed in the bathroom you couldn’t help but think over what had just happened, was that a good introduction or a bad introduction. You wanted to believe it was good, but you knew it could have gone better. You rewound the look on Hawks’ face when you’d said you weren’t in your Hero Suit already, it was a facial expression equivalent to ‘You fucked up’.

The next time you met them you had to make a big impact.

Zipping up your thigh high boots, you realised that you had spent the last 15 minutes getting changed. Following every sign and asking a few reluctant people for directions, you finally found the training centre, you stuffed your bag into a locker and opened the door to bow before you properly entered. 

When you lifted your head you could see a group of about 10 other Pro Heroes standing in a line facing Endeavour and Hawks but staring directly at you - shit, you were late.

As everyone stared at you in silence you hurriedly and confidently walked to join the line, it was strange but as soon as you had your Hero outfit on you felt like a badass, on this occasion hopefully it would help.

Once you were also standing to attention like everyone else Endeavour spoke up, “As I was saying-” you could feel eyes on you with just those four simple words, “You are here to prove that you are worthy to be associated to my name, being here today does not mean you work for me - just because you are Pro Heroes does not mean you are actual Heroes” he was blunt and mean, everything that you thought he would be.

“There are 10 of you here today, by the end of this week there will only be 2 remaining” he said dramatically, he continued to talk but you were distracted by Hawks leaning into you and speaking up “That’s your Hero outfit?” His tone was disapprovingly, “Yes!” You whispered out loudly.

It was just a plain black one piece with thigh-high heeled boots, you couldn’t afford for someone to design and make you a costume like all the big time Pros.

“First phase, we will be having a Battle Royale of sorts” Hawks shouted out to everyone, startling you considering how close he was to you. “There are no rules, when we say ‘Go’ attack, defend or retreat however you want - the last 5 still standing will progress” was the only brief explanation you were given.

“Go!” Endeavour shouted, immediately everyone ran to their battle stations.

[footballxwrites]

Scott where maybe she does admin or something at club. She keeps herself to herself so he thinks she hates him. The other players don’t get it cause they get on with her. She’s working late and her ex shows up and is being a total douche and Scott is the only other one about and helps her get him away and they kinda bond from that?

“Yeah yeah working overtime tonight, got a pile of paperwork to sort out” you tiredly smiled with a roll of the eyes as the lads sighed with a pout, “you know I’d come out for a drink if I could” you giggled, gazing around at the saddened looks. “The girls were looking forward to seeing you as well” Marcus said as you nodded, “I know me too...next time Rashford” you promised, crossing your heart as you said your goodbyes to the quite excited boys, loud as ever as they sang their celebrations from the victory they gotten today in a nice 4-3 against the rivals. “Oh and don’t forgot to have a drink for me” you shouted down the corridor as they just laughed, “don’t worry we won’t” a roar of replies came flooding back, “hey don’t stay too late mind” Dean winked, giving you a hug on the way out of the building, being the last to leave as per usual.

———————

About an hour later and you were deep in thought, the concentration levels at an all time high as you raced through the ton of sheets, wanting to get home soon as seeing as it was a Saturday night and there was a Hawaiian pizza with your name on it defrosting on the kitchen counter. You being the paranoid, self conscious person you are shot up out your seat when you heard the slightest clattering come from the main door, and although you needed a key card to actually open the door, you count help but take a quick look, you know, just to ease your mind.

“Oh you have to be having a laugh” your eyes widened as you found your recent ex stood outside the main entrance of Old Trafford, trying his hardest to get the door to open so he can ‘win you back’ as he put it, “look that door ain’t budging so got gone alright” you laughed, standing with crossed arms. “Come on, just give me 5 mins I need to talk to you” he pleaded, not giving in easy, “Y/E/N there’s nothing to say, you cheated on me with some randomer from the club and then I ended things...simple” you stated, staying true to your words. “It was ONE mistake and it meant nothing...is it really worth throwing a relationship of three years away for some stupid shag” he sighed, rambling on about a load of pointless shit as you were trying to figure out a way to get him away from your place of work...to which he attempted to break into by the way.

“Just go...NOW before I get security” you shouted through the glass door, absolutely shitting yourself as there was in fact no one else in the building apart from you which meant no one around to help deal with the man who was ok the verge of sobbing his heart out. “You heard her mate, get gone before I call the police” you heard a half familiar voice creep up behind you, his breath warm and minty on your neck and the scent of his sweet cologne drifting your way, “fine but I’ll not give up Y/N...I’ll win you back” your mad ex called before stumbling off.

“Oh, thank you...what are you doing here Scott?” you asked surprised, making your way back to your office as he followed, “wanted to get in some more drills in peace, sometimes it like being with a bunch of teens with them lot” he laughed, referring to his teammates to which you couldn’t defend, they were the loudest group of men you’ve ever known. “Yeah I know what you mean, why do you think I’m on overtime, it’s impossible to concentrate with them down the hallway shouting about whatever they can” you giggled back, falling into your chair with a sigh as Scott parked himself on to your desk.

“I never really see you about, where’ve you been hiding McTominay” you said with furrowed eyebrows as he set him gaze to the floor, “you never seem to talk to me, thought you hated me if I’m honest” he shrugged, heartily trying to seem bothered which made you feel awful. “Oh god no I don’t hate you Scott...I just prefer to keep myself to myself, you know? And as for the other lads, I’ve known them for years and it’s hard to keep to you when they’re so outgoing” you grinned, placing a hand on his as he raised his view, staring deep into your eyes as his face lit up. “I mean as long as you don’t have anything against me, how about we start again...it’s nice to meet you Y/N” he smirked as you giggled at his remark, “oh so you know my name do you” as you shook his head, “well...only because that strange fella outside kept saying it every second, he was a dick by the way, no offence”

“None taken, just a crazy ex who can’t seem to get over me...it’s hard to forget a beautiful face like this though” you joked, flicking your hair back as he nodded in agreement, which made things tiny bit awkward. “So...not fancy going out with the boys then?” you broke the silence as he yawned, “I’m shattered to be truthful, will probably just have a drink at home. Fancy joining me?” he asked hopeful as you eagerly nodded, “got nothing else planned tonight expect having a pizza that’s been sat in the freezer for about a month so” you laughed, releasing just how sad your life is at times. “I’m in need of a large vodka and coke after today” you sighed, shoving on your coat and flicking the lights off, “you’re not the only one...better not be a lightweight mind” he joked back with a wink as you playfully nudged him, “oh don’t worry I ain’t McTominay, I could out drink you easy as day” as yous made your way out the building into the cold night in Manchester, the rain pouring down as always 🤍