#big “dad you can't just fucking say that” energy.

[sistersofsilver]

apollo you cannot cover your dads fucking out of pocket commentary but bless you for trying

[in-class-daydreams]

Note: Gojo & the reader are ~40 in this, Sen is 18, and the guy you're seeing (if you don't already know who it is) is aged up accordingly (~30)

Imagine your and ex-husband Gojo's son Sen finding out you're seeing someone.

"You're going on a date?!" Sen asks in disbelief. "With who?"

You smooth out your outfit and check yourself out in the mirror. This look is one of your best, if you do say so yourself.

"Does it matter?" you ask neutrally. Sen is just mature enough to not blatantly freak out at this revelation, but only just. The less he knows, the better.

"Of course, it matters! I need to know who to hunt down if you disappear!" he replies, hands flying up to fist in his hair. "I need to vet this guy!"

Your ex-husband appears in your bedroom doorway. "Who are we vetting?"

Clenching your prospective clothing in your hands, you grumble, "Doesn't anyone knock any more?"

Satoru leans against the door frame like he's someone's booktok boyfriend (he used to be your booktok husband but that's beside the point). He takes in how you've cleaned up and instantly recognizes your date look. Of course, he's only seen it a million times.

"Oh, the kid didn't know you had boyfriend?" he asks.

"Boyfriend?!" Sen cries. Your temple throbs. "Who is he?"

Satoru shrugs. "I dunno, I just know he exists and his one move is sending flowers because he's basic."

"He's not basic and he is not my boyfriend!" you shout, throwing your hands in the air. "We go on dates, yes. We're seeing each other. 'Boyfriend' implies exclusivity, and none of the people I'm seeing are my boyfriend."

Your son and ex-husband stare at you wide-eyed. As Sen gets older, the black roots of his hair have become his last line of defense against looking like a carbon copy of his dad, and having both a young and old(er) Satoru look at you with their stupid big blue eyes is unsettling. Someone hurry up and blink.

"What?" you ask tiredly.

This time it's Satoru that has something irritating to say. "'People?' As in plural?"

"Satoru, don't start."

Sen raises his hand. "I'm with dad on this one. I don't trust anyone with you, not even dad--"

"Thanks, kid."

"--much less strangers."

Part of you understands that your son and ex-husband are the two people in the world that love you the most. Growing up as isolated as you did, your younger self would never have imagined having the both of them in your life. They're just trying to protect you.

The other part of you is on the verge of telling them both to step the fuck off.

You're all saved by the doorbell ringing and before you can even react, both of them are at the door interrogating whoever's on your porch. But you always met up with your dates instead of them picking you up in case of this exact scenario. There was no way he came to the door without your permission.

Sprinting to the door, you find your son, your ex, and a terrified-looking deliveryman holding a bouquet of flowers. You shoo the boys away from him and accept the flowers with thanks and a generous tip for dealing with them.

There's a handwritten note attached. It reads:

You didn't think I'd let you walk out the house without a present, right? Pretty girls need pretty flowers.

You can't hold in a grin. He always found ways to go above and beyond even without an official label.

"Well, at least he's a sorcerer," Sen says. He gestures to the note, "There's a teeny bit of residual CE on there. Not enough for me to recognize, though."

You try not to make your sigh of relief obvious. Sen was still in training and Sukuna said his ability to recognize specific cursed energy needed some work. Getting advice from his dad would help, but your son got his stubborn streak from you.

"Well, good. I don't need you tracking him down." Handing the flowers to Sen, you ask, "Put these in a vase for mama, please?"

Sen, ever the obedient son, runs off to do so immediately. You fondly watch him round the corner into the kitchen, then double back to grab you and place a kiss on your cheek.

"I don't like this, but please be safe, mama! Call me any time, I'll be there," he says, then returns to his task.

Once he's out of sight, you slip your shoes on, holding Satoru by the shoulder to stabilize yourself.

"I'll be back before 11. There's pasta in the fridge and I just washed the sheets in the guest room if you want to stay over," you tell him. Pulling up the back of your shoe, you look up at Satoru to find him stock still looking past you. You can't see his eyes, but you can tell they're fixed on the card you received.

That's when you remember that while your son may not yet be at full potential, veteran sorcerer, strongest in history Gojo Satoru knows damn well who sent you those flowers.

Shit.

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[corvidcrossbow]

Daryl's the kinda guy to have a small table in the living room that has the puzzle he's been slowly working on for practically months set out on it – he delicately moves it in front of the couch then sits and silently works on it some evenings, expect for little grunts of understanding when he finally figures out a certain section he was stumped on.

He gets so flustered when you come over to look, standing beside the couch and rubbing his shoulder for a little bit while admiring his work, and he so shyly says a thanks, sheepishly reaching for the next piece while you watch for a little.

He likes to go do it some nights where he can't sleep and feels like he's gonna disturb you by just lying awake next to you in bed, usually when he's having a harder time emotionally – this gives him something to do rather than sulk, even though the thoughts still do get to him while he's working on it sometimes.

Oh god and once he probably went to do that, but Dog came over and had a bit too much energy and knocked the table just enough for everything to slide off and crumble to the floor, ruined.

He just sat there for a moment, looking at the 3d triangular shape his nearly finished puzzle landed in. He didn't even sigh in defeat; he just got up and trekked his way back to your bedroom, gently waking you up by crawling into your arms.

And he buried his head into your neck, breathing you in uneasily and trying to steady himself. But as you rubbed his back and scratched his scalp, asking him what's wrong, he couldn't help but cry a little cause he already felt so negative and now felt sort of crushed, the time and effort he put into that for nothing. It makes him feel stupid; like why is he crying over a damn puzzle? He's a grown man, in a fucking apocalypse. He doesn't have time to cry over something so childish, let alone be doing a puzzle in the first place.

But your soothing helped to wash away his self loathing, tenderly reminding him it's okay to be upset about those kinda things: that it may be small in the perspective of the world, but it meant something to him. He put his time and his effort into it, and that's what made it something big.

That made him cry harder, your confirmation that it's okay to cry, getting that allowance to. His father surely banned crying, even over major things like his moms death, telling him there's no reason for a man to ever cry – and every time he'd beat him he would repeatedly demand he stop crying, until he eventually did: and the only times he ever cried were when he'd escape to be deep in the forest, sit alone and let his walls down for a little before having to put them all back up and face his homelife again, and shamed himself for doing such in the first place.

You're what finally let him express his love for the little things, and express how he felt when bad things happen with said little things.

He definitely didn't have many toys growing up, so he turned to things like puzzles – secretly doing them in his room late at night then shoving them under his bed when he wasn't working on it cause he knew Merle or his dad would make fun of him for it or destroy it – so doing puzzles now heals his inner child, and it getting knocked over hurt him even more cause it brought him back to those memories.

This was not meant to get sad but now I'm tearyeyed at 4:30 am while writing this. He's just tryna mend the kid his childhood broke :(

[batsplat]

Wait what’s the tea on Valentino’s sleep patterns 👀👀 (fellow insomniac / recent motogp fan always looking for more representation)

oh yeah, if you're looking for representation for poor sleeping habits you've very much come to the right place. his sleep patterns are pretty remarkable you have to say. way too nocturnal for a professional athlete, reliant on naps to get through the race weekend, all power to him for somehow making that work and winning all those titles. pretty sure I've read somewhere that he's still known for doing sim races at ungodly hours these days, just how he lives his life

tbh I can't remember off the top of my head where I'd actually read about his sleeping patterns, but I've cobbled together a decent selection of quotes from the usual sources. the most interesting stuff he's said on the topic is in his autobiography - where he goes into rather a lot of detail about his preference for the night. given that it's quite a lengthy passage, I've chucked it under the cut. he frames his nocturnal inclination as not only suiting his natural body clock better, but also as a way of escaping the rest of the world - of being able to move around in peace and silence and anonymity. plus, he liked to spend his nights in the garage to... *pinches bridge of nose* have some special personal time with his bike, when it was just the two of them. take that as you will

before that, let's just start with a few more general descriptions of his sleeping patterns. from early in his career, jerez 1998 (from oxley's vr files):

The camper only holds two people, but that's okay. I don't like my dad to sleep with me, because when it gets to ten o'clock he starts saying: "Vale, Vale, got to bed!", but I can't go to sleep before one or two. We did share a motorhome in '96 and it made life very, very difficult for me.

and about brno 1999 (from oxley's vr files):

On weekends when I'm not racing, I never go to bed before six or seven on Sunday morning. If it's a party, maybe even later, but going to bed at six in the morning is quite normal for me! Even when I was 14 I used to go to bed at 4am. Quite often I'd be riding around the local minimoto tracks until after midnight! If I go to sleep at 11 or 12 I just lie there, my eyes wide open. Maybe I would be good for 24-hour racing!

and then a few years into his premier class career, valentino says the following (x):

'I have a lot of energy after 2am,' Rossi agreed. 'I like to sleep in the morning. I have some problems at the start of the day.'

we've also got a description of crew chief jb's influence in terms of making sure valentino wasn't slacking off by sleeping in (from oxley's vr files):

Burgess' talents aren't restricted to getting the best out of a 500. The Aussie has been in GPs for decades and knows how to extract the best from riders as well. He expects 100 per cent commitment both on the track and in the pits, and when he doesn't get that, he gives 'em hell. Some other crew chiefs won't do that - they're too overawed by their riders' superstardom. JB laid down the law last summer when late-sleeper Rossi turned up late for practice. Rossi suggested that in future one of the crew should be despatched to his motorhome each morning to make sure he was out of bed. No way, said Burgess, I'll be there to give you your wake-up call. Rossi's not overslept since.

and from 2001, in valentino's own words:

Q: Tell us about your sleeping habits, JB has had to wake you a few times for practice... VR: I never go to bed before 1 o'clock, and there's no limit on when I go to bed, but even when I go to sleep very late I always wake up at 8.30, though when I do wake up I always have a big confusion for the first five minutes, then after that I remember: "Oh fuck, I'm at world grand prix!" So I have a shower and then I'm okay. I never get up too close to riding time because the 500 is a dangerous bike so it's necessary to be awake when you climb aboard. Back in the afternoon after practice at four or five o'clock I'll sleep for another hour.

only semi-related but valentino's also talked about... you know, this generational shift - where the sport has become more professionalised, which is reflected in certain lifestyle changes (from barker's rossi biography):

"The next generation is always stronger. They are more professional, they put more effort in, they make a perfect life, they eat in a good way, they don't drink, they go to sleep early, they train every day from the morning to the night... I come from an era where the riders drank beer and smoked cigarettes!"

also plenty of talk of jet lag obviously... doesn't struggle with it too much headed westwards because he says he basically lives on american time anyway. the other direction is tougher, but in his youth he decided that he might as well try to continue living on italian time. so he essentially went racing at 5 in the morning (about phillip island 1998, from oxley's vr files):

I don't have a problem with jet lag, I always sleep. Last year in Indonesia I stayed on Italian time for the whole grand prix - so I was racing at five in the morning! But the difference is too great to do that in Australia.

how on earth are you racing motorcycles like that. mind you, he won that 1997 indonesia race

so yeah. king of disordered sleeping. given the nature of motogp schedules and how they do kind of require you to actually get up in the mornings, congrats to him for being remotely functional during race weekends. crazy how he even won the odd race

and here's the autobiography passage:

My day, usually, begins in the afternoon. It’s as if I exist inside my own personal time zone. I live at night, because I love the night. Now, this might make you think I do goodness-knows-what in the wee hours, or that I don’t live the life of a professional athlete. It’s true, I don’t live the life of an athlete in the traditional sense — early to bed, early to rise and all that — but this does not mean that I’m not careful about what I eat and drink or that I don’t train. In fact, I train a lot, both in the gym and on the bike. It’s just that I go to the gym in the afternoon, rather than the morning. Equally, when I’m training on the bike, down at the quarry, I always go in the afternoon, never at nine o'clock in the morning. My body has a certain type of metabolism. It is used to living according to a different body clock. That’s why, even if I’m travelling all over the world, I don’t experience jet lag and I rarely go to bed before 3 a.m. It’s much more likely that I’m just tucking into bed as people are leaving for work. As I say, I have a special relationship with the night. I like moving in it, living in it, thinking in it, relaxing in it. The night fascinates me, because it’s the period of least confusion. The world calms down, it goes quiet. And, besides, I’m Valentino Rossi. I’m wanted... I'm a fugitive. Yes, I’m always running away from my _ beloved countrymen. The Italians. I’m proud to be Italian, I'm proud of our merits and I regret our shortcomings. Italians are exceptional people. In every way. Even when they start loving you. Because that’s actually when problems can arise — if it’s you that the Italian falls in love with. Italian people are warm, empathetic, spontaneous. But they can also be excessive, oppressive and disrespectful. I don’t know who said that Italians will forgive everything except for success. Whoever it was, they were right. Because it’s absolutely true. After the 1997 season, I could tell I was becoming popular. Year after year, that popularity turned into fully fledged love. They’re in love with me now and, as a result, since the 2004 season, I’ve been a man on the run. And there’s no escape, no end in sight, because wherever I go they find me. There are simple things, the little pleasures in life, which I simply can’t engage in when I’m back in Italy. I can’t go to the bar and have a cappuccino, because I would not be able to drink it. To be fair, I can do it in Tavullia, but that's the only place. If I go more than a few kilometres in any direction from the centre of town, that's it, everything changes and I become, once again, a hunted man. I can’t walk into a store, look at something and decide what I want to buy. In fact, I can’t stop anywhere, not even at a petrol station. If I stop, I’m screwed. Somebody will recognise me (Italians are exceptionally good at recognising people), make a lot of noise, call other people and then, before I know it, I’ve been swallowed up by the crowd. If I schedule a meeting with someone, we have to meet in a secret, out-of-the-way location and, even then, we can't linger. I can't go to a restaurant if there are too many people inside. And if I do go, I can't go at a normal time, say eight o'clock. I have to go later, much later, when people are leaving. And I can't sit where I like, I have to hide away in a corner, in the shadows. As for places like cinemas or the beach, forget about it. They are just always off-limits.

Having said that, I do mix with people. I do it because I like doing it. It’s just that I wish I could do it as a normal person, because, deep down, I am a normal human being. This is part of the reason why I have to live at night. It would be that much tougher during the day, with all those people about. Plus, I don’t like the traffic, the chaos, the noise, all those people running all over the place, stressed out and out of breath. The night is different. Everything is softer, there are fewer people around and you are much more free. It’s like a parallel dimension. The world is different at night. Everything is different. That’s why I’ve assimilated the lyrics of a song by the Italian artist Jovanotti, “Gente. della notte” (“People of the night”). It has become my personal anthem. Jovanotti is one of my favourite singers and I find myself agreeing with him on most things. I love his work. What else can I say? The night is my reality. And I don’t change just because Grands Prix are scheduled during the day. My way of being and living is reflected in what I do during races. I don’t really change. Obviously, I don’t go to bed at dawn, but let’s just say that when I do, finally, go to bed, there aren’t many people around. Everything is better at night in the paddock. There is silence, the people _ have disappeared and, with them, the chaos. I can wander around freely, most of all I can enjoy the empty pit area and my bike. Yes, my bike. Because at night I often slip into the team garage. At some races I do it every single night, because I love being with my bike. My night-time activities can be traced back to the years racing in 125cc, and are directly tied to my passion for aesthetics and the stickers, which would later become my obsession. I don’t leave anything to chance'when it comes to choosing the colour or the stickers for my bike. That’s why I’ve always been central to any and all discussions when we were deciding the aesthetics of my racing bikes. I’ve done it always, with every bike, at every level, with every team. And, naturally, I still do it today. Nobody has ever been allowed to attach a single sticker to my bike, unless it was the logo of a technical sponsor. Until a few years ago I was totally inflexible about this. Now, Roby takes care of the number: he attaches it because then he needs to cover it in transparent paint. But apart - from -this, which is primarily a technical procedure anyway, I take care of everything else to do with the stickers. And this takes time and planning, which is why I started going to the garage at night. During the day it is packed with people. There are mechanics, technicians and others around. I would just get in the way, if I wanted to get near the bike just to check the stickers. As I got older and progressed from 125 to 250 and then to 500 and on to MotoGP, I maintained that passion for aesthetics and stickers, as well as the habit of dropping in on the team garage at night. I enjoy the bike during the day _ obviously, but my relationship with the bike is so special that I can spend hours with it, just looking and admiring it, making sure that everything is in order. Those are very personal moments which I find difficult to describe. The Japanese guys, both the executives but also the engineers never knew this, not the guys at Honda, not the ones at Yamaha. I don’t think they would really understand. They would probably view it as a waste of time, since I don’t actually do anything concrete. I never touch anything to do with the bike itself, beyond, obviously, the stickers. And yet I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. It’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy.

During the day everything happens so quickly, frenetically, neurotically. However, there is a sacrosanct moment when I need to step away and isolate myself. Once my commitment to the team is over, usually around 5.30 p.m., I retire to my motorhome, relax and take a nap. It usually lasts a couple hours and then I go out. There’s always something to do after dinner. Of course, the range of options depends on how many friends are around. I really start enjoying the paddock around ten o'clock at night. Before going to sleep I check on the bike again and then I go into the team motorhome, which serves as an office. Now that I’m at Yamaha, I have an office all to myself. That’s where I keep all my race gear. I do this for two reasons. My own personal motorhome is an absolute mess, nothing more fits in there and I probably couldn’t find anything amid all the junk. Plus, the office is where I change into my racing suit before going out on to the track. Thus, at night, after going to the pits to see the bike, I go to make sure that all my stuff is where it should be: gloves, suit, socks, boots . . . everything needs to be perfect, because I just don’t have time in the morning to hunt around for stuff. Thus, each morning I have to follow a very precise routine. I’m like a robot, everything is the same each day. Because the truth is that I need to be like clockwork. I just don’t have the time to think. Somebody generally comes to wake me up — usually it’s Jeremy, because he doesn’t trust my ability to wake up on my own! I then get up, wash my face (my eyes are still shut at this point) and try to stay awake as I ride the scooter from the motorhome to the pits. I then go up to the office and get dressed. There too everything is done mechanically. It takes the slightest hiccup to throw everything off, forcing me to be late to the testing.

"I find it hard to explain to an engineer that I enjoy simply being near the bike, even when I’m not doing anything. it’s a complicated concept to explain: the risk is that people will think that you're crazy" well -

[aluciahaz]

i literally CANNOT stop thinking abt fucking luci in the hotel and he's being too loud so you put your hand over his mouth and say smth like "gotta be quiet luci, don't want everyone to hear you, do you?"

you can just see the hearts in his eyes as he nods and tries so hard to be quiet, but he literally just can't because you make him feel so good.

the next morning you're in the lobby with everyone and angel starts making some smartass comments to you about "got the big man on his knees" or whatnot and charlie being absolutely mortified until the man himself shows up...

...with hickies/bitemarks covering his neck

youve infested my mind. this is so great 😭 i see him as SUPER loud and sensitive like poor baby cannot catch a break !! even when he’s the most quiet he’s loud!! but he’s literally trying his best for you bc you’ve got him by a chokehold fr (literally and figuratively)

and POOR CHARLIE 💀💀 her dad got absolutely RAILED last night in HER HOTEL and she just has to deal with It 😭😭 im gonna write a fic abt this soon i just had to talk abt it

plus the way i just imagine this short king walking in the living room absolutely clueless with like a power walk of “yeah i got laid last night” energy is just stuck in my head like 😭😭 its so funny ok ill stop thank u for this

[squiddy-god]

jjk men as dads

Re uploaded from terminated blog squid-god-supreme, this is something that I wrote a while ago that I'm re uploading, so I can't promise how good the characterization, and this is gonna be its probably very Ooc, but I don't give a fuck.

CW : implied fem reader, implied previous pregnancy, tooth rotting fluff, probably ooc, happy magical no gege Au lmao. Gojo, geto, nanami, choso

Gojo: 

Chaotic dad 101

Gojo is the embodiment of dad joke energy, he physically cannot stop himself from making those jokes 

Gojo is a fun dad! He likes to teach his kid things 

I can 100% see him teaching his kid to ride a bike 

So imagine this lanky beanpole running after/jogging behind your child as they wobbly ride a bike for the first time

🥺 adorable

Will do your kids hair and will be shockingly good at it

Don't be surprised if you come home and gojo is having a bubble bath and making a mess with your kid

Probably- no I know for a fact this man would have those fun bath paints you put on tile walls 

I don't take criticism

Your child will always have cute outfits that are a matching set (tell me I'm wrong) 

Gojo puts in considerable effort in making your baby/child the cutest

LOVES LOVES LOVES to play peek-a-boo and here those cute tiny baby giggles

Nanami:

HEAD EMPTY JUST NANAMI WAKING UP TO GENTLY ROCK THE BABY BACK TO SLEEP IN HIS ARMS 

Please I cannot function with this thought-

Hhhhhhnnngggggg just imagine walking into the room and there's nanami, baby in his arms, gently swaying with them akanskwsb

He's very extra gentle with the baby 

I have a very specific image of nanami sitting in a chair, baby in his lap while he reads the morning paper 

Gets mushy when he sees you hold the baby and thinks it's just a perfect sight

a protective dad but not overbearing

Let gojo (reluctantly) baby sit one time and it was the last- 😀 the mess smh

I want to see nanami with a little todler teaching them how to dance

Like imagine them standing on his feet while he dances with them i-

I am ascending

Geto: 

When I say if gladly have this man's kids- alwbeiebwiwbeiwbe 🤡

Carries your kid around a lot, like it's a common sight to see him walking around with his kid in his arms

Lots of piggybacks

Cooks cute breakfasts and the child has a matching apron 

Would sing to them but like in a baby voice  and it's really cute 

Dose the thing where you toss your kid a little and catch them 

So happy when they take their first steps (100% got it on video) 

Would always let them win at hide and seek and loves to see them get excited that they found him 

Isn't above pranking you with silly things

Has a picture of them and you on him at all times 

"That's my kid 😊" proud dad™ energy

Choso:

Vvvv protective and loving 

They're just so small and fragile 🥺

Will read them story's even before they can understand because he loves any and all time spent with them 

Really likes to read them picture books while they sit on his lap 

When they are a baby he will hold his hand against theirs and melt because they tiny 

Wholesome boy

Low key (read high key) a big softie 

You, him, and your child in one big ✨snuggle ✨ is his ideal time

Intimidating dad- has a tendency to loom if he senses a threat 

Very sweet and knows the names of all your kids stuffed animals

Choso is a good dad and loves his small family so very much

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 50 (Final Part): Big Brother

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Reader (24)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Please comment and engage it means a lot to me and keeps me motivated 😇

"Oh shit, Y/N!" Max said, reaching out to grab your shoulders as you stumbled backwards, panting heavily. "Are you okay?" he then asked almost ignorantly. 

You nodded, clutching at your belly as the contractions continued to roll through you. "Do I look fucking okay?" you cried out, frustration and fear coursing through your veins. Max's eyes were like saucers as he looked at you, but his face quickly morphed into determination.

"Oh my god!" you screamed, clutching at your belly as the pain intensified. "I think the baby is coming, Max!" 

Max's face turned pale as he looked at you, unsure of what to do. "Y/N, just breathe," he said, trying to keep his voice steady as he guided you inside and towards a nearby chair.

"I can't, Max! It fucking hurts!" you cried out, tears streaming down your face as the contractions continued to roll through you.

Max's gaze flicked around the room, trying to think of what to do next.

"I will call an ambulance," Max said before looking around for his phone, but you knew it was too late to get you to the hospital. The baby was ready to enter the world, and you could feel it happening right there in the living room. You tightened your grip on your swollen belly and took deep breaths as the contractions continued, gripping the chair you were now seated on.

Max dialed the emergency number, and moments later, an operator answered. With shaky hands, Max explained the situation to them.

"Yes, an ambulance is on its way. You need to stay calm and try to keep her as comfortable as possible until we arrive," the woman told Max, but you needed his attentio.

"Max! I need you to help me," you panted out, your voice hoarse from the pain. Max, who had been on the phone, quickly turned to you. "The baby is coming! I can feel it!" you  cried out, clutching at your belly as the contractions steadied into a rhythm. Max, who was now beside you, moved into action, frantically searching the apartment for anything that could help.

"I don't know what to do!" he yelled out, panic setting into his voice.

"Just stay calm," you managed to say between gasps, taking deep breaths. "You've learned about this in med school, remember?" you told him and Max's eyes flickered, and he realized you were right.

He quickly got moving, rushing to grab a clean towel from the bathroom and some sanitary products from the kitchen while calling his dad who, unsurprisingly, did not answer.

"Baby is coming!" he then simply texted him while you cried out again as another contraction hit you, causing Max to jump back to your side.

"Shit, here we go," he mumbled, rushing back to your side and kneeling down in front of you, helping you out of your clothes while mumbling some profanities.

As he did so, you focused all your energy on the intense pain coursing through your body, breathing and pushing with each contraction.

Max, who was visibly panicking, continued to search for something to help, grabbing some water for you.

"Here, drink this and breathe, nice and calm, okay?" he asked, his voice shivering slightly. 

"Max, I think I need to push," you managed to gasp out, clenching the arms of the chair for dear life.

"Really?" Max replied, trying to keep his own breathing even and steady despite the panic rising in his chest. "I am sure the ambulance is almost here. You just need to breathe!"  Max said, trying to stay calm and help you as the contractions came faster and stronger now. "Please do not make me deliver this baby!" he pleaded, looking at the state of the living room, still in shock about what was happening around him. 

"You don't have a choice, Max. I need you and we've got to make this work," you said between gasps, gripping the chair so hard that your knuckles turned white.

Max's eyes flicked up to yours for a moment, and you could see the resolve cross his face. "Alright then," he said firmly, taking a deep breath and focusing on helping you instead of panicking. "Fuck it! Let's do this!"  Max exclaimed, sweat beading on his brow as he positioned himself to catch his sibling. 

"Okay," you groaned loudly in pain. "I am going to...oh my god...argh!" 

Max exclaimed, buckling under the intense pressure.

"Okay, okay, you're doing great," Max encouraged, saving his energy for the next push.

You gritted your teeth, trying to control the pain but every push brought a surge of relief when the baby moved closer to being born.

The adrenaline surged through your body as you felt the baby's head emerging and the crowning was fast approaching. Max, who was now visibly panicking, tried to calm himself.

"Just breathe, Y/N. Take deep breaths," he coached you, but the pain was so intense that it was hard to focus on anything else.

"Max, I don't think I can do this," you cried out, tears streaming down your face as the contractions became even stronger.

"Yes, you can! You are almost there!" Max encouraged, his tone full of determination.

And with one last push, you felt a wave of relief as the baby finally slid out of your body and into Max's waiting arms.

"There you go!" Max exclaimed, looking down at the small, crying bundle in his arms. He quickly wrapped the baby in a nearby blanket and looked up at you, his eyes wide with amazement. 

"Is he okay?" you asked, your voice quivering as you looked at Max with tears in your eyes.

Max nodded, his eyes never leaving the baby. "Yeah, I think so," he said softly, his voice cracking with emotion. You could see the pride and wonder on his face, and you felt your own heart swell with love for this new little person who had just entered the world.

You smiled weakly, feeling a sense of relief wash over you now that the baby was out and safe. But there was still concern on your face as you watched Max cradle the newborn in his arms.

Max then snapped out of his very own thoughts and placed your son  on your chest.

The moment you saw his tiny, wrinkled face and heard his first cries, your love for him grew tenfold.

You looked at him, amazed at what had just transpired.

"You did it, Max," you whispered, fighting back tears. "Thank you!" you smiled wryly as, finally, the ambulance arrived.  

Max smiled, looking down at the baby as well. "I never thought I would be delivering my own brother," he said softly, still in disbelieve as he looked at his hands, covered in blood while the paramedics attended to you. 

You smiled weakly, feeling your heart swell with love for this new little person who had just entered the world and even for Max who had brought him into this world.

The paramedics were quick and efficient in their work, attending to both you and the baby just as, finally, Cillian too arrived, rushing to your site. 

His eyes widened in shock at the sight of you, the baby, and Max, all on the living room floor.

"It all happened so fast," you smiled at Cillian who watched you holding his son in your arms.

You could see the gratitude in his eyes as he looked at Max who stood awkwardly in the corner, unable to take his eyes off the baby.

"And Max helped me deliver the baby ," you said softly, looking at Cillian who was still in shock, looking at his baby boy in disbelief. 

"He is just perfect!" Cillian exclaimed, kneeling down beside you and reaching out a shaky hand to gently stroke the baby's cheek. "Thank you," he then said, looking over at Max with gratitude and a hint of disbelief.

Max nodded, still looking stunned but also happy, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I umm, just did what anyone would have done," he stammered, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention on him. But you could see the pride in his eyes and knew that he was lying.

He had done something incredible, something neither of you will ever forget.

Max, still looking slightly dazed, gave them a small nod. "Can I, uh, hold him?" Max then asked after a little while of watching you and Cillian interact with the newborn child, gesturing to the baby still in your arms, and you could see the hesitation on Cillian's face. But you knew that Max needed this, needed to bond with his new brother in some way.

"Of course," you said softly, smiling at him before carefully shifting the baby into Max's outstretched arms.

The relief on your face is evident, but Max seems to be lost in the miracle that's before him. "Welcome to the world, little one," he murmured, his gaze locked onto the tiny child laying in his hands, covered in the blanket that he had grabbed for him.

Cillian watched his two sons together for a little while, his eyes shining with tears as he took in the striking resemblance between them before assisting the paramedics with cutting the umbilical cord.

Max then handed  the newborn baby back to you before they checked you over and cleared the baby and you both to be taken to the hospital.

It was overwhelming, yet beautiful to see the two siblings together like that - both connected by blood and now by many unplanned events that had sealed their bond for life.

"I never thought I would deliver my own brother," Max murmured again softly, still in awe as he watched Cillian take over and help you get covered up a bit better.

"None of us did," you smiled gently, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you looked at Max while his father gave him an appreciative hug. 

"You did well, Max. Perhaps you shouldn't have quit med school after all," Cillian remarked with a small smile before assisting you into a wheelchair that had been provided for you. 

Max gave a meek nod, still in shock from the experience he had just went through. "I, uh, don't know. Maybe I'll consider it again sometime," he sighed, still holding onto the experience, uncertain of where it leaves him and his future career path. But even if it would not, he knew that this experience led him to something even better than that, namely his family. 

He had a baby brother now and, despite all the things that had happened between you, him and his dad, he wanted to be part of this young child's life as he had no doubt that he could play a significant role in his brother's eyes as he grew up.

THE END

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[astrasrebloggedfics]

Saved Multicharacter JJK Fics 2

SFW

How They Take Care Of You When You're Sick-Gojo, Geto, Nanami

When Your Baby-Gojo, Toji, Choso (Nanami, Geto)

When You Fall Asleep Waiting For Their Return-Gojo, Toji, Choso (Geto, Sukuna, Nanami, Megumi, Yuta, Yuji)

When You Say "Let's Make Out"-Gojo, Toji, Choso (Geto, Sukuna, Nanami, Megumi, Yuji, Yuta)

When You Slap His Ass-Gojo, Toji, Choso (Geto, Sukuna, Nanami, Megumi, Yuji, Yuta)

How They Grieve After Losing You-Gojo, Nanami

NOTHING BAD EVER HAPPENED

When He Meets His Future Kids With You-Gojo, Toji, Choso (Geto, Sukuna, Nanami, Megumi, Yuji, Yuta, Inumaki)

When You Wipe Off His Kiss-Gojo, Toji, Choso (Geto, Sukuna, Nanami, Megumi, Yuji, Yuta)

Oh God! It's Walking?! (Baby's First Steps)-Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna

How Neglectful-Gojo, Toji, Nanami, Geto, Yuji, Megumi (SMAU)

'We' Broke The Microwave-Itafushi, no reader

Incorrect Quotes

Hurt/Near Death Reader-Gojo, Megumi

Random Things They Do-Gojo , Geto , yuji , megumi , inumaki

What Is Y/n For You?-Gojo, Nanami, Itadori, Megumi, Inumaki, Choso, Suguru and Sukuna

Strawberry Scented Kisses-Ryōmen Sukuna, Satoru Gojō, Chōsō Kamo

S/O Who's In A Coma- Gojo, Megumi, Yuji

Foreign Reader- Gojo, Toji (Nanami, Geto)

Sleeping On Them- Gojo, Yuta, Geto, Yuji, Megumi

How They Love You-Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Megumi, Yuji

How They Show Their Love For You

Moments With Your Pregnant Belly- Gojo, Toji (Nanami, Geto)

NSFW

Random SatoSugu (No Reader)

Loving You Right-Toji, Choso

You're Too Tight-Gojo, Toji, Choso

Drink Me-Gojo, Choso

Punishing Gojo using Geto

Geto and Gojo Getting Pegged

Big Dick Energy-Gojo, Toji, Choso

The Pornstar Dream-Gojo, Toji, Choso

Big Boys-Toji, Nanami

Bred By Dawn-Toji, Choso

That's So Unprofessional-Gojo, Toji

I Love When You Get Freaky On Camera-Gojo, Toji

As Pervy Mall Santas-Gojo, Toji, Choso

Too Sweet-Gojo, Toji, Choso

He Moans Like Such A Slut-Gojo, Toji, Choso

Whisper Game (Lightly NSFW)-Gojo, Toji, Choso

Quad Relationship with Gojo, Geto, & Choso

Crown Jewels-Toji, Choso

Throuple With SatoSugu

Who Fucks You Better (Toji and Gojo) Part 1, Part 2

Roommates Series Masterlist-Satoru, Suguru, & Toji

-Triple Penetration

-Fooling Around In The Car

-Mind Break

No Nut November-Nanami, Sukuna, Choso

Public Sex-Gojo, Toji, Geto, Nanami

How They Go Down On You-Toji, Choso

Daddy-Nanami, Geto, Toji

Aftercare-Gojo, Toji, Choso (Nanami, Geto)

Twenty Four Seven-Gojo, Toji, Choso

Cockwarming Them-Gojo, Toji, Choso

Three's a Crowd-Professors Satoru & Suguru

Just the Tip-Gojo, Toji (Nanami, Geto)

Monster Cocks-Incubus Satoru & Suguru and Vampire Toji & Shiu

Who's Your Daddy?-Gojo, Toji

Sukuna/Toji/Gojo/Geto foursome

Double Teaming You-Toji & Shiu, Suguru & Satoru

Being Your Bullies-Geto & Gojo

Taking Turns With You-Geto & Gojo

SMAU Sending nudes-Gojo, Geto, Nanami and Yuki

Breeding, The Solution To Jealousy-Gojo, Toji

Just The Tip, Baby-Gojo, Toji

Do It Right-SatoSugu

Threesome-SatoSugu

P Power-Satoru & Suguru

She Can't Come To The Phone Right Now-Gojo, Geto, Sukuna

Your Top Lifts While You Sleep-Gojo, Choso

Are the JJK men into their nipples being played with?-Gojo, Toji, Choso (Geto, Nanami)

Which Of Them Whimper-Gojo, Choso, Yuta

Oh! So You're Into Older Men?-Gojo, Toji (Geto, Nanami)

First Time Hitting It Raw-Gojo, Toji

The Perfect Little Housewife-Poly SatoSugu

Rate My Professor-Gojo & Geto

Thrill(h)er-SatoSugu x Reader

Step Dad!Gojo & Geto

Sending Voicemails While Jerking Off-Gojo, Toji (Nanami, Yuta, Geto)

Prettiest When Overstimmed-Gojo, Geto, Yuta, Megumi, Inumaki

Finding Your Spot-Gojo, Toji (Geto, Nanami, Yuta)

Sending Videos While Masturbating-Gojo, Toji (Geto, Megumi, Yuta)

Overstim Kink-Gojo, Toji, Sukuna, Geto, Nanami

See Their Cum Spilling Out-Gojo, Toji (MANY others)

Quiet In Class, Please-Gojo, Toji (Nanami, Geto, Sukuna)

When You Have Make Up Sex-Gojo, Toji, Nanami

Honeymoon Sex-Gojo, Geto

What Gets Them Hard-Gojo, Toji, Choso

Soft Doms-Gojo, Toji, Nanami

Thinking About...

How JJK Men Eat Pussy 2.0-Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Yuta, Itadori, Megumi

Breathless-Gojo, Toji, Yuji, Yuta

Date Night-Gojo, Toji

Think I Need Someone Older-(professor) Toji, Nanami, Geto

Passing Out In The Middle Of Sex-Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Choso

JJK Characters Fav Positions (SFW and NSFW)

Birthday Girl-Gojo, Toji (Geto, Nanami)

It's Raining Milk- Gojo, Toji (Geto, Nanami, Sukuna)

Pervy Things They Do-Gojo, Toji (Nanami, Geto)

[hiskillingjar]

First of all if this is a question you are not going to answer you can skip it.

If Mc got pregnant and told them she/they was pregnant, how would Ren Strade Law react?

g-d i've been on such a pregnancy kink lately. i blame it on the end of my twenties approaching and being in a relationship with a heterosexual cis man. anyway.

ren 🦊

ren would be absolutely fucking delighted oh my g-d

he might just cry. like full on

you do a test and he might start crying

he gets someone new to take care of (and depend on him), and your bond is going to get even stronger. why wouldn't he be delighted!

he'd also have a brain and be super gentle and. Normal Boyfriend with you while you were pregnant

because like obviously you can't stand some of the things you usually do, and he's not going to put your body through any stressors. you might have kind of an easy go of it, to be honest

he'd even take you to a hospital for check-ups and stuff, just to make sure there's nothing to worry about, in spite of the whole. kidnapping thing. what a nice guy!

and like. obviously he's gonna get a little eager about your body changing, your hips and tummy filling out (your breasts getting bigger)

seeing the effects of his "love" on your entire being, your body might make him go a little insane (positive)

that's fine though. you're pretty insane by the end of it too <3

written this with fox :)

law 🥀

law would freak OUT

oh my g-d they are not ready for that at all

idk law is so. on the precipice of death at all times, so the very idea of creating life with you would really make them panic

like. okay in the context of them in canon, they might lose themselves and accidentally kill you

(and open you up and cut out the foetus to put in a jar. freak)

but okay. you make a baby and SOMEHOW you manage to carry it to term

they still wouldn't really know what to do but may be a little more intrigued as time goes by

the human body changes so much during pregnancy, your bones shift, your organs move to make room for this...invasive thing inside you. that's pretty interesting

and they'd definitely be compelled by the idea of you sharing your body with them to such an intimate degree. you let them curl up inside you, be carried there, be assimilated to create a combination of the two of you...there's romance to that

things that freak you out can be pretty sexy!

strade 🔨

strade would honestly be in two minds about it

like on the one hand, he's a total hedonist who wants to do what he wants and works in porn and snuff. what business does he have having a child?

but then. he's a man (derogatory). the idea of claiming you, corrupting you, taking everything you are and creating a legacy for himself...that's compelling. that's interesting!

and what man can say no to big boobs and a heightened libido

and like if you're insane (like i am), the whole pseudo-housewife thing just has its natural conclusion in him knocking you up so. that may be where the story takes me

granted, he's an idiot and would treat you like he normally does, baby be damned (ren would be sooooo mad at him for it which just gives him more incentive to do it)

and he also wouldn't let you go to a hospital for check ups so like. hope you have a lot of pregnancy books, because you're doing this on your own babes

he MIGHT pay a dark web surgeon to deliver it though, american mary style. he doesn't really want you dead, after all

unfortunately he might be a pretty good dad.

he's got a lot of energy to keep up with a baby, he's interested in seeing it grow, he's interested in seeing how it develops.

might see it more as like. a neat houseplant or a dog, not really a human being though

[emojellyace08]

Hi! Big fan of your oneshots. Can I request a female Gojo x lookism men characters. Where Gojo dies and is reincarnated into the popular webtoon Lookism but "HE" became a "SHE". Gojo being gojo causes mayhem wherever she goes and rizzing people especially teasing the students at J-high because she is now their teacher. And Gojo is more chaotic than Goo and I imagine her saying to Gun, "I'm the strongest". Since he reincarnated as a girl and in a world without curse energy he doesn't have any CE but he is still super strong just like the OP characters in the webtoon especially since he's an expert in the martial arts. He still has the six eyes but not as OP and draining he just can see really well than the average person.

Female! Gojo Reader x Lookism Cast!

𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 (𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐥). 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 (𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝)

In the world filled with infinite possibilities, you wouldn't expect to end up in another universe. You, one of the most (if not) powerful sorcerer in the whole world ends up dying in the hands of Sukuna. And you wouldn't expect to get reincarnated in an ordinary world without curses. Well, that's what you thought at first.

You were first confused at how did you turn into a baby. But lucky for you, your family is part of one of the most wealthiest and powerful Yakuza in Japan. Growing up, you were confused about your identity. Asking your mom if you really turned into the opposite sex. "Ma, can I ask you something?" "Sure darling, what's the matter?" she asked with a sweet tone as she prepares your meal. "Am I really a girl?" "Well, physically you are a girl. But if you feel like not fitting with the other little girls, it's okay if you like masculine toys. But inside of you must be always genuinely kind and is ready to help others without wanting anything in return."

You may still have the familiar sapphire blue eyes, hair fluffy like clouds, skin white as snow, and your personality intact with your female body, you still can't help but to feel weirded out in your early life. Without your powers, you felt the familiar feeling of dread linger through your soul. All the training and physique were wasted because of that monster! But you forced your dad to teach you martial arts. He almost scolded and beaten you up for "disobeying" his rules as you are not fitted to replace his heir. Feeling that familiar burst of pride in your heart that wanted to explode and lash out to him and knowing to yourself that you have LOTS of experience in your past life as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, you trained yourself for years to prove your own father wrong and show him who really is the weak one. Time-skip ahead, you successfully graduated and hired as a teacher for Physical Education knowing that you are body-kinesthetic.

You made your way into the school hallways with your bag. Instead of books for your lessons that you will discuss about, it's filled with sweet treats (and some lip balms to keep yourself ✨sexy, gorgeous, and daring✨. You remember high-school days when many teenage boys at your age often fight outside your house when they used to court you. "Sorry, I'm not attracted to men and girls are really scary! Sheesh people are so cheesy these days!"

Knowing your instincts, you tend to be a bit too friendly with other people as you are excited to annoy another living soul in this earth today. "He~~LLO!" you greeted quite loudly as the poor guy squeaked in surprise at your presence. "WUAH FUCK! Oh, shi- I'm sorry sunsengnim!" (teacher). "Oh, NO WORRIES PAL. You must be new here, right?" you questioned as you introduced yourself to the new student. "Well, I am (*insert female name here*) and according to every men and women that I had rizzed, I'm the most prettiest and sexiest woman and teacher in this country. Well then nice to meet you." you winked as to express your friendliness as he awkwardly shook your pale hands with his sweaty ones. "Ah, I'm sorry for the overflowing enthusiasm. Let's go to your new class for us to meet them!" you chuckled as you ate your mochi, even offering to share Hyung-Seok but he politely declines.

The moment you and Daniel entered the Fashion Department class, everyone's jaws dropped as it almost hit on the floor for dramatic effect. And you know that you weren't wasting their time when you gave all those candies as prizes by making up a warm-up game before classes begins as they are already fond of you! The other boys trying to impress you as you platonically tease them even though you have no romantic attraction on them. And the GIRLS WOULD LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Your hair and eyes also makes them fond of you (especially Zoe since she's a Beauty-Nerd). "OMG ARE YOU AN ANGEL OR SOMETHING?!" she squealed as you let her braid her hair as you relaxed on your chair and placed your legs on the teacher's table despite it being against the rules on free time. The others were doing their own shenanigans as you keep telling them to quiet down. "So, you think I'm hot or something? I'm glad you know. Oh Zack stop abusing Jiho's hand it's just arm wrestling!'

And they also enjoy your performance activities too! Since their courses is all about sewing with those mind-twisting history behind it, of course they will get sleepy and stressed out about it. But being the bold and bright-spirited that you are, you know school won't be fun without a little stretch of your body. So you make sure that whatever you teach them sports will be easily followed, yet you tend to forget to uncomplicate the rules since you're pride and confidence gets in the way at times. Sports and a little bit of martial arts (especially with the boys) are so fun! Being competitive, you taught them not only the basic techniques and skills that all can master. But you also thought them discipline when using it as you also sighed to yourself that you can get a bit cocky when fighting too as the adrenaline keeps chasing you to your high when fighting a strong opponent. You can see Daniel, Zack, heck even Jay taking down notes to this. The other departments are also fond with you as they really idolize you as their teacher (especially The Architecture Department).

But despite having your comedic side, it's rest assured that you are not letting anyone slide whoever tries to mess with you or anyone you know or fond with. The bullies will just stare at you cowardly as you look back at them with your striking cerulean eyes yet they seem uncanny because of your menacing expression. "You little fuckers, didn't your parents told you to not disturb anyone in the way?" "WE'RE SORRY SUNGSENGNIM!"

Yet since your family background is REALLY involved with the gangs (and the 4 major crews as you have minor knowledge around it), you started to get involved with the drama. Not only because you want to protect the innocence of your students as you grew fond over them, but because you tend to get a bit bored on teaching and pissing off your co-teachers. You smirked as the thought of fighting strong opponents excites you.

And you're excitement matches up with the sturdy and powerful fighters in this universe. You even helping out your students to bring down some of the most-feared men in Korea like Jonggun and Jungoo. You even got to flirt with them with a moment before you went face-to-face with the two as you declined their offer as they asked you to be their new member for Charles Choi's success.

"Miss, I'll ask you again. Why is it that you don't want to join our team? Are you so worried about leaving your students?" The black eyed male whispered at your ear as crimson-red blood drips down to his chin as you smirked at the bruise you gave him at the side of his lips. "And for a hottie like you, I didn't expect you to be this strong! So why not join us for a million won and even more?!" the blondie exclaimed as he swung his pipe as his weapon of choice. Him looking around at the building with lots of damage done from your fighting. "First of all, that's three questions. And yes, I have no plans to team up with your shitty team since I like hanging out with my students. And lover boy take note of this, I'M GOING TO SHIT ON YOUR FACE BECAUSE I"M THE STRONGEST!" you maniacally laughed as you landed a kick on Shiro Oni's face once again as he's starting to feel aroused excited about the energy that you're giving him. "If so, then LET'S FUCKING KILL EACH OTHER RIGHT NOW!" he ripped his shirt off as he rushed towards you as you did the same with that smile. "OI YOU'RE FORGETTING ME HERE I'M THE MAIN CHARACTER!" Goo replied as he plans to attack you from the back.

[toxycodone]

genital headcannons for :

Falin

Laios

Chilchuck

Toshiro

Namari

Venery

Thistle

Falin definitely has a penis, I think hers is probably the biggest out of Laios' party? Namari definitely packs, I would let her peg me for hours omg..... she could ruin me. Ermmm.. Chilchuck probably has a big cock for a halfling, he's fucking TALL !!!! bro has to be packing something. Also shaved or not shaved... Namari body hair everywhere OMG I need her to shove my face into her bush I need to smell her. Sorry I'm being a little too straight (? I am a man but this feels gay idk) ... anyway chil, Namari, and Falin are unshaved, full bush down there. I feel like Toshiro at his best keeps everything trimmed !! but when he can't even shave his face when he's at his lowest... bro wouldn't have the energy to take care of it. Hmm and then Laios could be either way..?? We know he shaves his face and keeps his hair short bc he doesn't wanna look like his dad, but would he even think of shaving his pubes????? Idk. Wait is this a weird thing to think about? Oh wait do elves grow body hair??? I feel like thistle would have some body hair if it's possible, I feel like they can't... unless my DND 5e knowledge is getting mixed with uhmmm. What is it called... DUNGEON MESHI I think I'm starting to dissociate I'm going to stop typing lmfao

FALIN - GIRLCOCK. Whether you are a trans!Falin fan or what, in my eyes after the red dragon thing. She gets girl cock. I can see this as either like, a penis or like T-dick. Whatever you decide. But whatever it is her situation is definitely unique. Also she got a bush frfr

Laios - COCK. (I am also a trans!Laios fan so like. He can have anything in his pants it don’t matter imma eat it but usually when I write him it’s cock). His dick is as painfully average as he is. Not crazy length wise but he got some girth to it. I’m thinking like. 5 inches frfr. Maybe 6 but that’s generous imo. No manscaping just vibes he’s full bush down there. And body hair on his chest/legs/arms and around his groin

Chilchuck - OKAY. His dick is probably like more similar to an average tallman penis. Which is remarkable considering he’s like half their size. I’m gonna give him four inches and he’s breaking other halflings in half with it but with other races. He’s learned how to use it. Chilchuck is a real one. Light on body hair, but would keep it tidy when he’s not in the dungeon (I think he likes to manscape and like. Appreciate himself in the mirror lol)

Toshiro - He is ALL length and so embarrassed about it. (Def afraid he’s gonna hurt you.) He could learn to love it with a supportive partner though. I think for a while he’s rocking bush because like, yknow. That stuff isn’t really talked about…but he figured it out for himself that when he takes his time and shaves and stuff after a anything or whatever he’ll do some trimming down there because he likes the neatness. I like to think he grows body hair but it’s not super dark for some reason (besides on his face people get jealous at the beard he can grow)

Namari - SHE IS JUST LIKE ME I GET HER VIBE SO WHAT IM SAYING HERE IS CANON: SHE HAS CRAZY PUSS BUT IS ALWAYS ROCKING THE STRAP. Namari doesn’t let anyone fuck her hole unless they’re in a committed relationship (she does not play about that either if you insert anything in her sex is over). Insane with the strap too. She’s someone I can genuinely see breaking the bed with her strokes. Also she’s got body hair for days. Like other Dwarf women she can grow a beard too but she usually shaves. (Namari with stubble…I’m bout to go feral.)

Venery - Started off with a human vagina. Now it’s some weird mix between that + hyena + dragon cock. I think he’s canonically intersex due to the ancient magic. But he’s happy about it. Also UHHHHHH…..HE LAYS EGGS. JS.

Thistle - Okay Thistle is so trans to me I think he gives himself top surgery when he’s getting older with ancient magic. He leaves the downstairs area alone because he’s fine with just presenting masc that’s good enough for him. Very low body hair he just sits in the middle of gender ambiguous for REAL.

[kerubimcrepin]

Wakfu OVA - Book 3, Dragon Mountain [PART 1]

Amalia he is handing you all out the Twelvian equivalent of six nuclear devices.

Amalia: [asks Joris]

Kerubim: [replies instead of Joris]

Second most batshit thing he's doing after the whole "speaking over him in private" thing. He's so evil dad energy.

Joris having to do the thing most of us know as "mom stooop she already got it."

AND after Keke stops talking he starts answering the question she asked him himself.

Once again, what seems like a normal interaction to most, is a goldmine to me.

Literally the funniest possible thing a guy who keeps losing Dofus, and had to stop being Ebony's guardian due to "interpersonal issues with the dragon", can say.

I never mentioned this previously, but one really cool detail is that even though he probably can't use them, the Dofus do react to Joris's touch — thanks to his dragonized nature.

Since the OVAs came out before the movie, this drove a lot of people a little bit crazy.

Big fan of Atch and Keke standing silently and looking vaguely worried about things.

I'M INSANE.

OF COURSE KERUBIM CREPIN WOULD REACT TO THIS. HE'S DAD.

I can read into things soooo well. I can read into them so easily. It comes like breathing to me.

[puts on tinfoil hat] Yes Kerubim wants to come back home together with Atcham and Joris, but also, Kerubim is seen pushing Joris towards his responsibilities, so I wonder if he feels a sense of guilt for the person Joris has become (guy who will die if he isn't saving the world).

lL;sdf;epor21301;;;; aksdkmaljwijahcfaw j

Anyway, I'm liking the fact that Kerubim and Atcham decided not to come with. Letting Joris have fun (type 3 fun, to be exact) with his friends <3 without making him feel weird by hovering around.

I have thought for years what Joris allowing Yugo to risk the end of the world for Tristepin might mean for his character. It doesn't feel out of character, far from it, — though it would be just as in-character if he was (softly) against this.

I think it's just one of Joris's many multitudes. He has very strong ("strong") morals, until people he cares about are involved.

Besides that, as someone who was alive before Ogrest's Chaos, I do think he'd love for the flooding of the world to stop, which might also be a factor in him not resisting the Brotherhood of Tofu's dangerous decisions here.

Just like OVA 2 was win after win after win after win for Crepinjurgenites, I think this OVA is kind of a big win for Adamai and Yugo fans.

Anyway the way Joris and Ruel are watching this happen is so fucking funny I can't. They really said 😬 and 😐

Joris hesitates before joining in.... because he's not a part of their friend group (but he wishes he were)

Personally, I think he joined in after seeing Otomai do so. It felt less awkward/presumptious. We don't see him lay his hand on Ruel — it cuts away to Otomai before that happens, which makes me consider this possibility.

OVA 3 makes me wish for an alternate season 3 that doesn't suck ass and actually handles Adamai's arc well. My suffering is so real and poignant.

THAT'S WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT. HE WAS SILENTLY STANDING THERE THINKING "Adamai is right though..." and doing NOTHING. Because he's sick in the head.

GET SCARED.

When I first watched the OVAs, I thought that these were all his past lives, and not the fucking Eliotropes. I wish life was kinder 😔

Joris "50 traumagenic psychological disorders" Jurgen ready to attack things at the drop of a hat like a wild animal.

Cutie-patootie shielding his eyes and groaning all pissed off at Yugo for doing whatever scary shit he just did.

Staring at Otomai.

While Otomai is staring at him.

He replies to her as if his own reaction to this wasn't O_O

Ngl I feel like having Grougalorasalar (the #coguette #female manipulator dragon), Dardondakal (??? the cringe warcrime dragon), and Goultard's Gay Lover Doomed By The Narrative inside your head would give anyone brainrot that leads them to cause an apocalypse to happen.

AND there are three other guys in there. And all six of them are eating holes into his brain.

Your honor, Ogrest just had a silly little time and we should forgive him for it.

[clears throat and approaches the mic] Ogrest and Otomai are good but. What if another father-son duo also had a scene where the son threatens to hurt his father if he doesn't leave him alone. Wouldn't it be cool. Haha. There are tons of father-son duos in this franchise! Tumblr user @jorisjurgen, also known as @kerubimcrepin, is not pointing at any pair of characters in particular — I just think a son should threaten to kill his father at least once more in this franchise.

[we-out-here-simping]

Ch 3: expanding horizons.

(s.h. x gn!reader)

from the river to the sea. (get in your daily clicks, read about it, donate if you can.)

Summary: you want to talk to Steve, but between your fights with hopper and looking after el and max, you just can't seem to get the time out but it's okay! you'll make the time to talk later... right?

Warnings: use of (y/n); no pronouns used (gn!reader); sad; arguments; flashbacks; injuries; a wild Eddie Munson appears; high school bullies

Word count: 8k

A/n: changed the chapter title but still feel like nothing fits for this one :{

also this was supposed to be out atleast a week or two ago but shit keeps coming up and I get very sleepy very early soz guys ;(

i know i asked for lil soft happy blurb ideas earlier unforch nothing got my creative juices flowing... well- there is one Nancy fic I've been wanting to write for a while now but I feel like I'm already working on so many different fics I don't wanna add another one but just know I'm thinking of Nancy wheeler and soon sapphic energy will strike upon me on a random weekday and I'll write her down

Masterlist

It was hard to breathe. Steve's vision is blurry as he walks through the woods towards his car. He feels ridiculous-- absolutely ridiculous, walking through woods in a stupid sailor uniform after being caught doing the deed with the person he is dating by said person's father. 

Walk of shame is an understatement.

But that isn't all that makes it all so ridiculous, so damn stupid. Steve knew he shouldn't have been eavesdropping on you two, it was a matter between you and Hopper, but he just couldn't help it– he was the topic of the argument after all.

He didn't know what to do when Hopper's voice got louder, when he started shouting. He wanted to barge in, to act as your shield. 

"No, you listen", Hopper’s voice comes loud even through the door, "You are fucking grounded. You can live your stupid paranoid fantasy and stay safe and stuck in this cabin”

“Hop–”

"And that means no tv–", the man interrupts you and Steve hates how much this whole thing reminds him of his own dad. 

"Dad–", he hears you whimper and it breaks his heart. Because you don't call Hopper ‘dad’, not yet anyway. You had once confided in the boy that the title felt too big. Too scary. You’d told him that Hopper didn’t mind. That he’d told you to take as long as you need, to say it if and when it feels right. But with the way he is shouting, it makes him wonder if gentle words like that could ever leave his mouth. 

Boots shuffle on the other side of the door, "No radio or cassettes, no more phone, no more tv– ", Steve hears the clatter and something falling on the floor. "What else are you hiding from me, huh?”

"Nothing, Hopper–", his feet stomp once again, "Hopper, stop–"

"No more fucking dating", his voice booms, followed by the sound of something tearing up.

Your voice cracks when you exclaim, "NO!!--" 

"And NO MORE FUCKING STEVE HARRINGTON", Steve can’t help but flinch a little at the large thump that follows. "D'YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?" He barely even heard the sniffle you let out. “Asked you a fucking question.”

This is it, Steve thinks, enough of this. He is stepping in, Hopper, respect and his dad be damned, he will not let the man shout at you like that and not do anything.

Just when Steve was about to swing open the door, he heard you speak up, "No."

"What'd you say?"

"I said, no."

"Why? You love that stupid idiot or something?"

The air is thick with tension, Hopper’s question lingers in it for a while. You don't say a word. Seconds pass and your voice finally comes out, all shaky and rough. “He’s my friend. He’s my only friend, Jim.”

Steve’s knuckles turn white around the door knob. He cant help the pit that starts forming in his stomach, the disappointment that settles in it.

Friend. Friend? That's it? 

Sure, you both had just been dating only for two weeks but they were one of the best two weeks of his life and you don't feel the same? 

His grip tightens. was Steve being irrational? Maybe. But he cant help that pit in his stomach to spread wider– not because you don't love him but because he realises that he does. The realisation hits him like a bag of bricks, sure to bruise.

He thinks back to the night at your old trailer, the night he realised he liked you. All those months spent sneaking in just to see your face and your smile, tell you stupid jokes, hear your laugh, and to just be around you— it meant nothing to you? 

And now, he loves you. He loves you and you don't. 

"Cut the bullshit, y/n", he hears Hopper mutter from the other side.

his jaw tightens, molars grinding. Steve felt like history was repeating itself but this time he won't let it kick him down. He won't let it happen.

He won't let it happen to him again— he couldn't. So he puts his shirt back on, blinks back the moisture in his eyes and leaves the cabin. 

Now, walking to his car, he dared not to look back where he had just left, he wished to not even think of what had just happened. This was stupid, he was stupid. And as he drives through Hawkins towards starcourt mall, all he could think of was how much he felt about you and how much you didn't.

Hopper was right, this was all just a bunch of bullshit.

Bullshit. He laughs to himself at it without finding any humour in it. its funny how much that one word has ruined things in his life. The two syllables, a running motif in his life that he just can't seem to escape.

When Steve walks into work, Robin Buckley notices the air around him is thick and stale, his shoulders slumped. He was missing his scoops ahoy hat, his hair in disarray which is an uncommon occurrence considering he always had it styled as it is his self proclaimed best feature. His eyes have a glazed look to them, Robin notices– not that she was going to investigate as to why. she doesn't care about him, they aren't friends, they are far from it.

Something else she notices, Steve was trying to hit on every girl that came to the counter. So much so that the girl had conjured up a tally scoreboard– five lines marked below the 'you suck' and zero below the 'you rule'.

Robin listens to Steve trying to flirt with another girl and doing so badly. She fights back a snicker as the curly haired girl rejects the boy. As the girl and her friend walk away giggling, she hears, ".... It's my first day here...", Steve's voice trails off before letting out a heavy sigh, his head hanging low.

"And another one bites the dust!" Robin announces, sliding the whiteboard so Steve could see it– marking another tally under the 'you suck' title. "You are O for six, Popeye"

He crosses his arms, turning around, "Yeah, I can count"

"You know that means you suck."

"Yep, I can read too."

"Since when?", She retorts quizzically, putting the board back where it had been before continuing, "Why exactly are you suddenly trying to flirt with every girl in Hawkins?"

His brows knit together before he looks away, shaking his head a little, "I'm not trying to... flirt with anyone”

"Yeah, you are. I thought you were already spoken for"

"I have no clue what you're talking about"

she squints her eyes, "Oh, really? what about--"

“I don't even want to talk to you right now”, he interrupts her, turning around, his eyes not meeting hers.

“Not too keen about it either”, she is quick to say it-- they arent friends after all. "i mean– Y'know", she rests her crossed arms on the counter, "it's a crazy idea but have you ever considered telling them the truth?" she shrugs towards where the two girls had just been.

"Oh, that I'm so stupid that I couldn't even get into tech and now my douchebag dad's trying to teach me a lesson? That I make three bucks an hour and that I– that I have no future?", That the one person I love never seems to love me back? "That truth?"

“Wow Harrington. A joy to be around, aren't you?”, she shakes her head, trying to rid her head of thoughts and questions about Steve Harrington's love life. “And where’s your hat? You’re supposed to have it on at all times, y’know, company policy”

“I– um, I forgot it at home”

“‘Course you did”, Robin sighs. Before she could say anything else, Robin's eyes land on a group of girls walking towards the ice cream store, "Hey, twelve o' clock", she tells him, gesturing towards the group.

Steve let out a breath, he goes to fix his hair, quirking a brow towards Robin as if to ask if he looked good.

“And he says he isnt flirting”

“I’m just trying to look presentable”, he defends, running his fingers through his hair one last time.

"oh my god you're a whole new man", she says all dry and sarcastic.

"I know right ooh–", the brown eyed boy shimmies his shoulders then quickly turns towards the counter, "ahoy there, ladies! Didn't see you there! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavour with me? I'll be your captain….", The sailor uniform clad boy announces rather loudly, "I'm Steve Harrington."

The group of girls look at the boy with wide eyes, holding in their giggles. Steve is still babbling about the many flavours they offered, his gaze flitting from one girl to another. Robin grimaces and turns to put another tally under 'you suck'.

…

There is a knock on your bedroom door, followed by a voice. "(Y/n)?", Jim calls out from the other side.

Your door is locked. Still hiding under your blankets, you'd spent the entire night tossing and turning, barely getting any sleep. Your back hurt from lying in the same position for so long, your eyelids droopy. And Hopper knocking on your door every ten minutes ever since he woke up wasn't helping.

"(Y/n)?", The man hollers again, "just... open the door, okay– I have breakfast", He is greeted with silence, once again.

"Listen," he sighs, "I just want to talk...", he pauses and after it was indicative that he wasn't getting a response, he bangs his balled-up fist against the door.

"Go away", he finally hears your voice out loud. You did not want to see him, you couldn't. Yesterday's fight still fresh in your mind, you couldn't bear to look at him or the things he'd broken during said fight. the aftermath of his lash-out lied shoved in a lonesome corner of your cramped room. You wanted him to leave you alone, to go to work like he always does so you could call Steve and maybe apologise for all that Hopper might've said to the boy. so that things could go back to the way they were.

There is silence and for a minute you think he actually listened to you. But then the muffled sound of his sigh reaches your ears. "Hey, I know that…", he breaths in, "yesterday– I might have said too much… and I– I just wanna talk it out and maybe–"

Suddenly, the door flies open and he is met with your face. Your red rimmed eyes filled with anger, nostrils flared and hair a mess. "I told you to go away. So, just leave me alone", you say through gritted teeth, voice cold before slamming the door on Jim's face.

"HEY, don't you fucking slam doors!", His palm went for the knob, locked. "Open this door, (y/n)."

"No", he barely hears you over the blood rushing in his ears.

"Where the hell have you gotten this attitude from lately, huh? From your little friend? You think you're being real cool? being a rebel?"

"Oh, you think you're being real father-like?"

it only makes him angrier, he clenches his jaw, "(Y/n)... open this door", he says it almost like a warning.

"No."

"Fine!", he throws his hands up before holding up a angry finger at the door like an angry father does, "Just know that I tried to have an adult and mature conversation with you, but since you're such a reckless, immature child, I'll let you fucking be!", He turns away from the door, stomping his feet rather purposely.

The door swings open behind him. he turns around and you're there all furious and mad.

"Ah, look who it is!", The man exclaims, sarcasm evident in his tone, "Finally gracing us peasants!"

"You're the one who broke all my stuff and acted like a man-child", You hiss, pointing an accusatory finger towards the man, "And I'm the reckless and immature one?"

"Not only are you that but you're also stupid and irresponsible– breaking a rule, with that jackass Steve Harrington, no less!”

“Don't say that about him, he’s my–”

“Your friend? Yeah, I heard that, I saw it all too. I'm sure you guys are great friends!" Jim speaks with mockery in his words, "D'you kiss and fornicate with all your friends?"

With a scowl he continues, “you are immature and irresponsible, sneaking him in past my alarms like that–"

“They’re shit anyway!” you shout to interrupt him but he keeps talking, voice only getting louder.

"Not only did you put yourself in danger but El as well."

"How the hell did that put us in danger? you know Steve he–"

"Don't you talk back to me!” there's that tone again, the one that makes you scared, “you put us all at risk for this stupid boy. So yeah, you are irresponsible"

"God, why do you hate me so much??", You blurt out– its frustrated, tired and angry. You don't realise what you'd said until it was already out. Tears line your red eyes, and you look so tired, you want to go back to sleep.

all his irritation and rage are gone, his face falls, "What–", Hopper starts but gets interrupted by a familiar voice.

"(Y/n)? Hopper? What's happening?", El, who had been presumably waiting for Mike outside inquires with furrowed brows as she comes back in, concern etched into her features.

Both you and hooper say that it was, "nothing". You turn your face away so the girl couldn't see your distraught state and unfallen tears, trying to discreetly wipe them away. Jim rubs his palms over his face to collect himself, himself also not meeting the young girl's eyes.

She looks between the two of you before moving towards the phone, “is everything okay?” Hopper asks after clearing his throat. you glare at him.

“Yes.” she answers. You and Hopper stand silently as she asks for Mike on the phone. She then goes to her room to continue the conversation with the boy.

He clears his throat once again, and when you catch him looking at you, you cast him a glare full of indignation that makes him avert his gaze away. "I'm– I should get going...", Jim mumbles more to himself before taking his hat, wallet and keys and then heading out while you turn to usher yourself into your room, wallowing in self pity, once again.

Your room was dark, none of the lights on and somehow it was colder in there. Within moments you hid yourself under the blankets, ignoring the ever-present headache you'd had for a few days now.

1980.

You got detention, again.

You are used to it at this point. It is the same old– you wouldn't know how to react in a social situation, a classmate would make fun of you, and you'd get mad. Anger would boil in your blood as you would walk up to the person and punch them square in the face. Their parents would complain, you'd get detention and then a lecture in the principal's office with Hopper. The same old.

This time it is Tony Reed who was graced with a split lip and a bruised cheek. The blonde boy had decided it was very cool and funny to trip you in the lunch cafeteria and then proceed to spill his chocolate milk over you, calling you something that you didn't know the meaning of but assumed it was bad considering how his group was laughing and sneering. Your limbs had worked faster than your brain and here you are sitting outside the principal's office, picking your nails and waiting for Hopper to come out.

It has been almost close to a year since you escaped the lab. Almost a year of hiding. Almost a year of running. Almost a year of trying to fit in and failing ever so graciously at it. Almost a year since you'd met Jim Hopper.

Seldom do you two talk now, the man is always busy with his work. You also had your own job, school and the overall goal to not be caught by the lab again. The man doesn't know about your past. He is unaware of all of the secrets the small town of Hawkins holds, so does everyone else.

The creak of the door alerts you that it is Hopper coming out of the office. He picks up the hat he'd placed on the seat next to you, a silent gesture to tell you that he is ready to leave. You follow him out the doors, quick steps catching up to him. You sit in his car, slamming the doors behind you.

There is a silence, your gaze fixed on hands resting in your lap. Jim reaches for the cigarette pack in his pocket, he lights it up, blowing out a puff of smoke– making the car smell like strong tobacco.

He lets out a long, heavy sigh, "(y/n), we've talked about this", he continues once he notices you aren't going to interrupt him, "you can't keep doing this. This is the second time this month"

"(Y/n)", he says tenderly when you don't answer, "Hey... look at me when I'm talking to you" You look up from your lap, gaze connecting with his. "You cant keep doing this. If someone says something, we've discussed how to deal with it�� you talk to your friends, teachers, or me"

"I don't have friends, teachers don't believe, and you are busy….. always", when Hopper doesn't say anything you continue, "I have not seen you since the last time I got in trouble. you are never there at the PTAs or–"

"Yeah, that's because I am not your damn parent, (y/n)", Jim interrupts you.

Your gaze is back to your hands in your lap, picking at the skin near the nails. The man beside you lets out a soft sigh, rubbing his temple. "Hey, hey", he whispers, "How about you promise and try not to kill another kid, I'll get you a new shirt and treat you with some Benny's, hmm? How's that sound?"

…

You heard a knock at your door, a softer and quieter one as compared to Hopper's, "(Y/n)? Can I come in?" El asks.

"Yeah, sure". The door opens, the hinges creaking slightly– light pooling into the dark room. Eleven lets herself in, sitting by the foot of your bed.

"What happened with Hopper?"

"You heard it all didn't you?" The girl nods. "I'm sorry…" that I shouted? That he shouted? That you heard it?

"So, Hopper knows about Steve?" Eleven inquires.

"Yeah, he does", you sigh before asking, "Hopper's gone right?"

You sister nods. You get up from your place, feet padding towards the phone hung by the kitchen wall– dialing up Steve's house number. When the line goes to the voicemail, you opt to try for his workplace number. You were greeted with the raspy voice of a girl.

You immediately hang up. El looks at you quizzically, “it wasn't him" Its always Steve who picks up the phone. Normally, at this time, Steve would always be there to pick up your calls. And Steve never ignores your calls.

You let out a forlorn sigh, putting the phone back on the receiver. Eleven standing by your side ready with a bowl of cereal for you and herself. You thank the girl before going to take a seat on the couch– she follows you closely then sits beside you. The girl twiddles her thumbs, clearly wishing to say something, "I wanted to ask you something", she speaks up after a while of eating silently.

"Yeah?"

"Mike... is being strange.. he is lying, I think" The girl explains to you all the details of everything that occurred between her and Mike. The way the girl explained everything, it seemed like your sister was asking for advice but considering you know jack shit about relationships, you were stumped.

After you both were done breakfast, she suddenly grabs your wrist and pulls you off the couch only stopping for you to put on your shoes and then pulling you through the door.

"El, what– where are you going?"

"To get advice."

"From who?"

Eleven tells you she was taking you to Max's home. You aren't sure that roaming in the neighbourhood was a good idea yet you let her lead you. The houses almost all look the same, surrounded by well mowed lawns and next to no one. Except for one person with bright red hair. Max is practising skateboarding and in the process the board slips from under her feet, rolling towards you and your sister.

The short haired girl beside you stops the board with her feet, picks it up and walks towards the redhead.

"Hi", Eleven greets.

"...Hi?" Max echoes in confusion, glancing between you and Eleven. You gave a wave of your hand towards the girl.

"Can we... talk?"

....

"... And then he said, he missed me", your sister explains to Max who is pacing around her room, furrows of lines on her forehead. You are leaning against the wall by the door, eyes following the redhead's movement. "And then he just... hung up"

"He's a piece of shit", Max says matter-of-factly.

“That seems... harsh?” you speak up a little unsure.

“Are you seriously defending Mike right now?” Max looks at you pointedly.

“You know what? You’re right", you hold your hands up in surrender, "my bad.”

"What?" El says, looking between you two and suddenly it makes you feel bad about shitting on her boyfriend so openly.

"El think about it", Max says, now stopping infront of the girl to get her full attention, "Mike doesn't have jack shit to do today– his Nana obviously isn't sick. I guarantee you, him and Lucas are playing Atari right now."

"But friends don't lie", El states naively.

"Yeah, but boyfriends lie." She said it like it was the obvious thing, "All. The. Time."

Huh.

"What do I do?" Eleven queries.

"Listen, you're going to stop calling him– you're going to ignore his calls. As far as you're concerned, he doesn't exist"

"Doesn't exist?" Both you and El say at the same time, words pour out of your mouth before you even realise-- clearly more invested in Max's advice that you might have wanted. Max and El look at you, you clear your throat awkwardly before murmuring a little "sorry".

"Yeah," Max turns back to face El, "he treated you like garbage! You're gonna treat him like garbage– give him a taste of his own medicine"

"Give him the... medicine", El repeats the phrase a little wrong yet Max doesn't correct her and instead hums in acknowledgement.

"And if he doesn't fix this and explain himself– dump his ass", both your and your sister's eyes widened.

"C'mon", Max said, pulling Eleven off of the bed.

"Where are we going exactly?" You spoke up.

“We? You're coming too?” Max asks, the question directed towards El more so than you.

“Yes, (y/n) is coming”, she answers immediately, nodding.

"Okay we are going to have some fun, there's more to life than stupid boys, y'know."

....

You aren't sure why you are here. In a crowded bus— way too many strangers, you think– headed towards the talk of the town, the starcourt mall. You know you are breaking a rule, but you keep reminding yourself that you are there to take care of El.

When the three of you step out of the bus you are hit across the face with the fact that there are even more people. Way too many strangers. The short haired girl beside you says, almost as if voicing your concerns, "too many people… against the rules."

"Seriously? You have superpowers! What's the worst that could happen?"

…

It has been almost a month since you punched Tony Reed.

You haven't seen Hopper ever since that lunch at Benny's. Despite him having promised you to meet you more as long as you avoided fights. That was the verdict.

So far, you'd still managed to stay out of it for a month despite the bullying and sneers having increased tenfold.

It is a Wednesday morning in the middle of July, it had rained the previous night so the air is immensely humid– you are sweating your ass off. There are sweat spots on your gym t-shirt. Your shoes slip on the wet grass, you fall with a thud against the ground. A boisterous echo of laughs sounds behind you and as you turn, you see Tony Reed, with his group of friends which included Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, and many more who you haven't bothered to memorise the name of— Hawkins was full of bullies.

"Hey, you okay?"

You turn around and are met with a mop of frizzy black hair and an extended hand to help you up.

"Yeah. Fine", you mutter under your breath, not taking his helping hand.

"Hey, Munson!! That your co-freak?" Tommy shouts from across the field.

"Match made in hell!!", Tony added, and the rest of the group bursts out into an obnoxious fit of laughter. Before you know it, your hands that were just hanging by your side curl up into fists and almost involuntarily, you start walking forward towards the group of bullies.

Ever since that last fight, they have been on your ass. from spilling stuff on you to locking you in empty classrooms so you miss classes. the entire group reminds you of your brothers and sisters back at the lab. Your Papa-- Martin. Martin would make them fight you, despite knowing full well you'd lose. the lab infirmary had always been your second room more so than the rainbow room.

There is a fight. somehow, you aren't sure how though, Eddie gets involved as well.

By the time some teacher stopped it, you had bruised knuckles and a split lip, Eddie had one too and a bruise spread across his cheek. Tony had a black eye and a broken elbow. Maybe you and Eddie made a good team.

You are then called to the principal's office and are ordered to call Hopper once. The threat of being suspended from school hanging in front of you like a sword.

You call Hopper. He doesn't pick up. You call the station. Flo, the lady at the desk, tells you that he was busy but that she would convey the message as soon as she could.

You wait five hours. And then some more. The sun has already set. The sky is filled with clouds of different shades and hues of lilacs and oranges and pinks. The road is close to barren.

The principal has suspended you and Eddie for a week. His uncle had talked to the principal– the old man had offered to drop you off, the two of you did live in the same trailer park afterall. you had refused but now you wholeheartedly regret it as you look at your watch and realise how long you had been sitting on the dirty, concrete pavement. The gravel was uncomfortable, the air still humid.

But you and your stubborn ass are here waiting for Jim Hopper. At this point, you aren't even sure if he was coming. Your rusty bike stands abandoned in the stands.

As the sky was starting to get darker, you realised that you should probably get going, you shouldn't sit out in the open like this all alone. Then there was the stubborn part of you. You didn't want to move; everything was too much yet nothing at all.

Several Minutes pass. That's when you hear the sound of tires against gravel and engine revving. You look up to see the all too familiar Blazer along with the all too familiar face.

The car stops in front of you, "Hey, kid–", he tries starting while cranking the window down.

"You are six hours late", you interrupt him.

he lets out, "I'm sorry.." his fingers rub over the steering wheel, "C'mon I'll drop you off", he says with a jerk of his head towards the passenger seat.

You walk around the car to get in the passengers side, slumping down in the seat. Jim shifts the gear, driving through the streets of hawkins.

"You got in another fight?" Jim finally breaks the silence of the car, "What happened this time?" He asks before you could tell him. You almost want to be mad at him for being so oblivious to the details but you are tired and your injuries hurt– the school nurse was awful at her job. You are exhausted so you settle on explaining.

"I got suspended…", Jim's eyes flit to your face before quickly turning back onto the road, "...for a week."

The man lets out a deep sigh, "You promised that wouldn't happen"

"And you promised that you'd visit me", you can't help but add a little venom to your words.

"...ah, thats what this is about", he says, almost a mumble to himself. 

Jim doesn't say anything for the rest of the car ride. Neither do you. The air is thick with tension and you don't want to be the first one to cut it. You don't say anything when Hopper doesn't turn at the intersection he is supposed to. After a few minutes, the car stops in front of the video store and Jim finally speaks up .

"Alright kid, What's your favourite movie?" You look at him, confused, before shrugging. "What about your favourite snack?" You shrug again.

You wonder why his features soften for a second, "Okay, we need to fix that", he says turning the car off, "You need to develop some taste, kid. Expand your horizons. That make sense?"

You nod before he mutters a 'c'mon' while getting out of the car. You follow suit. You and Hopper pick out a random movie and some snacks and popcorn. Then he drives you to your trailer where you watch the movie and enjoy the sweet and salty snacks to your heart's delight.

Somewhere near the halfway mark of the movie, you fell asleep– the exhaustion of the day finally taking over. When Hopper looks back from the screen to look at you to see how much you were enjoying the movie, he notices your closed eyes, the steady rise and fall of your chest as your head was lolled to the side.

Jim immediately pauses the movie. When he looks at the time, the clock reads 9:30 p.m., he decides it was pretty late. The man moves to pick you up and carry you to your bedroom, the movement wakes you up. It isn't until he finally put you on the mattress, that you speak up.

"Hopper?" Jim hums in acknowledgement. "Is the movie over?"

"No but you need to sleep, it's getting late", he smoothens your blanket over you. "We will finish it... later?"

"Later", you echo. Jim was getting up to leave when you call out again, "Are you... leaving?"

"Yeah, kid. I'm sorry"

"You can stay", you try to bargain.

"I can't. But you'll see me later this week I promise", he turns to leave again before he notices the teddy bear sitting by the shelves. "You still got this bear?"

"Mr. Arnold", you correct him through a yawn.

"Right, right. Mr. Arnold Bearenbearer– I remember." He chuckles to himself, a smile creeping onto his face at the name he made up when he gave it to a younger scared you. the toy is old, the blue ribbon around its neck is fraying, tattered-- well-loved. it was one of Sarah's favourites, "You take good care of him?" You nod in response.

"Good, because if you take care of him..."

"he will take good care of me."

".. yeah, its like a superpower– I’ve said this all before, haven't I?”

You nod with a sleepy shy smile.

“Yeah, well I'm an old man, kid. Can't keep up.” Jim smiles and you mirror it before your features contort into another yawn. "Good night kid. Sleep tight"

"Good night."

…

You have a headache, similar to the one you'd have back when you had powers, it had subsided earlier in the day but increased again when you got to the mall. There are too many people, you ascertain as you walk behind Max and El, weaving through the crowd. Max takes El and inadvertently you, to various shops in the mall. Giggles from the two girls fill the air as they try the various things from dresses to hats and even shoes. Trying to find the super-powered girl her style, something she could call her own.

El had a grin pasted on her face and so did Max and you knew that this was going to be the start of an amazing friendship.

You are glad El was starting to find who she is– finding out what she loves and what she doesn't. and Max is the perfect person to encourage and empower her without being patronising to the girl.

In the shoe store, El is trying on a pair of high heels. Her legs wobble as she tries to strut in the shoes, losing her balance almost immediately, the girl falls to the ground. You and Max are quick to help her get up. When you look up, you see a group of girls, with a judgemental look painted upon their faces.

Your nostrils flare, fists clench and you are about to say something to the strangers. But before you can do so, the girls beside you do something that you would never have expected— they laugh. They brush it off and unapologetically laugh.

Max leads El and you towards the food court. Your ears perk at the mention of scoops ahoy. You know that Steve would probably be there, maybe you could apologise for whatever Jim had said to him. Maybe get an answer for why you couldn't get ahold of him earlier.

As you walk through the herd of people with a slight pep in your step, you try your best to follow the two girls to the ice cream parlour.

Suddenly, your shoulders knock against someone, when you turn to see who it was, you are met with a man in a security uniform.

For the split second you both look at each other, annoyance and irritation flashes on his features along with a hint of what seems to be recognition; but you don't recognise the man, you are sure of it.

Confusion in your mind is quickly swept under the rug as the two girls quickly lead you towards scoops ahoy. Thoughts of the stranger long gone.

There on the counter is Steve Harrington, who had just finished serving two young boys.

"Hey, Harrington", Max greets.

"Hey", you mouth, shyly waving towards him from behind the two girls.

"What do you guys want?", The boy gestures towards the ice cream tubs, completely ignoring your greeting and skipping all pleasantries.

The girls gave in their orders, the boy starts to scoop the strawberry and vanilla ice cream, not even sparing a glance towards you.

"What about you (y/n)?" Eleven questions.

you blink a little dumbly, "Huh?"

"Which one d'you want?", Max asks.

"I…", your voice trails off when your gaze finally met Steve's– his jaw clenches and he had an unreadable expression on his face, "I don't know... I'll take any"

Suddenly, the window slides open behind Steve, revealing a girl with short blonde hair, headphones around her neck. She whispers something to Steve and the boy says something back. The girl smiles, and she looks pretty and you couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy.

He goes scooping one for you too– the same flavour which he'd gotten for you the day before. The boy turns around with two cones of ice cream in his hands, handing them to the girls and giving you yours without even looking at you. Your fingers brush together, the boy quickly retracts his hands and turns back towards the two girls. The girls mutter a "thanks" before starting to eat the sweet goodness.

"Wait a second," for a split second his gaze flicks towards you before going back to El, "are you even allowed to be here?" He knows the answer to his own question, you aren't allowed. You know the question is directed towards you, despite him saying it to El. Yet he dares not to look at you.

Your sister and Max fall into a fit of giggles before turning to leave. Your eyes are still locked onto Steve's, the expression on his face that you couldn't decode, one you'd never seen on his face– you didn't know what it meant and oh, did you want to stay and find out. But the two girls were already almost out of the store and you were supposed to look after them.

You mutter a little "bye" before turning to leave too– almost sprinting towards the girls. The boy doesn't return your salutation and instead just looks at the direction from where you'd left.

"Hey, dingus"

"Jesus, Christ. What?" Steve flinches at the sudden appearance of Robin beside him

"I would appreciate if you tried not to burn holes into our customers", Robin says leaning against the counter, "Also I got the second sentence"

"Great."

"Okay, you know what? I'm done with this"

"With what?"

"You! You've been acting this way for two days now. What the hell is happening?"

"Nothing is happening"

"Oh, really? 'cause you look like a kicked puppy right now"

"No I don't."

"Who was that?", she quirks her brow, jerking her chin towards where you had just been, "The person you just served?"

"They were Dustin's friends", he answers as nonchalantly as he could, shrugging,

"No, dingus, the older one."

"Also, Dustin's friend"

"So why the hell did you look at 'Dustin's friend' with such a dejected look?"

"That's just how my face looks and why do you care anyway?"

His coworker sighs before turning towards the backroom once again, mumbling a raspy "whatever". She does know now that Steve's demeanour had something to do with you. She could probably discern if she investigated a bit more. But at that moment she had bigger things to decipher like a super-secret Russian code.

…

"Why did Steve look like he was mad at you?" Eleven whispers to you– ever observant.

"I don't know", you whisper back to her.

"Oh, you've gotta be shitting me", the redhead who is walking ahead of you spoke up. Your gaze follows her eyeline and you see the boy's of the party by the bike stands. "Isn't this a nice surprise!" Max exclaims sarcastically.

Mike drops his bike, stunned, "What're you doing here?" He interrogates, pointing towards El.

"Shopping." Your sister states.

"This is her new style.. what d'you think?"

"What's wrong with you? You know she's not supposed to be here", he then turns to you and points an accusatory finger towards you, "You know she's not supposed to be here"

"What is she, your pet?"

"Yeah, am I your pet?"

"What? No!"

"Why do you treat me like garbage?"

"What?"

"You said Nana was sick"

"She is!"

"Yeah, she's so sick", Lucas speaks up from behind mike.

"Which is why we're here– to shop for Nana and also we're here to get something for you but it's hard 'cause I only have three dollars and fifty cents"

"It's Super hard", Lucas backs Mike up.

You notice Will, who stands behind them, not participating in the interaction. The young boy's gaze jumping from one person to another before it finally lands on Mike.

"You lie..", Eleven starts, "Why do you lie?"

When she gets no response from Mike, she walks closer to the boy. she looks at him for a second before her head turns at the sound of the bus arriving.

"I dump your ass."

Max's, Will's and lucas' eyes go wide at your sister's declaration. Max's mouth hangs open before Eleven grabs her and you by your wrists and pulls you to the bus.

Good for her, you think.

…

It is a Saturday. It is about to be seven days since Hopper promised to finish the movie with you. You stopped wondering when his later would come.

Since you are suspended from school you offered to do more shifts at the gift shop.

Every now and then teenagers from Hawkins high and middle school come in through the doors of the shop and they give you wary looks. Of course, word travels in a small town like Hawkins like wildfire.

The day the fight happened, everyone and their mother came to know that (Y/n), who doesn't seem to have a last name, and Eddie Munson had gotten in a fight with Tony Reed.

Tony Reed was a bully, not the harmless kind either. The older boy is the type to torment someone for days on end just for his entertainment but still never face the consequences for any of his actions.

Word started travelling around: Tony Reed was moving out of Hawkins.

Maybe you should've broken his elbow sooner.

You, your coworker and your boss close up the store at around 8 in the night. The older lady offered to give you a drive home, but you, however, refused. Despite how sweet the lady seemed, you still couldn't trust anyone. So you bicycle through the empty streets under the yellow streetlights– back to the trailer-van that you call home.

When you enter the trailer park, passing the Munson's trailer, you see a very familiar vehicle standing infront of your home. Your feet peddle faster, when you finally reach the car, you leave your bicycle behind and go to the slightly open driver's window. The person's face covered with the familiar hat.

You knock on the window, the man jolts awake– a groan audible through the cracked window. He removes his hat and as soon as he meets your eyes, his face softens– a smile appearing on his face.

You step back as he opens the door. Before Jim could shut the door behind him, you run to tackle his torso.

"You came!" You hug Jim, your arms barely reaching around and touching around his frame. The man lets out an oomf at the impact.

"Of course I did. I promised, didn't I?" he says while holding the back of your head, gently patting your hair– it has grown out a lot since he first met you.

You nod against his chest, not letting go of the grasp you had on him.

"Okay, kid. I think that's enough affection for the day. How bout we get inside, finish that movie huh? I bought some of those snacks you liked", you only hug him tighter in response. Hopper chuckles, continuing to hold and caress the back of your head.

…

There is the rev of an engine, the telltale sign of the arrival of Jim Hopper.

The door flings open, then closes harshly behind the tall man. You watch him from the couch as you were browsing through channels on the TV. Jim looks at you but immediately averts his gaze, he walks a little further in the house, his movements loopy and rocky. He is drunk, extremely so– the mostly empty bottle in his hand backing up your conclusion.

Jim stops in his tracks again. "Hey!" He shouts with a little gravel in his voice, "Hey!" He repeats again, walking towards El's room where your sister and her friend are. "When I say three inches, three–"

When the door flings open, he expects to be met with the sight of El and Mike but instead he is met with her and Max reading comic books on the bedroom floor.

"Do you knock? jeez"

"Yeah, jeez!" Eleven repeats.

"Oh, hey", Jim, who seemed to be unable to respond, slurs out, "I'm sorry… I thought that you–"

"Mike's not here", Max interrupts his rambling as if reading his mind.

"Max wanted to have a… sleepover. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." Hopper nods while repeatedly saying, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah", he awkwardly looks between the two girls and then asks the redhead, "Your parents know about this?"

"Yup."

"Yeah, that's cool. That– that's really cool." The man just keeps looking at the two girls, almost spacing out in his drunken state.

"Did you need something?"

"No, no", he shakes his head, his palm reaching for the door knob. "I'll let you– I'll leave"

He stands outside the now closed door. His drunken features morph into a smirk as he grabs yet another beer can and settled himself on the armchair in front of the tv.

"'sup." You sit down on the couch beside him with a plop.

He looks over at you. "You're talking to me now?"

"Don't worry, I'm still pissed off at you but", you say, not looking at him. "I think we need to discuss some things. Have a talk"

"Great", he takes a big gulp of the beer in his hand.

"So let's start easy", you say stretching your arms. "How was work? I mean... that's where you were, right?", you say, eyes gesturing towards the most colorful shirt you'd ever seen on Hopper.

"Yeah", he slurs out.

"I'm a human lie detector, remember? I can tell when you're lying. It was the one thing I was good at, So, try and give me the truth", you assert dryly, "Were you at work?"

You barely hear it when he says, "...no"

"Where were you?"

"At a friend's…"

"Friend's what? Birthday?"

"Ye– no"

"Who was this friend?" you interrogate with narrow eyes.

"They never came"

"That wasn't my question but okay", you pause, eyes trained on him, trying to read his expression, "Even though they didn't come, who was it you were expecting?"

He takes another big swig from the can before he says all hesitant, "...Powell and... Callaghan?"

"Lie."

"Godamnit, Joyce– it was Joyce,'' he finally admits, frustrated.

"So, you were just going on a dinner with your friend Joyce"

"Like I said, she never came"

"Yeah but you were going to go on dinner with Joyce, if she'd come"

"But she didn't"

"But you wanted her to", you pause before asking, "Was this a date?"

"No!"

You both know it is lie, you don't even need to state that it is a lie, so you just look at the drunk man beside you while he takes a swig of the beer can in his hand.

"Next question", you state, folding your legs onto the sofa, "What did you say to Steve?"

"What–" Jim almost seems startled by the sudden subject change.

"Yesterday. What did you tell Steve"

"I didn't tell him anything", you look at him a little more, but this wasn't a lie. You can tell he is telling the truth. "I mean, that the boy wasn't there when I left", he further clarifies, when you don't say anything.

"Oh." is all that comes out.

"Where did you get that shirt?" The man beside you suddenly asks while you're in your thoughts.

"I've always had this", you lie. Max and El had convinced you to buy some clothes back at the mall as well.

"No– it's brand new", Hopper insists.

"So is yours Hopper–", you once again gesture towards his bright coloured shirt, "but I guess you wanted to look good for your friend Joyce, right?"

its tense, he takes another sip from his beer. after a few seconds, you sigh before getting up, "anyway, think I'm gonna teach El a new word later– hypocrite. She needs to be familiar. how does that sound?"

You don't wait for his answer to come, you get up, walk away and slam the door behind you.

...

[muzsmocsing]

Reviewing tgcf characters because I have thoughts

I finished S2 recently and I need somewhere to put my not exactly hot but like warm (?) takes because it's taking up too much storage space in my brain.

🤍 Xie Lian 🤍

It's a good thing I'm not into guys because if I was I would be on my knees for this man in every sense of that expression and his pet menace to society would mince me up like garlic.

So I'll try to be brief about my overflowing feelings about him. Xie Lian is the best main character I have come across in a WHILE. He's the embodiment of compassion and kindness. And also a cold blooded murderer. A babygirl. A father figure. A terrifying martial god. A silly little guy. A pathological liar. The most genuine man you'll ever meet. He's everything, and Hua Cheng is 100% valid in his obsession. I'm right there with him.

Rating: 10/10

❤️ Hua Cheng ❤️

Idk if we ever figured out who wrote My Immortal but I'm pretty sure we have our culprit.

"Hi my name is Hua Cheng Crimson Rain Sought Flower Red-Robed Ghost King and this is my evil weapon of death E-ming. I've killed soooo many gods with it!! My dark power is I can summon storms of BLOOD and SUFFERING. I have my own scary city of DEMONS and they all love me and think I'm HOT but I only want my BOYFRIEND who's the only REAL GOD so STOP FLAMING HIM YOU POSERS-"

Needless to say I love him. Being the 8 time winner of the Loverboy of the Century Awards with unbeatable records in the yearning olympics is truly a remarkable feat.

Rating: 9/10

(Bonus: E-ming. Cute little guy. Likes his stepdad more than his real dad. Not afraid to show it's feelings even if it makes it look like a muppet, 10/10)

🧡 Feng Xin & Mu Qing 🧡

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum gets a shared rating because they would hate to be grouped together like that and that's funny to me. Their dynamic is great, they're good characters, I wasn't sure which one was which until midway through the second season. But then also I have a pair of 7yo twin cousins who I still can't tell apart despite them not looking even a slight bit similar so that might just be a character flaw on my end. Oops.

Rating: 7/10

🩵Shi Qingxuan🩵

I'm doubling the rating because she is best boy and best girl at the same time. I love that I can use any and all pronouns for him because he's literally a pride parade personified and therefore all of them are correct. You don't get that type of chaotic fun just anywhere.

He is truly living my dream, presenting as whatever gender they want depending on what's more convenient and/or funnier in the moment. Super useful, for things like gathering intel and terrorizing Feng Xin by being a woman.

And I personally think we should crown her the new emperor. She'd look significantly better on that throne, with her Barbie-like radiance and flourishing Kenergy.

Rating: 20/10

🖤 Ming Yi 🖤

Listen, I hate to say it because I like a sunshine x grump moment as much as the next gay but he's just... not giving what he thinks he's giving. Everyone is whispering ominously about him having some dark devastating secret but MY point is no matter how big his boobs are in his female form, Shi Qingxuan could do better. I'm sorry. She really could.

Rating: 4/10

💙 Lang Qianqiu 💙

Just an honest man with good intentions and a sickass fucking sword. He did NOT hesitate to attack the infamous Crimson Rain Sought Flower on SIGHT and I respect a quick decisionmaker, even if it shows some himbo tendencies. He also has the same distinct energy as Fred from Scooby Doo.

Rating: 6/10

💚 Qi Rong 💚

He's got some odd dietary and moral choices going on. Definitely. But he's just such a fun villain!!! Being Xie Lian's nr 1 source of migraines SHOULD make me like him less but I'm sorry, every time he was on screen I was LIVING. He would do numbers on reality TV. Someone put this guy on Kitchen Nightmares, I need to see him 1v1 Gordon Ramsay.

Rating: 7/10

🌚 Jun Wu 🌚

He has his emperor status & DILF card going for him but something about this man just ain't right. If he came to a party I was attending I would cover my drink is all I'm saying.

Rating: 2/10

🔥Pei Ming🔥

I don't know much about him besides he had that one shady empolyee or whatever (could not hear the plot over the deafening sound of Hua Cheng's yearning) but I'm partial to a good manwhore character. The thought of people praying to him like "Hugh Mungus, who art in heaven-" really tickles me.

I know he's probably straight but I headcanon him as at the very least bi-curious because you can't be that hot with that much game and not use it for evil. (That evil being causing large scale gay awakenings among his soldiers.)

Rating: 7/10

❓Pei Xiu❓

Unreliable, unimportant, unattractive, unemployed.

I remember not a singular thing about him besides fucking up Xie Lian's daughter's life and also being on my last nerve from the jump. If you're going to be evil at like least be memorable about it, you know? You can't be a bad person and a bad character at the same time. Pick a struggle.

Rating: 1/10

📚 Ling Wen 📚

I heard she committed some war crimes but honestly if I had to do an entire realm's tax returns by myself AND teach Pei Ming how to read (I refuse to believe that man is literate, just look at him) I would want to rage on occasion too. I hope she has a hot wife waiting for her at home to give her massages after carrying the whole system on her back all day. It's what she deserves.

Rating: 8/10

Thank you for reading!! Opinions might change once I read the books but as of now this is it. Remembering everyone's names has been a journey and a half so this post is sponsored by @kirstenly 's character cheat sheet go look at it! and everything else too!!!

[luveline]

hi hi lovely girl, can I please request more for Eddie and his daughter Roan? I'd love to see more from before Eddie and reader are dating, where Roan acts like a leech on a date and Eddie's both embarrassed and amazed? thank u! 🧡

ty for ur request!!!! single dad Eddie FOREVER ♥︎ eddie and roan | fem!reader

Eddie's sick to his stomach. Like, threw up before he came, nearly called you to cancel type sick. He didn't cancel because he's not dumb, he knows that the first few dates are the most vital, and he also thinks it would've been worse than just showing up. So he's here, outside of Morgan's dessert emporium for your third date, and he has an excited Roan in his lap. 

She's in her second nicest outfit, having already worn the first for the first date, and then again for the second. Her hair is in primly done bunches that he knows from experience won't look so prim in about half an hour, the hair ties a cherry pink to match her pretty dress. 

"Roanie, Roanie, macaroni," he sings under his breath, one of his hands encapsulating hers, swaying her chubby arm from one side to the other. He's looking out the window as he does, waiting for you to arrive. "Roanie, Roanie, Ro. Roanie, Roanie, macaroni, where'd your macaroni go?" 

She cheers, "I ate it!" in her clumsy baby voice. 

He squeezes her tiny cheek in tender fingers. "You did. My big girl ate all her dinner after daycare, because you're the best." 

She climbs up to stand on his thigh, Mary Jane's he'd scrubbed clean earlier digging into his muscle. Or lack thereof. He doesn't exactly work out. 

"When can we have– have cake?" she asks, rubbing her cheek into his. 

He knows she's trying to be sweet. Too bad she almost knocks his front teeth out. He groans and drops his head into her shoulder, and she takes that for a hug. 

"Thanks," he mumbles, big hand covering nearly the entirety of her back. "Cake? We're gonna have cake right now, babe, two minutes." 

"You 'lready said two minutes," she says. 

"I already said two minutes?" he asks. She pulls away to frown at him. "I did. Those two minutes are going super slow today, babe, that's not my fault, that's gravity." 

She stares at him. He stares at her. You knock on the window and startle him out of his skin, though Roan isn't nearly so surprised. She sets her gaze on you through the dusty glass window and her lashes kiss the skin under her eyebrows, her eyes are that wide. 

Eddie doesn't know if Roan knows your name, but she knows your face, throwing herself at the window with a great, electrifying squeal. 

"Can I open the door?" you ask. You must be speaking loudly to be heard through glass and Roan's excitement. 

He meets your eyes by accident and can't look away. "Yeah!" he shouts, and then winces. He can open the door himself. Loser, he thinks. You fucking loser. 

The very first thing that had endeared him to you does the trick again: you're smiling like you aren't sure you should be smiling at all, more nervous energy than a bus of sixth graders on their first day of middle school, and he's a goner immediately. 

Roan holds her hands out insistently and you hesitate to pick her up, waiting for his cue. When he nods enthusiastically you pull her up into your chest, graceless but well meaning. She takes your shoulders into small hands and stares at you, speechless. 

It's not often Roan Munson finds herself with nothing to say. She's the chattiest girl alive now that words are in her palm, even if she's speaking straight gibberish. 

"Hey, princess" you say, in your best approximation of a kid friendly voice, which isn't half bad, "Your daddy's got you all dressed up again, oh my goodness!" 

Eddie gets out of the car and tries to retuck his shirt before you notice. 

"Why was she in your lap?" 

"What?" he asks, looking up, one eye squinted against the sun as it slinks behind the emporium.

"You don't drive around with her in your lap, right?" Your hands tighten in Roan's dress. "I mean– oh, I'm so sorry, not that you aren't safe–" You clear your throat. "I just mean, why was she in your lap? Obviously you don't drive around with her there. Unless you do." 

He leaps in to save you, grateful that it's his saving you and not you saving him. "No, no, God, I strap her into her car seat. We were just waiting for you, that's all." 

"Oh my gosh," you mumble, hiding your face in Roan's hair. "Well, that's good, isn't it? Can't embarrass myself anymore than that." 

His relief starts to course in. While Eddie finds you funny and charming and so, so pretty, he'd forgotten the best thing about you — you're a loser, too. A huge dork, and a bona fide softie. 

"Roan, you smell really nice." Your voice softens into some bubbly baby talk. "You smell yummy, almost as yummy as the emporium. I hope you and dad left room for cake." 

"Chocolate," Roan says happily. 

"Exactly." You smile up at him over her head. "Ready? I got a reservation by the ice cream, so Roan can watch them scoop it." You wiggle your eyebrows. 

Roan is as mystified by the scoops as you'd thought, pulling against Eddie's loose grip on her waist and whining to be let down. 

"Baby, we need to stay in our seats," he says, "so they know where to bring the cake." 

He's telling the truth, mostly. It's been a long day and he doesn't wanna chase her around the room for the next half an hour. 

"I can take her up to look?" you offer.

"No, you don't have to," he says. 

"I'd like to. If that's okay?"

Eddie waves you off before he can think any better of it. You've plenty of time to talk. You've called him at home just to call him twice now, so he isn't too worried. He thinks things are going well. 

You and Roan fast walk to the front of the parlour and watch the dessert makers scoop ice cream, blend milkshakes, and drizzle cake with melted chocolate. Roan says something, too far away for Eddie to hear, but you laugh and crouch down on your knees, your hand behind her back. Your other hand points at one of the dessert makers as they roll a waffle cone. 

"You want one of those, too?" he hears you ask. 

Yeah, Eddie would say things are going real well. 

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Beg For It [21]

TW: smut :P

_______________

dacnorthxx started following you.

sallysusedtoiletpaper: VI WHO IS THIS WHO IS NORTH WHY IS THIS INTERACTION GIVING ME LIFE??? t0ddles2: @sallysusedtoiletpaper frontman of dark autumn complex sallysusedtoiletpaper: @t0ddles2 oh omg ok... I've never heard of them are they any good?? ashypoops: I haven't heard of them either. What genre? More importantly DOES VI HAVE HER VERY FIRST SHIP toodswithoutthed: @ashypoops I WAS ABOUT TO ASK BC THE CHEMISTRY!?!? they're obsessed w each other... I went stalk his profile. Ship name options: northlence, violeth... t0ddles2: they're rock/metal. even if u don't like the genre, they're worth a listen sallysusedtoiletpaper: WORD I just followed him and their band account >:3 also @toodswithoutthed I'm personally a fan of violeth. I'm linking this shit in the faces fan discord ashypoops: THERE'S A FAN DISCORD??? can u send me an invite pooks🥺 sallysusedtoiletpaper: @ashypoops ofc😘 sallysusedtoiletpaper: OMFG SOMEONE BEAT ME TO THE CHAT EVERYONE KNOWS NOOOOOO

———

Yea, so I lost my job. Big shocker.

Once my boss found out that I dipped mid-shift, the text was typed out and sent by the evening.

In any other situation, I'd be fucked. Indefinitely. Completely broke and flailing to get a new job. In fact, that was my first thought. As soon as I got the text, I clicked onto my bank account to check how much I'd have to live off of until I found a new job--

--only to find out that I had over $2,000 just sitting around, which was such a nice surprise. I don't think I've ever had so much money to my name before in my entire life. And all the transactions were straight from all my streaming apps. All within the past two weeks since being back in LA.

To say the least, losing my job couldn't have happened at a better time. Now, I can put my focus into something I actually enjoy doing.

But first, a trip to Nockfell, which is proving to be more chaotic by the second.

"Todd, dude, there's a chemistry to this thing, okay? It's a ritual," Larry says, all seriousness and business face as he stares back into Todd's uninterested gaze. "I can't fly without it."

Todd blinks, a flash of frustrated disappointment crossing over his features. "You're not taking an edible before the flight, Lartholomew."

Ash had a ticket ready for me before she even got to LA yesterday. Her entire mastermind plan was to abduct me whether I liked it or not-- not that I would've said no to begin with. And besides, having her at the apartment to help me pack last minute made pre-flight stress non-existent.

Travis is camping out at my apartment. He was more than happy to kick me out of my own house, claiming that my bed is comfiest anyway. Regardless, he said he had no desire to return to Nockfell anyway. And dad was just excited for me to go visit considering how much I've complained about missing the little town over all these years.

Sal and I haven't spoken since his last commanding text to me. Right before his very sudden face reveal. He's caught in an almost petrifying silence-- has been since he put his prosthetic back on. I, on the other hand, very much resemble a little puppy whimpering and begging at his feet. Metaphorically, of course. I wouldn't dare to physically exploit my internal thoughts.

The really sickening truth is that I'm so desperate to see his face again that I'd trip him down a flight of stairs just to recreate yesterday's scene.

Just kidding. I don't mean that. I definitely don't.

"All our seats are kind of screwed up, so I have no idea where you're sitting, sugar." Ash pokes my cheek, her chin in her palm and elbow propped on the armrest of her seat. "I bought them kind of last minute so I took whatever they had available."

A little smile tips my lips as I turn my attention away from the grumpy smurf and focus on my stunning best friend. Her viridian irises glow with renewed joy and energy like our plans check off so many bullet points on her bucket list. "That's okay," I reply, tilting my head. "At least we actually have seats, right?"

Ash grins, her maroon shaded lips accentuating the light freckles along the bridge of her nose. "See?" she chirps, arm winding through mine to pull me closer. "You get it. When do you not get it?"

Our plane calls for us to board, and so begins the toxic, anxiety-inducing split-up of the century. I lose all The Faces somewhere in the crowded line that gathers at our gate in just a matter of seconds. That's okay though, I'll probably end up sitting with some old lady that smells like an odd mixture of peonies, Dial soap, and Lysol. You know, a funeral home and two colds away from death. So long as she's nice, I'll catch her dentures when they fall out of her gaping mouth as she naps.

Anything for MawMaw.

I hobble my way into the plane, brain set on finding my seat before stressing about all other one hundred and fifty two things I have to worry about later. People are everywhere and it's, expectedly, a huge plane. Three rows-- two seaters against each wall and a row of three seats down the middle. Sickening, really. Social anxiety's worst enemy is looking for means of escape only to be met by even more people.

I block everyone out as best as I can, pretending that the people I bump into are just very dense pieces of furniture. Or, actually, even better-- a bunch of really buff kitties. Yep, just passing through a horde of Maine Coon's and Munchkin's.

I spot row F, my pupils zeroing in on the letter like a scope on a gun. Target acquired.

The majestic way I veer around what my mind imagines is a really tall Siamese and their spouse, a yellow Persian, is something that the directors of The Matrix are pissed that they couldn't come up with. I swing my foot around a figurative pair of paws and reach my free hand out to grip onto my seat-- F20. That's right bitches, I did it.

I swing my suitcase up, somehow managing to actually get it into the overhead compartment. I give it a good shove with both of my hands and a grunt, then pull the backpack off my shoulders to keep it at my feet when I sit down.

But now that I've stopped, cats are pushing past me and it's so aggressive and rushed that they suddenly aren't sweet, fluffy kitties anymore. They're people again and I'm starting to get dragged away from my seat by this sea of shared distress.

Nimble fingers latch onto my wrist from the seat beside mine-- the seat against the window. The hand tightens around me, giving my body a good yank forward. I use the aided force to weave my way around a few more people up until the hand pulls me into my seat.

I huff out a breath, pushing my hair out of the eyeholes of my mask. And begrudgingly, I turn my head to meet bright cerulean hair.

Sal isn't looking at me, he's facing the window. His entire stature gives off a mixture of unbothered and ashamed. He shouldn't feel that second one-- never. Granted, he shouldn't feel angry half as much as he does but that's besides the point.

Ever since it happened, I could tell that the abrupt exposure of his face has been heavily weighing on him. I don't owe this man a single thing-- he's been awful to me in so many ways, but I give credit where credit is due. Not only did he own up and apologize to me yesterday, he helped me to my seat... and he is handsome. Regardless of how he views himself.

He's my biggest enemy and I, his. But if I plan on getting fucked during my visit to Nockfell, I have to give him the Beating of Truth.

"So," I mumble, chewing on the inside of my cheek. If you couldn't tell, I'm absolutely forcing myself to do this even though it's the last thing I want to do. "How are we working around Ash, Larry, and Todd when we get to Nockfell?"

Sal's head tips up a bit, like he's wondering to himself if I actually just spoke to him. Then his head pivots sideways so that he can side-eye me.

"What?" He asks, voice genuinely shocked and confused. It makes my heart stutter a bit. Any time he speaks in a tone that isn't aggressive, it completely reboots my system.

"How are we going to follow through with this arrangement?" I try again, simplifying it into Sal terms. He has a wide vocabulary range; maybe using bigger words will snap some sense into him. For added effect, I lean onto the armrest separating him and I, trying to show that he doesn't repulse me or anything of the sort.

Sal doesn't move away, instead, he adjusts his body so that he can address me. Fully turns his prosthetic face to me and settles into his seat. I didn't realize how tense he was when I first sat down, but watching him relax now shows me how much my simple mention of our agreement settled his mental turmoil.

He's quiet for a moment, eyes dancing across my mask and body before his gaze meets mine again. "You still want to?" he finally decides to ask, eyebrows lifting beneath his prosthetic.

"Yea," I snort, scrunching my nose up as if his question is ridiculous. "Why wouldn't I?"

Okay, stupid question. I know the answer and the words came out before I could stop them. In more ways than others, that was a genuine response though. I can't accept that Sal would be so put off by his own appearance because I truly think it's so lovely. I have to remember though that not everyone sees themselves the way I see them though.

Sal's brows bunch together again, his eyes narrowing. "Stupid fucking question," he echoes my own thoughts, voice even and void of tone. Whoopsie.

I roll my own eyes, sighing. "Well, to settle the whole debacle," I start, aiming to just bite the bullet and extinguish the awkwardness and misplaced fear vibrating between us. "I think you're quite the catch."

Friendly banter is weird. Borderline uncomfortable, but... not quite. Just so that I'm ready to get this over with but I'd be prepared for it to happen again.

A nasally snort leaves Sal and he rotates his head so that he's facing the pair of seats in front of us.

"So," he prods, ignoring my statement. "North?"

Mission success. I know he'll never admit it and he doesn't need to, but I think he appreciates the compliment.

"What's it to you?" I counter, adjusting my position in turn. I sit criss-cross applesauce in my seat, making sure my feet don't touch Sal because God forbid. "You still get to fuck me."

"Not much," he says lowly, hand moving to ruffle up his fringe. There's that dagger tattoo again. And then his head tilts just a bit, haunting sapphire blue piercing straight through my soul like the weapon etched onto his skin. "But you're mine. North can't give you even an ounce of what I can."

Fuzzy fingers, a pounding heart, and the worst case of cold sweats possible dominates my body for the rest of the flight. My brain replays that statement over and over again, plaguing me with recurring physical reactions like I've just heard it in real life again. I wish he hadn't said anything at all if it was going to leave me like this.

Neither of us said another word. The only sound between the two of us was the constant cracking of my knuckles accompanied by me putting my feet on the ground-- then sitting criss-cross again-- then having to readjust again and again and again. He left me quite literally restless and I'm sure he's relishing in just the knowledge of it.

Landing in Nockfell was a quick divergence from bubbly hearted affliction in my being. A good distraction from Sal.

Perpetual autumn. Nockfell never gets too hot or cold. The air is always misty, the sky always grey and cloudy. Tall, ever-growing trees dominate both night and day, stealing all the light from the sun and hiding it in their leafy treetops. Nockfell houses the kind of atmosphere that I've dreamt of returning to for years now; the gentle eeriness and chill that I've longed to bask in ever since I left.

We step out of the airport and into the small parking lot where a suspiciously blue haired man is waving at us with a big, dad-like grin on his face. Not a question in my mind. That's Sal's dad-- the cropped, receding cerulean hair was the first obvious sign but as we grow closer, his bright azure eyes are the second giveaway.

"Wassup, daddio!" Larry exclaims, wrapping Sal's father up in a huge bear hug (which is so Emo Buff Daddy of him). I nearly forgot that Sal's dad, who I now know as Henry, is also Larry's step-dad. Crazy.

"Not much, big guy!" Henry chuckles, rubbing Larry's back affectionately once the hug comes to an end. He pats Larry's shoulder, that big smile still on his aged face. "You guys brought the friend back! Convinced her to come huff up our humid air?"

Henry moves over to Ash, Todd, and then Sal to hug all of them. He purposefully places a discreet kiss on top of Sal's head before turning to me.

He holds his arms open suggestively and my heart flutters. "You okay with hugs?" He asks me. "Everyone's family here."

A grin of my own sneaks onto my face as I take a little step toward Henry and wrap my arms around his middle.

Henry's arms latch around my body, shielding me from the moist, heavy air of Nockfell and anything else that could possibly hurt me here. His embrace is so comforting, so familiar, so protective that tears I've been holding back for weeks suddenly rush to the surface.

I love my own dad, he's perfect, but being hugged by his near doppelgänger reminds me of how much I miss him. I wish dad and I weren't apart so often. But that'll change soon with the money I'm making.

I don't allow myself to weep, I hide the tears and pull away from the comforting hug I needed so desperately to smile sweetly at Henry. Lovely man, his own smile widens.

The group of us piles into Henry's old 2000 Nissan Pathfinder to navigate around Nockfell.

We first stop at Ash's place-- a home I haven't seen in a decade now. Everything is so nostalgic-- the tall, two story, white-painted, wooden home and the canopy of evil-looking trees that hide it from the road reminds me of a time that's been ripped away from me.

Ash leans on the door of Henry's SUV, the window down for her to speak to me before she disappears. "I'll come by Sal's or the apartments later to scoop you up, 'kay? Parents and I have a meeting with some guys to transfer ownership of some things to me before the move." She chews on her lip, a deep yearning in her pretty eyes. "I'd let you stay with me if I could."

I shake my head at her-- I don't want her to feel guilty for handling business. "No that's okay." I tell her sweetly, grabbing onto her hand. "I'll kickback with the guys."

Ash smiles, squeezing my hand in hers before breaking off to head to her house.

Now, I never imagined I'd end up coming back to Nockfell in general, but to stand in Sal Fisher's home? These were even more improbable odds.

And worse, Todd suddenly slips out of the house with the very mean (he's ditching me!) excuse of meeting with Neil for a late lunch. That just leaves me, Larry, and Sal standing in the spacious kitchen of their shared two-story home. It's quaint, roomy, and pretty nice. I imagine it's kept up specifically because Sal tends to it.

And Sal, he doesn't say anything. Which is typical behavior from him. He only, swiftly, spins on his heels, luggage in hand, and disappears into a room right past the stairs. Okay, fair. It's late in the afternoon-- naptime.

And now it's down to two.

I look to Larry with a grin. And he's grinning back excitedly, wiggling around like an antsy child who's about to go on a field trip.

"I can't believe we managed to get you over here," he whisper-yells, screaming silently. You know, just open-mouthed and head tipped to the ceiling in pure excitement.

"Even Copernicus wouldn't be able to debunk this turn of events," I joke, watching Larry dance around his kitchen. I put my bags down. I'm sure we'll figure out this situation later when Ash returns.

Larry opens up his refrigerator, moving around some bottles before uttering an expletive. "Ah, fuck," he hisses out, quickly lifting his head which results in him slamming said head into the freezer door. I pause, wincing, eyeing his silhouette warily while awaiting whatever he has to say next.

He resurfaces from the fridge, rubbing his aching head and chewing on his bottom lip. "I left my fucking bags in Henry's car." He curses again, glancing up at me with agitated eyes. "I have to run over to the apartments real quick." Larry starts inching away from the fridge and I feel my heart leap. How could he forget his luggage in the car? And is he really about to leave me here with the master of aggressive seduction himself? We're bound to tear this house apart either via sex or a physical fight. I just don't know which one.

"I'll be like... ten minutes at most," Lar says, squeezing past me and around the kitchen table, rerouting to the front door. He gives me a look that screams vulnerability and urgency. "Please don't kill Sal, and don't let him kill you. Okay? I'll be back in a jiffy."

I blink at him, running my tongue along the inside of my dry mouth. This is not going to go well. "Okay," I say anyway. I can already see the headline on the newspaper-- 'Masked Streamer, Sally Face, Brutally Murders and Chops Up Rising Streamer, VioletViolence, With Kitchen Knife.'

Larry nods at me, pinches his lips together in a moment of concerned hesitation, then disappears through the front door.

I stand in the empty kitchen for a moment, watching the back of Larry's head through the front door window. "In a jiffy..." I murmur to myself, recalling the most soccer-mom words I've ever heard come from Larry's vicinity. It was so odd, I mean he would never say something like that, but here we are.

The house is empty aside from myself and Sal. What the hell am I supposed to do? Watch The Office?-- well, that actually doesn't sound bad at all.

I can literally do anything I want, though. I have been given the most opportune opportunity to act upon my will as I see fit. With that in mind accompanied by the suspiciously good conversation a certain blue-haired individual and I shared on the plane, I think I have an idea of what I could do. And I know I'll have a willing partner. 

This will either end in a homicide via kitchen knife or an orgasm. I'll take my chances.

A sly little grin fights its way onto my lips as I spin on my heels, trekking over to Sal's room. His door is closed, giving him an ample amount of darkness to hide in while gaming or sleeping or whatever he's doing. But for me, it's the ample amount of darkness to create a moody setting. It's perfect.

The cold, metal doorknob sits comfortably in the palm of my hand as I give myself one last chance to think about this. I really shouldn't do this, but the timing will never be this good again. With everyone moving to LA, I may never get a chance this convenient since someone will always be around.

That's the last little bit of encouragement I need to twist the knob and slowly push the plain, white painted door open.

The wood squeaks on its hinges, making Sal turn his head up from his PC. His dark, shadowed eyes meet mine. They go from curious to a bit miffed in half a second— but he doesn't say anything, really just ignores me and turns back to his setup.

My heart races. He didn't turn me away or tell me to get the fuck out of his room. That's a good start. But that also means I can actually follow through with my very sudden plan— a plan which has no plan. I didn't even brainstorm what I could do because I genuinely didn't think I'd get this far.

I watch him closely, noting the way his computer casts a cool, blue glow against his prosthetic. His hand moves the mouse around and he clicks on various things, really paying me no mind at all.

My teeth clamp onto my bottom lip as I step past the threshold of his room, grabbing hold of the door and slowly closing it behind me. Once it latches into place, I wait, simply observing the man with my back to the door. For good measure, I turn the lock. You know, just in case I manage to get somewhere.

And he still doesn't look my way. The fact that he's ignoring my presence right now makes anticipation build up within me. My heart thumps a little faster than it already has been. My cheeks feel warm, I can't keep my hands still. It's like my brain is kicked into overdrive, forcing me to take notice of every little thing.

I lick my lips and take a step forward, scratching at the skin on my knuckles. I take another step, then another, my body growing warm with anxiousness all because I may stand in front of this man, present myself to him, and come to regret it. I really might embarrass myself. Just because we agreed doesn't mean he wants me at this exact moment.

But before I'm even really prepared, I'm standing right beside him. And he's sitting there without a care in the world, comfortably propped up in his gaming chair and pulling up different comments on what looks to be YouTube.

I've done about all I can for right now, but we are on limited time. So I watch him for a moment. He has to know I'm right here— I wasn't quiet, I didn't avoid his field of vision. I'm right here.

And I still get nothing.

Time to think. Should I say something insulting? That usually gets him riled up. Maybe then, one thing will lead to another.

I bounce on my heels for a second as I think up a quick insult. "Is this how you waste your time? Figured you'd at least reply to some of your fans if you were going to read their comments. Kinda shitty of you." Low blow probably. I don't really mean it, but I'm sure he'll take it seriously. His fans mean a lot to him, it's the best way to gain his attention.

But Sal doesn't even react, only scrolls through a few replies under a comment and clicks 'like' on a some. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't look at me. Never makes a sound.

I roll my eyes. Playing hard to get are we? He fusses at me for not complying all the time— he's such a hypocritical asshole. I hate that I'm into it.

I swallow thickly, putting my hands behind my back to try and hide my nervous fidgeting. "Sal," I try, cringing a bit. That was desperation— he has to know that.

Again, nothing.

He really must be trying to piss me off, that or he isn't interested at all. But thankfully, the zero interest half doesn't stink like I was afraid it would. Instead, it spurs me into action.

He can ignore my words all he wants, but he can't ignore me.

"I'm going to touch you," I warn because consent is important. "If you don't want that, you need to tell me."

I wait a good thirty seconds but he stays silent.

I pinch my lips together then grab onto the armrest of his chair, pulling it back just enough to place my body between him and his computer. He simply looks up at me with disinterested eyes, so I go further, fueled by the spark in my soul and the rage of him purposefully pretending I'm not even there.

I take a step forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder for balance, then easily slide myself onto his lap. His thighs are warm beneath my own, his skin smooth under my fingertips. The dark ink on his biceps contrasts beautifully with the milky color of his skin and it's quite an honor to finally run my hands over his art.

I watch the way my fingers drag down his arm then up again, returning to his shoulder. I'm on top of him and he still hasn't said a word, still hasn't touched me. At this point, I'm yearning for something— anything.

The only good sign I'm getting is that he hasn't pushed me off.

I glance up, looking into his blue eyes that are darkened by the shadows of his room. They're watching me closely, no ounce of emotion reflected in them. He's just observing.

My other hand travels to his prosthetic face, gripping onto his jaw in the way that he does to me so often. "Think you can ignore me?" I whisper, a little smirk quirking my lips despite how badly I wish I could contain it.

A slight furrowing of his brows is what I get in return.

Ha, got him.

He still doesn't say anything, but I've piqued his interest at least.

"Larry's gone," I say next, my eyes traveling to the rough prosthetic in my hands. I run my thumb over the underside of his jaw, feeling a number of scars.

"I assumed so," he says, voice a bit deeper than it normally would be and toneless like it seems to have been all day.

My gaze meets his again, and this time there's a little fire in his pretty eyes. There's desire, interest, slow-building exhilaration. I love seeing this look on him.

"Mhm," I hum, moving my other hand from his shoulder to the side of his neck. "Are you going to sit here and ignore me like the asshole you are, or are you going to have mercy on both of us?"

Sal slowly blinks, eyes traveling over my form, drinking me in like I'm the last drop of water on earth. "You called me an asshole for a reason," he bites out. "Don't expect much. Unlike you, I can actually hold out."

"But what's the point of holding out?" I counter, tilting my head to the left. "Larry's heading to the apartments. We have about ten minutes. That's enough room for one of a couple options. Stop being a little prick and do something."

"More like twenty. Larry takes his sweet ass time." Sal's eyes narrow. "You think insulting me is going to coerce me into this, you little bitch? Thought you knew our dynamic well enough by now." My words are getting to him. That's exactly what I want.

"I do know our dynamic," I whisper, leaning my head down so that my face is level with his. I look into his cerulean eyes and they gaze back at me, one pupil dilated. Then, I bend lower until I'm at the nape of his neck, his hair tickling my jaw.

I use the hand holding his face to tilt his head up and away from me, using the angle as leverage to place my lips onto his warm skin.

I hear a muffled sigh from him in response and it takes everything in me not to smile.

My mouth moves slowly along the side of his neck, placing meaningful, wet kisses along his throat. But when I get to the hilt of his tattoo, I bit down gently.

He flinches at the feeling of my teeth digging into his skin, then completely aborts his mission to ignore me completely.

Sal's hands fly to my waist, one gripping tightly onto my hip and the other trailing up my back and into my hair, gripping the strands tightly before yanking my head back.

My teeth are ripped from his neck immediately and Sal pulls me away from him by the base of my neck. I gasp, staring into his captivating azure eyes from just centimeters away. His prosthetic nose bumps my mask's and he holds me there without a word.

His eyes trail down my face and heavy breaths follow his gaze. His cold fingers are curled into my neck, his nails digging into my skin.

I swallow, wondering if maybe I should have just minded my own business, stayed in the living room and waited for Larry to come back. Maybe I pissed him off.

I lick my lips and blink at him, my mouth gapes open as I try to find something to say. He's silent. It's not awkward, just scary. Scary is ten times worse.

Sal must see the regret and fear in my eyes because his own eyes lessen their harsh glare a bit and then he rasps out, "Can I touch you?"

Every inch of my body goes rigid with shock, anticipation. "Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My fingers tighten ever so slightly on the underside of his jaw while my heart runs an entire marathon in my chest. Now is not the time to get nervous because I sweat when I'm nervous. I need to be horny– not nervous.

Sal takes a deep breath, eyes set on mine. I feel his chest rise ever so slowly, then go back down the same exact way. The pause between us is utter agony and I feel like I'm going to start spazzing out or something. Honestly, with the way I'm sitting on top of him, I might just fall over and die on the spot. That feels less incriminating than whatever is about to ensue.

Cool fingers grasp onto my thigh, his palm flattening against my skin. His hand drags up to my side, followed by his other hand leaving my neck to grab the other side of my waist. The feeling of him touching me, just like he'd asked, fills me with memories I tried so desperately to forget just a couple weeks or so ago. This is deja vu in the best way.

In one swift motion, Sal lifts me up and plops me on top of his desk. I brace myself with my hands on either side of his keyboard that lays behind me. Questions of concern start flowing through my brain because this is an odd place to be.

"Don't knock over my shit," Sal breathlessly informs, eyes glancing up to me. HIs hands move to the waist band of my bottoms and I suck in another anxious, anticipatory breath.

I nod quickly, watching him with wide eyes as he looks down at my waist, his hands circling to the front of my stomach and fumbling with the button of my shorts. Oh my gosh.

I gulp, looking at anything but the man between my legs, currently pulling down the shorts I'd traveled in. His cold fingers brush along the outside of my thighs, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin. He's slow, purposeful, dragging this out to get whatever reaction out of me that he can. It feels like my heart is about to explode.

I have no idea what he's about to do, he doesn't warn me either. I don't have the guts to watch this scene play out. The prospect of his dilated pupils, messy hair, and that glare in his captivating eyes is too much-- so much that warmth pools between my thighs before he can initiate anything.

"You look scared," he murmurs and I flinch at the gentle, comforting tone he uses with me. I've never heard something such as this come from him and be directed at mebefore.

"I am," I answer honestly, licking my lips while his fingers slowly pull my shorts down my legs. I lift myself a bit to aid him, shivering when my bare legs meet the cold surface of his desk. "A bit."

"Why?" Sal asks, hands pressing onto my thighs. With how warm my skin is and how cool his fingers are, the contrasting temperature is enough to spark an aneurysm. He drags those hands of his up my legs until he reaches my panties, hooking his digits into them.

I shake my head, chin quite literally tilted up to the ceiling. I'm not quite sure what has me so scared. Am I afraid of myself? Him? Getting caught? Being dropped again?

One risky hand leaves my hip and Sal's prosthetic comes into view. He's hovering over me, in a standing position now. His hair falls onto my shoulders, shielding us from the rest of the world like a curtain. I blink up at him, breath caught in my throat as a rush of chills invades my body.

"Hey," he says. His voice is a bit on edge, but it's concerned. So concerned that it distracts me from my own fear for a moment. "You're okay," he continues, his hand gripping onto my chin and pulling my head down so we can be eye level. I look between his bright eyes-- his eyebrows are risen a bit, as if to communicate to me that I can trust him. But can I?

"I'll take care of you. If you want to stop, if you don't want to start-- let me know. Say anything and I'll end it immediately." He tilts his head a bit, eyes glancing over my face. This is different. This looks vulnerable. "If I made you uncomfortable at all, I--"

My head shakes in opposition. I don't even have to think about it. "No, it's not that. It-- I trust you." The words spew out of my mouth and I immediately regret it. Something smug takes over his expression and I press my lips together, grabbing onto his wrist connected to the hand that's still holding my chin. "I trust you with this. If I was tied to train tracks, I wouldn't even think of calling you." I narrow my eyes at him to exemplify my point. His eyes squint as if he's... smiling? I'll ignore that. "But you've never... made me uncomfortable. You always ask. You always check. So..."

I watch him nod slowly, our gazes never disconnecting. He seems to contemplate what I've said, measurably formulating his next move. "Do you want to talk about what's stressing you then?"

My head rears back and my eyebrows furrow, his hand falling away from my face. "What brain eating amoeba has overtaken you?" I blurt out, holding a hand out between us. It's incredibly odd-- this is out of place. "You are never concerned about me-- what is this?"

If you can't tell, I'm not a fan of change. I greatly prefer stability even if it's toxic.

Sal drops the caring act almost immediately, his eyes rolling so hard that I'm worried they'll sink into his body. "I can't go down on you if you're freaked, can I? I wouldn't even feel comfortable doing that. I'm an asshole, not a monster."

I pause, every facial feature relaxing as his statement slaps me in the face. Key words: go, down, on, you, asshole, monster. Yep, only monstrous assholes go down on their enemies. I'm the very brave, very eager, very shocked recipient of this going down.

I take a deep, shaky breath, blinking at Sal who watches me with what looks like a raised eyebrow. "Okay," I breathlessly whisper. "How are you-- are you..." Why am I rambling? What kind of answer am I looking for? Obviously the prosthetic is about to come off and I just have to contain the desperate, whore-like rage within.

"Shut up, Vi," he chuckles over my nickname, grabbing onto my thighs and tugging me to the edge of the desk as he sits in his chair again. My fingertips press into the wooden surface while my heart threatens to pound its way through my ribcage. "Just let me taste you."

Cue internal screaming. I'm so going to faint-- and the addition of watching his pretty guitar-playing hands leave my skin to unbuckle his prosthetic is pushing me to astronomical heights. I don't even exist anymore. I'm just a wisp, a little phantom fairy watching her favorite sex movie play out in real time. It's called Faceless Fixation. She's the Fellatio Fairy. I don't even-- whoever is writing my life needs to give me a break.

I'm shivering like I have hypothermia by the time Sal carefully pulls the prosthetic off his face, making sure to not mess up his hair. And then he glances up at me. Bright eyes hesitant, sort of wide. Eyebrows risen just a bit and lips pressed together like he wants to say a thousand things but can't. He looks so nervous and it's a moment we can both share.

For reassurance (I think we both need it) I smile at him. Just a slight upward tilt of my lips as I press my thighs together. He's so beautiful. Every scar, every indentation, every feature, every little freckle. Just wow-- he's a sight to behold.

Sal's gaze flits to my lips, then down to my legs and he grabs onto them again, purposefully pulling them apart. His black polished nails dig into my skin as he gazes down at my underwear. I'm so used to watching his reactions and feelings portrayed only through his eyes, but watching the way his jaw tenses and the moment his lips part like he can't wait any longer makes me feel like I'll implode. 

His fingers run up my legs to my hips, dipping into my panties and pulling them downward. I gulp over the sight, relishing in the deja vu. How kind of him to not rip these this time. 

I lift myself up as he shimmies them down my legs, finally pulling them from around my ankles and holding them up for me to see. I blink, warmth rushing to my face at his boldness. And Sal, well-pleased, quirks a little seductive smile at them before switching his gaze to me.

"I haven't even touched you and you're soaked," is what he murmurs, eyes dancing over my half naked body with very little focus on my face. It's like he's glued to what hides behind my clenched thighs, eagerly awaiting what he'll find between them. "You're inflating my ego way too much," his voice is a bit louder this time-- darker, more sinister. The pronunciation of his words shows off charming, slightly crooked front teeth and sharp canines. I'll never know how I haven't ascended already.

I shiver, trying and failing to hide my reaction. But it doesn't really matter, seeing as Sal caught onto it anyway and his hooded eyes are on mine, a dangerous glint clashing with the hypnotizing azure shade of his irises. 

His hands are on my legs again, fingers roughly squeezing my skin. He isn't putting off his plans again though. When he separates my legs and I try my best not to push him away out of fear, Sal leans forward and presses his lips to the inside of my left thigh.

I take a deep, shuddering breath as I bathe in the feeling of his soft, jagged lips moving along my sensitive skin. I commit the image to memory, absolutely astonished over the way his blue eyes are closed while he inches closer and closer to my pussy.

I'm unable to take a full breath at this point, my body is tense while I try to hold myself in an upright position, pathetically falling apart as his mouth dances along the inside of my thigh like he's studied and perfected each step he takes. His hands are molded into my skin, they've become a part of me. He's pressing my thigh up to his face, leaving the most inebriating kisses. I wish he would stop teasing me already.

At the same time, I'm obsessed with the way he's handling me. Delicately, carefully, but he's in full control and making me wait. Testing me. Seeing if I'll push him, hoping I'll give him a good reason to punish me.

Sal's eyes open again, glancing up to meet mine. I suck in a breath, watching as he opens that dirty mouth of his and bites into the sensitive skin at the top of my thigh.

I hiss, wincing at the slight pain but my eyes never leave his. They could never. And he loves that, takes it as a challenge because those sky blue eyes close and he bites down harder, sucking my skin into his mouth to leave his mark. 

Some kind of satisfied, sickeningly delighted feeling swells in my chest at the knowledge of having a mark from him on my body. It's primal, it's a little weird, but I adore the idea and maybe he does too. After what he said to me about North on the flight to Nockfell, I'd guess he's more than happy to stake his claim even if it's invisible to the outside world. 

Sal finally pulls his teeth from my leg, revealing a gnarly, dark purple mark in his wake. He places a quick, soothing kiss to the abused skin before trailing his way closer to my pussy. He masks his destination with more wet kisses and bites and I'm so worked up by now that a light sheen of sweat has formed on my forehead. I can't be doing this-- this is complete torture.

"Sal," I groan out, flinching at the sinful tone of my voice. It makes him pause his movements as well. "Please," I tack on, the word quiet and agonizingly pleading.

He hums against my skin, eyes zeroed in on mine. I hate being so direct, it's terrifying, but it's worth it if it'll end up with his tongue buried in me, right? 

"Beg for it," he says lowly, a slight rasp to his voice. His tone makes me shiver, as well as his words and I would drop to my hands and knees if he told me to right now.

My lips part upon hearing him and I release a shaky breath, thighs drawing together until he stops them with his tight grip. My heart is running a marathon, my limbs are trembling and I'm wondering if maybe this is all just a really awesome dream.

"Please," I repeat, voice coming out as a whine. For once, I don't regret it because this is what he wants. "I'm desperate." I don't know how else to portray to him that I need this-- the wait is nearly excruciating. "I need to feel you."

Sal pulls away from my skin, tongue lapping at all of his bite marks before a sadistic smile pulls at his lips. "How much do you hate me?" And he's waiting, waiting for a wordy explanation of my distaste for him. But now, with the way things have changed between us-- even if it's slightly-- describing my loathing somehow feels harder.

So I snort, trying to coerce him into putting his mouth on me again regardless of the location. But all the shivers, waiting, and very slow building orgasm is slipping away into the distance. "A lot," I whisper shakily.

He gives me a look, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together as if I've disappointed him. "You can do better than that, Vi. Where's the fire?" He leans toward the thigh he hasn't captured with his mouth yet and skims his teeth along my skin. "Should I give you an example?"

I lick my lips, a sudden fluttering in my chest making me feel light headed. I hesitantly shake my head-- the longer he isn't paying attention to me, the farther I am from cumming. I can come up with something to say can't I? Of course I can. He's infuriating enough.

"Alright then," he mumbles monotonously, finally ditching my thighs. He yanks me a bit closer, eyes still rifling through my soul. "Then tell me. And if you stop," he warns as I swallow against the pounding in my chest due to his positioning, face mere inches from my sopping cunt. He's dragged this on long enough. "I stop. Keep that filthy mouth of yours moving."

He waits for me to launch into a monologue of detest. His mouth so close to my clit, breath tickling my skin and forcing a quiet little whimper from me. 

"I fucking hate the constant foul mood you're always in," I force out, feeling my heart leap into my throat the second the words leave my mouth. Because Sal keeps his promise and with an inebriating grunt of approval, he finally attaches his lips to my clit, tongue running over it like he's desperate to soak up every inch of what I have to offer.

The feeling of his mouth on my pussy is incomparable to any other type of satisfaction in the world-- this is what I've waited for. And he happily makes up for the lost time, expertly flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves and sucking it farther into his mouth. He moans against my cunt, hands dragging up my thighs to cup my ass and force me even closer to him. He squeezes my skin, a reminder to keep talking.

I dig up all the things I can't stand about him, slathering them across my brain so I can tell him about it. "You're a brick wall. No matter what I say, you refuse to listen. How come you're never open to hearing anyone out?" I whimper between words, squirming around on his desk and trying my damn hardest not to ruin any of his belongings.

Sal lifts my legs over his arms, pushing them onto his shoulders and I swear I'm about to combust. The way his tongue maps figure eights and circles around my clit does nothing to help, only sends me further toward falling apart.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fingers curling over the edge of his desk, heavy breaths and quiet moans falling past my lips no matter how badly I wish I could keep them inside. "You have some kind of God complex. You think you're right about everything, have to be in control of everything and I can't stand it. I can't stand you and your constant need to have everything you want."

His teeth graze over my clit and my mouth falls open, waves of pleasure rolling through my body like I've never experienced before. He moves downward, his tongue buried between my folds and licking up every bit of my arousal that he can get. Upon getting a better taste of me, he moans and I can feel the vibration of it everywhere, all the way up to my fingertips.

"I hate how easily you turn me on, how wet I get just from a simple touch," I admit, teeth clamping down onto my bottom lip as his tongue explores the inside of my pussy like he's been starved of me for far too long. His nails dig into my skin, the action eliciting a stinging sensation that only adds to the pleasure he's giving me. This is everything. "And you're so unfair. So pretty, so damn attractive with that horrible personality of yours. Why can't you be pretty through and through?"

I open my eyes again to watch him, drowning in the prospect of his face buried between my thighs, cheeks flushed and hair a mess. I watch as he drags his mouth up to my clit again, drawing patterns and shapes I don't care to know over the bundle of nerves. The rough, slick feeling of his tongue on such a sensitive place is addicting. So long as he's around to bring me to new heights like this, I don't need anything else. Maslow's hierarchy of needs has never been so wrong-- this is my sole need.

I can't help myself-- I reach a hand out, my fingers burying themselves into Sal's hair. It's soft. Just as soft as I knew it would be. And he doesn't seem to mind, only continues to suck on my clit and abuse it with his tongue. I close my hand into a fist, lightly tugging on his hair. I need something to hold onto.

"And your stupid fucking mouth," I groan out, sucking in a breath that never fully fills my lungs. His tongue dips into my pussy again, making another little groan follow my first. My thighs are clenched tightly at this point, quaking furiously. Sal never tries to stop me, doesn't calm me. It's clear how much he enjoys bringing me to ruin. "All the awful things you say, so many dirty words and you are so good with your tongue. I've never craved and loathed something so much in my life." 

Sal smiles against my pussy-- I watch in pure amazement as the corners of his lips curl upward like what I said was everything he's always wanted to hear. It's so lewd, so perverted and I absolutely will never forget this moment.

One of his hands lets go of my ass, trailing down my thigh again but moving to the inside this time. As his teeth gently nip at my clit and his tongue laps at my pussy, the tips of his fingers press against my opening, a silent request for more of my profession of hatred. A profession I'm more than happy to give him.

"I can't imagine how much I'll hate the way you fuck me just because I know it'll be better than any sex I've had before," I tell him, watching his mouth move against my cunt with furrowed brows and my lips parted in intrigue. Oh, he's so good at what he does. 

Sal's eyes meet mine again. Eye contact with him when he's in such an erotic position is incredibly intense. I feel like my entire body is going to crumple before he can finish me off and it all counts on if he's able to hold me up or not. But as soon as his cerulean gaze meets mine, two of his fingers sink into me. The action is slow, drawn out, and drags a nasty moan out of me in turn.

Sal whimpers against my pussy, taking care of me like he promised he would. When his fingers reach as far as they can go, he curls them, causing me to flinch at the sensuous feeling. There's so much going on to the point that every inch of my body feels impossibly overwhelmed. 

My sensitive clit gets sucked into Sal's mouth again, but then he pulls away. His fingers make up for the absence of his tongue, pounding into me in the same salacious way he's done before.

"Is that all you've got?" he grumbles breathlessly, glazed eyes glaring into mine. This is the expression I'm used to with him-- anger and dominance. 

I choke on the breath I try to take, my thighs pressing into his neck as his fingers slam in and out of my soaked cunt, digits only pausing their relentless pace to curl into me. I try to fight against my one working brain cell, try to form words for him, but-- "I can't." is all that I'm able to create, the two short words coming out as an imploring cry.

Sal stands, finger-fucking me into an alternate dimension. He hovers over me, his hair brushing my shoulders and neck. I watch him, an absolute mess beneath him but I can't look away-- even through the panting breaths that morph into whimpers and moans. 

His eyes glance between mine, seemingly contemplating something in that meticulous mind of his.

"Yea, you can, gorgeous," he grinds out behind clenched teeth, using the hand that's gripping my ass to press me against his chest. Our even closer proximity somehow forces his fingers deeper into my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit. "Tell me more." My mouth is dry, I'm going to cum soon, and hopefully I don't actually fall over before that.

Sal takes a page out of my book, leaning closer to me and nipping at the skin of my throat. A little gasp falls past my lips and I finally let go of his hair, dragging my hand down to his neck. Those fingers work me to the core, never ceasing their movements and pushing into me with so much perfectly applied force. 

His mouth moves along the side of my neck, his lips still wet from my juices. I have no idea what gave him the confidence, but I'm not mad. Everything that couldn't be done with his prosthetic can be done now and he's taking advantage of it. "Speak," he snaps, tone not so gentle or comforting like it was when this first began. "Or else."

My mind is blank. "I'm about to cum," I begrudgingly whisper, completely overtaken by his fingers thrusting into me and his thumb focused on my oversensitive clit.

I shut my eyes, my free arm wrapping around his shoulders. Every inch of my body is tense, senses heightened and alert. I don't think I can possibly hold on any longer-- I doubt Sal needed my confirmation to tell that I'm close.

His digits curl into me again, repeating the action. I follow up with a loud whimper, my nails digging into the skin of his neck as he sucks on the skin behind my ear. I wish he'd have ditched the prosthetic sooner because I've really been missing out.

The hand still gripping onto my butt retreats to my stomach, fingers disappearing under my shirt and crawling across my ribs to my bra. He treats it as if it isn't even there, hand easily dipping beneath the fabric. His palm envelops my breast, squeezing gently and massaging the skin. It's such a considerate touch compared to the way he treats the rest of my body-- he knows exactly where the sweet spots are. 

"Cum," he commands, lips brushing the shell of my ear and fingers pounding into my sore cunt, thumb running over my hardened nipple.

My head drops onto his shoulder and with one more curl of his fingers, I do as he says and fall apart in his arms. I burst almost instantly, doing anything to keep myself silent over the feeling of his fingers gently caressing the inside of my pussy, riding me through my orgasm just like he did the first time. My teeth sink into his shoulder, a muffled whimper following soon after. Sal tenses up in my arms, a pleasured breath falling from his mouth and fanning over the side of my neck.

"Good girl," he purrs into my ear, lips skimming over the warm skin at my throat. He leaves one more sloppy kiss to my neck then pulls away to look into my eyes again. I can hardly hear anything he says as my teeth are forced away from his shoulder, still reeling from the orgasm that slammed into me nearly unannounced. My limbs feel like jelly as chills run up my spine. "You listen to me so well," he continues. I can't even look into his eyes; I just watch the way his lips move. How his tongue presses into the back of his teeth to pronounce a syllable. His sharp canines that undoubtedly left their own bruises on my skin. 

I gulp, unable to peel my eyes away from the mouth that masterfully brought me to climax. For the first time ever, I wonder what his mouth would feel like against mine. How soft his scarred lips would feel, not on my skin, but captured by my own. What his tongue would taste like. What his teeth would feel like nipping at my lips. 

Sal doesn't move away from me-- keeps our close proximity with his nose nearly brushing my mask's. He slowly, delicately pulls his fingers out of me but only continues to gaze into my eyes.

This is dangerous territory. Very dangerous. Because the impossible is coursing through me right now and I... somehow can't find it in me to hate him in this exact moment.

But then he blinks. Stands to his full height, moving away from me. His azure gaze turns to the desk I'm sitting on and he grabs my panties, offering them to me. Not an ounce of emotion evident on his face. I'd always wondered what he'd look like simply because I was curious if his face gave away his emotions better than his eyes could. It's pretty impressive how he's able to keep a straight mug though, RBF and all. Especially when he lifts the hand he fingered me with to his mouth and licks my cum off. He doesn't even look at me as his tongue runs up the length of his digit, just turns away from me and walks to the other side of the room.

I'm floored, jaw dropped and pussy wet. Again. That's really fucking hot.

I watch him strut away, follow his movements as he drops to his haunches and opens up his suitcase with his clean hand. He grabs something then faces me again, beginning to walk back with a finger still in his mouth.

My chest tightens at the sight. He can't be doing this to me. Not when Larry is going to be home any minute-- he needs to keep both his hands at his sides.

Thankfully, Sal has some mercy on me and finally finishes cleaning his fingers, eyes darting up to mine again. He walks up to me, right where I'm still sitting on top of his desk and drops fabric onto my bare thighs.

My brows furrow and I look down, grabbing lace. I lift it up, unfolding it to see that it's a near replica of the lace underwear he'd ripped off of me in Vegas. Only it's a completely brand new pair. No rips, no issues. My heart swells a bit at the gesture-- he bought a new pair like I'd told him to. I wasn't even serious, but he did it anyway.

I puff out my cheeks, contemplating what to say. Thank you's are virtually nonexistent between us. My eyes flit up to meet his again and he stuffs his hands into his pockets, watching me.

"You taste good," he nonchalantly comments, causing an infuriating blush to heat my cheeks.

"Thanks," I murmur, holding up the lace panties to show that I'm thankful for them too. "You taste pretty good too." He does. I'll have to return the favor to him when I get the chance.

A barely audible snort comes from him and I almost smile. 

"I'd fuck you, but Larry will be back any minute and Ash probably isn't far behind him," he says, turning on his heel and walking toward the door. "I suggest you put your clothes back on. Panties are clean, I washed them."

My eyebrows raise and I pinch my lips together. Huh. "How kind of you," I say half sarcastically. Only half because it's helpful that they are clean-- it's almost like he knew he'd place me in a predicament where I needed fresh underwear. "You trying to kick me out?" I add. Of course he is, I'm just trying to make my way out of here as awkward-less as possible.

"Hell yea," he says proudly, "I have shit to do."

"Are you calling me a distraction?" I ask, looking toward him as I shimmy my underwear and shorts up my legs then start working on the button.

Sal tilts his head, hand on the doorknob. "And a mild aggravation."

"Oh, wow," I gasp, feigning surprise. "Mild? I must be working my way onto your good side."

"Fuck me good enough and we'll see how far you get," he replies, eyes watching my every move but face still unreadable as I begin walking toward him. 

I roll my eyes. Of course. I pinch my lips together and give him a disinterested look. This is my lesson to never try to have a casual conversation with him again. He clearly doesn't want it, which, fair. Our agreement is sex, not friendship. "Okay," I say dramatically when he opens the door for me. "Bye, Sal."

The man nods his head, acknowledging the shift in the room. His eyes stay glued to mine like they have been the entire time I've been here. Now that I'm not distracted by his mouth on my pussy, I realize that this is an odd thing for him to do. He looks at me every once in a while, but not in such a... scrutinizing way. 

He purses his lips and says, "Bye, y/n."

Every nerve-ending in my body suddenly shuts off. Everything is still. I have no thoughts for a moment, no physical reaction. Just stillness. I don't breathe, I don't move. I just watch him.

There's no way— he has to have mixed up my names. It has to be that.

And then everything hits me. Sal Fisher just said my name. And not the fake one that I've been hiding behind. He said my actual name— the one that's on my birth certificate. And now my hands are shaking, my heart is racing, my breaths are uneven, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"What the fuck," I say shakily. I'm not ready for this. I'm going to completely switch his thought process around-- "did you just say?"

The look in his eyes changes, they light up a bit as if he's caught me. And still he decides to mess with me. "Huh?" he innocently asks.

Okay, I'd really like to wake up now.

My eyes narrow. So that's the game he wants to play? This isn't the time and I don't have the mental capacity to handle this. Not only am I recovering from a mind-blowing orgasm, but I was just getting over the overwhelming anxiety I suffered from yesterday.

"I'm not y/n, if that's what you're thinking," I rush to tell him, even adding in the fakest little smirk I've ever slapped onto my face. Anything to get him off my tail, whatever I can think of to save my ass. This really can't be happening to me.

He's still watching me speculatively and it's making my brain itch. "You know," he finally starts, voice disgustingly pleased. "I went out on a limb with that one." I watch in horror as a little smirk begins to grow on his face. I don't want to accept it yet, I really don't, but I think I'm fucked and not physically. 

At the end of the day, he's still managed to fuck me in multiple ways. I cannot stand Sal Fisher.

"What are you even talking about?" I ask him, clearing my throat quietly while taking a safe step out of his door and into the living room. I try my best to keep my eyes on him while extinguishing the fear from my gaze. If I act horrified, he'll sniff me out instantly. That is, if he hasn't already.

Sal chuckles deeply— it's, shockingly, an amused and prideful one rather than something sick, dark, and twisted. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. I try my best not to adore the way his scars stretch with his laugh and the sight of his pretty teeth. "Any other woman would have assumed I was sleeping with someone else if I called them by another name," he says lightheartedly, tilting his head down a bit. "But you didn't. And that can only mean that I'm right."

I open my mouth to decline, fear thrumming through me. He caught me red handed. I can't fucking believe this.

"And don't try to deny it, you won't change my mind. I've been very sure of who you are for months now."

My head slowly begins to shake of its own accord. He never fails to shock me. "How..."

Sal shrugs. "You couldn't have timed your introduction more horrendously. Think about it," he says, chewing on his bottom lip. "I bitch at y/n over a phone call, then the next day, a wild VioletViolence pops into my life and isn't too surprised by my shitty personality. The second you were added to the Discord server, I had my suspicions." He shrugs nonchalantly, like the confirmation doesn't bother him in the slightest. "I talked it over with Larry and Todd too. They're pretty sure of your identity as well. They were just nice enough to wait for you to tell us on your own." His eyes narrow, sly like a fox. "But I'm not nice and wanted to know for myself. Wanted to scare you a bit too."

I swallow over the bile rising in my throat. Scare me, he did. I have no idea what to do with myself. I must look like a deer in headlights nearing its death sentence. "It... it doesn't bother you?" I decide to ask in a small voice, unable to blink as I watch him closely.

That same smug little smile is still lighting up his marred face as he says, "Regardless, I still can't stand you and I'll still fuck you stupid."

-----------

A/N::::::: OMFFGGGGG I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS CHAPTER FOR AGESSSSSS PLEASE!!! more specifically the end of it! i've had this last scene written since like... 2022 o_O 

i want to give a HUGE thanks to my very good friend, Phoebe, who inspired me to write the catalyst of the smut scene with this AMAZING piece of art that they drew :3 i am soooo so grateful for having the opportunity to see the art in general, but getting to write it too??? OMG so incredibly grateful <33

side note: this is my first time writing a smut scene like this one-- well, actually any time i write a different kind of sex it's new for me LMFAO i am exploring EVERYTHINGGGG and i also have no idea if this is any good. so like last chapter, if y'all could give me some tips or things you like and didn't like, i would GREATLY appreciate it :3

i'm going catch up on my neglected homework. as always, have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night. my heart belongs to all of you <3