#but that if i get the job everyone will come back

[nadvs]

the power play (part one)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

tags college au. fake dating. grumpy athlete/sunshine tutor. reader is bubbly, talkative, and passionate about literature. very slowburn. he falls first. alcohol use. suggestive moments, but no smut.

power play (noun)

an offensive tactic in a team sport; a deliberate attempt to manipulate someone.

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You hoped it wouldn’t feel the way it used to, but as you sit in the stands behind the home bench next to Lyla, it’s all the same.

You’re watching Beck zip across the ice with a painfully familiar sense of longing hammering into your chest. Falling for him always felt inevitable; you just didn’t expect that he wouldn’t be there to catch you.

When you and Lyla became friends in the ninth grade, you quickly grew close to her family, spending more time at their house than your own, tagging along to watch her twin brother’s hockey games.

The more you got to know Beck, the more you fell under his spell, charmed by his warmth, by every part of him that made him the most captivating person you’d ever met.

He stole your heart. Considering the way he treated you, you were sure you’d stolen his, too.

You spent most of last semester helping him with a class, even though you were in the same overwhelming throws of being a college freshman. Every study session in his dorm room drifted by with an undercurrent of certainty that he felt something, too.

It crushed you to realize that it’d all been in your head. A few weeks ago, you’d met him after his final exam, which he said he knew he nailed thanks to you.

You thought he was finally going to make the move that felt like it’d been hanging over you for years. But all he did was pull you into a side-hug and say, “You’re more of a friend to me than my own sister.”

Thinking about it still makes you cringe. You hate how weak you feel ruminating over this, trying to get over someone you were never even with.

It’s a Wednesday night two weeks into the spring semester, and you’re at the first home game you’ve been to in a while. Although you’ve always loved the loud, buzzing atmosphere of a hockey game, you’ve been staying far away from the campus arena and the man who hurt you.

You haven’t spoken to Beck. And he hasn’t reached out. What he did was an indirect rejection, his way of saying, It’s obvious that you like me and I need you to know once and for all that I don’t like you back.

Since then, every time your best friend has asked you to come to games or parties, you’ve told her you’ve been too busy, using your new position in a tutoring program as your excuse.

You prefer a distraction from Beck, and helping other students with a subject you’re passionate about has done the job.

But you can’t blow Lyla off forever, so now, you’re sitting with her in the stands among a small crowd of spectators.

The championship season begins in a month. Every seat will be full then. But you wish more people were around now. You welcome any noise to drown out your thoughts.

Everyone else cheers when Beck smashes the puck against the back of the net, securing the team’s first goal. You find it hard to join the celebration. Even though you’ve always thought of him as kind, you wonder if he could tell how much you liked him. If he consciously led you on.

For years, you’d watched him date other girls, hoping he’d finally realize you were the right one for him all along. You daydreamed far too much about him, imagining that he’d become your first boyfriend and take you on your first date and give you your first kiss.

The alarm blares to signal the end of the second period, pulling you out the haze you’ve fallen into a thousand times since that day in front of his exam room.

“You want to get some snacks?” Lyla asks.

“Sure,” you reply, doing your best impression of a girl with nothing weighing on her.

Once you walk up to the end of one of the arena’s concession stand lines, Lyla recognizes the people standing in front of you, greeting both girls with smiles and hugs.

Through introductions, you learn that Emma and Gabby are friends Lyla made at a party last semester. After some small talk as the line shuffles forward, Lyla points back to the rink.

“The seats next to us are empty if you want to sit with us,” she offers.

Emma and Gabby happily join you as you settle back in your seats soon after. You gaze ahead at the empty rink as they chat, the 3-1 score glaring above the ice in red neon numbers.

“No way the coach isn’t chewing them out right now,” Lyla says with a shake of her head.

“Why do you know on the team again?” Emma asks.

“My brother, Beck,” Lyla says. “You?”

Emma’s mouth twists into a tense smile.

“My ex,” she says, her voice lowering. “I wish he didn’t play, because I actually really love coming to these games.”

“Bad breakup?” you surmise.

“Brutal,” Gabby chimes in. You can tell by her expression that she’d supported her friend through the fallout.

“I just don’t want him to see me here and think it means something,” Emma sighs. “If he thinks that I want to get back together, it’ll be a disaster. We broke up a month ago and he’s still bothering me.”

You hardly know this girl, and you know her ex even less, but your reflex is to feel bad for him. You’re well acquainted with the pain that comes with caring about somebody who doesn’t want you.

“Oh, yeah,” Lyla remembers. “Rafe, right?”

Emma nods.

“Yikes.”

“Yeah,” Emma laughs.

The three girls share a knowing look, something unsaid passing through them.

You don’t know much about Rafe. On the rink, he’s a strong, aggressive defenseman, a sophomore who spends more time in the penalty box than any other player. You’ve seen him at a couple of parties, too, but never exchanged any words.

You don't understand the girls’ tense reactions to the mention of his name.

“What am I missing?” you half-whisper.

“You’d be missing nothing if you actually came to the parties I invite you to,” Lyla teases.

You can count on one hand how many parties you’ve been to since you started college. But it works for you. A party every few weeks is enough.

“I come when I can,” you reply, nudging her playfully. “Fill me in.”

“He’s a trainwreck,” Emma explains to you. “He has a million red flags that I ignored because I thought he was hot. Literally all we ever did was fight.”

“Yeah,” Lyla huffs, raising her brows. She looks at you. “Maybe it’s actually a good thing you don’t come to every party.”

You consider their words. They must have had a penchant for making a scene, shamelessly arguing in front of a crowd.

“I couldn’t take how mean and moody he was anymore. I dumped him and he won’t let it go.” Emma breathes a laugh. “It’s pathetic. He even called me crying the other night.”

Again, a confusing pang of sympathy for him hits you. It has to be your own heartbreak influencing you. You can’t imagine you’d normally feel bad for a guy described as having a million red flags.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“I’m over it,” Emma says carelessly.

“He’s not,” Gabby murmurs.

The players storm out on the rink again moments later, blades slicing the ice. They’re all so fast and powerful, and knowing that Rafe, the most forceful one of the group, is going through a version of the pain you are is oddly comforting.

A couple of minutes in, he gets thrown into the penalty box for charging an opponent. He skates to the opposite side of the rink, Cameron stitched across the black polyester of his jersey.

He stares at the floor as he waits out his penalty, tense, still. You think that if someone who looks so big and strong can hurt just like you, maybe you’re not as weak as you think.

════════

Rafe swings open the library entrance door with a scowl, irritated as hell that he has to be here. It’s annoying that the athletic department gives this much of a shit about players’ grades. Rafe knows he’s one of the best on the hockey team. He wishes that were enough.

Freshman year was fine, but he barely made it through last semester. He just failed his first assignment in a half-term literature course that was supposed to be an easy A.

Coach wasn’t pleased, saying it could screw up his GPA and deem him ineligible to play. Rafe tried to convince him that he’d do better on the next one, but Coach set him up with a tutor, unwilling to hear him out.

He’s already hardwired into a constant state of anger. Life has always been a storm, and now more than ever, there's no refuge in sight.

He's dealing with a coach who has no hope in him, on top of a painful breakup, on top of a shitty loss last night, on top of the fact that now he’s being forced to talk to a stranger about some boring book.

He can’t catch a break.

He looks at the email on his phone again. Study Room 205. He eventually finds the open door and taps his knuckles on it to get your attention.

You lock eyes with the person you’ve been waiting on for the last ten minutes. You had no idea who was coming up to meet you – just that the athletic department set it up.

But you know him. Or of him, at least.

A second ago, you were thinking about how you’ll have to ask whoever you’re meeting to be on time for future sessions. Now, your mind is consumed by the harsh words you heard about him last night.

“Hi,” you say politely. “Are you here for Lit Arts?”

He nods tersely in confirmation, stepping in. He drops his bag onto one of the empty chairs surrounding the square desk in the middle of the small room. You introduce yourself and when he sits down diagonally opposite to you, he murmurs, “Rafe.”

Discomfort swirls in your stomach. You’d heard something so personal about him at the rink, gazed at him in the penalty box from a distance, feeling like he’s a kindred spirit, and now you have to pretend like none of it happened.

“You’re on the hockey team, right?” you ask.

He realizes he’s seen you before. He can’t figure out where.

“Yeah.”

“I was at the game last night. Tough loss.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything. The clock ticks rhythmically. You clear your throat, figuring it’s best to skip the small talk.

“I took this class last semester. I know exactly how the prof grades, so you’re lucky to have me in your corner.”

Rafe is many things right now. Lucky isn’t one of them.

“Do you have your laptop?” you ask.

He unzips his bag and pulls out his computer.

“You can go to the course portal,” you tell him. He lets out an exhale as he navigates to the webpage. You lean closer to make sure that the class is currently on the book you brought with you.

You pull out your copy of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, page edges littered with different colored sticky tabs.

“Did you get a chance to start the book?” you ask.

He shakes his head. He’s not hiding that he really doesn’t want to be here. Nonetheless, you’re determined to crack him.

“Do you have a copy of it?”

“No.”

You nod slowly, picking up that he planned to coast through the class, not even bothering to buy and read any of the books.

“Do you like reading?” you ask.

“Nah,” he says with a grimace, as if he’s offended you’d assume that.

“You might like some of the books on the syllabus. This class is a lot of fun.”

“Fun,” he echoes with a stare that makes him look like he wants to bolt out of the door he just came through.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you reply with a smile. “Your idea of fun is skating around and getting slammed into walls. I should be the one judging you.”

He gazes at you like you’re from another planet, blue eyes hard on you. It’s nothing short of amusing.

You pull his laptop closer, hovering the cursor over the ‘My Grades’ tab, and ask, “Do you mind if I check how you did on your last assignment?”

“I bombed it,” he says.

As you gaze at the screen, Rafe clues in on where he’s seen you before. With one of the team’s freshmen.

Varsity athletes who live on campus are lumped together in the same dormitory block, and he’s seen you hanging around with Beck, going in and out of his room.

He wouldn’t consider Beck a friend. He’s a teammate and at best, an acquaintance. The guy’s a kiss-ass to Coach, and does everything by the book, skipping most parties and never drinking.

It makes complete sense that a rule-follower like Beck would date a good girl like you. Who the fuck calls a class fun?

You click to see his failing grade percentage for the first assignment of the semester in bolded red.

“Did you get any feedback on where you went wrong?” you ask. You know he’s going to shake his head before he does it. He doesn’t seem to care at all. “You have a whole semester to get your grade up. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” he replies stiffly.

“Well… maybe you should worry a little bit,” you say lightheartedly. “I know your coach is serious about grades.”

Rafe figures you must have heard that from your boyfriend. Maybe Beck took this class, too. It’s popular among busy student athletes because it’s supposed to be an easy way to fulfill a humanities credit.

He could just convince Beck to give him copies of his assignments. He’d have to change stuff around, but at least he’d get out of tutoring.

“Did you help Beck with this class?” he asks.

You’re taken aback by the sudden reminder of him, brows knitting together, a shift in your breezy demeanor.

“You’re his girl, right?” he says, as if it’s obvious.

“No. We’re– we’re friends.” You chew on your bottom lip. Tutoring is supposed to be a distraction from Beck, not the topic of conversation. But your curiosity burns in you and there’s no chance of putting it out. “Did he talk about me or something?”

“No,” he says, a bit too harshly for your liking. “I just figured ‘cause you’re with him all the time.”

“Right,” you say. All the time. Like a lost puppy, no doubt. Embarrassment pricks at your skin. “I helped him with another class. We’re friends.”

Rafe cracks his first smirk since he walked into this stuffy little room. You said friends twice, both times with uncertainty.

“You sure?” he chides.

“What?” you say stiffly. “Yes. I am.”

You crack open the book.

“So, A Portrait is about a man named Stephen who navigates the idea of identity,” you say quickly, trying to shake off your nerves. “We should look at the discussion question.”

You shut the book abruptly, then turn your attention to the laptop.

“You need to write a 1,500-word reflection for each book,” you ramble. “You’ll do better if you find a personal connection to the text. Maybe we start there.”

Rafe watches the nervous way your eyes dart around the screen as you scroll. His joke threw you into a tense, awkward panic that he has no interest in being around.

“You can relax,” he says. “I don’t care if you like him.”

You don’t look at him. You thought you were relaxed.

“Well, I don’t.”

You scroll to the question, one word in particular striking you.

What role does Emma play in Stephen’s growth and how he defines himself?

Of course. As if you needed another reason for this to be even more awkward.

Seeing Rafe’s ex’s name makes what she’d told you about him echo through your head again. Despite his teasing, the sympathy you felt for him comes back tenfold.

You know things about him that you shouldn’t. You feel a responsibility to balance the scales, but the air is too tense, the unfamiliarity too uncomfortable.

“Did you take a look at the question?” you ask.

He shakes his head, still slouched back. At this point, his apathy is starting to get to you.

“Listen, I can tell you don’t want to be here, but could you please try to meet me in the middle?” you say.

Rafe’s lips pull into a firm line, but he relents and leans closer to look at the screen. His body goes cold when he sees her name. He’d rather not be reminded of the girl who broke his heart right now.

“Emma is Stephen’s love interest,” you begin, trying to act like you don’t know a thing about his past relationship. “He sees her as something she’s not.”

You leaf through the book, finding a note you’d written in the margin.

“She represents idealization,” you read. You look up at him again. “Stephen sees by the end that she’s just a normal person, not this perfect girl he thought she was for so many years.”

You open a blank document on his laptop.

“We can write up some notes to start us off,” you say. “This prof grades high when you relate to the text. He likes the sentimental stuff, so until you read the book, that’s what we’ll have to work on.”

You chew on your lip again, unsure if you should bring up what you heard in the stands. It feels unethical either way.

“It doesn’t have to be a person,” you say. “It could be a place or an experience. Have you ever thought something was great and then realized it wasn’t?”

Rafe’s stomach is in a knot. The thought of being tutored and having his hand held through a class was bad enough. Now he has to get into his feelings with you?

“I don’t know,” he says.

You look at the blinking cursor, your head cocked in thought.

“Maybe relating it to a person would be easier, then?” you ask.

Nothing can make this easier. Rafe rakes his hair back, gazing down at your hands stalled over his keyboard.

“I get that this is awkward,” you say. “But it doesn’t have to be anything super personal. You could even make something up if you want.”

He only purses his lips, eyes fixed on your hands, as if he hopes you’ll give in and just do his work for him.

You take a deep breath and interlace your fingers on the desk. You figure that if you’re a little vulnerable, he might be, too.

He’s unknowingly feeling the same pain you are and saying the truth out loud to someone who gets it might even be a relief. There’s a risk of it getting back to Beck, but something tells you Rafe’s not much of a gossiper anyway.

“To be honest, yes, I like Beck. I thought he felt the same, but he doesn’t. Between you and me, sometimes I think he took me for granted and led me on. I idealized a friendship and it ended up hurting me. If this were my assignment, I’d relate to the book with that.”

Rafe is thrown off by your sudden honesty. It’s actually refreshing, considering all the bullshit he’s been dealing with lately.

He looks at you wordlessly.

“It’s just an example,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I did well in this class because I found pieces of myself in every book. All you need to do is read the material, find something you can relate to, write a decent report, and you’ll get a good grade. Well, that and prepare for the midterm and the final.”

“This class was supposed to be easy,” he finally says under his breath.

“Can you let me know when you’re going to be done complaining?” you ask playfully, looking up at the clock. “It’s been five minutes and you’re still going.”

Rafe huffs an almost-laugh. He adjusts his posture again, pulling at the collar of his hoodie.

“You really don’t have to be specific,” you reassure him. You tap your fingers over the keyboard again, just light enough to not press any buttons. “If you can relate the character of Emma to someone, you don’t have to say their name.”

Your eyes stay glued to the screen, your shoulders stiff as you wait. You’re acting weird again. The way you said Emma’s name looked like it pained you.

And it dawns on him.

“Should’ve known she’d talk shit,” he realizes. “What’d she tell you?”

“What?” you say, meeting his gaze.

“What did Emma say about me?” Rafe drawls, his deep voice reverberating through you.

Your lips part, but words refuse to form. For a guy that doesn’t like to read, he’s very good at doing it to you.

Rafe leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. You can now see what makes him so intimidating on the ice. Every edge of his face is sharp now, apathy replaced with intensity.

“Nothing,” you reply. “It’s not my business.”

How did he not clue in before? If you run in the hockey team’s social circle, of course you heard about their breakup.

Emma never cared to keep things private. And you’re so willing to share your own personal stuff because you know more about him than you’re letting on. Because you pity him.

“Come on,” he scoffs, frustrated.

“I met her at the rink last night. She just mentioned you used to date.”

He shrugs impatiently, a silent request that you keep talking. You sigh. He’s stubborn.

“She said she likes coming to games, but it’s hard to because her ex is on the team.” You grimace. There’s no way you’d actually tell him all of it, all of the insults she muttered. “It’s not worth repeating, but… basically, she told me she broke things off and you won’t move on.”

Rafe nods, lips twisting. The way she’s been ignoring his texts and his calls to try to fix things stung enough. Talking to strangers to embarrass him hurts on an entirely different level.

He didn’t know Emma could be this cruel. This is mortifying. He’s done trying to make things work with her. No matter how hard the loneliness is hitting him.

You slide the book across the desk towards him, desperate to move past the tension.

“You can start reading,” you say. “And you don’t have to buy any of the books. I’ll just lend you mine. I’ll get some notes down for you to work from and you can do the personal connection part on your own.”

You start to type and immediately wonder if he’ll drop the class. You’ve never had that happen with someone you tutored before, but you wouldn’t blame him.

It must feel crappy to hear from a girl you don’t even know that your ex is saying bad things about you. A girl that you have to see every Thursday afternoon for the next three months.

Rafe cracks open the book in the middle to fan through the pages, a weight sitting on his chest. The pages are worn, words underlined, notes scribbled in the margins.

“You put this through the washing machine or something?” he murmurs.

“I’ve read it a few times,” you say simply. You keep typing.

Emma said he’d called her crying. It’s hard to imagine the man sitting next to you crying. It’s weird knowing something about someone that they wouldn't want you to know.

Rafe’s already bored with the first sentence. It’s long and confusing and completely uninteresting. His eyes drift up, absorbing the way your face softly creases in concentration as you type.

Now that you’re not talking at a thousand words a second, he can actually take you in.

You’re the type of girl he’d approach at a party. There’s no doubt about that. But once you’d start yapping about reading like you just did, about finding pieces of yourself in a book, he’d find a way out of the conversation.

Playing hockey at the college level is demanding; he likes the other things in his life to be fun and easy. Keeping up with a girl like you and pretending he’s interested in whatever you’re rambling about would be neither.

As he studies you, he doesn’t get why Beck friendzoned you. You’re pretty. And you’re the same type of person that Beck: straight-edge and so cheerful it’s annoying.

Rafe is typically one to outright say what he’s thinking, but he has the restraint to keep the idea he just had to himself. He needs to sleep on it. He’s done some crazy shit since Emma broke his heart and he’d rather not add to the tally.

You notice him looking at you in your peripheral vision.

“You’re not thinking of dropping the class, are you?” you ask.

“No,” he says. His eyes stay on you for another beat, then find the words on the page again.

════════

You thought Rafe came to your first session in a bad mood. Compared to how you feel right now, he was peachy.

Lyla called you on your way to the library and mentioned in passing that her brother asked about you last night. She said Beck seemed like he missed you, all sympathetic when he asked, is she doing okay?

She’s oblivious to the real reason he brought it up. And it’s irritating. Because he doesn’t even ask you himself. Because he’s right. He knows that his passive rejection left a wound.

“You’re on time,” you say in surprise when Rafe saunters into the study room.

“You talk a lot,” he mumbles. “I’m not interested in a lecture after you told me not to be late.”

Despite your bad mood, you crack an amused smile. You’d ended last week’s session telling him that tardiness was not only disrespectful to you, but to his own academic success. He rolled his eyes, but he clearly listened.

Rafe settles in the same chair as last time, holding your copy of the book he was supposed to read.

“Did you read it?”

“Mostly.”

“What’d you think?” you say with hope.

“Boring.”

“Fair,” you say. You gesture for his laptop. “Let’s see how far you got on the report.”

Your brows drop in disappointment when you see how much he added to the file. It’s a bunch of pasted summaries and disorganized thoughts, taking up only half the page.

You eventually reach the end of your hour-long session and have him read over the assignment one last time before submitting it. You check the syllabus to confirm what the next book is, then shut his computer.

“Try to have more for us to work with next time,” you tell him. “And you should have the next book totally read by then, too, okay?”

You hand him your copy of Pride and Prejudice and push your seat back, ignoring his frustrated sigh.

“You talk to Beck lately?” he asks after a beat.

“What?” you say, face screwing up. You’re reminded all over again of what Lyla said. “No. Why?”

“You’re still pissed at him,” he says. He’s confident, coming to the conclusion himself instead of waiting for you to admit it.

“Why are you talking about this? We had a perfectly nice hour together,” you try to joke.

Rafe finally gives a voice to what’s been swirling in his mind since last week. He’s used to being mad, to feeling spiteful, but the way his ex broke his heart has never made him want revenge more. He wants to hurt her as badly as she hurt him. He wants to make her regret leaving him.

“We should get back at them,” he says.

“I’m sorry?” you say, your chin dipping as you stare at him.

“Hear me out,” he tells you. “We’re going to keep seeing Beck and Emma around, right? We could make it look like we’re better off without them. Make them jealous.”

You squint, waiting for the details. Rafe draws in a sharp inhale.

“She said I’m not over her, right? And you said he took you for granted. If they think we moved on, I bet at least one of ‘em will realize they fucked up.”

You consider it. Admittedly, making Beck think you’re perfectly fine – no, thriving – after his rejection is enticing.

“Okay, how do we get back at them exactly?” you ask.

Rafe scratches the back of his neck. It’s the first time he seems kind of nervous to you.

“We pretend we’re together,” he says.

“You and…” You look over your shoulder, because he must be talking to somebody else who snuck into the room at some point. “You and me? Together together?”

“I know. It wouldn’t ever happen.”

You can’t even be offended. He’s right. He’s a skilled hockey player and undeniably good-looking, but that’s where the compliments end.

Two afternoons of working together and making small talk have shown you that you have nothing in common. And frankly, while you do laugh off his bad attitude, it gets on your nerves.

A relationship would never work, let alone even begin.

“But they don’t know that,” he continues. “All they’ll see is that someone they lost is happy without them.”

Your mind starts racing. The years of pining over Beck, the pain of his rejection, the frustration of him asking his sister how you’re holding up. They’ve all left cracks in your heart.

The more Rafe thinks about rubbing his happiness into Emma’s face, even if it’s bullshit, the more he hopes you’ll be on board. But you’re not saying a word.

“If you’re not in, fine,” he sighs, pushing his chair back to start to leave. He should have figured you’d be too uptight to do it. “I’m just saying I bet you wouldn’t hate making Beck sweat.”

He stands up, but you hear yourself say, “Wait.”

Then you hold out your hand.

Rafe breathes an amused chuckle, flashing the first sincere smile you’ve seen on his face, when he realizes what you’re doing.

Your hand slips into his, touching for the first time to seal the deal and shake on it.

“This is insane,” you say. “Count me in.”

(to be continued)

>>> new parts drop every friday at 8:30 pm eastern

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[verdancy-hime]

Yes except people are withholding things for me to do because they want to force me to be understimulated so I have constant suicidal depression. All the books I try to read either contain weird boring hypnotic inductions for 5 pages before I get to the information or they seem designed to be annoying to read on purpose because they don't get to the damn point or they're romances about people the author of the book thinks I should date but in a way where it explains that I'm not dating them because of my terrible personality and I'm their toxic ex, the music I try to listen to is telling me I suck, all the social media is just rage bait trolls telling me how everything is my fault and everything would be so much better if I wasn't crazy and I'm fundamentally flawed, every YouTube video I try to watch is like "we have 3 sentences of content and it's stuff you've already seen or read and it's hidden behind 30 minutes of nothing content" or "we recorded something you said while you were talking to yourself and put it on a random YouTube channel" or it's the news and it's like "by the way the Jesus freaks have won and they are going to take over your country and turn everything into a giant human trafficking cult and we keep heaping more fake rape accusations on the accusations of that one gay guy who can't come out because it's complicated who helped you when you were a little girl with that thing one time and we're setting it up to do ethnic cleansing and hurt all your queer friends and go back to the 1920s and make sure everyone becomes nazis and also we remade all your favorite shows and made them shitty but at least we also put Abigail Thorn in literally everything which like good for her but it would be cool if they didn't rape the last of the American dream to death also."

Every phone sex caller I talk to is like "I will only do calls when it's not your normal business hours and I want to start actual fights with you on purpose rather than just get my rocks off and I want to intentionally set you up for failure and only do things that I know you don't like because how dare you ever say no to anything we are going to torture you into hating your job and hating men we are going to send you weird vague threats all the time."

I go outside and people are pretending not to know who I am while also saying weird cryptic shit about like blog entries I wrote 10 years ago or something.

Literally it's like all of reality is just a machine for torturing me.

No one is making any demands. No one wants anything. At first I thought there were specific things they wanted me to do or say, but I realized they were literally just things that I would rather die than do like move to someplace very hot when I have summer sad and have a lot of exposed skin when I have sensory issues or get married when I don't think living with other people works for me, or do race play porn when I have personal reasons not to do that.

It's just a giant machine for making me constantly miserable and depressed for no reason until I die from it. But they keep trying to sabotage me trying to kms? So what the fuck is the point?

Recently discovered, fully by accident, that the trick to feeling like you have more time in the day is to actually do shit with the time that's there, which seems fake and wrong and it's frankly infuriating that it works >:|

[gothcsz]

Hands To Myself | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~4k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You get to know the handsome stranger sitting next to you on your overnight flight to Mexico.

Tags: smut, reader is ovulating, hand job, fingering, dirty talk, lust at first sight again, sexual acts in public (on a plane), let's just pretend this is realistic okay, pwp, blowjob to completion, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, reader is a woman of color yet everyone is encouraged to read, no physical descriptions, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: this is all @probablyreadinsmut's fault tbh. coming into my inbox with horny thoughts, knowing i have to do something about it 😩 hehe i hope you guys like this, it's nothing special... i just need this man in any way i can get him! let me know what you thinkkkkkk🖤

You knew you were fucked the second you saw him at the gate. He isn’t just attractive—he’s ridiculously attractive. The kind of hot that only exists in movies or in passing, like some guy you make eye contact with and never see again. Except this time, he wasn’t just passing through. He was standing right there.

To make matters worse, your hormones are out of control. Peak ovulation. Just being around a man has your skin buzzing, like your body is betraying you on a biological level.

So yeah, you looked. How could you not? He’s tall, has broad shoulders, leaner than what you usually go for but still built in a way that makes your brain short-circuit.

Then the universe really had to mess with you—you are assigned the seat right next to him for the overnight flight.

Your stomach drops. Suddenly, your go-to comfy travel outfit, leggings and a cardigan, feels way too basic.

“I’m at the window seat,” you say, trying to sound normal.

He looks up, meeting your gaze, and smiles—actually smiles. His brown eyes are warm and a little intrigued as he gives you a once over.

“Okay.”

Just that one word and you are already overthinking. How good his voice would sound in your ear as he’s—

No, you won’t make things harder on yourself by having intrusive sexual thoughts about some stranger. No matter how good looking he is.

You shove your carry-on into the overhead bin and awkwardly step aside so he can stand and let you in. His body brushes against yours, and you get a whiff of his cologne, something woodsy, mixed with the unmistakable scent of whiskey from the airport bar.

Okay… so maybe you’d been watching him for longer than just at the gate. But who could blame you? The man is truly a sight to behold. It’s not like you were being a creep about it.

You mutter a soft “thanks” and sink into your seat, trying very hard to act normal while the flight attendants go through their safety spiel, though it’s hard to focus when you can feel his presence right next to you.

You need a distraction—fast. So, in a last-ditch effort to stop acting like a feral idiot, you pluck your book from your backpack and try to read.

It works, kind of. Not really.

“So, what’s waiting for you in Playa del Carmen?”

His voice, low and raspy, cuts through your attempt at reading—not that you’d absorbed a single word, still stuck on the same page since you opened it.

You glance over, and of course, he’s already looking at you. His leather jacket is gone, leaving him in a short sleeved button-down, a few undone buttons teasing the tanned skin of his neck, his thick biceps straining against the fabric.

You take too long to answer because he tilts his head slightly, lips twitching like he’s holding back a smirk. “Sorry—abrupt fuckin’ question.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You stumble over your words, mentally cringing at yourself. His brows raise slightly, amused, and you don’t miss the way his mustache tics when he presses his lips together. 

“A friend’s birthday trip. I got caught up at work, so I had to take a later flight at the last minute. What about you?”

He hums, the sound deep and thoughtful. “Work.” That’s all he offers. “Not as fun as what you’ll be getting up to, I’m sure.”

You bite your lip, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your book. “I’ve heard the beaches are beautiful. I’m excited to just lounge and take in the sun. It’s been so long since I’ve gone on a proper vacation.”

Your tongue is loose despite the way you’re vibrating under the weight of his attention.

“I know that feeling. Don’t even think my body knows what a vacation is…” He trails off, leaning back in his seat, thighs spreading in that way men do, which you usually find annoying but something about the way he does it has your pussy clenching, and you try no to let your eyes drop down to his crotch.

“How’s the book?”

You blink slowly, returning your attention to the paperback in your hand. “Got a slow start but so far it’s been alright.”

“I bet. You’ve been stuck on the same page since we took off. Must be the most riveting paragraph ever written.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and if it were anybody else, you’d be weirded out by their observation. Being hot does have its privileges. “Maybe I just like rereading. Really taking in the point the author is trying to make.”

“Uh-huh, right…” He chuckles softly and that sound triggers the desire that seeps into every pore of your skin.

The conversation continues flowing thereafter, which you definitely did not expect. His name is Javier, and he’s constantly traveling for work—though he’s vague on the details, and you’re not about to grill a stranger for his life story.

Instead, the topics meander, easy and flirtatious, both of you toeing the line between casual and something else.

You swear he’s flirting. He leans in slightly when you speak, holds your eyes captive just a beat too long, like he’s in no rush to look away.

You’re noticing everything the deeper you get into this… thing. The way lips form around each word, full and obnoxiously kissable. The way his brown eyes glint when he talks about things that should be trivial but feel interesting because he’s the one saying them. How the tendons in his forearms flex whenever he gestures, his fingers long and strong, the kind of hands that could make a woman very happy.

Your horny brain is spiraling.

“A mango marg is my go to. Preferably one of those ridiculously oversized ones with sugar on the rim.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You arch a brow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He scratches his jaw, flicking his tongue over his teeth. You admire how chiseled his jaw is. “Means you like to have fun. You probably get away with a lot.”

“And you think I get away with things?”

His eyes flick down to your lips, just for a second. “I think you could, if you wanted to.”

You cross your legs, shifting in your seat like that’s going to help anything. It just makes it worse. Focus. He’s just a hot stranger. A hot stranger that smells like whiskey and cedarwood and keeps throwing you these amused little glances like he knows what the fuck he’s doing to you.

You should probably end this before you embarrass yourself. But instead, you just keep talking, keep flirting, and keep waiting to see just how far this can go.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Javier’s voice snaps you back to reality, and you blink, heat settling on your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up.

“Sorry, what?”

His lips curve slightly like he’s fighting a grin, but his eyes give him away. “You keep staring at my mouth…” He trails off, but there’s something in the way he says it. As if he’s caught you red-handed and is enjoying watching you squirm.

Your stomach clenches. Your thighs press together on instinct.

Fuck.

Panic surges through you, and suddenly, the cabin feels way too small, the air too thick. “No, uh—there’s nothing there. I just… I zone out sometimes.” You clear your throat, fingers fumbling with your seatbelt. “Would you mind letting me get to the restroom?”

You sound as pathetic as you feel, but Javier doesn’t let up. His smirk stays put, eyes flicking over your face like he’s contemplating something.

Still, he nods. “Sure.”

He stands, stepping aside, and as you squeeze past him, his hand just barely grazes your lower back. Light enough to be innocent, intentional enough to send a full-body shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, pretending not to notice—pretending not to feel the slick heat between your legs pulse at the contact—and walk as casually as possible down the aisle.

The moment you lock the restroom door behind you, you press your palms against the tiny counter, breathing hard.

Your reflection stares back at you, pupils blown, lips parted like you just stumbled out of a damn makeout session. 

You’re hot. Turned on from nothing but a little eye contact and some shameless flirting. And the worst part? It’s not going away anytime soon. Especially since you’re sitting so fucking close to him. Your body is wound tight, aching at the worst possible time.

Your panties are soaked, borderline ruined, pussy crying to get some relief, and you actually consider slipping a hand down there and rubbing one out. But you know yourself. Getting off with your fingers is a slow, frustrating process, and the last thing you need is to be locked in an airplane restroom, chasing an orgasm while Javier is sitting just outside, existing like that.

So you suck it up. Splash some cool water on your face. Take a deep breath. Get it together.

When you step back into the aisle, he’s already standing, leaning casually against the row of seats as if his demeanor and charm aren’t totally putting you under his spell. He looks even better now than he did before you left.

You give him a tight-lipped, awkward smile as you slide back into your seat. He follows, sinking into his own with a quiet grunt, the sound low and rough enough to send another spark of pleasure straight to your cunt.

“Everything good?” He asks smoothly, but there’s an undercurrent of playfulness to it, like he already knows the answer.

You force your legs to stay still, clenching your thighs subtly as you nod.

“Mhm.”

He hums. “You don’t have to lie, you know.”

Your eyes snap up to his, heartbeat hammering. “What?”

“I know when a woman’s turned on. And you haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

Your stomach drops, your whole body flooding with embarrassment. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” He shrugs. “Been thinkin’ about how good your ass looks in those leggings since I saw you back at the airport.”

Oh, you’re so fucked.

Your breath stutters, fingers gripping the armrest as if that’ll do anything to ground you. Maybe this is a dream, it has to be. No way he’s reciprocating the horny vibes you’ve been exuding because of your damn ovulation cycle. 

“Javier…” His name falls from your lips, shaky, uncertain.

His expression doesn’t change—still cool, still lazy, but there’s a darkness to it now. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything…” His knuckles graze your thigh, featherlight, making you shiver before he pulls away. “But I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like I’m not attracted to you.”

You lick your lips, watching the way he follows the movement, how his hand balls into a fist against his leg. The cabin is dim now, most passengers lost in their own worlds or asleep, and the seats around you are conveniently unoccupied. The flight attendants have finished their last walkthrough, leaving you tucked away in a private little pocket of space.

Your pulse thrums, a decision forming in the haze of arousal clouding your mind. “What if…” You hesitate, but then let the thought take control, logic be damned. “What if I wanted to do something?”

Javier’s brows lift slightly, intrigue flashing across his face. The shift is instant—his relaxed posture stiffens, his jaw ticks, and his eyes dip just slightly as if assessing exactly how far you’re willing to go.

You’re barely breathing as he lifts the armrest between you, his body pressing in tight, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. You almost pass out.

“Yeah?” His voice is nothing but a whisper, matching the lust that’s thrumming in your veins. “Like what?”

The warmth of his breath has you letting out a soft, involuntary whimper.

“Anything,” you murmur, fidgeting with your fingers, the need unbearable. “I just need you to touch me.”

Javi exhales a low, quiet laugh through his nose, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. His lips ghost along the side of your jaw, teasing, taunting.

“I can do that.” His fingers then trail up your thigh agonizingly slow, stopping just at the hem of your leggings. “Just need you to keep quiet.”

You nod weakly, head tipping back against the seat as his mouth finds your neck. He starts slow, pressing soft kisses along the sensitive skin before sucking lightly, dragging his teeth over your pulse. You resist the urge to squirm as his large palm moves up your body, fingertips teasing along the curve of your breast over your top.

Your nipples tighten instantly, and when he pinches one between his fingers, both of you let out a quiet groan.

“So sensitive. You need more?”

You bite your lip, nodding desperately again. “Yes.”

His hand slips beneath your shirt and finally—rough fingertips meet your bare skin. He palms your breast, kneading, tugging at your nipple, sending sharp little sparks of pleasure straight to your pussy.

You shift, desperately trying to find any friction. Your horniness is maddening and he knows it.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, tongue flicking out to taste your skin. “So worked up already. Bet you’re soaked.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you whimper, hips rolling ever so slightly.

Javier groans at the movement, shifting even closer, his thigh pressing against yours as he works your tits over with a practiced hand.

His lips move up to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. You turn your head, eyes locking with his for a brief moment before you both give in—lips crashing together, mouths desperate and hungry.

He can kiss.

His tongue slides against yours, tasting and exploring. The fingers at your breast keep working, rolling your nipple between his fingers, twisting just enough to make you gasp against his lips.

“Javi…” His name is exhaled breathlessly. “More. Please.”

He tilts his head slightly. “Yeah?” Leaving your tits, he moves down between your legs and you spread your thighs, giving him enough room to begin rubbing you over your leggings.

You let out a sharp gasp, back arching slightly. The pressure has you melting, chasing the touch you so desperately need.

Javier watches you, drinking in the slight furrow of your brow, how your lips purse. “Goddamn.” He can’t help but nip at your lower lip, gripping your thigh with his other hand as he grinds a little harder against your pussy. “You soaked right through these.”

Your fingers dig into his forearm, the teasing unbearable.

“You’re so—” You shudder, exhaling shakily and he’s living for it. “You’re so fucking hot, I couldn’t help it.”

“I could probably make you come just like this, huh? Needy little thing needs her pussy played with so bad, she’s whoring herself out on a fuckin’ plane just to get an orgasm.”

Your jaw hangs open at his filthy words.

Javier is clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. His fingers keep moving, slow and firm, while your hand drifts down, pressing against the hardness straining beneath his jeans. Even through the thick denim, he’s big, and when you squeeze just slightly, his hips jerk into your palm.

He groans into the kiss you’re sharing, enjoying your touch. “This is risky, you sure?”

You nod, struggling to think through the fog of lust clouding your mind. “I don’t care.”

That’s all it takes.

He pulls back, just enough for both of you to move quickly. You shrug off your cardigan, tucking it beneath you before slipping your leggings and panties down to your mid thigh. You’re not about to put your bare ass on this plane seat.

He unbuckles his belt, freeing himself from his jeans, and holy shit.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s thick, a swollen, flushed cock with a prominent vein running down the side, curving just enough to make your walls flutter at the thought of him fucking your cunt.

Javi catches your lingering gaze and smirks. “You just gonna look, or—?”

You drag your tongue across your palm before wrapping it around his leaking cock, your touch making him shudder. Slowly, you stroke him, spreading the precum with your thumb, gliding it over the sensitive head before giving a firm squeeze, earning a growl from deep in his chest.

His fingers slip between your thighs, spreading your pussy lips open, and he wastes no time in teasing your sensitive labia, dragging his touch up and down attentively.

You moan quietly as to not get yourself caught. He groans at the feeling of you, slick and hot, his digits smearing your arousal all over your pretty pussy before pressing against your swollen clit.

“If we weren’t on this goddamn plane I’d fuck the shit out of you.”

You can’t hold back your soft whine, your head tilting back, wrist still moving, his own fingers working magic between your thighs.

“How? Please Javi tell me how you’d fuck me.”

He buries his head into your neck, licking, biting, sucking at your skin, his thick fingers now breaching the mouth of your cunt.

It’s pure bliss—the stretch so much deeper, fuller than your own fingers ever manage. His thick digits work you open, pressing against every sensitive spot inside you. The way he drags against your inner walls has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, but it’s the relentless pressure on your fleshy pearl that wrecks you, erasing every thought but him.

“I’d have you spread out, my head buried between your legs, fucking you with my tongue until you’re wet enough to take this big cock.” His hips grind into your jerking palm to emphasize his point.

You can only imagine how his wet tongue would feel up against your flesh, tasting every crevice, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you.

“Probably start over you, wanna see that pretty face while I slide inside this tight pussy baby, fuck,” he groans, fingers now knuckles deep inside your cunt and you moan, slipping into this fantasy with him, imagining how good it’d feel to have his dick stretching you out.

“Not really a missionary girl but I know you’d make me feel good, Javi.”

His thumb is slick with your sticky wetness, allowing him to swirl your clit around, massaging it and making your pussy drool even more. Your nipples are hardened and oversensitive, adding to the bliss when they brush against the fabric of your shirt with every deep inhale and exhale you take. 

Javi’s fingers begin to thrust into you more earnestly, the soft squelch of your pussy getting finger fucked thankfully drowned out by the hum of the plane. “How would you want it then? Tell me how you’d take it.”

Another bead of precum dollops from his slit and your mouth waters, picking up the pace to match the stroking of his fingers inside you.

“On top. I’d bounce on your cock until you’re filling me up. Put my tits in your face, make you suck on them.”

A thin sheen of sweat clings to your temples, the heat of his kisses still lingering on your neck making your temperature spike like a fever you don’t want to break.

Javier gets desperate, leaning in to put his lips on yours, imagining the way your pussy would feel while you rode him. You clench around his fingers, your orgasm on the brink of making a mess all over his hand.

“You’d let me come inside you?” His voice is a husky murmur, almost taunting, laden with lust as he cups your jaw with his other hand before sliding lower, wrapping firmly around your throat. Not squeezing, just holding, keeping you in place as he curls his fingers, brazen eyes boring into yours.

Your breath stutters as ecstacy coils impossibly tight. “Mhm,” you nod weakly, tears welling in your eyes from how good it all feels.

A wicked smirk spreads across his lips, his grip keeping you steady as he drags you closer. “Naughty girl,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’ love that.”

His lips crash against yours again, swallowing your cries as his fingers work you harder, scissoring inside you, his fat thumb flicking your clit rapidly. 

It sends you tumbling over the edge, your entire body clenches, muscles locking as waves of pleasure ripple through you, your release coating his fingers while you moan into his mouth, trying to keep quiet, trying not to let the whole damn plane know what he’s doing to you.

Your grip on his cock tightens but you lose your rhythm as he lets you ride out your orgasm, whispering praises against your lips, not seeming bothered by the lack of attention at his shaft.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, blinking away the stars clouding your vision while he pulls his fingers out, a sticky web following.

Javier lifts his fingers between you, still slick with your release, dark eyes flicking to yours as he takes in the scent of your pussy before he’s licking at them, using the hold he still has on your neck to bring you in so you’re both making out with his wet fingers between the two of you, your tongue moving sinfully, getting lost in the act.

You break away when his fingers are licked clean, attempting to catch your breath. After regaining some control, you continue to work his cock, urging him to slide into the unoccupied third seat by the aisle so you have room to take him in your mouth.

Javi blinks, caught off guard, dick twitching in your grasp as he registers what you’re suggesting.

“You sure?” His hands flex like he’s barely holding himself back.

“Yes. Don’t want to make a mess, right? Just make sure no one’s looking.” You purr, pulling your legging and underwear back up before shifting your body and bending over to lick at his tip, circling around his head before you’re taking as much as you can into your mouth.

The positioning is a little cramped and awkward, but you don’t care. He tastes so good, feels even better on your tongue. The blood is roaring in your ears, you can’t even hear any of the quieted noises you’re pulling from him but you do feel his hand landing on the back of your neck and he pushes you further down, forcing you to take almost the entirety of his cock down your throat.

You fondle his balls, sucking in your cheeks and bobbing up and down quickly. His stomach tightens and before you know it, ropes of warm and salty cum are filling your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin. You moan around him, slurping him up before pulling away with a soft pop, wiping at the corners of your mouth where the fluids had smeared.

He looks just as wrecked as you had when you came, his cheeks a little pink, eyes dilated, breathing heavily. He exhales a quiet, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair before tucking himself back into his pants, watching you with something dangerously close to admiration.

You lean in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his lips, returning the favor and letting him taste the last traces of himself.

“Where are you staying? This can’t be the last time I see you.”

You tell him the name of the resort, watching as that familiar cocky smirk creeps back onto his face.

“Okay,” he murmurs, mind already made up. “Can’t let you walk away after that. Pussy’s too good. Hope your friends don’t mind me stealing you for a night or two.”

He caresses your cheek and you melt into him, resting your chin on his shoulder, staring up at him with starry eyes. You already know you’re going to get the lecturing of your life once you disclose what just transpired to your homegirls.

“They will. Maybe I should extend my stay just a little longer…” Your fingers fidget with the buttons on his shirt.

“I’ll pay for it. Anything to see you again.”

Oh god, is this irresponsible of you? Probably. But you’re not thinking with your brain right now, no, you’re straight up thinking with your pussy.

“Deal.”

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7. @mandaloriankait . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @clubsoft . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz . @manuymesut . @biapascal . @angiewatson .

[gojover]

the subtleties of being in love

summary: kuroo tetsurou is the spider-man. he’s also your best friend. he’s also hopelessly in love with you. between fighting crime and juggling college, kuroo barely has the time to confess his feelings to you. lucky for him, you’ve got him covered. or, five times kuroo tetsurou tries to ask you out, and one time you ask him out instead.

⇢ pairing: spider-man!kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader ⇢ contains: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers au, spider-man au, college au, debatable attempts at comedy, idiots to idiots in love, 5+1 things, profanity, mentions of violence but nothing graphic—please let me know if i’ve missed anything! ⇢ word count: 5.0k

ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF SWINGING INTO A WALL

Kuroo Tetsurou swears he isn’t trying to be stupid. 

It’s just that when he sees you, his mouth dries up, the words he want to say get stuck on the tip of his tongue and he can’t force them out no matter what, he feels his brain turn to mush and his legs turn to jelly, and—

You’re laughing. At him.

All because he swung face-first into a goddamn brick wall.

You don’t even know it’s him—he has a mask made out of spandex covering his face, thankfully—but he saw you on the street, talking to the old lady who sells churros next to the sandwich place both of you love. He may have lost all directional sense after that, because one minute he’s watching you gesture animatedly while you converse with the shopkeeper, and the next he slams solidly into the brick-red compound of the building he was supposed to swing over.

At least his webbing is still intact.

Kuroo’s pride, on the other hand? Completely, utterly shattered.

For a minute, there’s silence—a sort of muffled, hazy silence that blankets everyone, the kind that’s impossibly rare to come by in a city which never sleeps—and then every single person whips out their phones and takes pictures, giggling to themselves throughout. It’s not every day Spider-Man accidentally swings into a wall, after all.

Kuroo can already picture the headlines: City’s Masked Superhero Can Fight Aliens But Is Apparently Blind When Confronted By A Gigantic Barricade. Or worse. He can hear J. Jonah Jameson’s voice in his head, bellowing into the cameras, “Breaking news everyone, this just in: Spidey has been caught lackin’! Is he truly good at his job or is he just a farce? We may never know.”

He peels his head off hard brick, contorting his neck to relieve all the cricks, and that’s when he makes direct eye contact with you.

He swears his heart stops beating—but it starts again in less than a second, starts rabbiting around like it always does when he sees you, before settling back down into its regular rhythm. It’s only then that he remembers his feet and fingers are still glued to the wall.

He pries them off, wincing at the hoots and hollers from the crowd, and glances at you again. 

You have a few churros in your hand, wrapped neatly in butter paper—no doubt a gift from the old lady—and you have your phone in your hand. He watches your fingers fly rapidly over the screen, notices the slight tilt to your head, the way your tongue pokes out of your lips slightly, the amusement at his mishap still running through your veins.

He hears the ping of the notification through his mask before you even put your phone down. 

The letters swim in front of his eyes, on the screen in front of him.

(11:36) You: KUROO!!!! u wont BELIEVE what i just saw!!!! I SAW SPIDERMAN CRASH INTO A WALL LMFAOOOO

Kuroo winces. He should probably tell you that there’s a hyphen separating the words ‘spider’ and ‘man’, but he doesn’t want to burst your obvious elation at the city’s most prominent superhero’s accident. (Despite the fact that you’re the cause for him losing all common sense, in the first place.)

He doesn’t get the chance to form another coherent thought before a yell from below gets his attention. Specifically because it’s your voice.

“Hey!” You have your hands placed on your waist, your bundle of churros tucked into the corner of your arm as you squint up at him. “Need some help getting down?”

Unlike the jeers of the onlookers with their phones still out, you don’t sound malicious at all. You sound genuinely concerned, as though he isn’t Spider-Man, who’s fought off a hundred different villains and rescued the earth from alien infestations. You talk to him like he’s just a regular guy who accidentally swung onto a building and now finds himself in this precarious position.

His chest warms at the thought. “No thanks!” he hollers back. “I’m good.”

He lets his feet loosen up, feels his muscles relax and then he pushes himself off the wall, letting the momentum pull him through a graceful somersault before he lands softly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” You ignore the passersby.

“I’m fine,” Kuroo replies. “Are you okay?”

You look at him strangely, and Kuroo can feel his cheeks heat up. “I’m not the one who almost broke my nose because I wasn’t looking at where I was going.”

Kuroo shifts from one foot to the other, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You have a point, he supposes. He clears his throat. “Right, um. Thanks for offering to help me out.”

“No problem,” you reply easily, the corners of your lips rising upwards. “I’m glad you’re okay. Can’t have our city’s best line of defence get obliterated because of a wall.”

Kuroo’s not sure whether he’s supposed to feel happy about the fact that you’re worried about him despite not knowing who he is or if he’s supposed to be embarrassed at you pointing out his lapse of attention.

“Listen,” he begins, feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through his veins, run its course throughout his body, and settle at his heart, “do you… maybe want to get some coffee with me? As a thank you. For offering to help.”

You raise an eyebrow sceptically. “I’m not sure that warrants a coffee date.”

“It’s not,” Kuroo hurriedly says, heart thumping erratically, “I swear. I just want to thank you.”

You purse your lips, drawing out a sigh that’s in between contemplation and refusal. Kuroo’s heart sinks—he knows that expression of yours all too well. “I’m sorry, Spider-Man. You’re a great superhero and I’m sure you’re a really nice person behind the mask, but… I’m actually running late for a meet-up with my best friend. I’m sorry.” You shrug apologetically. “Maybe next time.”

“Okay, uh—” Kuroo licks his lips— “n-no worries. I’ll see you around.”

“Break a leg, Spider-Man.” You salute him with two fingers. “Not literally, but you know what I mean.”

He manages a smile, then realises you can’t see it through his mask—and then realises that the friend who’s meet-up you’re running late to is with him, so he’s going to see you again, anyway. The thought makes him smile again, this time wider, and he can feel his cheeks crinkle at the corners.

He stretches an arm out, presses his web shooter and swings onto the top of the building. Maybe he’ll have to deal with you retelling the story of how he crashed into a wall with extreme detail and lots of exaggeration, and Kuroo should probably feel extremely embarrassed about it. Instead, he finds himself looking forward to it.

Maybe he should crash into walls more often.

TWO — THE SUBTLE ART OF ACCIDENTALLY ASKING YOUR PROFESSOR OUT

Kuroo Tetsurou is decidedly fucked.

He’s late—unbearably so—but what else is he supposed to do if a platoon of aliens show up in the middle of his Introduction to Organic Chemistry class and he has to stop them from blowing up the president’s summer retreat? Once the situation is wrapped up and the foreign visitors agree to sign a peace treaty with earth, he’s effectively missed three classes, skipped lunch, and is currently running late to a study session you planned out after classes.

He supposes he can make up for it—he’s not sure how, but… something is better than nothing, right? He swings down in front of a flower shop, hurriedly asks for a bouquet and a box of chocolates, places a wad of money bills on the counter and swings away. The whole interaction takes place in less than fifteen minutes, but Kuroo is in a hurry. He has a slew of texts from you, all detailing the same thing: That if he doesn’t magically appear in the next ten minutes, you’re leaving, and you better make it up to him somehow.

Kuroo touches down on the rooftop of your university’s library and quickly removes his Spider-Man suit, stuffing it into his backpack and shouldering it. He heads down the fire escape, taking two steps at a time, and comes to a standstill in front of the Biology section of the library. It’s the least crowded part of the library, which is why you and Kuroo have chosen it as your designated spot.

He sees you immediately and braces himself for the telltale quickening of his heart. You smile at him as soon as you spot him, raising a hand in greeting. Books and sheets of paper are scattered around the table in front of you, and your hair is messy, swept up hastily. You’re wearing your favourite sweater with the coffee stain down the front, because even though it’s not something you would wear in public, it’s still the most comfortable piece of clothing you own.

Kuroo’s lips curl upwards on their own accord. The words form on the tip of his tongue, as they always do. He wants to tell you—he’s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you—and it would be so easy to confess right then and there. He walks towards you.

Fate is never kind to him, it seems.

Kuroo keeps his eyes fixed on you, which is why he doesn’t notice his Organic Chemistry professor walk right across him.

In his defence, Professor Suzuki is short, with a head full of bountiful grey curls and a pink flower-patterned umbrella always tucked underneath her arm. She barely comes up to Kuroo’s shoulders, so she’s never in Kuroo’s line of vision unless he’s sitting down.

It’s no wonder he collides into her. 

Professor Suzuki lets out a startled “Ooh!”, the stack of papers in her hand flying out of her grip and falling around him and his teacher like snowflakes on a winter morning. She twists her lips at him, mouth downturned like she just sucked a lemon raw, and tuts disapprovingly at him.

Kuroo feels his cheeks blaze as he bends down and gathers all the loose sheets of paper and stacks them. He doesn’t need to look at you to know you’re gleefully watching the whole encounter. He tucks the bouquet and chocolates into the crook of his arm and hands the stack of papers to Professor Suzuki, mumbling an apology.

“Well, you better be sorry,” she says, looking up and down at him—except she has to crane her neck at him to meet his eyes, and the sight is so hilarious, Kuroo needs to stifle his laughter. Then her eyes narrow in recognition, and Kuroo stiffens, dread pooling in his stomach. 

She pauses for a minute. “Aren’t you the young man who ran out halfway through my class? Is your stomach feeling better now?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you snort and then cover it up as a cough. 

Kuroo wants to melt into the floor, pretend like he’s one of the tiles on the ground. “Yes ma’am,” he answers politely instead, hoping his voice doesn’t betray him.

“Hmm.” She scrutinises him carefully, reaching out with her free hand and pinching his stomach. “Indigestion is a serious issue, young man. Make sure you have enough ginger in your diet—it helps with your toilet problems.”

“I will, ma’am.”

“Now, how do you plan to make up for your lost lesson?” 

Kuroo licks his lips. “I’m… not sure. I could come over for a remedial class—”

“Oh, please. You insult me.” Professor Suzuki lets out a giggle. “Remedial classes are such mediaeval methods. These days teachers will let anything go for a small price. Young, handsome men like you especially…”

Kuroo nearly chokes on his own spit. “I—”

“Just some flowers and chocolates will be fine,” his teacher waves him off good-naturedly, as though this is a conversation she has all the time. Her eyes land pointedly on the flowers and the chocolate box still tucked safely in his arms. 

“Oh. Um.” Kuroo curses his luck. He’s Spider-Man, after all—shouldn’t he get some slack? All he wants is to ask you out, and if not that, at least spend some time with you without getting caught up in outworldly situations all the time. 

Professor Suzuki’s expression turns serious upon noticing his hesitation. “Of course, not every teacher is as lenient as I’m being. Some would—and I’m really just throwing it out here—assign compensatory essays, or—”

He hurriedly shoves the bouquet and the chocolates into Professor Suzuki’s waiting arms. 

“No, ma’am. Thank you very much for being so kind to me.”

“Not a bother, not a bother,” she waves him off again, smiling thinly at him. “Anything for my students.”

Kuroo bows and waits patiently for her to skitter away from him, finally letting out a loose breath that has his shoulders slumping forward and his head hanging dejectedly. He drags himself to your table, places his bag on the desk, and buries his head into his arms in such a way that half his upper body is spread-eagled across the wooden desk. A tired, muffled groan escapes his lips.

“Rough day?” Your voice is soft, and you tentatively reach out and gently run a hand through his hair.

Kuroo lets out another groan in response, closing his eyes when he feels your touch. He lifts up his head and props his chin on the desk, glancing at you. You have a soft smile playing on your lips, eyes twinkling.

“You recorded all of that, didn’t you?” It’s more a statement than a question; Kuroo has all your tendencies mapped out in his head, and you would never pass up on an opportunity to record his humiliation.

“Yup.” You grin at him, patting your pocket where your phone is stowed away. “I won’t show it to anyone, don’t worry.”

It’s a small consolation. He decides to let it slide. “By the way, the flowers and the chocolates were for you. To apologise for being late.”

“Oh.” To Kuroo’s surprise, you sound… bashful, almost. His heart skitters at the revelation. “That’s alright. I’m not a big fan of flowers anyway. Are you hungry? You skipped lunch, too, didn’t you? We could go get some ramen.���

“That sounds good.” Kuroo smiles wearily at you. He just hopes there isn’t another national emergency to divert his attention from you and the time he gets to spend with you.

THREE — THE SUBTLE ART OF ALMOST DATING YOUR HOMIE

If Kuroo Tetsurou has been Tokyo’s one and only Spider-Man for the past two years, then Bokuto Koutarou, his roommate, is his designated Guy-in-the-Chair.

He’s the only one who knows about Kuroo’s secret identity, and Kuroo relies on him to make up some believable reason for his often and sudden disappearances. The last time, when he had to escape in the middle of his Organic Chemistry class and that whole debacle with Professor Suzuki took place, Bokuto had said Kuroo had indigestion. He assumes his roommate has fun coming up with excuses. As long as his secret remains safe, Kuroo’s not too concerned.

Despite all the help Bokuto has provided him with, he wants nothing more than to toss him over their shared apartment’s balcony.

For the past half an hour, he’s been consistently badgering him. Specifically about you.

“Have you told her you like her yet?”

The question drags a tired sigh out of Kuroo’s lips. He’s hunched over his Physics textbook, scribbling down notes, and he could really appreciate some peace—but that’s not something he should expect when he lives with the human equivalent of a hamster on a wheel.

“No, Bokuto,” he reiterates, “I haven’t had the time.”

Bokuto flops dramatically across the couch. “Dude. You need serious help.”

“Do I?” Kuroo murmurs absent-mindedly, wondering how to calculate the coefficient of friction with the variables he’s been given.

“Yes.” When he notices his roommate not paying attention to him, Bokuto rolls his eyes. “Stop doing homework, you have more important matters to attend to.”

Kuroo finally tears his tired gaze away from the numericals printed out on the page. He locks eyes with Bokuto, barely aware of the tic in his left eye. “Like what?”

His roommate throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Like your best friend! And the fact that you’re in love with her!”

“Okay.”

“This isn’t going to work. C’mere.” He gestures to Kuroo to come sit next to him on the couch. Once he makes his way to the couch and sits next to him, Bokuto takes both his hands in his. “Consider this an intervention.”

Kuroo leans back and lets his head fall against the couch cushions. This is going to be good.

“Okay, so,” Bokuto begins, “she doesn’t know you’re Spider-Man—no one knows that except me—but you love her, don’t you? Just walk up to her, tell her you can show her something she’s never seen before, swing her up to a rooftop somewhere, and watch the sunset with her. Tell her you love her and that you can’t live without her, and your heart beats only for her—trust me, girls love romantic stuff like that—and then tell her you’re also Spider-Man. Easy.”

All Kuroo can do is laugh. There’s no way Bokuto is serious about this.

“I’m being serious,” Bokuto says. “How long are you going to keep hiding this from her? She’s your best friend, don’t you think you should tell her that you’re basically in mortal peril every other day?”

“That’s exactly why I’m not telling her,” Kuroo says. “What if some villain finds out she’s special to me and does something to her to get back at me?”

His friend looks dubious. “You really think that could happen?”

“Yes.” Kuroo turns his head to look at Bokuto. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you either.”

Bokuto chews his lip thoughtfully. “I kind of see what you mean. But…” He squeezes Kuroo’s hand once, gently. “I think she would want to know.”

Kuroo considers it—for a brief half-minute, he actually thinks about it—and then shakes his head. “It’s better to keep her safe.”

You have the worst possible timing. (Perhaps it’s Kuroo’s fault for having given you a spare key to his apartment.)

The door swings open and you walk into the living room, two bags of takeaway in your hand. “Guess who’s got food!”

Then you pause, survey the situation in front of you, and your jaw drops.

Kuroo and Bokuto, both on the couch, sitting so close to each other, their knees are brushing. Kuroo’s hands are still being held by Bokuto, the latter rubbing circles on his palm. Belatedly, Kuroo realises what this must look like to you.

He shoots up to his feet. “It’s not what you think—”

“Oh my God.” You raise your arms. “Am I interrupting something? I’m so sorry, I had no idea! I’ll just—”

“No, wait! Bokuto and I, we’re not—”

“No, no, it’s okay!” Your repeated reassurances don’t do anything to assure him. “You guys look good together! Congratulations on graduating from cherry boy university, Kuroo!”

Kuroo lowers his head, crimson creeping up his cheeks. He turns around and faces Bokuto, who’s busy snickering on the couch. “This is all your fault.”

You look between them curiously. “Are you both dating?”

“No,” Kuroo says at the same time Bokuto says, “Possibly.”

He glares at his friend. “No, we are not together. Bokuto knows I like someone else.”

“You like someone else?”

There’s the barest hint of hurt in your tone, a slight hitch in your voice that Kuroo picks up on easily. “I—yes.”

“You never told me.” 

Your voice is carefully calm and you fiddle with the handle of the takeaway bags. Kuroo winces; he takes a step forward and grabs your elbow, gently forcing you to look up at him. “I was going to tell you. I just… forgot.”

It's the worst possible excuse he could come up with. Your eyes harden. Thankfully, Bokuto swoops in. “He’ll tell you soon. He just never has good timing.”

You poke your tongue in the inside of your cheek. “It… doesn’t matter. I brought Chinese,” you say, lips pursed into a threadbare smile, “so all that’s left is to pick the movie.”

You move into the living room and playfully poke Bokuto’s legs to make space. Kuroo closes the door behind you, a heavy feeling in his gut.

He’s fucked up. Big time. No matter what, he can’t get the look of dejectedness on your face out of his mind.

Kuroo decides he’s going to tell you. Somehow. Even if you don’t return his feelings, at least he’ll be free of the burden of keeping them hidden. 

With new conviction in his head, he strides over to where you are.

FOUR — THE SUBTLE ART OF GETTING HIT ON

Kuroo loves you—he really does—but despite his obvious affection towards you, he still thinks you’re acting slightly (read: extremely) delusional.

“A… Spider-Man love blog?” he asks weakly, sitting opposite you.

“Yeah!” You nod your head vigorously, obviously excited. “J. Jonah Jameson started a Spider-Man conspiracy theory blog, so I figured I need to start a blog to support Spider-Man and all his endeavours. Too much hate is a bad thing, and… well, he is kind of hot. Objectively speaking.”

Kuroo doesn’t know whether to grimace at the fact that J. Jonah Jameson started a page on conspiracy theories about him, laugh at the fact that you want to start a blog to support him, or melt like an ice cream on a hot summer afternoon at the fact that you just called him objectively hot.

He tries to do a mixture of all three. You glance at him, concerned. “Did you just have a stroke or something?”

Kuroo purses his lips together. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” you say dismissively. “Well, what do you think of the blog idea?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Kuroo agrees. “It’s like a little Spider-Man support group.”

“Exactly!” you agree, perking up even more. “That’s actually a really cool slogan, thanks Kuroo.”

“No problem.” Kuroo feels his mouth dry, but before he can second guess himself, he says, “Hey, you said Spider-Man is hot?”

“Hm? Yeah, what about it?”

“You know who else is hot?”

“Tom Holland?” Your eyes widen excitedly. “Oh, I know! Andrew Garfield!”

“No—I mean, yes but—” Kuroo heaves out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t talking about them.”

You cock your head to the side. “Who do you mean, then?”

He takes in a deep breath, forcing his heart to calm down. “I was talking about—”

He’s about to say you when the fire alarm rings. You stand up, eyes widening—not with excitement, but with panic flaring up inside you. Kuroo stands up too; how did he not notice something was off? The hair at the back of his neck tingles. He needs to get you out of here—now.

“Hey,” he says hurriedly, “you need to leave. Go out the fire escape.” He shoves you none too gently towards the fire escape, but you stumble forward and then stop.

“Kuroo,” you say, and he can hear the mounting fear in your voice, “what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he assures. A series of bangs follows his statement, and he narrows his eyes at the direction of the sound. “But you need to leave. Now.”

You open your mouth to say something, but when you hear a loud clang echo down the stairwell, you close your mouth and run towards the staircase. Kuroo waits for you to disappear from his sight, before turning on his heel and grabbing his suit from his bag.

God, supervillains really have the worst timing. All Kuroo wanted to do was tell you he thought you were hot, too, but that he found you more beautiful than anything else.

FIVE — THE SUBTLE ART OF EXPOSING YOUR CRUSH

Kuroo is so, so tired.

He lands in front of a small, quiet lake in a park you used to come to with him. The ambience is perfect for when you want to spend time alone, in solitude. A family of ducks paddles gently over the water; it’s peaceful and serene—completely unlike the destruction he just had to deal with, and the turbulence currently running through his mind.

He pulls his mask off his head and runs a tired hand through his hair. Wearily, he sinks down onto the grass, feeling the cool breeze caress his skin and the rustle of the leaves of the giant tree under whose shade he’s sitting.

He blinks once, slowly, and then again, and when a duck lets out a quack, he opens his mouth and lets everything spill out, like sand pouring through an overturned hourglass.

(He’s aware he’s talking to ducks. He doesn’t care.)

“Screw this shit. I never wanted to be a hero, you hear me? I never wanted to be bitten by a stupid spider, I didn’t ask for all this—I didn’t ask for all this! God, what does a guy need to do to have some time to tell his best friend he’s in love with her?!”

His rant falls on silent ears—but then, he hears the crunch of dried leaves, and he whips around.

Your head pokes out from behind the tree trunk. “Kuroo?”

“Oh,” he breathes out, scrambling to his feet. “What are you—”

“You said you’d be right behind me!” Despite the false bravado in your voice, he can hear how wobbly you actually sound.

“I-I was. Technically.” He takes a tentative step towards you, one arm stretched out placatingly.

“You never told me you were Spider-Man!” Your voice increases in pitch steadily with each word.

“I didn’t tell you to protect you—”

“Oh my God, you were in mortal peril every day and I didn’t even know!”

“Bokuto said the same thing, but—”

“Bokuto knew all along, of course he did!”

“I only told him because—”

“And—and now you’re telling me you’re in love with me!”

“Okay, I wasn’t telling you, I was telling the ducks, but—”

“Kuroo!” You throw your hands up in the air wildly, gaze roaming rapidly across his face. “You’re in love with me!”

He sucks in a breath sharply. “I feel like that’s not the most important thing here.”

Of all the ways he thought he would confess to you, this is decidedly not something that crossed his mind even once. He’d always pictured flowers, holding your hand, maybe even a romantic stroll down this very park. He’d certainly never imagined you’d find out about both his secrets on the same day—all while he was busy ranting about his hero complex to a bunch of birds who didn’t pay him any attention.

“Please,” he tries again, “please let me explain.”

You shake your head. “No. There’s nothing there to explain.”

With that, you turn away and walk past him. Kuroo’s heart sinks. He crumples the material of the mask in his hand, feeling the cloth twist underneath his fingertips just like his heart twists into knots with every step you take away from him.

PLUS ONE — THE SUBTLE ART OF KISSING YOUR BEST FRIEND

You have Kuroo cornered, your arms crossed across your chest and your expression stern. “You need to listen to me.”

Kuroo gulps. It’s been a week since he accidentally let both his secrets slip, and this is the first time he’s talking to you in person since then. You’d sent him a text with a simple message. Library, first thing after lunch. Kuroo had complied, and here he is now.

“So. Bokuto explained everything to me,” you say. 

“He—he did?”

You glance at him shortly. “Yeah, he did. I… I understand why you didn’t tell me about—about your condition, Kuroo. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself.”

“It’s okay,” he replies immediately. “If I found out my best friend was a secret vigilante risking his life every day, I think I’d react the same way.”

You smile at him then, and his heart jumps inside his chest. He smiles back. “But that’s not the main reason I called you here,” you continue. “What I really called you here for was…”

You trail off, looking down, and Kuroo is hit with a sudden sense of nostalgia. Why are you being so bashful around him all of a sudden? “Was…” he gently prompts.

You swallow, lifting up your chin and looking him in the eye. “I wanted to tell you that I’m in love with you too.”

Kuroo Tetsurou swears time stops, and the whole world comes to a standstill. The words ring in his ears, echoing inside his head. His lips part, and he stares at you, flabbergasted.

“I— Say that again.” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

He sees the flicker in your eyes, notices how you’re ready to compete with him for this. “I love you, Kuroo Tetsurou. I don’t care about the fact that you’re Spider-Man.”

Kuroo takes a step towards you, holding your shoulders gently, like you’re made of glass. “I love you too.”

You grin at him, your own arms encircling his waist and coming to rest on his back. “I know that.”

And then you tip your head forward and capture his lips with your own. He gasps at first, before kissing you back with equal force, one hand tugging you closer to him and the other curving around your torso.

You giggle into the kiss, and Kuroo’s lips twitch upwards. He’s giddy, weightless, floating through the air like a feather being carried by the wind. The feeling he gets when he’s swooping through the rooftops of the city is nothing compared to the feeling of your lips slotted against his and his arms wrapped around you.

Kuroo Tetsurou swears he doesn’t try to act stupid normally. But if it makes you smile, he’s willing to do anything.

[sevsgiirl]

Sevika headcanons please? Romantic & sexual, when she has crush etc? Pretty pleaseeee?

— sevika being a lovesick puppy for you

synopsis: sevika doesn’t understand why she can’t seem to act normally around silco’s new hire. she’s never had a problem letting anybody know what she thinks about them, but you? you were different. and it was driving her insane.

note: my first req 🥹 so sorry if this was sloppy I did it last minute but I was just excited to write this for you. I hope you like it and thank you for sending this in!

𖥔 sevika wouldn’t consider herself a shy romantic. she isn’t the type to stutter when she sees a person she likes and she definitely has no problem walking up to people she finds attractive and asking them out. when she wants something, she goes for it.

𖥔 that’s why she was baffled when she met you. you were silco’s new hire and when he informed sevika about you saying you were his new informant and that you’d be joining her in missions, she didn’t think much of it.

𖥔 what she didn’t expect was her becoming so smitten by you that she avoided talking to you for the first couple of weeks. there was just something about you and the way you walked into a room and her eyes immediately gravitated towards you but she just couldn’t seem to muster the courage to introduce herself.

𖥔 you assumed she was either just guarded or that she didn’t like you. you tried not to take it personally but you had to admit it was torture because you found the older woman incredibly interesting and wanted to strike up a conversation with her.

𖥔 but it seems like whenever she sees you she refuses to acknowledge your presence. walking past you, answering your work related questions with either a hum or a nonchalant ‘yes’ or ‘no’

𖥔 what you didn’t know is that sevika was losing her mind because she’s never acted this way around anybody.

𖥔 perhaps it was your innocent and warm personality that made her hesitant to talk to you, because you were so different from her and everybody else that worked for silco. you didn’t seem like you fit here but you always got the job done when asked and that just flustered her even more.

𖥔 not to mention, you’re hot. so fucking hot especially when you’d walk around in those tight fitted shorts you always wore that showed off your legs and thighs that made her mouth go dry every single time.

𖥔 sometimes you’d do things by accident that would make her brain go haywire. whether it was leaning against the bar talking to thieram and you’d arch your back enough for your ass to poke out. how you’d fold your arms together and it’d cause your tits to be pushed together. how every time you’d talk to someone, you have this habit of tilting your head and biting your lower lip and she’d have to restrain yourself from biting her entire fist.

𖥔 don’t even get her started on the way you say her name, your voice all sultry and sweet “sevika? are you ready to go?” she always ends up giving you a nod because she knew if she responded verbally she’d be a spluttering mess.

𖥔 she didn’t want to come across as a bitch but she knew it was likely looking that way, but she just didn’t know how to act around you. it was frustrating.

𖥔 eventually though, you’ve had enough and asked her about it “sevika? can I have a word with you?”

𖥔 she was backed into a corner and she tried so hard not to sound like an idiot “what for?” she asked, hoping you didn’t notice the panic in her tone.

𖥔 you sighed, looking down on your feet “I just wanted to ask if we’re good? I’ve been working here for almost a month now and I know it’s probably not that serious but I just can’t let it slide how you talk to everyone here but me. if I did something wrong that made you dislike me please just-“

𖥔 “what? no!” she exclaimed which surprised you “I mean… fuck. I don’t hate you, princess. you’ve done nothing wrong and you’re…” basically fucking perfect is what she wanted to say, but she stopped herself “you’re good. you’re more than good but I just have a hard time with new hires, it doesn’t help that you’re younger.”

𖥔 “well, that’s silly. you know you can talk to me, I won’t bite.” the implications of your words made her gulp “how about you come to my place this saturday and I cook you lunch? please? I really want to get to know you.”

𖥔 trying to talk to you while there was so many people around was already a struggle, imagine being left alone with you “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

𖥔 “please?” and there it is again, that tone you always use that makes her fucking melt “I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

𖥔 the next thing sevika knew, it was saturday and she was in front of your door wondering whether or not her decision to come to your place was a great idea.

𖥔 truth be told, you had every right to feel hurt about sevika’s ambivalence towards you, but usually people would just let it slide because they were scared of her. you though?

𖥔 “sevika, hi!” you said as you greeted her at your door “I was wondering when you’d show.”

𖥔 she offered an awkward smile “yeah well, I didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

𖥔 what she came to realize as soon as she arrived however, both to her pleasure and horror, was that you were good company to have around. which she hated. it was enough that she was not only attracted to you physically but the fact she was smitten by your personality as well made her want to pull her hair out. you could talk for hours and she’d listen to every single word.

𖥔 “I’m really glad we cleared the air because I was scared that I did something wrong for you to ignore me,” you said with a sheepish smile as you ate lunch with her “for a moment, I thought I was being a show off which might’ve annoyed you…”

𖥔 sevika immediately shook her head “no, that’s not… don’t ever think that.” you blinked up at her, as if to coax her into saying what really was the reason why she avoided you like the plague.

𖥔 and she thought since she’s here and there’s no point in acting like a sappy teenager at her grown age, she might as well come clean “I just find you attractive is all, princess. you came in and you had this sparkle about you and I didn’t know how to handle it. I’m used to being surrounded with old men at work so seeing you - young, bright and full of potential… I didn’t know how to make of it.”

𖥔 you were stunned for a second, your mouth agape “sev…” you bit your lip as you look down on your plate “well… if it’s any consolation I must say the feelings are mutual.”

𖥔 sevika’s eyes widened so much she swore they almost popped out.

𖥔 “what?” she asked as you nodded.

𖥔 “yeah, you’re so experienced and good at your job and silco trusts you so much. that’s why it was a big deal that you liked me or not because the truth is, out of everyone at work, I crave your validation the most.”

𖥔 her throat bobbed at your confession, an unmistakable heat pooling at her insides “yeah?” she said hoarsely.

𖥔 you smiled “I mean, of course, take it as you will. but I just wanted to let you know.”

𖥔 sevika swore she wasn’t going to cave into the allure of your words, of what they suggested, you were the new hire and it’d be so unprofessional of her to make a move on you. she kept that in mind even as you both finished lunch and she was about to walk out your apartment and leave…

𖥔 that’s why she doesn’t understand how she got here, stomach flat on the bed with your thighs trembling on both sides of her head as she licked a fat stripe off your leaking pussy. looking up at you with needy eyes and you stared back at her, a sly grin on your face.

𖥔 “oh sevi…” you moaned “and here I thought you hated me.”

[technofeudalism]

imagine living your entire life and being this naive and optimistic about the country you live in. yeah. everyone in the United States is equally enraged about Green Card and Visa holders being kidnapped off the street. that's why there's hundreds of thousands of people marching to stop it.

no one is actually waiting until this effects them to act. that's crazy talk. there's definitely no historical precedent for that behavior either. people are saying "oh no citizens could be next" out loud over and over and not actually doing anything or forming any sort of meaningful resistance is because of the media, who has been playing videos of Mahmoud Khalil and a whole assortment of other students being charged with terrorism without due process for the last month now, on EVERY major news outlet in the United States.

corporate media simply groomed grown adults into thinking none of this is happening. it isn't antipathy or self preservation or selfishness or xenophobia. and it's just a coincidence that they qualify every statement with "well, if they TRULY weren't supporting Hamas....." as if that matters whatsoever when it comes to the 1st Amendment.

that's why Trump's approval rating has cratered to a devastating *checks notes* 47%.

let's check and see how Americans actually feel about abducting people who aren't "US citizens" right now!

WASHINGTON, March 26 (Reuters) - U.S. President Donald Trump gets better marks for his hardline approach to immigration than he does on his handling of the economy, foreign policy or other issues, Reuters/Ipsos polling shows, as the Republican tries to ramp up arrests and deportations. About half of U.S. respondents in recent polls approved of Trump's approach to immigration compared with a little more than a third who thought he was doing a good job dealing with the high cost of living, the other major issue in his 2024 campaign.

wow! i wonder if this number will wind up shifting whatsoever when the first "American Citizen" gets tossed in the back of a van for saying mean things about Elon Musk online. i wonder how people would react to that. i wonder if 49% of the American public would still approve of Trump's "immigration" policies if it was a white, blonde, Christian college student rather than a Muslim from some "weird nation" in the Middle East.

i'm sorry that i insinuated that the American public doesn't see immigrants as citizens or even human beings. it's just a coincidence that 40% of the country approves of putting immigrants in concentration camps while they await deportation. i've simply miscalculated the average American's passion for immigration reform.

every single article, post or mention of a Muslim or Latino person on a Visa or Green Card getting dragged off the street by masked men in broad daylight has the same exact comments: "wow, they're gonna start doing this to citizens soon." some of these people have lived here since they were 8 months old and have lived here for over 30 years. it's very telling that Americans are still are managing to separate them in their head from a "citizen" and that their outrage will be far greater when it's someone who "actually lives here" as if 3 decades in the same country shouldn't qualify you for the same rights as everyone else.

[goldfades]

missing social media manager rn☹️☹️ hope she’s doing okay!

here's what im thinking --

it’s march. the last game at gampel.

the kind of night that makes manager feel like she’s floating and sinking at the same time. the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest, but the energy of the crowd—of her girls—lifting her right back up.

it’s been a long season. a grueling season. full of injuries, late-night flights, moments of brilliance, moments of heartbreak. but now, standing on the baseline as the final buzzer echoes through gampel, manager doesn’t feel any of that exhaustion. she just feels full.

the seniors are standing at half-court, wiping at their faces, soaking it all in. paige has her hands on her hips, looking up at the banners like she’s trying to memorize them, like she doesn’t already have every single one seared into her brain.

manager’s phone is blowing up—texts, dms, comments.

she smiles, a little sad but mostly warm. she knows she hasn’t been posting as much. hasn’t been as quick with the clips, the captions, the behind-the-scenes chaos that everyone loves. but it’s hard. it’s hard when she’s here, in it, living through moments she doesn’t want to experience through a screen.

because what’s she supposed to do? pick up her phone and record when she sees paige, red-eyed, hugging geno like she’s never letting go? when azzi buries her face in caroline’s shoulder, gripping the back of her jersey so tight like she’s trying to freeze time?

the team is doing their final walk around the court, waving to the fans, to the student section that’s been packed all year long. manager watches as kk stops to take a picture with a little girl in a uconn jersey three sizes too big. as jana and morgan trade jerseys, laughing through their tears. as sarah jogs over and throws herself into manager’s arms like she’s six, not a freshman who’s already growing into one of the best guards in the country.

“i love you,” sarah sniffles, voice muffled against manager’s hoodie.

manager squeezes her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “i love you too, kid.”

the thing about this job—the thing about this team—is that it never really gets easier. no matter how many years she’s been here, no matter how many seasons she’s seen come and go, it never gets easier to say goodbye.

but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

and she’ll be back online soon. just—just give her a second. she’s here right now.

[hedwig221b]

Hi, If it's not a bother, could you recommend me some sterel fics with void stiles at some point in the fic? Please and thank you ❤️

Hello! Hope you like these ones!

Shadow and Flame by pixieblade

"Get. Away. From. Him.” The teen said harshly. Derek watched bemusedly as Stiles stalked across the loft. His wooden bat dragging along behind him. It made a scratchthumpscrape sound that was almost mesmerizing. Alternative nogitsune/darach meeting. Pre-slash Sterek.

Unexpected Results by pixieblade

What do you do when the people you are supposed to trust, betray you in the worst possible way? What would you do if someone offered you a way out?

Full and Void

Stiles could be meek, sure. In Derek’s arms, softened under the touch, pinned under his weight. He allowed himself to relax only in Derek’s sole presence. Stiles could also look meek. Small, scared. Let the enemies think he was hiding in his mate’s shadow. After all, no one would stop to think that the shadow could ever be dangerous.

Emerald Eyed Mystery by QueenOfAngst21

It's been two months but the Void won't go away. With his brother turning against him and with no where else to turn, Stiles looks to the place he least expected. If Beacon Hills is destroying him then when better to run away then at 1am on a Thursday. Three years later, with the fate of Supernatural world on their shoulders they must return but Stiles isn't defenceless anymore. He's an Alpha Mate and his eyes aren't normal; they are emerald.

Words Alone by SnowshadowAO3

Derek gets the first text message two months after he leaves Beacon Hills. He stares at it for a long time without actually opening it up, trying to figure out why Stiles would be texting him at all. Things start fitting together in Derek’s mind: his dreams, the door he sees Stiles enter, the loss of memory. Stiles’ body, his mind, are no longer just his. Something is sharing it, controlling him. Derek doesn’t know what it is yet, but he’s damn well going to find out. In which the Nogitsune ordeal brings Derek running back to Beacon Hills and, in the end, to Stiles.

Voice of Rage and Ruin by Qayin

Derek is hired as a bodyguard to this kid, Stiles. And the thing is, Stiles seems completely harmless, but everyone keeps telling Derek how he needs to be careful. Stiles is a nogitsune, a human possessed by a powerful deity of chaos and void, and not only does other people want him for his power, but he could potentially hurt others; and then it’s Derek’s job to protect those people — from his client.

Echo of the Void by MissAnnThropic

Post season 3B. After defeating the nogitsune, Stiles takes steps to ensure the demon fox can never possess him again. When things don’t go according to plan, Scott calls Derek to come try and calm Stiles down.

Ready or Not by spaceprincessem

Ready or not here I come “Is it him?” The man whispered to the woman standing next to him, a gleeful smile on his face. “Is that-” “Void?” Stiles asked. Derek took a shuddering breath. Stiles no longer sounded broken or pleading. His tone was cold, cruel, calculating. “Void.” The woman repeated with a small nod of her head. Stiles' smirk widened now, “That’s what you wanted, right?”

i'm here in search of your glory by EvanesDust, spaceprincessem

And standing there, in the dim light of the office was the all powerful emissary whose name had been whispered across the country. The one who could move mountains and part oceans. The one they all called Void. Standing there was Stiles fucking Stilinski. There were so many things Derek wanted to say - needed to say - and Stiles arched an eyebrow, like he was waiting, like he fucking knew. Derek opened his mouth, but the only thing that came out was, “Are you fucking kidding me.”

Together Again by Firebull

When Scott pushed Stiles out of the pack, he unwittingly unleashes the Nogitsune once more. Not that it lets him live long enough to tell anyone about it. Too bad really, because it has plans for a certain werewolf currently living in Mexico.

We are the greatest pretenders by heyshalina, marshmallowfluff

(How am I gonna get myself back home?) Derek wishes Scott wasn't such a failure of an alpha, that he had noticed the aura of darkness around Stiles before Derek had. Maybe then, it would be Scott now, staring into Stiles' empty eyes, at his twisted smile, faced with the prospect of killing him. "You know, I never wanted to be anything other than human."

Other fic recs: angsty fics | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | oblivious!Stiles | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | alive Hales | spanking | royal abo au | longfic

[scribbleqt]

For the upcoming Twisted Wonderland Anime

I love Twisted Wonderland, it’s one of the fandoms I love the most. I’m super excited to see it FINALLY get the anime we’ve all been waiting for YEARS.

I was also really happy that it was getting recognition, and more content. I was happy to welcome people in and have the fandom grow but after seeing the reaction that people had to the trailer.

I wanna gatekeep it now

I’ve seen so many miss characterizations and it’s made me so sad and frustrated. I didn’t fight in the trenches of early game just to come back full circle.

So I’m making this post as an FYI to newer consumers.

A short summary of Twisted Wonderland is it’s basically an isekai of a non magical person who’s brought to a school of magic who worship Disney Villains as heroes. Their job is to deal with dysfunctional student body and Headmaster to find a way back to their world. One the way they uncover the lore to Twisted Wonderland.

Most of us don’t mind answering questions about character, our issue is when people insist on the wrong thing. Like this ISNT a BL, not even close. Don’t assume it is. Me and almost everyone else will correct it.

The MC can be a guy or girl, the game left it anonymous. This also means that the MC could be any age as well. The canon that the Anime is follow is the Manga, and it will be SWITCHING between guy and girl if it’s like the manga.

It is NOT an Otome game. It’s just some silly magical Mobil game from Disney Japan not the Western/American one. We might joke about some characters being from an otome game but that’s because we KNOW the characters. There’s context to WHY we say that.

This was my yap, i know I can’t stop everyone but at least I tried to make awareness. We’ll see how this goes

[batboyblog]

As a born Maine I am now required by state law to tell the story in full.

Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain (always referred to by all 3 names) was born in 1828 in Maine.

He taught himself Greek to get into Bowdoin College, the great love of his life. He'd teach at Bowdoin till the outbreak of the Civil War, unlike many at the college he was an enthusiastic supporter of the Union cause and itched to enter the war, asking the President of Bowdoin for a leave from his job. "I fear, this war, so costly of blood and treasure, will not cease until men of the North are willing to leave good positions, and sacrifice the dearest personal interests, to rescue our country from desolation, and defend the national existence against treachery."

He didn't tell his family he enlisted, to the outrage of his wife who never really forgave him. He was offered the colonelcy of the 20th Maine, as a college educated man, but he turned it down feeling he was not experienced enough, becoming its lieutenant colonel instead.

Chamberlain was promoted to Colonel in June 1863, just before the battle of Gettysburg.

On the second day of Gettysburg Chamberlain and the 20th Maine were assigned to the far left of the Union lines for the battle that would make them famous.

If Union troops could not hold the hill called Little Round Top, rebel forces would encircle and destroy the Army of the Potomac, Washington DC would lay open to Lee's forces, the Union would lose the war.

The Mainers were placed at the far left edge of the line, they were the end of the Union line, if the Confederates could turn them, push them back so the line bent, Little Round Top would fall, the line would fall, the Union would fall.

in the brutal July heat the 20th Maine led by Chamberlain faced a Confederate force twice their size. Time and time again the rebel troops of the 15th Alabama came roaring up the hill, and time and again The Maine threw them back. It's not now known what the famous "Rebel Yell" actually sounded like, though everyone agreed it sounded utterly inhuman. I can only imagine looking down the hill through the trees and hearing it knowing yet another charge from an overwhelming enemy was coming.

The Maine was outmanned, its line a single line of men, and it was running out of ammo. Chamberlain had desperately requested more reinforcements and ammunition. None was coming he was told to hold the line.

The fate of the Union, of freedom over slavery, hung on what a bookish but brave college professor from Maine decided to do next. Out of bullets with the 15th Alabama massing below them for yet another charge that would have surely broken the 20th Maine if they'd stood and fought. He ordered "fix bayonets" and charged down the Hill

can you imagine looking up the hill and seeing the wrath of god coming charging down at you? The Alabamians still outnumbered the Mainers, and they had bullets but the sheer terror of the charging Maine caused them to break and run. Chamberlain was injured in the charge which he did lead from the front, a rebel officer tried to shoot him with a revolver but Chamberlain put his sword to the man's neck and took his pistol which is still in the Maine State Museum to this day.

Chamberlain more than earned a place in history but he wasn't done. Almost a year after Gettysburg at the Battle of Petersburg he was hideously injured. Shot through the right hip and out from the left Chamberlain true to form drew his sword and stabbed into the dirt to hold himself upright in the middle of the battle to rally his men. He held himself up this way till be passed out from blood loss.

He was not expected to live, the papers in Maine wrongly reported his death, General Grant gave him a battlefield promotion to brigadier general. But Chamberlain showed his iron will and did not die on the field at Petersburg, and returned to command. However he never really recovered from the injury.

He returned to active duty by the end of 1864, and it is Chamberlain who meets the Confederates under a white flag outside of Appomattox and learns that General Lee wished to surrender the Army of Northern Virginia. And to Chamberlain General Grant gives the honor to receive the surrender of the Confederate arms

Chamberlain after the war was elected Maine's governor 4 times (though each term was only a year long, what a pain). In 1880 violence broke out over who had been elected governor in the state and group of armed men took over the state capital. Chamberlain, retired from the governorship for over 10 years was summoned and quickly sent the men packing. Both sides of the dispute tried to bribe Chamberlain into declaring them the winner, he refused, and when a mob came to the state capital threatening to kill him, he came out to meet them, unafraid as always. His refusal to support either side over the law was the end of his political life in Maine.

His injury from the war caused him pain for the rest of his life, if you visit his home you'll see nearly every room is fitted with brass rails for him to hang onto when he felt unwell, which was often. Despite his worsening health in old age Chamberlain threw himself into the Grand Army of the Republic, the Civil War veteran's association, he was given the Medal of Honor 30 years after Little Round Top for his "Daring heroism and great tenacity"

In 1914, 50 years after being shot at Petersburg, and years of ill health at the age of 85, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain died in Portland Maine. One of the doctors at his side had been his doctor at Petersburg. Chamberlain it was declared died of the bullet wound he received at Petersburg, 50 years earlier, making him, 49 years after the war ended, the last combat casualty of the Civil War.

On July 2, 1863, Colonel Joshua Chamberlain lead his men of the 20th Maine on a bayonet charge down the slopes of little round top, during the battle of Gettysburg. He would later be awarded the Medal of Honor for his actions that day.

This clip, from the movie Gettysburg, depicts the epic moment in history. It's one of the best, if not the best scene in the movie.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{Heyyy, So a good friend of mine got a flapper costume and I got an idea so here you go!}~

•Club Owner•

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The Waynes were going through the attic.

It had started with an off handed comment from Alfred at lunch [Which everyone was at as who would pass up Alfred’s cooking] and how Alfred wanted to go through the attic but was unable to do it himself so of course the the bats helped and a few hours of doing this Jason brought done something covered in a off white sheet to where the rest of the family was and ask Alfred if he’s ever seen this and he says no.

So the bats uncover it and are met with a large antique mirror with a gold frame and as the bats try to think about why it would be put up there as it looks and probably is very expensive but the mirror’s surface starts to change and shift like water and Tim notices it and immediately yells for everyone to get back and put the cover back on.

But it’s too late, hands come out from the mirror and grab each of the Batfam and pull them in [Alfred, Bruce, Dick,Barbara, Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Cass, Duke, Damien] and everything goes black.

The Batfam wake up to green sky’s and floating islands…and the sound of music?

The bats look to where the music is coming from and is met with a club that looks like it was taken from Gotham in the 1920s and it the bats best shot to find out where they are so they walk in and see a lot of people that look like they stepped straight out of the 1910s, 1920 like the building does and while the bats look around and try to get information without talking to anyone and hiding while in civilian clothes and the bats were doing a good job at it the only person to notice them is a woman in a white flapper dress and a silver pipe in her hand, she met eye contact with Cass but she quickly got up and ran off but that was the only one until the bats heard a growl from behind them.

And the bats are met with a very tall man in a old suit with short black hair and sharp blue eyes that tell if they don’t do what he says he’ll skin them and the very visible gun on his waist does not put the bats at ease.

“What are you doing here.” The Tall man says in a very dangerous voice that makes all of the alarm bells go off for the bats but before they could respond a voice interrupted.

“What is happening here?”

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Background•

As Danny watches his Patrons drunkenly praise and encourage the Dancers as the Dancers purr and sing in delight at the attention Danny can’t help but think back to how this all came to be.

Danny had fully died years ago due to the G.I.W intervention if it wasn’t for Clockwork and his own core involvement Danny would have most definitely would have Faded (When a ghosts Fades they don’t exist anymore it’s like they ultimate death) but thankfully he was saved in time but not fast enough to save whatever part of him was still kicking around..

But that’s was years ago it has been a very long time since than as his home world has already been eaten by their sun but Danny didn’t really know how long exactly as he spent all that time with Clockwork to make sure there were no problems with his full ghost form and to tell Danny that he was the future Ancient of Protection but wouldn’t be able to claim it until much later in his ghost life as he was still a baby ghost.

So Danny was told to wait until the time comes to claim it Clockwork even told him that sleeping would make it go faster but Danny didn’t want to do that so he went exploring and that’s how he met Orson and Beatrix two other Ghost that after Danny had helped them made it so Danny was stuck with them (Not that Danny minded to much he got lonely).

Than they started to talk about how many older ghost don’t really have places to just hang out as older ghost are very overprotective of their haunts and don’t want any other ghost in there and that gave Danny a idea.

So Danny changed a part of his Lair to a Club that looks right out of the 1920s and sends Orson to see if any old ghost would like to have some fun for a change and sends Beatrix to find anyone who would like to work here and did they find people.

Danny still sometimes laughs at how it was in the beginning for his now patrons back than and somehow Beatrix found two Dancers that she knew when she was alive and the rest is history but Danny can’t stay that it makes him happy to have so many people under his protection.

But Danny was brought back to the present as Beatrix runs up to him in her new white dress with her silver pipe in hand and tells him that Orson is going to lose it at some livings that somehow got in.

Danny stands up and goes to where this is happening with Beatrix hot on his tail.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Little Facts•

•In this au an Ancient has to be at more than 10,000 years old as a ghost (that’s why new Ancients are so rare) until than they are a Pre-Ancient, In the past Pre-Ancients most often slept through the waiting period but Danny said “Fuck that!” And did this

•The patrons are VERY protective of the Dancers and Danny

•Beatrix was of course a flapper dancer she had to work as one as her husband was a asshole who refused to work and was horrible to her but one of the patrons at her old club got far to handys [Which she did NOT want] with her and that’s when her husband walked in he dragged her back to their apartment as well as leaving behind her sliver pipe as he dragged her out and when they got back to the apartment he beat the shit out of her and she ended up hitting her head on the side of the table in the room and her ghost got stuck to her pipe but she couldn’t find it until Danny got it back for her and Danny’s had her with him and Orson ever since.

•Orson was a Gotham mob bass when he was alive and a good one too [Acted like red hood] but he was betrayed by his Right-hand man [Who was his boyfriend] and was tortured by his old men and Right-hand Man before he was shot in the head by his own gun and when he died he became a Sade and was forced to relive his death over and over again until Danny found him and helped him become a proper ghost and He’s been by Danny’s side ever since.

•Orson and Beatrix think of Danny like a little sibling to protect and care and Danny thinks of them as his older siblings who he needs to make sure doesn’t commit war crimes to protect him or each other

•Clockwork acts like Danny weird uncle that has probably been to prison or will be soon

•The Patrons are very respectful of Danny because they all know he can beat all of their asses without breaking a sweat

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Appearances•

Danny’s Appearance

Age [Physical] - 19

Fun Fact- Both Bea and Oz have a water and wind core respectively and they got worried about him getting cold even with his ice core so they gave them his furs, he doesn’t need them but they were given to him so he keeps them and always uses them.

Orson’s Appearance

•Nickname- Oz

•Age [Physical] -28

•Fun Fact - He hates it when livings somehow find a way into the club and often scares them off and if not he just gives them to one of the more meat lovers of the patrons.

Beatrix Appearance

Nickname - Bea

Age [Physical] - 19 (she got married very young)

Fun Fact - All of the dresses and accessories she has were given to her by Oz as his love language is gift giving.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

~{And that’s it! Hope you gremlins like this and until next time byeeeee}~

[laylahluvsasians]

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐘 | 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍!𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐔𝐍 𝐉𝐀𝐄 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - you are a scientist that got chosen alongside other scientists and astronauts to complete a mission to the moon to find samples of lunar water. you and the captain have a bit of tension but thats never stopped you from going after what you want.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - sexual innuendos, smut, p in v, fingering.

𝐚/𝐧 - for all of you who wanted the han yun-jae oneshot, also i added an co-captain oc because i felt like it.

you are an american forensic psychologist who was transferred to south koreas science and space administration.

you spoke fluent korean so none of the korean scientists and astronauts looked down on you, in fact you were very well respected.

you were chosen to complete a mission to the moon to retrieve samples of lunar water from an abandoned research station.

the other astronauts who are going on this mission are Dr. Song Ji-an, an astrobiologist. Kim young the co-captain. Captain Han Yun-jae. Lieutenant Ryu Tae-seok, the head engineer. Dr. Hong Ga-young the team’s medical officer. Gong Soo-hyuk, the head of security. Lastly, Kim Sun leads the pilot team.

the captain han yun-jae was a strict man who didn’t like to lack his job. he was fairly young, around mid 30s. he has an daughter back on earth who is his main priority.

the co-captain kim young was much nicer to everybody. she is an astronaut and one of the most respected people in the lab.

the entire team is currently in the conference room with high executive mr.choi going over the mission.

mr choi stands in front of everyone with a stern face and hands behind his back. he begins to talk to the team.“you have done well to be apart of this team, we chose you because you are one of the very best from this entire organization.” mr choi eyes everyone before his eyes lands on you, you give him a small smile.

“this mission isn’t going to be an easy one.” his stern face not cracking a smile like usual. “captain han, choose ur partner”

captain han and the co-captain give each other a look and a slight nod before turning their attention to mr choi. “i’d like the co-captain kim young to be my partner, sir.”

Mr choi nodded. “very well. Dr.hong, choose ur partner”

Dr.hong’s eyes landed on you and she replied. “I’d like dr. y/n to be my partner. i could always use a forensics person with me.”

mr choi makes eye contact with you and smiles at you softly before continuing on to the rest of the crew.

after everyone chooses their partners mr.choi releases everyone so that you could all handle whatever you have to before ur boosted into space.

the next day.

everyone enters, some seem more tense then others. once everyone has entered the shuttle, the doors are shut and all of them make their way to their seat. the captain, co-captain, and the engineers take their place at their seats.

the engines begin to power up as everyone buckles their seatbelts. the shuttle starts moving and then, it lifts off from the ground.

the shuttle rockets into space and you can look through the glass windows at the planet earth. it becomes smaller and smaller the farther you are from it.

some people seem a little afraid to be up in space, but others seem fine. you can see how beautiful it is all the way the up here. the co-captain looks over at you, before giving you a small reassuring smile.

“we will be entering the moon’s orbit soon. so buckle your seatbelts, the gravity will be different when we enter the moon.” the captain speaks through the intercom.

as soon as the words leave the captain’s mouth, the people who seemed a little frighten before seemed even more frighten. the co-captain lets out a small sigh before her intercom comes online. “listen to the captain, if you wish to survive this trip and not float through the shuttle, i recommend you to buckle your seatbelt, the gravity with change soon.”

you then feel the shuttle entering the moon’s gravity. everyone gets a little lighter feeling as the gravity changes. the co-captain, captain, and all the engineers are hard at work piloting the ship.

but just then red lights began flashing and the ship began to malfunction causing the pilot to issue an emergency landing which worked but also didn’t.

the shuttle crashed into the moons surface hard, and barley steadied on the edge of the moon, tipping off.

people are dazed and confused after the hard landing. the lights in the shuttle flicker before losing power. a few people groan as they take off their seatbelt.

the captain is the first to get up and out of his seat. he helps the co-captain get up from her seat before he speaks. “is everyone okay?”

everyone seems to be a little confused and dizzy, but none of them seem seriously hurt. the co-captain manages to get the intercom to turn on and she speaks. “everyone seems fine, captain. just a little bit dazed from the hit.”

“we need to get out before the shuttle falls” you add into the conversation.

people stumble around, trying to get off the shuttle. the captain and co-captain help and make sure everyone is out before they move away from the shuttle.

everyone huddles around each other, and looks at the damage of the shuttle. one of the engines is blown up, a few others are smoking, and the side of the shuttle has dents all over it.

everyone steps back as the shuttle falls to the ground. the captain curses under his breath as everyone watches the shuttle fall.

“well, we can’t go back. so we need to find the research station.” the captain states as he starts walking away as the team follows him.

the team walks through the endless craters and dust all over the surface of the moon with little to no oxygen. they walk for miles, until they see a building in the distance. it slowly comes into view as they walk closer.

they finally arrive at the research base. the team takes a minute to look up at the building, it was in good shape, just looked unused.

the team is in awe at how big the building seems to be. the captain and the co-captain seem the most impressed. "it's definitely bigger than what was in the reports."

the captain and the co-captain give each other a look, before starting to walk towards the door. "let's go."

the team follows the captain as he enters the building. it looks much cleaner on the inside. the rooms seem very empty, but the equipment is still in tact.

the team wanders around the building, seeing the empty rooms and equipment still there. the equipment is still on. this building looks like everyone just left in a hurry without shutting anything off.

the captain starts lecturing everybody and the co-captain starts co-signing, it was almost annoying.

you lean over and whispered to the lieutenant. “of course she’s dickriding him”

the lieutenant hides his laugh with a fake cough when the captain looks at you both, causing you to wave at him innocently.

the captain eyes you both suspiciously before returning to his lecturing. the lieutenant let’s out a stifled laugh as the co-captain shoots both of you a look.

"stay close to each other. we know nothing about what happened down here at this base.” the entire team goes silent at the captain's stern words. they all share looks before nodding in agreement

the team begins to explore the research station. they move with caution and are very careful. the captain and the co-captain take the lead, while the others move in the middle and ur partner dr. hong and you at the back.

“the captain’s lucky he’s sexy or i would’ve quit” you whisper to dr.hong.

the lieutenant almost snorts out loud and stifles a laugh in his hand when you whisper to the doctor. the doctors face turns a light shade of pink from embarrassment. “will you shut up, he could hear you.”

you shrug and reply with no shame. “good, id let him hit.”

the lieutenant lets out a few stifled chuckles when you say that. doctor hong whips her head and gives you a look. “oh my god, do you have no filter?”

the lieutenant can barely hold his laugh in anymore as he covers his face with his arm.

she gives you another look as she crosses her arms. “i swear you’re ridiculous.”

the lieutenant can’t hold it in anymore and he starts to laugh out loud. the attention of everybody goes to you two. the captain turns around with a raised eyebrow.

doctor hong immediately tries to hide her embarrassment as the captain eyes the two of you with annoyance. the co-captain seems amused by the situation, and the rest just watch with a mix of confusion and amusement.

the co-captain struggles to hide her smile and the lieutenant is still recovering from his previous laughing fit. the captain sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly unamused. the doctor hides her face in her hands.

"can you two please be serious. we have work to do here." he says through a clenched jaw.

the lieutenant and you sheepishly nod, trying to stifle your laughs. doctor hong takes a deep breath before peeking through her fingers at the captain.

the captain gives you both a look before turning his attention back to the team. "we will spilt up and search through this entire base. you have a hour to find anything interesting. understood."

everyone voices in agreement before splitting up into smaller groups to look around the base. the team disperses into small clusters of twos and threes in different rooms and areas of the base.

as you begin to walk away, you hear the captain call out to you. “dr. y/n, come here for a moment.”

you halt your movements and turn around to see the captain staring at you. you walk over to him before he grabs your arm and pulls you aside.

he leans down to your ear, making sure no one else can hear him. "I need to speak to you privately for a moment. just us”

you blink a few times at his words before nodding in understanding. a bit curious as to why he wants to speak with just you, you follow him to a secluded corner of the room.

he stops when you’re in a small corner where no one can see you both. he leans back on the wall, and crosses his arms as he stares at you with a blank gaze.

you put ur hand on ur hip and smirk slightly, feeling a bit cocky. “like what you see?”

he doesn’t speak or respond for a few seconds as he keeps his gaze on you. a ghost of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth before he speaks. "I wouldn’t mind staring longer, but we have a mission to complain.”

he pushes himself off the wall and stands in front of you, towering over you as the corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk again.

he leans closer so your faces are only inches apart. your heart races a little bit as you stand there, pinned in between him and the wall. he looks down at you with a hint of amusement in his eyes before he speaks again. "did you think I wouldn’t hear what you were saying to the doctor earlier?"

you tilt ur head slightly. “i was hoping you heard it actually.”

his smirk widens a little as he raises an eyebrow at your words. "oh really? and why would you want me to hear it?"

you lean in closer towards him. “so you could take my suggestion.”

now you got his full attention. he leans in even closer, his face only centimeters from yours. he lowers his voice, so only you could hear him. "and what exactly is this 'suggestion'."

“that you fuck me.” you respond with no hesitation.

he lets out a low chuckle when you say that. he puts his hand on the wall behind you, completely trapping you in between him and the wall. "is that so? you want me to fuck you? right here in this station."

you smirk proudly. “yep.”

he lets out an amused laugh as he stares into your eyes. he brings his face closer to yours. "you're ridiculous, you know that. i could get in a lot of trouble if anyone heard you say that."

you lean against the wall and cross ur arms. “awh, how so?”

he raises an eyebrow at you.

he looks at you like you grew two heads. "how so? are you serious? i’m the captain, and you’re a member of the team. we’re on a mission to collect a important research sample. it’s highly inappropriate for me to do that with a member of my team. let alone do it in the middle of this research station."

“nobody has to know.” you put on ur best seduction tone and leaned against him.

he looks at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “oh really? and how would we keep this a secret? this place echoes, you know that right?”

“bold of you to assume im loud.” you reply sassily.

he gives another amused smirk at your words, bringing his face closer to yours again. “oh i can guarantee you’ll be screaming my name by the time i’m done with you.”

he presses his body against yours, pinning you up against the wall. he leans down so your faces are only a few centimeters apart. your heart pounds wildly in your chest as he moves his mouth your ear. “let’s see if you can keep quiet.”

he brings one of his hands up and cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. his face is still blank, but his eyes are filled with amusement as his thumb rubs your bottom lip.

“keep quiet and i’ll let you scream all you want after this” he whispers as his thumb moves from your lip to your chin, gently lifting it up so your mouth is aligned with his.

he doesn’t waste any time as he closes the small gap between you, capturing your mouth in a kiss. his hand grabs the back of your neck, pressing you further into his body as he kisses you deeply.

he pushes his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, as he presses his body harder against you. his lips move against yours, hungry and needy for you.

his free hand grabs your waist, his grip tight around it as he presses your body even closer against his. his thumb rubs soothing circles on your hip as his tongue continues to explore your mouth.

a moan escapes from your mouth as his lips move down to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. his hand moves from your chin to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair.

he lets out a low moan against your neck as he continues to kiss down your collarbone. you can feel his breath against your skin, hot and needy as he pushes his body even harder into yours.

he lifts you up, making ur legs wrap around his waist. he carry’s you to the control center and sits you down on the desk.

“are you wet for me?” he whispers into your ear, his voice filled with need and desire. his touch is firm and possessive, as if he’s laying claim to every inch of your body. “shall we see?”

you’re too lost in the moment, words have failed you. all you can do is nod, giving him the permission he craves.

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the anticipation building within you. his lips begin to trail down your neck, his hands gently teasing the hem of your jeans.

he undoes the button on ur jeans, carefully removing them while he continues to kiss and nip at your skin. he can sense how desperate you are for more, and his own desire matches yours.

his fingers lightly brush against the waistband of ur underwear, teasing you further as your breathing becomes uneven.

you can feel his gaze on you, as he looks up at your face, wanting to see your reaction to his touch.

his hands slide beneath the fabric of your underwear, his fingertips gently tracing along your sensitive skin, getting closer to where you wanted him the most.

his lips capture yours in a heated kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.

your body is practically pleading for his touch, and he finally grants your silent wish. his fingers trail along ur core, gently stroking at first, before applying more pressure

he can hear the moan escape your lips, and he can feel just how much you want him, how much you need him.

he continues to move his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, wanting to drive you absolutely insane.

he watches your face, how you’re biting your lip, trying to hold back your moans. he loves how you look like this, how you’re completely at his mercy.

his name escapes your lips, barely more than a whisper, and he can tell how close you are. he leans to your ear, his hot breath causing your entire body to shudder.

“let me hear you” his other hand grabs you by the chin, making you look right at him as he continued to touch you in all the right ways

the look in his eyes, his words, and his touch all combine into one overwhelming feeling, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

your body is completely overwhelmed, and you’re barely able to form a sentence. “please..”

he smirks, loving how desperate you sound, how you’re practically begging him, but he knows you can take more, and he’s determined to bring you to absolute ecstasy.

he slips a finger into you, stretching you out.

your body tensed up at the sudden sensation, waves of pleasure coursing through you.

he watches you closely, his eyes dark with desire, as he begins to move his finger inside you, each motion sending shockwaves through your body.

you can barely form a thought, the room is spinning and all you can focus on is his touch, his eyes, and the overwhelming pleasure that he was causing you.

he knows he is in full control of your body and you can barely move yourself.

he adds another finger, his pace quickening, knowing exactly how to get you to the edge. “you’re so damn beautiful like this” his voice is ragged with desire, and every bit of self control he has is being used to resist the urge to just take you right then and there.

he could see how close you were and he wanted to make sure you were completely undone before he gave you the release you needed so desperately.

your body clenches around his fingers, desperate for more, and you can hardly breathe from the intense sensations coursing through you.

he curls his fingers in just the right spot, hitting a nerve that makes you see stars. you cry out his name, completely lost in the sensations he’s creating within you.

he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his words barely audible. “let go for me, sweet girl.”

his words send you over the edge, waves of pure ecstasy crashing over you as you come undone beneath his touch.

you’re trembling violently, completely undone by the overwhelming sensations, and he continues to watch you with a mixture of awe and desire. he can’t get enough of you like this, vulnerable and completely his.

his grip on you tightens, not ready to let you go just yet.

he quickly unzips his pants, and he pulls you forward, your bodies now almost touching, and leans in to kiss you desperately. the taste of your lips only makes him want you more, and he presses himself against you, his hardness already obvious.

his hands roam over your body, unable to resist the urge to touch you everywhere he could reach, to feel the heat of your skin against his own.

he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged as he tries to control his desire. “i need to be in you.”

the words send a shiver of excitement through you, and you can hardly believe this is finally happening.

he positions himself between your thighs, his hands on your hips.

he looks into your eyes, the intensity of his gaze almost overwhelming. “last chance to back out”

you quickly shake ur head and look into his eyes. “i want this.”

he can see the desire in your eyes and his own desire takes over completely.

he lines himself up, the tip of his cock gently pressing against your entrance. he wants to savor this moment, but he’s already so close to the edge he knows he can’t hold back.

he wants to hold back, to go slow, but he's completely overtaken by his desire for you, by how much he wants you.

he takes a deep breath and thrusts into you slowly, trying to be gentle even as his body is on autopilot, wanting nothing more than to claim you.

his mouth finds your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers how beautiful you look, how much he wants you.

he can barely hold back, but he doesn't want to be any rougher than he has to be.

he looks into your eyes, checking if he was hurting you, and when he sees that you're just as lost in the moment as he is, he loses the last bit of his self-control.

he begins to move faster, each thrust harder than the last, his grip on your hips tight, almost bruising.

he's completely possessed by the pleasure of being inside you, by the way you feel surrounding him.

he can't think, he can't speak, he can only feel, and all he can think about is how much he wants you, how much he needs you, how all he wants is to make you his. forever.

he reaches down, slipping a hand between your bodies to tease your sensitive clit, wanting to bring you the same amount of pleasure he’s experiencing.

he wants to give you everything you need, to please you in ways you didn’t know were possible, to take you to heights you’ve never reached before.

his fingers move deftly, finding all the right spots, his lips finding yours again, desperate and eager to taste you.

he swallows up your moans as he deepens the kiss, completely consumed by you. he can tell how close you are to the edge, and he wants to feel the moment you completely let go.

he moves his hand as well as his body in every way he knows you love, determined to bring you to the peak of pleasure that he was experiencing himself.

he whispers against your lips, the heat of his breath, and the sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine.“let me see you come apart for me, love” he moves ur leg ontop of his shoulder creating a new angle.

your body is completely overcome with sensation, and you’re barely able to form a thought other than the overwhelming, all encompassing sense of pleasure that is coursing through your every nerve.

the way his body feels against yours, the way he touches you, the way he looks at you as he takes you to the peak of pleasure, is all too much for you to bear.

he can see the moment you completely let go, your body clenching around him as you find your release. he holds you tightly as you ride out the waves of pleasure, his grip on you unrelenting, yet gentle at the same time.

he stares at you completely enamored by the beauty of you in your most vulnerable state.

he gently lifts you up, still not letting you go, and kisses you tenderly, the intensity between you now replaced with affection. he wraps his arms around you, gently stroking your back as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

he finally comes down from the high and rests his head on your shoulder, his breath ragged, completely spent. he holds you close, as if he can't bear to let you go, as if by holding you close, he cant help himself from whispering dirty things into your ear.

“when we get back to earth, we aren’t stopping.”

[lemotmo]

I just watched 911 8x12!

I really liked it. It didn’t go as hard as the previous three episodes, but it had so many small subtle and interesting Buddie details that make me salivate!

Here are some of my thoughts in no specific order:

The call about the pizza guy and his car was hilarious. I loved the guy and how good Buck and Chim were together in those scenes. But Athena? Come on! You are a clever woman! How could you be so stupid as to park your police car right under a car that is about to fall?

Then the Maddie storyline. I screamed out loud when she dreamed that her throat was slashed again! 😬

I love how they actually showed Maddie having some trauma after what she went through. Her talk with Athena was great and the way she got her voice back? Again, because of the love for her child? Really good. It was also very sweet how Chimney supported her in everything and I’m glad those two have found each other.

This leads me directly into the Eddie storyline, because just like Maddie he had someone there to support him. 😏

We now know that Eddie has been in Texas for three weeks, which is good to know. I like how he didn’t get the job at that El Paso fire house, because then he would have been stuck for real, giving the Captain his word like that. Now we know for sure he’ll be back soon.

I like how we get a parallel to Eddie in Maddie’s first call. That kid called 911 for his father and because the building was on fire. He told Maddie that his dad had just moved to LA for a job. I mean, that is so on the nose. And who swoops in to save them? Buck and Ravi, with Buck actually picking up the boy. Listen, I love Chris, but I’m thinking he’ll be involved in something big this season and Buck will be there to save him and possibly even Eddie. It was such an interesting parallel to the tsunami arc as well. Something is happening to the Diaz family and Buck will save them. 🙂‍↕️

I’m kinda sad that we missed that first meeting between Eddie and Chris, but I love how we can clearly see that Chris is doing okay and he’s ready to forgive his dad.

I still hate Helena though.🙄 The way she subtly undermined Eddie’s agency as a parent in that first scene with the PS5. It was so annoying. I love how his dad obviously seems to realise that his son is trying his best and that his wife is out of line. I think we’ll get a confrontation between Eddie and his mom next episode and his dad will take Eddie’s side.

The way Eddie becomes ‘Edmundo’ when he’s in Texas is so painful as well. That’s why I’m so happy that Buck is always there to call him by his real name: Eddie.

Whatever happened to the robbery at the store? We saw that in those stills, didn't we? Did they cut it?

Eddie as an Uber driver was a good idea, because then he can give up his job anytime to go back to LA. It’s obvious he is trying hard, but he doesn’t like it at all. When he was yapping to all those people? I laughed out loud. How did he not realise that was not a good idea? You know how married couples sometimes take over personality traits from each other? Well he got the nervous yapping from Buck, no doubt. It was such a Buck thing to do. 😋

I hate how alone he seems to be, which again is counteracted by his lifeline to Buck.

I like how Chris found out about his dad being a driver and I love how he is now old enough to not hold it against him and realise his dad is trying hard to do right by him. He gave back the PS5. I mean, that says enough. That last hug. I cried so hard when that happened.😭

Then the whole Buddie of it all. The show could have just shown us Eddie’s struggles in El Paso, him disconnected from everyone in LA. Instead they specifically showed us his connection to Buck. He didn’t call anyone else! If he did they didn’t show us. But they thought they needed to show us the Buddie calls? Come on! They are laying it on so thick right now. I love it!

Buck casually cooking while talking to Eddie? Telling him he can’t come back, because he knows that Eddie will be miserable without Chris? He knows his husband so well. Buck would love Eddie to come back, but he knows he would never be happy without his son. I mean… remember Josh’s speech? Are his concerns your concerns? Is his happiness as important as yours?

We are seeing ALL of that right now! They are tying these two together in a distinctly non-friendship kind of way.

Buck is shown to have his back. He tells him to talk to Chris after the kid found out about his dad’s real job. He knows that Eddie internalizes everything and he knows what Eddie is going to try to avoid the 'talk' and what he needs to do. HE KNOWS HIM so well! Just like Eddie KNOWS Buck so well. They keep showing us this deep understanding and trust between them.

The amount of times Eddie said 'Buck' in this episode as well... I should probably watch again and count it. But it was very noticable.

And then they parallel this with Madney and how deep they support each other. I mean… this is like watching a Buddie fanfiction come to life. They are showing us these two have each other’s back, no matter what happens or where they are. I love how they are telling us their story right now.

A few more random things from this episode:

Eddie selling his car and calling it ‘sexy’? Really? How interesting. 🤭

No Diaz sisters! I’m so sad! 😭

I loved that girl who told Eddie to shut up and gave him some good Uber driver tips!

The PS5 was a nice gesture, but you can’t buy love like that. I’m glad both Eddie and Chris realized it.

LOL! Hot gal and guy were only there to make out in the car. I'm sure the actress has all the ins and outs about the 911 characters. *sarcasm* 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

The puke and Eddie cleaning it up sent me. Eddie! You are a father, firefighter and medic and you are disgusted by some vomit? Come on dude! Woman up!

I love how they casually mentioned that Bobby will always have Eddie’s job in LA lined up for him if he decides to come back. It’ll make things a lot easier when he gets back. We already know where this is going right?

As for next week. Hen becoming a hostage on that bus with a crazy knife guy? And again no sign of Eddie’s storyline? Colour me intrigued. 🤔

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 3) Chapter Eleven

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Eleven: Saiki versus Volcano

Summary: It's time for Saiki to face the thing stopping him from growing with (Y/N).

            “Morning, guys,” said (Y/N), already sitting with Saiki. The night was long gone, and their plan with the psychics was well on its way to fruition. Everyone was in place; they just needed to be, as well.

            “You’re up early,” said Kuboyasu.

            “Well, Saiki and I were planning on going out for a snack together.” (Y/N) smiled. “A date.”

            “That’s so romantic.” Yumehara sighed wistfully.

            “Have fun,” said Teruhashi.

            “Will we see you later?” said Kaidou.

            “Hopefully for lunch,” said (Y/N). If the world hasn’t ended.

            “Okay!” said Nendou.

            “Bye,” said Saiki.

            “Have fun!” said Hairo.

            (Y/N) smiled and waved before they headed out with Saiki. “And now we have our cover.”

            “We do.” Saiki was so glad to have them by his side.

            “And Toritsuka will meet up with the group ‘by chance’ to distract them a bit,” said (Y/N).

            “He’s an idiot, but he can get the job done,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) chuckled.

l

            “I still don’t get all of this.” Miko waved a hand at all the clones of Saiki. “They’re weird looking. Can’t you, like, make them better looking?”

            “Their appearance changes slightly each time,” said Saiki. “I don’t control it.”

            “Plus, they’re here so that Kusuo doesn’t have to do all the work on his own.” (Y/N) frowned. “Or are the clones still him so it is on his own? These things are complicated.”

            “We need them all to prevent the eruption,” said Saiki. “Aiura, you’re here tell me where the eruptions will appear.”

            “Duh, I can do that,” said Miko.

            “And (Y/N) shouldn’t be here,” said Saiki.

            “No,” said (Y/N). “But I wasn’t going to let you do this alone.” They smiled.

            “And no one can say no to that smile,” said Miko.

            No one, thought Saiki. “Everyone, places. Ten minutes until eruption.”

            Saiki floated into the air towards an eruption site. Another clone stood by him. Others spread out through the mountains and to the ocean.

            “Saiki, problem!” said Miko as the tremors began. “I can only see as far as eruption seven.”

            “It’s fine,” responded Saiki telepathically. “Here it comes.”

            The tremors began, and (Y/N) watched Saiki anxiously as clones began to contain the eruptions with all of their power. Saiki kept a close on the clones.

            “Keep it up,” said Saiki.

            “Don’t say it like it’s easy, you try keeping the magma under control,” said the clone. Every single clone was working as hard as they could while the eruptions and tremors continued to grow stronger. “This may not hold!”

            “We’re out of clones, they’re all in position!” said (Y/N), eyes widening.

            “I’ll do it.” Saiki stepped forward.

            “Kusuo!” Worry was apparent in (Y/N)’s voice.

            “I’m ending this here.” Saiki slammed his hands down on the ground. “This eruption and this time loop. It’s to move forward!”

            With a final, tremendous shake, the mountain froze. (Y/N) held their breath. Saiki heaved in a few breaths.

            “It stopped,” said Miko in awe.

            (Y/N) darted forward instantly. “Kusuo!” They knelt beside him. “Kusuo, are you alright?”

            Kusuo collapsed the moment they were beside them. (Y/N) caught him, supporting him close as they gazed at him worriedly.

            “The eruption stopped,” he said, gazing at their face. It was worth all the strain. “Time is moving forward again.” He smiled slightly. He was going to have his future with (Y/N).

            They smiled and hugged him. “I’m so proud of you. Seriously, Kusuo. I’m so proud.” They kissed him softly before leaning back.

            “Yare yare.” Saiki smiled and pulled them back in for another kiss.

            “Huh?”

            Miko, Saiki, and (Y/N) froze. They turned to see their entire friend group, including Toritsuka—complete with a guilty expression—staring at them. However, Saiki and the clone were the main focus.

            “What’s going on?” said Kaidou. “What’re you doing, Saiki, (L/N)?”

            Why are they here? thought Saiki, eyes wide.

            “What’s going on here?” repeated Kaidou.

            “Toritsuka wasn’t supposed to bring them here,” whispered (Y/N) in alarm.

            “Oopsy,” said Toritsuka.

            “…It’s a spirit,” sighed Miko, and (Y/N) and Saiki groaned.

            “Is that another Saiki?!” cried the group, staring at the clones.

            Oh, it’s not the volcano. It could be worse. Not by much, but still.

            “There’re so many!” said Kaidou.

            “Yare yare.” There didn’t seem to be a way out of this. Saiki gripped (Y/N)’s hand tighter. “Why are they here, Toritsuka?” he spoke directly into Toritsuka’s mind.

            Saiko, thought Toritsuka.

            Saiki sighed.

            “What is it?” whispered (Y/N).

            “Saiko’s fault,” said Saiki.

            “Of course.”

            “Why are there two of you?” said Saiko, appearing out of nowhere (not really, though, since a helicopter was behind them).

            “Yare yare. I didn’t notice because of the eruption,” groaned Saiki quietly, leaning on (Y/N). “We were seen from above.”

            “And Saiko brought everyone in the helicopter to impress them.” (Y/N) knew the people they cared about.

            “Hey, Saiki!” said Kuboyasu. “Explain how there are two of you!”

            “What were you doing holding the ground?” asked Yumehara.

            “What’s going on?” asked Teruhashi.

            Saiki paused and looked at (Y/N). They grimaced and squeezed his hand.

            “Okay, I’ll come clean. We’re twins,” said Saiki.

            “…” We already did the sibling lie.

            “Twins, really?!” exclaimed Kuboyasu.

            “How come you never told us?” said Kaidou.

            “Yare yare.”

            “We’re going to head off now.” The other clones waved goodbye at Saiki.

            Everyone’s eyes bulged out in shock. A second Saiki was something they could handle. Nine others? Nope.

            “Call us if you need us again,” said the clones.

            “I will—”

            “(Y/N), not you,” said the clones before walking away.

            I hate clones, decided Saiki.

            “Um. Uh…” (Y/N) and Saiki’s friends stared.

            “They’re all siblings!” said Toritsuka.

            “That’s a stretch,” said Miko, rolling her eyes.

            “I’m serious!” said Toritsuka.

            “I’m leaving.” Saiki was too tired to deal with this. He’d just erase their memories letter.

            “Just tell us the truth!” Kaidou spoke up, and everyone looked at him in surprise. “We’re friends, aren’t we? At least, you are to me, and I want you to trust me! Don’t keep secrets from us.”

            “Yes, tell us everything,” said Mera.

            “Nothing you say could make us hate you,” said Teruhashi.

            “Come on, Saiki!” said Yumehara.

            “Tell us!” said Kuboyasu.

            (Y/N) squeezed Saiki’s hand. “Whatever you decide to do is alright. This is up to you. Your boundaries are your own.”

            Saiki nodded shortly and squeezed their hand in return. “I’m sorry.” He looked at everyone. “But I can’t tell you. Not yet, anyway.”

            “What?” said Kaidou. “But—”

            “That’s totally fine.” Nendou, the only person who hadn’t spoken yet, smiled. “You don’t have to say if you don’t wanna.”

            (Y/N) smiled.

            “Nendou…” said Kaidou in surprise.

            “I’m stupid, so I don’t really get it,” said Nendou. “But if whatever he says isn’t gonna change our friendship, then there’s no need.”

            “Even with a few secrets, a pal’s still a pal,” said Nendou. “Is it friendship to force him to reveal his secret? I’ll wait until you’re ready. Isn’t that what a real friend would do?”

            …Nendou said something that made sense?! thought everyone in shock.

            It sounded like what (Y/N) said…That my powers don’t change who I am.

            “I agree with you,” said Hairo, smiling at Nendou. “Secrets don’t necessarily mean there’s no trust. Some secrets stem out of care and consideration for others. Until he’s ready—”

            “I don’t get that,” said Kaidou.

            “There are some things you just aren’t ready to tell people yet,” said Yumehara, smiling.

            “You have to wait until you are,” said Teruhashi. She smiled at (Y/N), who smiled in return. That was, of course, what she had done. She had told Saiki about her old feelings when she was ready.

            “I’ll wait until you’re ready, too, Saiki,” said Kuboyasu.

            “Me too,” said Mera.

            “It doesn’t matter to me anyways,” said Saiko.

            “Then this topic is over,” said Yumehara.

            “Our friends are pretty great, aren’t they?” said (Y/N) softly, smiling at Saiki.

            “They are,” said Saiki. They would accept him no matter what. It was…nice to know that. In fact, it warmed his heart. He smiled. “Yare yare.” He looked at his friends. “You guys are such a handful.”

            (Y/N) covered their mouth and laughed. He wasn’t going to tell him, but, in his own way, he was saying something much more important—that he loved his friends. Saik smiled again as he held (Y/N) close.

            Oh, well. I can go back in time and disable the helicopter later.

            Saiki was going to enjoy this moment for as long as he could. It was, after all, the moment when time started to move forward again.

l

            “So, the volcano is handled. Our future is ahead of us,” said (Y/N), smiling as they sat on Saiki’s bed. He sat at his desk chair, staring at the drawer with the power suppressor within. “What is your plan?”

            “Kusuke will be disappointed that he can’t compete against me. Dad will complain about doing things on his own. Mom will be worried about me,” said Saiki.

            “But they all want you to make your own decisions,” said (Y/N).

            “Right.” Saiki stared at the suppressor, the difference between his current life and a normal one.

            “This is your life, Kusuo.” (Y/N) stepped towards him and took his face into their hands. “You get to live it how you want.”

            Saiki gazed at them, and he touched their hand with his own. Gently, he let go and picked up the suppressed. (Y/N) lowered their hands and watched him hold it.

            “I’m ready.” He lifted the suppressor. “Bye to my annoying powers. Well, maybe it did help a few times.” Saiki pushed the suppressor in. He waited, then he pulled off his old limiters.

            (Y/N) gazed at him. “How do you feel?”

            No different.

            (Y/N) frowned. “Kusuo, how do you feel?”

            Saiki paused. Could they not…hear him? “Can you take off your earrings?”

            (Y/N) started at hearing his voice, but they nodded and took off their earrings, pocketing them.

            Nothing. Saiki couldn’t hear a single thought from them. Hesitantly, he took off his glasses. He gazed at (Y/N). Again, nothing.

            They smiled. Saiki smiled back.

            No powers. He had no psychic powers.

            Saiki stood, pulled them closed, and kissed them with joy. (Y/N) laughed and kissed him back, pulling him by his shirt collar.

            “I love you,” said Saiki, aloud.

            “I love you, too,” said (Y/N). They loved him no matter what powers he had. They loved Saiki for who he was.

l

            “Those are cute earrings,” said Teruhashi. “Are they new?”

            (Y/N) smiled as they headed into school. “Kind of. I haven’t had the chance to wear them yet.” The dangly earrings of pink and white beads were cute and (Y/N) had been looking forward to wearing them, but without germanium, they hadn’t wanted Saiki to hear their thoughts. Now it wasn’t a problem. “And I wanted to start year 3 with a change of style, just have some fun, you know?”

            “Of course,” said Teruhashi, smiling. She touched her own ears, now pierced as well. “I decided to get my ears done finally, too. I’ve never worn much jewelry, but I think I like them.”

            “I like them. Simple and gold. Very nice for you,” said (Y/N).

            “Thanks,” said Teruhashi. She sighed. “My brother tried to get me diamond earrings and pearls and a lot of jewels, but I like these ones. Imu bought them for me when she saw I’d gone to the piercer.”

            Aw. (Y/N) smiled. “That’s sweet of her.”

            “Yeah,” said Teruhashi, smiling. She cleared her throat nervously and waved her hands. “A-Anyways, I wonder who’s in our class this year!”

            “I hope everyone we were friends with.” said (Y/N).

            “Me too,” said Teruhashi.

            “Minus Saiko,” said (Y/N) brightly.

            Teruhashi giggled as they walked into class.

            “Kusuo!” said (Y/N), immediately spotting him. “We’re in the same class again!”

            Saiki nodded. He hadn’t been able to influence it without his powers, but it seemed the world was on his side for once.

            “This is amazing,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “It’s nice,” said Saiki. He was still growing used to really speaking, but he liked talking to (Y/N). “I like your earrings.”

            (Y/N) grinned. “Thanks. I’m so excited to wear all of my new ones.”

            Saiki smiled slightly.

            (Y/N) gasped. “We should celebrate! Go out to the movies or for coffee jelly. It’ll just be the two of us.” No one else’s thoughts would even be an issue.

            Saiki nodded. “I would like that.” He always would.

            “Great.” (Y/N) smiled. “Meet after school, then?”

            Saiki nodded.

l

            “Alright, ready to go?” asked (Y/N), hoisting their bag over their shoulder.

            Saiki nodded. Let’s— “Let’s go.”

            They walked towards the door. Saiki froze as he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. It was a cockroach. Saiki’s eyes widened, and he jumped back.

            Crash!

            (Y/N) and Saiki stopped and looked at each other, eyes wide. Slowly, they turned towards the school window. The entire thing lay in shattered pieces on the floor.

            “…No way,” said (Y/N) and Saiki.

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[into-fiction]

gelphie - modern au

so! i did a poll like a week or so ago and model glinda/photographer elphie won in terms of modern aus you'd want to see. idk if I'll make a full fic but figured i'd give y'all a taste of the idea:

///

“Hey, Pfannee.” Elphaba lifts a hand in a casual wave as she enters the room, nodding her head to some of the other staff as she makes her way over to the young man. He brightens when he sees her, tottering over happily with his arms full of clothes. 

Typical Pfannee. 

“Elphaba, hey girl! Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?”

“I’ve got three minutes to spare, what do you mean?”

Pfannee laughs, awkwardly nudging his glasses back up his nose without dropping his load. Elphaba drifts further into the room, putting down her bag and sipping on her tea.

“So, I heard we’re working with someone new today,” she drawls. 

Beside her, Pfannee gasps. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

But Pfannee’s shocked expressions falls into something mischievous and he shakes his head. “Nope. Not going to ruin the surprise now. You’re going to die when you see her.”

Elphaba rolls her eyes. By the way he’s acting, this new model is likely someone famous. Or- famous to Pfannee at least. Elphaba doesn’t really keep up with anyone like that. Despite having chosen photography as her career, she tries to keep herself separate from the fashion industry at large. 

It’s incredibly toxic, and she’s seen what it can do to people. Case in point: 

“I can't believe I get to take her new measurements! Rumors say that she’s lost weight, and that means I’ll be the first to know her smallest size!” Pfannee grins like that’s a completely reasonable thing to say about an adult woman. 

Elphaba hides her frown behind another sip of tea. Most models don’t really have a lot of room to lose weight. If it’s enough to make a visible difference, especially since the woman’s last job, then she’s likely dropped a concerning amount in a very small time period. 

Elphaba spends the next blur of time discussing the shoot with the other photographers as well as the lighting crew, the hair and makeup artists, and Pfannee and his lackeys. They’re mostly set up and ready to go when a voice announces the model is on her way in, and everyone bustles around to prepare. 

Elphaba waits calmly, Pfannee nearly vibrating beside her. “Here she comes!” he says, just barely remembering in time not to physically shake Elphaba’s shoulders. 

A man enters first, stunningly dressed in a tailored navy suit with his chestnut hair swept back and his blue eyes sparkling. That’s sign number one. The second sign is the voice floating behind him, high and airy and delicate. Almost sing-songy. 

Ice floods through Elphaba’s veins. It stops her heart for several seconds before it kicks back on, three times faster than before. Dread twists in her stomach as she turns and eyes the doorway where a glimmer of pink and gold awaits her. 

It’s been years since she’s seen Glinda Upland. At least- in person that is. 

Glinda Upland, one of the highest-paid models in the country, is featured on enough billboards, magazines, ads, commercials, social media posts, and celebrity shows to make even the lowliest citizen feel like they personally know her. Her face is everywhere, and what a stunning face it is. 

Gorgeous and defined with flawless pale skin and dark chocolate eyes. Long lashes flutter as she blinks, and a single dimple carves into her cheek with every smile. America’s darling. Tiny, dazzling, desirable. 

And the woman Elphaba once loved.

[likelyamused]

A rush. Heat and cold all at once. Like smoldering under a spotlight and getting hit by the droplets of a cold shower. It seizes Max's body in a tense mess.

“Jason. What are you doing here?” Max struggles to regain control of himself. He still manages to keep his voice in check.

“Ah! Is this how you greet an old friend? Where are your manners?” He leans on the side to address Celia directly with a friendly smile. “Hi! I’m Jason. And you are?”

“I’m-” 

Max cuts her off, repositioning himself. “I asked you a question. What are you doing here?” 

Jason maintains eye contact with Max, but takes a step back. Max is not duped: it's to better pounce. He's testing out Max's reactions. He might have wanted to come across as friendly, but the tightness in his jaw and the slight squint betray him.

“I came to visit one of my cousins about two weeks ago and you cannot imagine my surprise to see you walk by as I was getting a smoke,” chuckles Jason. “I’ve been checking in with what you’ve been up to since then. Honestly, man, you lost your edge if you didn’t notice me on your trail for two weeks!” 

Max's face gets hot. Two weeks. He's been followed around for two weeks! His instinct did pick this up, but he was too… comfortable to make sense of it. He let Jason gather two weeks worth of knowledge he can now use to his advantage. What was he able to find out in that time?

“Must have been bored out of your mind.” Max says with a twitchy smirk.

Jason snorts. “It’s been what… six months?” He gives Max a playful thump against his shoulder. “Six months since you’ve disappeared and left us without saying goodbye. You can’t just leave like that, man. We had plans.”

“With how things ended on the last job, I thought it would be best for everyone if I just left. I’m sure you can carry on without me. I came here for a fresh start. I don’t want anything to do with that life anymore.” 

The back and forth in Jason's movements are making Max anxious.

“A fresh start? Is that so? A part-time job at Simsmart and living in a trailer are what you aspire to nowadays?”

Max’s breath catches in his throat. Jason’s going to spill out all of his secrets before he gets a chance to. He’ll spoil everything.

That’s not what’s important, though. Jason chose this moment to get himself known for a reason. Max needs his head clear.

“What if it is?”

“Have you been brainwashed?” Jason looks mockingly puzzled. “How can this be enough for you?”

“It’s a start.” Anger, waking from events that occurred months ago, resurfaces again. Jason always thought he knew best what Max needed, robbing him of the right to choose for himself. Max gets impatient. “What do you want, Jason?”

“You’re coming home with me.”

“No. I’m not.”

Jason chuckles again. 

“Tell me, Celia, what has my boy here shared with you, hmm?”

Max flinches at Celia’s name. She never told him. 

“Did he tell you about his parents? His grandmother, probably. Do you know what he did to afford food and stuff when his parents would blow their social aid cheques on booze every month?”

Celia’s face is an open book. Jason just needs to follow her expressions to know if he's hitting the mark.

“How about me? Did he ever talk about me? No! Then he certainly didn’t tell you about what we got into when shoplifting groceries became a lot of risks for too small a payout. Credit card fraud was pretty good, quick, but it lacked a bit of excitement for me. I enjoyed car theft much more. It's much more of a rush. Our boy here was always really smart about what we'd hit. Stirred us away from getting caught more than once.”

Celia’s eyes skip from Jason to Max, searching for a sign that this isn't true but not finding any.  

“Max got scared on our last job and fled. I knew it was out of his element, but he often needs a push in the right direction to do anything, ya know? Auto theft at gunpoint is a little more intense, but damn! We couldn’t miss out on that!” 

Max wants to scream “I told you I was against that idea! I never wanted to do it!”, but he holds his tongue. Jason had the habit of recording conversations. He couldn’t incriminate himself so easily. 

“Anyway, Max was always good at things that required more... stealth. He likes to observe, be sneaky, slide in, act quickly. I guess it came in handy here too.”  

Celia turns to Max, “What is he talking about?”

“Ah! Yes, Max, why don’t you tell her about the old man who leaves envelopes of money for you? What is it? Blackmail? Extortion?... A sugar daddy?”

Max grimaces, “Don’t be stupid!”

Jason hardens, “No, you are if you think either of them really cares about you. Look at her. See the disgust in her eyes from what she just heard about you.” 

Max keeps his stance slightly in front of Celia, but he can see her retreat from the corner of his eye. He fears Jason may be right. 

“Wait ‘til she learns that this old man is her grandfather! Oups!” 

Max snaps. He swings and knocks Jason's jaw. He shouldn’t have done it: Jason’s always been a better fighter than him. It’s too late now. Max moves forward to get another hit in, but Jason recovers enough to hold him and hits him in the diaphragm. Max folds over trying to catch his breath. 

When he gets up, Jason is hiding behind Celia, a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry you got caught in this, Celia. You seem like a good girl,” he says in her ear. 

Celia looks warily at Jason from the corner of her eye before turning her inquiring gaze toward Max. “Is any of this true?” 

Max heart drops. That’s when he notices Jason’s challenging stare. He’s like a dog with a bone: he won’t let go until he gets what he wants, and Celia stands in between. The hand, the apology... she won't get out of this unscathed. Max knows what to do. She’s better off without him anyway.

Max shuts off his emotions as best he can and turns a placid stare toward Celia. “Some… most. I was homeless when you met me. There’s no aunt. I'm currently living in a trailer on your grandfather’s property. I never told him about you and you about him, because… I was just trying to have some fun with you and secure a roof over my head, really.” He chuckles the last words out to hide that his voice was cracking.

Something breaks in Celia’s eyes: her light shatters and leaves sharp splinters aimed at Max’s heart.

“So you just used me… us?” Celia’s chin trembles.

Max can’t breathe. He hopes it doesn't show. “Yes.”

Jason makes a big show of letting go of Celia's shoulder. His eyes glimmer with pride, a familiar expression Max now sees in a different light. This has always been their dynamic, hasn't it? Jason pushes and pushes until the meanest, most vile things come out of him. A while ago, Max would have considered that as a recognition of kindred spirits. Today, he finally sees it for what it is: the satisfaction of having control over him.

“Good to know.” Celia walks away. As she passes beside Max, she turns to him, her voice both soft and searing  “Stay away from me, and from my grandfather.”

Max watches her leave with all he wanted to tell her stuck in his throat. What did he just do? Jason joins him with hands in his pockets.

“Max, Max, Max… You really fell hard for this girl. I could tell. Tsk! This is for your own good, and hers too. You two are not from the same world. It wouldn’t have worked. She'd never accept you for who you are, and you'd be stuck, like you always are. You know this, man. Don’t tell me you believed otherwise. Let’s get your things.”

“I’m not leaving with you.”

“Max, you lost the girl. And soon, you’ll lose the trailer too. It’s time to go.”

“Maybe. But I won’t leave with you. I wanted out, I got out and I’m staying out.”

Jason violently grabs Max by the jaw and pulls him up. 

“You owe me.”

“I think you were compensated enough when I disappeared without taking my share.”

Jason pushes Max and swings. Max barely evades his blow. He tackles him to the ground and gets a punch in.

Jason topples him over and takes the upper hand. Max takes a pounding, “Hurt me all you want, I’ll always hate you for forcing me into our last job and for destroying everything I built here. You won’t get anything else from me.”

Jason pushes his forearm on Max's throat and gets up. Max braces himself for a kick in the back, but it never comes. When he finally looks over his forearms, he sees Jason walking away with a smoke. Max sits up and tries to keep his heart from spilling out.

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