#but again. not enough information to yap

[robobee]

if trc was a visual medium and I was a tiktoker i would go insane talking about quiet luxury and how Declan and Adam both fall into this position of people with OBJECTIVELY less money compared to their peers and how both of them are trying to replicate luxury (ie: clothing=persona/identity) to varying levels of success. adam wears old gifts from the ganseys and declan is very clearly called out by other characters to be overcompensating. neither are fully seamless and even though thats not an overt plot point it is DEFINITELY very significant since plenty of their story beats echo each other down to their relationship with ronan, who is a different fashion debate (eg. how punk can you get off of a bank account you dont need to look at and a shaved head which needs to be constantly maintained and a BMW you stole w no repurcussion). again I DO think stief implies fascinating plot points that she doesn't focus on but her display of class and economic variation is very very cool & obviously people w more context of specific USAmerican culture can have this debate better than I can

editing to link the video that finally helped me put this thought into words

[pitchsidestories]

for the girls II Kika Nazareth x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1347

a/n: dear readers, this is for the girls..and for the anon who asked if we'd write another Kika fanfic. 💜❤️

“Chicas, you haven’t. told us about your Portugal trip yet!”, Mapi clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

It was the dinner night after a big game at the team’s favourite restaurant. Far away from the buzzy and touristy La Rambla, in one of the less busy neighbourhoods where you football players could eat and yap in peace. In this minute the candles were lit by the waiters and turned everything into a warm glow.

“True, did you two enjoy it? Were you girls surfing? The water must be cold by now.”, Ellie mused with a dreamy look in her blue eyes.  

“We did. And it was amazing.”, Kika affirmed.

“Yes, we’ll go there again over the Christmas break. The waves were the best I’ve ever ride on.”, you enthused thrilled.

“You two went surfing?!”, Alexia gasped outraged by your recklessness.

“Yeah?”, the Portuguese forward cleared her throat nervously.

“It was super fun, Ale.”, you replied nonchalantly, slightly annoyed by the older Spaniards mothering, for some time her overprotective side always came through when it came to you.

“Can’t you do something less dangerous?”, Alexia sighed.

“We had everything in control.”, you tried to assure the midfielder.

“Still. In the middle of the season.”, she pouted.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t spend too much time on the water anyway.”, Kika intervened, smiling cheekily, holding your hand in hers.

“Kika.”, you exclaimed blushing deeply.

“That’s too much information.”, Mapi chuckled amused.

“Wait, what?!”, Alexia asked shocked.

“Stop acting like a mum.”, the Portuguese laughed.

“You’re lucky I’m not.”, your captain said through clenched teeth.

In your mind you reminisced about your trip to Portugal which felt like ages ago but was only a week prior. How could you explain to Alexia that every day spent with Kika felt as fresh as a summer’s day no matter the actual weather?

“I was faster than you, Kika!”, you grinned triumphantly, your feet had reached the sea water before your teammates.

“You started early!”, she shook her head heavy breathing.

“Lies.”, you countered smiling innocently.

“It’s true.”, the brunette insisted smirking.

“Whatever.”, you shrugged. What you didn’t plan was to get lost into your friends’ brown eyes. They’re so beautiful you thought to yourself.

“You know that friends don’t look at each other like this?”, Kika observed.

“Looking like what?”, you asked biting your lips anxiously. 

“The way you look at me right now.”, the forward replied earnestly.

“I.. sorry.. I think.. I forgot something at the beach.”, you mumbled.

“Y/n..”

“Do you need something as well?”, you turned your head around to look into her eyes.

“No.”, she denied.

You nodded slowly: “Okay.“

“Okay.“, she replied.

There was nothing else to say so you waded out of the water, forcing your heart to stop hammering against your chest.

Kika joined you a bit later, both of you laying on your beach towels and letting the sun dry the water off your skin.

She never mentioned it again and as the day went on, you started to wonder if you had imagined the conversation you had earlier.

You stayed out at the beach to watch the sunset together but once night started to fall, the temperatures dropped and a slight breeze rolled in from the sea. Kika and you found shelter in the van you rented. It was just big enough for the two of you with a twin mattress in the back and a makeshift kitchen where you prepared a quick dinner for the two of you.

Parked a bit away from the actual beach, you had a perfect view at the waves but without heating, the van cooled down as quickly as the outside temperature.

“It’s getting kind of cold… Do you want me to get another blanket?”, you asked Kika who was, like you, sitting on the mattress with a thin blanket wrapped around herself.

“Uhm… sure.“, she nodded.

Wordlessly, you got up and pulled out another blanket.

“Here you go.“

“Come here, we can share this one.“, Kika decided as she unfolded it and gently placed it over both of your legs once you sat back down.

“Thanks. Who thought it would be this cold in our van at night?”, you asked while sucking in a breath.

Kika laughed: “Definitely not me.“

“Me neither. But now we know.“, you joined the laughter, shaking your head about how unprepared you both were.

“We do. Are you still cold?”, Kika asked while her eyes searched your face.

Your grip tightened around the edges of your blanket, a desperate attempt to keep your hands from shivering: “No…“

Kika clearly looked right through your lie. “Move over.“, she demanded.

You did as you were told while the football player moved closer, pulling you into her.

You cheeks started to burn which you chalked up to Kikas body heat.

“Why are you so hot?”, you laughed.

“I’m Portuguese.“, she replied plainly, shrugging.

“Of course.“

“That must be it.“, she grinned.

“Appreciate the heat though.“, you answered, finally laying down. Kika did the same, never letting go of you.

For the shortest moment, you thought you would both fall asleep until you could feel the football player stir close to you. Her chest was so close to yours that you could essentially feel her rapid heartbeat against your ribcage.

“Why are you so nervous? Can’t you sleep?“

“I..no. There’s something else I’d like to do.”, Kika admitted quietly in the dark.

“What’d you like to do?”, you asked her nervously.

“I’d like to kiss you.”, the forward confessed.

“What about the being friends talk from earlier?”, you raised an eyebrow.  

“Well, what about we stop being friends and start dating.”, she suggested boldly.

“You mean like Marta and Caro, Mapi and Ingrid.”, you began listing the couples in the team with your fingers.

“Yes.”

“I like that. So, you didn’t mind when I glanced at you earlier.”, you realized.

“No, not at all.”, Kika insisted.

“I want to kiss you too.”, you smiled sheepishly at her.

“When what are you waiting for.”, the brunette chuckled.

You didn’t need more than this, you left a featherlight kiss on her lips. “Do you want more?”, you gave her a challenging look.

“Please.”, she responded promptly. Now it was Kika who entangled you in a kiss. The Portuguese tasted like never-ending summer; the warmth spread through your whole body chasing the cold away.

“Wait, so you’re together now?”, Keira’s question brought you back to the present evening.

“Jep, we’re.”, Kika confirmed with a proud grin on her lips.

“If you hurt y/n, Kika…”, Alexia warned her.

“Stop, Ale. You’re neither my mami nor my big sister.”, you interrupted the captain annoyed.

“I promise I’ll not hurt her. I couldn’t be happier.”, your girlfriend declared solemnly.

“Good.”, the blonde nodded satisfied.

“You can calm down now.”, you rolled your eyes at her.

“We should order another round of drinks.”, Mapi suggested enthusiastically.

“Sounds like a good idea.” Kika waited until everyone had a newly filled glass in their hands to toast. “Cheers to the power of love and friendship.”

“To another Barca couple.”, the defender from Zaragoza added smirking.

“You look like a proud aunt.”, Ingrid observed smiling.

“I feel like one.”, Mapi acknowledged, resting her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

The rest of the evening was a joyful time with teammates who become friends and some of them lovers.

“And that’s a wrap.”, your girlfriend confirmed once she took a mirror selfie which had the whole team in it.

Slowly each of the women went down a different road which would lead them home so by the end of your walk it was only Kika and you walking hand in hand through the streets which were lit by the lamplights.

“That was nice.”, you hummed.

“Agreed, come on time to go home, meu amor.”, she replied. At the end of the road, you both knew that your place was waiting for you.

“I’m coming.”, you told her, almost running now, because you couldn’t wait to be in the four walls you called your home now with the woman you loved.

[schlattslonghairytoes]

across the way🚪📖 🖌️

A.P calc teacher schlatt x A.P studio art teacher reader

moving to a new school as a art teacher is an extremely difficult shift, especially when your class is in the middle of the math wing, far from all the other art teachers

so meeting new friends at this school is particularly difficult

until a lesson plan needed for 5th period requires you to use the math teachers printer one early morning

“Hey, can you help me with this?” you asked the tall muttonchopped man next to you, seemingly making a cup of coffee.

“yeah no problem, let me see” after a few seconds he fixes the printer, and your lessons begin to continue printing. “the ink was loaded in wrong" he chuckles "are ya’ the new A.P art teacher?” you smile up at him and nod.

“and if ya’ don't mind me asking what is it you teach?" you say.

“A.P Calculus. why’d they place you in the math wing?"

the conversation continues and it's very pleasant, you keep talking and realize your classes are no joke across the hall from each other

your friendship starts off slow, only talking during breaks or occasionally borrowing things from each other, considering your subjects barely align 

until one day you're busy making him and some other art teachers you became friends with paintings for their room, and in conversation you remember him liking orcas, and that his room is very bare and needs some decor

so when he waltzes into your room to borrow yet another ruler (of which he definitely has enough but we can look past) and sees the painting, yea he asks for your number soon after.

from then on the only art in his room is made by you or his students

weeks pass and your becoming very close friends, but it never goes past that, strictly school.

until one day during your free period that you share with your new best friend Mrs. Haynes (Sabrina), the recently hired health teacher, tells you something she heard in passing

"okay so you know the hot videography teacher? yeah Mr. Nivision, yeah turns out him, Mr. Keane, and Mr. Schaltt are like close friends." shes is such a gossip, she began opening up her lunch, but before she started yapping you cut her off.

"okay, now quick detour what does this have to do with me?" you joke as you continue reading over your students essays, your class was currently doing art history, which was your major in college. so naturally you were having fun.

"well you will never guess what schlatt said about you!" your eyes widen and you begin to speak but sabrina shuts you up. "its not anything bad, quite the oposide actually!"

"he said youre hot as fuck." you almost spit your coffee out when she said that.

now you werent sure what to do with this information

i mean sabrina had heard it from tuckers wife Emma, who had heard it from tucker, which tucker heard from ted, and ted, the primary source, was told by schlatt himself

you felt like you were a highschooler again

but all you were sure of is you didnt want to make this awkward

by the time halloween rolls around a bunch of teachers had made plans to hang out

schlatt had offered to host everyone he deemed cool enough, which to your luck included you

the only problem was that halloween was three days away, and niether of you had made a costume yet

so the day before halloweekend, while you were actively teaching a class may i add, Mr. schlatt knocked on your door.

"hey jay, whats up?" you opened the door for the giant infront of you

"can i come in?" before you could even respond he already began walking into your class, saying hi to students he recognized

you werent fully worried about your class watching you talk to schlatt, except for one table right up front

it was a table of six girls, who in the span of two months had become the equivilent of little sisters to you, you knew everything about them, and in turn they knew everything about you

that included the time you accidentaly mentioned your small crush on the 6'3 calc teacher across the hall.

but god you really hoped they had forgotten about that

"so ive been meaning to ask you a question." he said looking around your room, seemingly taking it all in.

"shoot away" you smiled up at him

"well i still dont have a costume for Saturday and to my knowledge you dont either?" he asked

"no i dont, why you wanna match with me mr schlatt?" you tease lightly, and he laughs

"yeah, i would, only if you also want to?' he raised a brow softly

"i get to pick it." you demand quietly

he begins walking out the class, not before leaving a "that was a given." smiling and closing the door softly behind him.

when you hear the giggling and snorting of your six favorite sophomores, you sigh.

your fucked.

[kyuujo]

↳ screen time!

↳ michael kaiser x fem!reader ↳ nsfw ↳ voyeurism, slightly dubcon (reader is recorded without explicit knowledge), mutual masturbation (sort of), perv!kaiser, voyeur!kaiser, solo male masturbation, language, dirty talk, fantasies, sexual tension(ish), sexual pining, overstimulation, i think i got everything pls lmk if you catch something!

↳ 1.3k words

↳ uwaaah dahlings!! thank you guys so much for 106 followers!! it means so much to me! i’m so happy i can provide some entertainment to so many of you <333 it makes me so happy to do that TwT) this piece is actually a repost from my (deleted) blog, and i’m thinking it’ll be the last repost i do (idk why but reposting just feels weird to me T-T) but i hope you guys enjoy!! thank you so much for reading (im so sorry that this note was so long i had so much to yap about)

kaiser knew he was abusing a system that he shouldn’t even have knowledge of — but he simply couldn’t control himself.

the instant ness had clued him in on that little piece of information about the camera system, kaiser’s mind shifted straight to you; cute, quiet, shy little you. and ness, bless his soul, didn’t question kaiser even once when he requested (demanded) that ness find a way to hack into the secondary cameras hidden within the personal rooms of the facility.

kaiser wasn’t sure why jinpachi ego had felt the need to install such a security system, but he was deeply thankful for it.

because there would be no other way kaiser could ever witness this beautiful sight over and over again — you laid out across your bed, legs spread and fingers working over time plunging into your sloppy little cunt.

slick squelches and soft moans echoed through the earphones and traveled straight to kaiser’s dick, which was already hard and leaking despite only having started the recording less than a minute ago.

that was just the visceral effect you had on him; you could brick him up instantly with just a single glance in his direction.

and seeing you like this — oh, the effect was catastrophic. kaiser swears his dick has never been harder before, that he’s never felt so turned on and sensitive, each stroke of his hand down the shaft electrifying and borderline overwhelming — and when he ran the pad of his thumb along the tip to collect the dripping pre his whole body nearly convulsed.

it was amazing, satisfying, and yet so, so torturous. because at the moment, all kaiser could do was stare at your pretty cunt swallowing your fingers and imagine how it would feel for those velvet walls to be closing around his cock instead.

and suddenly, his hand just didn’t feel good enough anymore — kaiser imagined you must have felt the same way about your fingers, given the scrunch of your eyebrows and how desperate your movements were; it just wasn’t enough. you clearly needed something longer and thicker to fill you up.

and kaiser could do that for you — oh, how he would make you feel so good. he’d slide his cock in nice and slow so could you could feel him inch for inch, so you could enjoy that satisfying stretch it’d give your tight little pussy. he’d fuck into you recklessly in the same way you’re doing with your fingers while whispering sweet little nothings in your ear just to feel your walls flutter around him.

“so good, meine schöne rose,” kaiser whispered as he tightened his fingers around his cock, eyes zeroed in on your fingers sliding into that sweet nirvana between your legs. for a moment, kaiser could almost convince himself that he was buried inside your tight little pussy and not his own hand. “keep going. that’s it.”

kaiser’s breathing was quickly laboring, his abdomen twitching and tightening with every quick stroke of his hand. your soft moans and whimpers spurred that heat within his gut, and if he closed his eyes and focused, kaiser could feel your plump lips against his ear, honeyed voice begging him to fuck harder, to fuck you completely stupid, until all you could think about was his cock —

kaiser’s eyes snapped open when his ears were graced with a particularly loud moan from the earphones, and that liquid heat in his gut ramped up to a boiling point at the sight he was greeted with.

your other hand had abandoned its stationary place on your stomach and was now rubbing fast circles against your pretty clit in time with your thrusting fingers, and your whole body was trembling from the new stimulus. kaiser had seen this enough times to know exactly what was soon to come.

“oh, sweet girl.” kaiser murmured reverently, chest fluttering and hand picking up speed around his cock. “so fuckin’ pretty like that.”

and you were — you were so fucking breathtaking. eyes slipped shut and plump lips parted to release those sweet, sultry moans; fingers sliding into the prettiest folds and rubbing against the cutest clit; that perfect body trembling and shaking.

it was a vision of pure erotic perfection that was etched permanently into kaiser’s mind; a vision that he craves to see in person while he ravages you with his cock.

“c’mon, meine rose. you’re so close.” kaiser cooed, hand jacking his cock so fast that his wrist was beginning to ache — but there was no way he was going to slow down, not when you were both so close, hanging onto the precipice of pure rupture. his gut clenched almost painfully and his balls twitched, signaling the fast approach of his climax.

“i’m gonna cum, sweet girl. mmh — fuck, ah — you’re gonna make me cum — i’m coming —”

kaiser had to bring his other hand up and clamp his teeth around it to muffle the sounds that bubbled up in his throat. all it took was three more strokes and he was exploding, warm, sticky ropes shooting all the way up to his chest. kaiser couldn’t even control the moans that slipped out, nor could he control the way his hips jerked up to fuck his cock into his tight fist as he rode out his orgasm, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

your escalating moans seemed to add even more fuel to the fire, stretching out kaiser’s orgasm to the point that his cock became almost unbearably sensitive — but he kept pumping his fist slowly, keeping his cock alive as he reached forward with a shaky hand to restart the video.

“just once more, meine schöne rose. make me cum one more time.”

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.2)

alright here we are with part two! i promised i'd be quick with it, didn't i? you can find part one here. thank you guys so much for all the nice comments, i love yapping to a receptive audience :D

so, if you haven't read part one, i've been going over the common critques of ba's characterization of jason, the main three being:

the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one"

his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character

the neighbor's kid interaction

in the first part we went over #1, so now were gonna look at #2!

so, a problem people have with the story is how ba writes jason's reaction to the fight with rok (white tophat demon guy); damian and jason jump into the fight with seemingly no preparation at all, "underestimating" rok and paying the price for it.

i'll be honest, i do agree with this critque a bit. jason, if he is nothing else, is an obsessive planner and strategist; his back-up plans have back-up plans, and so on. we see this in plenty of his comic renditions, especially in lost days and under the red hood, where there are numerous examples of jason's competency. despite this, many comics fall into the habit of treating him as the "reckless, stupid robin", once again reducing his character to just his anger, usually to make the other robins more competent. looking at his actions in utrh & lost days, however, makes him jumping into a fight with no information uncharacteristic.

so, i sort of agree with this critque. HOWEVER. i will attempt to rationalize this part of ba's writing (because there are still parts of it i disagree with and it's more fun than just agreeing and moving on)

alright, to begin, lets look at these three different series; utrh (under the red hood), lost days, and the boy wonder. there is obviously many other examples out there, but i'm just gonna focus on these three for now because otherwise we'd be here all day.

in utrh & lost days, jason is driven by an obvious goal with an obvious end result; in utrh his goal is making bruce kill the joker & taking over gotham's underbelly, and in lost days it is getting skilled enough to complete the previously mentioned objective. i also chose to highlight the scene where jason puts a bomb underneath the batmobile in lost days, intending to kill bruce, because it's another very clear example of jason's strategic prowess. the whole bomb thing even happens before jason starts his murder training, making the feat even more impressive.

ba's jason, though, exists in a reality post-utrh; his plan failed and he must live with the consequences and implications of that truth. the recklessness that he presents in the fight in the boy wonder could be a representation of him grappling with this idea-- his supposed failure and banishment obviously must have had an effect on his psyche, and ba is attempting to portray that. ba plays a lot with the sadder side of jason's existence in the comic, so it's a plausibly theory, even if it is admittedly reaching a bit.

additionally, referring back to the earlier conversation about jason's anger in the first part of this discussion, i have the same sentiments about portrayal's of jason's recklessness. he can possess a strategic mind while still being reckless; it's his numerous paradoxical character traits that make him such an interesting character (at least to me). he's a mess of contradictions.

furthermore, while jason's actions are reckless and brash in this specific instance of the story, that does not mean that ba presents him as a reckless character. there's a difference between a reckless character and a character being reckless, and i feel like jason mostly falls into the latter. while maybe not super obvious, jason's tactical-ness is still present in ba's portrayal. this is represented through damian's responses and reactions to jason.

the fact that damian goes to jason for help in the first place is baffling. as a prideful kid desperate to prove himself, damian is not predisposed to asking for help, which is clearly presented in the first issue when he interacts with dick and babs.

damian's willingness to work with jason could be a result of him recognizing their similarities; he's more approachable than dick "golden boy" grayson. beyond that, he goes to jason because he needs a certain set of skills to help him catch the demon.

while jason is not able to fully present his usefulness at this task because the demon finds them first, he is clearly seen taking charge of the situation and dictating their plan to locate the demon, and damian actually defers to him. while brief, this instance represents that despite his recklessness in the battle against rok, ba still accurately presents jason's tactical skills, underscoring the intelligence he has that so many author's ignore or downplay.

i could go into how this plays into jason being a foil character to damian, but i'll save it for another day. sorry if this post is a little nonsensical, i did my best. i'll finish up my analysis in part 3! :)

part 1 / part 3

[vanilladove]

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ get free (3/3)

pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: smut w/ plot + dark content; 18+ only pls!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: smut/nsfw, kidnapping, mentions of abuse + death, manipulation, violence, unhealthy relationships, infidelity (revenge hehe), slightly yandere!nikolai, dubious consent, husband yapping🤓

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: you've been kidnapped by your patient and taken to meet "dos" and another member of the doa. you notice someone familiar and are forced to make a quick decision. will you free yourself or stay in another man's cage? ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 1 & pt 2 & bonus (bad ending) ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 5.6k

Your head was pounding and your eyelids felt heavy, along with the intense soreness coursing through your body, especially on the left side of your waist. Trying to open your eyes through the blinding light, you could barely make out two figures in front of you--they looked like they were talking, so you tried to listen to the warped voices as much as you could with the remaining consciousness you could muster.

"Nikolai, I've meaning to ask you..." A deep, disinterested voice inquired. "What are you planning to do with that?"

"That? Don't be rude, Dos! This is Dove, I wrote to you about her in our letters, remember?" You could make out Nikolai's whines.

"Yes, but what use does she have for the Decay of Angels? If she's just another plaything, then she doesn't belong at the base. Besides, that woman is just another liability."

Nikolai sighed annoyedly, "She's my lover. I intend to keep her with me. I'm sure we can find a way for her to contribute later," he smirked, "I guess you wouldn't understand though...When's the last time you felt the touch of a woman, anyways?

You heard Dos scoff loudly at Nikolai's remark, "Fine, do what you like with her. Also, Sigma and I have finished getting information out of the target, so he's ready for disposal in the basement. He was a real pain to deal with."

Nikolai giggled at that, joking more with Dos. The exhaustion was taking over you again, though, so you couldn't keep yourself awake to glean anymore information from their conversation.

You heard the two men's voices fade out into the background as sleep overtook you once again.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

When you finally woke up, it was dim. You winced as you got up and took in your surroundings: the silk sheets you were under, a large bed, a spacious gothic-style room, cream curtains covering tall windows, and cuddled next to you...Nikolai?

You flinched lightly when you looked down to see his eyes staring directly into yours. He got up slowly and pulled you into his strong arms, moving the stray hairs--which had been mysteriously braided--out of your face and kissing your forehead lovingly. "How are you feeling, myla? Did some of the pain go away?"

You blushed as you felt his warm chest against you. He was shirtless, and all of the passionate hickeys you'd given him were exposed. Nikolai smirked cheekily when you stared at them for too long and watched your blush deepen when you realized you were wearing his white button up with nothing underneath. You looked so cute in the oversized shirt, so his.

Confusion coming back to you, you pulled away a bit, "Wait, Nikolai, where are we?" You frowned, last remembering being in the bath house, "The asylum...what happened?"

A sigh left his lips as he placed your head on his shoulder, "Well, after we had sex in the tub--by the way, you're pretty good at riding--" heat rose in your cheeks from his dirty comment, "back up was on their way and I didn't have enough time to explain things, so I needed to subdue you quickly for us to escape. That was why I had to use the tranquilizer on you. Sorry, you must've been shocked..." Nikolai stroked your hair softly, but you pulled back in bewilderment, staring into his softened eyes.

"Wait, why couldn't you just tell me that before? And how did you escape so fast? Where is this pl--" Nikolai cut you off suddenly, dramatically pressing a finger to your lips, "This is the Decay of Angel's temporary base...we're pretty far from the asylum and ran away like you wanted. I couldn't tell you anything because we needed to know if we could trust you." You tried to object at that, but your ex-patient only pushed his finger further to silence you. "And how we got here? Hmmm..." he paused to giggle manically, "Well, dove, that's a secret I can't tell yet...I'm a jester after all. I have tricks up my sleeve that I can't reveal to the audience--even to pretty girls like you~" You groaned as he replaced his finger with his lips and peppered kisses all over your flustered face.

He clearly wasn't telling you everything, but you didn't have any choice but to believe him. After all, you were still in one piece and out of the asylum, and he'd at least taken you to a nice place with silk sheets and roses. Nikolai wouldn't lie to you or harm you without a good reason, would he?

You pouted, "Fine, I believe you..." Nikolai grinned proudly and rolled off the bed. He stretched and threw you your black biker shorts and underwear that he'd pulled seemingly out of nowhere along with a loose white shirt that matched his uniform linen pants.

"Come on, pryntsesa, there's someone I want you to see."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You shakily stepped forward as Nikolai led you deeper into what seemed to be a basement. The walls were covered in pale bricks and dimly lit lanterns--keeping up with the medieval theme of the overall base. In the barely illuminated darkness, you could make out what looked like a jail cell. You kept trying to peer at Nikolai to ask him where exactly you were going and who he was taking you to see, but he only stared ahead with the same proud smirk on his face.

Maybe he was taking you to meet Sigma? Or the other members of the Decay of Angels? You shivered thinking about the fact you really were in their base; Nikolai's files had included that he used to work with a terrorist organization and the various atrocities they'd committed. Now that you were with them, you wondered if that made you a hostage or co-conspirator. You briefly recalled Dos mentioning "the target" in the basement. Was that who you were going to see?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you bumped into Nikolai's back, his soft braid tickling your nose. You muttered out a quiet apology as he flipped on a switch to brightly light up the jail cell you stood outside of. He turned slightly to face you and smiled gently at you as he brought you in front of him, putting his hands on your shoulders and making you blush. Some sudden cries grabbed your attention to what was in front of you, causing you to instinctively recoil at the familiar face staring back at you.

The boss of the asylum--your husband.

"Dear, is that you?" His raspy voice called out. Getting a full look at him, he looked worse than ever--sweaty disheveled hair clinging to his forehead; uniform tattered and stained with dirt, sweat, and what appeared to be ash; and a desperate, blown out expression on his face. You couldn't believe your eyes--Why was he here?

"T-that man kidnapped you, didn't he?" He got up from the floor and stepped closer in response to your silence, "L-look, I don't know w-what those terrorists told you, but that f-freak--" your husband shrieked, pointing at Nikolai but quickly bringing his finger down in fear, "--burned down the entire asylum and dragged us here. The new girls, the guards, they all got burned or severely injured." Your eyes widened as he started crying and wailing miserably, "A-and Lacey...sh-she's dead...what a brutal way to die...Oh God...Lacey--" The boss clutched his face as tears streamed down his face, mixing with the ash and further sullying his appearance.

Disgust and shock hit you, partly from the mess in front of you that was still reminiscing about the home wrecker he'd cheated on you with and partly because of the events you'd just learned--assuming your husband wasn't lying, Nikolai committing arson and presumably killing Lacey were details that he kept from you. You turned to face the jester, but he only kept his smile from earlier--eyes now devoid of warmth and stoically cold, gazing back into your dilated pupils before turning your head around back to the cell. You shuddered lightly: that was him confirming it was true.

Your husband's eyes twitched at your lack of reaction. He abruptly lunged towards the jail cell, clinging onto the cell bars and struggling against them to try to reach out to you. You screamed as his arm extended in your direction, and Nikolai stepped back to wrap his arms protectively around you, pulling you into his chest.

Your husband was banging against the bars, "Please! L-listen to me, darling!" You cringed at the fake nickname. "Forgive me for what I did in the past and save me--I'm sure h-help's coming. After this, I-I'll...buy you a new car and w-we can go on a nice vacation, start a f-family--start over, y'know?" He gave you a distraught smile, and you cringed at his pathetic display of promises. There was absolutely no way you could willingly go back to a man who'd abused and betrayed you.

Snot was now falling down his nose as he tried to fix his hair and steady his voice; he was practically yelling at you now. "Look, I'm sorry for cheating on you. Lacey was just too tempting...but I regret it, a-and now I know that I really love you." You weren't convinced, he was clearly just trying to save face. "S-shit!" He clanged against the bars again, knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping them, "I'm trying to apologize to you, dear. I love you--I'm wearing my ring for fuck's sake! C-can't you see that that freak's manipulating you?" He tried to make eye contact again with the white-haired man in front of him, but only cowered back in fright after meeting his intimidating gaze.

You could sense Nikolai glaring back as he tightened his grip around you. It made you frown seeing your husband trying to act like he knew everything about your relationship...Nikolai wasn't manipulating you; he loved you in the way your unfaithful husband never could.

"What are you talking about?" You asked sadly, completely shattering whatever pitiful resolve your husband had left. He gasped horribly and fell to his knees, realizing that you were too far gone, too in love with Gogol.

He stopped when he looked up and noticed your bare neck. "Your ring...why isn't your necklace on?" You traced around the empty space, feeling how light it was now that it was gone. Nikolai smirked in response.

"I--"

"She doesn't need it anymore." Nikolai replied darkly, cutting you off. He laughed a bit, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. He turned to you, startling you a bit. "Actually, you threw it away yourself, didn't you, dove? 'Cause you don't love him anymore." You nodded affirmatively, exasperating your husband even more as he resumed his sobs. Nikolai only curled his lip up coyly at his reaction and brought one of hands down to stroke your inner thigh provocatively as another brought your chin up to kiss you passionately. Heat flowed throughout your body as you blushed deeply. You couldn't tell how much time passed as you felt dizzy after he slipped his tongue in. The anguished cries in the background were drowned out as Nikolai pulled away slowly, making you flustered from the string of saliva left behind.

He licked his lips satisfyingly and gave you a peck before whispering in your ear, "Go on, ptashka, tell him how you feel."

Flush still on your cheeks, you looked directly at your old partner, who was now shaking in agony, "He's right--he's not manipulating me, either. I'm not yours anymore, and I don't want our old life back. I--" Nikolai was still stroking your thigh and was dangerously close to your panties. "I--mmh--I'm in love with Kolya now, and I want to be with him." You missed the pink on Nikolai's face as you saw your husband practically collapse, banging on the ground as he bawled awfully.

"Y-you fucking slut! How could you betray me like this? A-nd your p-parents--w-what would they think about this?" You backed away from the cell, bothered by his yelling. You wished he would shut up already.

Your husband's rambling was stopped suddenly as the sound of a gun cocking reverberated off the brick walls. It was from Nikolai. He placed it in your hands while gazing into your eyes sincerely. "Dove, you've been trapped in this man's cage--stuck on a ride you want to get off, but you keep riding. I want you to decide...If you want to keep playing his game or live your own life."

Your eyes widened at that. This was your chance to change your life and free yourself from the burden of your old life. There was no more chasing rainbows and hoping for an end to them, no more waiting for an inconsiderate man to love you. There was no sure promise of a better life if you saved him and went back to him...

Shit, what the hell were you thinking about? Could you really kill someone by yourself so easily?

Brain an absolute conflicting mess, you felt like you had a war in your mind. You couldn't think clearly as your thoughts jumbled together, and the intensity of the cold metal was making you unsteady. Nikolai noticed and wrapped his warm hand around your shaky one, bringing it up to aim at your husband's head.

"Do you want him gone, myla?" He whispered into your ear, placing your finger over the trigger. "All you have to do is shoot, and it'll all be over." His soft whispers drowned out the sound of your husband begging for his life and backing away desperately in the background. Nikolai gave you the same warm smile as before and his usually dull right green eye was sparkling with emotion. In a strange way, it was comforting, reminding you that you weren't alone.

You didn't remember much after that, just feeling the gun go off and Nikolai's hand over yours, followed by a deafening silence. You winced as you felt something wet against the side of your skin and blood splattered across Nikolai's white clothes. You didn't dare look at your own shirt. Your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, and you swore you were about to explode. Nikolai was grinning and laughing maniacally, while you could barely register your own emotions. You slowly turned your head to peer into the cell, but Nikolai put his hand out to block your sight. It was probably for the better, anyways. The stillness already confirmed your husband was dead.

Instead, Nikolai put his hands around your face and crashed his lips onto yours possessively. You closed your eyes as he muttered sweet nothings in between kisses and wrapped your arms around his torso, collapsing as your body slowly gave out and the gun dropped to the floor.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Nikolai kissed your forehead gently again as he wrapped a warm towel around your shivering body. After leaving the murder scene, you'd taken a shower together. You guessed it was like 'washing away your crimes' and getting clean again. It was strange, despite how lovesick he was over you, he didn't touch you sexually at all while washing your body. You thanked him and mustered up a small smile as you turned away from towards the mirror.

"Are you still shaken up, myla?" From your--no, our--first kill?" You stared into your reflection and looked down, basically giving him your answer. "It's okay, it's human to feel guilt and remorse after a death...even a horrible monster like me still feels that way, too!" He beamed at you, giggling contagiously.

You pouted back at him, feeling a slight burden lifted off of you, "Don't call yourself that--you're my lover now..." You mumbled, blushing slightly. You could love each other openly now.

He smirked and hugged your waist, the fabric of his clean white button-up--unbuttoned and exposing his toned six pack--and black slacks pressing against your skin. He'd gotten ready while you were spacing out in front of the fogged-up mirror, but you couldn't help stopping to admire how handsome he was.

"Ahhhh, I almost forgot...I never told you why I fell in love with you in the first place, did I, dove? You looked up at him curiously and he kissed the tip of your nose, "It's because you reminded me of my past self. Unknowingly in a cage, slightly different from the rest--I still remember the pretty little smile you flashed me the day we met and how sweetly you treated me...kinda unprofessional by the way...flirting with a crazy man..." Nikolai slowly trailed his kisses over your jaw and down your neck, making you start to feel warm inside, "I wanted to free you from the control of the outside world...I could tell you already had the willingness to change and just needed a small push." You yelped as Nikolai bit down softly to mark your collarbone and dropped the towel from your body.

You instinctively tried to cover up your body, but Nikolai stopped your arms, placing them on the rim of the sink instead. His hands left your waist to fondle your tit, drawing circles around the hardened bud while his other hand crept down your stomach to slip over your slit. A familiar rose dusted your cheeks as he kissed your neck softly and a moan slipped out from you, "A-ahhh, K-Kolya..." He nudged your jaw up towards the mirror.

The fog had evaporated away, so you could now see your reflection. To see yourself in such a lewd, shameless state, completely naked while Nikolai was basically fully dressed was...you couldn't describe it. He tenderly kissed your skin again before grinning at the mirror and taking his hand off your chest to lift up your face.

"Look how cute you are, dove. You really love my touch, huh~?" He pulled his slick-covered fingers out from your thighs and licked them clean. Watching him do it through the mirror was an enticing sight: it made you want more. Nikolai wasn't oblivious to your slight panting and trembling either. "Watch clearly as I make love to you, pryntsesa." His fingers dipped back into your cunt, parting your folds as his middle finger slipped inside of you while his thumb played with your clit. His other hand resumed massaging your breasts as he licked down his trail of kisses. You couldn't help but mewl at his actions, getting wetter watching the sight in front of you.

It was strange, he was typically rough and forward, but he was unusually soft with you this time. You didn't have time to think about why as he inserted another finger and went at a slightly faster pace, making you start to rock your hips against his hand. You moaned as the sensation coursed through your lower half, fingers gripping the rim of the sink and ass arching into his back, making you blush when you brushed against his clothed bulge.

"Mmmm~Kolya...your fingers...they're--ahh--s'good--"

"Y-yeah? You like 'em, pretty girl?" He heaved into your ear. He wanted to be gentle with you today, but the sight of you in the mirror and the way you were moaning his name so angelically was making him more hot and bothered than he wanted to admit. "C-cum whenever you want, 'kay?" Nikolai pumped his fingers more intensely into you, needy to make you finish as you struggled against his hold, the pressure making you lose balance and lean forward. He sturdied you against his chest again and captured your lips to pull you into a deep kiss, your tongues wrapping around each other.

The coil in your stomach got tighter as his long fingers pressed against your sweet spot, and his pointer and thumb coming together to pinch your sensitive clit finally sent you over the edge. You cried out his name as you came all over his fingers, staining the front of his pants and shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Nikolai gently kissed away your tears as you came down from your high, hugging your waist and caressing your sides.

You gasped as you heard him unzipping his damp slacks, and you looked in the mirror, your eyes traveling straight down to his hardened member. Nikolai started stroking his length slowly, pale pink tip sticky with pre-cum, as he lowly groaned your name. "S-sorry dove, I--fuck--wanted to play with you more, but I--ah--can't wait any longer..." Heat went straight to your core upon hearing that.

"I-it's fine, p-put it in..." You looked back at him sweetly before parting your folds with your pretty nails, and he grunted after seeing some of your arousal drip down your thighs.

"F-fuck, myla, you're so beautiful~" You hissed at the feeling of Nikolai teasing past your slit before entering you slowly. Even though he'd prepped you more than last time, you still whimpered lightly from the stretch, secretly making him smirk pridefully. He silenced your moans with another gentle kiss as he started thrusting inside of you, lewd sounds bouncing off the walls. Both of his hands went back to your tits to play with them again as he broke away from the kiss, groaning into your neck as he pushed deeper into your pussy. It wasn't enough for him, though.

He lifted your leg up slightly and bent it slightly at an angle before drilling his cock harder into your cunt, your hands pressing close to the mirror as your back arched, so he could go deeper inside you. Nikolai groaned and bit his lip as your walls clenched around his length. He soothed your pleasured cries by kissing down your back, pressing his abs against your hot skin. The foggy reflection of your tits bouncing up and down with his movements and the fucked-out expression on your face made him moan lowly, praising you for taking him so well.

You whined at the tight feeling in your core as your pussy sucked in his cock. The feeling was so good you were moving your hips back and forth to meet his thrusts, ass recoiling perfectly in response. Nikolai was still hyper-focused on leaving hickeys on your skin and squeezing your tender nipples, and his hot breath tickling your neck was driving you crazy. He groaned as you squeezed his length again, pre-cum starting to leave a creamy ring at the base of his cock.

"A-ahh~ I'm close--keep going, p-please--" You begged, desperate to cum and hoping he wouldn't edge you like last time. He smirked, pleased by how needy you were. He nodded, locking you in another messy kiss as his free hand traveled down to your hips. Nikolai pulled away from you slightly before re-entering you harshly, making you see stars.

You choked on your moans as you whimpered his name, pussy clenching around him even more. He was breathing heavily, and his thrusts were getting slower and messier, signaling that he was close, too. You got up slightly on your elbows and looked back at him affectionately, "I love you, Nikolai."

His eyes widened as he pulled your back against his chiseled stomach and buried his face into the crook of your neck, secretly blushing like crazy. His strong arms came back to wrap around your waist, making you yelp when you felt him all the way inside you. "L-love you, too, dove~" He rasped quietly as he came in your pretty cunt.

The warmth made you moan as you followed with your second orgasm, panting at the euphoric sensation. Only Nikolai could make you feel like this. He pulled out slowly and turned your fragile body around towards him, hugging you intimately and kissing your forehead softly. He tucked your damp hair behind your ear and kissed the spot again, "You did so good, myla." You hugged him back, nuzzling into his chest and blushing when you heard his frantic heartbeat.

"I'm so happy you're mine now..." He whispered quietly, kissing your head again before steadying you against the sink to wet a towel and clean himself off. Nikolai bent down a bit to wipe you down, and you impulsively ruffled his fluffy white hair, making him giggle and plant a small kiss on your inner thigh. You smiled adoringly.

So he has his soft moments, too, huh.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Your and Nikolai's hands were intertwined as he led you to a grand dining room. Apparently, you were supposed to have dinner and meet two other members of the Decay of Angels. You fidgeted nervously as you approached the grand dining table, which was decorated with gold candelabras and a cream cloth table runner. Despite the warm decorations, the room still had a slight eerie feel.

The two men seated at the end of the dining table looked up at you. Nikolai had given you some fresh clothes, lending you one of his oversized chunky cream sweaters and a silk midi skirt that he'd quickly sewn out of the sheets. From the occasion, you'd learned about his surprising little hobby. On the other hand, he kept on his white button-up--now loosely buttoned--and just changed into a different pair of black and white striped pants.

Nikolai placed his hand on your waist and beamed excitedly, "Sigma, Dos, meet Dove! She's my lover and is going to be staying with us from now on!" He pushed you forward a bit and you nervously bowed.

"N-nice to meet you both. Thanks for accepting me, and I hope we all get along." You cursed yourself mentally for not coming off as confident as you wanted, but you couldn't help but crack slightly under the two men's stares.

Dos, who was sitting at the head of the table merely sneered silently and continued glaring at you as you sat down next to Nikolai. The man sitting across from you offered you a bashful smile instead, "N-nice to meet you, too. I'm Sigma." You smiled back at him, secretly grateful that he was trying to cut the tension.

Nikolai clapped his hands, "Okay, we've gotten introductions out of the way! Let's eat now~" Your eyes drifted to the bowl of pelmeni soup and borodinsky bread in front of you. To be honest, you were starving but concerned since Dos hadn't touched his food at all and was still intently staring you down.

Sigma cleared his throat and spoke up again, "Y-you can eat the food. It isn't poisoned or anything. Ivan made it." Ivan? You didn't know who that was, but you nodded and thanked him quietly, trying a spoonful of the soup. You wished you could just scarf it down, but you decided to eat in a ladylike manner as to leave a good impression.

You weren't quite sure if you'd impressed Dos, though, who had finally introduced himself as Fyodor Dostoyevsky a few minutes later, resting his chin on his linked hands.

"Welcome. We're the Decay of Angels, a terrorist organization that commits murders and causes great fear and suffering--find a way to make yourself useful or you'll be disposed of--" He stared straight into your eyes, "--by me personally." Your heartbeat increased in fear and your hands went slightly clammy upon hearing that.

Nikolai put down his spoon, "Oi! Be a bit more gentle with her, will you?" Fyodor's gaze left you and he turned to Nikolai, "I know this is the first woman you've interacted with face-to-face in years, but you're already threatening her? Seriously? No wonder you're single..."

Fyodor's eyebrow twitched in response as Sigma turned away, obviously trying to stifle a laugh, and he and Nikolai glared daggers at each other. You hid your face in embarrassment as Fyodor scoffed annoyedly and dismissed himself from the table, taking his dinner with him. So much for getting along.

"God, he hates me now...he's probably going to murder me in my sleep..." You looked sadly at Nikolai, but he only grinned snidely.

"Don't worry about it, ptashka, Dos is just like that. Anyways, the mood's lightened up so much now that he's gone, right?" He giggled maniacally--unserious as always. Sigma chimed in as well, trying to cheer you up,

"Y-yeah! To be honest, I haven't spoken to him much, either, and I've been here for a while. He's just the serious, loner type." You weren't convinced fully, which he noticed. "I-I'm the general manager of the sky casino." You looked up and nodded, hearing about it before--a luxurious place for people to gamble away their fortunes and essentially be ungoverned and off-the-grid. "If you're not doing anything tomorrow, why don't you come and visit? I'll give you some money, on the house!" You perked up at that, taking up Sigma on his offer, much to his relief.

"I'll be going, too, just so you know." Nikolai butted in, making Sigma sigh and tell Nikolai he wasn't invited didn't have to come with. The two bickered back and forth, Nikolai being insistent on going to the casino with you two.

You giggled at that, they were just like real friends. Perhaps your stay here wouldn't be too bad--at least now one more person liked you. Sigma and Nikolai stopped arguing after hearing you laugh and looked at each other before smiling softly at you. You yelped as Nikolai jumped at you suddenly to attack your face with kisses, making Sigma cringe.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You'd finished dinner with Nikolai and Sigma, successfully being cheered up from the previous tension. It wasn't too long-lived though, as Nikolai had asked you to get Fyodor's dirty dishes. You tried to object, but he'd simply just waved his hand at you while he resumed washing the dishes with Sigma.

Knocking on the door to Dos's room, you hesitantly cleared your throat and spoke, "Can I come in? I just need to get your dishes." You heard him shuffle around and click his tongue,

"The door's unlocked. Come in." You gulped before turning the knob and entering. The stone room was cold and barren, with the only 'decoration' being a table holding several different monitors and keyboards. The room was only lit by the screens, which were circling with code and all sorts of data. Fyodor didn't even try to acknowledge your presence or turn around, so you just tried to step around the various cords on the floor and grab his bowl in front of him.

He was reading a book in his chair and still didn't speak a word, but you could feel his glares cutting into the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You grabbed the bowl and turned back around--again trying to avoid stepping on any cords--and your eyes curiously tried to see what book he was reading.

He rotated his chair briefly, "You know, being a housewife isn't--"

"Crime and Punishment?! Oh, I remember reading that book in the asylum's library. It's a great commentary on the transformative power of guilt and the possibility of redemption, isn't it?" You chirped, instantly regretting your impulsive input on the book. Why did you have to be such a bookworm?

Fyodor's eyes widened slightly as he closed his mouth, truly caught off-guard, "Yes, it is." He went back to his book as you shyly smiled and made your way through the cords, back finally turned away from him. He paused, "You can borrow it if you like. I can give it to you tomorrow after breakfast."

You stopped in your tracks, turning your head slightly. You were only met with the sight of his chair, though. "R-really? T-that would be nice, actually...Thank you." You trailed slowly towards the door before leaving. "G-goodnight!" Flustered, you closed the door quickly, missing him saying it back and the pale rose that was dusting his cheeks.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Life with the Decay of Angels had been going surprisingly well. It had been two months since Nikolai had taken you to the base, and you'd adjusted in that time span.

You got close with Sigma, who admitted he was a bit intimidated and scared of you at first because you were Nikolai's lover, but he was relieved you weren't exactly like him. Fyodor had become more open and accepting of you, and you both mostly connected over the literature he would share with you. Nikolai tried to keep you away from him as much as possible, though he would never tell you why...

You had become a decoy of sorts and helped Nikolai on the ground with disguises and espionage. Currently, you were both infiltrating Mersault. You had learned that the true reason for Nikolai coming to the asylum was to get a hold of the space-creating ability that both Mersault and the asylum were built with. Fyodor was hoping to harness it to build a secret, impenetrable base for the Decay of Angels.

Criminal profiling and socialization skills from your previous attendant position had come in handy when going undercover, along with your "feminine charm" that none of the other members possessed. Of course, Nikolai was all too excited to have you working with him, never missing the chance for quickies or subtle flirting and teasing. You couldn't exactly say that you hated it, though...

Whenever you walked around in public, you would occasionally see a "missing" poster with your face and information on it. You would always discreetly rip up and toss them, though, having no desire to be found or go back to your old life.

After all, you'd finally crossed the threshold from the ordinary world to a new life with your true lover. You'd been freed, and you were never going back.

˚₊‧꒰ა bad ending໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[lukesandromeda]

gimme ur fav luke headcanons 😏

DATING l. castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

a/n: hi soleil it spooks me what u will do with this information but i also got so carried away with this for some reason and i did in fact not proofread it

• he’s a thief. so obviously as soon as you point out something in the store, uttering a quick “that’s pretty,” he’s nodding and pushing you along to go to another section of the store, mumbling something like, “sure is.” so as soon as you’re not looking he’s breaking the tag off the item and sliding it into his back pocket because he knows that if you were to see him, you’d scold him for his habit.

and when he hands it over to you later without an explanation, you’re asking, “how did you buy this?” and when he looks away nervously, you’re quick to lecture him about why what he did was wrong—but he doesn’t care; he gets to see the smile and appreciation from you.

• hearing constant “i’m so sorry” when he comes late to hang out with you. he’s the head counselor and has so many responsibilities to the point that even begging mr. d to let him go and hang out with his girlfriend will never work.

so when he finally does have the time to hang out, he’s exhausted—beads of sweat from sparring evident on his forehead as he takes the backpack he had slung over his shoulder and tosses it to the ground.

and he’s trying to give you as much attention as he can as he shares stories from his day with you, but his adhd’s getting to him and his eyes are so, so heavy and—you finally ask him if he just wants to go to sleep, and he’s jumping out of bed and changing into comfortable sleeping clothes.

soon he’s back in bed with you, comfortable and grateful enough that the few time he gets with you is not as stressful as what he had to deal with before.

• omfg sparring is the worsttttt with him. he makes you schedule two whole hours, yapping about something like, “i’ll just tell any other kids who wanna practice to wait until tomorrow,” and you’re telling him how it’s not fair for you to take that practice away from someone else, and he’s rolling his eyes and leaving your cabin after pressing a sloppy kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “see you tomorrow.” when you do see him tomorrow, he’s already working on his footwork and smirks as you arrive. the next couple hours are brutal. there are no breaks. at that point, why did you even bring a water bottle?

because every time he has you pinned down and you’re grunting, your throat dry as you look over to your water, he tilts your head back to him with his sword and gives you a look that tells you to focus.

and every time he gets his touch on you, he’s ordering, “again.” he wins. “again.” he wins again. “again.” so many times that you repeat the same moves, and every time, his sword is lightly pressed against your chest and you’re muttering in surrender.

after the fifteenth time of hearing the word again, you drop your sword to the ground and shove him, knocking his sword out of his hands. you break down into tears of frustration, and he’s quick to explain to you that he’s not trying to make you angry—just teach you how to protect yourself.

• usually he’s the one to hold you in his arms and let you speak your mind; he’s usually your rock. but some nights, when maybe a new camper has gotten claimed, or maybe someone got a birthday gift from their godly parent, he’s laying in the crook of your neck as he suppresses his tears against the soft skin there.

he’s talking for hours, babbling about gods know what. you find yourself wondering: how did he go from talking about nick, his newest cabin mate, getting claimed as a child of apollo, to talking about what he would name a dragon? you didn’t mind, because at least now he’s not crying about his father and the stupid quest he’d sent him on.

eventually, after a long day of a fake smile and the stressful teaching of a six hour sparring class, he falls asleep, his last words of “i love you” resting on his lips.

• he’d been happy the entire night—the blue team, his team, had won capture the flag again. he’d had so much fun at the celebration afterwards, (or at least it seemed,) but now it’s time to get ready for bed. it’s 1:30 am, and you’re washing off your makeup in the bathroom mirror when luke comes in, reaching for another rag.

he stands next to you in the mirror, watching your reflection for a moment before his eyes flick over to himself. his jaw clenches, his eyes trailing up and down the left side of his face before he swallows and wets the rag.

he begins to wipe the dirt and grime off his face, slowing down when the cloth traces the scar on his cheek. he drops the rag in the sink and sniffles, walking out of the bathroom and into the bed. once you’re finished, you join him in your room and climb into the bed. you lay down, and he rolls over and rests his face in the crook of his neck.

you wonder why it feels weird for a moment, and then you realize he has his head tilted oddly so that the left side of his face is hiding in the crook of his neck. odd, you think, considering he’d been complaining about neck pain the day before. you lift his head up, hand tracing on his left cheek and he freezes, body tensing.

“luke?” you ask, your eyes searching for a reason to his odd behavior. you look at where your fingers are tracing; on the scar. you understand, and for a moment, you see his eyes fill up with tears.

you swallow and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his scar before resting your forehead against his. he closes his eyes with a pained expression. moments pass, and then he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck again, but this time he doesn’t hide his scar.

[acapelladitty]

Just a cute lil idea that’s stuck in my head even though it’s probably very out of character for the ghoul but cooper carrying reader through the wasteland when she has a fever and bonus point if he lets her wear his hat

Aye aye captain 🫡 have this little thing! 💋

And In Health

Pairing: Cooper Howard/Fem!Reader

Summary: Falling ill as you travel through the wastelands, Cooper is forced to take care of you. Sadly, not in the assassin way.

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Dropping against the wooden information board which was too rotten and devoid of actual intel to be of use to anyone, your body chose to add to the mess surrounding the small board you as you drop your head to the side and vomit once again - the burn making your eyes water as you retch pathetically.

The fourth time you'd been sick that day, not that you were counting.

Having moved in silence for the last while, Cooper had been maintaining a rapid pace which you struggled to meet as your worsening condition hadn't proven too much of a hindrance until stopping for a moment had apparently allowed each element of your various ailments to assault you like a bonafide firing squad just waiting in the shadows.

"Not looking too hot, sweetie. Something you ate?"

"Probably." Groaning out the word, the taste of bile stings in your throat as you gaze up at him with bleary eyes. "Knew that meat you roasted up was foul."

Standing with a straightened spine, Cooper gazes back at you and you can feel the heat of his assessment like a host of ants crawling across your sweat-slicked skin.

"Didn't do me no harm. Quack doctor in the next town would have what we need for you to get that sweet ass back on the move. Chem, stim packs, hell - he probably has shit stowed away that even I wouldn't take. And that's a very, very small list."

Not trusting your voice as you keep your focus on breathing evenly, a sick hope alights in your gut as you blink up at Cooper and take in his contemplative musings.

"Can you walk?"

You shake your head carefully, every movement making your brain feel inflamed as even that small motion sparks fresh nausea in your throat.

Cooper grunts with displeasure at that, making no effort to hide his growing irritation with your pitiful state.

"Can you defend yourself here while I go and fetch what we need? That nasty little projectile skill you've developed there should keep the worst of the raiders and deathclaws away."

With inhumane effort, you raise your hand enough to flip him off very shakily before dropping your wrist back to your lap, the mild effort making your joint tremble and ache.

With a deep sign, Cooper shifts his body as he bends towards you. Strong hands lock around your frame as they pull you heavily to unsteady feet before swinging you up into his arms - the motion making you dry heave as you carefully tilt your head away from his body.

"Can't have you dying on me, sweetie. You owe me twenty caps after proving to be the shittiest gin rummy player I've ever had the misfortune to share a table with."

Held bridal-style against his chest, the little showcase of strength is enough to make you hum out an interested noise as his hands wrap around your knees and upper body. Borderline delirious as your vision swims and shakes, you swear you can hear the tiniest hint of genuine concern hidden beneath the sarcasm in his tone but you chalk it down to the ravages of infection.

The scent of him floods your senses as you tilt your head to push your face more roughly into his chest, desperately trying to block out the sun as it threatens to burn the life out of your eyes. Leather mixed with the definite tinge of coppery violence which always seems to hang around him is the most potent scent he usually carries but this close, with your nose practically touching his skin, you can pick up the faintest notes of sweat and natural musk which his lifestyle often hides.

"Coop-Cooper?"

"For someone on the brink of death you sure do seem to want to yap your hole a lot." Grumbling, he indulges you regardless as he begins to stride quickly in the direction of the town hosting the quack doctor he seems to know. "But what do you want?"

"Will...'m gonna die?"

"Oh, I doubt that. Too stubborn for sure. Why? You got a final request in mind? I don't sing so you're shit out of luck for a funeral chant."

Too out of it to think up anything witty as a comeback, a hiss escapes your lips as his head shifts and the sun glares down into your squinting face - the sudden brightness like an inferno alighting behind your sockets.

Sighing, Cooper bends his body enough to allow his curved knee to support your legs as his hand slips free from beneath your knees. In a single fluid movement, he pulls the weathered cowboy hat from his head and drops it across your eyes; the instant darkness soothing your pains a little as the scent of fresh sweat and leather swirls across your senses.

"Thank you." You squeak out your gratitude, the second word more of a noise than a word as Cooper slides his arm beneath your knees - once more pulling you close as he continues his journey.

The hat acting as a delightful barrier to the harsh rays of the sun as he refuses to acknowledge your thanks, your weakened grip on remaining conscious seems to flee you in an instant as you allow the steady beat of Cooper's heart to lull you into a restless nap.

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 3

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers- slow burn/case talk/yapping Spence

Part 2

In which you and Spencer help with a case virtually from his apartment after his hospital stay. 🧸 🖤

You had always thought time to work in mysterious ways. It could heal any wound yet allow it to fester. It could bring people together and rip them apart. Time was an enigma, especially to you. How much time did it take to recover from something like a near death experience?

How much time did it take to recover from trauma without allowing it to cripple?

“Y/N, my office,” Hotch calls out to you.

You’ve been on desk duty for a week, going crazy truthfully.

“Yes?” You ask when you see him.

“Reid is behind discharged today,” he informs you as you sit.

You don’t really know why you had to be called into his office for that information.

“The team is flying out to Atlanta. I’m going to need you and Reid working virtually. Are you able to see him home and work with him from there?” He asks.

“I don’t see why not, is this pertaining to the suspected serial down there?” All you knew was that people in the ghost hunting and supernatural communities were turning up dead.

“Yes, we will brief you via video chat while we’re on the plane,” Hotch nods.

You leave the office toying with a mix of emotions. You were eager to work on an active case, happy that Reid was being discharged, and nervous to see him.

Following that night you read to him, you recalled the quote in question that he had partially written.

One from Pride and Prejudice reading;

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

You had not mentioned it to him, nor had he said anything to you. When you showed up two days later with a copy of the book to read to him, he got agitated. He asked that you read something else or don’t at all.

It was strange, his behavior was strange. He had been happy to see you yet distant. Then you found that very same page with that portion of the quote crumbled up and thrown on the floor. Why?

You knew what that quote was about, it was about the moment Darcy realized he was developing feelings for Elizabeth despite not realizing it.

Your heart pounds as you think about it. Could he be feeling that way for you? Or you him? You feel your pulse in your throat as you recall the feeling times you stared to long at his waist or his hands. Perhaps listened too hard when he spoke because there was something soothing in his voice even when he was annoyed with you.

Why had that quote come to mind while you were reading to him that first night? And when and why did he trash it?

You were once again back to being irritated by him but not enough to hate him. You were more elated that he was better, that his voice was back, and that he was cleared to go home.

You had a feeling that he insisted on helping with this case. You were fine with that. You could do this, you would just push the strangeness of Jane Austen’s words and Reid away.

So you swallowed those feelings, cleared your throat and stepped into his hospital room for the last time.

“Time to go home,” you announce as you enter.

He was spinning himself around absentmindedly on the doctors chair when he came into view. He smiled, delighted most likely to be going home. He was dressed, freshly, and showered. Save for the incision scars on his throat, he looked like himself. You think the scars somehow make him more sexy but you swat the thought away as soon as it occurs.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” his voice is low and raspy.

You hadn’t heard him talk yet and it took you off guard. Not because he sounded hideous. Quite the opposite, actually. It came off as sultry, like he was half asleep. Shit.

“You’re welcome,” you grin.

You’re standing in the doorway still, aware that you’re not sure what to do with yourself. What was your problem? Damn, it’s just Reid. Annoying old Reid. The same brainiac Reid.

Yet sexier somehow, probably because he almost died taking a bullet in your stead.

You collect all of the discharge information and prescription for his liquid diet formula grossness and before you know it, he’s easing into your passenger seat.

“How long until you can eat proper solid food again?” You ask as you try to fill the calm silence in the car.

“They’re going to reevaluate me in two weeks,” he answers, his voice like sand paper.

“Sorry you probably should talk as little as possible,” you wince because it sounds painful.

“Talking strengthens the vocal cords,” he informs. “I came dangerously close to never being able to speak again. In fact about 73 percent of patients with this type of trauma lose the ability to talk completely.”

You smile to yourself. The way he needs to blurt information is so endearing.

Your phone pings with the BAU group chat:

“Wheels up in 30,” from Hotch.

“Okay we need to get the laptop set up at your place by the time they take off so we can sit in on the case briefing,” you punch the gas to ensure you get there on time.

Reid sits up a little in his seat.

“Are you scared of my driving?” You ask.

“No?” He lies. You narrow your eyes playfully but don’t respond.

You and Reid are patched in with Garcia and the rest of the team just in time. Reid seems slight uncomfortable in the wooden chair with the way he has to hold his neck so you help him with some pillows.

“Cara Lynch, Jane Wilbur, and Mason Riley all found murdered and dismembered in the old mill plant on the east side,” Hotch starts.

“Ten days later, James Marlon and Ryan Finch met the same fate in a separate infamously haunted place,” JJ says.

“Ghost hunting seems to link all of these victims,” Hotch says.

“Were they recording at the time of their deaths?” Reid asks in a gravely voice.

“Tripods recovered, no cameras or audio recording equipment. It seems the unsub took it,” Morgan answers.

“Manner of homicide?” You ask.

“Shot, with arrows in vital organs. Each victim shot twice,” Prentiss says as she flips through the photos.

Both you and Reid seem to wince at the mention of being shot. But neither of you acknowledge it to the other.

More details are shared about the limb removal possibly being a forensic countermeasure before the team starts spitballing profile points.

"The use of arrows by the unsub suggests a need for a sense of precision and control. Arrows are often associated with hunting, so the unsub may view their victims as prey. Additionally, the fact that the victims are ghost hunters could indicate a belief by the unsub that they are somehow deserving of this punishment. It's possible that the unsub sees themselves as some sort of vigilante, targeting those who they believe are meddling in the supernatural realm,” Spencer muses. His speech is slower but the team is patient with him, more in tune with what he has to say than usual.

“I would point of alternatively that the arrows symbolize a form of justice or retribution in the eyes of the unsub. The unsub may believe that the victims, in their pursuit of the supernatural, have disrupted the natural order or crossed a line that they deem unacceptable. By using arrows as a weapon, the unsub may be trying to send a message that their actions have consequences and that they are being punished for their perceived transgressions,” you add. Reid glances over at you but says nothing.

“Given the victomology I can believe that this unsub believes the ghost hunters have crossed some sort of line,” Rossi says. “Maybe he’s religious?” Prentiss asks.

“The-“ Spencer starts but you inadvertently cut him off. He’s unable to speak over you like he used to.

“Sorry,” you squeeze his arm but continue. Just as you start talking, his hand moves to your knee. “In Christianity, arrows can symbolize strength, protection, and divine intervention,” you say. You could continue but pause for Spencer to add his thoughts, your mind glitching at the contact of his hand on your knee. The jeans didn’t seem like enough of a barrier for how heated your skin became.

“The unsub may view their actions as a form of divine justice or punishment for those they believe are engaging in sinful or forbidden practices,” he finishes simply, and removes his hand.

He doesn’t seem upset by you speaking over him which is almost out of character. He wasn’t nearly as aggravated with you anymore. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned in this new attitude… or lack thereof.

The team signs off and you and Spencer are instructed to work on the geographical profile until further notice.

You find yourself absentmindedly inspecting his endless rows of books while he uses his protractor on the map. The geographical profile had been relatively easy to put together since there were only two locations.

The tension and silence stretches out between you, things unsaid. What was that?

You turn your attention back to him when he stands, placing photos on the white board.

“To go searching for ghosts only to become one, kind of ironic right?” You sigh and add to the board with him.

“Unfortunate, but the risk that urban explorers and paranormal investigators put themselves at in these locations is relatively high. It’s why I don’t personally see them as low risk victims,” he says.

“True but they aren’t a high risk, nothing indicating drug use, an inclination towards petty crimes, or sexual deviancy,” you reason.

“Trespassing is a petty crime,” he insists. You narrow your eyes on him as his long fingers press a magnet over a crime scene photo.

“And part of the job,” you retort.

“The same could be argued about shooting a bank teller during a robbery,” he turns to you with his eyes up. “Doesn’t make it any less a crime.”

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath fanning against your face.

“You-“ you begin, pointing your magnet at him.

“I what?” He taunts you, dares you to finish that sentence. The rasps in his voice goes straight to your head. He outwitted you, you both knew it. He plucks the magnet from your hand and slaps in onto the board.

“I’ve resigned myself not to compete with you anymore,” you smirk and step out of his vicinity which fogged your head.

“Hardly a competition,” he murmurs.

“What is with you?” You whirl on him. “It’s like you don’t know how to act all of the sudden. You want to be an asshole? Fine, I’m used to that. But don’t touch me and then turn on me. It’s confusing,” you explode.

He blinks, stunned by your fury. Then he smirks.

“I get under your skin don’t I?” It’s a cocky rhetorical question.

“Your mood swings do,” you bite out.

“I don’t think that’s it,” he drops into the chair and picks up a pen. “Did you know hatred and desire are two of the most powerful feelings we experience?”

You knew that, of course. Fine line between love and hate and all that.

“As such it’s easy for them to become intertwined,” he whirls the one around his fingers. He clocks you watching the movement, seeming to further prove the point.

“Are you speaking from personal experience? Or just yapping like you always do?” You take a step towards him. He raises his eyebrows.

“Yapping?” He laughs.

“Maybe you should stop talking, your voice is becoming hoarse,” you say indignantly. How dare he insinuate that you hated him and now want him. Neither were true. You think.

“What if I don’t? What if I decide to recite every word of the Lord of the Rings novels to you?” He lifts his chin, his voice teasing.

“You don’t have the gall,” you grumble in annoyance. Mr. Eidetic memory with his very own weapon. You lean place your palms on the back of his wooden chair, briefly glancing at the case file in front of him, hoping he wouldn’t…

"When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton…”

“Not another word or something awful might befall you and you may end up in the hospital again,” you flick his ear.

He lulls his head back and dramatically feigns choking to death. Before you know it both of you are laughing.

Somehow your hand ends up resting on his shoulder, causing the laughter to slow until you both were painfully aware of the physical contact.

You clear your throat and gesture at the file.

“What was, um what is her cause of death again?” You already knew but you needed to say something to distract from the sudden shift in energy. “Which organ was pierced…” you clarify.

He glanced back and upward at you, those eyes full of something you’d never seen from him. A sense of uncertainty, vulnerability, and need?

You’re unsure why, as though being controlled by a force outside of yourself but you trail your hand up his neck, gently massaging the back of his head. Goosebumps prickle his neck as he turns his attention back to the table. You don’t miss the white knuckled grip on the pen.

“All of them took an arrow to the heart, that’s a shared trait,” his voice is low, distracted.

“A signature?” You hum and run your fingers through the longer hair at the top of his head. The strands are soft, moving between your fingers gently as you soothingly massage his head.

You hear him groan deep in his chest and he’s inadvertently leaning his head into your touch. You swallow hard, unsure about this sudden need to touch him. More than that, you wanted to hear other noises he could make.

“Second arrows hit various organs between the victims,” he leans forward from your grip to lay the photos out.

The absence of him causes you to frown, but you turn to the white board.

“He’s a skilled marksmen if he could hit them all in the heart in the darker locations where they died,” you state the obvious and write it on the board.

“Military training?” He asks.

“Not with bow and arrows, he may have had personal lessons. Ask Garcia to check with archery ranges inside of the geographical profile,” you say.

He shoots Garcia a text and places his phone down awaiting results.

You’re scribbling on the board when you hear him approach, he’s behind you, so devastatingly close that you can hear him breathing. His body heat warms your back, you falter but keep writing.

Now your body is tingling because he leans his mouth closer to your ear, fanning his breath across your neck.

“You spelled ‘toxophilite’ wrong,” he whispers. You flatten your hand over the word and smudge the blue ink.

“Maybe if you weren’t standing so close,” you hiss.

“Do you want me to move?” He reaches up and sweeps your hair back over your shoulder. You don’t respond, you stop breathing. Stop thinking.

You shudder when his lips find the soft spot of your neck, small kisses planted delicately until your own moan escapes you.

“That pesky line between hatred and desire,” he tutts and steps back.

You bite your tongue, after all you teased him first. The simple touch of his lips on your skin had your body heated up and your insides twisted with need.

You contemplated throwing the marker at his big head as he leaned over the table but refrained.

It was probably for the best because Hotch and Garcia rang in on FaceTime.

Whatever the hell was happening with you and Spence was going to take time. Luckily, the team had given you both the leeway needed to heal. Who knows what’ll happen in the mean time.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Rafayel: Questions Before | NSFW

This is technically part 2. I wrote a fic a few months back labeled "The Questions That Keep Us Up At Night". It was meant to be a stand alone fic, but here we are. Needing to answer some questions. This part has some grinding in it, but the actual smut is in Part 3.

❧ Pairings: Rafayel x Reader ❧ Warnings: Kissing, Making Out, Mentions of Safe words, Lots of Consent, Clothed Grinding. ❧ Synopsis: You and Rafayel have a sit down discussion and talk about what you can expect when you guys finally do the deed while in his Lemurian form. ❧ Word Count: 5.5k Part 1 - Part 2 (here) - Part 3 - AO3

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Rafayel

Questions Before

Quiet nights were becoming more and more regular the longer you dated Rafayel. There was no longer a need to go on extravagant dates (although he still took you out at least once a week to somewhere nice). You guys had been going out long enough that just lounging on a couch while watching some movie was considered a good date night. Not to mention with how busy your schedule was you didn’t always want to be going out and doing things. Rafayel had been more than willing to accommodate those lazy afternoons with you.

It led to now, curled up on a couch with him while watching some sappy romance movie you two had sworn you’d be making fun of, then somehow got absorbed into the plot. You were curled up on his chest at this point in a lying position with Rafayel’s hand on your hip to keep you in place. It was serene in Mo Studio for the moment as the characters on screen went about their business, trying and failing at getting together.

You felt a small shift underneath you as Rafayel readjusted his stance, and you looked up at him to see what he was doing. The moment you did you were locked into staring at his gradianted eyes. You smiled, not knowing how long he had been watching you at this point, “Did you get bored of the movie?” you asked, readjusting yourself so your chin was now propped up on his chest so you could stare at him without the need to crane your neck.

His smile was gentle instead of the usual teasing look he loved to wear, “Nah, I was just thinking…” he said as he stared back at the screen. The main character had a puppy who was currently yapping, trying to crawl onto the love interest's lap while the two were trying to hang out, “You remind me a lot of that puppy on the screen right now,” he finished. He laughed when he noticed the slight pout on your face while staring up at him with narrowed eyes.

“I am not,” you tried defending yourself after you felt his hand squeezing your hip. You could see the sparkle of mischief in his eyes as he smirked, “Besides, if I’m anyone, I’m the main character. Look, she’s cuddling with her not-boyfriend but totally boyfriend.”

“You’re practically identical to the puppy, though. Even the yapping sounds just like you,” he pointed out as he glanced at the screen and then back at you. The puppy had successfully laid on the man’s lap and was yapping in his face, and you had to admit the position was exactly like yours. Still, you couldn’t let him win just like that. You could never let him win.

“If we’re comparing each other to animals, then I should probably compare you to Reddie,” you began, “They way you’re always blowing bubbles and staring at me whenever I walk by. Betta fish behavior,” you could see Rafayel staring as he started processing your words, then that teasing smirk turned to a frown.

“That’s not fair, Reddie isn’t even in this movie,” he began and you shook your head. You began sitting upright on the couch, and Rafayel looked like he was about to drag you back down when you began speaking up again.

“He’s in the room with us though,” you turned to the table that housed Reddie, “Isn’t that right, Reddie?” the fish did nothing in response, however you were correct in your deduction of him staring at you whenever you were over. He even blew a few bubbles which proved your point as you looked back at Rafayel with a giant grin plastered across your face.

Rafayel made an attempt to drag you back down, but after noticing you weren’t budging he stopped, “This is defamation of character,” he whined; you chuckled and poked his forehead.

“You’re fine, Raffie,” you teased him then attempted to go back to watching the movie. Rafayel had other plans, however, as he sat up with you and wrapped his entire body around your own, almost suffocating you in his chest.

“You’re bullying me. You always bully me…all the time,” he complained, but you could tell that he was just being dramatic once again, and let out a small hum as you seemed to think back. Ya, you did bully him a lot…in your defense he also bullied you all the time as well. He would at least tease you almost every chance he got, which in your mind was bullying.

“I do not bully you all the time,” you attempted to defend yourself by lying through your teeth. You could feel Rafayel when he let out a breath of amusement at your comment. It was the worst lie he had ever heard coming from you, which was saying something.

“Okay fine, you bully me five days out of the week then,” he said as he allowed you a little breathing room, but his arms were still securely around you as you sat on his thighs. You smirked and were about to say something about it being a full time job when your eyes caught the scene that was playing on the TV.

How you went from a cute scene with a puppy to the characters in a bedroom, the male lead tossing the female onto the bed and getting between her legs…well it was a movie. Still, the cogs in your head were turning as you stared at the screen, and Rafayel clearly noticed the shift in your attention. You didn’t remember romance movies going into detail about these things. It almost had your legs squeezing shut as you imagined Rafayel pressing you to the couch to put his head between your own thighs.

“You were so bored earlier,” a lie, “What caught your attention?” Rafayel was teasing you as he looked at the screen to watch the scene play out. It was nothing overly explicit since it wasn’t a movie focused on it, however it did suddenly make you remember a conversation you had with him.

“Hey, remember like two weeks ago when I was asking you all those questions, and you refused to answer me, and then you told me we could discuss the details later?” you said it all in one quick breath as you looked at him.

You guys had a discussion about having sex in his Lemurian form, and somehow after that it hadn’t been brought up at all, which was a damn shame. You were waiting for Rafayel to bring it up, but after two weeks you had a feeling he was waiting on you to start it off. What better time than now, where you were both watching a sex scene in a sappy romance movie while you practically straddled one of his thighs?

You could feel how Rafayel’s entire body seemed to go tense for a moment. You looked up at him with a small frown, scooching closer so you were properly wrapped up in his embrace. Without even needing to think, his arms around your waist were dragging you onto his lap as if he had been conditioned into the response.

“Ya, I remember that,” he said, not able to really look at you. It was easy to see the flush that was forming on his ears and you had to stop yourself from pinching them. “You had a notebook about it, right?” he muttered the last part and you nodded. You pressed a quick kiss to his chest, causing him to gasp and look down at you. He was always so sensitive to your kisses that you couldn’t stop the pride from rolling off you. Just knowing you had this gorgeous and talented man under your finger was something you still had a hard time believing.

“You said we could discuss it…can we do that now?” you finally asked, letting him decide. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and you knew this subject was a little…touchy to him. He still hadn’t even shown you his Lemurian form yet, and here you were wanting to fuck him in it. Rafayel honestly liked the idea, but it would be vulnerable for him, something he still struggled with in your relationship.

He swallowed a lump forming in his throat before daring to speak, “You want to talk about…doing it…right now?” he finally said while looking down at you. You could see in his eyes that he was embarrassed, but also intrigued. You swore the man had the most expressive eyes you had ever seen on someone.

“Well ya, because I’m thinking about it and we both know how badly I want you all the time,” The way you said it made Rafayel look surprised, “I have to stop myself from jumping your bones whenever you open the door and say ‘hi’ to me,” you finished. 

In your defense you thought you had been very obvious in this, but from how Rafayel looked like he was processing all this new information, perhaps you had been mistaken. Had he really not noticed how much you wanted him all the time. Any time he attempted to get frisky you were already soaking through your damn underwear for him.

You wanted to always be wrapped up in him, to feel him, just to be close to him. Rafayel was very needy when it came to you, but after getting a taste of his affection you think you had somehow become worse. It didn’t just end with sex either. While it was always mind blowing to be with him, you enjoyed the little things just as much.

Moments like this where you were watching a movie you just wanted his arms around you, and to listen to his heartbeat. Going for a small walk on the beach and collecting shells. Even sitting on the couch near him while he painted, and you two let the comfortable silence wash over the room for hours. It was a little pathetic, but it’s what this man managed to do to you.

“Wait…you have to…what’s been stopping you?” Despite his flustered expression, he honestly looked surprised you had been holding back this entire time. Intimacy certainly wasn’t new with the two of you at this point, but if he had known you always wanted to do it he would’ve indulged you. 

It was something he could never tell you, but he had been waiting so long to feel you against him. If he knew you’d be fine with making up for all that lost time, then you probably wouldn’t ever be leaving his bed. Hell, he was about five seconds from asking you to just move in with him so he could start and end the day off how it was meant to be. It also meant he had an excuse to hold you at night and in the morning, keeping you by his side  longer.

Still, despite his inner monologue going wild, his face was red at this point and you had to mention it, “You know, sometimes you go redder than Reddie. I get a little concerned. Are you gonna faint on me after hearing how badly I want your dick in me all the time?” You poked his cheek and he turned to glaring with a pout. He looked just like a cute kitten now and you chuckled.

Rafayel just rolled his eyes, clearly some of the tension disappearing with your teasing. He swore you had…such a way with words, “Okay, you wanted to talk about it, so let’s talk,” a beautiful way of changing the subject. After giggling a little more you tried clearing your throat to speak.

“Alright so we agreed about fucking while you’re in your Lemurian form, right?” you began and he stopped you.

“Agreed to have sex. Make love. Make it sound more romantic,” he corrected you.

“Fine, we agreed to make sweet and tender love while you’re in your Lemurian form,” he seemed pleased with this change, “This is going to happen, right? Like we both agree and consent to this, right?” you began asking, your tone turning more serious.  Even Rafayel could tell the shift in your tone as he got a little more serious as well.

You needed his explicit consent, you wanted to know he wanted this as much as you did. You’d never forgive yourself if you found out he was pressured into doing something. This man would do almost anything for you, even if he disliked it. You didn’t want that, you wanted him to want it as well.

“As long as you’re comfortable with it, I am too,” he said, matching your serious demeanor;  he looked at you and his eyes held a conviction in them, “In fact, I really want it,” his voice turned a little huskier as he cupped your cheek, just tenderly holding you in his hands. You nuzzled into the touch as you let out a small smile, satisfied with his response.

“Alright then it’s time to discuss things in depth,” you began and Rafayel adjusted to his position so he was leaning on the backing of the couch, fully prepared for a longer conversation. All the tension left the room at that moment, going back to the usual comfortable flow you guys kept, “So is there anything I should expect or mentally prepare for? Do you change emotionally? Are you more vulnerable? Do we need a safe word?”

“I shouldn’t be changing emotionally…or at least any more than I normally do when we’re intimate. We could have a safe word for the both of us…and I am more…vulnerable…” he began and you hummed. “I’m more…sensitive like that. I’m not used to being touched intimately in that form,” he admitted to you. He looked bashful at it, which was adorable in its own right. He was currently avoiding eye contact with you as he spoke, staring off to the side of the studio.

“Have you ever had sex in that form?” you asked him, your hands on his chest as you played with the shirt there. You waited patiently for him, letting him take his time for every question you asked.

After a moment of silence he spoke up, “I never had sex until I met you,” he admitted easily. You paused for a moment, staring up at him with wide eyes. He hadn’t told you this before. The first time he had been the one to initiate it, and he was damn good with his hands. He didn’t last that long, but neither did you. You had chalked it up to being the first time doing it with a new person had gotten him more worked up than usual. You had deflowered Rafayel without even knowing it.

“I…damn are you just a sex god or something then? There’s no way you were that good the first time. I mean..well you also knew it was my first time but…damn Raf,” you said and he looked at you with a bit of pride in his eyes. He was smirking as he adjusted his legs so you could wrap your own around his waist and properly straddle his lap.

“Obviously I had thought about doing it with you before I made my move. I did my research,” he stated and then realized what he said. He could see that Cheshire like grin gracing your face as you giggled; he just knew you’d never let this one go. He was about to cover your mouth with his hand, but you were faster in taking his wrist and moving it back down.

“Awe, so my Raf was reading articles and watching porn to find out how to please his partner?” you began and he let out an annoyed groan, “I am so honored by your dedication in making me cum, babes,” you leaned up and kissed his nose. He seemed to soften back up at the sweet gesture, giving you a small smile. He relaxed again, noticing how you weren’t going to go full on with your teasing at the moment.

“Alright, so this means I get to take your virginity twice now,” perhaps he was wrong. Another annoyed groan left him, but you could see a hint of a smile there. He pinched your hip with his free hand in response, making you squeal, jumping a little in his hold.

“Do you have to state it like that?” he asked, his voice sounding whiny again. You stuck your tongue out at him, which prompted him to do the same in response. You both stared at one another and then you broke it by laughing at how stupid you two were.

“Yes, yes I do,” you were beaming now, “Back on topic, I’ll find out about your anatomy and stuff as we…make tender and sweet love,” you said with some exaggeration, “Do you mind if I experiment a bit with what things taste like and how you respond to certain touches? Like the whole nine yards. I want to see every response you have to me,” you were excitedly stating, and Rafayel went back to looking flustered at your blunt attitude. You basically just told him you wanted to give him a sloppy blowjob while he was in his Lemurian form, so how else was he supposed to act?

“I…wouldn’t mind,” he cleared his throat, “This is to help answer your questions, after all,” he trailed off a little bit at the end. He could feel your thighs tense up at that comment, and he shot you a confused look.

You had a frown now as you shook your head, “I mean it is to answer my questions, but it’s also to have fun and to be closer to you. It’s not just about me, I want it to be about us.” you said as you took the hand that was still on your cheek. You kissed the palm of his hand and watched his eyes widen at the cute gesture. 

“Alright, if that’s what you want…I know it’s definitely what I want,” he said, causing you both to smile. You watched as he placed his hand back on your hip, holding onto you with a lax grip. You shifted on his lap as you tried to sit up straighter, trying to act like you were just getting back to business. It was comedic how you both managed to go back and forth with being serious then teasing, but you guessed that was just how your relationship had always been.

“Alright then…do you wanna be top or bottom for this? Or are we just gonna see how things play out?” you asked next. You leaned in closer to Rafayel, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and pressing your chest against him. Your chin was propped up on his own chest as you stared up. The hands on your hips gently played with the hem of your top as he seemed to think about this.

“Um well…” he began, trailing off in thought, “We can see how you’re feeling after you see…things,” he looked down at you. His eyes were uncertain about something and you couldn’t figure out what he was suddenly so nervous about, “It might be better if you’re on top so you can control the pace,”

You then paused for a moment, lost in your own thoughts. Rafayel wasn’t exactly average sized, while he wasn’t overly thick he was long. You thought his dick was honestly perfect; it managed to hit deep inside of you without making you feel like you’d be split in half. “Are you saying it’s…bigger than…?” the look he gave you said it all.

He let out a small sigh, “Well it’s different and…yes, bigger,” as Rafayel gauged your expression he could see how they managed to light up at the prospect. Maybe getting split open by your boyfriend’s dick every now and then wouldn’t be so bad…right? Right. 

Not to mention the different part. You hadn’t told him, but you had read a copious amount of fantasy porn about Lemurians in the two weeks you had asked him about it. Literally consuming as much as you could so you could figure out more questions and theories to try on him. You knew for certain there was a lot of misinformation, but you were almost positive that some of it had to hold a little truth. Maybe there was a Lemurian porn writer out there and you read their stuff?

Rafayel rolled his eyes dramatically at your excited expression, almost pouting, “Of course you’d be excited over this,” he muttered, causing you to chuckle. You leaned up and rubbed your nose with his own, allowing him to melt back into you, but the pout on his lips remained.

“Raf, I get two different types of dicks from a single boyfriend. Who needs toys when you have a cute boy right in front of you, right?” you explained and he looked at you as though offended.

“You use toys? Without me?” he gasped, and it was only then that you realized you normally didn’t bring toys into the bedroom with him. You could recall a few times with handcuffs and a vibrator, and once where you tried a cock ring…not to mention the strap on. You guessed you could bring over your collection at a later date to show him.

“Shut up, this isn’t about that,” you said with a dismissive wave, “So where exactly are we going to do this anyway? I mean the bathtub could work hypothetically, but it might be a little cramped for all the things I wanna do. If I were just riding you then that would be a different story…” you also didn’t want to just do it in the ocean. The last thing you needed was sand in unmentionable places because you were so horny you let him fuck you into the shore.

“This entire island is privately owned by yours truly, you know,” he reminded you, “I have the saltwater pool outside. The tanning area should work as long as we do it at night. I can also bring out the awning for more privacy if that’s what you want,” how had you forgotten? You two had literally been swimming in it for half the day. Still you didn’t think he’d be so willing to do it there. Sure drones and cameras weren’t allowed near Mo Studio since it was private property, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about someone seeing him like this.

Rafayel could see the hesitation in your eyes as he leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead, “Don’t worry about it, I go out there to swim all the time when you aren’t here,”

You felt your shoulders relax for a moment before his words caught up, “Wait…why only when I’m not here?” well now he had to deal with your ass being offended. You two had a staring match as he shifted on the couch uncomfortably, “You know what, doesn’t matter. You’re allowed to be in that form whenever you choose. Sorry for pressing,” 

“Awe, were you feeling bad?” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your cheek this time. You grumbled, hating how you did feel a little bad. You opted to flick his forehead and one of his hands immediately shot up to press down on the patch you had abused, “Owchie…” he rubbed the spot with a pout.

“Okay, so we’re gonna do it in the pool outside. So location is all checked off…so like will your tail come out when you touch water or…?” You knew it didn’t. You had gone swimming with him, but oh that look of confusion he was currently giving you gave you life.

“When I…touch the water?” he muttered back and you nodded your head vigorously. You didn't give him any context as he tried to think about, and with how serious you were looking at him he genuinely couldn’t tell if it was a joke. You did your best to keep a straight face as you waited, but after a few moments of him staring at you in confusion, you decided to clarify.

“Ya, like those mermaid movies and shows!” you said it like it was the most obvious thing in the entire world, “Like ‘H20: Just Add Water’ and ‘Aquamarine’,” you watched as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he worked through your stupidity.

Your boyfriend needed a moment to truly absorb your stupidity.

“You know I’ve heard about bogus Lemurian things…but this…this is a first,” he said in the most disappointed way you could. You couldn’t stop the smile from finally breaking onto your face as you began laughing, and he now knew for a fact you were teasing him, “You’re messing with me,” he stated as he leaned in so your foreheads were touching, glaring down at you.

You gave him your most innocent expression, “You never answered me question though,” you batted your eyelashes, but he wasn’t going to buy into you innocently asking him a question again.

“I don’t answer stupid questions,” he was now smiling from your antics, which was a win in your books.

“But babe, those are the only questions I know how to ask,” you hated how Rafayel nodded at this statement as he agreed with you, “Wait, you’re not supposed to agree to that. You’re supposed to tell me ‘there’s no such thing as a stupid question’,” you whined.

“You know I don’t like lying to you,” absolutely rude behavior, “Now are we going to finish this movie? I think we missed like half of the plot already,” you tilted your head back to look at the screen to see what Rafayel was right. The movie seemed to be in its climax at the moment, and the last thing you had seen were the characters fucking. How long had you two been talking? It didn’t seem that long, but apparently you were sorely mistaken.

You turned to Rafayel, “Okay one final question then,” you decided on, your arms on his shoulders trailing to the front of his body; you started to play with the opening of his shirt again. You ran your hand over the exposed skin there, gently going over the mole right on his chest and you watched the shiver go down his spine.

“Is it going to be another dumb one?” he asked, not breaking eye contact with you. He did grab you and drag you closer, pressing you down in his lap in response to your gentle touches. He was always so sensitive it was entertaining to see him getting a little riled up just from touching his chest.

“Shockingly no,” you said while leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck. You heard his breath getting caught in his throat as you pressed another one, your lips lingering on the skin there. The flutter of your eyelashes tickled him a bit as he squirmed in his spot.

“Then ask away, pearl,” the slightly breathy tone of his voice was alluring as he waited for you. You could feel him underneath you with the current position and you shimmied your hips. You could see the bob of his throat as he swallowed thickly, trying to hold back any other noises as he waited for you. Your boyfriend was trying to act like he wasn’t getting hard, but you could feel the twitch of his cock underneath you.

“When are we going to do this exactly…because I keep having wet dreams about it,waking up hot and bothered, and I just really want to,” you said, your voice almost whining. This time Rafayel did groan at your words. You lifted up to look at his flustered expression, his eyes slightly narrowed as he stared at you in a slight daze. You watched his pink tongue poke between his lips to lick them, clearly enjoying your honesty.

“When’s your next day off?” he managed to ask, rolling his hips up into you, allowing you to feel just how turned on he was getting. You could feel how his pulse quickened under your fingertips, loving the effect you had on him. He was so responsive to you it was flattering, which caused you to shoot him a pretty pleased look.

Rafayel rutted his hips up into you again, slowly grinding against you at a leisurely pace. You could feel him against your cunt and heat began pooling between your thighs, the slight throb of arousal making you groan, “Tomorrow, I don’t work tomorrow,” your voice came out smaller than normal as you felt his clothed length grazing your clit now.

Rafayel let out a small grunt as he stopped moving his hips against you, going to grab his phone next to him. You let out a disappointed whine that he stopped moving against you, but you were also curious as to what he was doing. Typically if you got him going, that was it; he wasn’t about to stop for anything. You leaned over to his phone and saw he had the weather app open and loaded.

“It says it should be pretty warm tonight…did you want to?” Rafayel glanced up at you. Your eyes widened at the realization of what he was implying. Heat was crawling under your skin at just the thought as you ground down on him in response, trying to get some stimulation because damn you were already soaked.

“Really, we can do it tonight? Right now?” you said, your voice excited and breathy. Rafayel looked amused at how you reacted, “Please Raf, let’s go. Any second that you’re not in me is a second wasted!” you chuckled. You began rolling your hips into him in earnest now, leaning into his neck and pressing more kisses along his jawline. You gave him a few teasing nips right where you remembered his scales appearing. A drawn out moan escaped Rafayel and you felt how his cock was throbbing underneath you now.

You felt Rafayel’s hands going underneath your thighs, “Hold on tight, okay?” he said. You didn't hesitate, your arms wrapping around him as you nuzzled into him, happily continuing your assault of bite marks and kisses all over the exposed column of his neck. You were planning on leaving marks all over him tonight so when he went to his next art exhibition in two days everyone would know what he was getting up to. Especially because you knew Rafayel was never shy in showing off your marks.

Your center of gravity shifted as Rafayel stood up and held onto you securely, the ease in which he did it always surprised you. He tried playing it off like he was some weak artist, but you knew the muscles underneath. Knew how strong he could be when he decided to not play coy.

“You’re really fine with doing this tonight? Right now?” he asked as he began walking you through the art studio. He was careful to avoid any paint brushes, and all the other scattered supplies that littered the floor. The organized mess was something that came second nature to him as he navigated to the large sliding glass doors that led right to the pool area.

“Get me outside and take off my pants, and you’re going to see exactly how fine I am with it, Raf,” you teased him and he groaned at your statement. You bit down on his shoulder, watching as his skin flushed bright red and he adjusted you in his grasp, trying to get you away from leaving marks so he wouldn’t have to worry about his legs giving out on him.

“I didn’t realize how much of a pervert you could be,” he said as he worked the door open a bit awkwardly. He managed to hold onto you in one arm, repositioning it so your ass was on his forearm so he had access to his hand. The balmy air outside made you squirm, holding tighter to him as if his body would somehow help you escape the humidity.

“Really, you’re just now realizing,” you said with a huff, “You didn’t get the hint when I asked if it was fine for me to hold your soft dick in my mouth while you painted?” Rafayel stumbled at your blunt statement. It was true though, this man somehow made you feel feral all the time. It’s not like he was ever complaining. 

Rafayel not commenting about your perverted statement was enough to let you know he was so done with you. You could only giggle in his grip as he made his way out past the main area of the pool. The moonlight shone off of it, making it seem more like a painting than reality. You had always adored the pool as soon as the sun went down and it turned into silvery ripples. 

The breeze from the ocean did help cool off your skin though as Rafayel made his way to one of the lounge chairs he had set up outside. He adjusted you in his grasp to help him set you down easier, letting your butt hit the soft, waterproof fabric of the lounger.

Aaaaaand there we have it. The second part will have all the nitty gritty and will be...hefty.

[mantequillamcwhoremick]

Why did you start shipping Bunny? What made you realize their characters had a certain dynamic you enjoyed?

Alright, story time.

My best friend is the one who introduced me to South Park and they started out by showing me select episodes from season 4 and forward, and around the time we were at like season 10ish they informed me what like popular ships exist in the fandom. Namely Creek, Style (I had already seen Tweek x Craig, it was actually the first SP episode I ever watched lmao, and I could kinda see why Style was a thing because they're best friends with lots of moments that CAN be read as romantic), and Kyman (I could also see why it was popular lmao) but when they mentioned Bunny it surprised me. Like these two characters barely/never interact on screen, but my friend just said "Trust, you'll see why later in the show." Instead of waiting to see why later in the show, the idea infested my brain and it clicked anyway.

At first it was just vibes, they seemed sweet and compatible. Let's over-articulate the "vibes" a little further; Keep in mind these are all conclusions I was able to draw about these characters pre season 14 (Pre "Coon & Friends", pre "The Poor Kid" and pre "Going Native".)

These two come from opposite ends of the family trauma spectrum; With Kenny it's neglect, with Butters it's an overly controlled/sheltered environment.

Butters is a yapper, Kenny is a patient listener.

Butters gets cut off/belittled very often for his yapping whereas Kenny isn't one to judge or dismiss.

But Butters isn't the kind of yapper who just likes to hear himself talk; he engages a LOT with whatever someone tells him, and always takes his conversation partner seriously. Kenny is rarely asked for his input, he's rarely ever even referred to directly in a room full of people, but rather just a spectator.

Based on this, I could see Butters rambling to him directly and give importance to Kenny's input and opinions, something we rarely see with anyone else. Funny that this was even confirmed to be true in season 16's "Going Native"

(idk these are just instances that kind of prove to me how Butters values & respects Kenny and his side of things, by either outright saying so or just referring to him in conversation and asking for his input that I rarely see anyone else do. This even gets driven super far in the vaccination special where Kenny is just completely and utterly patronized by his best friends & treated like their child)

So all of these things, without ever even having them seen interact, just made it make sense that these two characters were very compatible in a healthy and sweet way. They both have heavy trauma, but the ways that they cope/express themselves likely wouldn't be triggering for the other. Rather they'd kind of be good for each other to heal; Butters is the least apathetic character in the show, so he wouldn't ever make Kenny feel ignored or neglected. Kenny has seen & lived through enough shit, making him incredibly unprejudiced, he'd never even think to make fun of any of Butters' quirks he's been punished and belittled for.

As I got to the Coon & Friends trilogy and "The Poor Kid" and the whole Kenny lore bomb, something about the two of them being the most tragic characters in the show just kinda fucked my head even worse.

Picking that apart; it was kind of this underlying fact that Butters would believe Kenny about his deaths BECAUSE he's so naïve and gullible. Again, Butters would take Kenny seriously and value his input and emotions, he'd be the ideal person for Kenny to finally relieve some of the burden he's forced to carry alone. Matt and Trey are cowards for not making an episode about this like c'mon seriously it doesn't even need to be romantic

I'm not gonna get further into "Going Native" right now, mostly because the episode speaks for itself, has been probably talked about most in the fandom and kind of confirmed a lot of the things I already assumed about these characters (but if you'd like me to pick it apart feel free to send another ask), so instead I'm gonna tell you why I started going insane over them on a fandom level. Funnily enough, it was the Style-centric fic "The Scenic Route" by Hollycomb.

The coolest thing is Hollycomb actually published The Scenic Route BEFORE "Going Native" aired, and the way that they handled these characters and their relationship still fucking blows my mind. Dude, they're not even the focus of the story. They're a side story. A background ship. I'm not saying the main storyline isn't entertaining lmao but the Bunny background storyline was probably just so much more my taste I think? Especially how imperfect and messed up it started out, continued and went on. It implemented the canon fact that Kenny did kind of just not care about Butters and how his fucked up parents treat him, just like the rest of the town. Like Kenny is kind and all, but he can also be very apathetic and indifferent, and there's lots of instances in canon where the other boys treat Butters like crap and Kenny just watches it happen.

(Episodes: "Good Times With Weapons", "Marjorine", "Cartman Sucks", "Butters' Bottom Bitch" and "The Tale of Scrotie McBoogerballs")

(mind you, they're also just 9 year olds though lmao)

The way Hollycomb wrote how Kenny slowly started caring and falling in love with Butters even though he initially just intended to use him for venting about his own problems just stuck with me so hard. Like yes. That makes so much fucking sense. Kenny needs someone to take him seriously, and he doesn't need that person to be someone he cares about. He picks the easiest person available. But the slow realization that he's started pitying, then caring, and then deeply loving and wanting to help and save this person? That shit hit the SPOT.

Anyways, what I'm saying is that this fanfic was the reason I started thinking about possible ways they could get together and stay together, a lot of them messy and tragic and every bit wholesome as it is entertaining and fucked up. Kenny and Butters' traumatized asses finding comfort in each other is just something that became so special to me. I started out reading & writing Style, but whenever I tried to craft my own fics I'd always be thinking so much about what Kenny & Butters were doing and what their story is until I thought "damn dude why aren't you just writing about them instead". and thus I fell down the rabbit hole. enter chaos plan lol

This is such a tiny part of why I love these characters and why both of them separate AND their dynamic is incredibly comforting and interesting to me, and I haven't even mentioned anything about the many foil/parallel narratives around these two; Kenny & Butters as Kenny's replacement. Mysterion & Chaos. Princess Kenny & Paladin Butters. Philanthropist Dr. McCormick & capitalist scammer Vic Chaos. Especially the last one what the fuck I could write my bachelor thesis on Post Covid Bunny.

Thank you so much for the ask, anon. I'm so happy I got to ramble about my favorite little assholes <3333

[allpiesforourown]

TRANSMIGRATOR LAN ZHAN YAP SESH‼️ (I say as the main victim of all your yap seshs)

Thank you slug for letting me yap even after I've subjected you to this au a thousand times

Kind of a svsss au with transmigrator Lan zhan ↓

Lan Wangji whose absolute fav character ever is Wei wuxian. He's read about him since wwx was a poor homeless child to when he was adopted by the Jiangs to when he became the cultivation world's hero. He HATES how this sweet, selfless, friendly character gets put through one terrible situation after another.

His room is fucking full of wwx merch. Oh he's not popular enough? He's gonna have a body pillow custom made with Wei Ying on it. He has an office job where people are terrified of him and then he goes home and holds his Wei wuxian plush for hours.

Then the final chapter of Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation is posted and wei wuxian GETS KILLED. All the major sects worked together to launch an attack on the burial mounds. All he ever did was want to protect the wens!!!!

Lan Wangji is so fucking mad he dies. And he wakes up in the body of Lan zhan aka hanguang jun, his most hated character.

Hanguang jun is an uptight morally self righteous bastard who was offered Wei Yings friendship time and time again but rejected it! Wei Ying would call him by his birth name and instead of seeing it as affectionate, hanguang jun would get angry at Wei Ying for being informal. Not only did he constantly get Wei Ying into trouble for harmless (loveable and boyishly endearing) pranks, he also publicly criticized him for his demonic cultivation, not knowing Wei wuxian had no choice since he gave up his core.

He wakes up to xichen asking if he's alright and immediately goes "WHERE IS WEI YING"

Xichen: uh... Wei wuxian? I didn't know you two were that close

Lan zhan: I have to see him immediately

Xichen is concerned (his brother had a qi deviation) but when Lan zhan is still insistent on it for days, he says he's welcome to accompany him to the Jiangs gathering.

Xichen: but I thought you hated large parties

Lan zhan: I'll go if Wei Ying is there.

Xichen: ....🏳️‍🌈❓️

They arrive and Lan zhan can barely breathe when he sees how gorgeous Wei wuxian is. He's in his yiling laozhu outfit, so this is post war but he hasn't gotten in a fight yet so it's pre saving the Wen clan. Lan zhan steps closer and calls his name and wei Ying sneers

Wei ying: Lan zhan- hanguang jun. I thought you hated me too much to even look at me

Lan zhan: I don't. Please call me Lan zhan like you used to.

Jiang cheng: *raises an eyebrow*

Wei Ying faltering: uh. Haha what's gotten into you-

Lan zhan stepping forward and grabbing wei Ying by the waist: come back to gusu, Wei Ying. I need you.

Wei wuxian's face is bright red and he's speechless. Jiang cheng thinks hes hallucinating. Xichen is going ah so it is 🏳️‍🌈 indeed. Everyone else at the party is staring because there's no way this is happening. Nie huaisang is choking on his tea because he's the authour and that's definitely another transmigrator.

[silverzoomies]

Cunning Linguist

pietro maximoff x reader smut

warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence

word count: 3,990

a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol

he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!

Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.

Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam. 

Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?

He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.  

Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.

More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.

Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?

Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.

Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.

Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time.  If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.

He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?

The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?

The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it. 

But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?

Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.

Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well. Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.

Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.

Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.

Anyway, about you…

Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.

For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.

Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.

Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something. Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?

Pietro Speed Maximoff.

Eh, maybe not.

In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.

Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.

You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.

Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.

Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.

The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips. 

His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.

A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?

Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.

Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue. 

But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.

Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.

You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.

“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.

No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.

A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”

You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below. 

Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.

Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.

Or…Agnes’s place.

Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.

You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want. 

Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.

And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.

Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.

Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.

But first…he really should satiate your hunger.

One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red. 

Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness. 

The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.

Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.

Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.

Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.

You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.

Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.

Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.

Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization. 

Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.

Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.

He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.

A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.

The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.

Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.

He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.

Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.

After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.

You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.

With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.

Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.

Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”

Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.

“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”

[willmiwi]

Thought I'd analyze Eddie's reaction to Buck coming out to him bc i don't think it's given enough credit.

First thing after buck tells him tommy and buck were on a date is Eddie looking confused, I don't even think what Buck said really set at all. He made the connection of the date and the first thing he wondered was "wait. Tommy's gay?".

Then, goes the question "so .... You two were...."

And he looks... Shocked, kind of hesitant too, doesn't even end the sentence, maybe afraid he misunderstood somehow.

Doesn't matter because Buck comes to the rescue to finish it. He smiles fondly at Eddie like his hesitance is endearing and kind of like saying it's "hey it's okay, yes we were on a date, you don't need to hesitate."

Buck is immediately insecure though; it's been a second and Eddie Still looks like someone has dropped a bucket of cold water on him. I think he's more focused on how this new information shocked him than doing what one does after someone comes out to them: reassure them. It's okay though, he's just surprised, nothing weird. And so Buck asks. "Is that weird?"

And he's looking at Eddie with that analysing look, searching for something and Eddie's quick this time. Pulled out of his own head.

"No . Absolutely not." You just took me by surprise there.

Buck's still looking at him like that, like he doesn't really believe it. And so Eddie's quick with a joke too, he looks kind of nervous? From now on? Like we Needs this situation to feel lighter somehow.

It works. Buck finally relaxes and laughs.

Then, this scene:

And Eddie's just trying to reassure him, telling him what every queer person hopes to hear when they come out, "this doesn't change anything, I still love you"

But Buck.... Oh buck, looks like that's somehow Not? What he was hoping to hear? He literally pouts, breaks eyes contact and goes "that's uh. That's good to hear"

Doesn't sound like he means it though.

He goes on:

Eddie proceeds to yap on best friend @ best friend advice: If he doesn't call u back he's an idiot.

But then. THEN!!!!

Eddie's reaction is what gets me the most here so I'm getting a gif that's a bit longer so u can see the reaction he has to that line:

Again. Same reaction. But from Eddie this time. Pouts, rises his eyebrows defeated, and pointedly looks away. All while looking upset and Not all all overjoyed about his best friend is crushing on someone. Hello?

Eddie then gives him some advice about not giving up and Buck gives it right back to him. Eddie takes that opportunity to all but Run off to talk to Marisol:

I think it hits him then that as much as he wants to run, to think about this on his own without prying eyes that want an answer from him right then and there, and just, Sit with it, That this is..kinda Huge, and maybe he should just put his feelings aside for a bit and reassure Buck a bit more. Like he doesn't want there to be any hint of doubt that Eddie's not okay with this.

So he stops by the door, turns around and they hug:

That's it ! I just think this tells us so much about their relationship, especially since after this Eddie doesn't seem to want to hang out with Tommy anymore. And the few times they do he doesn't look like he's having the best time, if u compare it to before (he knew about Buck's crush).

If you got here, thank you for reading!

gif creds: @beets @livelovecaliforniadreams :)

[crazylittlejester]

You should totally yap about Warriors and his journal!!!!! 🫶

@taddy-cat @amateur-ace @hero-of-the-wolf

*breaks knuckles* okay okay okay

SO: I have this headcanon (which I cannot remember for the life of me if it’s something I completely made up or if he has a notebook in LU/his game-) that Warriors has a journal that he carries around with him pretty much everywhere. It’s not his first one, he has several he’s already completed filled out that are locked up somewhere secret back home, but these journals have EVERYTHING in them

These journals started out as places to take notes when he’d first joined the army and was getting a little bit of an education, he didn’t want to forget anything so he wrote it all down. Then they were just PAPER, something he could use to write letters to home, but as everything started happening the things these letters contained weren’t things he could tell his family and they never got sent or torn out of the journals. They didn’t necessarily contain military secrets (not at this point), just things he couldn’t tell another soul but he couldn’t continue to keep in his head. He needed to get it OUT, so he wrote it down in his native language that no one around him really understands so that information and those thoughts were safe. If anyone DID get a hold of those books they’d never understand it, and they’d at the very least be significantly slowed down because they’d have to take the time to translate it. The writing is cramped and frantic and the pages are tear stained in his more letter like entries and it’s damn near illegible at times, but its a way for him to just get it OUT so he can shove it away

Some of the journals from the war have pages torn out, completely or with just enough page left to read a little of the words on them. Those missing pages were burned and forgotten, they held memories Warriors himself can’t recall anymore. There’s a reason they’re gone

These journals are something he’s always kept on him, since the age of 16, and eventually he started using them for MORE than just to write letters that would never be sent, he started using them once again for notes. For strategies and plans and details of war. Battles planned out, notes for fellow soldiers, what worked what didn’t, documentation of battles won and lost. Some of these pages were translated and written out in neat, perfect handwriting and turned over to Zelda after the war to be preserved in history books, others to be used to better the army

Every page is dated, but the journals arent sectioned into “letters” and “notes”. If he wants information he has to scroll through and look for the date it was written, everything’s mixed together, separated by quick, harsh lines of ink between blocks of text

These books contain the hopes and dreams of a teenage boy, detailed analyses of the hyrulian army, the rage of a young man, ramblings of someone who felt truly broken, burned memories, meticulously sketched out fields with hastily drawn troop positions, a doodle or two from Mask

But more recently: In addition to this, one he keeps on him currently contains notes on the others. At first their weak points and important information about them ranging anywhere from “Wind has a peanut allergy” to “Don’t mention goats around Twi unless you have time to listen to him yap”. In those first weeks these notes could certainly be interpreted as him planning to do wrong, but that was never his intent. He has notes on his fellow soldiers weaknesses from his own era because he’s so used to studying people and helping them grow. He SHARES these notes with them, not that they can read them, but he tells them what he notices in a kind way and helps them improve and marks their progress

These books ARE his brain, he’s a damn genius who can’t organize his thoughts. He needs to see it all in a physical way in order to process it, though he’s not so stupid as to mention anything in these books that could be used to take down the queen, even if they are in another language. He’s not going to risk it

anyways thats my headcanon lol

[ijwrsmff]

Hey, i hope ur having a good dayy...heard yu wanted some yandere arcane asks...how about vi(romantic) with a naïve piltover darling (generally soft and clumsy as well) fem reader please!!💖💕

Thank you so much that's so sweet!!! I'm getting to requests really late, but I'm doing my best XD thank you for requesting and your patience! Even though it's really late, I hope you enjoy ^^

Soooo glad the second season is coming out soon, I crave it so bad XD

Words: 1,642

Vi was in Piltover, doing what she joked was a small heist. It was just her this time, Vander having cracked down on them all not returning to top side in fear of their safety. She made sure Powder was safe first, and left her in the boy’s care. She had received word there was an event going on, a series of stalls and shops along the road. It was the perfect opportunity to blend in and steal from all the rich assholes who could buy out the whole street if they wanted to. 

…That was her plan anyway. 

It started off simple enough, showing up right in the middle of the day when it was the most busy. She paid close attention to the people who looked like they had more money than others…and with how idiotic people could be, it wasn’t hard to tell who could afford the most. Starting off, she took small items they had purchased that she thought could go for more underground. She didn’t expect to be bumped into as a girl fell to the ground. 

As it were, you only wanted to go to see what the shops had to offer. You weren’t paying much attention though, and bumped into something…or someone. Both you and the person fell to the ground, and you looked up at her from the ground as you whined and rubbed the spot on your leg you just knew would be bruised later. She was laying next to you, and you caught sight of her snarl. You jumped up looking her over. 

“Crud! Are you okay? I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you! Did I damage anything you’d bought? I can’t believe I did that again! Gah!” You whined and looked at her as if seeking forgiveness. She looked baffled, and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I can pay for anything I broke! Here, let me buy you something, too!” You took her hand, and she accepted it. You couldn’t tell what expression was on her face, but you were terrified you’d made a bad impression on this woman. 

“Uh…you don’t have to. I have what I need.” Vi spoke, and she seemed guarded. It was almost as if she thought you were tricking her, not believing you were really being this nice to a stranger. “You hurt, cupcake?” She said, seemingly coming to a conclusion in her mind. She brushed off your shoulders, touch lingering only briefly. Her touch was rough, but it didn’t seem to phase you. 

“I’m not hurt! Not any more hurt than I usually am when I fall anyway…” You mumbled the last bit, and shook your head. “And it’s okay! I insist, it’s the least I could do!” Your smile was wide and bright, and somehow contagious. As soon as you locked eyes with her, she smiled back at you, though her smile was much more akin to a smirk. 

She leaned forward so your faces were near each other, and her eyes glazed over yours and she continued to smirk as she pulled back. “If you really insist, I have something in mind.” Her original mission had subsided in her mind, and it seemed she had a new plan she wanted to see through. She was still being cautious, but she would play along for now. This could prove to be entertaining, afterall. 

You yapped away, Vi barely getting any words in since giving you her name. She didn’t seem to mind though, and listened closely to everything you had to say. It didn’t take long to learn all about you, considering the fact that you told her basically all the important information. It was fun! You got to tell her all about your job, your close group of friends, and your favorite hobbies and pastimes. Vi even asked questions to learn more, despite you not picking up on her prodding more into your personal life. 

She had tried to justify it as gathering intel for her next trip with Powder and the boys, but she was growing more intrigued by the second. Though as you reached the stall she had escorted you to, you looked at her. “Oh! A flower stall! Are you getting flowers for someone? That’s so thoughtful!” You giggled, and looked at the wide array of different flowers local to your home and even exported from further off. 

Vi smirked, before putting on a small act. She sighed deeply, and looked deep in thought. “I’d love to get her flowers, but I’m not sure what kind she likes. There’s too many to choose from, it’s overwhelming…what kind do you like?” She looked over to you, eyes full of mischief. She only smiled wider when it seemed like you didn’t gather the implications. 

“I think these one’s here are the prettiest, and the bouquet has a good variety of flowers! So no matter the room, you can probably make the flowers suit it perfectly!” You thought carefully about your answer, wanting to make sure she could get the best possible ones for the girl she wanted to get them for. It was no trouble, you did bump into her, so it only seemed fitting to help out however you could. 

“I see…” She said, and picked up the bouquet you chose. “I hope she’ll like these.” As she said it in a thoughtful but playful tone, before handing them to you. “So, do you like them?” Her hand was outstretched, and you looked at the flowers in confusion. She could practically see the gears turning in your head, and tried to wait to see if you’d understand. 

“THEY’RE FOR ME?!” You said, way louder than you meant to. It brought a light blush to your cheeks and you pouted at her. “But I’m the one that bumped into you! I should be getting you a gift!” You looked around the booth, and quickly picked up a bouquet of flowers you thought would suit her. Paying quickly, you copied her motion of giving her the flowers. 

“These are for you then! They have colors that remind me of you and your hair, so I guess it’s…a trade?” You thought carefully, trying to decide if you’d be satisfied with a trade rather than providing something to her from your stumble into her. The flowers weren’t very expensive, so it didn’t really seem fair. 

“How sweet of you…” Vi said, a glimmer of something in her eyes that you couldn’t place. “I’ll happily accept these flowers from you, cupcake.” She gave a wink, but by now she knew you wouldn’t understand the undertones of her words and meaning. She’d have to be more direct to get through to you. Stepping up her game seemed in order, but not just yet. 

“Let me at least buy you something else!” You pleaded, wide eyes as you looked around the stalls to find something else you could give her for her troubles. But Vi looked to the sky, cursing under her breath. At the noise, you tilted your head and asked, “Is something wrong?” You sounded worried, and it only made her heart swell further. 

“My sister is waiting for me at home, I have to go.” She seemed reluctant to say it, but started walking away with a glance to you over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll meet again.” To you, the words were reassuring…whereas most people would have seen it as ominous. You barely knew her, but you welcomed her regardless. There’s no way in hell this would be the last time she saw you. 

“But! I have to buy you something else!” You called, jogging the few steps to catch up with her. She had the flowers you had bought her in her arms, and the other items she’d “bought” within her carry pack. She stopped as you approached, you putting a hand on her shoulder. 

She hummed, turning to look fully at you before smirking with a dark glint in her eyes. “Then…” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before playfully breathing into your ear, “We’ll make it a date. Next time, you can take me out on the condition I get to take you out after.” She pulled back, and could have burst out laughing from the shocked look on your face as you blushed. 

It only made you smile wide, “Okay! It’s a promise then! Do I get to pick what we do for our date?” You hopped once in place and waited eagerly for her response.

“Of course, cupcake. Anything you wanna do.” With her final words, she turned, as you lost her in the crowd of people. It only then occurred to you that she had no way of knowing where you lived. What if she got lost and never saw you again? Or even worse, what if you never saw her again? It had crushed your spirit a little, and your eyes cast down as you pouted, walking back to your house. 

Though from the shadows, Vi loomed. She watched you walk all the way home, making note of any recognizable locations and landmarks so she would remember exactly how to get to you. You were a new form of intoxication she’d never experienced. You were pure, innocent. You didn’t pick up on her flirting until she made sure you did, and you never once questioned her attire or why you’d never seen her before. It made her let out a chuckle, as she watched you, almost hungrily. 

You’d see her again, sooner than you’d think…and she’d make sure you could never forget her. She knew it was just a matter of time before she corrupted that innocence of yours, making you hers in any way she wanted…any way she desired. 

You should have run when you had the chance, cupcake.