#and to apologize for being the opposite of what a lot of you probably follow me for

[81pastrys]

Hey I have a Lando smut request if ur feeling up for it. Hear me out: Lando and guided masturbation. Reader and Lando had a small petty argument over smth and readers too stubborn to admit Landos right and Lando being Lando is also being stubborn (rightfully so in this case) but bc they're avoiding each other they're both becoming more needy and so one night reader tries to get herself off but it's not working cuz it's not the same as having Lando do the work and he catches her and basically refuses to help her out in any way except by guiding her (and mean Lando would defo be present here imo) and making her torture herself through his instructions and refusing to help her until she's done what he asked (and until she admits she's wrong). And some lighthearted aftercare at the end of all this filth 😭. Apologies for the long request hope u have a grt day

Guided Mastur Meditation

Summary— She finds herself ignoring Lando after a telemetry fight and can’t help herself trying to ease the sexual tension, but Lando interrupts and ‘helps’

Warnings— SMUT ; teasing ; guided masturbation ; fingering ; aftercare provided

A/N— uhm hello?! I LOVEEE this

Lando One Shot List

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

“You’re wrong, I saw the data Lando!” She argued, standing her ground in the argument. She was saying that Oscar had the upper hand and bottled it in the race, but Lando argued the opposite.

“No he didn’t, he may have had a better set up, but he didn’t have any upper hand.” Lando stayed calm, he understood the data a lot better than she did, even with her engineering degree. “They set up our cars how we ask them to, he always has a different advantage.”

“Lan, Oscar bottled it.” She calmed down now, not as upset. “Half the turns were over shot and the other half was alright, you barely overshot any!”

“Undershot, love, he undershot the turns.” Lando corrected. She groaned and walked off. He silently laughed to himself. He opened his computer and continued looking to the telemetry. He went over his and Oscar’s. Proving his point to be right.

For the next few days they slept facing away from each other, the stupid argument and their stubborn attitudes clashing. It was probably the longest they had gone without getting each other off and it weighed on them. Her especially, wanting an orgasm from his hands, his mouth, she got wet thinking of it.

She went to their bedroom and played on her phone before sparking the idea to get herself off. Lando was busy right? She searched her socials for a good fan fiction of Lando and put her hand down her skirt that she wore.

She read and slipped a few fingers under her panties, soaked with her arousal. Not that ignoring Lando turned her on, but his calm demeanor throughout it all does. Her fingers gathering the slick, making it easier to rub circles on her sensitive clit.

“He touched her with fervor as he slipped his fingers into her tight cunt” She followed the fan fiction to a T, although she was not gaining any satisfaction. His thick, rough fingers just felt so much better than her small, nimble ones. It wasn’t the same and she groaned at the relief she couldn’t get from her own hands.

Lando decided he was going to show her proof as to how she was wrong and walked into their shared bedroom, her hand pulling back quickly as she closed her phone and sat up. She didn’t think he noticed but the smirk on his face said otherwise.

“Does ignoring me make you aroused?” He asked with a seductive hint. Her face flushed with pinks and reds. “I was going to prove to you how wrong you were, but clearly you had other plans.”

She thought she would get the relief she wanted from him, but she was incorrect for thinking that. “I’m not wrong.” She mumbled, hoping for some sort of rough sex to assert his dominance in how he was right by fucking her dumb.

“You can say that you are right, but we both know you aren’t.” He said, still not making a move from the doorway with his arms crossed. “Go ahead, don’t let me interrupt you.” She looked to him nervously. “Make it easier for yourself, take those off.” He was getting hard thinking about how he could ruin her, or he can just tease and edge her by using his words. “I don’t plan on helping you much.”

She did as told and took off the skirt and panties, tossing them aside. She sat against the headboard, still no motions from Lando. He looked at her to continue and when she didn’t, only then did he move. Her breath hitched. He sat behind her and rubbed her arms while kissing her neck and face. The closest they had been since the argument.

“Touch yourself for me love, make yourself feel good yeah?” He whispered, his voice husky and deep. He watched as her hand moved back and rubbed small circles on her clit. “That’s it, how does that feel love?” He taunted.

She let out a quiet moan and moved with more aggressive circles. When he was satisfied with her small whines and moans he grabbed her hand and moved it down more, allowing two of her nimble fingers to slip in. “Please.” She moaned. He was teasing her with his words, she didn’t dare picking up speed.

“Curl your fingers for me, touch that sensitive spot you love.” He instructed. Her leg twitched when she did. He smiled and kissed her ear as he continued guiding her. “Move your fingers love, slowly, not too fast.” He watched as she listened, moving her hand at a snail like pace, in and out. The wet noises echoing in the quiet room.

He rubbed her thigh and the other moved her hair. “Lan..” She breathed, leaning back. Her head fell perfectly on his shoulder as her mouth hung open. She could feel his dick hard in his pants as she leaned back, slightly teasing him.

“Go faster, get yourself close.” He teased her still, knowing it takes her a long time to get herself to a climax. “Curl your fingers when you thrust them in, try to keep a steady pace love you’ve got it.” He praised. She felt a climax bubbling and he could sense it by the way she was squirming and the tone of her noises. He grabbed her wrist and moved her hand away.

“What? Lan.” She whined, kicking her feet down and straining her hand against his. He kissed at her neck and she relaxed at the slight pleasure he was providing. One hand intertwined with his fingers and the other in the hold of his by her wrist, dripping with her arousal. “I was so close please?”

He laughed into her neck and gave her one more kiss. “Am I right?” He asked. She whined and spat out that he was but he didn’t believe her. “No, no, I want to hear you say why I’m right.” Her legs continued to move as she tried prying one of her hands away.

“Oscar didn’t bottle shit, I’m sorry.” She whined at him. “Please Lan, let me finish.” Once her legs stopped moving and her breathing calmed, he let her hand go. “You edged me and I told you that you were right, please!!”

Her hand returned but she couldn’t get herself close again, his words stopping and replaced by kisses. “I need more of an explanation as to how I’m right, love.” He taunted her again. Her unsteady hand not getting her anywhere.

“Oscar didn’t have an upper hand, you did- fuck.” She moaned. He removed her hand again and before she could protest, he rubbed small, slow circles on her clit. She whimpered and held onto his arm with her slicked fingers.

“So wet, love.” He said, focusing on teasing her more. “We should argue more often, if it gets you this aroused.” Lando smiled at her state, head leaned back, mouth opened, legs lax against the bed, her hands both tensing at his hand or arm.

“You were right, please lan, don’t tease me again.” She said breathlessly at his slow movements. He finally listened and his fingers took over, doing as he told her earlier. Thrusting in and out, curling as they entered. Her breathing picked up and he felt her walls constricting against his fingers, a climax right on the brink.

“Close already?” He asked. “I shouldn’t let you finish, telling me I’m wrong and that my teammate had an upper hand on me?” He teased and she whined again. His fingers picked up their pace, the slick loud and wet on his hand. He moved their intertwined fingers across her stomach to hold her still while he finished her off.

“Oh my god, fuck lan!” She moaned. Her body crumbled at the orgasm like he had predicted, him following her movements forward to help her ride out the high and not leaving her to have a ruined orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She strained.

“That’s it, such a good girl.” He praised, usuing his strength to lean her back against him. She closed her legs on his hand as his fingers worked her slowly now. She panted as he removed the torturous fingers. “How’s it feel to be wrong?” He teased her still.

Her mind was cloudy, not caring one bit about being wrong anymore. Her ears rang as he coaxed her through. “I want to be wrong more often.” She panted at him. He erupted in small giggles as she relaxed against him. He rubbed her thigh, letting her body have a break.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He moved from behind her, adjusting his own issue. He was going to deal with that later. For right now he was going to care for his girlfriend who he just gave a mind blowing orgasm. He returned with a damp towel to clean her up.

“You said you had proof that you were right?” She asked, cocking an eyebrow. He shut her up quickly as he cleaned her up, still sensitive from the orgasm. “I said you were right!” She protested as he cleaned her up, longer than usual.

“I know, I just like seeing you squirm and tell me over and over how right I am.” He finished and kissed her lips.

They both looked at the telemetry and it sparked another fight, this time he fucked her dumb and she never disagreed with him on telemetry again.

This is a long one! Absolutely LOVE the request btw

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia

[reingkings]

Gi-hun can’t hold grudges, and what that means for Inhun/457.

I was thinking of this the other day. I don’t consider myself to be the type of person who holds grudges, but looking at Gi-hun I feel like he puts me to shame.

Disclaimer: I don’t hate the following characters this is just an analysis.

Example A: Sae-byeok. We all love her in the fandom, but if you think about it– Gi-hun only knew her a couple of days. The first time they met, she stole from him causing him a lot of trouble. When they met again, she didn’t even apologize and was generally rude. And yet, Gi-him was willing to put his life on the line to defend her from 101. And then, he was willing to fight Sang-woo for her. He goes on to take care of her brother for her, too.

Example B: Speaking of Sang-woo, he betrayed Gi-hun pretty early on during dalgona. I think to some extent Gi-hun knew this but he still let it go. He only got angry when Sang-woo pushed the other player during the bridge game, then with Sae-byeok. And yet, even in the end when Sang-woo tried to kill him (and stabbed him through the hand) and he needed the money for his mother’s treatment - he was willing to leave the money so they could both leave alive.

Example C: The loan shark. Dude literally beat him up, humiliated him, and made him sign an agreement to sell his organs. And yet, in season 2, Gi-huh is willing to team up with them and pay them to help find the Salesman.

Example D: Jung-bae. Jung-bae is definitely another favorite, and I think we definitely have a bias towards him, but objectively he was not the greatest friend. For one, he was the one who introduced Gi-hun to horse racing, precipitating Gi-hub’s money troubles. When Gi-hun needed his help, he also didn’t lend Gi-hun money for his mother’s treatment (I don’t think he necessarily was to blame for her death, but it is a huge disappointment). They fell out of contact and reunited in the game, where he betrayed Gi-hun again by voting O. This is particularly cold-hearted when you think about the fact that the money pool would only only climb if more players die the next game. That’s what the O’s bank on. Yet, Gi-hun was never able to stay angry, and trusted him to the very end.

It kind of shows that Gi-hun can’t really distinguish from good or bad, and he is uniquely soft-hearted. If someone kicked while he was down, he would probably apologize.

To someone like In-ho, who pretty much seems to be the opposite of Gi-hun in every possible way, I think this kind of attitude makes him angry. But I think at the same time it’s what causes his obsession. In a self-indulgent evil world with bored rich people, organ traffickers, and cannibals (probably) — a person like Gi-hun is an impossibility.

Therefore, in order to satisfy his curiosity, In-ho has to test the boundaries of Gi-hun’s humanity. He’s willing to indulge Gi-hun without letting him escape. (For example, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the Salesman was at the airport when Gi-hun was ready to leave for America. This has In-ho written all over it). He lets Gi-hun join the games, but he won’t let him keep the tracker. He lets the players vote each round, but ensures the X’s are never the majority. He lets Gi-hun stage a rebellion, but won’t let him succeed.

And yet, In-ho would rather let Gi-hun think he died than reveal to Gi-hun that he is the Frontman – arguably something that would hurt him even more.

Is this subconsciously a way out that he’s leaving himself? He knows Gi-hun could forgive him being a coward, because Gi-hun is capable of forgiving anything.

Or is it something worse. I think if you meet someone that can forgive anything, then the most special existence to that person — isn’t it the one person they are capable of hating?

[azzifuddslover]

༯ OFF THE COURT — CHAPTER FIVE 𝜗𝜚

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

themes: angst, pining

word count: 2.7k

tw: swearing, LIGHT sexual content

a/n: happy thanksgiving for anyone who celebrates! i lowkey like this chapter a lot, but i apologize for it being so short. i’ll try to make next chapter longer 🤞 lemme know how u enjoy it!

the following day, paige isn’t the one screwing up in practice. no, it’s azzi. azzi, the one who is consistent with her shots. azzi, the one who rarely misses despite any stress or distractions she’s feeling.

yet, ever since that stupid game of spin the bottle that ended up with paige kissing her, she’s been out of sync.

azzi furiously dribbles the basketball on the ground, pressing her lips in a firm line out of frustration. she goes for yet another 3 pointer; it bounces off the rim.

“fucking dammit,” she mutters to herself, annoyed with her shot missing.

caroline, one of her closest friends on the team, cautiously approaches the brunette.

“az, you good?” she asks wryly.

azzi looks over at her, “i’m fucking perfect, caroline.”

a flash of hurt travels in carol’s eyes at her friends harsh words.

regret hits azzi immediately, “i’m sorry, carol. i’ve just got a lot on my mind— i didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

caroline’s lips tug into a gentle smile, “no worries, girl. i knew something was up, anyway.”

“you just know me too well, don’t you?” azzi returns the grin.

“sure do,” caroline replies, “so, you gonna tell me or what?”

“not here,” azzi makes a rushed glance at the blonde who’s across the room, doing some of her own shooting drills with kk.

caroline follows her line of sight and nods in understanding, “i see,” she smirks, knowingly.

azzi is sprawled out on her bed, while caroline is sitting cross legged on the opposite one. both girls have showered and dressed into comfortable pajamas since practice ended hours ago.

“tell me tell me tell me,” caroline repeats, eagerly.

azzi playfully rolls her eyes, “it’s stupid.”

“i don’t care, az! just tell me already,” she exclaims.

azzi takes a moment to think about the someone who’s been stuck in her head. that someone with perfect fucking lips and a perfect fucking tongue who knows exactly how to use it. heat creeps up her neck, reaching her cheeks. she brings her legs to her chest and covers her face with both hands.

“she’s fucking with my head, carol,” azzi groans into her hands.

caroline lightly smiles at her friend, “who?”

azzi removes her hands from her face to give caroline a look, “you know who. paige, obviously!”

“and why is that?”

azzi shakes her head, thinking it’s the most idiotic thing in the world. “because.. ever since.. you know what..” she gives her friend another look, “she just won’t leave my mind. she’s always there. she always has been.”

“aww, that’s so cute,” caroline beams, “you should-“

“no, it’s not cute, caroline!” azzi shouts, throwing up her hands. “it’s frustrating! it’s making me mess up in practice, embarrassing myself in front of coach. and everyone, for that matter!”

carol throws the brunette a soft look, “babe, everyone misses shots. you’re not the only one, and you most definitely won’t be the last. remember, just last week paige herself was doing bad in practice. and now she’s doing better! so will you, az.”

azzi shrugs her shoulders, figuring caroline is probably right. she lays out in her bed, pulling the covers overtop her body.

caroline isn’t done with the conversation, though. “so.. do you love her?”

azzi is taken aback at the unexpected question, to say the least. “what the actual fuck?”

“what? it’s a serious question,” caroline begins, “i see the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. it’s undeniable, if you ask me.”

“what way? what are you even talking about right now?”

carol tilts her head, throwing azzi an it’s obvious kind of glance, “um, like you want to rip one another’s clothes off and fuck each others brains out—“

“jesus, carol!” azzi shouts, shocked at her friend’s explicit language.

caroline chuckles at azzi’s reaction, “what! it’s true— you can ask any of the girls.”

right on queue, the dorm door opens and in walks the freshman, ashlynn.

“hey guys!” she waves at carol and azzi.

“perfect timing, ash,” caroline says, “i have a question for you.”

“carol, don’t,” azzi warns.

caroline squints her eyes at the curly haired brunette in challenge, “don’t you think there’s something going on between azzi and paige?”

ashlynn’s eyes widen at the question, “carol.. i thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that—“

“what?” azzi nearly screams.

ashlynn flinches back at her reaction, “az, don’t scare me like that!” she says, touching her hand to her heart.

“sorry, sorry,” azzi apologizes, “but what do you mean ‘not supposed to talk about that?’”

ash lowers herself on the bed with caroline, “well.. the entire team sort of knows there’s something up with the two of you. i mean, you guys look at each other all the time. and not in a friendly way.”

“that’s so not true!”

“yeah, it is, az. but anyway, we all agreed not bring it up, especially with either one of you. not until you figured it out.”

azzi gaped at the confession. everyone knew something was going on between them? azzi didn’t even know herself!

azzi eyes caroline, “carol, you knew? and never told me?”

caroline opens her mouth, then closes it. a moment passes with awkward silence between the three freshmen.

“az, look—“

“no! don’t even bother,” azzi throws herself off the bed, grabs her phone, and rushes out the door before neither ash or caroline could get another word out.

azzi is sitting in the basketball lounge room, phone in hand. she’s still buzzing with annoyance from the discussion with ashlynn and caroline an hour prior.

azzi’s head turns at the sound of the door creaking open. a familiar blonde steps inside, causing azzi’s heart to quicken. of course paige would come in here— of course.

paige immediately spots the brunette curled up on the couch looking her way. her breath hitches in her throat; memories of yesterday come flooding back in her mind— not that they ever left.

“h— hi,” paige stammers, then clears her throat.

“hey, p,” azzi sighs.

“just forgot my bag,” paige says, awkwardly moving to a nearby couch and grips her backpack.

azzi nods, unsure how to respond.

paige glances back at the brunette, who wears a sad expression on her face.

“are you okay?” paige questions her, genuinely concerned.

azzi gives paige a sad smile, “i’m good, thanks for asking.”

paige doesn’t move, though. she continues to stare at azzi, her eyes never wavering.

“what?” azzi asks softly at the blonde.

“you don’t look okay, az.”

azzi throws her legs out dramatically on the couch, along with her arms while defeat set in. “caroline’s pissing me off.”

paige lowers herself on a couch, opposite of the younger girl. “alright.. what’d she do to piss you off?”

azzi lets out a quiet sigh, “well..” she thinks back on her and carol’s conversation, unsure how to explain it to paige without giving too much away, “she didn’t tell me something i should’ve known about.”

paige arches a brow, “like what?”

azzi throws paige a look, “is that really your business?”

paige curls her lip in annoyance, “right, forget i asked,” she says before making an effort to get up.

azzi reaches her hand out as if to hold her back from leaving, “wait, don’t go, i’m sorry.”

paige’s heart skips a beat at azzi’s plea to make her stay, “okay.” this time, she sits down on the same couch azzi’s positioned on, inching closer to the brunette.

azzi’s cheeks instantly warm at their sudden close proximity. “it’s so fucking embarrassing missing everything in practice. it’s only my first year and i’m already screwing up.”

paige nods in understanding, “tell me about it,” she agrees. “did you see me last week? i couldn’t make a shot even if my life depended on it.”

azzi laughs at the memory of paige’s performance, “true.”

paige gives azzi a gentle shove, “hey! don’t agree with me!”

azzi’s laughter only grows, though. paige’s lips tug into a grin, yet she can’t help but still feel a little annoyed. when paige figures azzi’s laughter won’t calm anytime soon, she reaches out, placing her hand over the younger girl’s mouth.

“stop,” paige smiles, eyes solely on the azzi’s.

azzi’s chuckle soon ends; her eyes lock on paige’s while her blush becomes more visible. paige’s grin falls, but her hand remains.

azzi’s line of sight drops to paige’s pink lips— butterflies erupt in her stomach. she can’t help but think of yesterday; the feeling of paige’s lips against her own, her tongue swirling in her mouth. she wanted nothing more than to do it again.

paige eventually removes her hand from azzi’s mouth, eyes immediately flicking to her lips. the two are so close in distance they could hear each others erratic heart beats.

“paige,” azzi whispers, breathlessly.

paige shakes her head in attempt to forget whatever just happened between the two. “so, are you going back to your dorm anytime soon?”

“i’m not really sure, to be honest. i don’t wanna see carol right now,” she says.

paige nods, “well, if you want, you can come over mine again. i don’t mind.”

azzi’s head snaps to paige, “really?”

“i mean, yeah. there’s enough room, plus dorka’s hanging out with lou.”

azzi smiles at paige’s offer, genuinely grateful. “okay, then. lead the way.”

the two girls jump up off the couch, paige throws her backpack over her shoulders while azzi picks up her phone. they walk side by side, fingers brushing occasionally as they make their way to paige’s dorm.

the room is exactly how azzi left it— paige’s bed was unmade, empty water bottles were scattered on the night stand, clothes on the floor.

“sorry about the mess,” paige says, embarrassment flooding her features. she frantically begins picking up the dirty clothing pieces and shoving them in the nearby closet.

azzi chuckles at paige’s rush to clean the room, finding it cute. “paige, it’s really okay. i don’t mind at all.”

paige slowly stops what she’s doing, before turning to the curly headed brunette. a moment of comfortable silence hangs in the air.

azzi clears her throat, “i forgot to give you your shirt back.”

paige’s lips tip up, “no worries, you can keep it for all i care.”

butterflies flutter in paige’s stomach at the thought of azzi wearing her shirt. she can’t help but like it.

azzi’s matches the grin, “thanks. it’s so comfortable, by the way.”

“glad you like it, az,” paige laughs as she lowers herself onto her bed.

azzi continues to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure where to go from there.

“do you possibly have an extra toothbrush i could use? it’s okay if not, i can go—“

paige jumps up, “yeah! yeah, of course i do,” she walks into the small bathroom, opens the drawer underneath the sink and pulls out an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste. she hands it off to azzi.

“thank you, p,” azzi shows her a genuine smile.

paige nervously looks away from the younger girl, “mhm.”

minutes later, azzi comes out of the bathroom with her teeth freshly cleaned. paige is already laying in her bed, underneath the covers.

azzi looks over at the blonde, wondering if she should go over there or to dorka’s bed. but they did sleep together twice already? would it be weird to assume she’d sleep in the same bed again?

as azzi decides on dorka’s empty bed, paige speaks out. “just get over here, for goodness sake.”

azzi tries to hide her growing smile as she climbs into bed, right alongside paige. she finally settles in and gets comfortable before reaching over to turn off the lamp.

azzi doesn’t process what she’s doing until after she’s done it. she leans over and touches her lips to paige’s cheek, staying there a moment too long.

“goodnight,” azzi breaths.

paige’s eyes widen— she can practically feel her body temperature rise. she decides it’s only right to return the favor. therefore, she places her hand gentle on the back of azzi’s head for support and plops a long kiss on azzi’s cheek. before following it up with another quick one for good measure.

“goodnight.”

azzi has been tossing and turning all night long. no matter how much she repositions herself, she can’t seem to fall asleep.

her and paige remained basically binded together the entire night, regardless of azzi’s constant moving. paige rests on her back, while azzi adjusts herself once again to have her back against the blonde.

paige stirs next to her, the shift in the bed enough to pull her out of sleep. she blinks, adjusting her eyes to the dark, and notices azzi squirming from beside her.

with a soft exhale, paige leans on her elbows, and gently brushes curls behind azzi’s ear to get a better view of her face.

“you okay?” paige whispers, hand remaining on the younger girl’s cheek, lightly rubbing her thumb on her cheekbone.

a shiver runs through azzi at paige’s unexpected tenderness. she blinks up at paige, eyes locked on her beautiful blue ones.

“can’t sleep,” azzi murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

paige’s lingering hand continues to graze azzi’s cheek, “i can tell.” her eyes roam azzi’s face she’s grown to adore, before settling firmly on her full lips.

azzi brings her hand, this time, up to the back of paige’s head, fingers running through the blonde locks.

the silence between the two girls was full of tension and longing, yet neither made any effort to close their distant. not that they didn’t want to— both intensely did.

heat and desire flashed in paige’s eyes, wanting to give in so badly. she knew better, though. she knew it would ruin everything—

azzi pulls paige’s head down into a passionate kiss before she has time to react. it was different from last time— this kiss was more urgent, more forceful, and more importantly, on their own terms.

paige deepens the kiss, her hand moving to azzi’s curls, and slightly tugging. a small moan leaves her mouth, vibrating on the brunettes lips.

paige peppers kisses down azzi’s cheek, all along her neck, sucking gently, enough to leave marks for the morning.

“fuck, paige,” azzi groans.

the blonde only hums against her skin, causing azzi to pull paige’s head back up to hers and connect their lips once more.

it’s frantic, it’s tender, it’s hungry— it’s everything all at once. azzi never wants this moment to end, because she’s afraid it’ll never happen again.

paige’s hand slowly lowers beneath the covers, crawling down azzi’s chest and eventually settling on her hip.

“jesus, az,” paige whispers, breathlessly against her lips, “you feel so good.”

azzi groans, her tongue swirling in the older girls mouth, clashing with paige’s.

paige’s grip on azzi’s hip loosens; it inches farther and farther until it reaches her waistband.

azzi gasps at paige’s hand placement, causing paige to disconnect their lips and look into azzi’s eyes.

“can i?” paige asks, quietly.

azzi simply nods once, uncontrollably pulling paige into another searing kiss as her fingers disappear in her pants.

the brightness of the peaking sun through the curtains was enough to wake azzi. she rubs her eyes, adjusting to the light. her body was firmly against paige’s front, while her arm was loosely wrapped around her. she could feel paige’s soft breathing on the back of her neck.

she soon realizes she has no pants on- no underwear, either. when she begins to move, paige stirs, her eyelids fluttering open.

“god, you’re such a light sleeper,” azzi notes, giggling to herself.

paige yawns, still dazed from her long rest. she leans up onto her elbows and looks over at the brunette, who’s also staring at her. awkward silence hangs between the girls.

“so.. i should probably head back to my room,” azzi says, lifting herself off paige’s bed.

paige watches the freshmen, nervously fiddling with her fingers from the memories of the earlier morning.

“yeah, okay,” paige agrees.

azzi tugs her shirt down in attempt to cover herself up, even though paige had already seen it all. she quickly finds her clothes scattered on the floor and slides them back on, paige’s eyes on her never wavering.

as azzi walks to the door, she swiftly turns around, facing the blonde.

“let’s just forget this happened, okay?” azzi says, barely able to look paige in the eye.

a flash of hurt hits paige which she instantly covers with a nod.

“i agree,” paige responds.

“alright, good,” azzi nods, pleased with paige’s agreement. she doesn’t glance back at paige when she exits the room, leaving it completely silent.

paige was lying, though. she won’t ever forget.

[rafeshow]

Part 2 of just for clicks 🥺😩🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 please

just for clicks .. pt. 2

hasanabi x fem!streamer!reader

tags : probably extremely out of character hasan (it’s been a minute since i’ve watched a stream pls let me live), use of y/n, angst, comfort, tension?, english isnt my first language, probably lots of inconsistency’s and errors.. lmk if i missed any tags !

a/n : heyyy ppl.. sososososo sorry for how long this has taken !! i’ve been very busy in my personal life and i’ve had extreme writers block, and no motivation to write for men tbh LMAOO. if you have any requests for fem streamer fanfics send them my way ig 😭. all that to say, again; im so terribly sorry for the delay with this fic. sorry if it’s awful, i’ve been writing it on and off for MONTHSSS. read part one here.

You awoke around 3AM to a gentle knock at your apartment door. The current ‘situation’ Hasan had sprung the two of you into only mere hours ago had easily kept you up; having only been asleep for about 10 minutes at this point. It was like clockwork watching it play out; first the clips, then the comments against Hasan, followed by the people running to his defense, and of course the few content creators (who probably didnt meet him more than once) insisting they ‘always knew something was off about him’. It had been hours since it blew up, and other than responding to the few initial texts from your friends informing you of the situation, you had gone completely radio silent.

The saddest part was you werent even upset. Rather the opposite, your brain jumped through hoops trying to rationalize it. He just said it in the heat of the moment, he didnt mean it the way it came off, he was just defending himself, he just wanted to make his feelings clear. But of course, the rationalizing thoughts can only do so much to block out the harmful ones; you just really over-thought the way the two of you acted, it was never like that, you made it weird, its your fault.

But honestly, what else could you do? Sitting and ‘rotting’ (for lack of a better word) in bed was much more appealing than the other options. Yes you could hop online and defend yourself, be mad about it, say how gross it was for him to insinuate you'd do anything for views, talk about how weird it is for him to get that pressed over a fan video. Or, you could always flee and take the sad victim side, let all your friends do the talking for you, leave little comments like ‘i didnt know he thought of me that way’ and profusely apologize. But none of that would be you being honest. Of course you wanted to defend yourself, of course you were sad and beating yourself up about it, but you wanted nothing more than to just sit and wallow in it for a while. Avoid the inevitable for as long as possible.

Your friends had all been bombarding you with messages and calls, but your phone was long past muted and set aside. Before going awol you left most of them with a brief ‘im going to sleep it off’ message, but judging by the still persistent notifications, youd assume that didn't ease their minds at all.

Youd been aimlessly watching a show for a few hours at this point, lulling in and out of sleep and tuning out the sound of your phone for the most part. The sudden knock at your door was a change in pace though, the sound snapping you out of the static and fog buzzing around in your head. No, the idea of one of your friends driving over to check on you wasn't all that out of the question. You lived just outside of L.A, far enough from most of your friends to feel like a nuisance asking anybody to drive to come visit you, but not far enough where you couldn't justify driving there yourself. You sat up, adjusting your loose sweatpants where they hung low on your hips. After a bit of quick process of elimination, you figured it was QT; one of your closer (and most considerate) friends. Because of this, you opted not to throw a shirt on to cover yourself, clad in a just a comfortable sports bra.

You shuffled your way over to the door, throwing on the best smile you could manage before twisting the knob and opening it. You were surprised when you had to adjust your eyes upwards, the figure at your door towering over where QT would normally reside. As you took him in, it didnt take long for an exhausted sigh to leave you. It was Hasan. There he stood, still sporting his typical tall and broodingly aloof aesthetic, even despite being moderately hunched over and with concern etched in every inch of his stature. You couldnt help but notice how unsure he looked. Anxious. No, Hasan wasnt always the most outgoing and ‘go-lucky’ guy, but he looked almost pained as you met his eyes; his clothes twisted in ways that made you guess hed been fidgeting with them, his nail polish chipped away on most fingers, the way he took an almost comically large step back as soon as you opened the door.

“Can we talk?” He said, his voice a harsh change in the silence you didnt realize was resting between the two of you. “You can say no of course-” He rushed out, only his fingers flaring out in emphasis opposed to his usual hand movements, almost as if he was afraid hed startle you.

“Yea, sure.” You sighed out, hardly even mentally present in the moment. You rubbed at your eyes as you held the door open, leaving plenty of space for him to walk in. He took you up on the invitation, albeit looking incredibly unsure whilst doing so.

He padded into your apartment painfully slow before quickly snapping his eyes to you, almost as if waiting for permission to do something. For you to give him instruction. You didn't even look at him though, instead grumbling your way over to your previous home on the sofa, tugging your blanket to one end and leaving plenty of room for him on the other. He waited till you’d sat down to follow, trying his best to gently take a seat at his appointed spot on the couch.

“How’d you get my address?” You said plainly, opting to just stare into the tv as it lowly played some random show. He’d never been there before. You honestly didnt care, whatever his answer was. You just hoped it would spring him into getting the daunting conversation over with.

“Austin.” He breathed out, sounding even tenser than he looked. “He gave it to me so I could send you something for the podcast a while ago.” He pausued, but continued; “Im sorry, I know how fucking weird it is for me to just show up but I couldnt just sit there and-” He took a breath, and you could practically taste the oncoming ramble. “You wouldnt answer anybody, and you totally have the right to do that obviously but I couldnt just sit with myself not knowing what was going on.. I started driving here before I even thought it through, which is totally my bad.. but I couldn’t just go all the way back without even checking in.. -And I know my feelings are irrelevant in this and its about you I just-”

“Hasan stop.” You turned to him, trying and failing not to look as sympathetic as you did. “I dont-.. it’s fine, okay? I mean obviously it’s not fine, but we’ll get over it. Im sure you didn't mean what you said, or at least not like that- you know- it's whatever, okay?” You practically hushed the words out, opting for the soothing approach and acting way more casual about the situation than you felt. You threw in a horribly farse reassuring smile at the end, hoping to solidify your words.

“You really didnt need to come all this way, I wouldve answered in the morning. I was just sleeping.” You added, and you saw the way his face ticked. He knew you were lying, but he was definitely not going to pry, whether about the lack of sleep or your want to brush things off. He persisted for himself though;

“It’s not fine, y/n. Im not shoving this shit under the rug, it’s going to eat me alive.” He said, his voice switching between frustration, desperation, and forced softness. You could see the way he struggled with his words, trying so hard not to talk about the way he feels (and failing miserably at it). The way a ping of regret would flash over him after every word he spoke. His eyes flickered back and forth from boring into you and staring off into the abyss of meddled emotions he’d created for himself.

“I’ll just lay it out how it is, okay? It was beyond messed up for me to insinuate you’d maliciously do something.. Like that stuff, for views, okay? Especially when I was doing that.. shit to you too. I shouldve never said that, or even thought it for that matter. I was just- frustrated, okay? Thats not me justifying it or anything, I just wanted you to like, know that-”

“Hasan.” You cut him off, this time sitting up and reaching to put a hand on his knee. You swear you could feel his leg flex under your touch. You stopped for a moment, searching his face for answers to questions you couldn't compute.

“What is so frustrating?” Is the question you somehow managed to compose. You don’t know the answer you wanted. It was an open ended question, he could take the side that you secretly hoped he would; that it was the fans. The overwhelming shipping and attention your relationship got from the fans was suffocating to him, and that he didn’t feel the way they portrayed him to feel about you. Or he could take the side that scared you. That he felt exactly the way everyone was portraying it, and them rubbing his own feelings in his face before he even had a chance to do anything about them himself was driving him crazy. Instead, the two of you sat in silence, and it wasnt uncomfortable. The air almost felt thick around the two of you, a comfortable fog, but something in it possessed you to add a gentle squeeze to his leg with emphasis. And you definitely felt him twitch this time.

“Tell me i'm not the only one who's feeling this way.” He finally muttered, and suddenly the feeling of his gaze hit you like a ton of bricks. You almost wanted to cower away with the way his eyes bored into yours, almost needy, the look feeling even more pleading than the words he'd said.

You knew what you wanted to say, but how could you possibly admit to it? Through this whole situation, you’d been not only so terribly irked at him, but also so frustrated with yourself. How could you admit that you too had been feeling the same way, and you hadn’t done anything about it either? You’d be admitting that the ripples throughout the fandom and now the controversy had been from your actions (or lack there of) too. You’d already been beating yourself up about it all day. What answer did he truly want? If you admitted to him that you too felt the same way, would he be greatful or mad? If you lied and said you didn’t feel the same way, what good or bad would it do? It could wreck him, he’d beat himself up beyond belief, the fact that he not only projected his unreciprocated feelings onto you but also gotten mad over it live. All of it being his fault. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. But you didn’t know which was worse, seeing him mad at you, or seeing him sad. You could only hope for the best, before the words spilled out of your mouth;

“Hasan of course I feel the same way.” A frown etched into your face, and you continued before he even had a chance to react; “I’m so so sorry I hadn’t done anything about it sooner either, I just beat myself up about it until I couldn’t-“ you withdrew your hand from his knee, shaking your hands, looking for the words you couldn’t form yourself. “ -I couldn’t tell how I was even feeling about it anymore..? I used to be so upset that you hadn’t done anything, I thought you were toying with me. I mean.. I tried making it obvious that I liked you so that you’d do something if you felt the same way but you never did so I convinced myself that you didn’t-“

“Hey, Hey,” He cut me off, and it was only then that i’d realized how close he’d moved to me during my rant. His leg rubbed against mine where I sat criss cross in the corner of the couch. His frame leaned over mine as he gave his best attempt at shrinking down to aid me. His eyes scattered across my face as his large hand cupped my cheek, hurriedly wiping at tears that I didn’t even notice were falling. It was only then that I finally realized the sound of my hurried breaths, the air practically huffing out of me. He looked frantic, broken, even though that’s exactly what I didn’t want. He pulled me close to his chest, i’m sure not only to sooth me, but also because he couldn’t bare to look at my tear stricken face anymore. I gripped onto his shirt, not even knowing I needed to cry this bad.

He didn’t say anything at first. I felt him pressing kisses into the crown of my head, and I couldn’t tell which one of us needed them more. He held me tight and close, all of his previous worries of hurting me more and being gentle replaced by the need to comfort. It was unspoken how much we’d both wanted to hold each other over the last few months, whether like this or otherwise, and after all our emotions boiling over, I think this was exactly what we needed.

We sat there in the silence for a long time. The humming of the tv still echoing through my flat, and the now present thumping of Hasans heartbeat against my ear was beyond peaceful. Of course, we’d pull ourselves together soon and have a realistic conversation, but for now, this was perfect.

[redtsundere-writes]

Ear Cleaning | Sukuna Ryomen

king!sukuna ryomen x servant!reader

Sypnosis: The king wants his ears cleaned and he chooses the new servant to do it. Contents: king x servant, kinda fluffy i guess, a lil bit of humilliation, threat, hugs, one bed. Word count: 750 words. Author's note: I like this dynamic, I'll probably write it again in the future. Let me know what you think :)

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AO3/WATTPAD VERSION

> Sukuna Ryomen had a lot of servers. They trembled if those scary red eyes of his laid on them. Everyone tried to avoid him at all costs to avoid performing tasks that involved being near him, especially cleaning his ears.

> Sukuna Ryomen hated having his sensitive ears touched but it was necessary if he wanted to have his five senses ready for every battle. He didn't want to clean his own ears because what kind of king cleans his own ears?

> Sukuna Ryomen began his search for a faithful servant to do such a task. As everyone was hiding from him, he ended up choosing you, the youngest and most inexperienced servant in the castle. He ordered you to follow him to his room and the other servants began to bless you in your way there in case they never saw you again.

> Sukuna Ryomen leaned back on his luxurious divan for you to start working. Like the evil motherfucker he is, he didn’t forget to threaten you first: "You'd better do your job well or I’ll kill you," he spat. You swallowed dryly because it was the first time you cleaned his ears and if you didn't do your job well, this would be your last.

> Sukuna Ryomen closed his eyes as you carefully cleaned the outside of his ear with a cotton swab. Your hands were gentle around his sensitive ears and the friction did not bother him because it was so minimal. Your fingers felt warm, which helped him relax. You wish you could be as relaxed as he was because were cold sweating and every move you made was calculated to not bother your majesty.

 > Sukuna Ryomen felt a shiver run down his back as you stuck a small wooden spatula into his ear to remove the excess earwax that prevented him from hearing well. "Tell me if it hurts, your majesty" you warned in a shaky voice. "Just do your job," he replied reluctantly.

> Sukuna Ryomen was falling asleep until you asked him if he could lie down on his opposite side so that you could continue the job in his other ear. He did so with a grunt of annoyance, as he was very comfortable on that side.

> Sukuna Ryomen let out a groan as soon as you stuck the spatula in too far. You paralyzed thinking he would kill you instantly. "More careful, can't you do something so simple?" he growled annoyed. You apologized immediately and continued on your task. As soon as your magic fingers touched his ear, his anger faded slowly.

> Sukuna Ryomen yawned as soon as you finished. It was getting late and you had to get back to the kitchen as soon as possible to help with dinner. Instead, he ordered you to stay and said, "Let the servants take care of it. Come here and massage my head."

> Sukuna Ryomen was lying on his gigantic bed with his head in your lap. Your fingers massaged his temples in circles softly. If you paid close attention, you could hear him purring lightly like a contented kitten even though he wasn't physically as cute as one. You started to feel less stressed since he seemed to be enjoying your attention.

> Sukuna Ryomen had fallen asleep, so you decided to sneak out of his room to join the other servants. As soon as you got off the bed, you heard that dreaded voice behind you. "Who said you could leave?" You stopped frozen in your place and turned to face him. "Come and lie with me." Your heart bounced on your chest as you heard that command, but you couldn't say “no” to the king. 

> Sukuna Ryomen pulled you into his strong arms like you were a full size teddy bear. The warmth of his body and yours merged, causing the temperature to rise between you. You had heard how badly he treated his concubines, so you were afraid he would do the same to you. All concern disappeared when he began to slowly caress your body carefully to not scratch you with his claws.

> Sukuna Ryomen didn't snore like you thought he would. He made a lighter, quieter sound, almost like a kitten with a stuffy nose. His arms wrapped around your waist and shoulders. His heavy breathing and comfortable chest encouraged you to fall asleep. "His majesty's orders" you thought so you wouldn't feel guilty about falling asleep while the other servants ran around the castle.

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Masterlist.

[nymph-ette111]

Jeff with a S/O that genuinely thinks he hates her most the time? Like he’s just such an unaffectionate dick she feels like she’s almost in a one sided relationship, but he has no idea how to show her how much he loves and cared about his partner.

WARNINGS; TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL, JEFFREY WOODS HIMSELF IS A WARNING

AUTHOR'S NOTE; I really enjoyed writing this! @moldypeaching Incase you forgot about this request, terribly sorry for taking such a long time :')

- Your feelings are completely valid because the way this man perceives things and feels emotions genuinely needs to be studied.

- His feelings towards you are... complicated and I'm not sure how to describe it, it's not like he fucking hates your guts or something—if that were the case he wouldn't even consider a relationship with you— but it's so easy to mistake his way of showing love for the complete opposite. You're always paranoid, always doubting this man's intentions.

- The only kind of affection he's comfortable with is the sexual kind—he has no problem initiating heavy make-outs or rough sex, but the moment it’s something as simple as saying 'I love you' or innocently complimenting you without saying something out of pocket, he's rejecting it immediately.

- He’s convinced himself that you’re entirely dependent on him, that you can’t live without him. So, he feeds into his own delusions, using them as an excuse to treat you like shit without consequence. His thought process is 'She loves me too much to leave, so no matter what I do, she’ll always forgive me.’

- This of course leads to many, many arguments. Ones that hurt because Jeff hates a lot of things, and admitting he made a mistake is high on that list. If he's wrong, trust me, he's realized it a long time ago. He just doesn't want to back down and bruise his ego.

- Now I'm going to be a hypocrite and go against what I previously stated in another post about the jerk, most of these arguments have ended with break ups. Jeff is short-tempered—quick to blow up and end things in the heat of the moment. But he always comes back to you, almost desperate. If there was ever a time where you realized that Jeff actually gives a fuck, it's during those times.

- He comes back an absolute mess, probably drunk too. You take it upon yourself to take care of the man when he's in such state. That's when he actually apologizes for being an asshole. Drunk words are sober thoughts.

- What follows after is Jeff's attempts at being a better boyfriend but knowing him it would probably last a week before his old habits start to noticably seep in once again.

-There's really no way to fix this guy, he's messed up beyond repair. He really does love you he just can't show it. You have to be a master at romanticizing toxic relationships in order to continue dating this man.

[suddencolds]

duffel bag, packed light (yves/vincent AU fic)

Hello! Happy (definitely-not-late) Valentines day. <3 I hesitated on posting this because it's a little disjointed, but I think I need to kick it out of my drafts (go! leave!) before it gets stuck in there forever.

My kind anonymous prompter dropped some of the most fire prompts known to mankind in their submission 😭🙏 These are the two which I went with:

Write an AU oneshot that is completely different from the current Yvescent setting using a combination of 3 or more of the following emojis: 🏝️🎒🛳️🗓️📓🌧️🍱🌠🎬 + hear me out what if we got um spicy kink!Yves or kink!Vincent au 👀 and flowers or an irritant of your choosing

This whole fic is AU!Yves + AU!Vincent w/ the kink, in which they are not coworkers, but instead meet as strangers on a cruise, and Yves turns out to be allergic to something unexpected 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️. I should apologize for the long exposition; the first half of this reads more like a character study. If you don't care about how they meet, you can scroll down to the section labeled "Firsts"!

—

The stranger breaks the silence first.

“It’s a nice view,” he says.

They’re on one of the rooftop floors. It’s surprisingly crowded out here—apparently Vincent’s idea to take an evening walk was far from original. Vincent looks out at the unending expanse of water before them, the sky dark, the cruise deck high enough that the waves below them are almost too small to make out.

“It is,” Vincent agrees.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the ocean plenty,” the stranger says, leaning out onto the railing. The wind picks up on the strands of his light brown hair. “Assuming you’re a cruise person.”

Vincent contemplates going with the assumption. He is not obligated to tell the truth, of course—that he is terribly out of place here; that, if he’s being honest, it is a little strange and embarrassing to be here alone.

“I am not a cruise person,” Vincent says. “I won the tickets through a work raffle.”

“A work raffle?” The stranger turns to him, perking up.

Vincent nods.

“You’re kidding me,” the stranger says, suddenly animated. “You should’ve bought a lottery ticket right after, with that kind of luck.”

“I think I’ve used up all my luck reserves,” Vincent says. “Out of everyone who could have won, I may be the least suited to be doing this.”

“What does that mean? That you don’t like cruises?” When Vincent shakes his head, the stranger stills, contemplative. “Do you get seasick or something?”

“I am not the kind of person who would pay for a cruise.”

“Huh. Well, I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t have to pay for this one.” 

Vincent supposes that is true. His coworkers had been happy for him when the announcement had come out—are you serious? I’m so jealous! And you’re going to love it! And Take lots of pictures! We’ll definitely be grilling you for them when you get back!—he thinks he probably ought to be happy, too, considering how expensive this kind of thing would be normally, considering how statistically unlikely it had been for him to win.

Instead, he’d felt a sort of blankness, bewilderment veering on apathy—but it would be ungrateful to turn this kind of thing down, or to sell it off to someone else, wouldn’t it? In the end, he’d nodded a little stiffly at them, and smiled, and promised them their pictures.

“And what about you?” Briefly, Vincent entertains the possibility that this stranger is someone who takes ten cruises a year—the exact opposite kind of person that Vincent is, the kind of person who likes being hundred of miles out from the nearest coast, who likes the extravagance of the room service and the on-deck waterslides and the quaint high class diners, who likes talking to strangers. “Is this your hundredth cruise?”

The stranger laughs. “It’s actually my second. I was planning to go with someone. We bought two tickets way back—not company-sponsored, by the way, though I wish they were.”

“Did they decide to call it a night early?” Vincent asks.

The stranger laughs—a short, curt laugh. Vincent cannot tell if it’s genuine. “She’s actually not here. She couldn’t make it.”

It seems strange, to Vincent, that someone might miss something as expensive as a cruise. “Something else came up?”

“To be frank, I was in a relationship with her up until two weeks ago,” the stranger says. Then he laughs again, a little self-deprecatingly. “Sorry, that’s probably too much information.”

“Oh,” Vincent says. “I’m sorry about the breakup.”

The stranger waves a hand. “It’s fine. She left me the tickets, which wasn’t cool, but I found someone to resell hers to, even though it was sort of last minute. Facebook marketplace is the maker of miracles. The guy who bought it is somewhere on this ship, though I don’t think I could point him out to you.” 

“Are you alright?”

The stranger blinks at him. He looks a little caught off guard. “Sorry?”

“With the breakup,” Vincent clarifies. “Two weeks ago is still recent. Are you alright?”

The stranger is quiet for a moment. “That’s very considerate of you to ask,” he says, at last.

Vincent looks away from him. “That’s not an answer.”

The stars are starting to come out. The ocean stretches out, wide and dark, beyond them. The stranger says, after a moment: “With a view like this, who wouldn’t be?”

He reaches up a hand to swipe at his eyes. His sleeve doesn’t linger for very long. If Vincent weren’t looking, he might mistake the motion for something casual, something unassuming.

The stranger squeezes his eyes shut, and takes in a breath. The exhale that follows is carefully, meticulously even. 

Vincent doesn’t know what it is that prompts him to open his mouth. It’s a stupid, impulsive decision, directed towards someone to which he has no allegiance. It’s entirely unlike him.

And yet.

“My cabin number’s 3-75-F.” he says, before he can think better of himself. “If you need company, or if you want to talk about how your ex was the worst person on earth, we can get dinner, or just take a walk. If you don’t, I won’t take it personally.”

He turns, starts off in the direction of the deck entrance—this is preferable, he thinks, to sticking around to hear the stranger’s response. Judging by the size of the cruise ship, there are probably two thousand people on board. Vincent tells himself that it’s statistically unlikely he will run into this particular stranger again, which means his offer doesn’t have to mean anything at all.

“Wait,” the stranger says, falling into step with him.

Vincent turns.

“That actually sounds really nice. I’m glad you offered. Dinner, tomorrow at 6?” The stranger extends a hand. When Vincent looks up, he is surprised to find that he’s smiling. “I’m Yves.”

Vincent takes it. “Vincent.” he tries to keep his surprise out of his voice. “I’ll be free.”   

Yves says: “Great! I hear there’s a restaurant on the third floor which people really like. Do you like seafood?”

“Seafood’s great.”

Yves grins. “I’ll make the reservation tonight. Goodnight, Vincent.”

“Goodnight,” Vincent says, before he can second guess himself into taking it back. He has the distinct sense that he’s just gotten himself into something he’s fundamentally ill-equipped to handle.

—

In truth, the first time Yves meets Vincent is not the first time they meet. Vincent meets Yves for the first time when he’s in line to board. This, like their second meeting, is a coincidence.

— 

Before.

The stranger is smiling.

The girl he’s talking is interested in him. That’s the first thing Vincent notices. It’s not a secret—it’s evident in the way she cranes her entire body towards the stranger as he speaks. Evident in the way she laughs, her shoulders shaking, after he tells her something Vincent can’t quite decipher; evident in the way her eyes snap to his hands as he gesticulates.

Briefly, Vincent wonders how they know each other. A couple? But the more Vincent watches, the more he realizes that that doesn’t make sense. His body language is so deceptively open, as if to dismantle any line upheld between the two of them, but he is careful not to touch her. Likewise, she doesn’t reach for him, even though—from the way her gaze lingers on his arm, too long, loaded—Vincent thinks she probably wants to.

Long-time friends, then? Whatever the stranger is saying is too novel, and the girl is nodding vigorously at him, now, and Vincent can see that she’s trying to make a good impression. Have they just met tonight, then? The girl rummages through her purse for her phone, pauses briefly to type something out. Holds the screen up so he can see it.

The stranger leans in, his face intimately close to her, to peer down at it, too. There is something so confoundingly thoughtless about the gesture. It is almost as though there is a gap in how long they have known each other—as if she is, to him, already a longtime friend. There is no nervousness to the way he regards her, no pointed self-consciousness.

It’s a little interesting, Vincent thinks. He wonders, briefly, if the stranger knows that she likes him.

What strikes him about the arrangement is how open he is. It’s peculiar. It is as if they are not strangers at all. He holds the conversation seamlessly, with such warmth that Vincent marvels at it, as easily as if he has known her for years.

—

Dinner.

It’s around 5:41 when Vincent hears the knock on his cabin door.

The cruise room is more comfortable than he’d expected it to be. The ship is large enough that it feels oddly stationary, and the room—despite its relatively low ceilings and narrow walkways—has an excellent view of the ocean when he pulls back the curtain—the unmoving blue line of it, the inky sky above it, the clouds low on the horizon. 

Vincent, who had been half expecting Yves to not show up at all, puts his book down on the nightstand and heads towards the door.

When he opens it, Yves is dressed in a button-down collared shirt and slacks. He looks boyishly handsome, Vincent thinks—kind of like he could be a movie star, probably someone who would play a childhood-friend-turned-lover. 

“You’re early,” Vincent says. 

Yves checks his watch. “I guess I am. Did I catch you unprepared?”

“No, I’m ready,” Vincent says, nodding towards the hallway. “Lead the way.”

The living quarters on the cruise are ordered in neat rows. They head down a long hallway toward the central elevators. Yves talks about his morning—about how he’d spent his time perusing the second floor shops, how he’d played one game at a casino, won twenty dollars, and now he’s determined to never go back. (“I need to keep the net positive,” he says, “statistically unlikely as it is.” “You’re already doing better than everyone else in the casino,” Vincent says.)

The elevator ride is short. The cruise technically has fifteen floors—more if you count the partial floors at the top: the rooftop bar, the rooftop garden and grill.

“I can’t wait till we get to shore,” Yves says. “Not that the cruise isn’t nice, and all, but whenever I take a walk on deck, it never really feels like I’m stretching my legs.”

It’s Thursday evening. They’ll dock early tomorrow morning at the Amber Cove cruise island, spend a few hours there out on the beach, and then head back onto the cruise for their next stop. Vincent has packed swim trunks, sunglasses, a couple bottles of sunscreen, but the idea of going to the beach on his own feels distinctly out of character. He’s never been the kind of person to seek out experiences like this—sunny and indulgent—on his own, without someone else to pull him into them.

He supposes this isn’t really an exception. The company tickets which landed him on this ship in the first place were the catalyst to everything.

“You haven’t eaten here before,” Yves asks, as they round the corner to the door of the restaurant, “have you?”

“No,” Vincent says. “I’ve only been to the diner on the second floor.”

Yves smiles back at him. “That’s good. I don’t have to cancel my reservation, then.” “I wouldn’t have made you cancel it anyway.”

“You seem too polite to do that sort of thing,” Yves says, with a laugh. “There are too many things to do on deck for me to be dragging you to the same few places.”

Yves relays his reservation name and time to the waiter, who shows them to a table by the window. The restaurant is dimly lit—the majority of the light is coming from a single candle that sits in front of them, next to a vase of tastefully arranged flowers.

“This place is very romantic,” Vincent says.

Yves blinks at him. “I guess it is. Does that bother you?”

Vincent thinks that he can easily imagine another version of this evening—a dinner in which the seat across from Yves is occupied by his ex. An evening where they talk and laugh over a shared bottle of wine and eat the best seafood on the ship.

“I can see why you would have wanted to come here with her,” Vincent says. “I’m sure you had a lot to look forward to. I’m sorry.”

Yves glances back at him, his expression unreadable. Then he looks down. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he says. “You didn’t have any part in it.”

“In your decision?” “In hers.” He shakes his head with a laugh that doesn’t quite show in his eyes.  “It wasn’t mine to decide. She rekindled an old relationship at a bar. It was with this guy who went to the same college as the both of us, though I didn’t know him that well.”

He unfolds his cloth napkin and positions it gingerly on his lap. “I didn’t even know that they were friends, or that she would be meeting up with him. We were still together when it all happened, and then suddenly we weren’t.”

“That must have been painful for you,” Vincent says.

“I probably should’ve known better,” Yves says, tilting his head up to the ceiling. He smiles, a little self-deprecating.“I think there were probably signs that I missed. It’s the sort of thing you dwell on, you know. If everything really came out of left field, or if she’s already been falling out of love for a long time. This is depressing, but I keep thinking about—well, if maybe I could’ve done something to fix things if I’d realized it sooner.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Vincent says. 

Yves blinks at him. “What?”

Vincent looks down—at the flowers between them, arranged artfully in a shallow glass vase. “You shouldn’t have had to do anything. You shouldn’t have had to speculate at all.” He doesn’t know why he’s saying this. It is none of his business, he knows, and besides, it’s not as though Yves has asked for his opinion. He finds himself thinking, abruptly, to Yves’s conversation with the girl in line, a couple spots ahead of him—the girl smiling, leaning close; Yves somehow reflecting back her interest with warmth.

It is part of the reason why Vincent is here, right now, if he’s honest with himself. Vincent understands exactly why people would be drawn to that particular sort of warmth. It’s the sort of warmth he doesn’t know how to cultivate, probably wouldn’t be able to cultivate, even if he tried. It is evident even now, in the way Yves seems to so readily offer his ex the benefit of the doubt, in the way his warmth extends towards her still.

“If she was having second thoughts, then she should’ve said something. You shouldn’t have been expected to read her mind,” Vincent says. Perhaps being so honest is overkill, but even if no one else in Yves’s life will say it, Vincent finds he has no such reservations. “At the very least, she should’ve ended things with you before looking for other options. Frankly, your ex sounds like a terrible person.”

Yves blinks at him, a little taken aback. “I’m sure I’m giving you a very biased impression of her. She’s a pretty reasonable person.” 

“Reasonable people can do bad things,” Vincent says, crossing his arms. On some level, he understands—of course Yves, with his proximity to the problem, would not see it this way. “Your ex hooked up with someone behind your back. I find it hard to believe that someone who had your best interests in mind would do that.”

Yves seems to consider this.

“I don’t think I’ll be in the business of forgiveness anytime soon,” he says, as if he is choosing his words carefully. “You’re right to say that what she did was pretty terrible.”

Vincent raises an eyebrow. “But?”

Yves is quiet, for a moment.

“I think it would be easier,” he says, at last, with a small smile. “If I thought about her that way.”

It’s a confession that Vincent has already figured out. “You still think highly of her. It makes sense.”

“She was my best friend for three years.” he shakes his head, smiling. “I thought—I don’t know what I thought. When I thought about a future with her, everything seemed so intuitive. Like all the problems that could come up would be things we’d already know how to work through.”

The waiter stops by their table to ask them for their choice in refreshments. Yves greets him with a polite smile—one that Vincent finds no holes in—and asks for one of the drinks on the cocktail menu. Vincent picks something at random, to match.

“Sorry,” Yves says, after the waiter leaves. “I didn’t mean to get into such a depressing tangent. We don’t have to talk about my ex. I’ll give you time to actually look over the menu.”

Vincent says, “You don’t have to apologize. I won’t take long.” He opens the menu—it is nice, he thinks, that all the food and drink is included in the cruise fare which he didn’t have to pay for—makes a mental list of all the items which look interesting, and stack ranks them in his head. Then he shuts the menu and sets it off to the edge of the table, so the waiter won’t have to lean over to pick it up.

He feels, without looking, that Yves is watching him.

“You weren’t kidding. You’re very efficient.”

Vincent meets his eyes from across the table. Yves has his own menu open, too, but he’s pretty sure Yves has been waiting for him. “You decided more quickly than I did.”

“I cheated and looked up the menu beforehand,” Yves says. “I didn’t want to subject you to my indecisiveness.”

This makes sense to Vincent—as does the early knock on his door. “You were looking forward to eating here.”

“With a hot stranger,” Yves says, with a laugh. “Yes.”  

The compliment is unexpected. It settles something inside of him, something nervous and wanting, though Yves says it offhandedly enough that Vincent thinks he probably shouldn’t take it to heart. He raises an eyebrow. “Am I still a stranger? We’ve exchanged names.”

Yves laughs. “I guess we can be acquaintances, then.”

The waiter arrives with their cocktails—Yves’s has a sprig of lavender near the rim, and Vincent’s has a dried orange slice and a stem of mint—and sets them down in the middle of the table. They place their orders.

After the waiter leaves, Vincent shifts his cocktail a little closer to him. He’s not much of a drinker, but his drink of choice is usually on the sweeter side. 

“Does it live up to your expectations?” Yves asks.

“The drink?”

“The cruise.”

“I don’t know if I had many expectations to begin with,” Vincent says. “The ship is bigger than I thought it would be. I’m still finding my way around.”

“Have you explored everything already?”

“Not everything.” Vincent thinks through his morning. “I walked around the shopping center, and then the fourth floor plaza.” he says. “I stopped by the theater, too, though I didn’t sit down for a show.”

He thinks, distantly, that perhaps the ship’s amenities are getting wasted on him—during his walk through the shopping center, he’d briefly thought about bringing gifts back for his coworkers and ultimately decided that if he’s going to do any shopping, it should probably be on his last day here, not his second. “I went up to the deck to see the pools. There were more distinct pools than I imagined—I had assumed they’d all be connected.”

“Did you go swimming?”

“I didn’t.”

“So you just walked around all twelve of the pools,” Yves says, incredulous, “without ever getting in?”

Vincent can see how this fact could potentially be off-putting. “The pools were all pretty crowded. I decided it’d be more symbolic if the first time I change into a swimsuit is tomorrow, after we dock.”

It isn’t entirely the truth. Truthfully—and he thinks this might be worse—he’d been more preoccupied with taking pictures of everything—nicely framed shots of the different pools, the different entrances of the shopping center, the crowds gathered around the theater for the midday show—half so he can have something to show his coworkers when he gets back to work (and thus, dispel any accusations of his own ungratefulness around winning) and half so he can have something to send back to his family (particularly Ji-Sung, who he thinks will get a kick out of seeing all of the amenities).

“You’re really serious about this,” Yves says, looking strangely amused. “Are the vacations you go on always so structured?”

Vincent says, “something like that. The cruise is not the main attraction, anyway.”

“For some people, it is.”

“For the same people who make it a mission to take a swim in all twelve of the pools, maybe,” Vincent says, and Yves smiles.

Yves, as it turns out, is an easy person to talk to. Vincent finds out that he doesn’t get seasick—or carsick, for that matter—but that he feels a little claustrophobic if he doesn’t go up to the deck (“to remind me that we’re actually still making progress towards some destination,” he says. “That way, I don’t feel as though I’m trapped in some giant feat of human engineering.”) He finds out that Yves has two siblings, both of them younger; that most of his extended family lives in france; that he likes vacationing in warm places; that the next time he steps foot onto a cruise, it will probably be with his younger sister and his younger brother. That he’d been working late for three weeks in a row to make this trip happen; that it feels a little wrong, now, to have nothing pressing to do.

It turns out to be a nice night, after all.

—

Firsts.

The cologne is an offhanded purchase. 

It’s not something Vincent thinks much about when he picks it up. It’s on the third day that he purchases it, after he holds too long of a conversation with the sales assistant—who seems to have an uncanny ability for translating whatever it is he says into one recommendation, and another, and another—to feel like he can walk away unguiltily. In the end, he settles with a tall, sleek bottle with a wooden cap. The cap is lined in gold—to suggest that this is a classy choice, presumably—to match the serif lettering on the front, which says Wood & Flame. 

It’s not something he intends on using, either—that is, until Yves messages him, dinner? And then, a moment later: feeling kind of lazy tonight. Mb we can order in 

Vincent texts back, Sure. Let’s order in. 6:30? 

Yves’s response is immediate. You haven’t been to my room yet, right? I can host :) 

It doesn’t mean anything, Vincent thinks, that the dress shirt he picks out is the newest one he owns, that he spends time ironing the creases out of it. It doesn’t have to mean anything, when he lingers longer than usual in front of the bathroom mirror, suddenly apprehensive. Yves is asking him out of friendly camaraderie, and nothing more. He runs another hand through his hair, catches himself, lowers it. Fixes his tie, straightens his collar, finds himself having to fix it again.

With a hot stranger, Yves had said, as if it was nothing. So offhandedly it seemed almost like it didn’t even matter—a throwaway comment, maybe. 

The cologne is an afterthought—he spritzes some on his wrists, and then, upon further thought, sprays some in behind his ears. It’s probably not going to be noticeable anyways, unless Yves gets close enough, which is unlikely. The scent of it is somewhat mild, understated—that had been one of the factors which had led him to pick it up in the first place—even when he lifts his wrist to his face, it’s not nearly as obvious as he expects it to be.

The bottle is large enough that it seems as though it will never run out—the liquid in it seems to be at the same level as before, even though he feels like he’s been generous enough in his application of it. He’s starting to think he won’t have enough occasions to wear it to.

Perhaps he will get some mileage out of this purchase tonight. Or perhaps, optimistically, this bottle will last him the rest of his life, he’ll never have to shop for cologne again in his lifetime. If he thinks about it that way, it doesn’t seem like such a financially bad investment.

—

Through his walk down the long, narrow hallway, and up two flights of stairs, Vincent prepares himself for the moment when Yves opens the door.

He’s still caught off guard, though, when the door swings open. Yves is dressed in a green button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows—the shirt is loose-fitting, but the way the fabric tightens around his arms does not do a good job of obscuring the muscle definition underneath—and well-fitted khaki chinos. His light brown hair is tied up in its usual low ponytail, but the strands which were too short to secure are tucked behind his ear.

“You made it!” He grins—it’s the kind of charming smile that completely overtakes his features—and steps aside to let Vincent in. “Now you can compare how different the rooms are three floors up.”

Vincent looks past him, at the arrangement of the room. “It looks like the same elements have undergone a few different transformations,” he says. “The wall art in this room looks more like it’s trying to remind you what you’re here for.”

Yves follows his gaze to the large landscape painting which hangs in the living room, to the right of the TV. It’s a watercolor drawing of waves crashing onto a white sand beach, except it’s drawn in a way that the waves closer to shore are saturated and dazzling, and the waves further from the shore fade out in color into the horizon. There’s faint detailing of buildings in the distance, too. Vincent is pretty sure it’s supposed to be the shoreline of Nassau, which they’re set to dock at two days from now.

“Huh,” Yves says. “It’s sort of like it’s taunting me. What’s in yours?”

“Mostly abstract art,” Vincent says. “Aside from that, a photograph of a conch shell, up close. There’s also a photograph of a ship out at sea, with no land in sight.” 

Yves laughs. “That’s pretty ironic. I heard that lower floors are better for seasickness. It would probably suck to be seasick, and then when you look up you’re forced to look at some sailboat in the middle of nowhere. Super on-the-nose.”

Vincent smiles. “It’s probably a good reality check.” he presses closer in to leave his jacket—which he is realizing now that he doesn’t need, but which he brought with him just in case, on the occasion that their evening culminates in a night-time walk on the deck—folded on Yves’s couch. “Were you thinking of ordering room service?”

“Yep,” Yves says. “I think everything on there is complimentary except for the wine. Do you need the room service menu?”

“I took a look at it already,” Vincent says. “I recalled that a certain someone does his research early.”

Yves looks briefly taken aback. Then he laughs. “You caught me. I totally did look at it beforehand. Though I was ready to act indecisive if you needed more time.”

“Very gentlemanly,” Vincent says. “Should we call in?”

Yves ends up calling for room service, on both of their behalf. (“That sounds really good,” he says, when Vincent recites his order to him. “It was probably my second choice.” “You can try some when it comes,” Vincent says.) He orders wine, too, to share, and waves off Vincent’s offer to split the cost.

After that, they settle on the living room couch. Yves says: “I’m thinking we can put something on while we wait for dinner to arrive? But probably not something you care about too much, because I might talk over it.” he passes the remote over to Vincent.

Vincent flips through the channels. There’s some sitcom which is playing which seems somewhat suitable, up until one of the couples gets into a sincere-seeming argument onscreen and Vincent thinks that, considering Yves’s semi-recent breakup, maybe everything with romance should be quietly vetoed. He eventually settles on one of those reality TV shows where people have to partake in increasingly difficult obstacle courses in order to not get eliminated.

“These are always fun,” Yves says. “You know about hysterical strength? I’ve always wondered if being nervous on these kinds of shows helps you or hurts you.” 

He reaches up with a hand to scrub at his eyes. Vincent looks over at him with a frown.

“Are you tired?”

“No,” Yves says. He blinks, and then sniffles—if Vincent isn’t mistaken, his eyes are a little watery. 

“Bored of the competition already?”

“Not at all. I think these kinds of shows are manufactured so that you can’t get bored.”

“There’s probably an optimal amount of nervousness,” Vincent says, “to answer your question. I’ve found that to be true with public speaking.”

“Huh,” Yves says. “Does your work require a lot of public speaking?”

“Not particularly. Mostly internal presentations, occasionally a conference.” He looks over at Yves. “If you weren’t tired before, talking about my work is going to make you tired for sure.” 

Yves laughs. “No way. I love hearing about other people’s work.”

“It’s not very life or death. There are no obstacle courses. Just a lot of regression analysis.”

Yves blinks at him. “Do you work in business, by any chance?”

Vincent nods. “I’m a quantitative analyst.”

“Huh,” Yves says, contemplative. “I heard it’s very competitive.” He sniffles again, quietly enough that it almost goes unheard. “You must be good at math.”

“A small subset of math,” Vincent says. “What do you work in?”

“Wealth management. It’s a little more client-centric, so I had to plan pretty far ahead to take time off for thihh-!” The inhale is sharp, unexpected. They’re sitting close enough to each other that Vincent can feel Yves stiffen beside him, can feel the sharp upwards stutter of his shoulders as his breath hitches again. “hHeh-!” He pivots away from Vincent, burying his face into his elbow—polite, Vincent thinks—and then, after a long, torturous moment, loses the fight to a loud, vocal, “HhHEh-IIDZschH-iEEw!”

Vincent wills himself not to look. “Bless you,” he says, staring straight ahead. Onscreen, a contestant loses her balance on a high mounted totem and drops straight down into the water, much to the dismay of her teammates. It is a wholly ineffective means of distraction.

Yves’s sneeze—like Yves—is painfully Vincent’s type.

“Ugh,” Yves says, sniffling again. He lowers his elbow slowly. “Sorry about that. Where was I?”

“You said you had to plan far ahead to take time off,” Vincent says. It’s no small miracle that he remembers this.

“Right, yeah,” Yves says, and launches into a story about the hoops he’d had to jump through to make sure all the clients he was assigned to would have their needs accounted for.

“That’s a lot of work for a week’s absence,” Vincent says.

Yves laughs. “Yeah. Sometimes the pickier clients really hate the idea of not getting round-the-clock attention. I’m— hh-! hHEH-!” He reaches up with a hand to scrub at his nose, though the look of ticklish irritation doesn’t quite leave his expression—Vincent really shouldn’t have looked. After a moment, he lowers his hand, takes in another uncertain breath, as if he’s still testing the waters. “Ugh, I lost it. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. This must be distracting for you.”

Distracting is an understatement. “Don’t worry about it,” Vincent says. “Is it worse during tax season?”

“Oh, yeah. No one in their right mind really takes off during tax season, snf-! It’s not like, officially against any rules, but it’s pretty openly acknowledged as one of those suggestions that’s not actually very optional. That doesn’t affect you guys as much, does it?”

“No,” Vincent says. “My free time is mostly dependent on project deadlines.”

“The ticket you won happened to not conflict with any of those?”

“I brought my work laptop with me,” Vincent says, a little sheepishly.

Yves’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“It’s not like I’m working long hours,” Vincent says. “Just some catch-up work, here and there. I don’t want there to be any surprises when I get back.”

“Always putting out fires,” Yves says, shaking his head. “It’s probably good that you won the—” He reaches over to lay a hand on Vincent’s arm—presumably as a comforting gesture—only he wrenches away at the last second. “The— Hheh-! Hh… hHEH-!” There’s another brief pause, as though whatever is affecting him has left him stranded again on the precipice of a sneeze. For a moment, Vincent prepares himself mentally for another false start.

But then Yves takes in another sharp, ticklish breath, and it turns out to be enough to set him over the edge. “hh’hEHh’iITSSSCHh-EEw!”

The sneeze snaps him forward at the waist to meet the crook of a hastily-raised arm. It’s just as attractive as the first, if not more—Vincent can hear his voice in the ending syllable, can hear the ticklish desperation in the release. Yves keeps his face buried in his elbow for a moment longer, sniffling wetly.

It takes everything in Vincent to not visibly shiver. What are the chances, really, that the attractive stranger-slash-acquaintance he’s having dinner with—someone who, when this cruise is over, he probably will never see again—just happens to have a sneeze which happens to be perfectly aligned with his tastes?

“Bless you again,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“I feel fine,” Yves says, with another sniffle, his eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t think I’m getting sick. I was fine earlier.” 

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of,” Yves says. “No seasonal allergies. Nothing pet-wise, either.” 

Vincent tries, and fails, to think of what else might be causing this. The cabins seem too clean, too well-ventilated, to be dusty. There are no flowers anywhere in sight. Is Yves coming down with something, then? But he’d said I don’t think I’m getting sick, with the certainty of someone who probably isn’t. 

“Let me know if you start feeling worse,” Vincent says.

Yves smiles at him. “I will. I’m really fine, I promise. It’s just—” he reaches up with a hand to rub his nose. A distant look crosses his expression for a moment—as though he’s warring against the need to do something about it—before his breathing levels off. “—tickish, snf! Not unpleasant.”

The sneezing doesn’t stop. Yves, for the most part, proceeds as though he’s completely unaffected by it—he’s no quieter than usual. It’s as though every time he feels the need to sneeze, he is intent on ignoring it until the need is too pressing to ignore. When that happens, he turns away just in time, except for a couple close calls when he misjudges and instead doubles forward with a sneeze directed into his lap, sniffling afterwards. 

Vincent blesses him intermittently, but otherwise offers up no comment. Yves apologizes sheepishly, after the fourth or fifth sneeze, for interrupting the show. Vincent doesn’t tell him that he probably couldn’t care less about the show. Truthfully, he has no clue what’s going on onscreen anymore—obstacle course shows are interesting, but not that interesting.

Dinner arrives not too long after. Vincent can barely focus on the seafood pasta he’s ordered, though he offers Yves a bite, as promised. Yves unfolds one of the napkins room service leaves for them and blows his nose quietly into it. He sniffles afterwards—as though his nose is properly running, now—and resumes talking as usual.

Vincent crosses his legs, does his best to ignore the heat radiating below his stomach. This is really bad timing. The entire inexplicable setup—the fact that they’re sitting so close to each other; the fact that he can physically feel Yves tense beside him, rigid with anticipation, his shoulders jolting upwards with every inhale—is honestly nothing short of torturous. 

It’s worse, too, that Vincent can see the ticklish irritation in Yves’s features—the crease of his eyebrows, the fluttering eyelashes, the sharp, uncontrolled gasp—before he wrenches forward with another desperate sneeze. It’s always a full-body endeavor—something that snaps him forward at the waist, leaves him bent over, a little breathless, sniffling wetly.

It absolutely doesn’t help that the underside of Yves’s nose is slightly flushed red, now, from the unusual attention—perhaps this is to be expected, seeing as Yves keeps rubbing it. More than once, Vincent contemplates asking to use Yves’s bathroom, and subsequently, well, getting rid of the problem at hand. Yves has no idea what this is all doing to him. After all, how would he know?

It’s only when they’re almost done with dinner that it clicks.

“Hold on,” Vincent says. Yves had said he wasn’t allergic to anything, but there’s a first time for everything, right? Particularly, there’s always a first time exposure to allergens. That first time might come later in life for those that are less commonplace.

It seems glaringly obvious, in hindsight. Yves hadn’t been sniffling when he’d opened the door for Vincent, had he? From the way he’d reacted to the first sneeze, it didn’t seem like this has been going on for long.

But of course. He’d been so focused on the environment that he hadn’t considered it. There’s only one thing Vincent did tonight which was pointedly out of the ordinary.

The realization leaves him feeling suddenly cold.

“Yves.” Vincent flinches away. “I think I know what’s causing this.”

Yves pauses. “What is it?”

“I’m wearing new cologne,” he says. “I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it earlier. I didn’t think much of it when I was applying it.” He feels a little like an asshole, now that they’re discussing it. It wasn’t his intention to leave Yves suffering. He hadn’t known. But still, the fact that they’ve been sitting in such close proximity this whole time definitely hasn’t helped.

The last thing he wants to do right now is look at Yves, but he forces himself to, anyway—wrenches his gaze upwards until he meets Yves’s eyes. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve made the connection earlier.”

Yves blinks at him. He doesn’t seem as upset about this as Vincent thinks he should be—strangely, he doesn’t seem upset at all. “Are you saying you think I’m allergic?”

“Allergic, or sensitive, yes,” Vincent says, frowning. “In any case, I take full responsibility. I should probably just—”

“Wait,” Yves says, reaching out with a hand to latch onto Vincent’s wrist. “I haven’t been allergic to anything before.” 

“It’s probably not something common,” Vincent says, wondering if he should pull away.

“You applied it to your wrists?” Yves asks.

Vincent nods, a little stiffly. He doesn’t quite trust himself to speak. It feels like Yves’s fingertips are burning holes into his arm.

Everything that happens after happens in a flash. Yves tightens his grip around Vincent’s wrist, pulls it gently towards him, and leans down to take a long, indulgent inhale.

Vincent feels all of the blood drain from his face. He rounds on Yves, wide-eyed. “What are you—?”

The reaction is almost immediate. Yves drops Vincent’s arm as if he’s been scalded. He shuts his eyes, barely turns to the side in time for a harsh, “hhEHH’iiDZZSHH-iEW!”

The sneeze is so forceful he coughs a little afterwards, his eyes watering. His shoulders jerk upwards again, his nose twitching. “hHEH… HEHH… hehH’IITSSCHh-EEW! Ugh… coughcough, you’re right, it’s defidetely… hHEH—!!”

Vincent can only watch, frozen in place, as Yves jerks forward again, burying his nose into his sleeve. “IHHHh’DZschH-IIEW! Snf-!” He lowers his arm slightly—Vincent can see him scrunching his nose up, trying to rid himself of what must be the worst tickle he’s been faced with all night. That thought sends a wave of electricity down Vincent’s spine. “Hh-hHeh-! Definitely the cologne that’s… hh-! that’s… hEHH… setting me… hh… HhEH’IDDzShHH-IIEW!! —off, snf, f-fuck… hh-Hehh-hhEHH’IITTSHhh-IIEEW!” The sneeze explodes from him, barely contained, snapping his entire body forward with the sheer intensity. Yves barely manages a breath in between before he’s doubling over with another: “IIIiDDDzSCHHh-YyiEW!”

Vincent swallows hard. He’s, well, so turned on that he can barely speak. It feels a little like the heat he feels—more of a full-body-flush, at this point—might actually melt the clothes off of his arms. “Bless you.” It’s remarkable that his voice manages to come out as evenly as it does.

He stands, heads over to the coffee table to retrieve a small box of tissues. Takes in a deep breath.

When he gets back to the couch, Yves has cupped both his hands over his nose and mouth. Vincent tilts the opening of the tissue box towards him without comment. 

“Thadks,” Yves says, with a laugh. He takes a handful and blows his nose. “I needed those. That was probably ndot the best idea, in hindsight.”

Understatement of the fucking century. Vincent stares at him, disbelieving. “Your first idea after learning you’re allergic to something is to test it out?”

“Scientific rigor, and whatnot,” Yves says. “I had to be sure. Like I said, I’ve never actually been allergic to something before. This was quite the… hHeh-!” He raises the handful of tissues back up to his face, his gaze going unfocused. “Just a sec—hh… hH… hHEH’IIDZSCHh-IIEW! snf!”

“Bless you,” Vincent says. “I guess this answered your question, then.” Yves laughs. “It definitely did.”

“I think you—” Vincent places the tissue box—which is at risk of falling off the edge of the couch—directly into Yves’s lap. “—should take this.” He takes a cautious step backwards. “And I should go take a long shower back in my room.”

Yves looks up at him, still a little teary-eyed. “It doesn’t bother me that much,” he says earnestly. “It’s just sneezing. I don’t mind it.” Just sneezing. Vincent shakes his head.

Yves stills, his expression probing. “Unless…” His voice comes out a little softer, now. Uncertain. “...Unless it bothers you?” 

That couldn’t be further from the truth. Not in the sense that Yves means it, at least.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Vincent says. “But I’ve been in your situation before, so I know what it feels like. I… know it isn’t pleasant.”

This information seems to surprise Yves. “You’ve experienced this before too?”

Vincent nods. “Every spring, more or less. I’m allergic to tree pollen.” His face feels hot from the admission—it feels strangely inappropriate to be admitting this, but then again, it’s not as though he’s bringing it up out of nowhere. “You can imagine that’s harder to avoid than a singular kind of cologne.”

Yves’s eyes widen. “That sounds terribly - hhEH-! hH… HEHh’iITSHH-iIEWW! snf-! terribly incodvenient. I can’t imagine having to deal with this feeling for an edtire season.”

“It is. That’s why I don’t want to subject you to this for longer than I have to.” He steps past Yves to grab his jacket from the couch, which he ties around his waist. It will be better for both of them if he leaves now. “I really should shower and get changed. Your symptoms are not going to get better if I stick around.” 

Yves seems to be coming around to this. “Sorry to have to end things off early,” he says, frowning. “You came all the way here.”

“It was barely a walk,” Vincent says. “And this wouldn’t have happened if not for me. I should be the one saying sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Yves says, with a laugh. “It was an illuminating experience. I’ll see you, then?”

The possibility is so fleeting that Vincent almost dismisses it. Could Yves really be disappointed?

“I have some Claritin back in my room,” Vincent says, trying his luck, though a part of him recognizes that this kind of confidence is categorically unlike him. “We can resume our night when you can get through two sentences without having to sneeze.” And after Vincent takes care of something else, and preferably spends enough time in his room flipping through boring travel pamphlets and sensational catalogues to get his mind out of the gutter, so he can face Yves again with some semblance of normalcy. “...If you still want to.”

Yves brightens.

“Of course,” he says, with sincerity. “I’ll look forward to it.”

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞~

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Damian Wayne x Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: mentions of blood, slight cursing, might not be accurate to real ice hockey so I apologize in advance.Damian being a demon on the ice, I wrote Damian OOC, mostly likely, he’s just in love

Damian looks flawless in ice, I’m just going to put that out there. I know he would.

He gets a bit carried away, ramming people up against the walls. That’s what he’s known for when he’s on the ice so the other team tries to stay far away from him, but also try to take the puck from him. Never really works out.

Always get penalized for it too and put in penalty for 2-5 minutes. Is pissed off at that for no reason.

The MAIN reason why his team wins. (Most of the time)

Really loyal to his team. If the opposite side ‘accidentally’ hurts his teammates he’s the first one to skate over to them. Might throw the first punch but it depends 🤷‍♀️ (100% will throw the punch no matter what :))

He gets hurt a lot. Whether it’s him digging with other or simply ramming into thing to hard , theres bound to be blood, a lots of it sometimes. But he always comes back with bandages around the wounds or maybe stitches.

If he does get hurt he puts out a little signal that only you know telling you he’s okay.

His signal in telling you that he’s going to make a goalie and dedicate it to you is literally stopping right in front of you and placing his gloved fist on the clear barricade, giving you a grin.

Buys you the tickets to go to his game. You never miss one. That’s because he says your his lucky charm during the games. That’s why his team wins all the time.

First row right next to his team where he can keep an eye one you and hold small conversations before it’s his time to go back on the ice

Likes to show off.

A lot. Only does it to impress you 

Gives you the puck he made a goalie and won with (is that allowed?)

The crowds get louder and louder as the seconds count down. You're anxious and you don't know why. Damian’s team and the opposing team are tied with points. You’ve noticed Damian’s actions get more violent as time goes on. The more violent he got the more penalties he got which is a time out on the benches. Which means the other team gets a chance at scoring a point without Damian roughly ramming them against the wall. You’re cheering him on as he glides against the ice, but soon find yourself taking a break from the yelling.

Your eyes follow his figure as he glides against the ice, hockey stick in hand as he moves the puck back and forth against the base of the stick. There’s another figure coming for him, one from the opposing team. You cringe, knowing what’s about to happen to the poor person.

Lucky it wasn’t another penalty, but you would hear the crowd gasp witnessing the sight for what seemed like the nth time in less than twenty minutes. But, every time he did get a penalty and put in the penalty box, or as you call it the time out box, you can’t help but laugh. Knowing that Damian was put out for being rough much like how a small toddler would be put in the corner for not listening at all. It was always such a funny sight. Damian rams into the person hard, knocking him down.

“OH!” Dick says from behind you “that’s gotta hurt!” You know he wasn’t talking to you but you hum and nod. Dick and the others know first hand how rough he can be, having been practicing with him last time it didn’t end will with. “I think he gave him a concussion” Tim was also behind you sitting next to Dick, while Jason was no where to be seen.

‘Probably went to go shove his face with food’

Despite being on the other team you feel bad for them and the bruises they’ll be getting the following day. Not to mention the sore body’s they’ll have to work through. You’ve been sitting in the same spot for more than an hour with each game period being at least twenty minutes long, with fifteen minute breaks. Maybe they were shorter but you really couldn’t tell.

Damian misses his shot by a few inches away from the goalie, not being able to stop in time he slams himself up against the wall, the people behind it cover their mouths out of shock and you slap your forehead, shaking your head as you watch him brush it off and continue to play. However, his coach calls him out to replace him with another teammate. He compiles but has a sour look on his face, once he reaches the dry ground he throws his stick. Clearly angry and frustrated all you could do is watch for a while as he takes off his helmet, hair slightly damp from the sweat—giving him helmet hair, all messy and pointing in different directions. It makes you laugh a little. But your sudden mood changes quickly as he sits down head in his hands—running over his sweaty black locks. You don’t think twice as you tap on the screen that keeps his and your row apart.

Damian has good hearing with a small sound so it wasn’t hard to hear you tapping away. He turns to your directions, giving you a small nod. You frown and tilt your head down a little and he rolls his eyes knowing what you're implying and gives you a forced smile. You give him a thumbs up as he scoffs, he watches carefully as you pull out your phone and type away. His eyes never leave you until you place your phone, screen side up against the clear glass divider. Green eyes squinting as he reads away:

‘don’t worry. You got the next goal. I know it!’

That sentence alone makes his heart swell. Damian takes off his right gloves and pats his chest—right where his heart would be two times. A way of saying he appreciate the small gesture.

You take your phone off the glass and erase the previous sentence replacing it with a new one—placing it back on the glass: ‘Have a plan for when you get back on the ice? He quickly reads and nods his head. At least he has a plan, you thought and place your phone back in your pocket. Hands shaking for the cold and lack of warmth you had for them considering the fact that you had forgotten your mittens at home. You focus your attention back on the game. The opposite team ahead by one point— but Damian’s team can do good without him for a while.

He’s out for about half of the game until his coach decides to replace him with another one of his teammates. He taps on the glass to get your attention and once he has it, he Winks at you before making his way back on the ice.

“So are they losing or what?” A familiar voice says beside you and you turn your head, Jason takes his seat next to you with two cups in his hand. “Where the hell have you been?”

“The line for hot chocolate got long” he hands you one “I got you one too, know you stressing over the Demon playing Disney on ice right now” the warm drink warms up your hands a little.

“Thanks. That’s nice of you Jason” You ignore the comment and he hums before he takes a sip of his one drink, eyes scanning the ice before he yells out with the audience. Someone from the Damian team made a shot and they’re tied with the other team.

You go back to cheering him on, the warm drink soothing your throat from all the yelling earlier. It’s later forgotten as you place the half empty cup on the ground right beside your foot— watching the minutes pass by quickly like seconds.

Your heart skips a beat, and not in a good way when the other team shoots their shot but thankfully they fail. With time becoming shorter and shorter it was only a matter of time before Damian took matters into his own hands and his teammates are quick to learn to stay out of it when the time was cutting short and they were off by a point or two, or in this case tied, They had faith in him and so did you.

The seat is now cold from your absence, you’re up on your feet cheering and screaming right along with his brothers who seem to be cheering louder than you. Your eyes glued to Damian as you try to keep up with his figure. He has the puck, sliding it back and forth against the curve of his stick once more.

You don’t have time to think—especially when his helmet makes a horrible sound right up against the clear barrier as one of the players from the opposite team slams into him harshly. Right in front of you as you flinch back. Cheering can be heard from the opposite side of the ice rink which is where the other team supporters were.

Your side falls silent, few gasps and murmurs could be heard. Damian’s back up on his feet, his gloved fist pressed up against the clear barrier. His eyes locked on yours with a glint of mischief and something else. One of those grins grace his lips, one that makes you smile as he waved at you before he leaves.

He’s much faster this time and it makes you think if he was slacking off all this time—or maybe it was the adrenaline that runs high in his veins with these last few minutes. He was going to make a goal, dedicating it to you. Your body feels warm and your heart skips.

“ Ohh~ I know that look” Jason teases from beside you, Dick and Tim are leaning down giving you cheeky grins.

You roll your eyes trying to hide the smile that tries to form itself on your lips “I don’t know what you mean.” You play stupid as you glance back at the game.

fifty seconds left of the last game, everyone seemed to be cheering and calling out those who were on the ice. Damian pays no mind to his teammates as they let him do what he needs to do. You cheer for him, calling out his name. Despite there being hundreds of others yelling out at the same time his mind blocks them out, every single one of them but you. they get louder the minute he gets ahold of the puck swiftly, quickly making his way to the goalie.

His main priority was to get the puck around the goaltender and into the net. He was doing this all for you and you knew that. Those fifty seconds go by quickly, as if you’ve blinked and when you open your eyes ten seconds we’re now left. Everyone counted down, even you. It felt like time went slower once it hit that five second mark, you’ve quiet yourself down and the only thing you can hear is the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You watch Damian has he left up his stick and takes a hit.

Pointing and loud gasp could be seen and heard, half of the ice rink goes quiet—as if the loudness would mess up his plan. Right as the Puck glides under the goaltender and into the net the timer makes a sound—indicating that the game is now over and Damian scores a point, officially breaking the tie. Relief washes over you, hands thrown in the air as a yell of excitement leaves you as Damian’s brothers cheer alongside you. The other side slouches, defeated as your side basically rubs it in their fasts by how loud they were being, but you didn’t care.

A win is a win.

You can see Damian, as he is pulled into a group hug by the rest of his team, some patting his pack and some patting his helmet and shoving it gently as a gesture. The part you don’t notice is him escaping from the group and skating to the Net where he had thrown the puck before he picked it up, waving it in the air like some sort of trophy—however, in this context, it was. He shows it off with pride, making his way towards you.

With a loud yelp you’re picked up by the others, Jason, Dick, and Tim, as they lift you up until you're basically above the spectating glass. Your lover stands below on the other side with his arm stretched out high, he waits. With the help of the others, they hold on to you as you lean done and over the glass.

Your own arm stretches down as you grasp the puck in your hand. His gloves are now off and so is his helmet, his hair pointing in all directions much like earlier when he was away on a penalty, his warm hand grasping yours with the puck still in your hand

“I did that just for you, habibti!” Eyes glistening, you Can’t really tell if it’s from his sweat or his love for you.

“I know!” You laugh “I love you!”

“And I too, love you!” The crowd fills itself with loud cheers and small ‘awes’, watching the sight of the son that belonged to billionaire Bruce Wayne was a rare sight to see, considering how he would rather keep private about his relationship with you.

His warm lips connected to the coldness of your knuckles , making a mental note to bring an extra pair of gloves just for you in the future.

“If you lean down further you’re going to eat shit”

“shush I’m having a moment here”

“just saying”

Tried to make it as accurate as possible bc, again I know nothing about ice hockey. I had googled the rules and watched videos

And god knows how many references pictures I tried to find about hockey. Probably spend like an hour trying to find them just to draw Damian :|

I will be taking a short break from writing requests just bc school is starting in like a few days or so. So I can get my life together and actually have time to mentally prepare myself and fix my schedule seeing as I’ve been up most night until 6 am and waking up at 2pm.

[midnight-talescape]

𝒦𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝓇 𝒦𝒾𝓁𝓁 (𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒱𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇)

Kinktober Day 31: Gangbang

This is starting to become a common reoccurrence.

No I don’t have favorites.

Might draw cute comic of this later after I ignore all the smut.

Anyway I’M FREEEEEEE

Warning: inappropriate use of stand, public oral, very non con, gamgbang, probably a million other thing, yandere, very very non con, ooc, etc etc you get the point not for kid

Genre: filthy filthy smut

Word Count: something kish

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You did a big stretch as you stepped out of the train. Your entire body felt like it was aching, (which was to be expected after a 10 hour ride) but your eyes was filled with excitement as you felt the wind blow through your hair.

This is where your new life start, although you can’t say you weren’t scared of the prospect of being alone in a new town…

But hey you gotta start somewhere right?

You hum a happy tune, before quickly grabbing your luggage and heading towards the place you will be staying at for the time being.

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As you cross the street, you suddenly felt a strong grip on your wrist. Before you can react the hand pulled you back quickly, just in time to avoid being hit by a car speeding through the road.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you whirl around to thank whoever just saved you from what was probably a very painful hospital visit.

The man stood who before you was tall, taller than most man you have seen in your life. His expression was stoic as he stared ahead of you, seemingly more interested in something else.

Your body was still shaking from the adrenaline as you thanks him for pulling you out of the way of the car. Or at least you think it was him, since there was no one else who could have pulled you back.

He finally look down at you, his lips twitched, as if wanting to say something. But in the end he didn’t, only moving his hat a bit lower, covering his eyes from you before speaking,

“You should watch where you’re going.”

His voice was cold, but there’s a hint of something else in it. Almost as if he was holding back from saying more to you.

Not noticing his internal conflict you nodded your head, apologizing again before continuing on your way. Your wrist still tingling as though someone was still holding onto them.

You shook your head at the thought.

Thats absurd.

Theres no one around you.

But as you walked, you couldn't help but feel like you were being watched. Every few seconds, you would turn your head to look behind you, but there was nothing there.

You decided to put it out of your mind for now and focus on the task at hand. You had a lot to do in order to get settled into your new home.

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Jotaro watched as you continued on your way, his eyes narrowing as he felt Star Platinum's desire to follow after you. He could sense his Stand's need to go after you, the way he pulled at him, wanting to stay close to you.

“Star Platinum, let’s go.”

He turn and start walking in the opposite direction, ignoring the way Star Platinum protest, the way he fought against him.

Trying to control Star Platinum was something he wasn't use to. He had always followed his order without hesitation, so the way he was acting was strange to say the least.

“Ora ora…”

Star Platinum turn to look at you one last time, his eyes filled with disappointment before disappearing reluctantly.

He couldn’t understand this feeling.

Couldn’t understand why he felt this intense desire to pull you into his arm, to protect you and have you never leave his sight.

But it doesn’t matter.

He will see you again.

He’s sure of it.

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You stood still as you felt yourself being wrapped in a warm hug. You couldn’t really see what or who was hugging you, but it has become an oddly common and comforting experience for you.

In the several weeks since you have come to Morioh, you had gotten use to the many ghost who apparently just reside in this town, and if you had to be honest you quite enjoy their presence.

After a few minutes you let out a soft sigh and tapped his arm lightly (or what you assume is his arm) “Hey, I have to go now. I will come back later okay?”

Magician's Red stayed silent at your word and for a moment, he seemed to consider not letting you go. His grip tightening ever so slightly as his warmth seep into you.

But then he exhaled softly, dipping his head down and touching your forehead with his beak gently. Almost as if he was giving you a kiss, before finally releasing you.

You let out a soft giggle as you felt the kiss, smiling brightly in his direction, before waving a quick good bye and heading toward college again.

He stood silently as he watch you left, he could still see your warm smile in his mind and it almost made him want to pull you back into his arms again.

Seeing the look on his face and sensing his thought, Avdol walked out of the shadow. Gently patting his shoulders, as if trying to calm him down.

He have already received news from Jotaro about you. You seem to unknowingly attract Stand who comes near you and as of right now they have decided to not do anything about it. Since you seem to be unaware of your power in the first place and it’s hasn’t really cause any harm.

Of course if he had to point out a problem it will be…

Avdol sigh heavily as he looked at Magician Red, the way he stared after you, his body language spoke volume of his feelings and protective instincts for you.

“Let’s go…”

Magician Red was reluctant to leave, but he obeyed Avdol’s words, disappearing into the air.

He knew Avdol was right, there was no point in lingering. But he couldn’t forget the way you fit so perfectly in his arms, or the way you smile at him.

He will be counting down the seconds till he see you again.

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You mindlessly squeeze the invisible tentacle in your hand as you focus on the lecture. As you start to write down your note, you scratch the tendril lightly only to look up when you heard a muffled groan.

“Are you okay, Professor Kakyoin?” Your voice was filled with concern as you look up at him, your hand still unconsciously squeezing tighter around the tentacle as you saw the flushed look on his face,

Kakyoin blinks, his face still flush as he look down at you with a awkward smile. “Yes, I'm fine (Y/N). Just thinking about something.”

He watch as Hierophant Green continue to coil around your limb, a sigh escaped his lip as he discreetly tried to will Hierophant Green away from you. But the Stand seem completely unresponsive, instead moving even closer to you.

You nodded your head at his answer, not even questioning anything as you felt Hierophant Green’s tendrils snaking up your arms and legs. His whole body pressed against your back nestling into the crook of your neck and letting out a please sound at your proximity.

It was clear that the Stand wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around you completely, to pull you into his embrace until there was no space left between the two of you, to wrap around you completely, to hide you from the eyes of others.

Kakyoin sigh internally at the sight, this was not good. He had a feeling Hierophant Green wasn't going to let you go anytime soon.

Maybe he should talk to Jotaro about it after class. He'll know what to do.

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“I don’t know what to do.”

You sat quietly in the corner of the office as you watch Professor Kujo and Professor Kakyoin having a rapid conversation.

“Am I in trouble?” You asked quietly, your body curled up on the chair and Hierophant Green still wrapped tightly around you,

Jotaro and Kakyoin stop talking immediately when they hear your voice, they exchange a glance before turning to you, their eyes twitching as they see Hierophant Green and Star Platinum both still trying to pull you towards them respectively.

"No, (Y/N). You're not in trouble," Jotaro said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "We just wanted to have a chat with you."

Kakyoin nods in agreement, offering you a small smile. "Yes, we just wanted to check in on you, see how you're settling in."

Hierophant Green tightened his grip on you at Kakyoin’s word, as if scared that you would be taken away, practically hiding you from view.

Star Platinum let out a angry “Ora!” before yanking at Hierophant Green's tentacles, trying to pry you free and pull you into his arm instead.

The tension in the room was palpable, the two Stands glaring at each other, each refusing to back down.

Sensing the tension in the air, your hand automatically finding Star Platinum’s hand without much effort.

“Be good.”

Your voice lowered to a whisper as you gently caressed (?) his hand in a comforting motion.

“Both of you.” You added quickly when you felt the tentacle tightening around your arms, your other hand softly stroking the tentacle,

Star Platinum immediately calms down at your touch, his anger dissipating in an instant. He hold your hand gently in his far bigger hand, his eyes closing in contentment as you comfort him. The sensation of your hand in his sending shivers down his spine.

Hierophant Green, on the other hand, continues to hide his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin.

Jotaro and Kakyoin exchange a glance, both of them raising their eyebrows at the sight. They could see the way the two Stands reacted to your touch, the way they calmed and became more affectionate.

It was clear that you had some sort of effect on Stands, a power that they couldn't quite understand.

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“Who’s my favorite strange ghost, in all of Morioh? It’s you, the prettiest kitty cat of them all!”

No you was not possessed and no you’re not crazy.

You have recently figured out that theres a cat like ghost around this cafe and have been coming here for lunch ever since.

Granted the cat is taller then you and have like a 6 pack abs, but it’s act like a cat and have cat ears.

So it’s a cat, clearly.

And who can say no to a giant cat?

Not you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you soooo much.” You said giggling as you felt Killer Queen the soft rumble in his throat as he purr loudly, his ears twitching lightly,

Thank god no one was here to see you.

Killer Queen let out another low, rumbling purr as you gently stroke his ears. His eyes closing in pleasure as you babble your affections to him.

"Mrrrp."

Even if you couldn't see him, he knew you could feel his presence. He leans in closer, his face nearly touching yours as he gazes into your eyes. He silently ask for more love, more affection, more of your undivided attention.

The way you say "I love you" to him over and over in that sweet, gentle voice of yours, almost made him wants to take you away from your life and keep you for himself.

He’s sure Kira won’t mind, he had enough money to keep you happy and he will keep you safe.

Just you and him.

Forever

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You was walking back to college when you heard a scream from above you. You look up and your eyes widened as you saw the flower pot hurtling toward you.

Fuck!

Your body froze and you couldn’t move. The world seem to slow down and all you could do was close your eyes as you waited for impact.

Suddenly you felt a jerking in time, and the next thing you know the World was holding you tightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively. He could feel your body shaking, the way your heart beats rapidly against his chest as you star dumbfounded at the flower pot that’s now shattered against the ground where you was previously standing.

"Muda…"

He whisper lowly as if to comfort you, to assure you that you’re safe in his arm. His grip on you was tight, refusing to let you leave his embrace until you calm down.

“T-thank you…”

I

You managed to say, your body still shaking but calming down slightly. You don’t even want to think about what could have happened if he didn’t move you out of the way in time.

They really are your guardian angel.

He hummed softly in response at your thanks, his hand coming up to stroke your hair.

"Muda..."

He wanted to keep you safe, keep you close. He didn't want anything bad happening to you ever again.

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It was late, and you were exhausted. You laid your head down on the table, your mind still buzzing with numbers and letters that no longer made sense. You felt so tired, but sleep eluded you.

"Mmm... let me fucking die, this sucks..." You grumbled. Your eyelids felt heavy, but your mind was still racing with homework and assignments.

Suddenly, the sound of raindrops pattering against the window could be heard. Weather Report float outside your window, his form blurred by the rain. He could sense your exhaustion, how tired you were.

He can help you sleep.

He focused his power, letting the rain become a soothing lullaby. The scent of petrichor soon filled the air and you felt your eyelids growing heavier.

Sleep...

Your eyes flutter close, and soon, you was fast asleep. Weather Report watched over you, before floating into the room and carefully wrap his arm around you. Pulling you against his chest he carried you to your bed and tuck you into your bed.

Good night, little raindrop…

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The marks left by Hierophant Green on your arms and legs has left you with a troubled expression on your face. The clingy Stand had been leaving more and more bruise like mark on you, and they were getting harder to hide.

With a sigh you sat on the bench, trying to come up with a solution to your problem.

Suddenly, you feel a hand grab your arm, pulling you closer. You gasp as you felt a warm, wet tongue licking your skin, slowly licking away at the marks Hierophant Green left.

“W-what?” Your eyes widen in surprise before you try to pull your arm back, but you couldn’t.

Instead you was pulled into someone’s arm, his breath warm as he continues to lick your skin. His eyes focused solely on healing you, his tongue moving methodically across the marks Hierophant Green left behind.

In your bewilderment he pulls you closer, as if trying to get a better angle to lick you. He nuzzles into your neck, his nose pressed against your skin as he breathes in your scent.

His hands move to your other arm, gripping it tightly as he starts to lick those marks too. He seems determined to heal every single one, to erase any trace of another's touch on your skin.

You can feel his muscles tense beneath your skin, his body trembling with restraint as he tries to control his urges.

“W-wait… stop…” you cried out, your skin flushing as you felt him letting go of your arm only to move onto your legs,

Crazy Diamond ignored your protests, gripping your legs firmly and pulling them apart so he could get better access to your body.

You can feel his tongue dragging across your leg, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. He seems to be taking his time, savoring every moment as he heals you.

He can't bear the thought of anyone else touching you.

The metal on his face press againstyour inner thigh. His tongue flicks out, licking the sensitive skin there, making you gasp.

“D-don’t lick there…” you wailed out, your body shaking as you felt the hot breath on your clothed pussy, “…let me go…”

Crazy Diamond pauses for a moment, his hot breath still brushing against your inner thighs. He looked up at you, his eyes swirling with confusion.

He doesn’t understand why you’re trying to push him away. Why you want him to stop. He’s just trying to remove the mark on your body.

He dragged his tongue along the edge of your panties. You can feel the fabric dampen, his hands holding you in place as he presses his tongue against your clothed pussy.

He doesn't notice that his grip is starting to bruise your skin, that his possessiveness is bordering on dangerous territory. All he cares about is keeping you safe, keeping you his.

You squirm as the sensation of his tongue sent waves of unfamiliar pleasure through your body. You couldn’t see him, only the sensation of his tongue sliding across your skin and the inability to get away.

He hummed against your skin, using his thumbs to push your panties aside and exposing your glistening folds to the cool air. He wasted no time in pressing his tongue against your sensitive flesh, licking and delving into your wet pussy.

He could feel your hands pushing at his head, trying to push him away, but he didn't stop.

He didn't stop until he felt you cumming, your nectar flooding his mouth. Only then did he pull away, looking up at you with confusion in his eyes.

He didn’t understand why you were crying, all he wanted was to heal you, to remove the mark on you. He reached up to wipe away your tears, his touch gentle as he pulled you against his chest.

“Dura dura…”

He just want you to only have him.

｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡

You stood up and get ready to leave the church, your legs still shaky from what happened merely hours ago.

You was silent as you remembered what the priest said.

It was okay at first, just a few invisible being in your life. Invisible friends that you can talk to, people in your life do you won’t be so lonely in a nee town.

You hadn’t expected them to… to do whatever the fuck just happened.

Maybe it’s safer to be unable to interact with them.

Your eyes suddenly widened when you felt yourself pulled into a closet, a hand on your waist and the familiar feeling of something invisible holding onto you.

He pressed you against the wall, his free hand moving to grip your chin, forcing you to look up so he can see your eyes.

He knew what had happened with Crazy Diamond, he had heard it all. The way he touched you, the way he made you cum. It made him angry, jealous, violent.

How dare some other stand touch what was his.

"Don't worry, I'll make you feel good. Better than any of those other stands could."

He didn't give you a chance to respond, to react at hearing him speak, his hands already working on removing your clothes. He was determined to have you, consequences be damned.

He lean down and capture your lips in a bruising kiss, forcing your mouth open as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

As you choked on his long tongue, his hands moved to your skirt, yanking them down along with your underwear. He kicked your legs apart, his fingers immediately seeking out your pussy.

Without warning, two fingers forced their way into your tight hole causing you to cry out at the sudden intrusion. You can feel every ridge and callous on his fingers, the metal on his knuckle scrapping your wall as he stretch you painfully open.

Hearing your pained whimper he finally broke the kiss, his breath hot as he growled into your ears, "Mine," his eyes wild, his voice low and possessive. "All fucking mine."

He didn’t care about your comfort, only his desperate need to claim you as his own. As he finger you harder, the only thing you can hear was the wet squelching that echo in the small closet, mixed with your cries.

"Fuck, your little cunt feels so good wrapped around my fingers. I bet it'll feel even better around my cock." He groaned out, before pulling his fingers out with a wet pop,

He lined himself up at your cunt, the head of his cock nudging against your abused cunt. With one hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, splitting you open on his thick cock.

You scream, your hands scrabbling at his back as he immediately started to move, not giving you time to adjust to his cock.

Each thrust jolted your body, your breast bouncing with the force of his movements. Pain was mixed with pleasure, your body torn between crying and moaning.

"Take it, fucking take it," he snarled against your skin, "This is what happens when you let other stands touch you. This is your punishment."

Your cries of pain and pleasure filled the small space, bouncing off the walls and mixing with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin. White Snake didn't care if anyone heard, all he cared about was making sure you never forget you belong to him.

You were lost in a haze of pleasure, your mind blanking as he fucks you senseless. You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you, your pussy clenching and fluttering around his cock.

Tears stream down your face, your lip trembling with the intensity of it all.

You feel like you're going to break.

"Please, please..." you sob, your hands scrabbling weakly at his arms. "Please, it hurts..."

He ignores your pleas, picking up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm and straight into another.

"Look at you, cumming so hard on my cock. You were made for this, made to be fucked and used."

With a final, brutal thrust, White Snake buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself in your tender cunt. You could feel his seed painting your insides as it filled up your womb.

But he didn't stop, didn't pull out. He kept fucking you, using your body like a cocksleeve, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into your womb.

You were lost, drowning in pleasure, your mind breaking. You could only hold on as he used you to his heart’s content.

｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡

You opened your eyes weakly, your body feeling like it had been through utter hell. Your pussy was raw and aching, the pain radiating through your core.

As you looked around, blinking away the haze of exhaustion, you saw a strange white humanoid with spikes and clouds surrounding it looming over you.

You tried to speak, to ask who he was and where you were, but all that came out was a pained whine as you felt something warm pouring into your already abused cunt.

Glancing down, you saw Hierophant Green's tentacle spreading your swollen pussy apart, allowing Weather Forecast to pour water into your pussy, washing away the remnants of White Snake's cum lodge deep inside you.

Around you, the other stands were gathered, their postures tense and angry. They didn’t speak, but their intentions were clear - they felt anger towards White Snake for touching you first, but that didn't stop them from wanting to claim you themselves.

“W-what? Who are you guys—“ your question was stopped short and a muffled wail escaped you,

The World loomed over you, his muscular form casting a shadow across your face. His hand pressed against your stomach, causing a gush of water and cum to pour out of your pussy. His presence was oppressive, the air around him heavy and suffocating.

Killer Queen stepped forward, his imposing figure moving with a predatory grace. He leaned down, sniffing at your neck, inhaling your scent. His large hand came up to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

Star Platinum moved closer on your other side, his presence like a physical weight. He ran a hand down your side, his touch almost gentle compared to the others.

Magician Red watched from the back, his bird-like head tilting as he observed the scene unfold. The bulge in hid pant belying his serious nature.

Weather Forecast continued to pour water into your pussy, the liquid sloshing out around Hierophant Green's tentacle. The wet squelching sounds filled the room, obscenely loud.

After a few more round of that, you can only let out soft cries as you try to curl up. Your legs unable to close as they force it open again, your eyes wet with tears as you look up at them wondering if it was finally over.

But to your dismay Killer Queen grabbed your legs, forcing them further apart as he moved between them. He lined up his cock, rubbing the tip against your sore entrance.

Your body arched as he pushed inside his ribbed cock scrapping against your walls. Hierophant Green’s tentacle thrusting in tandem with his cock, making you feel fuller then you ever thought possible.

Your hands clawed at the sheet in futile, your body shining with sweat as you’re force to take in their cock. You instinctively let out a scream when you felt them flipped you over, Magician Red’s cock pressing against your ass. His cock felt like a burning rod against your tender flesh, and you could swear you saw flame surrounding it in your peripheral vision.

But very soon it was no longer your concern when you’re head was forced up and before you can react Star Platinum was shoving his cock down your throat.

You let out a whimper as you were use from all side. It was painful, but the sensation of having so many of your most sensitive part use so brutally was shattering your mind. You could barely keep track of who’s using where and how long it continued.

One second you were getting fuck on both side by Killer Queen and Magician Red, the next you were getting eaten out until you were a sobbing mess by Weather Forecast.

The most fucked up part about this?

You could sense their thought, their feelings and their desire.

They didn’t want to hurt you.

They just want to claim you until you were filled with nothing but their essence, until you can no longer leave them and can only stay beside them as they take care of you.

It was cruel.

It was violent.

It was their sick twisted for of love.

You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.

As you felt another load of cum shot into your womb, your body a mess of cum, bruises, and bite mark, it was finally over.

You let out a weak tremble as they pulled out of you. You couldn’t tell who picked you up and hold you against their chest. Their hand now gentle as they cleaned up your abused body, as though they weren’t the one who just gangbang you for god know how long.

Your eyes felt too heavy to open, you let out a soft little sigh when you was carefully placed onto your bed and they soon all crowded around you trying to get as close to you as possible before quieting down.

As you drifted off into a deep sleep you heard them whispering to you.

Their voice filled with love, obsession, and desperation.

Please love us

｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡

Stand Name: Kiss or Kill

Stand Appearance: None

Ability: Obsessive Attraction

Kiss or Kill is a psychological Stand ability that deeply affects the minds of other Stand around the user. When activated, it causes any Stand who perceives the user to experience intense, uncontrollable attraction toward them. This infatuation starts off harmless, with the affected individuals simply drawn to the user, but it rapidly escalates into a form of dangerous obsession.

Those under Kiss or Kill’s influence become fiercely possessive, even violently protective, willing to do anything to keep the user safe or close to them. As the obsession grows, affected individuals may turn against friends or allies, viewing them as rivals. In the most extreme cases, they will hurt the user in order to keep them safe with them.

The obsession are activated passively with no way for the user to stop or control.

[freaknerd33]

Hello! I hope you’re having a great day/night!! I had this idea but I’m lacking my writing skills so here we go,

Mirage and octane dating their s/o (l HC that octane would date someone the opposite of him, the rare occasion that he will stop just for them) but their s/o want to keep it a secret because they’re scared people won’t like that they are in a relationship in general (like when kpop celebrities date someone and their fans go crazy toxic) idk if this makes sense but thank you and take care!!

HELLO!! I have emerged from finals ٩( ᐛ )و on that apex grind to celebrate. Hope y’all are doing good. :) And that I captured the vision for this one!

also imagine the internet in the 2700s… has to be a thousand times the hell it is right now.

Dating the Legends in Private

pairings: mirage x reader / octane x reader

content included: private relationship situations, relationship boundaries, gn reader, semi-fluff?

—————𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 —————

Mirage

༻ Mirage has a lot of things. Money and success from the bloodsport he made his career. A reputation and bloated ego followed around by cameras.

༻ But he’s never had love before. Not in the way he does with you. And it’s an entirely different thing from all that…

༻ It’s not something you can just show to the public so easily. But he really wants to.

༻ “I love you, so my fans will love you!”

༻ It doesn’t really work like that… with the Apex games being so big, Mirage is nothing less of a trending celebrity. That’s too many eyes peering into your relationship, you think.

༻ And people online can be heinous.

༻ Though his ecstatic pitch and sweet smile almost had you sold on the idea, you had to mention your concerns over the tougher realities of being in the public eye alongside him.

༻ He knows, but he loved the idea so much he was hoping you’d wanna risk everything for it like he wants to…

༻ He’s a little sad, but of course he keeps you off his social media as you wish; no questions asked.

༻ He probably thinks about it further and also starts making himself less recognizable when he’s in public with you. Wouldn’t want a fan or paparazzi disrupting a date with you after all.

༻ Not to mention the idea of anyone saying something below respectful or endearing of you makes his chest puff a little. He’d have no qualms confronting the source of the act. Online or otherwise…

༻ Wouldn’t be too surprised (or disappointed) if he got into a controversy for that!

Octane

༻ We’re well aware he lives on social media.

༻ Phone and selfie stick always on hand. Livestreams during the most casual of times.

༻ So I can imagine that if you didn’t let him know about your boundaries beforehand, you’re gonna find yourself in an awkward situation where a camera is shoved in your face and honestly— depending on how much you really don’t wanna be seen— you might catch your boy off guard with the harsh shove you gave his arm when he moved to pan the camera to you.

༻ He just thought a semi-regular appearance with the two of you together would be nice. Sure, he’s an adrenaline junkie, always doing crazy stunts, and that’s what people wanna see. But daredevil activities are not the only thing that make him happy.

༻ You make him happy too, so he wants to post you. But he completely understands the turn it could take.

༻ Realistically, I imagine him sneaking a photo of you onto his social media anyway. Perhaps a blurry portrait of you. The candid, aesthetic kind that has you mid smile.

༻ Whether you scold him for technically going against your wishes or not is up to you.

༻ And depending on how serious you seem with wanting to keep your relationship separate from his public persona, he’d probably think back on how he handled that. He’d start to feel a little regretful. It makes him realize he may have lost some of your trust. And he definitely doesn’t want that.

༻ He decides to take down the post and apologize to you. Sure, there are still screenshots and reposts out there. But that’s all they’ll ever see of you from this point forward. For once, he’ll take this seriously.

༻ And for a guy who isn’t known for handling consequences well, the idea of negative comments from celebrity articles or the typical weird, possessive behavior from fans upsets him and he now understands your reasoning more.

—————𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 ————

banner source

[bakasara]

Trying to parse my thoughts on Izzy's death and why I had a different reaction to it than I thought I would. To summarize: I thought I wouldn't like it, but also that they wouldn't do it; the opposite happened– they did it but I'm ok with it.

I'm also feeling like talking through some mourning for an amazing character, so follow along if that's you, too 😌

(I should probably clarify the following thoughts are coming from someone who deeply enjoyed this season.)

I first wondered what would be of Izzy around the end of season 1. I expected him to have a heel-face turn – which I object to calling a redemption arc and I'll get into why, because the distinction ties into his death imo. A lot of antagonistic characters' changes of heart end directly in death, but I thought they'd subvert that trope. And they... did, actually, despite Izzy dying. Not an option I had imagined.

What the show avoided is the logic, the set of tropes attached to the deaths of this kind of character. These deaths usually come as a consequence of the character's changed ethics or "redemption". My being against that scenario came from the diverging natures of traditional redemption arcs and OFMD's rhetoric.

A traditional redemption arc functions by a kind of catholic logic, if you will: the villain can become one of the good guys by balancing out his "sins"/bad deeds with enough good deeds to tip a moral scale. This often involves a purifying suffering, which acts as an agent to expiate one's faults. To the viewer, this suffering can serve to activate our empathy and make the character more sympathetic. It can also legitimize his quest: our trust in the character's good intentions comes from seeing that the character is ready to make sacrifices to become better and he isn't deterred by the hardships of doing the right thing.

The death occurring at the end of a traditional redemption arc acts as the ultimate sacrifice and/or purification. A number of ideas might be at play behind it, depending on each story: only in death can the soul become fully pure, or a final sacrifice is "needed" to demonstrate the change once and for all, or change was only possible up to a point after which there is no viable/acceptable future – the character deserves moral points for changing, but not so many that he also deserves a full life, or past crimes make him more expendable, etc.

But these are all ideas that aren't evoked in any of the crew's journey in OFMD. For starters, the show isn't interested in "catholic" redemption; its focus is on reintegration/rehabilitation into the community. Rather than appealing to the more traditional (in Western media) and more christian principle of "purification of the soul through mortification of the body", it plays with notions of restorative justice.

We see it especially this season with Ed and Izzy. Ed's arc is a whole little lab for it. We have the community being made to decide whether he can stay or should leave; catbell!Ed is made to apologize to the people affected – which he initially does abysmally, with what fandom has dubbed his "CEO's/YouTube apology". Later, he's given the opportunity to have a more honest and genuine conversation with Fang where he learns about how he hurt him. He's made to repair some of the material damage his behavior caused. Some members feel repaid by the idea that they did to him the same he did to them (Fang) while others don't (Lucius), and the show touches on what this means for each/legitimizes both feelings. Arguably, Ed using his treasure to throw Calypso's birthday party – a much needed refrain and moment of social (re-)connection within the community – is an additional form of reparation. While Stede's belief in Ed has a clear role in helping Ed change for the better, Izzy's s2 journey focuses even more intensely on the role of social support within an individual's constructive (re-)integration into their community. The show is condensed by choice of format, but the beats are all there.

With that kind of rhetoric set up, I'd never be able to accept Izzy dying in a way that feels like a punishment for his past crimes, nor in a way that should "confirm" his positive change/"purify" him for good. And he doesn't! By the time he dies, we know full well he's deeply changed, it's already established to completion. How it happens has nothing to do with proving himself – he's randomly shot in battle. It's never questioned that the time he got to live surrounded by affection mattered. The speech he gives Ed is only possible because he's changed, accessing a completely different perspective on piracy/life than before, like we see when he talks to Ricky earlier. The reason the whole crew is paying respect and crying is because he became "the new unicorn", a treasured member with a defined role. But his death itself is the show going back to the initial symbolism of Izzy as ultimate pirate. The narrative function of his death is underscoring that the age of piracy has come to an end. It's nothing to do with his change. It's posited as the "natural conclusion" (again, by symbolic function) of a character that represented piracy through-and-through, not the "natural conclusion" of a process of becoming better.

And for me, that difference changes everything. I can see and accept the logic behind it, even as I mourn Izzy as a character. It makes the grief feel like a catharsis I experience within the context of the story I'm watching, rather than a grief I feel from a show "betraying" me.

It's also a difference that completely changes how Izzy's death relates to his queerness. Izzy's change is intertwined with being able to express queer affection openly. Becoming "a unicorn" is this extremely queer imagery already – a magical rainbow creature. His role becomes akin to a mother to the crew (the mother hen!Izzy many headcanoned last season, tapping into his potential), a position that isn't extraneous to older queens, including our honored real-life mean-old-queer men. Last season he threatened another queer man for showing too much delicacy, effeminacy, vulnerability. Now, his change is a process that culminates in him singing a tender love song among the crew in drag. He's given the privilege of playing the soundtrack to our protagonists making love for the first time, which ties him symbolically to the event in a way it does no other crew member. Suffice it to say that insinuating his process of change should end in death would have been disastrous, as far as I'm concerned. Antithetical to the show's supporting ideology.

But that's not how it went. Grief occupies a big role in the queer community, but it's so rare that we get to experience it cathartically. In real life, we often have to contend with the ways queerphobia causes us trauma or even shortens our lives, or the lives of our friends. In fictional narratives, a lot of characters that get to express queerness unabashedly still die for the transgression. They're still usually the only queer character with relevant screen time or at all, at best one of two that formed a tragic couple.

We almost never have the opportunity to just mourn some motherfucker who died because they meant something else as well that was central to their character. To mourn and know we're mourning someone who wasn't ever punished for being queer-as-in-fuck-you and going all out. To mourn and not feel like it's another message of queer doom, because for once the character is surrounded by an entire crew of other queer characters that go on to live and be happy. To know the story is saying something about life, not about being queer. To know this kind of crafting was deliberate, too, because the creator has talked about working to avoid those tropes. I struggle to remember another time I had the opportunity to grieve for a queer character like they're a human being, without the implication that it's queerness itself that's a death sentence.

And honestly? It feels good. It feels like a form of catharsis I do not dislike. That I'm maybe kinda glad for. OFMD is and stays a magical world. Beyond that, in a show full of queers, one of them dies after getting some extraordinarily meaningful happiness, and it's peaceful, and I get to just be sad for the fucker without the gutting of being reminded that if you're gay, better not shoot too high. It feels like a completely different emotion that no other show, for now, would give me, but OFMD. To me, it's yet another thing it's pulled off.

As it's been known to do.

[dsireland86]

OMG if you are willing could you do a Craig Reynolds x fem reader and i was thinking maybe like a Roommate to lover thing for them and he has like a sudden realization of his feeling maybe seeing her talk to Nick or Matt?

I apologize to the Anon who requested this a while ago. Life gets in the way a lot sometimes.

Roommates

Tags: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @thefallenangel @fadingintothegrey

Craig pulled into the parking garage of his flat from another long day at the studio. One more successful podcast down, two more to go before tour started for him and his band "The Stray", so knocking these things out were critical in order for him to put all of his effort into practice and rehearsals.

Checking his phone on the way up the lift, Craig noticed the text he received from one of his American friends, Folio, telling him that he and his band were headed over his way on their latest tour and wanted to catch up. Craig was excited as he quickly wrote out his response in a massive 'hell yes, brother' before hitting send.

He entered the flat, closing the door behind him and locking it. He tossed his keys on the end table and removed his jacket, dropping it on the couch as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked it, immediately chuckling at Folio's response.

"Such a little fucker, that one is," he muttered while typing.

"Who is?"

Craig looked up and saw his roommate of the last year, walking out from the kitchen. Y/N looked amazing as ever: her hair piled up on top of her head, her favorite apron hanging around her neck, and a curious look on her beautiful face. He smiled the moment he saw her, frozen where he stood.

"Craig," she called out, grinning at him. Y/N had such a pretty smile, one of the prettiest he'd ever seen.

"What? Oh, sorry," he apologized, shaking himself out of his daze, smiling back at her.

Lately, Craig found himself getting this odd nervous feeling in his chest and would occasionally get lost in thought whenever she was around him. The times they'd spend together, cooking up a meal or binge watching t.v. were turning into some of his favorite things to do, and he couldn't understand why. She'd been here for over a year already. Nothing had changed. Had it?

"Anywayyyy," Y/N laughed, "who's the 'little fucker'," nodding towards the phone in his hand.

"Oh, just a friend from America. He and his band are coming here for the start of their European tour, and wanted to catch up. Just an inside joke he reminded me of that had me laughing."

"Oh cool, what band is he in?"

"Just a small metalcore band. You've probably never heard of them since you don't really listen to that kind of stuff," Craig shrugged, bracing himself with his large hand on the back of the couch. His eyes followed her, unable to look away for a second. What the fuck was happening to him?

Y/N began to straighten the blankets and pillows on the opposite side of the cough frowning the moment she noticed Craig's jacket tossed into the pile of fluff. His focus took a detour, paying more attention to the way her brow creased and lips pressed into a thin line at whatever had her distracted. She was perfectly adorable in all the right ways.

"What's wrong?"

"Your jacket doesn't go there, Craig," she scolded.

"What?" Craig straightened up looking around him, confused.

"There, on the couch," she implied, nodding towards the garment in question.

He realized quickly what she was talking about, grabbing his jacket immediately. He didn't like the feeling of being scolded by someone like Y/N. She made him feel bad, like he'd disappointed her, and that was something he never wanted to do.

"I'll just, uh, I'll just take it to my room, mum," he joked, grinning the moment her eyes lit up from her smile.

"That's not what I was aiming for," Y/N muttered quietly.

Craig laughed, walking around the couch and pulled her into a hug.

"Awe, I'm only kidding! I appreciate everything you do around here, keeping things tidy and in order. God, I hope you never plan to move out. This place would go to shit for sure if you did."

When they parted, Y/N cheeks held the perfect shade of pink.

"You're blushing," he pointed out, caressing her cheek softly as he looked down at her.

"Am I?" She brought her hands to her cheeks, covering the proof of her embarrassment.

"Yeah, that's alright, though. I like that color red. It looks lovely on you."

Slowly, Y/N looked up at Craig, still encased in his arms, and smiled softly. His heart was racing the longer he held her. And the longer she stared into his eyes, the more he realized he wanted to desperately kiss her. Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket, killing the mood instantly. Y/N flew out of his arms, taking a step back.

"Fuck me," he sighed, watching her nervously play with her fingers, refusing to look up at him. He pulled out his phone, pissed that it was a call he actually had to answer.

As he talked, Craig watched as Y/N finished tidying the living area and wandered back into the kitchen. He cursed silently to himself for having to kill the moment between the two of them, vowing to himself to make up for embarrassing her in any way that he might have.

A few weeks later, Craig was meeting with Folio and Matt, at a local pub. While everyone enjoyed a few drinks and some food, they spent the next few hours catching up on life, music and touring.

"So you'll be over here for a while then. No plans of going back to the States anytime soon?"

Folio shook his head. "No, not yet. We have a six week lineup, so things will be busy." His eyes quickly darted behind Craig, to the girl who'd just walked in, distracting him.

"Earth to Folio," Craig laughed, kicking him from under the table, while Matt nudged his shoulder.

"What? Sorry. What did you say," Folio apologized.

"What are you looking at?" Craig asked?

"Yeah, what's up, Folio?" Matt asked, taking a sip of his water.

"Nothing," Folio lied, lowering his head to hide his slight embarrassment. "That girl over there just got my attention for a second. Anyway, what were you saying?"

"What girl?" Craig's head snapped around, looking behind him.

"Are you talking about her?" Matt said, flicking his head at the bar?"

"Oh her!?" Craig shouted. "Oh that's Y/N. She's my roommate. Has been for about a year now," he informed, turning back around and taking a huge gulp of his beer.

"You have a roommate now?" Folio asked,brows creasing.

"Wow, wow, wow, wait, you have a girl roommate, now?" Matt corrected.

"Shut the fuck up," Craig laughed playfully. "What's it matter if she's a girl? We're friends."

"Hmmm... friends? With benefits?" Matt teased, grabbing a handful of fries.

"Fuck off, Dierkes! It's not like that," Craig scolded, jokingly.

"Dude, she's fucking hot," Folio added, taking a sip of his beer, unable to keep his eyes of her.

A restless feeling began to grow in the pit of Craig's stomach.

"Oh, you think so, huh," he asked, rubbing his fingers over the scruff on his chin.

"Yeah, she is pretty cute," Matt added, eyes peering over Craig's shoulder.

"Huh. Well, she lives with me not you, so the two of you can fuck off and leave us alone," Craig joked, nervously laughing hoping to drop the conversation of how hot and cute the three of them thought Y/N was. Not that he didn't notice. For days now, ever since that night in the apartment where he found himself longing to kiss her, he'd started noticing little things about Y/N that he hadn't before; things he ached to touch and feel.

"Hey!"

Craig's knee slammed into the table, startled by her hand on his shoulder and the sound of her sweet voice.

"Bloody hell!"

"Oh my gosh, Craig are you okay!" Y/N cried, covering her mouth with her hands to hide her amusement.

"Yeah man, what the fuck," Folio teased, picking up his empty beer bottle that fell over.

"Motherfucker that hurt," Craig cursed, rubbing his knee under the table."

"I bet it did. Did I scare you?" Y/N asked, taking the empty seat next to him.

Craig tossed his head around. "Yeah, a little," he chuckled, finally looking up at her. God she looked stunning. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, highlighting the color of her eyes. It was right then, especially knowing that other guys were looking at her the way he felt for her on the inside, that Craig realized the truth. He was falling for her; hard and fast.

Y/N tossed her back, laughing about something in the story Matt and Folio were telling her. Something about the way she was involved with his two friends sitting across from them was making him jealous. He found himself clenching his jaw multiple times or balling his hand into a fist beneath the table to keep from laying it on her thigh. He had a sudden possessive feeling for her that he didn't have when he walked into the bar tonight.

"Hey, Craig, you alright, brother?" Folio asked, dragging him from his thoughts. Y/N looked over at him and smiled, tucking some hair behind her hair.

"You okay? You got really quiet," she said sweetly.

Craig nodded, reassuring her with his most convincing smile, which didn't work.

"What is it?" She asked, furrowing her brows in concern. Her hand made its way over to his knee, sending electrifying shivers down his spine. Her touch felt different tonight compared to all the other times before, and the gleam in her eyes seemed to sparkle for him a little brighter.

Craig reached over and laid his hand over hers, watching the way her expression lightened and a small smile appeared on her lips that she moistened with her tongue. He was one hundred percent fucked. There was no way he'd be able to do "just friends with her" anymore.

"Come on," he said, jumping up from the table and grabbing her by the hand. "We need to talk."

"Okay," she agreed, startled by Craig's sudden outburst. He led her outside, the coolness of the Scottish weather hitting her quickly.

"Craig, what is this all,"

"I fucking like you, alright? I like you. A lot. Like more than friends like you."

He stared at her, searching her face for any sign of emotion. He found plenty, they were just all mixed, making him think maybe he should elaborate more so she'd understand.

"Okay, look," he said, liking his parched lips. "I didn't realize how much you affect me, how your presence affects me. It's like," Craig ran his hands over his head, rubbing the top out of frustration.

"Every time you walk away from me, I feel empty. When we're not doing something together like cooking or watching t.v., I can't keep my mind off you, wondering what it is you're doing or if you're safe. I thought," he paused, feeling relieved when he noticed the slight grin on her face.

"I thought it was nothing until tonight. Knowing that Matt and Folio both think you're hot and mentioned something about getting your fucking number, it just did something to me. I don't know. I just... fuck," Craig sighed, exhaling hard.

Y/N moved in closer to him, playfully tugging at his shirt. Craig's heart was pounding against his chest and he was pretty sure she could hear it, given how close she was to him. Her chest was almost flush against his.

"Matt and Folio think I'm hot?" she asked, making Craig's heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" he cried, moving away from her.

"I'm kidding! Craig, I'm kidding," she laughed, grabbing him by his arm and pulling him back over to her. "I'm really kidding," she reiterated, picking at his shirt again, this time peering up at him through her long lashes, making his heart beat quicken again.

"I knew that," he lied, partially grinning.

"No you didn't," she giggled, shaking her head moving closer to him.

Craig slipped a finger beneath her chin and raised her face to look at him. This time he didn't hesitate. Leaning down, he gently laid his lips on hers, lingering there for a moment just to see what would happen. She threw her arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss, and pressing her body hard against him. His hands found her hips, quickly trailing them to her waist and wrapping his arms around her, securing her body tightly against him.

Their kiss deepened, turning into a heated battle of hungry tongues and needy hands. Y/N was even better at all of it than Craig imagined. The longer he held her, the more he felt her melt into him and it made him so damn crazy about her. They parted, both of them out of breath and disoriented about what just happened.

"I'm guessing you feel the same?" Craig asked quietly, lacing their fingers together.

"Mmmm, no, I just wanted to see what it felt like to kiss you. Also, can I still give Folio and Matt my number?"

"Oh fucking,"

"I'm kidding," Y/N laughed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

"You really have to stop doing that, if we're going to try and make this thing work between us," he muttered, laying his forehead against hers.

"Why? It keeps you on your toes," she grinned leaning into his kiss.

"Oh God, is that how this relationship is going to go; you always keeping me on my toes, stressed out and worried all the time?"

Y/N laughed again, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Maybe. I guess we'll see."

"I guess so," Craig smiled, gathering her up into his arms and holding her close.

[peekawoocc]

LAW X READER

P.s. ok, so I wrote this within the span of a day, so if there's any mistakes, I apologize. As I mentioned in the first part, this loosely goes along with the actual chronological events of the Wano season of One Piece. If I missed any important details, I'm sorry. I'll probably do one or two more parts. The last part will probably take a while because I'm still watching Wano.

CW: Smut, Oral sex (reader recieving), yes we get cockblocked yet again my dudes.

Cockblocked in Wano Pt.3

You followed after Law once he walked out due to his fight with Shinobu. You knew he and his crew never ratted the Samurai out. To be completely honest, you were just as mad as Law, which seemed impossible considered the sour look he had.

How could Shinobu have accused the Heart Pirates of such betrayal? How could she say anything bad about them when they had Bepo? You would've killed for Bepo. He was a whole reason on his own for why you could no longer stand there and listen to her accusations.

As you were lost in your thoughts, you were suddenly brought back to real time as you accidentally walked into Law's back. Somehow you were at the Polar Tang.

"If you'd rather go back and be with your crew, I completely understand," Law said carefully.

"Oh, i-its fine. I don't think I could handle being near Shinobu anyway, not after that. Now's not the time to be pointing fingers,"

"I completely agree y/n. I'm not stranger to being accused of being the bad guy, I'm a pirate after all. Oh well," Law said with a hint of appreciation in his voice. He could tell you were on his side. Always loyal and kind.

You followed Law as he entered the submarine. It was quiet. Perhaps too quiet. But how could you possibly know? This was your first time in the Heart Pirates home base.

Law walked towards one door way and then turned to look at you.

"Stay here for a moment,"

"Okay,"

Law looked around the shared quarters belonging to his crew. He saw a few faces and noticed they were all sleeping. No hints of danger.

Law exhaled a sigh of relief as he turned back to fetch you.

"It seems everyone's getting some rest, follow me,".

And you did just that.

Not sure where he was leading you, you felt yourself get nervous with anticipation. You knew you could trust him, that's not what worried you. What worried you was the idea of being completely alone with Law. No interruptions. No more having to worry about being walked in on like this morning. However, you two had already gotten into some fun once already. Maybe it could happen again. Your heart fluttered at the thought.

"These are my quarters,"

"O-oh?"

"Maybe we should try to get some rest too. I wasn't expecting to be woken up so suddenly this morning,'

"Yeah, sorry about that,"

"No need to apologize. Hell, I should be thanking you if anything,"

"What, why?"

"I can't tell you the last time I slept for hours like that without waking up 3-4 times from nightmares. It was strange, but it was really nice. And I think its because of you,".

He opened the door to his bedroom, smiling as he did. You felt yourself blush at his kind words.

You took a good look around his room. It was well kept and clean. There was a desk next to a bookcase in one corner, filled to the brim with folders, books, and various documents. Everything from medical books to comics. On the opposite side of his room was a bed. You were surprised to see how big it was. You were expecting something smaller due to Laws lanky, skinny figure, but it made sense. His legs are so long and he must toss and turn a lot if he has trouble sleeping, must need room to sprawl out.

"Mind helping me sleep again?" Law asked without looking at you, he was blushing slightly.

"Sure!"

You felt yourself flush slightly, you felt like you sounded too eager to cuddle with the black cat-like man.

But he didn't acknowledge it. He put Kikoku against the wall and his hat on his desk before making his way to the bed. He watched you make your way towards him and generously held the blanket up for you to snuggle next to him. You prompted yourself up slightly as you laid down, pushing Laws shoulders down and pulling him in front of you.

Before he could ask what you were doing, you answered his thoughts.

"Lay your head on my chest,".

This caused Law to glance down at your breasts as he gulped audibly. How cute, you thought, as you saw him get flustered. As you watched his expression, you felt some boldness due to the sight of how weak your body made him. You giggled and before he could look back up to your eyes, you grabbed the back of his scalp and pushed his face down into your breasts. You heard him gasp into your chest and began giggling more.

As you did, not paying much attention to the man suffocating into you, Law slowly lifted his gaze to your face as he gently bit your displayed cleavage.

"Ouch, what was that for?" you asked, giggling calming down.

"Clearly you're not tired enough for a nap, maybe I should help tire you out," he smirked, and dove back down to suck on your exposed skin. Your giggling was replaced by sucking in your breath as you felt his lips on you. Law began trailing down to your right nipple, dragging his tounge towards it as he pulled your his kimono to the side, opening your body to him more.

He gently sucked on your nipple, and brought his right hand over your unattended tit.

You let out a shaky low moan. Not even loud enough to be considered a whisper.

"L-Law? W-what are you aah~, d-doing?"

He let out a low chuckle, almost growling as he spoke.

"Following through on my promise, I meant what I said,".

He winked at you before diving back down on you, slowly kissing his way lower and lower until he was completely covered by the blanket. Conventially, your legs were already spread for him to hold his body in between. He stopped his trail of kisses and pressed his open mouth to your left hip, sucking in your flesh in between his teeth as he bites you. The bite is gentle at first, but it becomes stronger, earning him a gasp from you. He chuckles again as he makes his way lower. Slowly he places wet open mouth kisses on your inner thighs.

"L-Law!" you whimper, desperately needing to feel him on your core.

He began biting at your thighs, but suddenly stopped.

"Law?" you asked, curious as to why he pulled away.

Suddenly the blanket was gone, and Law had a hungry, devilish smirk on his face.

"I want you to watch me turn you into a mess," he spoke calmly.

Before you could respond, he started devouring you. Pulling moans out of you as your head falls back.

He started sucking lightly on your clit, just enough to make you crave more of him. As you bucked your hips to encourage him, he didnt seem to get the memo.

Letting out a groan of frustration for not getting what you wanted, you looked down at the hungry man between your thighs. You were met with a gaze that seemed to have already been staring at you.

Law smirked. "Bout time you looked at me. Watch me and I'll give you what you need," he said as he began to pick up the pace.

It was exactly the kind of pace and pressure you needed. You started to feel the coil in you getting closer and closer to snapping. Then he added 2 of his beautiful fingers into your entrance making his way to your sweet spot as he lapped and sucked on your clit. It didn't take much after that to make your vision go white as you rode out your orgasm.

After you came back down to reality, you panted as you looked back down at Law. He was licking his fingers, swallowing down your essence. If he didn't give off black cat energy before, he definitely resembled the actual thing with how he licked his hand. It was cute.

"Thank you, that felt amazing,"

"Too soon to thank me, sweetness. I've got more in store for you,"

"Oh really~. Like what, exactly?"

Law slowly started crawling over you, hovering above you.

"I was thinking about fucking you until you went dumb on my dick-"

*Bang Bang Bang*

"CAPTAIN!? IS THAT YOU!? ARE YOU BACK!?" a female voice called from behind the locked door.

Not again. What happened this time?

"Dammit," Law sighed, he sounded desperate as he pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

He lifted his head back, raising an eyebrow.

"Do I have time to-...get prepared?"

"CAPTAIN WHAT DO YOU MEAN!? THIS IS URGENT! SHACHI, PENGUIN, AND BEPO WERE CAPTURED!"

"Why can't anyone stay out of trouble," he began. Though his words sounded harsh, you could hear the sloght tremble of worry they carried.

"Coming!" he yelled at the voice behind the door.

You heard some footsteps shuffle away from the door.

"Not in the way I'd like to...," Law sighed with furrowed brows. All you could do was giggle.

"Come on, we need to go find your crewmates,"

"Not we, I got it. It's not your responsibility. Oh, and two more things-"

"What?" you couldn't help sounding slightly dissapointed to be away from him.

Sensing your disapproving tone, he hoped that what he was about to say would make you cheer up.

"-First thing, don't tell the Straw Hats about my crew being captured. I'm going to get them back,".

You understood why he didn't want Luffy to know. You knew Luffy would cause more trouble breaking down walls to help Law rescue his crew.

"Ok, what's the second thing you wanted to say?"

"When I get back, I'm going to fuck you so good, you'll want to join my crew instead," he smirked at you. You went completely red. You were so hot and bothered it looked like steam was blowing out of your ears.

Law giggled and got up to reposition his kimono. He started making his way to the door, then he looked back at you fondly.

"Wait for me, sweetness,"

"I-i will,"

And with that, his mission began.

[nami-moittli]

U should talk abt ur digitwst au

YAYY YAYY!! THANK YOU!!!

Okay, so to start this off: Digitwst is a crossover AU I have that focuses on the freshman of twst as main characters in a digimon show. Hence the name: Digimon: Twisted Wonderland AKA Digitwst. I’ve had this AU for over a year now, so I bet that a lot of what I say here is actually something I’ve said before whether it be in a post or ramblings in tags or what have you. But of course, as I’ve had it so long some things have changed from their initial conception or been not really elaborated on. I’ll try to talk about as much as I can in this post, so yeah!

Now, as I said, it focuses on the freshman as it’s main characters, (with Ortho Shroud serving as the “season’s” 6th ranger character, more on her later) Yuu is the mainest protagonist being the goggle head of the group (for those who may not know, almost all of the digimon protagonists wear goggles, with the only exceptions I know of being Marcus/Masaru of Savers/Data Squad and Hiro of Ghost Game. So the goggle head is basically just the main character/leader of the group) in this AU Yuu uses she/they and her partner digimon is of course, the one and only Grim!

Grim is a special case, as he’s a digimon yet his name doesn’t end in the usual “Mon” suffix, nor can he digivolve. He also gets a slight redesign to make him look more like an actual digimon, which includes giving him the digital hazard. A thing in which I’ll have Wikimon explain for me for convenience:

Fun fact there is an actual real digimon called Grimmon, but he has like, no relation to our Grim, of course. All of this adds up to a bit of an overarching mystery about what the hell’s going on with Grim, but it’s not all too important right now

Oh yeah, everyone’s been aged down as well. 16 is a bit too old for a digimon protag gang for the most part, so all the freshmen are are 12 now (and probably need to get a new name for their group lol-) this is also very inspired by the OG Adventure, and so everyone (minus Ortho Shroud) went to Night Raven Camp before falling into a lake in the middle of the woods and waking up scattered around Sage’s Island in the Digiworld

Now, for the other kids and their digimon, I’ve heard the relationship between the kids and their digimon is usually a complement or a contrast as for the most part the series focuses on the kids and uses their relationship with their digimon as a conduit for the kids growth, so I’ll get into that

Ace and Funbeemon: If Ace is blunt and isn’t afraid to call people out, but also refuses to say he genuinely cares for his friends, Funbeemon is the opposite. She’s often sympathetic and caring, but has a hard time voicing her own frustrations, instead wishing to keep the peace. (Oh wow I’m just now realizing that sounds a lot like Trey lol) Funbeemon keeps Ace in line and Ace helps her stand up for herself, basically

Her line is as follows: Funbeemon -> Waspmon -> CannonBeemon (and probably split evolution to Vespamon) -> QueenBeemon

Similarly, Deuce’s partner, Crabmon is also a contrast to Deuce, with Crabmon being the one with the brain cells. He’s much more calm and rational than Deuce (who’s currently started going through his delinquent phase) and such.

His line is as follows: Crabmon -> Coelamon -> Whamon (perfect) (/split evolution probably to Divermon) -> Cthyllamon

Jack and Gaomon are very similar, but I feel like Gaomon is a bit more, idk, incompetent? Bumbling? A bit less strait laced? Not sure. Apologies, I know that Jack is your wife, he just doesn’t take up enough space in my brain for me to think about this often, sorry 😔

Anyways, Gaomon’s line is: Gaomon -> Garurumon -> WereGarurumon (?) -> FenrirLoogamon

Next up is Epel and Salamon. They are also very similar in things like their stubbornness! Epel did not want to be partners at first but Salamon wasn’t having any of it. By being able to see himself in Salamon and learning to love her, he grows to no longer hate femininity because if his partner is the coolest ever, and she can be very cute, feminine and beautiful, then while he might not like those things about himself he can learn to be okay with it

Salamon’s line is: Salamon -> Rabbitmon -> Angewomon -> LovelyAngemon

Ortho Shroud does technically have a partner, but it’s a bit complicated. I’ll get too it later I think, but for now it’s: Cutemon -> Boarmon -> Cerberumon -> Anubismon

Sebek and Pulsemon, AKA Zippy! Zippy is just like Sebek, but like, way more energetic. If Sebek is loud and boastful, then Zippy is loud and, again, energetic. Sebek will proudly proclaim how great Malleus is (even if his admiration is a bit diminished bc of the lack of fae heritage) then Zippy is running around him like a little kid. Think almost, ADHD little boy

Zippy’s line is: Pulsemon -> Runnermon -> Boutmon -> Kazuchimon

So, as I said it starts in a summer camp but that gets very quickly discarded when the six kids get isekai’d to the digital world via weird lake in forest and end up scattered. Fun fact, I’m actually writing a fic for Digitwst, one on ao3 but that’s been discontinued because I decided to rewrite it lol. The basic plot will stay roughly the same though.

Anyway, the first arc, the prologue if you will, is the kids becoming partners with their digimon and meeting up with each other. Some characters will be represented by digimon counterparts, because this is in fact a series where they get stuck in the digital world and so, digimon. Crowley is represented by Yatagaramon and Ambrose is Wisemon. They’ll appear sometimes to help or ask for some. In the prologue, they advise the kids (I need to get them a group name lol) to find the Great Seven, mega level digimon who’ve been around as long as anyone can remember. They say that they’re lucky that Sage’s island is a port island because a ship is setting off to the Queendom of Roses - Queen Rosemon’s domain - very soon and that they’re lucky should board the ship and try to get an audience with her to ask for her help. In the meantime, they’ll do their own research, just in case

And so, there starts the basic story loop. I want their adventure in the digital world to last about 10 months, to reference the fact that twst takes place over a school year. About a week or so I wanna say is spent on the prologue, then about a month or so for each arc after that, with the exception of book 7 taking place in month 10 as their last adventure before they return home, with about 4 months to get in some event stories

Now, finally, the thing we (me) have all been waiting for, Ortho Shroud!

To start this section off, I will need to establish something: during the duration of the story, the time conversion rate is 1 minute to 1 month. Meaning the 10 months the kids spend in the digital world is a mere 10 minutes in the analog world (what I call the ‘real world’ because that name implies that the digital one isn’t). An important thing to note is that Ortho Shroud is not a robot in this AU. She is just an AI, and in that means that she has no body in the analog world, and cannot enter it. The most she can do is appear in screens, and even then she usually just resides in the app that Idia made for her. A single day at that conversion rate is 120 years Digiworld time. Not to mention that the time conversion rate doesn’t even stay consistent. Sometimes it’ll be a year a second, sometimes it’ll be 6 months for every one month. Basically, what I’m getting at is: Ortho Shroud looks to canon! Lilia being nearly 700 years old and says those are rookie numbers

Please remember that during all of this, she is still just a 12 year old. Sure she may be so old that she’s stopped counting, but mentally she’s twelve, and having to go through this. She’s not having a good time, basically

This is worsened by her working at STYX. At first she was fine with it. She got to research as much as she liked and got to visit her brother whenever she wanted! She was being helpful! But eventually, those visits to Idia became the only times she left STYX. The director of STYX, Lord Plutomon of the Great Seven, favored her immensely. He would spend all his days in Tartarus telling everyone that if they needed to spend to him, tell Ortho Shroud and she would tell him instead. It’s fine, that’s fine! Only then all the work that he was supposed to be doing, and she was basically the acting director of STYX. Totally fine, totally. If only the lord acted like she was his favorite. Whenever they would talk, he would be cold and distant, seemingly trying to get the conversation over with as quick as he could

Fine! That’s fine! She’s his favorite, but he also hates her, amazing! At least she has her brother, right? She still has those moments of being able to leave her duties and just hang out with her brother, right? Well…

Let’s just say they have… some slight miscommunication issues. As in, they never tell each other anything truly important. Hell, Ortho Shroud hasn’t even told him that she’s a girl! Or that she’s not eight! And Idia, isn’t better either. At least in canon, the two can stand side by side and touch each other. They’re on the same level. But in Digitwst, they’re locked behind a screen, I actually drew something for this but never ended up posting it lol

This is basically how they see each other, both literally and figuratively. Take it as you will, I can only hope that this is making you as mentally ill about them as I am.

At least in canon, Ortho knows why she was made, for sure no questions. But here? All she has is theories and red string, which makes the fact that she and her ‘brother’ have never met in person sting even more

She says the only good thing about STYX (and she’s tempted to say her life in general, but she does truly love her brother still) is her dogs. Cerberumon is always there for her, and seems to genuinely care for her (even if she is a bit suspicious) and the two Dobermons, even if they can’t speak. But even then, they’re still just coworkers. Ones she would kill herself if they weren’t at work together with, but still, just coworkers. (Not that she’d actually kill herself over that, but, Y’know)

I could go way more into her and her story, but that’s it’s own 40 page essay lol. So to wrap it up, Ortho Shroud, AKA Adesius of Digimon Twisted Wonderland, I diagnose you with depression and probably anger issues as well. Have fun!

Anyway, that’s it for now! If my autistic/ADHD ramblings have intrigued you despite not knowing much/anything about digimon, feel free to ask about it again!

[monstermag]

Meet The Editors: Atlas

-- Who are you (persona) ?

Atlas is a creative little bun with not enough time. They love dark fantasy and eccentric world-building. You can call them by any pronouns!

-- What do you do (art, writing, sculpting, singing, etc)?

These days, when they have time, they enjoy writing! They have been doing it since they were little and just never stopped. They spend a lot of time roleplaying now since it is easier to pick up and put down.

-- Top 3 Monsters

Demon

Half animals/hybrids/weres

Vampire

-- Top 3 Romance Tropes

Slow burn

Opposites attract

Size difference

-- Share something with the class!

Atlas started the magazine after having several years of experience working on their university’s writing publication. They recently stepped back from the lead editor role to work on their Master’s degree.

Thank you Atlas!

Bonus content below.

SEEN? WHYWOLF SIGHTINGS INCREASE!

"I saw one on Europa Station. He had glowing eyes, tore through a bulkhead like paper, then apologized for scaring my cat." – Anonymous report

Full moons aren't just for Earth anymore. From the icy rings of Titan to orbital colonies in Centauri space, reports of Whywolves: creatures driven by a desperate need to know, not devour, are flooding in. Several smarties have reported being cornered and aggressively quizzed on Transcendental Federationism. Some blame terraforming, others say it's latent DNA responding to alien lunar resonance. Either way? They're tall, toothy, and dangerously dateable.

🧛‍♂️💘 QUIZ: WHICH MONSTER IS YOUR SOULMATE? 💘🧛‍♂️

A personality test for those who like their romance with a side of supernatural.

1. What's your ideal date location? A) Abandoned graveyard at midnight B) Deep space observatory during a meteor shower C) Volcanic cave hot springs D) Rooftop in a futuristic city during a lightning storm

2. Your love language? A) Biting (affectionately) B) Whispered telepathy C) Heated debates and physical sparring D) Brooding poetry

3. Your dream gift? A) An enchanted silver locket B) A star map made of obsidian C) A flaming sword D) A haunted diary

4. How do you handle conflict? A) Howl, then cuddle B) Vanish for a century C) Fight, then kiss D) Sulk until someone notices

5. What's your fatal flaw? A) Too loyal B) Mysteriously unavailable C) Hot-tempered D) Emotionally tortured

💖 RESULTS:

Mostly A's: 🐺 Werewolf Soul Mate – They're wild, protective, and always down for a moonlit run. Mostly B's: 👻 Ghost Soul Mate – You love mystery and eternal longing...and the idea of a ghost floating through you. Mostly C's: 🔥 Demon Soul Mate – Passionate, powerful, and probably going to drag you to hell—but in a sexy way. Mostly D's: 🧛 Vampire Soul Mate – Elegant, tragic, goth. Get ready for an eternal situationship.

 No wrong answers... unless you matched with a werewolf AND a vampire. That's a red flag, Loca.

🚀 NACELLE TECHNOLOGY JUST GOT SEXY

"It felt like kissing physics itself." – Pilot Nova V Crusher

Interstellar travel just got steamy. The new PulseCore Nacelles glide through space-time like a plasma knife through a Earth bagel, combining technology with style. Their graviton twist drive cuts warp turbulence and delivers smoother warp-space jumps. Your ship doesn't just move—it reforms time and energy around itself.

Even hotter? The nacelle casings are made from emotion-reactive alloys. That means your vessel glows differently when you're excited, calm... or falling in love at 90% the speed of light.

Ships now come with "Mood Ring Mode." Blue for Chill vibes Gold for Romantic tension Red for Probably a space demon attack

Still craving more? Check out our latest edition of Monster Heart Magazine by following this link.

[mdhwrites]

I'd like your authorial thoughts on the following:

Given Luz' and Amity's interactions across season 1 of The Owl House could Luz be considered to have been Amity's Manic Pixie Dream Girl? If so, how do you see that trope evolving (or devolving) over the remainder of the series?

So I have a romance writing lesson I'm going to hijack this ask for but first to answer it: Probably? I feel like one could complain a lot of good romance stories use a character like this so I don't know how useful it is as a label. Not only that but a common complaint I have about Lumity is how Luz doesn't actually try to do jack shit to push back on Amity or actually question her on her shitty behavior. Like sure, we know she doesn't like Amity being mean but at best we get a single confrontation about that that Amity doesn't take seriously. It's never a problem actually addressed and Luz never tries to evoke any other life lessons out of Amity. It's why Amity feels like most of her changes just happen because "Girl pretty" because little actually pushes her to change except the mere existence of Luz.

HOWEVER

This stops HARD come S2. Even by Winging it Like Witches, we see Amity going out of her way to manage Luz's emotions and fuck ups. Where she has to be constantly accomodating because otherwise Sad Luz is a thought she just cannot fathom, even when in shit like Looking Glass Ruins, Luz seems to think an apology is enough, or how she won't change by Reaching Out about actually caring about Amity's well being (such as not noticing her girlfriend getting hurt) but also now with her breaking her word and continuing to lie to her, both things that will also come up in Thanks to Them where she's willing to lie to Amity for months before sending her to her death on the Isles without her.

This begs a bigger question: What of these two that attracted them to each other originally is still there?

We know pretty easily why Amity likes Luz. Explicitly she thinks Luz is kind, pretty, earnest, stuff like that. If we want to read into her character in S1, since it's pretty clear Amity is already crushing by Adventure in the Elements and probably started getting her feelings in Lost in Language, it's because Luz is honest with her, open and free in ways that Amity wishes she could be or wishes her family was with her. It's classic opposites attract. It also helps that early on in the show, her family seems to have transactional love while Luz seems to not require people to prove their worth to her. With Luz, she knows she's always got her heart in the right place, will make up for what she's done and Amity doesn't have to fear what Luz is thinking because if she were to ask Luz, Luz would tell her. Hell, that last part is literally what Eclipse Lake is about. Luz's openness and honesty.

Aaaaand then S2B starts with Luz keeping secrets and lying to Amity. She also steadily becomes less of a weirdo, over the entire show honestly, and more just this troublemaker who seems to mostly do things just for herself. Who can easily be manipulated through the fact that she's selfish, such as with Philip and with Eda's mother. She very easily starts ignoring other's problems because of her own, like in Reaching Out, even as she'll claim she's focusing on you but all of her actions are the exact opposite. This is how we get "I don't want to distract you," while she is willing to distract Emira while healing Amity or joins the tournament because she finds Amity being in underground witch fights that could potentially severely injure her, on a day when Luz is thinking about death and loss, as BORING. Also, instead of Amity not having to ever prove herself to Luz, to not have to worry if Luz is going to stop trusting and believing her, Luz CONSTANTLY isn't trusting or believing of Amity and so Amity keeps having to try harder and harder to make Luz happy. To manage her emotions when, you know... That is kind of the exact opposite of why Amity was probably attracted to Luz. Did she understand she'd have to save Luz from herself? Sure but not because Luz would literally lie to everyone and shirk responsibility. She expected it to be because she accepted jumping Dead Man's Gorge so one of her reading kids would stop being picked on.

So yeah, why does Amity still like Luz? I genuinely expected them to break up in Reaching Out because of this. Because Luz showed that when she's miserable, she is NOTHING like what Amity saw her as and trauma and pain is not an excuse to be a terrible person. I would have still liked them to get back together but like... Otherwise, the show ends up saying that it's okay to lie to your partner so long as you have an excuse. That is abhorrent.

(Smart, Cool, Classy)

But on the flip side of things, what about Luz? Well, we get less overt declarations from Luz than we get from Amity. By what is stated... Well, "Cotton Candy Haired Goddess" and "You're smart, classy and cool," are really all we get and that's from Knock Knock Knocking. Smart is good, cool is fine, classy is okay too but they're very vague and the one emphasized, especially over and over, is how pretty and popular Amity is. Even back in Adventure in the Elements, where the show seems to want to be when they both catch feelings proper but Luz is a dense brick, those are the traits she focuses on. How strong, cool, pretty and popular Amity is. Luz's focus seems to commonly be on very superficial elements of Amity and with her misconceptions of Amity as the series goes on, it's easy to assume these never change.

If we try to go into Luz's character though like I did with Amity though, it gets WORSE. Luz is supposedly someone who fears rejection and has been bullied in the past. However, she seems to have zero fears about Amity as a bully or her being cruel to her. Admittedly, we do get two in character reasons for this: One is from Lost in Language where she admits to wanting to befriend Amity as a fiction trope, which is GOD AWFUL... But somehow the next one is worse? In The First Day, she isn't talking about Amity but she talks about hoping to find a 'vulnerable upperclassman' like one talks about a romantic partner. As such, Amity's damage is not something to help her with but something that continues to check boxes for Luz.

BUT.

If we are kinder, she likes Amity because of opposites attract. Amity is more serious, in control and smart than Luz. She has confidence that Luz doesn't think she has (examples nonexistent of course with how little Luz gives a shit about anyone's opinion) and a grace to her the clumsy nerd does not. So if we go off of those, does Amity lose those?

Yes. In S3A she seems to not be able to control her two left feet. She shows herself to be a complete disaster much of the time. In Escaping Expulsion, she's called out for letting her grades slip and Amity just loses all of her edge and real personality. She'll still continue to do things, to have things grafted onto her but her priorities are always Luz and not any of the drive or the like that might have attracted Luz to her in the first place. This is how Reaching Out ends with Amity caring WAY MORE about Luz's actions and the like than anything her father does and with her really just wanting the right to tell her father fuck you than actually wanting to properly repair their relationship like she claims. The goal is Luz. Always.

"But Luz could see who Amity actually was and was attracted to that!"

I have heard this sort of argument too many times not to talk about it. Let's pretend that's actually the case. That Luz was attracted to a possibility, rather than the person in front of her. That "I can fix her," is a good and healthy mentality. Okay, what is the 'real' Amity then? Well, she's nice, kind of awkward but can then step up to be a badass when she has to be.

I also just described Willow and Luz is not attracted to Willow. She literally never shows attraction to anyone like that. We actually do get an idea for what her type is after all. Her first blush is with a tortured, brooding dickhead in the second episode. She blushes at the twins who are teasing and rowdy. She likes trouble. She does not get attracted to Viney or Willow though despite both having very similar personalities to what Amity will eventually have. So why does she choose Amity?

Because she's the most conventionally attractive. That appears to really be it. It's the only thing that A: Amity doesn't discard of herself and B: that Luz seems to care about that actually stays true to the character over time. And don't tell me that Amity got smart in other ways. She is not a tactician and her strategies are always the bluntest. To reference Escaping Expulsion again, she is the one who posits going for a full frontal assault. Hell, in Falls and Follies, she's making mistakes in her Spanish studies. We don't see much real intelligence from her after S1. S3 made sure she has no class and Knock Knock Knocking explicitly points out that Amity is not as cool as Luz thinks she is.

Why does this matter though? Well... Because chemistry matters in a romance? Because in fiction, we should be able to understand what in the world attracts these two people to each other? Going, "It's love, they don't have to explain it," is the exact same problem as "It's magic, I don't have to explain it." It's purely relying on suspension of disbelief and believing that just because something doesn't have to have an airtight explanation doesn't mean it doesn't have to still follow the rules or examples you have set. People HATE when magic suddenly does whatever the author needs it to just as much as they hate when someone goes "I love you" in a movie after two hours of not seeing a single reason these two would get together.

As such, if in your romance story you have the character development of your characters remove everything they found attractive about each other... Why are they still together? Not even just because that's a thing in the real world but just in the fiction. There's no reason for them not to just be friends now so why are they still saying "I love you," if they even want to be friends still? It makes the conclusion of your work not scan and so your romance falls apart.

And I mean... Clouds on the Horizon even explicitly makes this clear. In that episode, Amity uses Luz as a way to calm herself. Uses how she'd tackle things, her care and the trust she has in Luz to make her not worry about being trapped at home. But is that accurate to Luz? To Luz, who in that episode decided NOT to go save Amity because she wanted to small chance that she might be needed for the bigger plan in motion instead? Despite having no role there and potentially making their stealth mission harder? Or who goes on to not engage at all with Amity's family drama, even as Odalia threatens to force to break them up? Where is the care that Amity was drawing strength from? The silliness that attracted her to Luz? ANYTHING that was there all the way back when that pushed Amity to kiss Luz in that episode?

Because as far as I'm concerned, Amity's Manic Pixie Dream Girl didn't just become a real person. She turned to sludge and why would Amity want to date sludge? See you next tale.

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