#before everything they all had to go through some kind of something some kind of development

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day nine: Cheating!

cw: cheating, dubcon, noncon, mentions on rape, open relationships? (Johnny and Simon share), rough sex, mentions of blood, mentions of saliva, fingering, oral sex on reader, bruising, voyeurism, ‘don’t get caught’ trope, ignorance, degrading names such as ‘whore’, vocal Simon, creampie, mentions of having a child

Simon and Johnny who are so used to sharing each other’s little toys: their own girlfriends. It’s a weird bond that brings the two of them together. It’s sick and fucking perverted but it’s something to talk about when the weather turns cold and on a mission.

Sipping on their drinks as they recharge their batteries mumbling a, 'Remember so and so?’ getting a ‘Yeah, they were a good fuck.' in response.

It was more than likely one of the reason why the two blokes struggled with keeping their girlfriends. Most of them rejecting and breaking up with them when they’d bring it up because what woman who was looking for a family, a life, love, would want to fuck their boyfriend’s best friend? Or be tampered with?

The two of them had grown a lot of respect and loyalty for each other from this little routine. A ridiculous amount when you put it against how much respect they gained from each other at war. Protecting one and others lives, killing for each other, just doesn't help the same than sharing some good pussy. Weird logic that not even they understood but with all said, they were tight, close.

So when Johnny got his hands on you, a pretty little thing that refused to fuck until the third date he knew not only was he in danger, but you were. He knew how much Simon would ruin you, take that precious little hole of yours and stuff you so deep you'd feel it for days. Johnny just fucking knew it would happen and when you'd finally let him inside, invited him into your heavenly cunt- he couldn’t let him steal you.

Too delicate and light for Simons heavy way with sex.

"So when's my turn?" The gruff, masked man would ask Johnny. Conversation of you being brought up and the words just tumbled from the cracks of his lips. Normality and need seeping through his tone because as it was such a statement in his and Johnny's relationship, he’d think no other way.

Not once would he even consider the possibility of Johnny turning around and refusing, saying no. Telling him that your pussy- your body- is just for him. Claiming you against his own kind. Barricading and locking you away from him in his designed cell of greed.

It wasn’t going to end well, Johnny was sure of it, so with an awkward laugh and the rub of his neck he spun around facing him, eyes catching Simons through the mask before clearing his throat. Words coming across shakier than intended because he wasn't intimidated by Simon, more fretful of what he’d do knowing that you were off limits.

"Actually, lass is a good' ne. Think she might be a keeper Si." Silence filling the room for about five seconds, the slow click of the clock on the wall the only audible thing. Simons gaze not changing once and it killed Johnny, bugged him harder than a kick to the teeth.

Everything about him yearning to know what Simons brain was thinking or what he was planning, wanting to reach out and shake him, beg him to back off. They were getting old now, it was bound to be called off at some point- when they properly wanted to settle down and have kids and a family, right?

"Oh really?" His accent and words a monotone warning but Johnny was so flushed with relief that he hadn’t exploded and raged at him, his ears missed it. Missed the way his blinks slowed, analysing the man in front of him. Missed the way Simons personally and mindset changed. New thoughts drowning his head so hard he forced out exhales to think straight. Did he think he was better than him? More deserving of your body than gruff ol’ Simon over here? Worthier?

He was fucking seething, the metallic taste in his mouth potent as he bit his tongue, refraining to tell Johnny to go fuck himself, stand up and find you. Go track you down and make you cry both of their names just so he can hear which one sounds better or which one turns him on more.

Moaning your boyfriend’s name so loudly while his friend hits that one part. Choking out, crying out for Mactavish as your eyes roll back, tongue drooping out the side of your lips too. He’d be a liar to say his dick wasn't twitching at the thought.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry Simon-" But he was already shaking his head, hand waving him off with a sly smirk on his face as he told him no worries! Told him that's its alright and that he completely understands. Barely moving an inch the rest of the night as he came up with plans on what he's going to do to you. What he did in fact do to you.

Face down in yours and Johnny’s double bed. Panties damp with your cum from how many times Simon had already made you orgasm, shirt wet with tears and saliva. Rubbing your clit so harshly and fast your body trembled at every little touch. The fine line between touching and fucking, abuse and rape being blurred but you craved it. You longed for it, days of wishing and wondering when he’d come back to please you again.

He’d force your legs apart, holding you by the ankles while he ate like a mad man. Devouring you messily, the noises sounding like a fucking porn movie. Ruining your makeup, your sheets, your body. You couldn’t look Johnny in the eye when he got on all fours, kissing your thigh and humming against the soft skin while asking how you’d got another bruise.

Day and night- when Johnny's downstairs and when he's away. He'd have you begging to stop, pleading him to let you go before you’d lose yourself. His thrusts silencing you, cries turning to moans back to cries to screams of joy- it was mesmerising and so fucking bad of him.

“Oh shut up, babe. You know you want me.” He’d grunt, eyes shutting as he took you in again and again. Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and ignorance for your cries. Knowing it was only a matter of time before you gave in again, joining him and thrusting back against his cock.

What made it worse was the moans that came from this man. Johnny was never vocal- never vocal enough for you but Simon sounded almost in tears. Each thrust like he’s on the brink of orgasm, you felt so good he couldn’t stay quiet- he didn’t want to.

His favourite memory was when he snuck into your window, almost kicking the stupid Halloween decorations Johnny had put up outside on his way up. The sky pitch black and your bedroom likewise but he could see you in his night vision goggles, sneaking behind you as you changed out of your clothes getting ready for bed.

Bending you over the bedframe, peeling down your panties and thrusting into you for a quickie. The sound of Johnny's electric toothbrush coming from the bathroom one room away only adding to his excitement. He could step in any minute by now, luckily from the darkness Simon had an advantage and most likely enough time to hide if he wanted to. If he wanted to leave your pussy.

Gloved fingers slipped into your mouth for you to suck or bite. Anything to help silence your moans. It excited him the fact that Johnny could find him, Johnny could catch him and realise all this time he though you were safe and committed to him you’d gone behind his back. His precious little girl who actually is just a dirty whore. A dirty whore who lets her hole be used. By men she doesn’t even know.

He wonders what you do when Johnny brings him up in conversation, I mean, he figures you haven't spilt the beans to him yet so do you just laugh and nod on along? Hearing his name, acting like you don't know his touch or how his tongue feels. Pretending he's a stranger, just some stranger who's dick is drilled into your memory. He doesn't fuck like Johnny, he's bigger than him, hits all the places that Johnny can’t. You can never get Simon out of your mind.

Filling you up with his cum and laughing deeply at himself. He's got to be careful with it- what if you two were trying for a baby? That would be a shock, wouldn’t it? Gorgeous little kid coming out looking just like Simon- Simons eyes, Simons hair; a little mini Simon left all for you to raise.

Maybe Johnny would be too thick to realise, too slow to pick up on why his son looks so much like his best friend- that the son he’d always wanted actually belong to Simon. Oh fucking hell, he was a dark deluded arsehole- who thinks like this? Slipping back out of the window and shutting it the same time as Johnny walked into the room.

Large soft body crawling on top of you and pushing you further into the bed. Lips attacking your sensitive neck as his already hard cock slips its way inside of your warm, creampied folds. The darkness hiding all the evidence and leaving him to believe it’s just how wet you are for him. How needy and desperate you are for him.

Blissfully unaware that the wetness lubing his cock up, letting him fuck you with ease and making him feel so hot and so good, was no other than his best friends cum. Dribbling out your hole and onto your thigh as he picks up the pace.

[azrielbrainrot]

Take Me Back To Eden

Pairing: Shadow King!Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Throne Sex

Description: You've dreamt of the day Azriel would come back home for so long that you find yourself at a loss now that it actually happened. Luckily, it all falls into place as soon as your eyes meet his.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, throne sex, some fingering, some dirty talk, you know the usual

Word Count: 4,2k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This was originally supposed to be a rhys story but there will be plenty more opportunities to write about throne sex with him. Also this ended up actually having some plot and extremely fluffy. Hope you enjoy!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

The halls of this castle are intimately familiar to you, having walked them a thousand times over when your closest friend lived here with his family and a thousand more working here as a maid, keeping an eye on the palace and its new residents while Azriel and his allies found a way to take back his power and his rightful seat on the throne.

You've worked tirelessly for this moment, dreamed of it more times than you could ever count, but now that the walls were painted in the traitors' blood and his intoxicating scent permeates the halls once again, you found yourself at a loss, slowly making your way to the throne room to meet him, one foot in front of the other, letting your body guide you as your mind wandered.

Azriel has been by your side for as long as you can remember, even before you truly knew what him being the heir to the Shadow Throne truly meant. Your father was exceptional at his job, landing him not only the position of Head Healer of the kingdom but also the King's private healer. This meant he spent a lot of his time at the palace, becoming an important figure in the court.

Azriel's father was cruel, manipulative and nothing short of terrifying. As much as you resented your father, you could understand why he was too scared to go against his wishes, always following every order without question, even when that included bringing you to the palace to be the heir's friend whether you liked to or not.

When your father first told you of the King's decision to let you and Azriel be friends since you were about the same age and he thought you'd be a good influence on him, you had been scared out of your wits, crying your eyes out and begging him not to take you with him, all in vain of course. You had never met Azriel before and so you expected him to be just as heartless as his father and older brothers, no one you ever wanted to spend any time with let alone befriend.

The stories circulating the kingdom weren't kind to him either - people talked of the bastard's son with poorly concealed disdain, about how he had lived locked in a tower, barely taken care of for most of his life until against all odds the shadow's chose him as successor instead of his full noble-blooded brother's; everyone seemed to think he wasn't worthy of the throne since he was the son of a maid and barely educated, completely neglected since birth, but alas the shadows had made their decision, and no one, not even the King, could go against their wishes.

Azriel was a shadow of the male he is now when you met him, too shy and traumatized to even look you in the eye or speak a word to you, sticking to the corners of the room, hiding himself as best as he could in the midst of his shadows. You were only nine when you met him, a year younger than him, and even then you couldn't imagine all the pain he had gone through, vowing to help him and stay by his side as you watched him cower away from the light, dressed in expensive clothing as if that would hide all the pain and suffering he had been subjected to.

Actually befriending him was harder than you initially thought. You spent countless days simply trying to get him to speak a word to you, almost wearing yourself out as you talked and talked, about anything and everything, trying to find something that would catch his attention and get him used to your presence. Gradually he started opening up more, answering your questions with a nod or shake of his head, and then a word or two, until bit by bit you started having full conversations, his voice rising in volume with time as well. His other lessons helped make him more confident in himself too as he found his place in the world.

Azriel told you about his mother and how much he missed her; about the treatment he endured in that cold tower and how sometimes he still wished he was there instead of next to his father; how his older brother's retaliated for not being chosen by burning his hands when he was only a child who didn't even know what it meant, how his hands still ached at the smell of fire and just the sight of the marred skin sent a stabbing pain through his heart, keeping them concealed with leather gloves most of the time. It was only years later when he let you see them and hold them in your own, the same night he told you he had been sneaking outside the palace, making other friends and traveling his kingdom as far as his wings allowed him, taking you with him for the first time.

The days you spent sneaking away with him and the new friends you made were some of the best of your life, the only ones where you had truly felt free, but sadly they wouldn't last. Shortly after Azriel came of age, his oldest brother killed his father and seized the throne, chasing Azriel and every sympathizer out of the palace and forcing him to go into hiding. You've barely seen him since then, only managing a few secret meetings over the years while he prepared to take back his crown.

Your father had been among the casualties and your family's sudden fall from grace landed you a job cleaning the palace where that hateful usurper now lived. Unwilling to resign yourself to serving the male who almost killed the only person you've ever loved, you started working as a spy, sending out encrypted letters about the movements within the palace and any important information you could get your hands on to hopefully help Azriel as much as you could.

Of course when he found out you were putting yourself in danger like that, he flew over to your house despite the search parties still raking through every corner of the kingdom. It had been the last time you spent more than a few hours with him and most of those had been spent fighting, but the memory brought a smile to your lips all the same. Even though you were screaming until your voices became hoarse, it was clear that it all stemmed from your love for each other and how worried both of you were at just the thought of the other being in danger. Azriel had also left your house with a chaste kiss to your lips, a line you had never crossed before, and a whispered promise of surviving and coming back for you, for his throne.

Taking the last turn to the throne room, you find yourself in the present, every other thought escaping your mind when you hear his voice muffled behind the door, heart swelling in your chest instantly. You only caught a glimpse of him when he first stormed the palace grounds earlier that night, unable to linger and watch as you needed to fulfill your role and help every innocent bystander escape through the back doors.

Judging by the blood and the few corpses still scattered throughout the halls, you missed a hard-won battle, but the lack of urgency in the sentry sent by Azriel to get you told you there weren't any severe injuries to worry about, among your friends at least. As excited as you had been for tonight, the thought that Azriel could get hurt kept you up for days.

The smell of smoke still lingered in the air and you found yourself twisting your hands together, wondering if the smell still brought him the same awful memories, wondering if you still knew him after all this time, if it would all be the same.

Raising a shaky hand to open the door, you find five pairs of eyes falling on you as soon as the room is revealed to you, hands reaching for their swords before noticing it was you and not any lingering soldiers, still on high alert from the fight. Their reaction makes you pause, startled momentarily before taking another step into the room when their serious faces turn into smiles.

It had been a long time since you've seen the neighboring kingdom's prince, - King, you correct yourself, - his general and his cousin. You've met them when you used to sneak out with Azriel, spent countless nights together causing harmless trouble as youths do. They had been with Azriel when you couldn't, helping him get to this point from the front lines while you stayed behind in the palace. Amren also stood by their side, the centuries old mage looked as unnerving and unruffled as ever, perhaps the best kind of ally Azriel could ask for.

Speaking of, your eyes quickly dart around the room, finding those beautiful hazel eyes at last, heart stalling in your chest when you find them already expecting yours. Azriel was sitting on the throne, on his throne, clad in black leathers as his shadows lazed around his body. His shoulders had gotten broader and his powerful wings were sitting up high behind him, unbelievably large, the blood of his enemies still staining his armor - the perfect image of a King.

A smile falls over his stupidly handsome face when his eyes meet yours, standing up to greet you immediately. This sets you in motion, your steps speeding up as your body carries you to him, barely acknowledging the rest of your friends as they excused themselves with knowing smiles, closing the door behind themselves just as you walked up the last steps to the throne, throwing your arms around Azriel's neck, a gleeful chuckle escaping him, catching you in his arms effortlessly, wings wrapping themselves around you as well.

It was almost overwhelming being able to hold him in your arms after so long, feeling his warmth against your body, his scent assaulting your senses as you breathe him in, vowing to never let him leave you behind ever again. You're unsure how much time passes before he pulls away, gently prying your face from his neck so he can study your teary-eyed expression intently, one arm still wrapped around your waist as he takes you in.

Gods, you almost forgot how downright mesmerizing he was. From this close you could count his eyelashes and every green speck in his hazel eyes, if you moved just a breath closer, your nose would bump against his, another one and his lips would fall on yours. His hand craddled your cheek, his bare hand you noted, the rough, familiar texture sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers caressed your skin softly.

“We did it,” you breathe out, watching the smile on his face grow even wider, a breathtaking sight. He leans down, kissing your other cheek and murmuring the same words back at you against your skin, relief clinging to every word.

His body was still somewhat tense against yours, wings tightening behind him every so often as his breath came out in puffs, his lips peppering small kisses from your cheek up to your forehead and then down to your jaw, trying to reach every bit of skin while you tried to check him for injuries or any other sign of discomfort, remembering he had just come back from battle.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

Azriel simply shakes his head against you in lieu of an answer, tucking himself deeper into the crook of your neck, breathing your scent in again, his hold on your body tightening as well.

“Is it too much to bear?”

When his brother took over he didn't only steal his father's shadows but also Azriel's. It had been strange to see him without those wisps of darkness clinging to his form, unnerving even, and you know that becoming accustomed to not having them by his side was the hardest trial for him to overcome. But now that his brother was dead and he finally sat on his throne, his shadows had returned to him at last, and the ones who were once his father's followed them.

“Could be worse,” he says, a shudder betraying his attempt at a leveled tone. “They like the scent of blood.”

A tremble runs through your treacherous body, the low timber of his voice as he spoke against your skin, lips brushing you with every word making it hard to keep your mind working properly. He hums at your body's reaction, tongue peaking out to lick over your pulse point, feeling your heart racing faster and faster under him.

“Azriel-”

“They like yours even more. Always did.”

The confession hangs in the air as he continues to lap up at your skin, his teeth coming out to play and mark you ever so softly, teasing your supple skin. It looked like he was barely restraining himself, trying his best to hold onto sanity while you trembled in his arms.

You knew having this many shadows suddenly singing to him had to be extremely overwhelming after so long stuck in silence, the power that came with them and now also rumbled under his skin even more so. He needed an outlet, and you both knew the blood he already spilled wasn't nearly enough.

“Let me help you.”

The groan that escaped him echoed around the room, pulling away from your neck with a harsh bite and finding your lips before you could even react, finally unleashing himself at your proposal. His shadows followed his lead as always, falling over your body as he did, twisting and turning as they roamed over you. A frenzy overtook you as well, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing to feel him under your skin, so deep he wouldn't be able to escape ever again.

The lights deemed even further around you, until only the moonlight filtered through his shadows, making it hard to see when you managed to pull away and take a breath, your eyes blinking as you tried to watch him in the dark. He had no such problem of course, unashamedly studying your face as you recovered, biting your bottom lip and licking at the drool gathered in the corners of your mouth, moaning at the way your scent deeped with arousal and mingled with his own.

The lines had always been blurred at best between the two of you, fear the only thing keeping them intact in the first place, but now you didn't have to worry for his or your safety anymore, about what his or your parents would think or do if they found a weakness in the other, now you could finally give in to each other without worries.

It had always been a poorly concealed secret how much you wanted each other anyway, and now that nothing was stopping you and he was finally in your arms, you could barely keep this craving down. You could only imagine what it felt like for him with the addition of the new untamed power running through his veins and the pesky shadows whispering in his ear.

Azriel starts walking backwards until he reaches his throne, bringing you along with him for the entire way as he catches your lips between his once again, sending your mind stumbling along with your feet. When he sits down, your body naturally follows to straddle his thighs, and you pull away with a gasp, his hard cock pressing where you need him most.

The maid's uniform you still wore was thrown over your head in a flurry of movements, revealing your unmarked and unobstructed body to his hungry gaze. Unable to stop himself, Azriel leaned closer, sucking a nipple into his mouth as his hands moved all over your body, caressing and grabbing every bit of skin and flesh he could, leaving you tugging at his leathers so you too could rid him of the bothersome clothes blocking your view, as good as you always thought he looked in them.

It's only with a whine of his name and a particularly harsh tug at his black, messy curls that he pulls himself away from you and helps you take the top part of his leathers off. You had been right about his shoulders getting broader, his entire body looked more muscular too. Of course the heir to the throne had been training since he was a child and Azriel had always been a large male, but after having to literally fight to survive, he was left with cleaner muscles, and quite a few scars you had never seen before scattered over his torso, making a mental note to ask him about them later.

He barely gave you any time to fully take him in, moving to unbutton his pants without pause, settling for pushing them down only enough to uncover his throbbing cock, your attention quickly falling on it. Your hand wraps itself around him in curiosity, a delicious shudder running through him as you tighten your hold around his cock, stroking him up and down slowly, reveling in every harsh breath and the pool of desire growing in his eyes.

“I need more, angel.”

Nodding, you agree with him. “Me too.” You needed all of him, needed him to fill you up until he was the only thing you could smell, taste and feel.

He rips your underwear off unceremoniously, inserting two of his fingers inside you as slowly as his frenzied state of mind allows you to, your own body ignoring the slight pang of pain at the sudden intrusion as your hips start rolling into his hand feverishly. You were beyond soaked, the sounds his fingers elicited as he fucked them into you downright sinful as they echoed around the room along with soft moans and gasps of his name.

Azriel seemed transfixed on the way your cunt swallowed his fingers greedily, the hazel in his eyes barely visible around his blown out pupils. Gods, if you didn't stop him you think you would end up cumming entirely too fast which is why as much as it pained you to, you grabbed onto his wrist and stopped his movements, breathing out a rushed “Need you now,” when he looked up at you in question.

You used your grip on his cock to guide him to your entrance, lifting yourself up on your knees as his hands fell over your hips, helping you along, shivering when the head pressed against your cunt. Pressing down on him with a whimper, you let your weight drag you down his length slowly, throwing your head back with a loud moan at the stretch, walls fluttering wildly around him as they struggled to accommodate the delicious intrusion until he finally bottoms out, your body shaking uncontrollably on top of him.

Your lips find his yet again, getting lost in his taste as you start moving against him, his hands grabbing onto your hips hard enough to bruise as he grinds you down on him, breathy whines and moans swallowed in a passionate kiss, only pulling away when you start speeding up, moving up and down his length as his hips start meeting your thrusts, your hands holding onto the arms of the throne for better leverage, the way he was stretching you out and hitting every earth shattering angle threatening to make you lose yourself.

There was no doubt in your mind that anyone that walked by this hall could hear you, but you truly couldn't bring yourself to care about them, or that the walls were still covered in blood, or anything else for that matter. You had waited too long for this, to kiss him like this, to hold him like this, to feel him like this.

“You have no idea how many times I've dreamed of this,” he manages between pants, eyes darting around as he tries to take the maddening sight before him fully, only receiving a feverish moan in response from you, unforgivingly close to the edge as you were.

Hazel eyes darted around your body as he tried to take the maddening sight before him fully, taking note of the way you struggled to keep your eyes on him, mouth agape as the sweetest whines and gasps escaped unattended; the way your body moved with each roll of your hips, breasts bouncing as you did; and how perfectly you fit together, his cock disappearing inside you with every thrust.

His hands move down to your thighs, lifting your hips on his own now, your body simply following his lead, letting him take control as you moan out his name unabashedly. For a moment Azriel thinks his shadows, the crown and even the throne he was sitting on meant nothing if he didn't have you by his side, if he couldn't feel you like this again.

“Are you close, my love?”

One of your hands falls to hold onto his, needing to ground yourself, needing to feel him on every inch of your skin, needing to know this was real. Struggling to even breathe as he repeatedly hits every pleasure spot inside you, leaving you on the brink of madness.

“So close, Az.”

“Let go for me. Show me how sweet reality can be,” he murmurs breathlessly, obviously dangerously close himself. “Need you to give me everything, need to feel you falling apart on my cock.”

And fall apart you did, a gasp escaping your lips as an overwhelming amount of pleasure takes you under, drowning you completely under the waves as the world stands still, your body falling forward and shaking against him. Azriel keeps fucking into you, taking this new position as an opportunity to thrust into you even harder, chasing his own orgasm at the same time he prolongs yours.

You reach a hand out to caress the talon of his wing at the last minute, reminded of how sensitive they were, being immediately rewarded with a delicious whine of your name as he lets go, fucking his cum deep inside you with jerky motions until you were both spent, chests rising and falling against each other as you caught your breaths, meeting halfway in a kiss, his shadows covering your bodies once again.

Pulling away proves to be a monumental task, his lips chasing yours every time you try, having to push against his chest as you straighten your spine, trying to ignore his half hard cock still tucked inside you as he leans back against his throne, letting out a chuckle when he tries to pull you back to him and you send him a poor attempt at a glare, the smile plastered on your face and the fucked out look in your eyes making it less than believable.

“Do you feel better now?”

“I feel perfect,” he sighs dreamily, gazing up at you adoringly as his thumbs draw circles over your heated skin.

“So…” You trail off, not quite knowing what to say in this situation. After dreaming of not only having him back but also making him yours so many times, you couldn't find the right words now that it actually happened. “You're back.”

“I'm back, my love,” he confirms, cupping your cheek once again and rising up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips, the new pet name sending goosebumps traveling across your skin, your heart so full it felt like it would explode out of your ribcage.

“I had a speech ready, you know?”

“A speech?”

“I had every intention of talking to you before this happened, but words won't ever be enough to describe how much I love you.”

His words paired with the look in his eyes were making you beyond giddy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed you once more, drunk on your taste, unable to ever get enough.

“Say it again.”

Azriel lets out a delighted chuckle, pulling away so he can watch your face, taking you in before indulging you as he stares deep into your eyes.

“I love you. I've loved you for as long as I can remember,” he starts, voice soft as he did, “If I hadn't met you I wouldn't have been able to survive my father's cruelty, and if I didn't know you were waiting for me here, I wouldn't have been able to find the strength to come back and take back the throne. I owe you my life.” Tears gather in both of your eyes as he leans his forehead on yours, continuing, “The years I spent away from you were the hardest I've had to endure, and now that I finally have you back by my side, I won't ever let go. I don't want to spend even another second away from you.”

“I love you too,” you breathe, your heart so full it felt like you couldn't contain all your love for him inside.

Azriel kisses you again, tears now streaming down your faces as you cling to each other. He was right, words could never be enough to describe this moment, let alone the love you shared, but you were willing to whisper them as many times as you could until there was no breath left in your lungs.

[capquinn]

how would quinn react to reader doing that prank about when he says “goodbye/goodnight i love you” and you don’t say “i love you” back just to mess with him

omg this guy avoids tiktok like it’s the plague so there is no doubt in my mind that he has absolutely no idea about this trend so he’d be SO confused and wouldn’t know what to do with himself except pout and stay close until he gets to the bottom as to why you hadn’t said it back 😭

Quinn’s brow furrowed the second the words left his mouth and yours didn’t follow.

“See you soon. I love you,” he had said, as casually as ever, tossing his backpack over one shoulder, leaning in for his usual goodbye kiss.

But instead of the automatic, almost musical "love you too," that always followed, there was… nothing. Just you, standing there, watching him with the faintest glimmer of mischief in your eyes. At first, he paused, waiting like you’d simply forgotten. Maybe you were distracted. Maybe you didn’t hear him. He glanced back at the door, then at you again, the crease between his brows deepening.

“You good?” he asked, his voice light but tinged with the slightest bit of uncertainty, like he wasn’t entirely sure if this was normal or if he’d just entered a parallel universe where you suddenly forgot how this whole goodbye thing worked.

“Yeah,” you said breezily, smiling just enough to make him squint.

“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out as he shifted his bag higher on his shoulder.

He moved toward the door, opening it halfway before pausing again. And you could see it — really see it now — the way his mind was spinning, trying to figure out what he’d done, if he’d done anything, and why you weren’t playing along.

He half-turned, his hand on the doorknob, giving you one last expectant look.

“You, uh…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice quieter now. “You sure everything’s okay?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Yep.”

And that’s when the full force of Quinn’s what-the-hell-is-going-on face hit you. He didn’t look mad — not even close — but the confusion was written all over him. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again like he was about to ask a question but didn’t quite know how to phrase it. His hand fell from the door as he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You didn’t… You didn’t say it back,” he pointed out, almost cautiously, like maybe it wasn’t something you’d realised. “I said 'I love you.' You usually…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line as he waited for some kind of explanation, one that you weren’t giving because you were too busy pretending you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. You tilted your head, your expression perfectly blank except for the big, wide eyes you fixed on him.

“Do I not say it enough?” he asked, softer this time, like the words came with a little sting. “Is that what this is?”

And now you felt guilty because, of course, he’d think this was some kind of message, like you were trying to make a point instead of just pulling a dumb prank for no reason other than your own entertainment.

“Quinn,” you started, the smile breaking through despite yourself.

But he cut you off, shaking his head slightly, the tiniest bit of exasperation creeping in.

“Because, like… I mean it every time. You know that, right?”

And now you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laugh bubbled out, loud and sudden, and you reached for his hand, tugging him closer. “Oh my God, Quinn. I’m kidding. It’s a prank.”

His brow shot up. “A prank?”

“Yeah,” you said, still laughing as you slid your arms around his waist.

He huffed, but there was relief in it, his hands settling on your hips as he gave you a halfhearted glare.

“Not funny,” he muttered, though his lips were already twitching. “I was about to cancel my flight.”

“Sure you were,” you teased, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. He didn’t move, but you could feel the smallest twitch of a smile forming despite the way he was still obviously trying to stay mock-annoyed. “See? You’re too sweet. That’s why I had to mess with you.”

Quinn let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head like he was already filing this away as one of the countless pranks he’d endure over a lifetime with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice gruff but too soft to be anything but affectionate. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You couldn’t help it — you started laughing again, the sound spilling out as you tucked your face against his chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I love you,” you said through your laughter, your voice muffled.

His smile finally broke free, slow and warm and just so Quinn.

“I love you too,” he said, his tone soft now, steady, like those words were always going to be there no matter how much you tried to mess with him.

[3igbootyl0ver]

who hurt you? [ii]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: Tara mistakenly puts herself in a relationship she thought would be full of love.

word count: 1822

warnings: (Tara's POV), mentions of abuse, violence, angst, swearing

a/n: ok hi guys this is mostly Tara's POV and won't really be focusing btwn her and r's relationship. the next part would probably be the last one too but im always up on doing head canons for this pic. anyways apologies for any inaccuracy for this part, if ya'll have any feedback or suggestions feel free to dm me or send anonymously.

part [i] |

Tara never meant for any of this to happen.

She first met Amber a year ago, at a party that invited everyone from both Blackmore and Woodsboro High. Tara went with you at first, but you quickly got caught up in the chaos of the event, drinking with friends to drown your frustrations over the rivalry, leaving Tara to wander through the crowd alone.

Tara glanced around the room, feeling a bit out of place without you. It was her first real taste of a high school party, but somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. You were missing. Some were celebrating—laughing, dancing, and basking in the glory of their win over Blackmore—while others attended this party just for an excuse to get drunk, but Tara wasn’t feeling the same rush. That was when she noticed Amber standing off to the side, holding a drink and watching the crowd with a knowing smile.

Amber had been a wild card that night. No one expected her to show up, least of all Tara. But Amber’s reputation preceded her—everyone knew she was sharp, calculated, and, most importantly, she knew how to play the game. She wasn’t just there to celebrate; she was there to get ahead.

Tara’s initial impression of Amber was a mix of admiration and curiosity. Amber seemed to hold herself in a way that suggested she knew something no one else did. And that intrigued Tara, even if she couldn’t quite explain why.

As Tara wandered away from the chaotic center of the party, she ended up near Amber. The two of them started talking, mostly small talk at first—what they were doing after high school, the thrill of their victory, and the peculiar tension between Woodsboro and Blackmore. Tara found herself drawn to Amber’s cool confidence, the way she seemed to have everything under control.

But what started as a simple conversation slowly shifted into something deeper. Amber had a way of making Tara feel like she was the only one in the room, even when there were dozens of people around. Tara’s mind kept drifting back to the feeling Amber gave her: like maybe she could be something more, something beyond the quiet girl who never quite fit in.

And so, things began to unravel.

Tara never meant for it to go this far. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, just a casual connection. But somewhere along the way, Amber made it clear that she wasn’t just interested in Tara’s company—she had a plan, and Tara was a part of it. Tara hadn’t realized how deep Amber’s intentions went until it was already too late. Now, Tara was left to figure out how she’d let herself be pulled into something so complicated—something that, in hindsight, was far more than just a meeting between two people at a party.

Everything was bliss when Tara and Amber started dating. She was kind, gentle, and attentive—the kind of person who made Tara feel understood and like the most important person in the world. It felt like a dream. Amber would send her thoughtful texts, surprise her with little gifts, and always knew how to make her laugh. Tara felt safe, seen, and loved in a way she hadn’t before.

But as time went on, Amber’s true colors started to surface—slowly, almost imperceptibly at first.

It started with small criticisms. At first, they were disguised as concern, little comments about Tara’s appearance or habits that Amber claimed were meant to help her. "You know, if you ate healthier, maybe you wouldn't feel so tired all the time." Or, "I don’t think that outfit is really doing you any favors." Tara tried to brush it off, telling herself it was just Amber wanting her to be her best. But the comments grew sharper, more frequent.

"You always mess things up," Amber would say when Tara made a mistake, like forgetting to pick up groceries or missing a text. "Why can’t you ever get anything right?" Her tone wasn’t playful anymore. It was condescending, even cruel. Tara began to feel like she couldn’t do anything without Amber pointing out what she’d done wrong.

The verbal jabs escalated when Amber started to get possessive. At first, Tara thought it was just a sign of how much Amber cared. But Amber's jealousy started to feel suffocating. She'd ask Tara where she was going, who she was with, and why she didn’t tell her first. "You don't really need to hang out with them, do you?" Amber would ask, her voice dripping with insinuation. It would have been even worse if she had hung out with you. It was as if you were Amber's breaking point. "They don’t even care about you like I do." "I’m better than them; why are you still hanging out with them?"

Tara found herself apologizing constantly—for things she didn’t even understand; she would say sorry just to voice the tension. 

It was always the same cycle: Amber would get irritated for no reason, her voice would grow cold and sharp just to insult Tara. "You always do this; you always make everything more difficult than it has to be. Why can’t you just do things right?". The next day, Amber would be apologetic, trying to console Tara, making her forget everything that happened the day before. She said all the right things, but Tara couldn’t ignore the knot of anxiety that lingered in her chest. She had a way of twisting everything, making Tara feel like she was always in the wrong, walking on eggshells.

And soon, the emotional abuse turned into physical fights. One day, Tara had dinner plans with Mindy when Amber confronted her again, "You always do this," she snapped. "You always choose them over me." Her voice was cold, venomous.

Tara tried to explain, but Amber wasn’t hearing it. "You think you can just leave whenever you want? No, you’re not going anywhere." Before Tara could react, Amber grabbed her by the arm—tightly, her fingers digging into Tara’s skin. "You’re hurting me, Amber; let me go!" Tara shouted, trying to pull away, but her grip tightened. She twisted Tara’s arm painfully, forcing her to sit down.

Tara’s heart was racing. She didn’t recognize this version of Amber—this wasn’t the woman she had fallen in love with. The love they once shared felt like a distant memory, replaced with anger, control, and fear. Tara was terrified, but she didn’t know how to escape. Before the day ended, Tara made up an excuse to Mindy that she couldn’t make it. She thought about her friends. Chad, Mindy, You. How will she be able to explain herself? She’s embarrassed and ashamed of herself if she were to ever face either of you. 

There was once when Amber picked up Tara from school when she saw her talking to you, both of you giggling like lovestruck teenagers, like you were in love with each other. And Amber simply couldn’t have that. Once both of them got back to Amber’s house, she gripped Tara’s arm, demanding an explanation. "So you’re just whoring around your school with someone else? Especially them? You’re just a slut, aren’t you?" Amber seethed, her nails digging into Tara’s skin, leaving another mark on her skin. Tara stood there, tears streaming down her face, knowing no matter what she said, it would be dismissed, twisted, or ignored. "You’re mine, Tara. I’m not letting you go anywhere," were the last words she heard before being shoved down the stairs, undoubtedly leaving bruises all over her body. She knew the next day Amber would whisper apologies, giving her kisses and hugging her in an attempt to make her forget.

Tara began pulling away, distancing herself from you, from Chad, from Mindy, from Anika—everyone. It wasn’t that she didn’t care anymore, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Amber’s wrath falling on them, especially you. She couldn’t risk you getting hurt because of her, couldn’t risk Amber turning her anger on the people she loved. The more Tara tried to protect her friends, the more she isolated herself.

Every moment felt like a calculation; every text, every phone call, every plan made without Amber’s approval felt like a risk. Tara started to feel like a prisoner in her own life, like Amber was always there—watching, waiting for her to slip up, to make a mistake.

Amber had a way of making her feel like she was constantly under surveillance, always one misstep away from an explosion. Tara couldn’t shake the feeling that Amber was breathing down her neck, that every time she laughed too loudly with a friend or spent too much time away from her, Amber would find out. And when Amber found out, the consequences would be brutal. Tara had learned that the hard way.

It was like living in a constant state of fear. Tara’s heart would race whenever she saw a message from you or heard from one of her friends. She hated that it had come to this—that Amber’s control over her had stretched so far that she couldn’t even speak freely without worrying about the fallout.

But more than anything, she hated that the woman she loved, the woman she had trusted, had become someone she feared. Every day, she woke up wondering how much longer she could live like this. How much longer until Amber's control over her—and over everyone she cared about—was too much to bear?

Amber’s behavior spiraled even further. The emotional abuse had crossed into physical violence, and Tara was left unsure of where it would go next. Amber would apologize, beg for forgiveness, and then turn around and hurt her again. Tara began to feel like she was losing herself. She was afraid of what might happen if she tried to leave, afraid of what Amber might do. 

Though she would still post pictures of them together, of them being in a happy relationship for people to see online, the reality was far different. Behind the carefully staged photos, the smiles seemed forced, the laughter hollow. She knew the posts didn’t reflect the late-night arguments or the hidden marks on Tara’s body. Yet, there was comfort in the illusion, in maintaining a facade that everyone else admired. It was easier to keep up the pretense than to confront the discomfort of what was really happening—of the slow unraveling that no one could see. The attention, the validation from likes and comments, provided a temporary sense of relief, a distraction from the gnawing uncertainty she felt every time she looked at Amber when the camera was off. It became a blurred line for Tara to interpret what was the reality and the sick image she created of her and Amber online. 

But one thing was clear: this wasn’t love anymore. And Tara didn’t know how much longer she could stay in a relationship that was slowly suffocating her.

-----------------------------

a/n: next update might be awhile bc exam season is coming up and im a chill girl that needs to rest so you'll probably hear from me in like 2-3 weeks :p

[astralis-ortus]

form of affection

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— everything feels... new.

w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff warning → chan and reader both referred to as baby, one use of 'my girl', reader on period :(, minor cussing here and there, not proofread!ㅠ a.n → honestly i don't know what to write atm (aside from the continuation for that one seungmin fic) but i still want to write something lighthearted so... this happens. welp. :] ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

you messed up.

"fuck," you finally muttered under your breath, hand clutching your forehead in frustration. you know you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling earlier this morning and followed through with the precautions anyway.

again you turned against the mirror, still bearing some hope that whatever you saw earlier was just your eyes playing tricks on you, but no—the damned red spot on your white dress is still there, mocking you through reflection of your boyfriend's bathroom mirror.

"baby?"

you jumped at the sudden knock on the bathroom door, feeling like your heart has suddenly fallen to your feet. fuck—how are you supposed to tell him?

"are you okay? do you need me to come in?"

"no!" you hurriedly replied, only later cursing at yourself for not maintaining your composure. making chris worried was definitely your intention after going missing to his bathroom for quite a period of time, and your reply definitely wasn't helping your resolute.

"are you sure?" chris' voice were laced with concern, and you could even picture the frown that's definitely present on his forehead. "can you crack the door open? just so i'm sure you're really okay."

"it's just—"

"baby," again, the image of your boyfriend's stern gaze immediately popped up in your mind. "please? just one sec. i need to make sure that you're alright."

it's not that you're worried chris would say anything about it—you're well aware of the kind of person your boyfriend of 4 months is, and you completely trust him. it's just that…

you're embarrassed.

the click of lock were soon followed by a soft creak, revealing chris' concerned eyes beyond the slight opening of the door. his relief was audible even to you, gaze softening when he saw the glimpse of your flushed face.

"okay," chris' lips formed a soft smile, as if trying to soothe you, "are you sure all is good? do you need any help?"

"…today."

"hm?" blinking in confusion, chris brought his face closer to you, "sorry, baby, i couldn't—"

"i got my period today," you quickly repeated, cheeks heating up as you heard your own confession, "and i didn't bring any feminine products with me since i wasn't supposed to have it for another week. i also might've stained your couch. i'm sorry."

chris turned quiet, and you could practically see thoughts flashing through his eyes—but you're not a mind reader, and the passing seconds made your heart grew heavy. is he embarrassed to hear that? is he going to send you home? is he going to get upset? should you have not—

"if i'm not mistaken… i think there should be some pads and maybe some disposable underwear under the sink, baby," the sound of chris' voice promptly ceased the vortex of worry growing in your head, your eyes again meeting chris' clear ones, "i bought it a while back for you but i don't remember if i placed it here or in my room. could you check?"

despite the confusion, your body had instinctively moved along chris' request. to your surprise, you do find the items your boyfriend had mentioned, tucked neatly in a small box of necessities. you chest bubbled up in gratitude and filled with warmth—you never expected chris to do this for you, and yet, he managed to come over and beyond any of your expectations.

"found it?"

nodding your head, you swallowed back the tears welling up in your eyes. gosh—period hormones! "yeah, just found them. thank you, baby."

a sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the door, and you couldn't help but smile—if it wasn't clear before, then now you're determined to find a way to repay chris somehow. frankly, at times you still don't understand the lengths chris would willingly go for you, or if you even deserve to be at the receiving end of chris' gesture of affection at all. the chris you've gotten to know is so full of love, and you don't even know if you have the capacity to love him the way he cares about you.

but in the mean time,

you've decided to try and accept chris' form of affection for you.

"okay," you could hear the smile in chris' voice as he speaks, "i'll go grab a change of clothes for you while you settle down, yeah? oh, and you do know where the towel if you want to shower, right?"

"yeah, i know," you held back a giggle as you reappeared in chris' vision between the crack of the door, clutching the box close to your chest with a beaming smile, "thank you, baby. really. i really appreciate this."

and with a smile equaling to the warmth of a spring's sun, chris chuckled a reply,

"anything for my girl."

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter four a whirlwind of chaos and laughter turns into something much more when Miss Journalist and Hiori Yo can't ignore the spark between them any longer. blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader angst, fluff, slightly suggestive (if you squint) masterlist

"And action!"

The marketing manager’s voice slices through the steady crackle of sizzling chicken nuggets.

You’re back in Bastard Munchen’s pristine kitchen. Instead of lounging by the marble island sharing a plate of pot stickers with the players, you’re seated across from Hiori Yo—your favorite football player turned late-night gaming buddy.

For someone who admitted to staying up late last night (because he had to try that newly released game he’s been raving on about), he looks annoyingly refreshed. 

And, frankly, annoyingly fine.

A small round table separates the two of you, modestly set for a casual meal for two, like something out of a cozy café. The kitchen hasn’t changed much for this setup, save for the table serving as an odd centerpiece amidst its sleek, curated kitchen backdrop. The savory aroma of frying chicken nuggets fills the air, mingling with a faint whiff of rain you’re convinced is coming from Hiori.

Your "date" shifts in his seat, snapping you out of your thoughts. He flashes you an easy smile—the kind that promises everything’s going to be just fine. Behind him, the camera crew hovers, accompanied by the marketing manager.

“Hi,” Hiori says softly, his voice charming you like a spell, as if this really is some kind of meet-cute.

“Hello,” you reply, stifling a laugh. But your lips betray you, curling into a smile you can’t quite suppress.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The silence melts into shared giggles—like kids conspiring over a secret.

And maybe, in a way, you are.

“Ya look great today,” Hiori says, his gaze unwavering. He doesn’t give your outfit a once-over; instead, his eyes stay locked on your face, as though that’s all he needs to confirm your beauty.

“Thanks,” you reply, looking at your outfit consciously. “It’s nice to see you in normal clothes for once.”

Your confidence feels natural today, and you prop your head in one hand, soaking in the sight of him.

“Hmm... Ya make it sound like I wear a costume every time we meet,” he chuckles, tugging at the sleeve of his navy bomber jacket. His eyes flick away for a moment, and you catch the faintest hint of red at the tips of his ears.

Instead of his usual training jersey or the black-and-gold Bastard München kit, Hiori wears a simple black shirt beneath the jacket. It’s a casual choice that shifts his entire aura. You’ve seen him countless times, on and off the field, but almost always in his professional gear.

In your eyes, Hiori Yo has always been the football superstar—someone you interact with because of work, someone you talk to more than most because of work. Someone who probably sees you as just another face in the sea of media professionals.

But today feels different. This little illusion—the cozy setup, the way he leans into the role of your "date"—lets you live out a fantasy. For a moment, it feels like it could be real under different circumstances.

“And you,” you tease, leaning in slightly, “it’s nice to see how you’d dress for a date.”

“I am on a date.” His brows furrow slightly. “We’re on a date.” His voice is calm, his words spoken like an unshakable truth.

For a fleeting moment, he’s not a football superstar, not leagues out of your reach.

He’s just a guy across the table, someone you can picture sharing lazy Saturday afternoons with. Someone you could almost believe is sitting here because of you—and only you.

Before you can reply, Gagamaru steps in with impeccable timing. He sets down a plate of crispy chicken nuggets and furikake fries between you. The golden nuggets glisten under the kitchen lights as he places a bottle of ketchup and two cans of soda on the table.

Right. The shoot.

Just last week, Bastard München’s marketing manager emailed you about joining a new off-season content project. With the players finally on their mid-season break, the team plans a video series to spotlight individual players—to test their broader appeal to fans and potential sponsors.

Their words, not yours.

And the concept of the video you’re being invited for? A one-on-one interview styled like a date, featuring none other than their genius midfielder, Hiori Yo.

Apparently, your last collaboration—the behind-the-scenes “day in the life” video courtesy of JFA—had sparked unexpected chemistry.

It caught fans' attention, stirring days of chatter about you, Hiori, and Bastard München. It isn’t “worldwide trending,” but the buzz is undeniable. The fans just can’t get enough of the surprising, romcom-like moments between you and Hiori.

A lucky journalist interacting with one of the most elusive players of his generation. Shared moments as if it's straight out of a movie.

The dream for every fangirl.

This shoot was an experiment to explore Hiori’s broader appeal, pairing his quiet, understated charm with your relatable, approachable vibe. It’s also an opportunity to spotlight one of their more introverted players, someone who avoids the public eye as much as he can.

Your editor doesn’t hesitate to green-light the project. She’s all-in, shuffling your deadlines and clearing your schedule to make it happen. And her enthusiasm doesn’t even stop there. She nudged you more than once to “just go for it” with the charming midfielder. 

Because, as she so eloquently puts it, “What’s there to lose?”.

And now here you are, playing your part.

Your version of casual date attire: an oversized light-blue button-down (coincidentally matching Hiori’s eyes) left open over a white square-neck cami. It’s nothing flashy, just enough to look the part of someone on a date with someone they like.

“Hmmm, since this is a date, I guess I should start with some date questions,” you say, pursing your lips in mock contemplation. You pull out a small stack of cards the marketing manager handed you earlier and place them neatly beside the plate of food, within reach of both of you.

According to her, the cards are a mix of fun tweets and generic icebreakers designed to spark lighthearted conversation.

Across the table, Hiori munches on furikake fries, watching you with a small smile. His gaze catches yours mid-bite, and you feel a faint flush rise to your cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you decide to jump right into the questions, catching him just as he pops another fry into his mouth.

“Who’s your favorite player?” you ask.

“Easy—Mesut Özil,” he answers without a second’s hesitation.

“Favorite food?”

“Salt-grilled Pacific saury. I even like the bitter parts.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Ready Player One.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Really? I didn’t peg you for the geek type.”

Hiori grins, a little sheepish. “Well... I am. Watchin’ it got my otaku heart racin’.”

He leans back, the humor in his tone shifting to something softer. “Shouldn’t ya know that already? I talked yer ear off about Warhammer last time we played together.” He scratches the back of his neck, glancing away as though embarrassed by the admission.

You blink, caught completely off guard. “I didn’t realize it was at that level. I just thought, ‘Oh, Hiori's talking about his interests, that’s cool.’ I didn’t even know what Warhammer was until you brought it up.” You tighten your lips into a sheepish grin, waving your hands in exaggerated defense.

Hiori chuckles, shaking his head.

The moment is interrupted by a sharp cough off-screen. Both of you whip your heads toward the sound, eyes landing on someone in the crew.

“You guys play games together off hours?” someone asks, voice edged with curiosity.

“Yes?” you and Hiori answer simultaneously, far too quickly. Your voices carry the same nervous uncertainty, the shared “yes” echoing awkwardly between you and Hiori.

A beat of silence stretches, and you can feel the marketing manager’s eyes darting between the two of you, brimming with a curiosity you’re sure they won’t voice—at least not now.

As the buzz of the set picks up again, Hiori leans closer, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “Guess we’re both not so good at keepin’ secrets, huh?”

You clear your throat and push forward with the next question.

“What’s your strength?”

“As a person or as a player?”

You pause briefly. “Both, if you can.”

He leans back, thoughtful. “I guess… my ability to see things from a broader perspective.”

“And your weakness?”

“Playin’ too much.” He shrugs lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up in it, I lose motivation for other stuff.”

You’re about to fire off another question when he raises a hand, laughing. “Whoa, slow down! This’s startin’ to feel like a job interview.”

Your cheeks heat instantly. “Oh, sorry! Force of habit—y’know, journalist mode.” You laugh nervously, taking a sip of your soda to cover your embarrassment.

Hiori gives you a honest to goodness smile, as if amused. “So, this’s ya gettin’ to know me, huh?”

You set the cards down with a huff, deciding to switch gears. Inhaling deeply, you exhale a dramatic sigh. “Soooo… what’s your type?”

“Type of what?” he asks teasingly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Type of person, romantic partner, obviously.”

He tilts his head, giving the question some thought. “Someone who’s independent. I need space to do my own thing, especially when I’m gamin’. Ya know that already.” His gaze softens as it meets yours.

“But they should be there when it counts. Life as an athlete’s hectic—ya’ve seen how it is.”

You nod, pretending to jot down a mental note. “So… low-maintenance. Got it.”

Hiori chuckles, shaking his head. “Not low-maintenance—just someone who understands balance. And maybe someone who doesn’t mind long Monster Hunter sessions.” He smirks knowingly, and for a fleeting moment, the unspoken connection between you lingers in the air, understanding the inside joke.

Your bite your lips, trying not to smile too wide. “Well, that’s… oddly specific.”

Two months of Monster Hunter nights flash in your mind. Ever since Hiori casually suggested playing together, your evenings had been filled with wyvern hunts and co-op quests. He has an uncanny knack for strategy—always two steps ahead, always saving you when things got dicey.

And then there was that time he convinced you to try Nier: Automata. You’d never forget him backseating with a mixture of exasperation and amusement as you struggled to fend off machines as the stunning android 2B.

“No, no, dodge now! Okay, wait—parry—no, don’t roll off the edge!” His laughter still echoes in your mind.

Your expression softens as the memories linger, but you quickly rein yourself back into the present.

“Yer turn,” Hiori prompts, raising an eyebrow as if daring you. “What’s yer type?”

“Oh, uh…” You fidget with the hem of your sleeve, thinking. “I guess... someone kind, who can make me laugh. And…” You hesitate before adding, “Someone who respects my space and time, especially since I’m kind of a workaholic.”

Then, with a pointed glance, you add, “And someone who doesn’t put me on the spot during interviews.”

Hiori bursts out laughing, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Noted. I’ll behave.”

Before you can relax and skim through some of the cards, Hiori throws you a curveball. “What keeps ya goin’ when stuff gets rough?”

You blink, momentarily stunned by the weight of the question. His eyes lock on yours, searching. For a moment, you feel yourself slipping into those deep blue pools.

“Me? Oh, um…” You shift in your seat, unsure how to articulate your thoughts.

“I think it’s knowing I can tell stories that matter—stories that connect people.” You glance away, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s kind of a cliché, I know—”

“It's not,” Hiori interjects, his voice soft but firm. His hand brushes yours briefly on the table, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your fingertips. The sincerity in his gaze holds you in place.

“It shows ya care about what ya do. And that’s what counts, right?”

The warmth in his voice and the light touch of his fingers send heat creeping up your neck. You let the sensation linger for a beat before pulling your hand back, pretending to tuck a nonexistent stray hair behind your ear. The gesture does little to calm your racing thoughts.

Hiori continues, his expression contemplative. “I remember readin’ yer article.”

“Yeah?” You’re genuinely surprised he's bringing it up.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice softening. “The team was in a bad place back then. Greisner wasn’t even talkin' to anyone.” He chuckles awkwardly, and you catch a muffled, annoyed Oi! from somewhere in the background.

“We were playin’ like crap. Everyone could see it—fans, other teams… even us. Felt like it was us against the world.” His gaze flickers to the side, as if embarrassed by his own admission.

You hold your breath, sensing there’s more he wants to say.

“But then someone sent me yer article,” he continues. “At first, I thought, ‘Great, another roast piece.’ But it wasn’t. Ya didn’t tear us apart. Ya saw something in me—”

“In us,” he corrects himself, covering it with a cough.

“It reminded us someone out there was in our corner. That meant somethin’.”

The weight of his words leaves you momentarily speechless. Your hands fly to your mouth as if to contain your shock. “Wow, I had no idea... I’m just... glad I could help in some way.”

“Ya did. More than ya could possibly imagine,” he says simply, his tone carrying a quiet gratitude. “That article reminded us—even when things feel impossible, there’s always a way forward. Whether it’s in football or anything else, progress happens if ya keep trying. Little by little.” He pauses, his eyes meeting yours again.

“Ya told that story.”

Your chest tightens at the honesty in his words. You nod slowly, letting them sink in. “That’s... really... I, uh... That's means a lot, Hiori.”

He shrugs lightly, a small smile playing on his lips as if to downplay the moment. “It’s just how I try to see things.”

A playful glint returns to his eyes as he adds, “Plus, without it, I guess we wouldn’t be here. On this date. Together.”

His sincerity catches you off guard, leaving a warmth blooming in your chest.

Being a journalist has always felt like existing in a strange limbo.

You’re a faceless name, sending your thoughts out into a void, never quite knowing if your words resonate with anyone—or if they even make a difference. It was that wishful thinking, that quiet hope of connection, that drove you to pursue this career despite the doubts you faced years ago.

Hearing Hiori’s words now, realizing that your article didn’t just touch lives but changed them—his team’s and his—fills you with a sense of pride and fulfillment that you rarely allow yourself to feel. It might seem small to others, but to you, it’s everything.

Your gaze drifts to him, gratitude softening your features. His earlier touch still lingers on your fingertips, a faint reminder of the unspoken connection building between you.

I wonder if this is what it feels like... to be in the right place at the right time. To have something just... click.

You clear your throat, shaking the cards in your hand. Loosening up by rolling your shoulders and stretching your arms, a big smile betrays your nonchalance over what you’ve heard.

“Okay, moving on! These are fan questions—filtered and curated, of course.”

Hiori raises an eyebrow. “Curated, huh?”

You shuffle the cards with a sheepish grin and glance at the first one. Without thinking, you read it aloud:

“Hiori, your hands look really nice. Are they soft like how they look in camera?”

Hiori chuckles, holding up his hands as if presenting evidence. “Guess I gotta ask ya.”

“Wha—?!” Your jaw drops. “Me?”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Ya’ve shaken hands with me before, haventcha? So, what’s the verdict? Are they soft?”

You laugh nervously, feeling your face heat up. “I—I am not answering that!”

“C’mon, just settle it.” Hiori laughs, holding his hands out toward you.

Hesitant but unable to resist, you gingerly take his left hand and give it a light squeeze. Your fingers trace his palm as you try to compose your thoughts.

“They’re… huh… I’m surprised. They look soft, but they’re a little rough. Probably because of football, but—”

You stop mid-sentence as Hiori’s playful smile grows wider. Realizing he’s enjoying hearing your thoughts, you let out a dramatic sigh and turn toward the camera.

“They’re soft,” you say flatly, rolling your eyes for effect.

You quickly pick up the next card, only to have your eyes widen in shock. A nervous laugh escapes you as you read it silently, trying to decide whether to skip it.

“Oh, wow. This one’s… bold,” you mutter, clearing your throat.

Finally, you muster the courage to read it out loud: “Bet Hiori is a dom.”

Your voice drops to a whisper by the end, and you dart a glance at Hiori. His expression is a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Do I… do we really have to answer this?” you ask, waving the card toward the marketing manager watching from the sidelines.

Hiori chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting into a teasing smile. “Ya already said it out loud. Too late to back out now.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I regret everything.”

Leaning closer, his voice drops to a playful murmur. “Whatcha think?”

Your head snaps up, and you feel your cheeks go impossibly hotter. “I—I am not answering that!” you stammer defensively.

Hiori leans back, feigning innocence, though his grin betrays him. “Suspicious. Very suspicious.”

Despite your flustered state, you blurt out, “Okay, fine! I guess you are a dom. An ultra sadist.” You pause for a second, biting your lip, wondering if you’ve said too much.

Did I really just say that out loud?

You can feel the heat rush to your face, but there's no going back now.

Hiori, caught mid-sip of his soda, chokes in surprise, coughing violently as he grabs for a tissue. You burst into laughter, hurriedly handing him more while apologizing between giggles.

“Sorry! Isagi told me to say it!” You point accusingly off-camera.

Hiori turns to see Isagi standing next to the monitor, a whiteboard in hand with Hiori = Ultra Sadist scrawled across it in big, bold letters. Behind him, Kurona, Raichi, and Igarashi are doubled over in laughter. Isagi gives an awkward thumbs-up, his boyish grin only making Hiori groan.

“M'going to have a long talk with him later,” he mutters under his breath, earning another round of laughter from you.

Eager to change the subject, you grab the next card, a smile lingering as you read aloud. “Ohh... This one’s fun... ‘Hiori Yo could read the phonebook to me, and I’d still swoon.’”

Tilting your head thoughtfully, you glance at him. “Now I kind of want to test that. Can you actually make a phonebook sound swoon-worthy?”

Hiori pauses in thought and sets his drink aside. His voice dips into a smooth, velvety tone as he says, “Tourist Information Center: 03-3201-3331. For general tourism inquiries, open from 9 AM to 5 PM.”

A small Oooooh escapes your lips. “That was way too good. Are you sure this isn’t your secret side hustle?” .

He chuckles, gaze soft but playful. “Think I should start a hotline? Late-night calls... reading lists... ASMR…” He pauses, his eyes flicking toward you with a teasing glint. “Or maybe something... more exclusive?”

The insinuation isn’t lost on you, and you chuckle, shaking your head. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, hoping the blush isn’t obvious.

“Maybe,” he replies casually in a singsong manner, his smile lingering as he props his face on his hands looking at you.

You take another bite of a chicken nugget, clearing your throat before reading the next card. “Can Hiori teach me football like he taught Y/N? Asking for a friend.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shoot him a playful grin. “Looks like you’re in high demand, Coach Hiori.”

Leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, he grins. “M'flattered, but I might already have a favorite student.”

Caught off guard, you blink. “Wait, me?”

His smirk widens as he nods. “Who else?”

You feel heat rise to your face but brush it off quickly. Flipping to the next card, you snort as you read aloud, “Hiori Yo x Miss Journalist content is my new religion. Bless Bastard München’s marketing team.”

You groan dramatically. “Bless them? I think they’re trying to embarrass me!”

Hiori only shrugs, “Or maybe they’re just helping us make memories.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Of course I am,”

Letting out a small laugh, you glance at the next card. “Okay, here’s another one. Do you guys realize how much chemistry you have?”

Hiori’s lips curl into a faint smile as he looks at you. “Chemistry, huh? Whatcha think?”

Flustered, you glance away, focusing on the cards as if they’re the most fascinating thing in the world. “That’s not for me to say! I’m just reading the questions.”

“But yer the expert, aintcha?” Hiori leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Observing players, analyzing dynamics…”

You hesitate, heart fluttering at his unexpected intensity.

For a moment, you can’t help but notice how earnest he looks behind his boyish smile. His eyes are warm, his posture leaning in slightly as though waiting for your answer—and it makes the air between you feel charged.

“Well,” you say carefully, your voice quieter now, “I do think we have chemistry. I mean, we wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t vibe, right?”

Grinning, you pick up the last nugget and offer it to him. His gaze follows your hand closely, and as he leans forward to take a bite, you forget just how tall he is and how he's able to reach you immediately,

The proximity catches you off guard, and his lips brush against your fingertips lightly. The brief contact sends a shiver through you, a subtle spark that lingers long after.

His smile widens, an innocent taunt in his expression, but there’s a flicker of something deeper beneath his teasing eyes.

For a moment, everything else fades into background.

Who knew he had such game?

But you don’t falter. Without breaking eye contact, you pop the rest into your mouth, making an exaggerated show of it. His eyes widen slightly, but that satisfied grin never leaves his face, his gaze still lingering on you as if the playful moment hadn’t quite ended.

“Y’know,” he says, settling back. “I almost didn’t do this. Not really a fan of the camera.”

“What made you reconsider?” you ask curiously, your tone light but intrigued.

“It’s work. I might get fired if I don’t do this occasionally, I guess,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck, clearly searching for a better excuse.

A loud snort from the sidelines catches your attention.

“That's bullshit! Hiori immediately said yes when they told him it’s a date with you!” Isagi’s voice cuts through the room, and he doubles over in laughter, clutching his stomach.

Behind him, Kurona and Raichi join in, while Ness and Kiyora peek from the hallway, clearly eavesdropping.

Hiori groans, muttering something about refusing to pass to Isagi in the next game unless he begs for forgiveness.

You smile, shaking your head at the chaos. 

A tap on your shoulder brings you back to the task at hand. The cameraman hands over a few more cards. With a glance at the marketing manager, who gestures for you to continue, you smile and read the next one aloud.

“I will riot if Hiori and Y/N don’t end up together. The ship has sailed whether they like it or not!”

You glance at Hiori with a mischievous smile. The urge to take your teasing to the next level is strong. You wanted to see how far this charade can go. Even if it's just for your own satisfaction.

“Wow, people are so invested. I feel responsible. How do we make sure this ship doesn’t sink?”

Hiori leans forward, his expression mock-serious, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Well, for starters, I think communication is key. Every ship needs a good captain and crew who trust each other.”

He pauses for effect, looking at you pointedly. “Think ya can handle being co-captain?”

Feigning deep thought, you tap your chin. “Hmm, I don’t know. Co-captains have to work really closely together, and I’m not sure if you’re up to my standards.”

A playful gasp escapes him. “Not up to yer standards? I’ll have ya know I’m an excellent team player. Just ask Isagi.”

You both turn to Isagi, who’s still recovering from his earlier fit of laughter. He straightens up, grinning. “Oh, absolutely. Hiori’s great—when he’s not plotting how to leave me stranded on the field.”

“Not helping, Isagi,” Hiori mutters, though his smile doesn’t falter.

The playful tension draws a chorus of cheers and mock whistles from the team. Isagi cups his hands around his mouth, yelling, “Let’s gooo, ship of the year!”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the smile spreading across your face as you glance at Hiori. “Looks like the crew is on board.”

Hiori chuckles, leaning back with a satisfied grin that hints at something deeper. “Then it’s settled. This ship is unsinkable.”

“You’re not allowed to say that!” you exclaim, laughing. “That’s a total jinx!”

The room fills with laughter again, the easy energy between the two of you now impossible to miss. The air feels lighter, but there’s an undeniable current that flows between you, unspoken but clearly present.

With every word, every glance, it feels like you’re navigating uncharted waters together—one small step closer to the edge, yet never quite willing to jump in.

“Miss Journalist, we’ve been friends for a while now, right?” Hiori's eyes narrowing with a suspicious gleam. He’s planning something.

“Yes?” you answer, bracing yourself for whatever comes next.

He leans forward, the innocent yet sly smile never leaving his face. “So, you don’t mind me asking—who’s your favorite player on Bastard Munchen?”

You roll your eyes but keep your playful tone, already ready to play along. “That’s a tough one, but I guess... I’d have to say... Gagamaru?”

“Really? Gagamaru?” Hiori laughs, a teasing edge to his voice. “No offense, Gagamaru.”

You shrug with a mischievous grin, trying to keep up the act. 

“That’s not what other people are telling me, though.” Hiori’s eyes twinkle with something unreadable as he pulls out his phone and swipes through it, then shows you the Winstagram picture of you wearing his jersey. 

Oh, dear lord.

You groan inwardly, but there’s no escaping it now. 

“Fine! You’re... up there,” you admit, laughing but feeling the blush creeping in. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, you continue, “But I’m sure the other guys won’t be too happy to hear that.”

Hiori’s grin widens, clearly enjoying himself. “S'okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

Before you can say anything more, Isagi shuffles over with a mischievous grin and hands Hiori a card. Hiori glances at it, his brow raising slightly before that sly smile stretches across his face. 

Holding it up, he reads aloud. “Okay, last card! Due to popular demand, we dare Hiori to ask the journalist out on camera.”

Your jaw practically hits the floor. “Popular demand? Who’s making these demands?”

Hiori doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans towards you, a playful smile on his lips, his gaze locked on you. “Should I?”

You try to laugh it off, waving your hands in mock protest. “You don’t have to entertain everything they write, you know!”

But his gaze never falters. In fact, it softens, turning a little more serious, as if he’s letting a moment of sincerity break through the playful tension. “Yeah, but... what if I want to?”

Your heart skips a beat. “W-wait,” you stammer, feeling your composure slip. “Are you serious?”

Hiori tries to close the distance a bit further, the air between you both growing warmer. “Dinner. Just us. No cameras. Whatcha think?”

You blink, entirely thrown off course, and quickly turn to the crew, desperately waving the cards in mock surrender. “C-can we cut this part out? Please?”

From off-screen, the marketing manager’s voice rings out in amusement. “Nope! This is gold—we’re keeping it.”

Groaning, you bury your face in your hands, a mix of embarrassment and disbelief filling you. “Why am I even here?” you mutter, half-laughing, half-horrified.

As the crew starts to wrap up, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The shoot has been a whirlwind of chaos and laughter—nothing like you expected. But in the midst of all the teasing and jokes, there have been moments.

Small, fleeting moments where the façade of “content shoot” cracks just enough to reveal something real. Something that makes your heart race.

And it scares you. Because as much as you’ve enjoyed... whatever this is, there’s that nagging thought at the back of your mind. This wasn’t part of the plan.

It wasn’t supposed to feel so... real.

For Hiori, it’s equally disarming. At first, this shoot was just another day on the job. But now, as he watches you—how you smile when you try to deflect a question, the way you talk about your work with such genuine passion, how you handle the “shipping” comments with a perfect blend of humor and grace—it hits him.

He’s drawn to you.

It’s not just the playful banter or the way you make him laugh. It’s the way you see things differently, the way you carry yourself with this unexpected blend of wit and intelligence, and how you’re not fazed by the chaos around you.

When you laugh, it’s not forced; it’s real. When you talk about your work, it’s not some canned response. It’s something you actually care about. He’s seen people like you before, but not like this. Not in a way that makes him feel this... interested.

There’s something about the way you navigate the awkward moments, how you’re not afraid to call him out or laugh at his expense, that makes him want to know more. It’s as if, for the first time in a long time, someone has seen beyond his persona—beyond Hiori Yo the athlete—and into the person he is.

And he likes what he sees.

As you gather your things, Hiori stands, his movements unhurried but deliberate, as if the moment has only just begun. The air between you both feels different now—lighter, yet somehow more significant.

For the first time in a long while, he feels like he’s in control, but also... a little unsure. And that feeling, surprisingly, excites him.

“So,” he says, his voice casual but his gaze never wavering from yours, “about that dinner...”

You look up at him, still flustered, but a faint smile creeping onto your lips. You try to deflect, make it sound casual. “You’re really not letting this go, are you?”

But his eyes are different now—softer, more sincere. “Not a chance.”

And in that moment, you see it. You see the shift in him, in the way he looks at you now—not as another journalist, but as someone he genuinely wants to know beyond the surface.

For a second, you can’t find the words. All you can do is laugh softly, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips as you shake your head.

He’s not asking because of a dare or because of a camera. It’s something real, something unspoken but undeniable. And for the first time today, you let yourself stop overthinking. You let yourself just feel the moment.

“Sure, why not?”

Maybe, just maybe, letting your guard down isn’t such a terrible idea after all.

amari's notes: i was kicking, giggling and smiling alone like crazy writing this! I really think these two have a great balance—neither too shy nor too teasing, just kind of testing the waters and seeing where things go. I’m here for it! If you’re up for it, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[kr-starz]

Actually never gonna stop thinking about the cut out scene where Jinx and Ekko where they’re fucking painting on each other and then Ekko tells Jinx about the alt universe,

Like I genuinely can’t stop thinking about who marked who first, this was probably Jinx deciding that everything on that air ship needed some decoration, and that included her and Ekko.

Just imagining how Jinx probably marked Ekko first with her blue and Ekko retaliated, turning into a whole thing, just imagining the brush trailing down to her waist and she’s never been ticklish but it feels stupid to let someone get so close to her, but he’s so enamored with getting the strokes of paint right; he doesn’t look anything more than an artist fawning over the blank canvas he could create just about anything with.

Holy shit the fact Ekko’s wearing a crop 😞😞

The X’s on their chest were definitely them js marking their territory im so sorry, they really wanted to show people that they were together, either in a partner in crime, or friendship or romantic sense they wanted to show that they had the other in one way or another and I can just imagine the little details. Jinx smearing an X on Ekko’s chest, and he draws out a big X on her chest in return. They giggle, and the paint gets smudged. But that’s just all the more color.

I also can imagine just how the marking each other in the other’s colors would go, Ekko would talk about how even if she doesn’t think she is, she’s one of Ekko’s people now, which means he has to do everything to protect her; and they both kind if just settle into the fact that they’re something worth fighting for, their community and what the other stands for is worth fighting for. Ekko smears his signature green on her, and he says it’s to show that she’s just as much as his as he is her partner in this getaway.

Not to mention Ekko pierces his ears, after Ekko manages to slide in how he knew Jinx in another universe, a girl who was happy and content with what she had, she was beautiful and smart, and kind. And she wasn’t any more Powder, or Jinx than the girl in front of him right then an there.

And then the conversation shifts, after Jinx probably realizes that she’s capable of being kind, she had Isha, she knows how kind and caring she can be. He might mention how they were together in that universe, how so beautiful it was to simply love something. And Jinx probably grins, asking why in the world would she be with him. And he snickers, shaking his head not knowing why either, but he goes on to mention the little details like the way his ears are pierced, the way his hair was done differently, the way he was an inventor.

Jinx pops her head up, leaning in close and Ekko feels his breath leave his lungs. She says that he would look good with piercings. He tilts his head, asks if she’s just trying to flatter him. She’s not one to give compliments so she grins and tells him if she was trying to flatter him she’d already have him at that point. They both chuckle, and Jinx mentions how she could pierce his ears for him. Nervous, Ekko isn’t sure if that’s the safest option, yet he nods anyway.

He squirms like a little kid getting a shot, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels a pinch on his left, then another on his right, and before he knew it, there were pretty gems on both his ears. Jinx cheers, asking if he likes it, leaning on the back of the chair he’s sitting in, her grinning face peeking in through Ekko’s reflection and he feels himself smiling. He loves it.

[buddies-bitch]

Dating Evan Buckley Headcannons💕

Mostly SFW but a couple of NSFW

SFW

He gets jump-scared easily so you love to scare him

Like those compilations of people constantly scaring their spouses is totally something you would do

Whether that be yelling when he comes around a corner or hiding underneath the bed to grab his ankle. And it never fails to make you laugh until you pee

He’s so dramatic it’s insane

Like flopping onto every available surface like a faintly Victorian woman with that cute little pout of his

Puppy dog eyes GALORE

He will try and guilt you into things (like wanting to do something for you without your involvement so you can relax) with those goddamn eyes and fuck if it doesn’t work every. single. time.

He loves having you in the kitchen while he’s cooking/baking-as long as you’re not in his way

Luckily for him you’re much more content to just sit on the counter and watch him cook. Inbetween tasks dragging him between your legs for a quick smooch

He gets you tattoo pens so you can straddle his waist while he lays down and draw him new tattoos, usually incorporating his lightning scars-kissing all the while

He loves looking up at your focussed face and loves the feeling of being beneath you. He also loves the feel of your hands on him no matter what you're doing. 3/4 of the time this leads to sex

Occasionally you’ll do his makeup (you’ll always do his skincare) and you always make sure to accentuate his birthmark

The first time you did, all you had was a glittery pink and when you showed him, he hugged you and cried-no one had ever seen him before the way you did

You love finding new nicknames to call him or ways to hit on him that make him blush and stutter

You greeted him one time with a small “hi gorgeous” and he stuttered so bad he just walked away

“Gorgeous”, “baby boy”, “sweet boy”, “stunning”, “sweetheart/ness”, “blue eyed wonder”, “firehose”, “pumpkin”, “honey” literally anything and everything, progressively getting more wild at times just to make him laugh and blush

Buck absolutely has some kind of slutty thigh tattoo (I have nothing else to add to this but I feel like I should share)

He finds it strangely endearing at the amount of time/effort you put into doing physical therapy for his leg, even years after the accident

Plus, always making sure to put sunscreen on him as well as ointment for his scars because you know he’ll forget

Doing hair masks and getting new products for him to protect/define his curls

He's such a cuddle bug it can get annoying on hotter nights but you love him too much to move him

He doesn't mind being big spoon or little spoon but most of the time he pretty much just lays on top of you, having thrown himself over you haphazardly as if to protect you in his sleep

He loves it when he reads to you because you'll play with his hair till you fall asleep, AND he gets to yap to his favorite person.

Because he has adhd, when he reads to you he’ll get distracted and go off topic at some point and just winds up becoming a personal podcast

NSFW

PRAISE KINK

He’s such a vocal bitch

Moaning and groaning constantly, he loves to let you hear him

When drawing on him turns into sex, he LOVES to mark your body with hickeys the way you marked his with ink

He is such a muncher

Like actually drowning himself in your cunt ‘cause he refuses to come up before you come til you physically can't anymore

He likes to tease you until you're begging him to fuck you

He LOVES when you scratch your nails through his hair, especially when you pull it harder the closer you get to coming

He takes SO much pride in the scratch marks up and down his back

^hickeys too, much to your embarrassment sometimes

Anytime you wear lingerie, it gets torn to shreds. But its ok because Buck will happily buy you a new pair so long as he gets to do it again

Buck is absolutely a power bottom. He loves to be in charge but he also loves you on top of him

[mullermilkshake]

Heeey, I few days ago i found your blog and I'm absolutely obsessed with your Yakuza!AU, and I was wondering if we can get more of Yakuza Suguru <3

Love your posts btw💞

Thanks so much!!! That's so kind of you to say, I'm literally so obsessed with the AU and there will be TONS of content to come over the next year.

I love Yakuza!Suguru so much it hurts XD

Enjoy some fluffy stuff <3

A gold band

Yakuza!Suguru x Wife!reader Tags: Yakuza AU, Wife reader, Fem reader, twin children, daughters, fluff, guilt, established relationship.

Suguru fiddled with the gold wedding band on his ring finger as the car pulled up to the house outside of Shinkuju. He was running far more than late than he anticipated, by now he was sure the girls were tucked into bed and you were waiting up for him fuming for missing dinner.

How on earth was he going to make up for this?

"Anything else you need before I go, sir?"

"No, that'll be all for tonight Miguel. Be sure to pick me up in the morning to visit the Nanami office though, you know how he likes punctuality."

Suguru opened the car door by himself and slipped out, eyeing the dingy night sky behind a torrent of dark stormed clouds just waiting to unleash its pressure over Tokyo.

Miguel leaned over and wound the window down. "Of course, should I bring breakfast?"

"No, I think I'll have breakfast with my girls in the morning, so just get what you want and head over after. Thanks for everything tonight."

"Sure thing, goodnight."

As the car drove away, Suguru drew in an anxious breath and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. By the time on his watch he had neglected to read on purpose as it would only make things worse, the time read way past the appropriate time to eat.

The depressive point being that by now, Suguru wasn't even hungry any more.

She's going to kill me for this, isn't she? Maybe. But that wouldn't be all that bad, because then he wouldn't have to deal with all this drama currently within the Ryomen clan to his name.

It couldn't be so bad to have his neck squeezed he supposed.

When he approached the front door, it was already unlocked. That wasn't ever a good sign. The lights were off besides the low table lamp in the living area, amber in the corner with warmth, and there you were sitting on the sofa with Mimiko and Nanako resting their sleeping heads on your lap.

"They wanted to wait for you to get back. Nanako threw an absolute fit because you weren't there to read them a story, so I compromised that they could wait."

"I'm sorry, dear. I never intended to be this late."

He knelt down in front of you and took your hand, feeling the same gold band on the same finger. Your body warmed it through, practically burning away at his guilt for leaving you sitting there in an empty room for dinner.

"It's alright, Miguel is quite the charmer when he wants to be," your smile was devious, more likely enough to show that Suguru wasn't in the dog house.

Thank goodness.

"I bet he can, I told him as much to tell you in person that I would be late. I'm counting on that he got his fill of dinner while he was here?"

You nodded slowly, watching the girls sleep. "He spent a little time with he girls before he was called away to the club."

The club was something he didn't need reminding of. The break in, the calculated theft and all round fuckery with Ryomen Sukuna's expectations.

Not tonight.

"So he was fooling around when he should have been working? I'll have him reprimanded immediately."

You stifled your laughter at his sarcasm, pressing your finger to his lips. "Leave the poor man alone."

The fact was Miguel loved the girls. Mimiko and Nanako adored him just as much and by this point in Suguru's life, Miguel was far more than just a fellow Yakuza.

He was true family.

"Daddy?" Nanako rubbed her little eyes and yawed, shifting her head from your lap to sit up and dangle her legs over the edge of the sofa.

"Hello Princess," He opened out his arms and pulled her into an embrace as she leant forward into him. "I heard you gave Mama a hard time when you had to sleep."

Her sleepy little head drooped suddenly as she fought to stay awake. "You were far away... and you promised to read us our book."

"I did, didn't I? I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

"So I ate your cake."

"My cake?"

Scooping Mimiko up who was long since passed out in her heavy dreamed sleep, you watched Suguru stand with such a nurturing smile. "I made cheesecake. The girls demolished it and almost nipped Miguels fingers off. He was lucky to even get a slice."

"I missed cheesecake?"

He missed your matcha cheesecake for that travesty at the club? Your special cheesecake that was his absolute favourite?

Nanako stretched sleepily and clung to his neck. "Uh huh..."

Maybe it was time for Suguru to leave his Yakuza life behind and just beg you to open up a sweet shop so he could taste your baking every day. It was a hell of a lot safer. Though one shop wouldn't pay for this house or the best of everything for his girls.

A pipe dream was better than nothing.

Suguru led the way to the stairs and took each step with you following close behind him. "How about this then? I'll make sure I'm home really early tomorrow and we'll go to the children's park."

"I love the park..." Mimiko's eyes rolled open, she clutched her little doll and snuggled into the crook of your neck.

"I know you do sweetheart, if you two sleep well then maybe you can do that with Daddy tomorrow. But only if you both go back to sleep and be good," you nuzzled back into her and brought your lips to her hair for sweet consecutive pecks.

"We are good... Mama," Nanako's words began to slur.

And by the time you and Suguru reached the girls bedroom, they were out in dreamland once more. They clung to their blankets and toys sprawled across their covers and balled up close with delicate snores and breaths.

Suguru could have watched them all night snoozing away innocently, totally unaware of the horrors and disgusting shit out in the Shinjuku district.

All the unspeakable things their own Father had done.

"Don't do that."

"Hmm?" Suguru turned to see you leaving the bedroom.

"That thing you do when you feel guilty about what you do for a living. Whenever the time comes and they find out, they'll still love you. Just like I do."

"I know you do, just like you always have. I just can't help but wonder what we'll be like in fifteen years."

Will the Yakuza still be the height it had been for the last decade, or would it shift completely? Suguru had two twin girls to think about.

That wasn't to say he didn't enjoy his lifestyle. He did. He grew up alongside his sworn brother and became a man in a way that was respectful. He evolved with you right there next to him.

Still, this wasn't the life he wanted for his girls.

And it was obvious to him that you knew that too. "We'll still be a family, Suguru. That's all that matters, right?"

He only nodded and closed the gap between you to hold you close to him. "I'm sorry I was late, Dear. You and the girls are what matter most to me."

"I know, and there's still some of the night left," you pulled away just a fraction to look up at him. "I managed to sneak a slice of cheesecake away from the girls when they weren't looking."

"You know the way to my heart, don't you?"

"That's one way to your heart for sure. I just so happen to know to you like the back of my hand."

Suguru leant in and pressed his lips to yours, so short and sweet it would have melted the very foundations of the house. "I can't deny that. You're best at reading me like a book when no one else can."

"Besides Satoru I suppose."

You often joked that Satoru was a third member in this marriage. Just the thought made Suguru hide his chuckle into your shoulder as he leant down.

"Yeah, Besides Satoru."

On a night like this, Suguru knew that whatever happened, things would be alright.

Because he had his family.

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: Dawn. Dawn: I know. Atlas: You crossed so many lines. Dawn: I know, okay? I know.

Atlas: Why didn’t you come to me? We could’ve talked it through before you did anything. Dawn: I… I didn’t think you’d understand. Atlas: That’s fair. I’m not sure I do. Dawn: Exactly.

Atlas: So, help me understand then. Explain it to me. Dawn: [sighs] Getting married and having a baby… it brought up a lot of feelings I wasn’t prepared for. Atlas: What kind of feelings?

Dawn: Feelings about mom. I hated that she wasn’t there, that she wouldn’t want to be, that she doesn’t even know she has a granddaughter and probably never will. I was sad and I was angry, and some days I even missed her which really caught me off guard. I started to wish that she was there, that she’d realize the ways she failed us and show up wanting to make amends.

Atlas: Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Dawn: [shrugs] I didn’t want to admit it, kept telling myself that I was being silly, that I should stop clinging to this idea of a mother that I’ll never have.   Atlas: What about Megan? I know she’s not your mom, but she loves you and she stepped in to help.

Dawn: I know. And I’m so grateful, I really am, but I couldn’t appreciate it at the time. Her being there almost made it more obvious what I was lacking, like it was being shoved in my face. This is going to sound so childish, but I didn’t want those things with her, I wanted them with my own mom, and I hated that I couldn’t have that. I became resentful, and then I felt guilty for not appreciating her.

Atlas: I had no idea.

Dawn: That’s because I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want anyone to. I thought if I told anyone, they’d think I was awful, so I kept it to myself, and it ate me up. And when Phoenix got that letter from his dad, it was like everything I wanted was being handed to him, and he wanted to just throw it away. I couldn’t let it go, and I let all that shit I’d been carrying cloud my judgement.

Atlas: Talk about shit timing. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.

Dawn: Yeah. It was not my finest hour. Atlas: So, how are things now?

Dawn: They’re good. Phoenix spent a few days in Chestnut Ridge, got to meet his brother and talk things out with his dad. It was a struggle at first, but things are going well. He’s decided to give his dad a chance. He says it’s for Danny, because he wants to stay in touch with him, but I think it’s more than that.

Atlas: And you? How are you doing with everything? Dawn: Better. Li referred me to a therapist. I’ve only had one session so far, but I think it will be good for me. Atlas: That’s great. Li sounds like a good friend. Dawn: She is. I’m really glad I met her.

Dawn: So, what about you? You’re married now! Atlas: I know. Who would’ve thought? Dawn: Oh please. I always knew you two would get there eventually. Can’t say I’m not disappointed I didn’t get to be there for it, though. Atlas: I know, but we had to do it our way. And I’m really happy. Dawn: And I’m really happy for you. How is he doing, by the way?

Atlas: I don’t know. He’s struggling a bit. Hasn’t really been himself since we got home. Dawn: Losing Japer really hit him hard, didn’t it? Atlas: Yeah, it did. But I feel like there’s something more going on. Dawn: Like what?

Atlas: I’m not sure, but he’ll talk to me when he’s ready. He always does. Dawn: Ough, I wish I had your patience.

[re4rlyr4e]

‘Adore me, hold me and explore me’

Daisuke x Fem! Black! Anya’s intern! Reader

⚠️Warning!⚠️ : this has smut in it but I won’t say mdni because I am minor too

You were Anya’s intern. Helping her in every way you could! You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for people quickly so when you got on the tulpar you weren’t expecting much. It was just an internship….right? Wrong. The other intern on the ship, the mechanical intern…you knew him, but didn’t know from where. So, you were going to ask his name. There was no way he was who you thought he was. “Excuse me? Sir?” You tapped his shoulder and looked up at him playing with your braid “oh hey! Reader, long time no see, I’m kidding it’s been like 4 months, how are ya?” He asked, IT WAS HIM, your high school crush Daisuke was really on this ship with you, for the 382 days you would be in the same ship as him. That was a dream come true.you couldn’t wait to see what would happen!

It had been 3 months on the ship, everything was going great! You were talking to Swansea about Daisuke because you didn’t want to wake him up yet so you were waiting for him to wake up “sooooo Swansea, how’s I been working with Daisuke” you questioned wanting to know if he was a sweet as you remembered “good if he would shut up about you, he won’t stop taking about ‘how pretty you are’ or whatever” he replied. You would have been bright red if it were visible. You felt something you hadn’t felt since you had math right next to Daisuke, who would ‘accidentally’ grab your thigh mid class. That’s when you felt a pair of warm hands on your hips, Daisuke had come from behind you and hugged you “what are we talking about?” He asked with his usual smirk, go that smirk made you wet….Wait what? Was he making you horny on purpose?! It’s fine, but god damnit you wanted him to make you Juno, isn’t that a song? Whatever you didn’t want to think of anything other than Daisuke “nothing Daisu…” you giggled while playing with your braids. For once you wanted to get them messed up, as long it was because of him. You wanted him so bad… wait…you felt something on your back…..were you crazy? " daisu can we talk for a second.... outside?" you asked him like he was being demanded, did guys like that as much as some girls did? you didn't know but the question couldn't wait. "Daisuke do i make you hard or something?" you asked up front and strong, you knew he would probably deny it and be all rude about you even asking about tha- "yea. you kind of do..." in any other instance you would have blushed like crazy. But you were horny so you did something you would normally never do. You kissed him..hard. In the middle of the hallway and he pulled you into a nearby room. “Daisu….i need you” your reached to try and take off his shirt but he stopped you. “Wait…how long have you been waiting to do this?” he giggled with that stupid smirk, you loved it but it was still stupid . “a while now fuck me or I’ll do something stupid” you kissed him again you could feel how hard he was through his stupid pants, you just wanted them gone at this point. He started kissing down your body, he was trying to make sure that this was perfect for you, even if you were in a closet. He was playing with your ass as he kissed you, he wanted you badly “take your pants off” you demanded him. You wanted him to be rough but you wanted a little control “what?” “Take them off” “that’s so hot” that’s the last thing you heard before you felt him…he wasn’t being gentle at all ”fuck baby! Right there! YES! FUCK YEA!” you were already on the edge and you both knew it….thats when he pulled out, flipped you over and made you look at his cock, what you did to him. You were so excited you grabbed it and….licked it…was this reality? Were you dreaming? Or were you really giving your crush of 4 years head in a closet…? Yea, and you’d do it again “I want you to knock me up…I like myself and all but two would be better right?” You bent over and let him go at it. As he did so his hands were roaming you, exploring every inch of you. “Fuck I’m so close baby!~ “ at that moment, you both came. Panting and sweating, you were shaking and he was just chuckling and grabbing his pants “come to my room after dinner, we can cuddle and talk about what we are from now on” that was a offer you couldn’t resist, “okay see ya?” You said unsure “yea, I love you” he had said it. He said the L word. “I love you too, Daisuke “

[amazingmsme]

Last night I had an idea for an epic AU that is either really cool or really stupid.

So basically, the gods can be killed. But only with one specific weapon or tool that is special or sacred to them. For example, the Spear of Athena, or Demeter's labrys (a double headed axe for woodcutting). If they are wounded with that weapon, they might as well be mortal. Anything else, they can heal from. But this? Nah.

Which brings me to the next part. So remember how Poseidon is turned into Swiss cheese in 600 Strike? Well, Poseidons weapon, the one that can fatally harm him, is nothing other than his trident. You know, the very trident that Ody used to make him more see-through than cheap toilet paper.

So, I imagine that 600 Strike goes as normal, but Poseidon lives long enough to gasp out the word "please" like he does in the song, and then he just dies. Odysseus is confused as hell. He kinda pokes him with the trident, like "why is he just lying there?" Only to look on, horrified, as the god's body turns into a puddle of seawater and merges with the rest of the ocean.

(Now the fun part) After around 3 seconds Odysseus feels a white hot pain all over his body, before promptly blacking out.

When he comes to, the storm has faded away, and the sea is as calm as a sleeping toddler. He sighs and gets up from the rocks he was laying on, only to realize that everything felt off. Now is he going crazy, or is everything more defined and colorful? And his hearing sounds like it got better as well. And the ground seemed farther away than normal. Had some god blessed him? Was this Poseidon's way of conceding their battle? No, that can't be right. The trident is still lying there. Odysseus reaches to pick it up, and freezes in shock.

His fingers have membranes in between them.

It's only then that he takes a good look at himself. There are patches of scales all over his arms, legs, and torso. He now has fins on his arms and legs, and ears as well. His nails have gone from blunt to long and sharp. Pulling a lock of hair in front of him shows that it's longer than it used to be, with streaks of blue and teal. Catching his reflection in the water shows him that his eyes have changed from brown to a striking aquamarine, and the whites have turned black and, are those fangs?

Something is terribly wrong here. While he is sifting through all of the possible causes in his head, he hears a voice to his right. It's a merman. Why is he calling Odysseus "My lord?" What is going on?

On Olympus, the gods are shocked that one of their own had been killed. Then, as the implications begin to dawn on them, they feel something that a god never feels. Fear. One of the strongest Olympians was killed by a mortal. Could this happen to the rest of them as well.

Back on that rocky patch, Odysseus came to a sudden, chilling realization. He looked at the water around him, and tried to will it to do something, anything. To his surprise, the water began to churn, before turning into violent waves, as the skies darkened again, reflecting the storm in Odysseus's mind.

Ody is no longer Odysseus, King of Ithaca. He is no longer the monster that Poseidon had turned him into. He is now Odysseus, God of the Seas.

It's a little rusty, but I thought it sounded like a cool idea. What do you think? Also sorry for the ramble.

- 🧁 anon

MDJSMSBDD LITERALLY LOSING MY FUCKING MIND OVER THIS OMGGGGG! I LOVE the idea of a god’s weapon being the thing that can kill them! & it adds so much weight to everything Odysseus already did to add killing a god onto that list is bound to have some kind of effect on him!

This is such a cool, interesting concept & I’m eating it up! Love the description of god!ody

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Hi, I was wondering if I could request a fic?

So where I work irl next door is a beauty salon and it's called Doll and Dash and has a comically large digital clock that you can see from the window when you peek in and has a gurney bed type thing I guess that is used for doing lashes. One of the big things is on a sign in the door it says and I quote "for the safety of our dolls we don't take walk ins" I find this salon to be very creepy

Anywho, I was wondering if you could write about a beauty salon that is a front for whumper to actually turn unsuspecting whumpees into real dolls. Including restraints, gags, non con drugs, and all the whumpy dumpy stuff.

Hi Anon! I would absolutely LOVE to write this for you! I hope I did it justice, here you go!

Dolled Up

Whumpee stepped inside the beauty salon. They had made the appointment about a week ago, and they were hoping the session would give them a confidence boost that, according to Caretaker, they sorely needed. As they opened the door, a bell rang and a beauty tech came to greet them.

“Hello hello, welcome to Dolled Up!” the tech said, smiling brightly, “what’s your name?”

“Whumpee,” Whumpee answered, “am I too early?”

“Whumpee, Whumpee…” the tech searched on their tablet, “ah! I see you right here. No, you’re right on time, come back with me please. Whumper is all ready for you.”

Whumpee shyly followed the tech through a door and into what looked like an operating room. Someone else approached them.

“Welcome, Whumpee,” the person said, “my name is Whumper, and I'll be taking care of you. Won't you sit down?”

Whumper gestured to a padded gurney. Whumpee had never been to a beauty salon before, so they supposed this was normal. They approached the gurney and sat down on it.

“So, um, how does this work?” Whumpee asked.

“Oh it's just as the name implies,” Whumper said, snapping on gloves, “can I offer you a drink? It's on the house.”

Whumper held out a glass of some kind of sparkling drink. Whumpee hesitated.

“It’s non-alcoholic, unless you'd prefer that of course,” Whumper giggled.

“Oh, in that case.” Whumpee took the drink and sipped it, “thank you.”

“You're very welcome, my dear.”

Whumper set about taking facial measurements of Whumpee. Whumpee tried to hold still, but they were getting very tired all of a sudden. They found themselves swaying to the side. Whumper slid a hand behind their back and gently lowered them onto the gurney, repositioning their legs so that they were completely laying down.

“There we go,” Whumper said, “now we can actually get started.”

“Wha…wha did you…?”

“Your eyes are stunning, and your hair is gorgeous, as is your complexion. Your attire however… it needs an overhaul. No doll of mine needs to dress like this.”

Whumpee should be panicking, and they were trying to, but whatever they had just drank was keeping them calm and pliant on the gurney.

“Assistant, please get everything ready,” Whumper said.

The beauty tech- if that was even their profession- nodded and locked the door. They went to a closet in the corner while Whumper started to strap Whumpee down to the gurney. Assistant came back with a tray of various materials and instruments.

“S-stop-" Whumpee pleaded feebly.

“Dolls don't talk,” Whumper said, tapping Whumpee's nose.

Assistant held Whumpee's mouth open while Whumper sprayed some kind of adhesive foam inside. It bonded to every surface of their mouth. Assistant then held their mouth closed while Whumper smeared a strong, clear adhesive over their lips.

“Mm! Mm!”

“Shhh,” Whumper said.

They wheeled Whumpee into the next room. It was a giant walk-in closet, filled to the brim with different clothes and accessories.

“Something to match their eyes,” Whumper said to themselves, looking at all the different racks.

They eventually pulled out a beautiful, lacy blue dress with matching Mary Jane shoes and hosiery. They also grabbed some blue ribbons and little lacy gloves. As they did so, Assistant took Whumpee's body measurements.

“That outfit should be a perfect fit,” Assistant said.

“I know it is,” Whumper said, “get them out of those clothes, won't you?”

Assistant nodded, wheeling Whumpee behind a curtain. They produced a body suit that was perfectly matched their skin tone. They removed the straps keeping them in place, then started to change them into the suit. Whumpee tried to resist, and in their drugged haze they also tried to remove the gag, but they were unsuccessful on both counts.

The suit was adhesive on the inside, the fingers were sewn together, and there was just one single zipper on the back that only someone not wearing it could reach.

“Mmm!” Whumpee vainly tried to pull it off, but it was stuck tight.

“There there, pretty doll,” Assistant cooed, cupping Whumpee's cheek.

Whumper came back and fitted the new clothes onto Whumpee. Everything was somehow perfectly tailored to them.

Assistant applied makeup to their face, even going so far as to put lipstick on over the clear adhesive.

“Now, let's get you in your display case,” Whumper said.

Placing them back on the gurney, Assistant and Whumper took Whumpee down an elevator into an enormous basement. There waiting for them was a large box that looked like the ones old china dolls would come in, only this was big enough for a human to fit inside. In addition, the box had several padded cuffs inside.

Whumper lay Whumpee in the box. Whumpee could barely move enough to try and climb out. Assistant started fixing the padded cuffs to their limbs and torso.

“Mmm…” Whumpee protested.

“I think they're ready,” Assistant said.

“I agree. Let's get them packed up.”

The clear lid of the box was sealed shut. Inside the box there could be heard the gentle hum of a vent. It dispensed both oxygen and more of the drug into Whumpee's system. The box was loaded onto a rolling cart and brought into a storage room. Rows and rows of boxes lined the room, each with a very high price tag. Whumpee’s box was set down next to another “doll’s”.

“Don't worry little doll, we'll find the perfect owner for you,” Whumper said.

That was the last thing Whumpee heard before drifting off completely.

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@sorry-i-spaced

[jujus-bizarre-blog]

Some of my favourite Crooked Kingdom quotes :)

So I finished Crooked Kingdom and this post is gonna be a lot less articulate than my last one about the series because...

Who the actual fuck let the last 100 pages of that novel happen???

They were so entertaining but aside from that they had some of the most beautiful sentiments and prose. So I am going to share my favourites from each character's POV in Part Six: Action & Echo :3

Nina: Page 455

"But she hadn't been made for shame."

"Nina had grieved for her loss of power, for the connection she'd felt to the living world. She'd resented this shadow gift. It had seemed like a sham, a punishment. But just as surely as life connected everything, so did death. It was that endless, fast-running river. She'd dipped her fingers into its current, held the eddy of its power in her hand. She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown."

It's such a beautiful sentiment and moment to watch her fully come to love herself again and her new power. I love Nina as a deeply relatable character and this was just so perfect to see her come back to loving and finding herself.

Inej: Page 460

"But what about the rest of us? What about the nobodies and the nothings, the invisible girls? We learn to hold our heads as if we wear crowns. We learn to wring magic from the ordinary. That was how you survived when you weren't chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway."

This gave me chills. Everything about this is utterly gut wrenching and feels incredibly relatable. I reread that line probably 4 times before moving on.

Jesper: Page 471

"It's not a gift. It's a curse. But when it came down to it, Jesper's life had been full of blessings. His father. His mother. Inej. Nina. Matthias leading them across the muddy canal. Kaz--even Kaz, with all his cruelties and failings, had given him a home and a family in the Dregs when Ketterdam might have swallowed him whole. And Wylan. Wylan who had understood before Jesper ever had that the power inside him might be a blessing too."

Jesper realizing that for all the shit luck he has at tables he has been lucky enough to have amazing people in his life. It's just very sweet.

Matthias: Page 483

"Unnatural, said the old, determined voice. Beautiful, said the voice that had spoken the night he'd helped Jesper and Kuwei escape Black Veil. It was newer, less certain, but louder than ever before."

I love this part because it shows just how much Matthias has changed through the two books. It's beautiful and sweet and heartwarming.

Wylan: Page 427

"Wylan summoned every bit of bravado he'd learned from Nina, will he'd learned from Matthias, the focus he'd studied in Kaz, the courage he'd learned from Inej, and the wild, reckless hope he's learned from Jesper, the belief that no matter the odds, somehow they would win."

Okay... I cheated with Wylan's it's from his chapter just before Action & Echo... BUT, I think this sentiment is much more telling than anything in his Part Six chapter. I love this quote because it shows just how much his found family taught him. They're messy, they're brutal, and they're awful, but they are everything to each other. They teach each other, they help, they care, they tease, and that's way more than Wylan ever had at home.

Kaz: Page 480 & 529

"'I also had her stop at the Menagerie.'

She smiled then, her eyes red, her cheeks scattered with some kind of dust. it was a smile he thought he might die to earn again."

"'That's the laugh,' he murmured."

The second quote isn't from his chapter, it's from Inej's final one, but it conveys the same thing as the first quote. It shows what Kaz could have been, that somewhere in there he wants to show Inej can take his armour off, that he is willing to do it for her and I think it's just really gratifying to see.

That all being said chapter 42 was so evil. It had me going from sobbing of joy to sobbing of sorrow and back to joy in the span of 3 paragraphs istg. What the actual fuck Leigh Bardugo???

[tiredassmage]

it is exactly this kind of thought process that makes me subject even my blorbos who i never intended to be in the main character hotseat, let alone alliance commander kind of main character syndrome, to the kotxx electric boogaloo. there's a post or smth that lives rent free in my mind about something to the effect that "not so much blatantly out of character, but what circumstances would lead the character to do x or act in x manner" and smth about if you can find that you can make almost anything believable but it's that first part of the ~wisdom that's really given me a lot to chew on.

i think the only tech class i haven't super spent a lot of time plugging into the commander seat is bounty hunter, but len did make it that far at least once and i'll do it to him again now that i have a better grasp of who he is.

[i have too many blorbos so in the thought of sparing dashboards, let me put a cut]

if i get to die on the hill convincing muts and fellow swtor-ers that agent is actually an epic kind of character to put through the expansions then i'd die happy. it... makes sense to me in a way that idk if i can generally explain it very well and it's... incredibly individualized to what happens to the agent in their class story. tyr fits the role of commander in a way that i think some would still call surprisingly well, but there's the argument that what is 'commander' but another role or mask to play, and especially for someone like tyr who is invested in building his team because the better his team, the better he was able to do his own job, he's... a natural at it, really. and tyr has been the type that's been looking for a kind of change (in his life, in his own circumstances, maybe in the whole galaxy) for so long that regardless of being thrust into the commander's seat or not, he would've found himself in the alliance. a man so driven by his ideals finally getting an escape out of being a ghost in the rather binary system of the galaxy is almost a relief - sans, y'know, the ancient sith emperor bouncing around in his head, but he's dealt with migraines before, so it's another day that ends in y for cipher nine.

his trooper au edition handles it all with... a significantly less amount of grace, to put it nicely, lol. troopertyr was kinda unsteady by everything he endured in the class story era and the early expansions to begin with, and his anchor was his team, to keep things short. being shorn of that support network that helped build so much of his identity and sense of purpose brings out the worse edges of him. he unravels a lot under the pressure, but being in that kind of position, nobody else can afford to stop him and ask if he's okay, which lets him spiral pretty far and get into a series of behaviors that he'll loathe himself for and have to spend several years after the alliance is no longer in his hands (he doesn't want the pressure, and he'll turn down reinstatement to republic special forces even as he hands what remains of the alliance freely over to the republic and sets whoever doesn't want to go loose) trying to unlearn and recover from. arguably, the ex-co of havoc squad should be relatively well-prepared for a role like alliance commander, and that spin through the story really improved my thoughts on trooper and my love for it, but troopertyr i built a very... special kind of cocktail about how he came into special forces and havoc squad where it... wasn't really the best fit for him to be there to begin with, but it was the circumstances he was dealt, so the further pressures found the cracks that had already formed and just drove them deeper.

i have toyed around a little about what it'd do to leo, one of my smugglers - arguably one of the least qualified people to ever have to handle the situation based on his credentials and disposition for handling pressure and decisions, which.... naturally meant i just had to figure out sooner or later what it'd do to him, right? so, for leo, ending up with the whole valkorian problem and trying to wrangle the alliance starts with being in the wrong place at a really bad time, and it preys on his fears about loss. leo's not nearly as good an actor as my agents are - they're trained for those kind of scenarios so they come by it quite naturally in comparison, but at the end of the day, leo finds himself in situations often where he puts on some kind of mask to get through the situation. and he's desperate to protect the few people he cares about. he's a much smaller picture kind of person, rather than the grand overarching picture of the galaxy and its interwoven problems that most of my other characters have. leo making a deal with valkorian is less, initially, about personal power or ruling an empire as it is a don't hurt them. which is easy enough for valkorian - it's not really a lie to say they won't come to harm by his hand when they're barely significant enough for valkorian to notice, right? and not that leo is.... gullible, exactly, but he's... scared in that kind of scenario. scared enough to lose the few people he loved, and astronomically stressed and overwhelmed by the impossible nature of the task set before them, and not particularly a good leader. i think valkorian can manipulate him into spinning taking over zakuul as the kind of... become more powerful so they can't touch you kind of narrative. a bit similarly to what leo thinks of his reputation in the wake of nok drayen's treasure and taking down the voidwolf. no reason to not take advantage of the power and the fame in the ways he can, and double down on keeping the claws at hand gripping desperately to the precarious position it puts him in to have that kind of notoriety, right? it's.... incredibly unideal for him in a lot of ways, and something that could arguably make him worse without a counter from one of his old gang of friends and beloveds to steady his perspective on things. he doesn't become malicious out of ill-intent, exactly, but he... can be driven to lock down and lash out in the interest of self-preservation and protecting the few people he cares for. if he's going to be forced to run this shitshow, he'll.... make it work for them. it has to work... this is what they want, right? right?

and len is... on a superficial, baseline thought it's... it can be as simple as the fact that the man doesn't know how to turn down a challenge. he's bullheaded. and while he's "smart" enough to know in the throne room he can't simply put a blaster bolt through the immortal ex-sith emperor and solve everything so simply, so take his deal, he is also incredibly, belligerently independent and stubborn in a 'this is good advice, but don't tell me what to do' fashion that ends up making him mouthy with valkorian, anyway. and len, thankfully(?), has a background in imperial black ops prior to his career as a bounty hunter that gives him some military training in addition to his several years as a hunter and experience in the great hunt that make him a prepared fighter and, admittedly, a surprisingly decent leader as far as assigning forces. he's not the most emotionally available man there ever was, and as mouthy and belligerent as he's known to be, he also knows tossing his head too much and trying to fight being given the reins on the alliance won't actually achieve any of their goals for anyone. he'll still make comments about it, sure, he's got a reputation to maintain, after all. can't have all these whelps thinking he's gone soft or somethin' on 'em. but he's also nothing if not a man about getting his jobs done, and this is another job. and he fucking hates losing. xD

smushing every class into the Commander role isn't the best decision storywise but asking how your particular character adapts to the role - whether they're unfitting or not - is always very good for the creative cogs