#because no matter if they are from a small or bigger company

[bandzboy]

i don’t know if you’re an army but yoongi did not write snooze for his “fans” to go and shit on the very juniors he was trying to comfort with the lyrics

i am not exactly an army i'm more of a casual listener but i know the song and it's a very nice song really but also this brings up these discussions i've been seeing on twt about how some armys don't even read their lyrics or even care much about their music as much as they say they do and it's sad

[suguann]

✎. he’s nice. well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you.

tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, simon is an excon, non-linear narrative for future chapters [18+ only]

part one | part two

He’s always been a little obsessed with pretty things, even as a child.

It only makes sense that the habit would follow him into adulthood.

He sees you once while he’s walking by the bus stop. A timid thing wrapped up in an oversized sweater and parka coat, not looking up from the little book in your lap until the bus stops before you and takes you away.

The next time he sees you, he makes sure to come a few minutes earlier, lighting a cigarette and keeping his distance while he watches you read the same book from the day before. Simon knows it’s you, the girl from the letters, even if it’s a big city. It has to be—his pretty, lonely, silly girl.

He thinks about walking up to you just to make sure, but he doesn’t really need to. The address on the envelope brought him here, and you’re the only one he’s seen wearing a university sweater in this neighborhood.

But when he hesitates too long, a boy starts talking to you, and he watches you smile at somebody else.

Simon runs his thumb over his bottom lip and takes a deep breath to fill his chest with the soothing feeling of menthol and the burning taste of nicotine, trying to relax his white-knuckle grip on his steering wheel. 

You’ll learn, he thinks, when the bus drives off, and the boy doesn’t follow you on. He’s a patient man—it’s possibly one of his finer qualities.

He lets his car idle as he climbs out before crushing his cigarette bud underneath his shoe, straightening his black tie, and crossing the street. The boy sees him and freezes, but Simon can only laugh, wiping blood off his cheek several seconds later.

You’ll learn.

He’s nice.

Well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you. But nice, you've learned, can mean any number of things: a nice laugh, a nice house, a nice job, et cetera.

But how he holds himself—tall, broad, and dangerous—hardly screams nice.

It’s funny because you don’t remember seeing him around the office before—the company, including IT, occupies only four floors in the building. 

Someone tells you he’s a friend of a friend. This initially sounds odd until Rose, the office gossip, says he’s someone rich who helps fund the company's social events. Hence, the crisp suit and the wide berth of space you’d give someone who wields their smile like a weapon. 

You quickly look away twice when you find that smile aimed at you, heat traveling up to your hairline at an alarming rate.

It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not your type. 

“Enjoying the party?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice so close to your ear. Careful not to spill your drink, you turn your head to find him smiling down at you with a sharp curl of his mouth.

Then he’s in front of you, eyes dark and crinkling in the corners.

“Uh, yeah. It’s not bad, though,” you squeak nervously when you realize you haven’t answered him. “It’s different from what I’m used to.”

He raises an amused brow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He’s intimidating up close, and you take a small sip of your drink to ease your nerves. “Well, no kegs or trashy music playing, and boys with egos bigger than the room.”

The man lets out a low chuckle as he considers your honest reply, and you swear you see something ripple across his features, but when you blink, it’s gone. “I suppose that differs from top-shelf liquor and live bands, huh? Which is better?”

You shrug. “Well, it depends on who you ask.” 

“I’m asking you.”

“Honest answer?” 

He nods. 

“Neither. I don’t really care for parties.”

“Then it’s quite unfortunate that you found yourself at one tonight.” He seems privately amused, in on a joke you have no part of. Then he says, “You want to get out of here?”

“I probably shouldn’t follow a stranger home,” you tell him bashfully.

“That’s very responsible of you. Then how about I get you a drink? There’s a hotel across the street, and the bar’s not shit.”

You bite your lip, and his big, warm hand is on the small of your back before you say anything. It must’ve been written all over your face like he knew you would say yes.

He’s ever the gentleman, unlike most boys your age. Though, perhaps that’s the difference. He isn’t a boy—nothing about him can hardly be described as such. This fact becomes a bit overwhelming and more evident once he has you on your back, thighs nearly up to your ears, and held in place by a firm, intricately tattooed forearm.

His smile—almost too sharp to be nice—makes your chest do this silly thing when he says, “Let’s play a game.” 

You whisper into the night air. “What kind of game?”

“It’s simple. You tell me yes or no.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of the rules of the game. “But—”

The slap against your cunt isn’t harsh, but it’s the suddenness of it, how no one has ever thought to touch you like that, is what makes you squeak and tremble underneath him—the rings on his fingers sharpening the sting—trying to scurry up the bed, but hindered by his iron grip.

“Yes or no?”

“Y-yes.”

“There’s a girl,” and then his fingertips drop down to where you're slippery-wet and sensitive, moving in hard, tight circles until you're clenching down on a curse between your teeth. "Messy little cunt."

It's too much, you think when he plugs two fingers (feeling like three of your own) into your pussy. The muscles in his shoulders roll as he shoves his fingers in and out, batting your hands away when you try to get him to slow down. Too much, too—

“It’s not. I want you to cum like this,” he says, teasing, nudging your clit with his thumb and swirling it in tight spit-slick circles; you have no choice but to chase that bright light feeling until you cum, sticky and sweaty. 

Just like he promised you would, your orgasm is a shivery thing, molten heat, incandescent, settling in your veins until it pours out of you like liquid wax against the scratchy hotel sheets, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his fingers curl up and press into where you’re soft and tender.

He smiles. “This is fun, isn’t it, love?”

“I can’t,” you whimper, not exactly answering him. “No more, please.”

His eyes, already pupil-fat, go dark at hearing you beg, nostrils flaring. Please, the key for the small amount of mercy he grants you as he replaces his fingers with his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit and lightly sucking it into his mouth. His lips are just there, and then they’re gone.

“Say it again.”

Your response is a wet little hiccup at the back of your throat. “W-what?”

“Beg me.”

“Please.”

“Again,” he says one more time.

“Please, please, please…”

It’s all you can think to say, strung between that dreamy space and reality, that you don’t even notice him flipping you onto your tummy with ease, not until the light in the room is blotted out as he leans over you. He wraps a hand into the scruff of your neck and presses your face into the bed, the other tucked under your hips to keep them at the right angle—held down with nowhere to go.

He leaves biting open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck—Simon—he manages to tell you his name from one little bruise to the next. Somewhere between the buzz in your ears, you hear him telling you that he wants you to moan it for him, nice and loud.

The haze clears a little, however, at the metal clink of a belt and the sound of a zipper coming undone before you feel his cock prodding you open—raw, without a condom.

“There you go. Lay there, and just—just give me what I fucking want,” Simon rasps as if you could actually move with his hands pinning you in place. 

There are many things you should feel: scared of his words, trapped by the rings digging into tender flesh, by his thighs forcefully pushing yours apart. The red flags look more like flashing lights at this point.

Instead, you feel wanted—your walls tighten around his cock, fluttering, pulling him deeper inside, letting him turn you inside out. A small smile buried into the pillow.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours

synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his

— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)

— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!

— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys

satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.

“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.

“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”

“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.

“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”

“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.

he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”

“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”

“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”

“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”

“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.

“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”

“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”

“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.

even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”

“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.

satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.

he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.

you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.

so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?

and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.

you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.

satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.

he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.

“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”

“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”

“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”

“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.

everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.

“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”

he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”

“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”

“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”

“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”

“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.

you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.

“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.

“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.

“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”

“got it,” you nod furiously.

“got what?”

“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”

“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”

“just what?” he raises a brow.

“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.

he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.

your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.

“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”

“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”

“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”

“say you love me,” he demands.

it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”

and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.

and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.

satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.

“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”

“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”

he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.

it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.

he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.

satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.

when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.

“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”

“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.

“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”

and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.

it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.

and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.

“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”

“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”

“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”

“how long do you plan on being mine?”

“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”

“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”

“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”

“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”

“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.

“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”

dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Big Fish in Gotham Pond

Based off of @saphushia art found here. . I just loved the idea of Tucker not knowing his skill level because he grew up in the boonies

Tucker gets scouted by Wayne Enterprises after he fixes a kid's computer game while in Gotham visiting Danny.

See, Tucker always known he is passable at tech- one has to be when a technology theme ghost is consistently harassing one's best friend- but to be good at something in a small town like Amity Park didn't mean much .

It's a big fish in a small pound sort of deal. That's why he's never put much thought into it. If Tucker were ever to rank himself in terms of school grades, he would say his computer skills were about a C-.

B+ if it was just coding.

His parents also don't think much of his obsession with his PDA or phones. They thought he waste too many hours on them like the rest of his generation.

It didn't matter that Tucker's technology was about five or more years behind his classmates.

The Foley were hard-working people who barely scraped enough for bills. They were never below the property line, but they danced on it often enough that Tucker knew never to ask for unnecessary purchases.

For as long as he could remember, his parents have always worked long and hard hours. He never blamed them for missing so much of his childhood, in fact he was grateful that they worked so hard to keep the roof over his head, but he did miss them.

That's why Danny's house became a haven for him. He was always at the Fenton's place because the loud, wacky family was much better company than the home silence.

Tucker knew that his family's financial situation didn't change how Danny or Sam viewed him. They had his back through tick and thin just as he did for them, but as they got closer to graduation the difference between them became jarring.

Sam had easy picking of what she wanted to do and where she wanted to go. Her parents were so overjoyed that she wanted to go to a university that they didn't even argue about her wishing to major in botanical biochemistry.

She had started house hunting in Star City midway through senior year. Her parents would gift it to her as a graduation present. Sam would live there for the next eight years to finish her degree.

Danny's parents, while somewhat eccentric, were also certified geniuses. Between the two of them, they had five PHDs and were often freelancing for companies when not doing ghost research. They too could send their two kids to college States away with housing not being a issue.

Jazz went to Metropolis to study Physiology. She lived in a small apartment but was doing well off her scholarships and parent's funding. Last he heard, she had a part-time job at the Daily Planet as a research assistant to gain some independence.

Danny wanted to go to Gotham for their engineering program. He, too, had an apartment of his own, with scholarships and equal funding from his parents. He also worked at Wayne Enterprises, but he was a receptionist. He hoped that once he graduated, he could apply for their engineering program

Not Tucker. His family could only help him get into Community College near Amity. He also couldn't afford to move out so he stayed with them, picking up a part time job to help out when he could.

Tucker is a first-generation college student so even though it wasn't much, he loved to see how his parents glowed when telling others their boy was futhering his education. He wanted to do something that paid well- and after years of patching up Danny- he figured nursing would do the trick.

Tucker would do all his basics in the community College, take a break to save up some money and then move on to the bigger schools.

The day of the graduation felt bittersweet. Team Phantom was finally adults, finally starting out in the real world, but while Danny and Sam moved on to bigger and better things, Tucker knew he would be left behind in little no-where Amity Park.

He never brought it up, but he felt a small dosage of envy the last day of summer before his friends finished packing and left.

Despite both being gone, Tucker had little to no social life even though they called, texted, and emailed often. His days blurred between class, work, and home. Even then, classes were long and tedious, work often ending with one or more customers screaming in his face to try and get free food.

His parents quickly started to nag that he should find a wife as they had married young. They couldn't figure out why he didn't want the same, even though he had no social life again.

Life became dull.

Tucker's only sparks of joy were playing online with Danny and Sam - when they found the time to log in or re-coding his old tech to try and salvage it whenever it broke down.

Soon, it became apparent that Tucker was slowly lacking motivation when he started skipping classes to sleep in and started feeling anxious when he needed to clock in for shifts.

It leads to him barely getting out of bed.

He felt horrible about it, thinking his parents sacrificed so much for him only to have him throw away the opportunities they gave him, and the cycle of not being able to get out of bed would start all over again.

It was Danny who caught on, and all but begged Tucker to come to Gotham for a weekend. He even sent money over for the plane ticket.

Tucker couldn't have gotten on that plane fast enough. He arrived early on Friday since the tickets were cheaper- and Uber over to WE headquarters to pick up Danny's keys as they agreed.

That way, Tucker could sleep and rest in the apartment while Danny worked.

Danny would finish his shift and have the weekend plus Monday and Tuesday off to spend with Tucker. When he arrived, Danny was helping a school check in for a field trip, so Tucker sat down to wait.

Next to him, a kid was growling at his laptop, frankly typing and moving his fingers over the computer's touch mouse. Tucker accidentally glimpsed his screen when the kid started swearing in a different language.

It looked like a shooting game but his lag was bad. By the time the boy pressed the buttons to have his little drone move the other flying things he was chasing were flipping though the air and out of his shooting rage.

It sucked when that happened, and since he was using WE free wifi for guests, it was probably the game. The graphics were badass, though. Seemed almost real.

"Hey try updating the system" He tells the kid after seeing the boy once again lag so bad he missed his shot.

Green eyes swing to him drenched in rage. Which yeah, Tucker knows how frustrating that could be.

"Did I ask for your help!?" The boy snaps, his words lined with an upper-class accent. Made sense since he was wearing a Gotham Academy uniform like the rest of the large school group. "Why are you even looking this way, peasant?"

"No, sorry. I just noticed the lag." Tucker raised his hand, slightly amused at the peasant insult. "I thought I could fix it for you."

The boy's face spams, "You believe you have the ability?"

"Ugh sure? I can try?"

"Here. Be quick. The fate of this city's air defenses depend on it" the boy turns his lap top to him and Tucker blinks.

Okay. So fix the game. He can do that.

And he does, quickly opening the code, analyzing the control and commands , he gets it running properly in less then twenty minutes. The boy seems utterly shock but he quickly takes control of the game and shoots down all the escaping ninjas from the sky.

"Thank you." The boy says with no more tense in his shoulders. Then he closes his laptop and dissappears with the crowd of students.

Tucker thought the kid was a cute.

Danny hands him the keys not long after and he leaves.

Never was he aware of the Boy being Damian Wayne and that the game was not a game but a actual defensive drone system that was fighting off the League of Assassins.

He only finds out how important those two facts are when Danny gets a call from Tim Drake asking if he could pass along Tucker's information because the CEO wanted him on staff as soon as possible..

Both nineteen-year-olds lost their minds after getting the call, screaming at each other in ghost shrieks of glee. They called Sam to let her know- and have her lawyers look over the contact Tim Drake sent just to make sure it wasn't a big-time company trying to screw him over.

He went to an interview three days later. He faced Tim Drake, the current seventeen-year-old CEO, Leo Noir, the current head of HR, and Jessica War, the current head of computer services. They asked him many questions about himself- some of which he felt he had answered terribly- then had him take a computer test.

Tucker thought it was busy work, so he quickly breezed through it. He fixed the problem in many of the coding for various programs, adding his flare to the final product, and after thanking them for their time, went out into the lobby.

He hadn't even reached the door before Jesssica ran after him, offering him the job. Apparently, the first two problems they had him do was the busy work. Tucker had thought they were the ones to let him get comfortable with the coding program.

Like a tutorial in video games.

The other seven were actual issues; many of their latest cellphone products failed. Tucker had solved them in an hour, which had taken the actual team of coders about a month.

"Nitey one dollar and thirty-five cents an hour," Tim tells him tapping the hiring contact. "It would be eighty hours every paycheck. You can work here or at home. Full Benefits. What do you say?"

Tucker's jaw drops. "When do I start!?"

He calls his parents to tell them he will be staying in Gotham with Danny. He tries to explain what had happened but it was all so fast that he can only babble about certain parts.

They tell him not to worry about explaining because they understand how much this means to him.

His parents help pack everything for him and when he flies back for it they, offer him hugs and support. Tucker is so glad they aren't mad.

"I sort of knew it was coming," His dad laughs. "You and that Fenton boy have always been inseparable."

"I did the same thing, you know," His mom says, wiping tears from her eyes but smiling all the same. "I moved with your father states away with little to no plan when I turned twenty too. Drove your grandfather mad."

He loves them both so much. He promises to send money- disregarding their denials- and flies back to Gotham, where Danny has opened his apartment until he gets enough for his own place.

He plans on renting a house with three bedrooms, one for him, one for his office, and another for Danny, as soon as he can. He wants to pay his friend back for everything he did and Danny deserves a bigger living space.

And for once, he'll not have to worry about money!

For once, life is looking up!

(What Tucker is unaware of, is that his parents think he moved to the big city to be with his childhood best friend turned recent lover. They don't know that the money he is sending home is from his own payroll and not Danny's. They think he's a stay-at-home husband.

Tucker is also unaware that the Bats are closely watching him in case he goes rogue. They have been slowly "causally" running into him in the city and breaking into his place to check for supervillain activity.)

[deadghosy]

HAZBIN HOTEL GANG WITH CHIBI! READER

PLATONIC HAZBIN HOTEL X READER

You are like thumb size-

Like you are an absolute cutie pootie! Even Alastor agrees, in private of course. You are like a mysterious creature that appeared in the hotel one day and said.

“This ma home now losers!”

Charlie was hypnotized by your cuteness, even vaggie oddly as she tickles you under your chin as you giggle with a squeak.

Husk lets you sit by the bar as you eat these small pieces of chips he got for you so you can have something to eat while he watches over you and cleans glasses.

Angel lets you in his chest fluff like a pocket as you snicker with a gremlin ass smile. You always bite him for the fun of it which makes him put you in air jail.

When Lucifer met you, you better believed he came and kidnapped you out the hotel every second he got.

LUCFIER

He fell in love with you the minute he had his eyes on you from charlie’s shoulder. He held you so carefully like a baby as he didn’t want you to be scared of him as you are so small and he is bigger than you.

Like I said, he definitely “kidnaps” you from the hotel so he can make you a small house. Like a doll house with small duck toys your size but he probably just makes a normal size duck car so you can drive around his palace or the hotel.

“Look at their tiny car sweetie!” He says showing Charlie a video of you driving your car with small black shades.

He definitely cries at your cuteness as he curls up in a ball as you eat peacefully in front of him as he made you your favorite meal.

He would have you in his pocket but he definitely makes small outfits for you so you can be a mini him. He would also definitely have a picture of you in his wallet.

“Oh this picture? It’s my sweet baby!” He says with a pride smile as he shows it off

CHARLIE

Just like her father she cries at your cuteness as you are just the sweetest thing ever she ever had around the hotel as you just chill in her room with razzle and dazzle.

You ride razzle and dazzle on their back as you wanted to see Charlie who is doing trust exercises. You join kinda as Charlie makes you sit on her shoulder as you wiggle your cute little bobble around.

Charlie makes sure you are groomed, feed, and socialize around the peers of the hotel. She’s glad VAGGIE likes you also which makes her even happier

Charlie kinda brings you around a lot as she doesn’t trust you alone much in the hotel as there’s a lot things that can kill you in the hotel.

“Sweetie, it’s time for bath time!” Charlie says she gets a toy bathtub with bubbles and water for you as you squeak happily.

And when you sleep with Charlie and vaggie, Charlie literally wakes up at night with red eyes concerned if you are alive or not because she is scared she might have rolled over on you.

VAGGIE

“Okay remember the rules, no leaving this room no matter what. Don’t go into the big scary man’s room. And last rule, don’t ever eat sweets. You are banned from last time.” Vaggie says before scratching you under your chin as she leaves the room. You pout with a soft squeak.

Vaggie is very overprotective of you because of your sweet and small creature frame as it’s unbelievably cute. She literally asked Lucifer once and carmilla to make you a small weapon so you can protect yourself if she can’t

You left the room one time because you were bored and missed vaggie with her girlfriend as you wanted company. You wanted to socialize as you didn’t think it was bad to talk to the other residents in the hotel. VAGGIE found out and grounded you as if you were a child!

She doesn’t want a heart attack late at night so she would consider to have you a tiny bed on the night stand beside Charlie and her bed. She doesn’t have time to worry about you getting squashed but she doesn’t want you to die as you brought happiness to the hotel.

“Good night cutie….”

ALASTOR

You use to shake at the grin Alastor had. Vaggie told you stories about Alastor as you squeak with tears in your eyes. And oddly Alastor turned away gripping his cold heart as he couldn’t stand you crying.

He turned around and picked you up softly in his hand as you sniffle. You noticed he wasn’t hurting you so you squeak rubbing your chubby cheek on your thumb.

“Please smile little one, you aren’t dressed without one!”

And at the point, Alastor know to protect you. He would bring you around with him when Charlie didn’t have time to watch you. Which he gladly did for her as he would bring you around pentagram city and even bring you to meet Rosie who absolutely adores you too.

He even has his demon minions play with you as you squeak chasing them with your stubby legs. The shadows love you too! Even Alastor shadows who would pick play with you as you squeak happily feeling the shadow by you.

“Play nice..don’t wanna get scolded by the mean one again.” He says smiling at you chasing his shadows in the living room. He is definitely talking about VAGGIE who is surely scared for you to be around Alastor.

ANGEL DUST

“OW DONT BITE MY FLUFF HON!” Angel yells digging in his chest fluff to take you out as you mistook it for cotton candy as you nom on his fluff with a derpy face. You got banned from his chest fluff for a month before you would behave yourself and not eat his chest fluff thinking it’s cotton candy.

Angel loves for you to wear pink like him as he thinks it would be cute. He would definitely act like a rich “auntie” to you as he would make you wear pink shades with him and he would ask Lucifer to make you a pink hot car.

But he definitely has those toy car remote controllers to make it seem you are actually driving but aren’t as you squeak feeling like a hot girl/boy/person

“VROOM VROOOM!” Angel says making car noises as you squeak happily at this moment as Charlie records this happily.

You sleep on Angel’s chest fluff or ride fat nuggets like a steady horses as you squeak while fat nuggets oink. Angel likes to record you acting like a cow boy as it’s just adorable moment

“You’re the best thing a spider could have cutie pie.”

HUSK

This grumpy cat actually is less grumpy with you. He views as you as a little kid. He might not know what you are it he ain’t serving you beer at all. Your body might not handle it at all.

“Sorry kid, but that’s for adults.” He says pushing your squishy and chubby body away from the beer bottle he held. You opted with a mean squeak and a “hey!” As he smirk at your mad face which is terrible cute with puffed out cheeks. But you just drink water what he gives you as he cleans glasses watching you softly as his eyes dilate before he grumbles looking away.

You and husk are seen chilling at the bar every night even if it’s after your suppose “bed time” which was annoying to you but Charlie sen how cranky you were before you even had a such called “bed time”

“Aren’t you suppose to be in bed brat?” “……no….” “I’m telling Charlie.” “NOOO!” *mad squeaks*

Husk has a habit of poking your chubby cheeks as you eat as it annoys you. Husk just smirks as you try to bite his finger which obviously fails as you are quite slow since you are eating. But if you aren’t eating, then husk better pray for his fingers as husk accidentally let his guard down and you bit the shit out of his pointer finger which make him scream with a groan holding his pointer finger as you huff.

“Fine kid…I’m sorry for annoying you. But you must admit you are annoying to me sometimes even if you don’t see it.” He says softly as he pokes your sleeping figure by his bar.

SIR PENTIOUS

“Ah I see! You like to spend time with me!” He says happily having you in his hands as the egg boiz watch you with star in their eyes at your small frame. You are adorable and such a weird little thing as the egg boiz made a rule to protect from a lot of things.

You nap with the egg boiz and the snake demon as Pentious would have you warm if you say you are cold. He also makes small cookies, well if he can even as he loves to bake for you.

Vaggie tells him how you are banned from sweeties but he secretly sneaks you some if you pout at him with your soft cute little squeak and “please.” HE CANT REIST IT!

He definitely brags about how he could’ve been an overlord but saw the light to redeem himself as he sees potential in you and himself. Well he does t even know if you are a sinner or not. But he want to know how to redeem with you beside him.

He would love watching movies with you as you are in the popcorn bucket but he always look to make sure you aren’t the next popcorn he grabs or he would throw up in disgust from himself and for you health

“You are so adorable it hurts me to see you cry…” he says patting your head as you pout with teary eyes after you accidentally hit it against a wall

[ashleyisartsy]

Problems (objective and personal) I'm not seeing discussed a lot w this new WatcherTV thing, in no particular order:

-Alienates people internationally who literally CANNOT GET the streaming service!

-Alienates casual fans who don't watch or want to watch all of their shows. Putting down 60 bucks a year to watch just one or two shows is kind of insane, at least for me.

-The volume of content Watcher has produced historically hasn't been enough to justify a separate streamer. I understand there's no way a small team could compete with something like Netflix, obviously, but that's what you're trying to do by putting yourself in the streamer market.

-Will this streamer be secure? What steps are in place to protect your viewers info? ESPECIALLY payment info.

-Will it be easily watchable on multiple devices? I watch YouTube videos on my phone at work 90% of the time, or at home on my TV thru my switch. Is this a browser only deal?

-What are the internet requirements for this? Believe it or not most streaming services won't run on my internet personally. I don't have any for that reason. I can watch YouTube on 360p, or on my 2-bar-reception phone data. Not everywhere has stable reliable internet.

-The suddenness and totality of the move was going to be jarring no matter what, if the idea had been introduced gradually or started as a hybrid model to test audience interest there wouldn't be nearly this amount of pushback.

-I understand the people saying "pay artists!!" Bc I am one, and I get that their quality is expensive and they have a whole company's worth of people to support. I do actually think their work is worth paying for! Everyone's is! But convincing anyone to pay for something they previously got for free is going to be a hard sell. They were still getting paid before, they're now just asking us to pay instead of the advertisers. Idk about you, but that's a way bigger hit to my pocketbook than a multimillion dollar company's bank account.

-I get that YouTube can be a really shitty place to be a creator sometimes, and that being beholden to advertisers is something they don't want to be. It's why they left Buzzfeed! They already have a patreon and merch and it's clearly not been enough for their ambitions. But shooting yourself in the foot because your running shoes are wearing out isn't going to make you a better marathon runner. They had to know that there was going to be a not small portion of their audience unwilling to make this move with them (and again, lots literally aren't able to!)

-If they had a free w/ ads option, or even did a hybrid model with whole shows behind the pay wall, or even just ran a fucking crowd funding campaign to help cover costs of new seasons of shows, any of those things could have worked. They don't even have YouTube memberships turned on, which I've personally seen many many channels do even when they already have a patreon. It really doesn't seem like they've exhausted other options, at least from an outside perspective, which is all we have as viewers!

-I get that this has been in the works for a long time, and that there probably isn't a way for them to back out now. But I hope they can find a way to make this more accessible if they want it to work at all. I truly am not wishing for their downfall, but the whole situation is an awful mess.

Idk, rant over. As a lot of you are I'm feeling very disappointed and upset with this one, and I'm not paying for it either. Hope the boys can salvage this one for their and their crew's sake. Would really hate for this to be the end.

[desi2go]

Lifting your bump

pairing: Felix x pregnant!reader

warnings: fluff

author's note: I'm half way done with the greek mythology fic! I'm hoping that I can finish it within the next week ;-)

Being pregnant was something that you wanted to be since you were young. You didn't know why but these little human beings just do something to you. Their big glossy eyes, the rosy cheeks and the bright smile always made you smitten.

And it was one of your biggest dreams to be pregnant one day. To experience motherhood on your own, watching the child you and your love created together growing up.

You knew that pregnancy wasn't easy. The morning sickness, back pain, swollen feet and so much more. But that didn't matter.

That's why you were thrilled when you discovered that you were pregnant from your boyfriend, Felix, of two years. It wasn't planned at all.

At first you couldn't even remember how on earth you could be pregnant. Since dating Felix and after a long conversation with him, you had decided that you would take the pill. You knew that it wasn't one hundred percent safe and Felix most of the time used a condom. But visiting him at the practice room turned out steamy and spicy.

And days after, you had noticed that you forgot to take the pill in the morning and you didn't use a condom.

Sure, you didn't think that you will be pregnant so early.

You wished Felix was there so that you could have told him right now.

But he was on tour and wouldn't come home for another month.

However, you didn't want to wait so long to tell him the news. You were dying to tell him. You called him the same evening, deciding to drop the news immediately. Luckily, you two already talked about having children and you both agreed that when the time was right you would try. Well, you weren't trying but it felt right to you and you knew that Lix would be over the moon.

And you were right. At first he was shocked, his mouth open in disbelief but after a few seconds, the biggest smile appeared on his face.

He jumped through his hotel room, squealed and hugged Seungmin tightly as he just wanted to check on him because of his screaming.

When he came home from tour, there was already a small bump. He cried when he saw you again and hugged you tightly, caressing over your stomach.

The months flew by and your bump grew bigger and bigger. It turned out that you weren't not carrying a baby but two. Felix told you that you glowed and you looked great pregnant. And you really loved it. Even though they decided that they wanted to be kick boxer and stomped against your rips.

Your breasts hurt, feet swollen and you couldn't even brush your teeth without the need to vomit. That was the side that you wouldn't miss.

And oh lord, your little beans weighed a ton. Back pains were terrible but you still insisted to cook for Felix so that he had a meal when he came home from the company.

You hummed along the soft melody of your favourite song, boiling some noodles. You groaned when one of the babies kicked, running your hand over your swollen belly.

The front door opens, signalling that your love was home from work. Immediately, he was behind you. Kissing your shoulder and hugged you from behind.

"Hello my love. Why are you cooking? The doctor said you should rest" he whispered into your ear, nibbling on the skin on your neck.

"I am resting. See? I'm not really moving around. So technically I'm resting" you answered and stirred the sauce.

His hands circled your waist just below your belly. He felt the kick.

"Little beans are really active today." You said.

"You promised me to be kind to your mother, sweet peas" he scolded lightly. He wrapped his arms tighter around you.

"What are you doing, love?"

He chuckled and kissed your neck. "Just relax"

Then, he lifted your bump slowly. Most of the weight was taken off of you and it was like you could finally take full breaths again. Exhausted, you sigh and slumped against him. Finally, your back pain began to vanish even it was just slightly.

He saw that on social media and Chan told him today that his wife absolutely loved it when she was pregnant.

"Oh my god, Lix. That feels great. Please stay like that" you groan and sunk further into him. He found it so adorable and he'll do everything for you whenever he can.

In that position he could even feel the babies kicking.

And he loved to see you comfortable, especially when he knew how painful this was for you and he'll definitely do it in the future more often till his little beans were born.

[heartlesscorpse]

Sleepy Cuddles w/ Pyramid Head 🩸🔪 △

Pyramid Head brainrot goes brrr. Pyramid Head brainrot is forever eternal, anyway — yeah I have yet another post of Pyramid Head because I’m bored, my brain had ideas, and I NEED him so I feel like catering myself once again w/ Pyramid Head. That’s all I can say. OH YEAH might I add, rather than Silent Hill’s PH like my last few posts this time I decided this time around I’m gonna do DBD Pyramid Head. Also a heads up for the small nsfw warning in this post.

Doing back to back trials or maybe more is always tiring. Leaves you all sleepy asf, grumpy, and really not wanting to be thrown into another trial for the entity’s amusement.

Usually you’d try sleeping around the campfire or take short naps, literally whenever you have the chance to do so before the entity drags you off to another random map, and it can get pretty annoying when you don’t get no breaks to rest. >:((

And what’s better than looking for none other than your favourite tall killer, the Executioner for some cuddles???

If you need cuddles or sleep, Pyramid Head’s always there in Midwich waiting for you whenever he’s not busy with any trials of his own. :))

He loves earning small visits from you while the both of you have some time to spend when the Entity isn’t calling for either of you for the next trial.

The two of you meet up usually in the halls of the school or some random classroom if Pyramid Head happened to be looking for you first. The nurses office is where the two of you kick back and relax in each other’s company most often, because that’s where all the old mattresses are left on the rusted metal bed frames.

The beds are way too small to fit with Pyramid Head’s large figure so the both of you would settle with stripping off all the mattresses from the bed frames, lie them all on the floor stacked atop each other by 2 by 4 for bigger space.

Cuddles w/ the big guy are the fucking best. And he enjoys cuddling you too.

Because of the huge height differences between the both of you, he thinks you’re the perfect size so he could gently squeeze you in his arms while you’re all curled up with him.

And don’t forget about them man tiddies, his tiddies are the best for a pillow but in the end, you’re waking up with a sore neck. But it’s fucking worth it. >:))

It’s also soothing listening to his breathing from his rusted helmet or the soft growls rumbling from his chest, which kind of reminds you of thunder rolling through the sky in the distance.

As I mentioned the last time in one of my other hc posts with Pyramid Head, he’s a fuckin’ walking heater and all that body heat radiating from him while you’re pressed against him with his arms around you is just pure bliss.

Feels so nice to pass out in his arms especially with all that exhaustion and the multiple trials you went through still racking your brain, and he likes it how easily you conk out the moment you get comfy with him just in a matter of seconds.

On some small occasions there’s times where Pyramid Head is also hornee and wanting help with finding some relief, once granted consent he’ll keep in mind how tired you are after all those trials you went through of course, this time around he’ll restrain himself from going too rough on you and will opt to fucking you gently and at a slower pace. Getting some relief out of this and also helping you destress, a small little reward for doing such a great job. <33

After cuddles and naps with Pyramid Head you’re feeling all rejuvenated and energized to keep pushing on through more trials the entity has yet to throw at you.

Sometimes it’s not enough and Pyramid Head will decide to keep you for a little while longer, drawing the entity’s attention in some instances and having to fight with them in order to prevent the entity from ripping you away from his grip.

Few minutes wasn’t enough he wants more time with his precious. Fuck off. >:((

Besides the exhaustion or stress from everything in the entity’s realm, you still visit Pyramid Head whenever just for more cuddles or naps to give the big guy some company and spend more time with your beloved Executioner.

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

[velvees-archive]

Some post-SOJ DLC case thoughts about Edgeworth, his opinion on marriage, and by extension, love.

…and how, at the very center of this discussion is one Phoenix Wright.

Contains spoilers from 3-5, 6-5 and 6-DLC

As if the subtext wasn’t enough.

I wanted to share some thoughts about the DLC case and Edgeworth's insistence on remaining unwed, which, from what I've seen, is a commonly employed gotcha moment against NaruMitsu (because all relationships must end in marriage, right? /lh). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really mind. I just…didn’t find the dialogue exchange very damning.

Coming off 6-5, where Edgeworth says this,

I saw the DLC as an extension of Edgeworth's sentimentality, this time directed at Phoenix’s romantic prospects.

To make my stance clear, I don’t think Edgeworth is blind to romantic overtures; he just doesn’t care about them very much. As in, Edgeworth is largely unaffected by and uninterested in matters of the heart (with a concession that he is obtuse when it comes to people expressing interest in him, unless they're Wendy Oldbag over the top about it). But even if you feel he's terrible at sensing romantic tension, my argument still stands. Edgeworth doesn’t care about romance, and we never really see him prying into anyone’s romantic relationships…

…with the exception to this being Phoenix Wright’s.

From Bridge to the Turnabout:

Sorry for the janky screenshots. I didn't didn't take 3-5 pics on my Switch so I had to search for YouTube clips. Let the record show I actually really enjoy Feenris PLUS I love angst, so this interaction was…chef’s kiss.

Assuming Edgeworth doesn't care about romance but he can understand romantic signaling, this is already pretty condemning. Why are you poking around Phoenix's business if you're so uninterested in love? Surely, there are bigger fish to fry, like investigating the Inner Temple Garden because the clues found could be vital to catching the victim's murderer?

Assuming Edgeworth sucks at detecting any romantic undertones, the implications are even worse. You're telling me the guy who doesn't know the first thing about romance somehow clocked Phoenix and Iris's chemistry this quickly? How? For what reason were you able to catch it? How attuned are you to Phoenix's personal affairs?

Now, shifting back to the DLC case, we have this lovely interaction when you show Miles the wedding chapel pamphlet:

Something to note with Phoenix’s “W-Wait. You’re not thinking about finally settling down and getting married, are you?” is that the screen flashes and we hear the damage sound after the “W-Wait."

Once again, Miles inquires about Phoenix's love life, this time after Phoenix asks about his. I've analyzed my fair share of Miles Edgeworth dialogue, and I don't think he pingpongs questions just to make conversation (see: “Say something, Wright. I’m not good at small talk.”). This leads me to believe he was genuinely curious and (subtly) trying to fish for information. And why would that be the case?

My overarching point is this: Edgeworth isn’t as obtuse about romance as everyone makes him out to be (both in-universe and from a fandom perspective), which makes his mentioning marriage plans around Phoenix even more suspicious. The way the scene reads to me is that Edgeworth, in Phoenix’s company and swept away by the intimate atmosphere, lets his interest in Phoenix Wright slip through the cracks once Phoenix shows him the pamphlet. It's sentimental of him and it surfaces—once again—while he's investigating a case. At risk of sounding repetitive, there are bigger fish to fry.

It'd be less suspicious if Phoenix had similar conversations with other cast members he shows the pamphlet to, but it never gets to be this personal, even when he presents it to Maya, his best friend.

Good news if you feel otherwise about my “Edgeworth isn’t that obtuse” headcanon though, because should you believe he is actually just that clueless, you now have to contend with this:

If Miles can’t pick up on all things love, why is he so attuned to Wright’s (and to my knowledge, only Wright’s) romantic prospects in particular?

So yeah. Checkmate, I guess. Edgeworth might not be interested in marriage or love, but he’s definitely interested in Phoenix’s partners, or lack thereof. Take that how you will.

[miiyas]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIYA !!

little birthday moments with him.

wc: 482, 401, post-ts, fluff, gn reader, may be ooc, slight proof read

ATSUMU MIYA loves his birthday. he’s very vocal about it, bragging to everyone about how he gets to have osamus homemade vanilla-yuzu cake and how he was going to get absolutely wasted with him today. and as much as he loves all the attention and gifts, he also loves you.

everywhere he goes, there always would be a reference to you. your favorite drink, the restaurant you so desperately want to go to, favorite shopping brand, the bundle of smiski blind boxes atsumu always finds himself buying for you— everything reminds him of you.

now, despite his actions towards you, atsumu isn’t one for cheesy sentimentals. he thinks he’d rather suffer through sakusas earful lecture of cleaning his room and which sanitizing products are best for his shared home with you then admit that he’s soft for sweet affection and care. so when you give him his small birthday present after his actual party, he’s a caught a little off guard.

“savin’ best fer last, huh ? what’didya get me ?” he hums, leaning against the bed frame. he watches you crawl back atop of his waist, big hands coming to rest on your hips as you hold the small wrapped gift. it’s dark in your shared bedroom with the only source of light being from a lamp by your bedside.

atsumu almost reluctantly slips his hands off your sides and gently takes ahold of the present. it was no bigger than his palms, maybe a bit smaller, and it lacked weight. with sleep on his mind, the blonde carefully peels off the wrapping with blunt nails, tired eyes widening as he sees a small golden locket drop onto his stomach.

“it’s a keychain.” you whisper to him, picking it up and handing it back in his bigger hands.

“i wanted to get you a necklace so we can match, but i figured because of volleyball, you wouldn’t be able to wear it around as much.”

as you explain, you could see your boyfriends eyes prick up with tears ever so slightly which only engulfed panic in your system. the blonde brushes it of, telling you that he ‘ain’t cryin’ !’ and thumbs the tears away, opening the locket with a hand with a soft click.

“.. there’s nothin’ inside..” he mumbles, a little disappointed to not see your pretty face already displayed. that’s when you tug out your matching necklace already looped around your neck, opening it up to show its similar emptiness.

“i wanted to print stuff out with you tomorrow. y’know, i have your face on mine and—”

“i have yers on … mine.” atsumu finishes the sentence for you, his words a little drifted off as his thumb grazes along the intricate lines on the metal.

atsumu knows for a fact that he fell first and harder, and he can’t help but feel it happen all over again.

OSAMU MIYA doesn’t wish for a lot of things on his birthday.

the only few things he wishes for are for the prices of onigiri ingredients to go down, find a bigger mattress for the two of you, and maybe get sponsored by a good kitchen utensil company and get some free goods. other than that, he likes to think that he’s content with the things already given in life.

he also wishes for people to stop teasing him for taking the second slice of his own cake.

there’s been a small birthday ritual the twins had been doing since they were younger— to give the first and second slice they cut to the people they care about the most.

first slice would always and forever belong to their ma, no matter what. that much would never change. second slice normally was given to one another, but osamu had soon gone irritated with the fact that his brother would always purposely make him take the best slice, only to hand it off later. so overtime, osamu had began to claim the better slice for himself, saving it and giving the third slice to his twin.

he doesn’t think he’s being greedy, just reasonable and fair.

but after starting to date you, he subconsciously sees himself handing you the first bite to all his meals, sharing a bento box when normally he would glare at those who want a bite, and letting you enter the kitchen whenever he’s at work in it which is a surprise in itself.

so when greedy-glutton osamu hands you the second slice to his cake, you’re a little taken aback.

“.. want me to hold onto it for you ?”

you sit right beside him by the table and osamu shakes his head, sliding the plate closer in front of you. there’s a soft look behind his pretty hooded eyes that makes your ears burn red, the atmosphere around you growing quiet until it was just your boyfriend voice you could hear.

“i wan’cha ta have it.”

you blink, eyes wide as you watch your boyfriend continue to slice through the cake with his twin before handing the slice to one another. your lashes flutter as you look down at the plate, you realize how generous of an amount you had received.

osamu likes to say ‘i love you,’ but he loves to show it more.

[thetriumphantpanda]

i'm not the only one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | You have your baby. You have your family. But can you really have everything you want? Can you really have your cake and eat it too?

Warnings | Fluff, mentions of breastfeeding, small children (in my world they need to come with a warning because ew), let's say it one more time for old times sake: TOMMY GETTING CUCKED BECAUSE HE LOVES IT, dirty talk, fingering (f) and allusions to other smut.

Word Count | 1.9k

Authors Note | Wow. I just wanted to take some time to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read and supported me through this little fic. What started as a filthy little one-shot has become something super special to me. I'm so proud with how this turned out and I really hope that you love this ending as much as I do. I need to say a massive thank you to the JFC - @cavillscurls @dinsdjrn @morning-star-joy @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers for continuously losing their mind over this fic with me and helping me come up with the ending where no-one gets their heart broken, I love you girls more than I can express 🧡 Thank you to each and every person who has read this, has given me their love, interacted with me and generally just made me the happiest girl for deciding to come back to fic writing. You're all awesome and I love each and every one of you. Please let me know what you thought of this, either by commenting, reblogging or sending me some love in my ask box, and if you'd like to support me with a donation, you can do so over on Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The late September sun is still warm, even as it begins dipping below the horizon, painting the sky a beautiful mix of pink and orange. The beer in your bottle is lukewarm, but you finish it off anyway, attention dropping to your son, sat on your knee, as you bounce it up and down to keep him occupied at the table. He’s just turned two and is a much better table companion at Joel’s birthday cook-out than he had been last year. He’s starting to show a little personality, babbling along when Sarah tried to talk to him, teasing Tommy when he hands his son a toy, throwing it to the ground because he already knows he’ll pick it right back up and play along. 

Everyone else has long gone by this point in the evening. This year’s celebration of Joel’s birthday being held at your house because he’s having his garden landscaped. It’s just the five of you, the people who matter most to you in life, sat around, finishing drinks and just enjoying each other’s company. Sarah yawns to your left, the day finally catching up with her. 

“You tired, bug?” Joel asks, smoothing a hand over her hair. 

“I’m not tired.” But she yawns again, chuckles erupting from the table. 

You poke at her arm, “Your room is ready whenever you are.” It had already been agreed that Sarah and Joel would stay here tonight, so he could have a drink and enjoy his birthday without worrying about driving home. 

To her credit, she lasts another hour sat at the table, but once Joshua starts fussing as well, it’s clear it’s time for everyone to call it a night. Joel kisses Sarah on the forehead, wishing her a goodnight as she heads inside. Tommy takes Joshua from your arms and presses a kiss to the top of your head, leaving you and Joel together for the first time that evening. You reach out your arm across the table, palm up to the darkening sky, Joel’s own, much larger hand, slipping into it. 

“Shall we go?” You ask, the smile across your face mirroring his own. 

“I think we should.” 

As you’re walking through the neighbourhood your mind drags back to this time last year and the conversation with Tommy as Joel’s birthday loomed on the horizon. 

“What do you think we should get him for his birthday?” Tommy asked, flipping through the catalogue of construction gear that comes through the letterbox every few months, “He was saying his toolbox is too small these days, maybe we can get him a bigger one?” 

Joshua is cradled against your chest, suckling as you feed him. You’d always wondered how the other women you knew could multitask before he’d been born. One of your best friends could breastfeed her child, cook dinner and talk to her older daughter all at the same time. Now, standing in the kitchen feeding your son, two pans on the stovetop as you cook, holding a conversation with Tommy, you realise it just came naturally. 

“I mean, we can,” You throw over your shoulder, “But I think that man deserves more than a toolbox for his birthday.” 

Once Joshua has finished feeding, you hand him to Tommy, along with placing a rag over his shoulder – you fed him, Tommy gets to burp him, that’s the deal. 

“I just feel bad,” You comment, going back to pushing the steak around the pan, “Do you not feel like you’ve kinda just abandoned him a little?” 

“What do you mean?” Tommy asks, patting his son on the back. 

You sigh, trying to focus on cooking as you speak, “I just mean that he did this for us, gave us this life we have now, and what are we going to do to thank him? Give him a toolbox? Just seems like we don’t care.” 

“Well, what would you suggest?” He asks, you're quiet in response, trying to think of how best to put this, "You miss him, don't you?" He finally asks.

You turn around, leaning against the counter to the side of the stove, “I do miss him,” You say simply, not afraid to admit it, “You said before Joshua was born that you understood the connection we have, I just want to give him something good.” 

Tommy has Joshua cradled in his arms now, trying to get him to go to sleep so he can lie him down and enjoy dinner with you in peace, "You wanna fuck him for his birthday?" There's a smirk on his lips, just like there was when you'd needed Joel before Joshua was born.

“Hey, language!” You chastise, pointing to his son in his arms, “Don’t say it like that either, you know you come first, you always have, I love you Tommy, but can’t we just give him one time, once a year, where I can really show him how grateful I am for what he gave us?” 

You can see him mull it over in his mind as he bounces his son in his arms before he relents, “Okay,” He’s smiling, and it reaches his eyes, so you know he really means it, “If that’s what you want, I’m happy.” 

You smile, walking over to kiss him, “I don’t deserve you,” You murmur against his lips, “I love you so very much, Tommy Miller.” 

Joel thinks, as he walks hand in hand with you back to his home, that he really didn’t need this. He didn’t need thanking for what he’d done. He remembers walking into your hospital room with Sarah after Joshua had been born – she’d insisted on picking the biggest and brightest bouquet of flowers for you and had been so excited to finally meet her nephew. He’d pushed open the door for her that day and had been overcome with a strange sense of satisfaction. 

You were propped up in bed, Joshua cradled in your arms, his tiny hand clutched around one of your fingers, Tommy stood, hand brushing your hair as he looked down at the both of you with pure adoration. He knew he’d given you everything in that moment, that he’d managed to make the two of you the happiest people ever, and that was enough. A fleeting moment in time between you and him, that had created the most beautiful baby boy he’d ever laid eyes on, he’d been happy to let it lie, to wait and see if you wanted more and came back to him down the line. 

He hadn’t expected that on his birthday last year, you’d have cornered him and kissed him with such passion that he wasn’t sure he’d survive once he pulled away from you. Then you explained, one night a year, he could choose when, where you could show him how thankful you were to him. A night just to yourselves, without Tommy’s eyes trailing over you both. Secret and sacred between the two of you. 

Once Joel has unlocked his front door and brought you inside, he wastes no time. He craves this, has spent the last year thinking of the moment he gets to fuse his lips with yours. It’s soft, as his mouth opens against yours, slow as your tongues meet, he doesn’t have to rush with you anymore, he gets you to himself for the whole night. He pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Hey.” You smile softly. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” He’s smiling, palms resting at your hips, “You want me to take you upstairs? 

You bite at your bottom lip and breathe out, “Yes.” 

He leads you up the stairs, your hand clutched in his own, through the threshold of his bedroom. He settles himself on top of his sheets, head propped up on his pillows as he motions you to join him. You clamber onto the bed, crawling up his body on your hands and knees until you’re straddling his hips with your mouth back on his. 

As you grind your hips down onto him, his hands coming to cup your ass under your dress, you can feel him growing hard for you. All you want is to strip him down and put your mouth on him, but it seems he has other ideas, and since this is all for him, you let him take the lead. He slips his hands under the waistband of your panties, warm hands on your flesh as he pulls them down as far as they’ll go in this position. 

“Lie down for me, babygirl.” He whispers against your lips, you oblige, settling yourself down on your back as he pulls your underwear off fully, shucking the hem of your dress up to your hips. 

He’s got one of his arms under your head, his lips at your ear as you spread your legs for him, letting his fingers slip through your folds to gather the slick that has slowly been gathering there all evening as you both watched each other, knowing what was coming. 

“So wet for me, pretty girl,” He breathes into your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth to nibble as he slips two of his fingers into your tight pussy, “Been thinking about me?” 

He drags those fingers from your core, up to your clit where he begins to play soft circles across it, it’s so gentle that your breath catches in your throat as you arch yourself into his hand, “Couldn’t stop,” You admit, turning your face to kiss his lips, “Thought about you all day.” 

He dips his fingers back into your cunt as he kisses you, you can feel him smirk against your lips when you grind down to meet his fingers, “I’ve been thinking about you all year, hot mama, couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.” 

He brings his slick fingers back up to your swollen bundle of nerves, showering it with attention as you whimper for him, arching your back and bucking your hips, fingers gripping at his arm as he works you to the crest. You come for him, moaning into his mouth as he kisses you, his fingers making sure they work you for every ounce of your orgasm. 

Joel has you more times than he can count that night. He brings you over the edge over and over again until you can do nothing but sob, beg for a reprieve but beg him not to stop. You let him put you in positions you didn’t know possible, his cock thick and heavy inside you, brushing that spot within you that makes you sing and scream for him. He fills you up with his cum, protected by the pill you take each morning, and then, when the sun is rising and the beginnings of the day break through his drawn curtains, you lie on his chest, fingers drawing patterns on his skin, slick with sweat. You’re both sore, both spent, and both happy, most importantly. You know that within the hour you’ll have to start the walk back to your own home and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Sarah will think her dad slept on your couch and you were in your rightful place, in bed next to Tommy, and that's how it will continue to be for another year, happy with the man you love, but safe in the knowledge that you still have this slice of heaven each year. The play will continue for another year – the doting uncle and niece, the happy family with their growing son, and you’ll be happy, because this is all you’ve ever needed. 

“I love you.” Joel whispers, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead as he brushes the sweat slicked hair from your face, his eyes mapping every inch of you, claiming this scene as his own, committing it to memory so he has one thing he can think of, in the depths of his nights, when he feels the loneliest. To remind him that he’s not lonely at all, because even if he can only have you once a year, at least he can have you. He’s a simple man and he’s happy to take this one moment with you, until you decide you want more from him, if that’s ever the case. 

“I love you too Joel.” 

[zannolin]

lucy talks to rabadash before aslan judges him.

she never knew him well—she's never been very interested in any of her sister's suitors, not unless she's certain she'll need to step in, and he seemed reasonable enough, if smug and rather small in personality when he visited cair paravel. she didn't understand why susan wanted to go to calormen, but she'd never stop her sister from something that might make her happy, and edmund was going with her, so it's not like anything could go wrong. and anyway, someone needed to stay at cair paravel while peter went to the north. lucy would rather have gone with peter, but she'd also rather susan not be alone in the south. susan's alone all too often while the rest of them venture out across narnia. it's only fair she gets to spread her own wings a little.

they never thought anything could go wrong, no matter what the reputation of the tisroc. but then suddenly the splendour hyaline is spotted at the mouth of the harbor, and the raven is bringing her news both joyous and grievous in turn of her siblings' northern flight, and now there's a stag come to tell her that rabadash and a company two hundred strong have come to lay siege to anvard. lucy has an idea what he's crawled out of calormen for, and it's nothing to do with archenland. judging by the sick look on her sister's pale face, susan can guess well enough herself.

it's that look that has lucy mounting up beside edmund and riding out to anvard at double time. there is very little she wouldn't do for her family, and the lion help anyone who is the cause of her sister's distress. in the end, it's probably better it was edmund who fought rabadash in battle, because lucy's not so sure she'd have spared him.

the morning before he is to be judged, she escorts herself to the chambers where he is confined, a knife in each hand, and locks the door behind her. he is unbound, but the look in her eye keeps him seated in the chair where she finds him.

"i should like you to know," she tells him, not bothering with proper greetings—he does not deserve them, after all—as she leans against the arm of the chair opposite his, "that your cowardly plan would never have succeeded, even without the warning."

rabadash sneers at her, and not for the first time, lucy wonders how he ever conducted himself to be anything more than the ass that he is.

"narnia's high king is a fool and a craven," he scoffs. "he never would have attacked the great land of calormen and my father, the tisroc, may he live forever, over something so trifling as a mere sister."

this is not his first mistake, but he is lucky that it isn't his last. lucy's face goes very still and very stern, and rabadash glimpses for one terrifying moment why the narnians all call her valiant. why she is named for the sea, the harsh and changeable mistress, and the flowers that grow back first after wildfires.

"i wasn't actually talking about peter," she says, her voice chillingly light, all pretense and formality dropped, "though if you think he wouldn't have marched on tashbaan to save our sister, you're a much bigger fool than i thought."

her tone makes it perfectly clear just how much of him she thought, and it certainly wasn't very highly at all.

she strides forward to stand before him, which would be a very foolish thing to do in a company of an unbound and dangerous prisoner if that prisoner were braver than rabadash and lucy were anyone else, and leans down to meet his eye. she's not very tall, queen lucy, and yet to him she seems like a giant—terrible and beautiful in an entirely different way than her sister. she's so close he can see a long white scar on her neck, can smell horse and leather and chainmail and clean sweat, can see how her hair is bound back for convenience and not beauty, and her hands are rough and capable.

he is aware, suddenly, that he is afraid. that perhaps he has been since she entered the room.

"know this, son of tashbaan," says queen lucy the valiant, and the smile on her lips does not at all match her eyes. "if you had laid even the tip of one finger on my sister, the queen, i would have skinned you alive."

she leans back just enough for him to breathe, and he gasps with it.

"and do you know what?" she asks cheerfully.

he doesn't want to know. she tells him anyway.

"i really don't think peter would have stopped me."

[alwaysshallow]

gorgerous, part 8

Simon Riley x f!reader

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READ ON AO3

You're a vet with a pretty simple life. One day though, things change, when a big guy with a skull mask enters your clinic with a small, ginger kitten in his hands. (4,5k)

A/N: ....guess who's back??

Christmas is usually celebrated with someone you love. Someone you respect, someone that will cherish the moments with you because there’s not only a lot of things to prepare in a sense of duty, the feeling that you have to do this. There's a lot of things that you can genuinely enjoy.

Gifts. You love to think of something special for every person that is close to you, just for the pure satisfaction of seeing a smile on their face and a "How did you know?" question that makes you giddy every time you hear it. 

What’s more, everyone gets something personalized, something that is from you, carefully picked amongst the hundreds of choices. You'd hate to give a present that looks like it had been picked at the last minute at a gas station; so, you spend a lot of the time buying and wrapping your gifts to some corny playlist that you made when you were eighteen, and you play it every year. Just for the vibe. 

Meal, where you think of everyone. Their favorites, dislikes, something sweet for later, when the meal will be just too boring and the craving for chocolate would hit. 

It’s good to note that most of the dishes aren't cooked by you (you don’t have time and skills to do so much), it's catering, but, it's the thought that matters, you think.

And it's like that… normally. 

This year, you feel like all the holiday spirit is dead. Your mom and dad already planned the vacation—without you, which upsets you, but you don’t allow yourself to show that—and your friends go to their families. You’re gonna be alone in the most wonderful time of the year, so for some reason, you start to understand the Grinch. 

You received an invitation from your friends, but you politely declined it. Feeling it would be either awkward, or you'd feel alienated in a family that you don't really know well. Besides, pity isn’t really your thing, so you prefer to watch Bridget Jones with cookies and milk, instead of being a burden.

Or, you preferred to watch Bridget Jones, before someone showed up in your life and made a little mess.

Before Simon came into view.

Maybe it's his aura, or maybe it's your high expectations and mindless dreaming, but you think it would be right to ask him. Even if he has plans—you think that a man like him doesn’t have plans—it's something that you want to do.

Just out of pure curiosity. Because based on the dinner you had with him, evening that you spent together, you think he'd be a good company. In your mind, you already see the banter between you and him. You already see how he argues with you that you shouldn't really put on a Grinch movie, or any Christmas movie because it’s tacky to think of a Hallmark movie and a meal together. You see how he rolls his eyes, when you hit “play” despite his protests.

How he tries to seem uninterested, but he’s more invested into the movie than you are, commenting out loud stupid choices of the heroes, sighing audibly, as you laugh in the background. How he absolutely devours cookies that you made, so you need to bake another batch of them because he's eating so much—rightfully so, for such a monstrous man in the military. He probably relies on his weight to stay in form. 

It's hard not to drool, when you imagine it. His body under all of the clothing, his muscles, body fat. How he looks, how comedically bigger he is, compared to you. Fuck, you’d give a lot to see him without all of those clothes. Compression shirt leaves too much to your imagination to be satisfied with that only.

It’s even harder to maintain a calm face, when he asks you about something from the bathroom, and you jump in place, like you were just caught on something illegal or watching porn. You can’t even recall what he was saying, so with a frown you ask him to repeat the question.

If he’s not dense, he should know by now that you like him. Very much. Maybe too much, considering how far your imagination goes, and it only took… a few months, to fall into this mindset with a man that is rather known for being quiet. A man that did a horrible first impression in that weird mask, yet you’re still interested.

Your polar opposite. 

While you love to talk, he rather avoids it. You love crowds (moderately), he does not. He probably prefers to sit alone in the cafe, reading away from the crowd, while you almost every time find someone to talk to, either if it’s a client or a barista that is glad someone doesn’t complain about the coffee. You talk, he’s more of a listener. 

Fire and water; ice, even. Something that is on the opposite sides, something that shouldn’t work in the first place, but for some reason, it works perfectly well—for you, at least. You’re more addicted with the passing hours of your weird friendship with Simon, more curious to know him. Trying to adjust to the slow pace that he set in.

The slow dance around the topic is the thing you know Simon likes the most. It’s maybe the only thing that you’re sure he loves to do. Taking his time to observe, pounce and eventually attack, if he feels up to it.

It’d be easier that he’d ask you to spend Christmas with him, but you can’t have it all easy, no?

You bite your cheek and observe how he plays with Sparkles. The cat is invested in catching his fingers with her paws, gnawing on them, when he tries to take them away from her to take a sip of his tea. With a view like that, it’s easy to melt into a puddle and forget about everything that bothers you. It’s also very easy to have a prospect of you three spending holidays in your apartment. Wouldn’t be far from what you have now—big “bad” military man spending time with a tiny kitten, while you try to think of a proper breakfast. 

It would be the best reward to have him around, when it’s your favorite time of the year. 

But, it’s up to him, if he agrees.

And, for many reasons, unbeknownst to you, you want him to agree.

“You have somethin’ in mind,” he breaks the silence. Deep brown eyes are already scanning you from the bottom to the top of your head, curiously. Challenging himself if he’s capable of knowing what bothers you, before you’ll say it to him.

You’re not gonna make it easy for him, that’s for sure.

“I don’t,” you huff, like it’s supposed to convince him. “It’s just… I don’t know what to make for breakfast. That’s really it.” 

Simon’s quick to accuse you. “Don’t lie.”

“I don’t lie?” You raise your eyebrow, like he just didn’t tell you the truth; he scoffs at your high-pitched tone, taking a few steps towards you.

“You bite your cheek, and stomp like a bunny. What is it if not lyin’?” He mimics you, raising an eyebrow too. If it would be anyone else, you’d be slightly offended.

Rather than that, you’re amused a bit. “Like a bunny?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. From Bambi, or whatever that was.”

It takes everything in you to not laugh right this second. “You watched Bambi?”

“With Soap,” he murmurs, almost in shame because of the confession. “Doesn’t matter, what do you have in your little head?”

One confession leads to another, you think. It seems inevitable to say this right now, as finding a lie would be the worst option ever in front of a human lie detector. 

Besides, there’s no point in lying when you want him on Christmas. 

“I thought that, you know, you could spend Christmas with me. Sparkles would be included, too,” you say, out of breath when you’re done. 

In theory, this, telling him what you have in mind, should help you to get rid of that feeling in your chest. Feeling that makes you go back to being a kid, when you felt there’s nothing you can do about certain situations. When you could just wait for the mercy of the other person.

And that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re waiting till Simon says something; a few minutes ago, you felt like it’s just a formality. 

Right now, you feel that the ache got worse just by seconds. His blank stare doesn’t help you with anything, it just makes you wonder what is in his mind right now. Is he just so shocked that he doesn’t know what to say? Or is he trying to find the words to politely decline the invitation?

“So, you want to celebrate with me,” he speaks up. You don’t know if there’s been five minutes, ten minutes, or an hour since you’ve asked him, but nonetheless, it makes you mad how he asks another question, instead of answering yours.

Although, you don’t show it; you just chuckle, nervously. “Is that really weird?”

“Kind of? Masochist type of way, if I’m being honest,” he hums, tilting his head. You have this specific feeling behind your head that he’s not taking you seriously, but you try to push it away. You don’t need it, not now.

“Well, masochist or not,” you swallow the saliva, thinking it would give you courage to continue the conversation, “I really mean it. I’d love to have you here.”

He sighs, shaking his head, and you know you’re screwed. “We’re not quite here, bird. Nothin’ personal, but that’s probably the dumbest idea out here.”

“Dumbest… idea?” You raise your eyebrow, laughing at first, but then you look at him in disbelief. “Like, spending time together on Christmas is dumb?”

It looks like he doesn’t even want to hear what you are saying. Riley puts Sparkles to the transporter, getting ready to go, while you still want the answer. “So? That’s… it?”

“I don’t want to spend Christmas with you.” He shrugs, looking at you. “Simple as that, I don’t know what is so hard to understand.”

And then, he leaves. 

Not only without breakfast, but without a word that would help you understand why he reacted like that. 

As you can imagine, the following days are kind of rough. 

Simon isn't a texter or a caller, doesn't have a reason for it anyway, so you're anxious all the time at work. You make more hours than you should just to stay in work and keep your mind occupied with something other than him because it still feels like he was at your place minutes ago, not days. 

It doesn’t help. The unnerving wave of shame is overwhelming, so you can’t even enjoy your work the way you normally would. Because normally, work helps you with your inner peace, feeling like a hot shower after a long day. Relaxing your muscles, bringing your mind elsewhere.

Right now, work is just pouring more problems to the already full cup.

Maybe it’s a mistake, but you don’t really share it with anyone; what happened with the British guy. Too ashamed that you even thought it would be a great idea to invite Simon, you bottle the feelings instead of letting them out on a random girls night, when you’d be too drunk to remember what you’ve said. You don’t mention it to your best friend, in case she’d spill it to Soap, you don’t mention it to your parents, in a fear of being judged. Or, Simon being judged in that case, they don’t know him. 

You feel like you don’t know him either, but he has to have a reason to not to come, right? It’s not like he decided that just out of spite, right?

Not only you feel bad, but the whole thing feels pathetic. Everything reminds you of him. A damn jar of peanut butter in your apartment (that you hide deep, as you don’t want to even look at that), cat toys at your workplace, LEGO, just because he said that it seems like the stupidest, yet the most interesting “puzzle thing” ever. If this isn’t enough, you catch yourself thinking of him at the gym, when you feel too fatigued to continue the training. Wondering if he’d push you to do the last set, what’d he say. Him, helping you with the exercises, seems like something inevitable. Something that could happen.

You need a cold shower after that.

These days, people tend to get on your nerves too. Your calm clients become someone that you don’t want to see, not even mentioning talking to them for more than it’s necessary. Happy couple in the shop irritates you enough to skip the aisle that they are in because if you don’t get to be happy, you don’t want to see other people happy like that. Not when you thought you’re gonna spend the holiday with someone special to you.

God. If one of your best friends would behave that way, you’d convince them they deserve better because no boy should make you feel like crap. 

Now… yeah. 

Now you should be the best friend to yourself, but it’s not going well for you. It’s way easier to try to lose yourself at work, watch rom-coms and eat ice cream, rather than face the truth.

You eventually come to the conclusion that spending Christmas would be a scratch on his emo reputation, so it’s better for you to ignore him completely from this point. If he hates this day so much, he could tell you in a different way than humiliating not only you, but your feelings.

It’s the night before Christmas when you see him, as you come back from the shop with your groceries.

He looks... fine, as always. Unbothered, as always.

Walking like the whole world belongs to him, loudly and clearly intimidating everyone who would even think of crossing his path. It's something that you, right now, envy him for. How heartless he seems, which definitely helps him not only with the job he’s doing, but for the moment like this one. 

Where people, normally, feel ashamed. 

The big guy facade fades just for a single moment—and you hopelessly think it's the moment he sees you, the last droplets of human decency speaking to him. He stops, looking at you from head to your toes and back. Estimating if you’re worth a while.

And when he decides that you’re in his circle of interest, he walks up even closer to you. Not a single emotion on his scarred face, and if you wouldn't know him, you'd be scared that he wants something malicious.

Maybe he does.

"Hi." 

His voice feels like he’s under the water. Deep, unreachable, but for some reason, it reaches you. Simon’s presence floods your lungs, making it hard to breathe, or to do anything at this point. You have to take a shallow breath before you’ll do anything.

You can't quite reach out to yourself to bring anything other than "Fuck you", so you don't speak after the "Hi." A nod in acknowledgement of his existence is all you give him; because if you would try to speak, you'd be either aggressive or hysterical.

And it's the last thing you want to give him: emotions. Because he seems to love that you're the emotional one here; he can read people like a book, and you're tired of being one. Tired of being on his shelf, so he can grab you whatever he wants, and you have no control over it. It simply doesn't feel right to you, doesn't seem fair at any chance.

His tone snaps you back to reality. "Dove."

You sigh. "I have a meal to prepare. Can't really talk right now, Riley.”

"Ouch." He theatrically puts a hand on his heart, tilting his head to the side. You can't really say if he's surprised by your sudden change in behavior towards him, or amused. Maybe both, knowing him. 

So, you do what you do best: you just start walking to your place, completely ignoring his presence. Pretend like you don’t care about this stupid Christmas, like you forgot what he said to you on that disastrous morning.

He grabs your arm, forcefully. You’re not even sure when that happens, when he jerks you towards him and you can see how he purses his lips in a thin line, looking at you with something resembling remorse, at best. Or something quite close to it, it’s hard to name it.

"'m not gonna let go."

"And I'll start screaming. You know I will. Like, actually, who would believe you that you just wanted to talk to me? You’re big, mean and generally speaking many people would—"

"If the invitation is still on the table, I'd take it, if we're bein' honest."

Like a fish, you open your mouth and close it a couple of times, dumbfounded. You can’t really tell if he means what he said, or if he actually said what you’ve heard; because there’s a possibility you just misheard something. You raise your eyebrow. "What?"

"Your hearing abilities amaze me."

"You told me a few days ago—"

"Changed my mind." He shrugs. So casually, like he didn’t actually make you freaking out about him, thinking you’re imagining things between you two because he rejected your invitation. 

You repeat his words mindlessly, barely believing in them. “What changed, then? The big “I don’t spend Christmas” guy thought he’s gonna do it this year? Or something changed between us and it’s not that casual anymore? Or it’s not the dumbest idea?”

He grits his teeth. It’s not rocket science to see that he’d rather you just take his apology, but you’re not like that. At least, not after feeling so humiliated for a couple of days, thinking that you’re the stupidest woman on the entire planet. For what it’s worth, you need to make him regret his decision a little.

You want him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stands right in front of you, the royal brown staring into your soul. It’s not like you will budge, and Simon seems to know it, when he rolls his eyes. 

Fire and water. Maybe something that is not meant to be, and you started to slowly accept it after those days without contact. Sometimes people have different views on life, relationships and that’s okay. It’s not like you can change how he feels about you, but right now—

—right now, he closes his arms around you. Before you know it, he places his chin on the top of your head. Trying to isolate you from everything but him.

You try several times to leave his embrace, to punch him hard enough, but he doesn’t let go, and by that alone, you understand that somehow, you needed it. You just shoved it under the rug because it was easier.

Needed him, in general. Needed the reassurance that he probably doesn’t hate you so much. Your anger seems at lower levels right now, tamed, understanding towards him. It’s a stark contrast between you now, and a few days ago, when you wanted his head to be chopped off.

“I thought you passed on the party,” comes out quieter than expected. Like you’re actually afraid to say that, and he seems to know it when he tightens his arms around you for a moment. 

“‘s not a party though, is it? Only us three,” he murmurs, shrugging. You could think he doesn’t care coming from the tone, but the look in his eyes, the small glint in them, says otherwise. 

You scoff, pretending to be offended. Truth is, you’re far from offended right now. “Two is already a party.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Not a really reliable source, dove. But s’alright,” he says, tilting his head. He looks down at you and then kisses the top of your head. Not even bothered that a few minutes ago you wanted to punch him. “Let’s go already, hm? Probably you’d want to make some shit or else.”

“Or else,” you say. You have a lot to do, that’s true, but right now your focus is elsewhere—and that’s on his heart. You can hear how hard it is beating, the only indicator (besides the eyes) that he really wants to be here with you.

And If you doubted he has heart, now you really can see that, indeed, he has. Beating for no one else but you.

“You… can’t do that,” you say, without even looking at him. Your eyes are focused on the lantern nearby, the yellow light brightening the surroundings. “You can’t just say shit like that and expect I’ll be okay.”

“Listen—”

“—No. No, you should listen. I don’t want you to feel that you can say anything to me, to just come back without the consequences. Just promise me. It’s not hard, it’s not complicated, you know? Communication is actually easy, if you just try hard enough.”

For a few seconds, he’s quiet. Just like he was quiet on that accurst day, when everything got fucked up. You’re quick to open your mouth, but then, he answers, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You lost your hearing or somethin’?” He tilts his head a little to the right. If Sparkles wouldn’t be in a transporter in his hand, you’d smack the shit out of him. “Maybe you do need a doctor’s visit.”

“I said so much and you—”

“There’s nothin’ for me to say. I know, and I acknowledged it,” he says, abruptly, his gaze hardening. “I fucked up. Not denying that, but right now, I want to make it right. That clear?”

That is clear, and as he’s seemingly a man of his words, you go to your apartment without any other word about the past. 

You learn that he’s more of an observer than a doer. He waits for your sign, for whatever that gives him a clear message about what he should and shouldn’t do. The effect of the military gets to him even in mundane tasks like hanging the lights or tossing around a few decorations there and there. Simon doesn’t speak until he finishes, and then he just stares at you, until you’re gonna give him the next instructions. 

You can’t help but laugh, when you do. He seems so lost when you do that, irritated at first, but he probably gets the message.

"I don't... do, this," he says, when he's busy rolling the dough with his rough hands. For a man like him, he's very tender with how he does it. Caring that you've told him how to do it, not using all of his power.

“Do what?” You look at him, tilting your head to the side. You know exactly what he means, but for what he put you through, he deserves to have a little struggle, to be more vocal about what he feels. He seems to know it, assuming that he pushes the dough to the surface a little harder.

“This stuff,” he explains. His way of explanation is a little different than yours, but you’ll take what he gives you.

“Baking?” 

“That too,” he mutters. “It’s weird to do this.”

“But, are you having fun?”

He nods, and you take it as a final answer. As you smile under your nose, you move on to the next step. You think you’re going to make everything on time, with help like him.

“My parents died on Christmas day.” 

Or not.

You drop your eggs a second later; it’s the first, genuine reaction at his sudden words. His quick reflex is the only thing that saves them from going to waste. “Christ, dove, just watch it.”

“Simon, I—”

“—Well, everyone died. Tommy, his wife, kids.” He shrugs, continuing the monologue. You don’t know if it’s a coping mechanism, trying to make it seem like it’s the most normal thing in the whole world, but in some way, it is concerning. “That… well. I just don’t do anythin’ on this day. Or before, really. I pretend it’s nothing special, so I don’t summon whatever that shit was years ago.”

To say that you’re shocked would be an understatement. You have to fight your tears right now, to completely not fall apart right in front of him. “How young were you?”

“Twenty two, I think.”

You put your hand on his—trying to console him, give him some support, even if he doesn’t look like he needs one. “I can’t tell you—”

“—No shit like this.” He looks up, crossing his gaze with yours. Despite his words, you see something in them. Something that quietly says thank you. “I’m a magnet for bad things, and for what it’s worth,” he looks at you, “I didn’t want to get you involved, if something would happen. Everyone around me dies, if I let them get too close.”

“You do know that it’s bullshit, right?” You look up at him; the choice of words isn’t exactly the best, but he seems to know that you mean, when his eyes cross with yours. “I’m so close, and I’m not going anywhere, Simon.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. See?” You put one of his hands on your waist, the second on your face. He doesn’t move them.

Simon’s eyes darken, second by second. They’re not a dark chocolate anymore, they resemble more of a dark ocean at midnight. It’s hard to find anything light in them. “I see, but you don’t seem to understand what I mean.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Then, explain it to me.”

“It’s a one way ticket. No backin’ out after this—”

“—I don’t want to back out, so.” You mimic his careless shrugging from earlier. It’s hard to ignore how he rolls his eyes at your act. “What?”

“You’re a brat. Should listen to the elders when they talk, not interrupt them.” He mutters, taking your chin so you could look at him better. “Maybe I could teach you some manners.”

You gulp. “Maybe you could.”

Maybe this interaction is something that needed to be said or done. Maybe Simon needed to reject you at first, and then come to you, so he would tell you part of his story, no filter. Maybe. 

You do not care about that, not right now.

“Stay… still,” he sighs right to your ear, his big hand going under your t-shirt. 

If you’d tell yourself that Simon Riley is going to be one of the most important people for you, the past you probably wouldn’t believe any of that. The first impression wasn’t the best, you were interested in him only because of the mystical aura surrounding him.

Yet, when one of his hands is under your t-shirt, the other on your throat, you couldn’t ask for a better place to be.

[nekovmancer]

erm erm hi is it alr if you do Cole Cassidy x socially awkward reader who has a hard time standing up for themselves, had a bit of a weird day and yadda yadda

pls and thank uu ( ´∀｀)

Cole Cassidy with a socially awkward reader

warnings: very light mentions of low self esteem, reader struggling with their issues etc etc but nothing that may be triggering

a/n: hello, anon! I am so sorry to hear you had a bad day. ): I hope things are better now! So- being someone who is socially awkward and just recently got an autism diagnosis that explained EVERYTHING- let’s just say I was really eager to dive into this one and I may be very, very self-indulgent (and descriptive, oopsie). 100% fluff and sfw, but let me know if you want to spice things up!

Relationships never came smoothly for you, mostly because it takes a hard time figuring out how to actually start them and keep things going without tripping on the stones along the way. Yes, you have a few friends, that are enough, and you are in a relationship with an amazing boyfriend… still, you’re not a social butterfly, and sometimes you find yourself struggling with communication, especially in bigger groups; a plus if there are more strangers than acquaintances

On a daily basis, you like to go by your agenda on your own. If it means work or your spare time, your own company is fine, thanks. It’s not like you hate being surrounded by others, but… ok, crowds make you uncomfortable, but apart from that it’s just a personal preference. Alone, you can concentrate, be inside your own world… let your mind lose a bit from self-consciousness and pre-made conversations to assure you’d succeed this time

People would point you out as weird, and you know they’re right: you’re indeed different. It’s hard to be casted out merely for being who you are, and you do try your best to blend in, make small conversation, mimic what everyone else around you did. Still, you could never leave your own skin to be something else

But in Cole’s eyes, that’s exactly what made you special. You see the world through different colors, and spoke with such a burning passion about your interests, an expert over the small details that no one else would care for, that doesn’t matter if he hasn’t a single clue on what that’s about, he will listen to whatever you have to say and follow along as it’s the most amazing subject brought up through all the existence 

“You’ve got such a beautiful brain right there,” during one of your conversations, he would compliment you out of the blue, leaving you speechless as a warm feeling crawls from your neck to your face, spreading through your cheeks. It takes a while for you to absorb his words, in between a few blinks and him sheepishly winking at you. “Don’t know why I’d be surprised. It matches your looks.”

You were astonished to perceive him, a popular figure amongst Overwatch and the whole damn world for sure, was giving you so much attention. On the other hand, you suppose Cole could make small talk of a stone if he wanted to; the cowboy had a charisma bigger than his ego, that’s for sure 

But the little things… they’re enormous in meaning; and his actions speak louder than his words. Cole would always choose to sit by your side and bring up the chit chat, asking about your day or what you had for lunch if he wasn’t there with you; and saints save you if your reply is that you hadn’t eaten yet. He’d show interest, and damn! He even begin to read your favorite trilogy because all you did was speak of it nonstop, so he had to check it out by himself to make sure you have a good taste

His company always made you feel appreciated, something you couldn’t bring up on yourself alone; you enjoyed being on your own, but you didn’t enjoy yourself actually. And by the point the things between you start to get more serious than just long talks going on and on about your shared enthusiasms, you’ve already realized there’s nothing wrong with you, nor the way you speak, less who you are

Finally, you’ve stopped trying to change yourself just because it would please anybody, but you. Communication skills may not be your highlight, but was it all? Of course not. You have so much inside of you that must be cherished, instead of blaming yourself because a single conversation went wrong

But that brutal change failed to reach another significant point. You couldn’t stand up for yourself, no matter what. Usually, you just low your head and… let it be, no matter how harsh are the words you’re listening to or how perfectly fit the arguments you construct in your head are, enough to end the term. But the unspoken is cruel as it is, leaving unfair gaps of what could’ve been if you only had the courage to vocalize the damn words

It’s easier said than done, right? Or better: easier imagined than actually said. Anxiety is an overwhelming feeling that tingles under your skin with the mere thought of taking action, three times worse if you’re under pressure or being scolded for something you did. No matter how much you think of a response, it will die right on the tip of your tongue, and leave your mouth tasting like ashes 

And when all of it hits you, it’s too much. You just seek your comfortable loneliness to let it out. Though, you’re not so lonely now

“Darlin’, the world won’t end if you speak your mind for once,” Cole was your anchor, keeping you from drifting away, and he never failed from being physically reassuring: embracing you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear or even wiping your tears away if you’re stressed enough to let them out. Despite it, he was the very first to encourage you to fight for yourself, pushing you off the limits of your carefully built comfort zone. “I will be there for ya’ anytime, but I’m sure as hell you don’t need me for it.”

Maybe you don’t, and maybe he’s right… but Cole is also warm, and has an incredibly good chest for you to snuggle your face on and just lay there for hours, nonstop; safe as he soothe your sadness away, as if he was simply shooing a fly from the room

Silence will settle, but not for long. Cole holds on your chin, his thumb caressing the skin as he pushes you gently to stare at him. Something in his eyes gets you out of guard, and your heart fails a beat by the sight of his tenderness, pouring through his expression. “Promise something, would ya’?” you can barely blink as he speaks, a hand running up and down your spine until it abruptly stops as you nod for him to keep going. “You’re the most marvelous being I’ve found in this whole world. Never let anyone make you think you’re less than that.”

[whygalaxy]

Little Bunny

♡⃕ Relationship} Quackity x Bunny Hybrid!Fem!Reader

♡⃕ Summary} “You were found injured, Quackity is forced to take care of you. He ends up having feelings for you, and you end up going into heat."

♡⃕  TW.} Heat; NSFW; Smut; Breeding Kink; Slight Size Kink; Innocent Kink.

♡⃕ Notes} English is not my first language, there may be mistakes. I’m sorry for anything. I'm sorry if this fanfic seems kinda bad, I made it while I was dying (I was sick)

You were found by Sam in the middle of the forest, injured, looking like you had been attacked by some type of predator. You were so small and fragile. A little hybrid bunny, you couldn't stay here alone… Sam felt sorry for you, and decided to help you.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

“I’m not keeping her!” Quackity says in an irritated tone while smoking his cigar. Sam lets out an irritated sigh, "Come on Quackity, she's hurt, I can't keep her, I have to monitor Dream!" He counters. Quackity grumbled, rolling his eyes, you were useless to him. You were so small, you looked so fragile, besides being a bunny, what could you do but run and get scared? “Ugh, Right! I’ll stay with her, but if she does anything, I’ll throw her in your face!”

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

“Thank you very much again, for accepting me Mr. Quackity!” You say, walking behind him like a begged puppy. Quackity rolls his eyes, it was the tenth time you've thanked him… "Okay, whatever…" He says, taking you to his office, you held a bucket with water and sponge in your little hands. “In order for you to stay here, you have to be useful.” He says, as he opens the office door, he turns to you. “You will do everything I say, do you hear me? I don’t want you to leave this office until everything is sparkling!” He says looking at you, you nod quickly. Your bunny tail was wagging anxiously.

So it was done, you obeyed everything he say. Being completely grateful to him for accepting you, you cleaned, cooked, and even ran a bath for him. Quackity hated to admit it, but he was starting to have feelings for you, you were so cute… you always did whatever he demanded, no matter what it was… He enjoyed your company, your innocent and adorable aura always made him feel better.

Everything was going well…

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

“Hey Charlie, have you seen the little bunny?” Quackity asked, worried about you. Little bunny was the affectionate nickname Quackity had given you. You were always punctual, and when you were late, you always apologized, usually you counted too many carrots in your sleep. But you hadn't been anywhere in the casino all day.

“The little bunny hasn’t left her bedroom all day.” Charlie says innocently. Quackity was thoughtful, why wouldn't you leave your room all day?… Worried, he goes to your room, he tries to open the door but… it's locked… He found that strange, you never left your room locked… " Bunny? Is everthing okay?" he asked, but didn't receive any response.

Worried, he takes the spare key to your room and unlocks the door. He enters and closes the door. Only to find you, totally naked, your little fingers inside your tiny pussy, trying to give you some kind of pleasure… Ah, what a lovely sight… You were in heat…

"Little Bunny?" Quackity calls out, you were startled by his sudden voice. You quickly remove your fingers from inside you, sitting on the bed with your legs closed, your cheeks red with embarrassment as you looked at him, breathing heavily.

“My poor little bunny… you need help, don't you?…” Quackity says in a cocky smile, locking the bedroom door. You nod desperately, tears in your big eyes. You needed him to touch you… Fill you…

He walks over to your bed, sitting next to you. You invitingly open your legs, wanting him to touch you, and he does.

He starts rubbing your clit, feeling how wet you were. So he sticks two fingers inside you, they slide in easily because of how wet you were. You moan, never feeling this stretched, his fingers being so much bigger than yours. Quackity moves his fingers in and out quickly, making you moan and cry. You were so sensitive…

“Quackity… Please…” You beg, desperate to have his cock fill you. You were a needy little thing… He smiles, removing his fingers from inside you, you whimper at the loss of contact. He takes off his clothes, letting out a satisfied sigh when his erection is finally free, you look at his cock, drooling, it was big and thick… It made you want him even more.

He grabbed a handful of your hair, placing your head against the pillow. He grabs your hips, lifting them up and holding them tightly. Your bunny tail was wagging happily, and your pussy was wet in a way that invited him.

So, he shoves hiscock inside your tiny tight hole. You scream in pain and pleasure, having never felt so stretched before, Quackity gives you time to adjust, before starting to fuck you hard. His thrusts were fast and strong.

You moaned loudly with pleasure, very sensitive due to your heat. Quackity's thrusts were strong, his cock constantly hitting your bruised womb, threatening to enter at any moment. He grabs your bunny ears, making you cum, since your ears were so sensitive.

“Quackity!” You cry out, your hot walls squeezing his cock tightly. This pushes him to the limit. “I’m going to cum!” He groans, you let out a moan, desperate to be filled, "Please! Come inside me! Fill me!" you beg him to cum inside you. So he does, cumming inside you, filling your womb.

Quackity pulls out of you, releasing your hips. You fall onto the mattress, completely exhausted and tired. Quackity does the same, falling to your side, he catches you and pulls you into his chest, grabbing the blanket that was on the floor and covering you both. Both panting and sweaty from the intense activity.

“Thank you… Thank you…” You whimper, snuggling into his chest, your bunny tail wagging happily. Quackity smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You’re welcome, my little bunny.” he says with affection in his voice.

"I love you…." You say, smiling starting to sleep on his chest, feeling loved and protected in his big strong arms. He laughs, thinking you're an adorable little thing, you were so small, you fit perfectly in his arms. “I love you too… My little bunny”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[thebroccolination]

KRIST AND BOUN: THE VERY EXCITING POTENTIAL FRIENDSHIP THAT ONLY MATTERS TO ME

I love Boun. I love Krist. I love them separately for different reasons and I’ve followed them for about the same amount of time.

Because they’re similar and I love them, I have been pie-in-the-sky, playfully hoping that my two favorite extroverts may become friends somehow for FOUR YEARS and TODAY KRIST JUST CASUALLY POSTED HIMSELF GIVING BOUN A GIFT ON HIS BIRTHDAY.

LIKE.

I’ve been documenting this.

And, y’know, at first it was tongue-in-cheek stuff, right.

Like on October 25th, 2023, they both met their respective idol on the same day.

And Pup and Mark aren’t celebrities Krist and Boun are normal about. Krist got “P” tattooed on the back of his neck as a partial dedication to ‘P’up from ‘P’otato (it’s also Krist’s own name’s initial, also Peraya, etc.) and Boun once famously told Mark Tuan that as long as he got to see his ankle, he’d die happy. I love two very measured and chill fanboys.

Then they wore similar shirts one time.

Essentially I’ve loved Krist and Boun separately but fervently for four years, and for fun I was doing a lot of, “I’ve connected the two dots. I’ve connected them.” /shane

But Boun was part of Studio Wabi Sabi and Krist was with GMMTV and while it wasn’t impossible for them to interact, it definitely wasn’t likely. So I mostly made peace with this being a goofy game I like to play.

And then—

OH LOOK MY SON IS NOW IN MY OTHER SON’S COMPANY.

AND HEY MY SON WELCOMED MY OTHER SON TO HIS COMPANY.

At this stage I’m like, “Oh, so I’m god’s favorite. Fun trivia.”

I’m all revved up looking for any other indication that they’ve met or talked or interacted, but the universe keeps making a gentle mockery of my long-shot dream.

“Oh, you want to see Boun and Krist at the showcase?”

“Here you go. Oh, Boun is too small? No problem, let’s make him bigger.”

Then, oh, BounPrem are recording with a producer Krist follows on Instagram.

And Boun does the dance for Krist’s song “Call Me.”

Then of course Krist advertises Boun’s upcoming concert on Livehouse.

THEY KNOW EACH OTHER EXISTS.

THEY WORK IN THE SAME COMPANY.

AND NOW KRIST HAS GIVEN BOUN A BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

THIS ISN’T THE BEST DAY EVER YET BUT WE’RE GETTING THERE.