#but the thing is that its only worse for me

[dear-ao3]

friends, besties, worsties, davids, and meow meows of the jury. i have a tale for you. while i claim to be no bard (like saph, the queen of very long dramatic tumblr stories that make your heart weep), i must spin a wee bit of yarn in the form of a story. what story? a story of the green cake.

we shall, as most stories do, start almost at the beginning.

the date? january 2nd.

the time? late.

the occasion? saph comes home the third.

the problem? i have no butter or sugar.

now, saph's birthday was recently, so like any other best bud i said i was making a cake. i believe my exact words were 'i'm making you a cake whether you like it or not."

now, gang, i must level with you. this is the fourth cake i've made in my life. i am a reasonably good baker (i can bake a Mean Loaf of Bread), but i'm not a very experienced baker. 3/4 cakes were reasonably good, and only one was just slightly off. so, my track record is mixed, but i am hopeful.

now, let me take you to the present.

i am sitting at my dining room table, typing this post. i am wearing a shirt covered in flour, the green cake is in the oven.

how did i get here?

well, we won't go to the beginning. we've already seen what was basically the beginning, with me having no butter or sugar. the real story begins the morning of january 3rd. which is today. which is when saph comes home, expecting a green cake. as most reasonably well adjusted people do when their roommates parents are visiting, i stressed cleaned the entire apartment at 4am, after realizing the mice in my walls are fucking. i did not leave them a condom. i did not have one that would fit them. i can only hope they have plan b. so naturally, i went to bed at 6am.

and i still had no sugar or butter for the green cake for saph.

and i needed to get started on this cake before 10am, or saph would be here before it was finished.

and i went to bed at 6am. so naturally i set my 9:00, 9:02, 9:04, 9:06 alarms, and hoped i'd lock in when i woke up.

friends, i hate to admit it, but i did not lock in. nay, i slept through all of my alarms and woke up at roughly 9:45. it was cold, damp, and the mice were still probably fucking. i threw my hair into a messy bun, and ran downstairs, only to find my mom was selling me to one direction.

jk. it was far worse.

because saph said she had sent me something.

what did saph send me?

a full poster of david malukas! do i know why? no! but he lives in my kitchen now, providing me with mental support. thanks david!

so, i begin to make the cake after laughing for about 10 minutes about why david is now in my apartment. it starts off surprisingly well. i have not forgotten the salt.

everything is normal.

until i remember.

the cake needs to be green.

why? idk thats what saph said she wanted so i am just going to do what i was told to do and make this damn cake green.

but its now late in the process, and if there is one thing i have learned in all my years of watching the great british baking show with my mom, it is to never over beat your cake.

and my cake, right now, was perfect. trust me. i ate plenty of dough to know it was wonderful.

so now i am trying to figure out how to make the most perfect shade of nico rosberg green, feeling a bit like an alchemist. david malukas is staring me down. my time grows shorter and shorter with each beat.

and then, gang, i had to give up on this being nico rosberg green. i did not want to kill my cake. my green cake. my now mint-green cake that i am baking for saph. so naturally i'm like, okay, time to pour this.

easy, right?

WRONG.

so one thing to know about me is i suck at cutting things.

it's unfortunately a key ingredient in cake making that you have a stupid little circle on the bottom of your cake tins. i cut it the best i could. which was bad. so i'm already fighting demons trying to get the stupid parchment paper from sliding every which way, and then, my friends, i realized something horrible.

the batter had not mixed at the bottom. so now i was fighting even more demons and trying not to get loose flour in my cake.

i think i succeeded. only time will tell. david is watching. the cake is almost done.

i am setting the green cake free.

look upon him now, and weep. the green cake prevails! even though he doesn't look very green yet.

and now, for the hardest part. frosting.

let's see how that goes.

david still watches.

[steddiealltheway]

1984 is not Steve Harrington’s year.

Not only does he find out that his girlfriend doesn’t actually love him, but somehow the creepy monster thing that united his now ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend, came back in the form of some type of monster dog.

The highlight of his year might actually be befriending a nerdy middle schooler who introduced him to said monster dog - which he named Dart of all things... something to do with a candy bar.

He groans at the thought as the music from downstairs carries into his room. For some reason, Tommy Hagan decided to temporarily ignore the fact that he ditched Steve for the new keg king, Billy Hargrove, who managed to give Steve something else to worry about while literal Hell crawled its way into Hawkins, in favor of throwing a New Year's Eve party in the Harrington residence.

Typical for the year Steve's having. Why not end it horribly too?

He glances at the clock, relieved that it's already somewhat close to midnight. If it weren't for the noise, he would consider trying to sleep through this one. Instead, he lays back on his bed and hopes that no one tries to disturb him.

As if the universe can hear his thoughts, and then curse them, the door to his bedroom swings open.

Steve sits up with a huff and frowns at the person.

A guy with medium length curly hair and doe eyes stares back at him with a big smile that screams chaos.

"Sorry, dude," Steve says, "Bedroom is off limits. Go hookup, smoke, or whatever somewhere else."

Instead of leaving, the guy closes the door behind him and locks it.

Steve scoots back on the bed, hand reaching back to wrap around the nail bat he leaves behind his nightstand.

The dude raises his hands in mock surrender, silver rings glinting in the light streaming in from Steve's window - blinds open enough so he can make sure no one does anything weird in his pool. "Listen, man, I'm not here to hurt you or anything. Although you might hurt me when you hear why I'm here."

There's something about his voice that sounds familiar to Steve when it suddenly hits him - all the yelling and stomping around on tabletops. "You're Eddie Munson."

Eddie smiles and bows dramatically. "Guilty as charged."

Steve's frown deepens, and for a fleeting moment he thinks Dustin would really like the guy. "So, why would I hurt you if I hear you out?"

"Because, Steve," Eddie draws out his name as if it has a deeper meaning, "I was downstairs thinking about what a wonderful year I've had, and I decided that I might as well start the year with a little chaos."

Steve's grip tightens around the bat in case he's some sort of satanic serial killer or something, although his gut tells him that he shouldn't be scared of the man. "What do you mean by chaos?"

There's a strange glint in Eddie's eye when he shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on the feet as if he wants to move closer to Steve but has decided to plant himself by his door. "I mean... I came to this party to sell my supply and after my whole lunchbox was cleaned out, I started thinking about who I should kiss at midnight. Or more precisely, who would be the worse option, or rather, the option that would bring the most-"

"Chaos. Yeah, I got that part," Steve cuts him off.

Eddie's smile changes to something genuine for a moment as he comments, "Wow, Steve Harrington is actually listening to me."

Steve rolls his eyes, grip loosening on the bat. "I'd rather you not stand on my desk to get my attention." To Steve's surprise, Eddie actually laughs in response and pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to hide his smile. And to Steve's much greater surprise, his heart starts beating a little faster and he finds it harder to not smile back at him. "So, chaos?" Steve prompts.

"Right," Eddie says, rocking on his feet again, "Chaos." He ducks his head for a moment as if hyping himself up for the next thing he's going to say, which is when Steve entirely releases his grip on the bat, realizing that Eddie is more scared of him. "So, I thought, to start the year off with the most chaos, I would choose someone to kiss that would bring the most chaos. And I thought, why not the host of this party?"

Steve frowns. "Tommy's downstairs."

Eddie mirrors his frown. "You're not hosting?"

"Why would I be in my room if I'm hosting?"

"Why would the party be in your house if you're not hosting?"

It suddenly hits Steve. "Wait, you want to kiss me?"

Eddie takes a step back, hovering even closer to the door than he was before. "Consensually, of course."

It takes a moment for Steve to fully process what is being asked. "You think I'm the worst option to kiss?"

"That's what you're asking?" Eddie asks, trailing off to mutter something like, "The fragile ego of athletes, I swear."

"I got dumped this year. Of course my ego is low."

Eddie smiles bashfully. "Sorry, my uncle always tells me I'm not as quiet as I think I am." And there's something about Eddie's cheeks that are slightly flushed, the strand of hair he starts tugging at again, and the way he can't stop bouncing as if he's buzzing with energy and nerves that makes him so...

"Yes," Steve blurts out suddenly. For a moment, he wonders if the mindf- mind fly? mind... whatever evil thing from a few weeks ago has possessed him.

"Yes what?" Eddie asks sounding genuinely confused. As Steve stands up to look out his blinds and shut them, Eddie rambles, "Yes, I'm not as quiet as I think I am? Or yes, you're about to punch me, and I'm going to finally figure out how it felt when you got your face bashed in a few weeks ago?"

Steve rolls his eyes before holding up both of his hands, mimicking Eddie's pose when he first came into the room. "Yes, I'll kiss you."

It's as if Eddie has forgotten he's asked the question the way his jaw drops, and he stares at Steve like he's said the most confusing thing he's ever heard. Which... to be fair... is highly likely.

"You want to kiss me?"

Steve takes a small step closer to Eddie. "I want to give you your chaos."' When Eddie doesn't look convinced, Steve takes a step closer to him, hand running through his hair as he continues, "Who knows, maybe it'll give me good luck or something for next year by cancelling out the chaos from this year."

Eddie nods. "Okay. You're giving me your chaos. Yeah. That makes sense."

"And you're taking my chaos away," Steve agrees, trying to tell himself that this is a rational decision. "This makes sense."

"You're not going to beat me up?" Eddie asks, risking a small step away from the door.

Steve shakes his head. "Seems like a bad way to start the year, don't you think?"

Eddie nods as Steve steps closer to him, slowly, as if not to startle him away. "You know, I thought just asking you would be chaotic enough as is and then I could run away and pretend you hallucinated or something when you tried to beat me up."

"Should've asked Hargrove then," Steve says, cocking his head to the side. "Does that mean you don't actually want to kiss me?"

Eddie swallows and shakes his head. "I didn't say that."

Just as Steve gets in front of Eddie, he hears people downstairs counting down from ten. "Good," Steve says, "Because there isn't enough time to find someone else."

Eddie scoffs, the countdown now at eight, "That's not true for you."

"Maybe, but I'm not really looking to find anyone else right now. Are you?" Five.

Eddie smiles and takes a step forward. "No." Three.

Steve reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Eddie's ear. "Good." One.

Steve's not really sure who moves first or if they move together, but the yells of, "Happy New Year" are drowned out as Eddie's lips meet his in a kiss that feels more desperate than Steve expected. He's not sure why they're kissing as if the countdown was for the end of the world, but he really doesn't care.

It's only when Steve's gets a little carried away, Eddie's back slams against Steve's door with a thud that's loud enough to alert anyone that something's happening in Steve's room, that Steve breaks away with a gasp, seeking the air Eddie's stolen from him. He wonders if - hopes - it's the chaos he's taken.

"Happy New Year," Steve whispers, hands cupping Eddie's face while Eddie's are tangled in the mess he's made of Steve's hair. He's not sure when either of those things happened.

"Happy fucking New Year, Steve," Eddie mutters, hands slowly dropping from his hair.

Steve's hands hold onto Eddie's face a little tighter for a moment, and he sees the moment a bit of fear sparks in Eddie's eyes. Steve quickly shakes his head. "No, I'm not about to beat you up. It's just... I kind of slammed you against the door a little hard there, and if someone else is up here and they see you..."

"Chaos," Eddie fills in with a nod, "And not the good kind."

"Yeah," Steve sighs, "Not the good kind." He glances to his window where the blinds are firmly shut - thank you Jonathan for teaching him that lesson - and down at the locked doorknob before looking back at Eddie. He glances at his lips momentarily before blurting out, "Stay with me."

Eddie's jaw drops, mouth opening slightly in shock.

Steve steps back, hands reluctantly leaving Eddie's face. "Stay until everyone clears out at least. No ulterior motive."

Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets and moves back into Steve's space. "What if I want there to be an ulterior motive?" He tilts his head down and gives Steve a case of lethal puppy dog eyes. "Fully take your chaos away, remember?"

Steve is absolutely sure that this in no way will take away the chaos of his previous year and will likely only invite questions, confusion, and further chaos into 1985.

"Yeah, I remember," Steve says, pulling Eddie into another desperate kiss.

Maybe Eddie was onto something about starting the year with a little chaos. And maybe 1985 will be his year.

(i accidentally wrote a tiny epilogue later in the tags that i really like)

[mandalhoerian]

Repost because tumblr's tags were broken yesterday and it ate my post up 😞 Spoilers and translation notes for Rafayel's intertidal zone & analysis because it kinda floored me, I was just as a blank page as he was throughout this. I had to watch it like 5 times to understand what the story was saying and dig into chinese and japanese versions of this to piece together what was really happening. It may be my idiot brain not getting it and maybe it was like the easiest thing to understand for you but. Yeah. I may be just dumb LMFAO AND!!!! There's also a theory of mine into how Rafayel is actually able to read mc's mind/wishes through their lemurian bond, so stay tuned for that I guess

EDIT: correcting some transcriptions of chinese characters and the translations. sorry about that! google couldn't transcribe it correctly. for clarity's sake i will also include original screenshots. please tell me if anything is wrong!

EDIT 2: Check out part 2 to this as well for stuff I missed!

EDIT 3: An Abysswalker connection I found

So Rafayel’s whole deal in this memory, I believe, is dependency. Like, too much intensity, too much need, too much fear -- about scaring her off, about what he sees himself possibly becoming in the future, overall just being too reliant on mc and getting scared by it.

Let's begin with this massive fear of being a taker, not just in the “I’m stealing someone’s fries” way, but in this existential, soul-deep kind of way where he’s terrified of turning everything he loves into something he exploits out of demand for his art. And yeah, it’s sad when you first hear him say it, but it’s also really interesting when you look at how this all ties into his relationship with MC and his inspiration source drying up because of her.

Before Rafayel became an artist, he looked at the world in this super pure, wholesome way. Sceneries and nature were just there, things to admire and feel awe over without needing to do anything about it. Like, imagine standing at the edge of a desert, looking at a sea that’s drying up. Sure, it’s tragic, but it’s also kind of beautiful in a raw, heartbreaking way. That’s how Rafayel saw things, he could appreciate them without feeling like he had to do anything.

But then Rafayel started creating, and suddenly, sceneries weren’t just sceneries anymore. They became inspiration. He wasn’t just admiring beauty, he was extracting something from it, its meaning, its pain, its soul, to turn into art for other people. And that made him feel all kinds of icky, because now he wasn’t just looking at the drying sea. He was taking from it. Just as he's using his people's pain in his art as well, that's also a thing.

Now let’s talk about MC. Rafayel loves her like he used to love those sceneries,,, in this pure, untainted way. There's a parallel here. But here’s the kicker, he’s not the same guy who can just admire something and leave it untouched anymore.

And suddenly, this is no longer only about losing inspiration for him.

This happens after he and MC get together, and it’s like all the pain and anguish that used to fuel his creativity just.. ... dries up. He can’t find that spark anymore because now his life is surrounded by love instead of suffering. In fact, his inspiration starts coming from her and it's starting to clash with how he makes art. In the phone call, he seeks her out and says he needs her so bad and she only needs to talk to help him out. This is the first wink wink nod nod of the story.

So what does Rafayel do? He goes on this big, dramatic trip to "find inspiration" (or at least his muse), but it’s not just about his art. He’s not just looking for inspiration, he’s trying to figure out how to be less dependent on her and becoming increasingly more restless over this. The temparature and physical discomfort is making things worse, he's anxiously overthinking, and imagine trying to fight this and the longest art block as of late off when all you want to do is indulge in this special person and be comforted like a lap cat all day every day.

He understands that if he lets himself indulge without restraint, one day his love for mc will turn into pure need. He’ll become more and more greedy, and he doesn’t want that and is afraid of being abandoned because of that growing neediness and dependency.

This is in relation to his art, because as @/dat-silvers-girl put in the comments, he's struggling with "the genuine fear of not being able to enjoy anything in life because all you're thinking about how to use it (as an artist)" . what if he starts doing this to her? to their love and relationship? take from her, and become someone who only takes in every area of life -- like someone who only exploits things by extracting what he feels about them to use it for his art. he's afraid of that, he doesn't like that and possibly doesn't like himself who does it. so why should she? she would leave him for sure, in his head, that's a solid reason to.

The first time around he brings up his anxiety about MC leaving him out of the inner realization of his dependency, the possibility of just what he can become, and fear of abandonment. she effortlessly soothes his worries. It's heavily implied they did it afterwards and after hearing "her life has already been consumed by him" he tweaked out a little bit and his "obsession" seeped through.

After it fades to black, he says ほら……僕もとっくに……君に侵食されてしまっているんだ…… which means "See... I've already been completely consumed by you too" in Japanese instead of the life being made a chaotic mess localization. While I think MC's line was jokey and lighthearted, I don't think this man is joking at all. Rafayel didn't say his life was consumed by her as well, he said HE was consumed. Ouh.

This took the edge off from him for a while but they hadn't gotten to the root of the problem yet, so he was back to square one after the memorial hall, because remember, he's trying to find inspiration as an act of making this dependency of his better. Pain and suffering are all around him here, which his inspiration feeds off of. The dried up ocean he could hear weakening, the skeleton of the whale, the burden of his people and homeland more prominent than before. And what does MC do? Tear through the perspective of pain and introduce a hopeful alternative, "Isn't it a surprise to see an ocean in the middle of the desert?"

This is a place that gave Rafayel the height of helplessness and suffering when he visited by himself before despite momentarily being hopeful after the locals told him such a place existed. But now, she was there to comfort him through his loneliness and pain, hug him, and give him hope yet again. He brings up how he wanted to come here with the most important person to him when he was still hopeful about it before consumed by the pain of it all, and that wish has been granted. That moment has to be so powerful for Rafayel. Literally light at the end of the tunnel.

It had me reeling that he just sat in the car after all that, staring at her for god knows how long until she woke up. He was probably overthinking again, but my interpretation that it was heavily emotional for him (it could have meant so little for MC but the world for him, she doesn't even know) and he wanted to be in that moment with her, just feel and look without restraint. Indulge a little. (I can just imagine him going just a little bit more, I'll go after she wakes up.) And like. His eyes are shining in the darkness is the description here. Perhaps he was feeling so much here. So much love. So much happiness. And he's about to go in for a kiss (heavy breathing and everything) after that, but holds himself back and actively has to pry himself away. He's feeling the neediness again.

That’s why he makes an effort to actively wean himself off and says he'll be okay on his own. What he says to her after MC is like "spoiling him" being all "hey you're sick maybe don't go? or let's go together?" (which is NOT helping Rafayel at all) is even more meaningful in Japanese and I didn't know why they left out this context, but the rearranged line would be "Do you want me to become a sea creature beached on the sand after the sea recedes, unable to breathe on my own ever again?"

Yeah. YEAH. This is about dependency. (He's saying don't coddle me I'll literally become that wolf tearing his shirt meme 😭)

So of course his stubbornness and anxiety force him to do things without MC and distance himself, he can do it. He’s determined to prove to himself that he can endure it on his own.

I also feel like part of the reason he insisted on going to the salon alone is that he’s still worried mc might come to dislike the version of him who's someone he's so sure she will leave, who isn't perfect and he hides behind the persona he's put up just for her. If he truly becomes addicted to her and shows her everything/his true self, and she ends up leaving him, it would completely break him. He's trying to be like "im so normal about her haha" but he's so not normal about her at all. He's literally obsessed I feel like, and perhaps this is him fighting it knowing it's not healthy.

and OOOH about why he ends up coming back from the salon all hot and bothered.

I have strong context that she flicked the bean in there after he left her high and dry in the car ("hot water washes away the stickiness from my body and his stifled breaths still echo in my ears, enveloping me along with the steam in the bathroom. The warmth from his fingertips lingers in the places where he touched me..." is the english. however, in chinese, it goes "熱水洗去身上的黏膩，壓抑的喘息迴盪在我耳畔，和浴室裡氤氳的水氣一起包裹著我." stating "the suppressed breathing" -- which doesn't have any possessive adjectives when I translated it on google and later explicitly asked chatgpt if it had any his/my adjectives involved, just to be sure. it said no but i'd like it if a real chinese speaking person could give their input on this !!! PLEASE DONT LEAVE ME WITH CHATGPT

so um. if the context is in fact the case that he heard her masturbating to him, the intensity with which he attacked her would be normal, I think 😭

I have belief that MC unconsciously shatters his "training himself to be without her" determination through their bond. She just keeps thinking about him the entire time. about him reading her thoughts, though. we still don't know all about the lemurian bond they share. I’d say it grants him some sort of mind/heart reading ability or connects their minds together (when she was thinking about whether she should hug him, he answered “yes”).

At the salon, I imagine Rafayel was already thinking about her like crazy. Then he realized, or perhaps, "heard" she was still worrying about him and thinking of him (as much he thought about her) and decided to go back. Rafayel probably felt that suppressing himself was only making her more anxious and unsettled. She's thinking all about him, unconsciously calling to him to come to her, she didn't want to let him go at all, wanted to go with him, etc...

but even if it was his own decision and no mind reading was involved... uh. If you ask me. He did quite literally hear her after coming back. That's also something that might make him think she wants him as much as he wants her, which made his self-restraint utterly meaningless from the start.

Disregarding this theory of mine proven wrong until a Chinese speaker helps me out here, MC returned to Rafayel's room. A translation omission happened here from what I saw. There are no possessive adjectives in the Chinese text about the room she returns to, and the Japanese one states she returned to the guest room (doesn't specify which one. She was also able to enter Rafayel's room without needing to knock before.)

so uh. she went into rafayel's room y'all. the line "this is my room, you're the one who walked in here" MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE. (SO LIKE. NOT ONLY DID SHE GO INTO HIS ROOM, SHE FLICKED THE BEAN THERE AND HE POSSIBLY HEARD IT. SHE'S MORE OF A FREAK THAN HE IS, I UNDERSTAND WHY HE LET GO AFTER THAT LMFAO)

I don't put it past him to get worked up after he finds her in his room post-bath even without my theory lmfao (idk why they put her in a dress when she should be in a bathrobe or something 😭)

His conclusion at the end of this memory that "he finds inspiration in pain and the art of creation is a part of his life. mc made him realize love and art are so alike. even if they don't complete him but burn him instead he wants them (love and art) with every fiber of his being" and MC says she doesn't like that, rightfully so.

So like. There's SO MUCH to unpack in here.

When Rafayel says he finds inspiration in pain and that creation is a part of his life, he’s admitting something raw and essential about himself: pain isn’t just a byproduct of his art, it’s intrinsic to it. For Rafayel, pain and art are intertwined in a way that’s almost inseparable. It’s like his muse isn’t just beauty, but beauty that hurts.

But then he takes this further by connecting art to love. He’s realized that both art and love demand the same from him: vulnerability, passion, and sometimes suffering. They don’t necessarily complete him (he’s not romanticizing them as salvation), but they burn him, wear him down, consume him (coincidentally, this is something he said to MC in the JP dub of this memory, that she consumes him), but also give him life. And for Rafayel, that’s the crux, even if they burn him, he wants them with every fiber of his being.

This is such a Rafayel thing to say. It’s dramatic, it’s tortured, but it’s also deeply SUBTLE. He doesn't spell all of these out, mind you, I got a headache trying to understand him. Or I'm just slow, I don't know. It shows how much he values creation and connection, even if they come at a cost.

MC, on the other hand, challenges this perspective. When she says she doesn’t like that he views love and art as things that burn him, she’s pushing back against the idea that suffering is a necessary part of creation, or love. MC doesn’t want Rafayel to see their relationship as something that requires him to hurt. She’s telling him, “You don’t have to destroy yourself to love me.”

When MC says, “You’ll never have to burn for me,” she’s giving Rafayel an alternative to his destructive mindset. She’s saying that love doesn’t have to hurt, that their relationship can exist without him sacrificing himself on the altar of passion. It’s a refusal to let Rafayel romanticize pain as the price of love.

And I love that Rafayel goes, "Will you help me look for other parts in life outside of pain?" in response. This is NOT about art or inspiration anymore, and the way the dialogue is written is just AUGH. Again I had to rewatch this over and over again for the nuances and subtext.

I love MC's response, she knew exactly what to say. “I’ll always be the one who walks along the shore with you. Of course, diving into the sea bed is fine too. If it can snow in the desert, there will be a day when the ocean returns.”

MC’s response is layered with metaphors, but at its core, it’s about unwavering support and hope::

Walking along the shore: This represents safety and companionship. MC is saying she’ll be with Rafayel in the calm, in the moments where they’re just observing life without diving into its depths. She’ll be his steady presence, his grounding force.

Diving into the sea bed: This is an acknowledgment that life and love sometimes require going deeper and they may go through hardships, into the unknown, the murky, the challenging. MC isn’t afraid of this, she’s willing to go there with him too.

Snow in the desert and the ocean’s return: This is a symbol of hope and transformation beyond being a nod to The Sea of Golden Sand. Snow in the desert seems impossible, just like the idea of Rafayel finding inspiration outside of pain might feel impossible to him. But MC believes in the extraordinary, in change, and in the possibility that beauty and creation can exist outside of suffering.

Her words are a promise: she’s willing to stand by him, to face the unknown together, and to hold onto the belief that a new way of seeing the world is possible.

And Rafayel LOWKEY PROPOSES IN RETURN.

By saying “let’s watch the sea together,” he’s accepting MC’s offer of companionship and hope in the long run. He’s recognizing that life doesn’t have to be about diving into the depths alone, it can be about sharing the experience with someone else, even if it’s just standing on the shore and watching.

“Every sea”: This phrase is key. Rafayel isn’t just committing to one kind of life or one kind of inspiration, he’s opening himself up to all possibilities. Watching every sea means embracing all facets of life, whether they’re calm or turbulent, painful or beautiful. It’s a marriage proposal declaration that he’s ready to explore the world beyond pain, with MC by his side.

So. I love that his inspiration returns after his freak is accepted by MC because he literally feels the acceptance through the bond.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. This memory DRAINED me. They were just supposed to bang what the fuck happened. Why did I have to go treasure hunting to find what was going on in this card. anyway...

[revelboo]

your revel highness, if its not too much trouble could you spare some knockout or drift crumbs? only if you're up for it

Sure!

My Favorite Accident Pt 7

Knockout x Reader

• “You can’t just keep sneaking out. It’s being noticed,” Breakdown growls and Knockout huffs at his friend, sterilizing and putting his tools away. Because this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation. Knows Breakdown worries about him and the repercussions of him sneaking out just to drag race, but really? Lord Megatron is too busy amusing himself with tormenting that little human they snatched thinking it was important to the Autobots only to realize it wasn’t. Anything else he doesn’t have time for.

• “Aren’t I always careful?” He laughs, turning and tipping his head back as Breakdown frowns at down at him. “It’s just a little fun. You remember what that is?” Pointedly going around his bigger friend, he thinks about that cesspool he’d left you in. Plating crawling at the thought of ever returning there. Embarrassed for you that you work there and wondering how angry you’d be if he burns it down while you’re not there so you have to find a new job. Though, given your current one and that pit-forsaken hovel you live in, you’ll somehow find something worse just to spite him.

• “You’re just spending a lot of time with those little flesh bags,” Breakdown mutters and he vents guiltily. That’s what this is about. That he’s been out racing and lately, practicing alone with you instead of hanging out with Breakdown. Reach up to affectionately cuff the bigger mech on the chassis, he knows he needs to spend some time with Breakdown. But he also needs to check on you, make sure you got home okay. It’s not like he cares, but who is he going to race if you get yourself killed? That in mind, he heads out, aware of Breakdown frowning after him. Unhappy.

• Hoofing it back to the apartment since your ride ditched you, the only good thing is it’s dark now and you’re not baking in the sun at least. But you’re going to kick the hell out of Knockout’s stupid, shiny paint when you see him again. Who just leaves someone stranded? High maintenance alien jerks, apparently. Hair slicked to your forehead and neck with sweat, you see the headlights coming up behind you and move further off the road just as a car streaks by only to immediately slam on the brakes. Speak of the devil.

• On the side the road, he almost doesn’t recognize you, driving past before he catches you in his mirrors. Throwing himself in reverse with a snarl, he backs up and shifts on his shocks. “Why are you walking?” Primus, he knows you’re broke, but still. And you glare at him. Like this is his fault. Annoyed when you just keep walking, he follows.

• “I’m walking, because my ride ditched me.” And because you didn’t have anyone to call, but you’re not about to admit that. Not to him. “Go away before I key you.” It’s an empty threat and you both know it. Even if he seems to, well, not like you, but tolerate your existence, you’re pretty sure he’d stomp you if you tried. And he pops open a door, waving it in invitation. “Really? Cause I’m sweaty.” Door closing sharply, he just keeps passively rolling alongside you.

• What is he doing? Keeping his headlights out, Breakdown trails behind at a safe distance. Close enough to not lose Knockout, but too far away to hear whatever’s being said. But what he can tell? Knockout is talking to a little human walking by the side of the road. Sees his friend open a door for you then close it without you getting in as you throw up a hand at him. Who are you? And why is Knockout bothering with you?

Previous

[straightoutthehexcore]

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙖… 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩…?"

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧: Jayce Talis, Viktor

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: You're a tech designer tasked with assisting with designing and creating Hextech goods for Viktor and Jayce, and during a delirious frenzy (you crashed out) while designing, you thought of the logistics and design for something... new.

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: NSFW themes (mainly pegging, humiliation if you squint), AFAB reader

"Alright, as for design ideas, I only have one, and I'm going to ask you to please hear me out on this one..."

"Alright, let us see it."

"I uhh... are you... absolutely sure?"

"Why must you stall? Come, show us."

"...if you insist..."

𝙑𝙞𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨

"...this must be a gag, yes? I'll admit, this is intriguing."

He did not believe his fucking eyes. Using the hexcore as an energy source for... that? All he can say is that he definitely never thought about it.

He tried to play it off as a joke, sardonically commented on how vulgar it was, and after he realized it wasn't a joke, he looked at you and then looked back at Jayce, genuinely confused and not hiding his flushed face very well.

He pored over the blueprint and sketches, genuinely analyzing the design and the features of it, and had two immediate thoughts. 1) They took this... really seriously. Such depth to something so... trivial. 2) Not even in his dreams could he take that absolute MONSTER. But it was a blueprint, so things can change.

"Is... is there something you want to tell us...?

You tried to act business oriented but when you kept fumbling your words, it became increasingly obvious that you had zero idea what you were on about. The fact that Viktor stared dead into your eyes, watching you trip over your tongue, sure wasn't helping.

"It's a market rarely touched by other companies--" "it can aid in more funding for more important things-" "Bullshit."

Both you and Jayce looked at him, shocked at the profanity. Neither of you could tell if he was angry, flustered, or a little bit of both.

"You know you don't need an excuse, right? I'd much prefer forwardness, though this is... forward. In a different way, albeit."

"You think that's what this is about?" "I know what this is about, dear." "...very well." "That said...? Jayce, the final judgement is yours."

Viktor playing coy, everyone act surprised lmao

𝙅𝙖𝙮𝙘𝙚'𝙨 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨

"This is... what is this?"

While he looked at the sketches and initial blueprint with intent, he also tried to cover his face with it long after he read through everything. His face was insanely flushed, and he was worse at hiding it than Viktor.

Jayce was also utterly terrified by the size of the HexStrap, and that's part of the reason he got so flustered.

Started dissecting the materials listed down on sketches and trying to remain serious about the proposal, and Viktor looked at him like he was crazy because he was trying to seem actually, unironically serious, whilst failing miserably.

He was trying to back you up and make any excuse for its existence too, and it looked so pathetic to both you and Viktor (in an endearing way.)

"I mean they has a point with the... the sales aspect. Sure we have Councilor Medarda's funds, but it would still be beneficial to--"

At some point the knowing looks from both of you pierced through him. Viktor already called you out, but Jayce is still coping. He is coping hard. At some point, he gives up and leans forward in his seat and pinches the bridge of his nose.

It felt like he was deliberating more with himself and his conscience than he was with you or Viktor. He was, 100%.

He all in all accepted the proposal but for purely selfish reasons, as was made evident by the very visible boner and his hidden face. Teasing him would be too cruel and you were coming down from your own heightened anxiety, but God did you want to tease the crap out of him.

After that awkward session, Viktor did that job for you.

"Looking forward to... er... testing it, are we?" "I never said that, where did that come from--?" "Look at yourself." "Hey--"

Random idea I got, decided I'd add to the HexStrap discussion with how they would initially react to and come to accept the HexStrap :D

Thanks JayVik truthers, Rosey <3

[marvelousels]

oh fuck you! | 2

authors note — (if u wanna read pt 1 here) meh no one asked for a continuation but its my most liked post so im doing a lil part 2!! also i find it so difficult trying not to use y/n but i NEED to somehow use something to name the reader like...do u guys get me??

pairings: caitlyn x fem!reader

cry baby - the neighbourhood playing!

Caitlyn stood there, frozen, as if the rain had locked her in place. She couldn’t chase after you—not yet. Her feet refused to move, weighed down by guilt and the crushing weight of what she’d just let happen. Her hand lingered in the air where you had been, now clutching at nothing but cold, empty space.

The rain was relentless, soaking through her clothes and dripping from her lashes, but she barely felt it. The only thing she could feel was the absence of you. And, gods, it hurt more than any wound she’d ever endured.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of it all.

She wanted to go after you, to make you stay, but what could she even say now? Every word she’d tried had been a nail in the coffin. Every step closer to you had been a step closer to losing you for good. And the worst part? You were right.

You’d been there for her through everything. Every scraped knee, every sleepless night, every time she doubted herself or the weight of the Kiramman name. You were her anchor, her constant in a world that often felt like it was spinning out of control.

But Vi… Vi was a storm, unpredictable and wild. She was everything Caitlyn had never been allowed to be, and that scared her as much as it thrilled her. She was drawn to Vi like a moth to a flame, even though she knew it might burn her—and now, worse, you.

She finally managed to take a step forward, the puddle beneath her feet rippling as if mirroring the chaos inside her.

“Y/N!” she called out, her voice raw and desperate. “Please—don’t go!”

You didn’t stop, your figure disappearing into the misty haze of rain. Caitlyn felt her chest tighten, panic clawing at her throat. Was this it? Was this how it ended?

“Dammit,” she muttered, running a hand through her drenched hair. She didn’t care about the mud splashing onto her polished boots as she sprinted after you, her heart pounding louder than the rain.

When she finally caught up to you, she grabbed your arm—not harshly, but firmly enough to make you stop. You turned to her, tears streaming down your face, blending with the rain, and it shattered her all over again.

“Just listen,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m so sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough—because you are. You always have been.”

You pulled your arm away again, this time with less anger and more exhaustion. “Then why, Cait? Why do you keep doing this? Why do I feel like I’m always the second choice?”

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not second choice. You’re everything. I just… I don’t know how to make sense of all of this, and I hate myself for it.”

Her hands trembled at her sides as she looked into your eyes, her own brimming with tears. “But losing you? That’s the one thing I know I can’t survive. Please, Y/N, don’t let me screw this up. Don’t let me lose you.”

You hesitated, your lips parting as if to speak, but the words caught in your throat. For a moment, all that filled the space between you was the sound of the rain.

Then, quietly, you asked, “What do you want, Caitlyn? Right here, right now, what do you want?”

Caitlyn’s heart stuttered. She stepped even closer, her voice barely audible but unmistakably certain.

“You,” she said, her voice cracking. “I want you.”

The rain drummed steadily around you both, a symphony of chaos that somehow made the world feel still. Your eyes locked with hers, searching for any hesitation, any lingering doubt. But for once, Caitlyn’s gaze held only certainty—no broken compass, no wavering. Just you.

Her hand moved slowly, trembling as it reached up to cup your cheek. You didn’t pull away this time. Her touch was tentative, almost afraid you’d shatter beneath her fingers, but when you didn’t, her thumb gently brushed against your damp skin.

“Y/N…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain. It was laced with so much—apology, longing, love.

And then, she closed the distance.

Her lips found yours softly at first, almost hesitant, as if asking for permission. But when you didn’t resist—when you leaned into her instead—the hesitation melted away. The kiss deepened, urgent and raw, as though it could somehow undo all the hurt, all the unspoken words that had lingered between you for so long.

The world around you faded—the rain, the cold, the ache in your chest—all of it dissolved into the warmth of her lips, the way she poured every ounce of herself into the kiss. Her other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, as if she were afraid you might slip away again.

You finally broke apart, just enough to catch your breath, her forehead resting against yours. Both of you were panting, rainwater and tears mingling on your faces.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice hoarse but sincere. “For everything.”

You shook your head, your hands clutching at the lapels of her soaked jacket as if anchoring yourself. “Just… don’t make me regret this,” you murmured, your voice breaking slightly.

“I won’t,” Caitlyn promised, her voice firm now. “I swear, Y/N. No more doubts, no more running. Just you.”

And then, with a small, tentative smile breaking through the tears, you pulled her into another kiss, this one slower, softer, as if savoring the moment. For now, the storm didn’t matter.

All that mattered was this—her, you, and the fragile, beautiful hope blooming between you.

[astracora]

The Nightmare

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc

Warnings: Nightmare, spoilers for main story (Chapter 4), hurt/comfort

Word Count: 803

Written: 2nd January 2025

Notes: Established relationship Sylus/MC, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I had the mental image of wolf Sylus trying to devour mc, except his jaws never closed, so I ended up just throwing this out. Something something I earn a dime, something something capitalism, something something post fic on company time.

Masterlist AO3

You watch as the flames lick their way through what's left of the house. Eating its way through framework. Chewing and splintering shattered glass. If you look closely you can see a dragon. Horns twisted and broken, tail sharper than a scorpion sting. Claws gouging out the ground as it moves.

Closing your eyes doesn't stop the heat touching your cheeks, it doesn't make the image go away, so burned into your retinas you can see its shade against your eyelids.

The beast moves, uncaring of you, through the remains of what had been your home. Through memories you'd wanted to cherish more than you had.

To time you wished you'd not wasted.

It slips out from underneath you, the ground swallowing you whole, and as you look back up you see the bright red eyes spearing you. Wavering flame and scorched earth.

The fall isn't long, but the landing is hard. Knocking the air from your lungs, and sparks fill your vision. Rolling to your side, you force a hand to push you back up. It's colder here, there's no devouring beast, tearing your life from you. Instead just endless dark, snarled trees.

Unfamiliar forest that stretches past the edges of your mind. You are still alone, but despite the chill in your bones, this is a better place to be stuck… than on the edge of the abyss.

Your legs are unsteady when you stand, trembling steps pushing you forwards.

Whispers flicker out of the trees.

Alone.

Broken.

Worthless.

Stupid.

You turn, looking for the speaker, but the voices are different and there's no one lurking behind branches.

You think you recognise them, the calls. Familiar, intimate, but they're twisted. Believing that the voices would call you such things… It feels worse than the flames licking your skin.

Moving forwards is the only option available to you. If you stop, if you stall… your terrified mind thinks you might slip back into the ground. Too scared to know what else will be waiting for you.

A growl ripples through the trees, turning to a snarl. You step forward, ready to run, but ice crawls up your leg. Freezing your skin, pulling you to your knees. Stumbling until you're on your knees. Your lone hand stabilises you before that too is encased in ice.

A huge white wolf stalks out, molten eyes and dripping canines. It approaches you, sniffing like you're its next meal.

Judging by the way its tongue lolls out, to pass over the skin of your neck, you might be.

You want to close your eyes again, escape, be anywhere else, but it keeps you captive. Jaws open, and you try to pull away but its head is too big.

The heat of its breath against your skin, the dripping saliva on your neck as it closes around you.

Of all the ways to die, you didn't think it would be a beast in the forest.

Your heart, likely, maybe a wanderer's sword… you'd take the unlikely dream of it being in your sleep, at an old age, in the arms of those you love.

Instead, it will be a creature, as beautiful as it is dangerous, devouring you in a forest where no one will ever find whatever is left of you.

As the fangs dig into your skin, blood trickling, soaking into your clothes… you wait for the snap.

"Kitten."

Shaking.

"Beloved, come on."

Heat against your face.

"Wake up."

You gasp, lurching forwards. Falling into the heat of a familiar embrace. The scent of Sylus, wrapping around you, the feeling of his lips pressing to your neck. Over where the wolf fang's still sting.

Hand clasping at his hair, tangling in silver locks.

"You're safe, I'm here." He hums into your neck. Easing the ache in your chest, the heart that thunders too quickly to be safe. It is home. Eased with the chaotic beat of his against yours. "Breathe, kitten." His thumb rubs constant pressure into the back of your neck.

When your heart settles, and the fear skitters back to recesses, you pull away enough to bump his forehead with yours. Peering in at jewel-like eyes, painted in concern, but a hearth of comfort. The beasts in your nightmares disappear, hand placed on their brow, easing them back, lowering their hackles.

It is not a nightmare that waits for you when you wake, it is a warm bed, warm arms, and gentle affection.

A drink is placed on the side table, steam rising from hot milk and honey, another kiss is pressed into your head, and your eyes drift closed.

You're safe.

You're home.

There are no beasts here. No monsters to hurt you…

And when you wake up, you will greet the love of those around you, and find comfort in warm arms.

[kaynanarie]

Eyes of Gold (Part 9)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (First) (Prev)

            “I think it’s just up ahead!”

            The trees lining the trail were starting to thin out, more sunlight streaming in where the forest ended. Excitement tingled your fingers and lightened your feet. An hour of walking had finally led you to the edge of your home.

            You rushed down the path, pulling Shihou by the hand. He let himself be dragged along, easily keeping pace despite the heavy basket he carried for you.

            “Slow down, the village isn’t going anywhere,” he chuckled. As the last of the trees fell away and the sky broke through, you both slowed to a stop.

            Where the Monkey King’s domain ended, so did the forest. The wall of emerald greens came to an abrupt break at the foot of Fruit and Flower Mountain. Beyond it was a sparce field dotted with thorny brambles and spindly trees stripped bare by winter. A single, winding path led from the mountain down to the village nestled in the valley.

            “There it is!” you breathed, tears welling up at the sight. Everything looked so tiny but familiar; you couldn’t wait to see it up close again.

            “This is as far as I go, then.” Shihou set the basket down and unfolded a heavy mantle stored inside. “Put this on. Once you cross over, it’ll be winter weather the rest of the way.”

            You nodded, pulling the cloak over your robes. The fabric was thick and warm, making you sweat in the summery heat. It was only made worse when Shihou hoisted the basket onto to your own back. While the fruits inside were invaluable, their combined weight was nothing to scoff at.

            After the last of the straps were secured, Shihou laid a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, unable to hide the concern in his gaze.

            “I’ll be fine,” you assured him, grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Just a quick visit to the elder so she knows I’m safe. Then I’ll drop off the fruit and leave before my sister finds out.”

            Shihou didn’t seem convinced but nodded all the same. “One more thing.” He grasped your hand and held it out before you. Plucking a hair from his head, he quickly tied it around your wrist like a bracelet. It was thin, nearly invisible; only seen when light glinted off its golden-brown sheen.

            You raised a brow at him, biting back a confused smile. “Thank you?”

            “Just a little piece of me to carry with you,” Shihou explained, one hand sliding up to brush your forearm. “It’ll keep you safe when I’m not around.”

            Shihou had fussed and fretted for days following the wolves’ attack. Personally changing your bandages and checking for infection, he insisting you postpone your village visit until your wounds fully healed. Even after the scratches had faded to barely-there marks, you frequently caught Shihou staring; a haunted, regretful look dulling the brilliant gold.

            A moment passed as he continued to hold your hand, fingers caressing soft and sweet over your skin. It was like when he comforted you after the attack, cuddling you close and lulling you to sleep in his embrace. The memory burned through you and flushed your face with embarrassment.

            You kept reminding yourself it was innocent; just kind reassurance for a friend in need. Shihou was a perfect gentleman the whole time and didn’t impose you in the following evenings. Part of you wanted to invited him back, knowing he would accept in a heartbeat. The other part held yourself in check, wanting to sort through your flurry of feelings first.

            Shihou’s voice broke through your yearnful thoughts. “Are you ready?” You met his curious gaze only to quickly look away, blushing bright red when you saw him smirk out of the corner of your eye.

            “Yep!” you squeaked out, hiding your burning face with a nod.

            “What time will you be back?” he asked, giving your cloak a final adjustment. It sounded casual but there was a subtle reminder hidden in his question.

            “I need to return by sundown.” You glanced at the sky, calculating the journey to and from your village against the daylight left. “But it shouldn’t take that long.”

            Shihou smiled, all soft fur and gilded eyes that set your heart aflutter. “Alright. I’ll be waiting right here.” He backed away, fingers reluctant to release their gentle touch. “See you soon.”

            With a final, bashful nod, you turned away and marched over the boundary of the demon mountain.

            The shift from pleasant summer to icy winter left you dizzy and shivering. White puffs poured from your mouth with every breath. Your fingers, toes, and nose started to go numb, nipped by the chilling wind. Tugging your cloak closer, you set a brisk pace towards the village.

            You don’t know how long it took but you were exhausted when you finally arrived. The basket seemed to get heavier with every step, throwing you off balanced as you hurried between the buildings. As much as you wanted to visit home, the threat of your sister was still too real to tempt. Instead, you took the longer route through the village, sticking to secluded paths and empty alleys. Soon, you arrived at the elder’s door, knocking with a weary, shivering hand.

            Elder Gran was one of the most respected members of the village for both her wisdom and compassion. Many times, she had brought issues and grievances to your father on the villagers’ behalf. When your sister took over as the new overseeing noble, the elder had been less than impressed, criticizing her decisions without fear of retaliation. If there was anyone you could still trust in the village, it was Elder Gran.

            She looked quite surprised to find you on her doorstep, dressed in strange clothes and carrying a wicker pack. “You’ve returned! Everyone thought you dead! Quick, come inside out of the cold!”

            You were ushered in and bundled by the fire, your basket removed and set aside. A blanket was thrown over your shoulders and a warm drink pressed into your hands as Elder Gran tutted and chastised your frozen state. Finally, she sat as well and pinned you with a hard stare. “How did you survive the mountain, child?”

            And so, you told her everything. Getting lost immediately after your banishment. Meeting a strange monkey named Shihou. Discovering the source of your rash was poison ivy. Being cured and offered a safe place to stay. Hearing the Monkey King himself had invited you as his guest raised the elder’s brows to her hairline but she said nothing, only nodding along with your story. Finally, you opened the basket and showed Elder Gran the fruits inside.

            “Sun Wukong said I could bring these for the villagers. I trust you to give them to those in need.”

            “It’s been many years since the Monkey King allowed the fruits of the mountain to be shared,” Elder Gran pondered, eyeing the food suspiciously. “What does he expect in return?”

            “He asked for nothing,” you said, latching the lid close. “He also said if the village needed anything else, he would do what he could to help.”

            The elder shook her head in disbelief. “That’s quite generous of him. The village has struggled under your sister’s rule but it’s nothing we can’t handle. If things become dire, I shall keep the Monkey King’s offer in mind.”

            “Thank you.” You stood, handing back the blanket and empty mug with a grateful smile. “Now I must go before my sister discovers me and does something extreme.”

            “You don’t plan to stay in the village?” the elder gasped, clutching your robe as you turned to leave.

            “No, I promised to return to the mountain,” you explained, patting her hand in comfort. “I hope to visit again soon and bring more food to see you through winter. Until then, take care.”

            Giving Elder Gran a final hug, you slip out the door and out of sight. Immediately, you missed the warmth of the hearth as you traced you way back out of the village. The sun was starting to set when you reached the field again, time moving much faster than you had anticipated.

            You raced down the path, wind whipping your face and cold burning your lungs. As the light grew dimmer, the green of the forest grew closer. Soon, you could see the invisible border and Shihou waiting just on the other side. In a final burst of speed, you launched yourself over the boundary just as the last rays of the sun dropped over the horizon.

            Shihou caught you in his arms, holding you close as you recovered your breath. Between his warmth and the balmy breeze of the jungle, the chill of the winter you left behind quickly melted away.

            “Made it!” you panted, giving Shihou a triumphant grin. He only shook his head in bemusement, smiling softly to himself.

            “Welcome back. Was the running leap really necessary?” he teased, setting you back on your feet.

            “I promised I’d be back before sundown,” you said, glancing at the evening sky. “I don’t know why but it seemed important.”

            Shihou tilted his head with a smile. “Maybe because you can’t see in the dark?”

            “Oh.” The obvious and mundane answer made you blush. “I guess that makes sense,” you muttered.

            “Lucky for you, I can see just fine.” Shihou grabbed your hand, gold eyes glowing in the growing darkness. “Just stay by my side.”

            Feeling bold, you laced your fingers with his, the burn of your blush reaching all the way down to your toes. You couldn’t see Shihou’s face but felt him startle at the touch. After a moment he relaxed, pulling you closer by your clasped hands as he led the way through the night.

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

I almost made this two small chapters but figured one big one would be better. Enjoy some village lore and more Shihou feelings.

Thank you for reading! Happy New Year!

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter five: A Dance of Silence

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

The days that followed were quieter than usual, and you weren’t sure if that made things better or worse. The silence between you had become a language of its own, one you both spoke fluently. When you passed him in the hall, neither of you said a word. When he sat at the table for his rare meals, you kept your distance.

But somehow, despite the space between you, there was an unspoken understanding that things weren’t as they seemed. He wasn’t the cold, unfeeling man you’d pegged him for in the beginning. And you… you weren’t sure who you were anymore.

It was on the third night after that strange, almost tender exchange by the window when you found yourself standing at the end of the hallway, your hand hovering over the doorknob to his office. You didn’t know why you were here, why you were so drawn to the quiet, dimly lit space beyond. Maybe it was the soft music playing or the glow of the fireplace seeping beneath the door.

The door clicked open with a soft sound, and you stepped inside before you could second-guess yourself.

The room was as cold and sterile as ever, lit only by the faint glow of the fireplace. The warmth that filled the space was comforting, a strange contrast to the otherwise lifeless atmosphere. It was organized, too organized, nothing out of place. But it was the desk in the center of the room that caught your eye. Papers scattered haphazardly across the surface, as though someone had been interrupted in the middle of something important.

You reached for the papers, your curiosity getting the best of you, when a soft cough startled you.

You spun around, your heart leaping into your throat, to find the Frontman standing in the doorway, his mask already in his hand. He hadn’t made a sound as he approached, and for a moment, you saw something almost… human in his eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

You quickly set the papers down, feeling the sharp sting of guilt. “I-”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone low, but there was an unmistakable edge to it that you hadn’t heard before.

For a long time, neither of you moved. It was as though the world outside the room didn’t exist. Just the two of you, standing in the dim light, caught in a fragile moment of raw vulnerability.

“Why do you keep pushing me away?” you asked before you could stop yourself. The question slipped out unbidden, but the moment the words left your mouth, you realized how long you’d been holding them in.

His expression didn’t shift for a moment. He just stared at you, as though weighing your words carefully. Then, finally, he exhaled and answered, “Because I don’t know how to do this.”

“And you think I do?” you asked, genuine curiosity bleeding into your voice.

His shoulders tensed, the muscles in his neck tightening as if he was trying to hold back something, something he wasn’t ready to release. Then he moved across the room, to the black leather couch at the far side.

He sat down, taking a glass of whisky from the small bar by the wall, his movements deliberate, almost mechanical. You stood frozen in place, unsure of whether to follow him or not. Finally, he looked back over his shoulder, locking eyes with you.

“Sit,” he said, his voice almost gentle, yet commanding in its own way.

You hesitated for a moment, but something in his gaze tugged at you. You walked over, sat down beside him on the couch, the distance between you still palpable but shrinking.

He took a sip of his drink, eyes fixed ahead, the firelight casting flickering shadows across his maskless face. It was always a strange thing—seeing him without his mask, even if only for a moment. His face was unremarkable in its sharpness, but there was something in the way his brow furrowed, something raw in his expression that made you feel exposed.

The silence stretched on, and it was becoming increasingly unbearable. You shifted on the couch, trying to find the right words. But he beat you to it.

“You want to know why I push you away?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure how to phrase the question anymore.

He glanced at you briefly, his eyes tired. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with someone like you.”

Your brow furrowed at the words, your pulse quickening in confusion. “Someone like me?”

He sighed, a short, bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Someone who doesn’t fit into all of this,” he motioned around the room vaguely, as if referring to the whole situation, the compound, the games, everything. “You don’t belong here. And I don’t know how to make you understand that.”

The words hung heavy in the air between you. You felt your chest tighten, but you refused to look away. “Then why don’t you let me go?”

He turned to you, his gaze sharp, and for a moment, it was as though he was considering it. But then he exhaled, setting his glass down on the side table with a soft clink.

“Because I can’t,” he said quietly.

The vulnerability in his voice shocked you. There was something so honest in those few words that it left you breathless.

“So we’re both stuck,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“Seems that way,” he replied. There was a pause, and then he added, “I never asked for any of this either.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, something unexpected rising in your chest. “You never did, did you?” You leaned back slightly, your gaze flickering to the fire. “You think I wanted to be here, in this place, with you? I didn’t ask for it either.”

His gaze softened, just for a moment, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though the walls between you were beginning to crack. But before you could say anything else, he stood, the moment lost as quickly as it had come.

“You should get some rest,” he said, his tone shifting back to the detached coldness you were becoming all too familiar with.

You nodded, trying to ignore the disappointment that surged in your chest. He wasn’t ready. Neither of you were.

As he walked toward the door, you called out quietly, “You don’t have to push me away, you know.”

He paused, just for a beat, but didn’t turn around. “I’m not sure I know any other way,” he said, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

With that, the door closed behind him, and you were left sitting alone in the quiet of the room, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

———————

Chapter 5!! Yippee!

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[literarystarfish]

Love it when a character doesn’t show their pain or that they are dangerously close to their body’s breaking point.

Be it because:

they’re scared of someone else’s reaction

or they’ve been trained to ‘shut up about stupid little things like that’/‘work through it or else I’ll really give you something painful to whine about’

or they believe the mission is more important than their health

or they’re just stoic

or they refuse to show weakness because they think they need to be tough to be useful.

Because when whatever-it-is-that-they-are-hiding inevitably comes to light (only after getting so SO much worse because they didn’t care for themself, of course) the shock and vulnerability and desperation is sooo much better.

“I-I’m a-alright. P-promise…” “You can’t even stand up!”

“I think somethings wrong with— Did they just pass out?!?!!”

“But the mission!” “You’re hurt! Screw the mission!” “I-I’m f-fine! Don’t … don’t worry about me. Just… we have to finish the m-m-mis-mission.. it…it’s all that matters!”

“If you need help we can—” “No! I’m … I’m fine… Just… just let me do it.” “We don’t want you to hurt yourself even m—” “I’m FINE!”

“You’re burning up! Where did this fever come from so suddenly?! Come on. Let’s get you in a cool bath……. Is that a wound?! It’s infected! How long have you had this?!”

“What’s that on your clothes?……. Blood?! You’re bleeding!!” “It’s-it’s nothing…” “Nothing?! You need stitches!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” “B-because… you’d be mad at me for whining over something so small…” “What?! No! You need to take care of this! Let me help you.” “You… you don’t need to go through all th-this trouble for me….” “Its not trouble! I’d be glad to help you. Don’t ever hide something like this again! You could have hurt yourself even worse if you just left it like this!”

“I… I can.. I can keep going… I s-swear…” “You look like you’re about to drop any minute!” “I’m… I’m always tired…” “Not like this you’re not. What’s wrong?” “Nothing…”

[pinkskiessss]

LACY - chapter 3

Warnings: Language

Paige Bueckers x oc

A/N: Last chapter for tonight :)

Laylas perspective

The silence in the car felt heavy, to say the least. Layla couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different tonight between them. She wasn’t sure if it was the late hour, the strange turn of events, or the quiet, palpable tension between her and Paige. They had only really talked today, but now, being alone in the car with Paige, Layla felt oddly aware of every small movement Paige made—how her fingers held on the steering wheel, how her blue eyes flicked to Layla every so often.

“So, have you eaten yet?” Paige’s voice broke the silence, a casual question that was somehow comforting.

Layla glanced at her phone again, checking the time. “It’s 1 AM, Paige. What’s even open?”

Paige laughed lightly, her eyes glancing at Layla before focusing back on the road. “Fair. But I was thinking we could cook something. It’s not like we have anything else to do bro.” As if it’s not 1 AM.

Layla stiffened slightly at the suggestion. She liked things a certain way, and cooking this late wasn’t exactly part of her usual routine. Her apartment was always neat and organized—everything in its place. The thought of being in someone else’s space, cooking at this hour, was a little unsettling. But Paige’s easygoing tone made it seem like no big deal. “You want to cook at 1 AM?” Layla asked, her voice a little more hesitant than she intended.

Paige shrugged, her fingers still tapping on the wheel. “Why not? We’re not getting any sleep tonight anyway. Plus, I don’t know about you, but I’m literally starving.”

Layla bit her lip, glancing out the window. She wasn’t exactly hungry, but the idea of disappointing Paige seemed worse. “I guess you’re right. I could eat something.”

Paige pulled into the parking lot of her own dorm building, and Layla felt a knot of uncertainty in her stomach. She had never been to Paige’s dorm before, after all, they didn’t like eachother less than 48 hours ago. The building was quiet, and Layla’s mind raced as she tried to prepare herself for whatever might come next. She wasn’t exactly used to being so… spontaneous. Her life had always been a bit more controlled, predictable.

“Ready to cook?” Paige asked, her voice light, as she turned off the engine and smiled at Layla.

Layla nodded, trying to shake off the unease. “Yeah, sure.”

They walked into Paige’s building, and Layla couldn’t help but notice how relaxed the place felt. Paige led her down the hall to her apartment, and Layla’s eyes flicked to the slightly messy pr boxes on the floor and some scattered shoes by the door. It wasn’t dirty, but it was definitely different from her own meticulously organized space. Layla felt her shoulders tense as they stepped inside.

“Oh sorry about the mess, I know it kind of looks like a frat house in here,” Paige said with a grin, her voice a little high. “Morgan and KK are asleep in their rooms, so it’s just us tonight.”

“No worries,” Layla said, trying to sound casual as she followed Paige into the living room. “I’m just glad to be anywhere but the gym right now. I definitely stayed to long my body hurts.”

Paige laughed and gestured toward the couch. “Trust me I know.”

Layla sank into the cushions, feeling slightly out of place but trying not to show it. She tucked her legs underneath her, her mind still racing as she tried to adjust to the laid-back vibe of the room. Paige moved toward the kitchen, pulling out ingredients from the fridge with practiced ease.

“So, what are we making? Or you I guess, are you sure you don’t need any help?” Layla asked.

Paige turned around, holding up a frozen pizza with a grin. “Easy enough. I’m not exactly a chef, but I can make this work.”

Layla blinked, surprised. “Frozen pizza at 1 AM? That’s your big plan?”

Paige laughed, her voice light and unbothered. “Sorry, we don’t exactly have much options. We always DoorDash.”

“It’s okay don’t worry I’m not picky,” Layla responded back.

Paige set the pizza in the oven, the two of them both on the couch now. Layla sat back, her legs tucked underneath her, her arms crossed as she watched Paige flick through the TV channels. The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—just different. Layla couldn’t shake the feeling that something was building, something she couldn’t quite explain.

“So, what do you want to watch? We have to be kinda of quiet because they’re sleeping. ” Paige asked, her voice breaking the silence.

Layla shrugged, “How about Don’t Worry Darling?”

Paige glanced at her, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as she moved impossibly closer to the girl. “Really? You’re just picking that because of Harry Styles, aren’t you?”

Layla laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Okay, fine, yes. He’s hot. But Florence Pugh is in it too. She’s amazing.”

Paige’s smile softened, but her eyes twinkled as she laughed. “I’m gay, Layla. I don’t really care about Harry Styles, or any guys matter a fact.”

Layla froze for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn’t expected Paige to just say it like that, so casually. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable in a way she wasn’t prepared for. But she couldn’t back out now.

Layla laughed nervously, trying to brush off the tension. “Okay, okay. But Florence Pugh is in it, too. She’s incredible.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “She’s not really my type, though.”

Layla blinked, caught off guard. “What? How? She’s so pretty. What even is your type?”

Paige’s gaze flicked to the TV, her fingers tapping against the armrest. Layla could feel the tension between them, but Paige didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did, but she was trying to ignore it.

“I don’t know,” Paige said making eye contact, her voice quieter. “I guess I just… don’t really have a type. I don’t know”

Layla’s heart skipped a beat, and she found herself staring at Paige back, wanting to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. She wanted to ask, to press her, but the moment felt fragile. Instead, she looked away, her thoughts a jumble of confusion.

Before long, the pizza was ready, and they ate in comfortable silence. Layla’s body felt tense, her mind spinning with thoughts she couldn’t quite grasp. It was like there was a pull between them, something that she couldn’t explain, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She wasn’t sure what to make of it.

When the movie ended, Layla felt her eyelids grow heavy. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the couch, but before she knew it, her head was resting in Paige’s lap. Paige’s fingers gently stroked her hair, and Layla’s heart raced at the contact. She told herself it was nothing, just a friendly gesture. But the warmth of Paige’s hand, the way her body felt so close, was making it hard to think clearly.

They lay like that for a while, wrapped up in the quiet of the apartment, the soft rhythm of Paige’s breathing lulling Layla to sleep. She didn’t know what any of this meant, but she knew that being here, with Paige, felt… good. And that scared her more than anything.

[moonmaiden1996]

Bound By Fate Chapter 14

Warning- SMUT 18+

The night after the kiss, everything changed. Shanks’ lips still haunted you—searing, possessive—and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his presence lingering in the air. It marked you, in ways you hadn’t expected. The fire inside you, ignited by that single touch, refused to die. It burned brighter with each passing moment, but the ache, the hunger, was something more. It wasn’t just desire; it was a desperate, gnawing need for him, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape it.

This was supposed to be the part of the story where a romantic gesture or a fleeting glance would build toward some grand declaration of love, where you and Shanks would ride off into the sunset, caught up in some sappy fairytale nonsense that made hearts flutter. But that wasn’t your relationship. From the very first moment, when you’d been whisked away against your will, your bond had never been wrapped up in sweet gestures or empty romanticism. It was raw, real, built on pure emotion. And now, for the first time, you were acutely aware of just how much those emotions were pulling you toward him.

It wasn’t just the ache of longing. It was guilt. Guilt that you couldn’t seem to control yourself, guilt that you’d made things complicated for him, guilt that you needed him this much. But above all, it was helplessness—the knowledge that he had become a part of you, something you couldn’t tear yourself away from, no matter how hard you tried.

Even in the quiet of your quarters, where you’d expected to find refuge, the tension never seemed to ease. When your hands wander in the dead of night it was never enough. Your pussy pulsed, the wetness coating your thighs, the slick heat building within you that let you fingers plunge easily into your core never brought the satisfaction you craved. The release was hollow—a cruel echo of what you imagined Shanks could give you. A release that threatened to shatter you completely, but one you couldn’t stop yourself from chasing. It was torment you couldn’t avoid.

But you needed to tell him. You needed to confess this unbearable weight, this ache inside you, but he was always surrounded by the crew—laughing, talking, lost in their camaraderie. Even when he lounged lazily in his hammock, there was always someone nearby. Always someone between you. And every time your eyes met his across the room, the intensity in his gaze only made the ache in your chest worse, sharper, more unbearable.

That was when you saw him—his red hair catching the sunlight as he walked toward the little lagoon. It was separated from the open sea by a wall of coral, the perfect place to cool off and escape the heat of the day. And there he was, heading toward it, completely alone. The sight of him was too much. You couldn’t wait any longer; this might be your only chance to talk without the eyes of the crew watching.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him. "Miss me that much, love?" Shanks teased, his voice light and playful, as his red hair flopped into his eyes. He glanced up at you, a charming grin on his face as he rolled the neck of a bottle in his hand.

But when his eyes met yours, the humor faded. He saw the tremble in your body, the unevenness of your breath, the glassiness of your eyes. Without a word, he tossed the bottle aside, his large hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. He leaned down slightly to meet your eyes, his expression softening, concern clear in his gaze.

"What’s wrong, love?" His voice, usually so confident, was now a tender whisper that cut through you like a knife.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, the words breaking as they escaped your lips. “I’m a horrible person.” The floodgates opened, and a tear traced its way down your cheek, burning hot against your skin.

"Hush now." He pulled you into his chest, wrapping you in the warmth of his embrace. His lips brushed the top of your head in a kiss that felt like a promise, and the simple act of holding you seemed to settle the storm within you, even if just for a moment. "What makes you say that?" he murmured, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your arm, soothing you.

"I feel it. The pull... it gnaws at me, Shanks. It hurts—so much." Your voice cracked as the words spilled out in a broken whisper. "If this is what you’ve felt all this time... I’m so sorry."

Shanks’ embrace tightened around you, pulling you closer as he placed another soft kiss on the top of your head. “I’d endure that pain for a lifetime if it meant I got to spend even a second with you—even if you’re scowling at me.”

You let out a soft, choked laugh, the sound muffled against his chest. "Please, Shanks," you whispered, the trembling in your voice betraying the weight of your emotions.

"Just wait till I see Mihawk," he said with a playful edge, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "I’lll never let him live it down that he practically had to maul his woman while all I had to do was kiss you."

"Shanks!" You pulled back from him, glaring up at him, but the blush creeping up your neck gave you away.

He chuckled, the sound warm and deep, vibrating through his chest. "Hush, love." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a husky murmur that brushed against your skin. “I love you.”

Without thinking, you whispered back, the words barely audible, but they carried the weight of everything you’d been holding inside. “I love you too.”

At that moment, the world seemed to stop. Time paused. And then, his lips descended onto yours, but this wasn’t just a playful kiss—it was a promise. His hands gripped you tightly, anchoring you to him, his body pressing firmly against yours. The hunger in the kiss was raw, unrelenting, and possessive. His tongue swept into your mouth, claiming you completely.

This wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything. A rush of overwhelming emotion. A claim. A bond deeper than anything you’d ever known. His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as if afraid you might slip away. The kiss deepened, and you let him take you, fully, without hesitation.

For once, there was no distance between you. No fear. Just the two of you, lost in the storm of desire you’d both been holding at bay for far too long.

Your knees buckled, and Shanks caught you effortlessly, a low chuckle vibrating against your lips as he held you upright.

“Easy now,” he teased, his grin mischievous. “We’ve got all the time in the world for this, love. No need to rush.”

Shanks pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. His grin was lazy, smug even, as though he knew exactly how much power he held over you. And then, with an unmistakable gleam of mischief in his darkened eyes, he straightened up and said, “Well, love, I think it’s time we find somewhere a little more… secluded.”

Before you could even process what he meant, his strong arm was suddenly around your waist. With an effortless swing, he hoisted you over his shoulder as though you weighed nothing. His one arm tightened around your thighs, pinning you securely in place while your world spun upside down.

“Shanks!” you gasped, your fists pounding lightly against his back, though the laughter in your voice betrayed your indignation. “Put me down!”

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he chuckled, his voice rich with amusement. “You’re mine now, and I’m not about to let anyone else interrupt us.”

You tried to wriggle free, but his grip didn’t falter for a second. Instead, he began walking purposefully away from the lagoon, his long strides taking you deeper into the dense, tropical foliage that surrounded the crew’s camp. The sounds of the waves faded behind you, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the occasional birdcall.

“I can walk, you know,” you protested, though secretly, the feel of his hand gripping you and the steady sway of his movements sent a thrill down your spine.

“I know,” he replied, smirking as he gave your rear a playful slap. “But this way’s more fun—for me, at least.”

“Shanks!” you squealed, heat rushing to your cheeks as you felt his deep laughter rumble through his body.

You tried to squirm free, but his hold was unwavering. There was no use resisting as he carried you away from the lagoon and the rest of the crew. As he walked, you caught sight of the men lounging on the beach, their voices carried by the breeze. They were too caught up in their own revelry to notice you being whisked away.

Shanks took you swiftly toward his ship, the Red Force, anchored in the little cavern. The crew were still down by the water, but the ship was quiet, peaceful—a perfect escape. When you arrived at the gangplank, he didn’t stop. Without a word, he climbed up onto the deck, his boots thumping lightly as he walked across the wooden planks, and took you straight into the captain’s cabin.

The moment you entered, he kicked the door shut behind him with a soft thud, the sound of the world beyond vanishing. The cabin was warm and dim, lit by the golden glow of lanterns swaying with the motion of the ship. The scent of salt and wood filled the air. It felt intimate, isolated—just the two of you.

Shanks set you gently down on his bed, his hand lingering at your waist for just a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back. 

“Comfortable?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he slowly unbuckled his coat.

You nodded, your heart racing, the air between you crackled with tension, charged with a silent promise as you watched him removed and tossed his coat aside and moved toward you, his steps slow and deliberate. 

‘’Your cabin seriously?’’ you giggled.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted this. How long I’ve wanted you. I want every part of this cabin to ooze with you” he purred as he sank to his knees in front of you. His gaze was soft but intense, searching for something in your eyes, something that made your heart beat even faster.

You swallowed, your mouth dry. “Shanks…”

“Tell me, love,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. “Do you feel it too?”

Your breath caught in your throat. There was no denying the pull, the magnetic force between you that had been growing ever since that first kiss. It was undeniable. And now, in the seclusion of his captain’s cabin, it felt like everything had led to this moment.

“I do,” you whispered, unable to look away from him.

His lips quirked into a satisfied smirk. “Good,” he murmured, and before you could process it, he had closed the distance between you. His lips crashed against yours with a hunger you hadn’t expected, his hands sliding behind your back to pull you closer.

For a moment, you were lost in him—his warmth, the intoxicating scent of him, the feel of his body against yours. It was everything you had dreamed of and more, but this time, there would be no pulling away. No interruptions. No distractions.

As the kiss deepened, Shanks lifted you effortlessly in his arm curled around you lifting you further back on the bed. The weight of him, his strength, his determination—it was all consuming.

“Shanks…” you breathed, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

Shanks's voice was a low, tantalizing whisper, his breath warm against your ear. His words sent a shiver down your spine, each syllable heavy with meaning, each pause stretching the tension between you. He pulled back slightly, his crimson eyes studying you with a mixture of hunger and something darker—a promise, something that went far beyond desire.

“Do you remember what I said when I kissed you?” His voice was a velvet thread, pulling you in closer, making your pulse race. “That I was starving for you, that I’d be devouring you when the time came, but all you needed to do was beg.”

Your body seemed to pulse with the memory of that first kiss, the one that had set everything in motion. Your heart skipped, a storm of thoughts swirling inside your head, but the only thing that mattered was him—the man who’d claimed your lips, your soul, and had you on the edge of madness.

“Please Shanks…please” you whispered, your breath shaky, eyes locked on his. You didn’t dare look away, the magnetic pull between you too strong.

“Good,” Shanks murmured, his voice rougher now, almost a growl. “Because I think that time has come, love.”

Shanks pushed you back gently, guiding you onto the bed with an easy strength. His hand was steady, his movements deliberate as he hovered over you for just a moment, watching you with eyes that smoldered with an intensity.

You rested on your elbow, looking down at him, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His face was inches from yours, his lips slightly parted, his expression a perfect mix of hunger and possessiveness. His hand moved swiftly to your shirt, his fingers nimble, working the buttons with a practiced precision that had your breath hitching.

Each button came undone one by one, the fabric slipping from your shoulders, revealing more of your skin. Shanks’s eyes followed the material as it fell away, his gaze never leaving you as if he were savoring the moment. His fingers were delicate yet insistent, brushing against your skin in a way that made your pulse race, sending shivers through you as the cool air of the cabin met the warmth of your exposed flesh.

When your shirt was completely unfastened, he slid it off your arms with a quiet efficiency, his hands grazing your skin as the fabric left your body. Shanks kneeled between your legs, his eyes locked on yours as his hands moved to your waist. His fingers brushed lightly over the fabric of your skirts, teasing the edge of them, his smirk deepening as he took his time, rough fingertips roaming the expanse of your calf parting your legs a little bit wider to accommodate his frame. His gaze flicked to yours once more, and the quiet intensity of it had your breath catching in your throat as his hand slowly made its way up to your waist, untying your skirts till you were bare before him. Your glistening pussy in front of him.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire as his eye devoured your body.

He didn’t touch you right away, not in the way you expected, but instead paused to gaze down at you, as though committing the moment to memory.

‘’Gods I have barely touched you and you are already soaked for me. Tell me, love,” he whispered, his voice husky, “are you ready for me to devour you now?”

The weight of his question hung between you. You wanted this, wanted him, more than anything.

All you could do was nod, your breath ragged as his hand continued to roam, tracing every inch of your skin. The anticipation was maddening, but you didn’t want it to stop. You wanted him to take his time, to explore every part of you.

He smiled that dangerous, all-knowing smile of his, as he settled down onto his knees before his lips finally descended onto the skin of your ankle kissing the way up your body, sending your world into a spiral of heat and desire. You watched powerless to resist as he kissed his way up your legs, licking and nipping at each section of skin. A strangled cry choked its ways out of you as he laid open mouthed kisses into your trembling thighs. His arm wrapped around your thigh pulling you down, holding you in place, wedging his other shoulder against the other thigh prying open your trembling legs.

You knew it was coming but it didn't stop the gasp of surprise from gushing out of you. A delicate cry poured from you as his tongue drove into your folds swirling around your clit. The feel of his tongue plunging into your core was overwhelming, too much, but you were too weak to want to escape such a sinful feeling.

His tongue was searching, alternating between circles, swirls, shapes and flicks till he found an action that brought about a cry of pleasure that made you arch of the bed gripping the bed sheets. Shanks smirked into your pussy, as he repeated the action again, and again, and again. As you became a bubbling mess beneath him. His own moan began as your thighs closed around his head, pulling him to you.

‘’Sha… Shanks’’

Shanks growled at the sound of his name falling from your lips. From now on, he would have you call his name like that at least once a day. Another groan pushed its way out of your throat as his fingers traced the opening.

“Gods Shanks” your body curled into itself as he plunged his finger into your arching core. His digit searched your channel. Exploring and stretching, watching every reaction.as his 

‘’Damn your tight.’’ His eyes never left your glistening pussy as he plunged in and out of you marvelling at how curing how snugly you gripped at him. He kept his rhythm steady, as he worked into you till his finger hit that bundle of nerves he had desperately been searching for. Your whole body shuddered, and a flood of ecstasy rushed through your veins.

Shanks moaned inbetween furious licks as his fingers plunged swiftly in and out of her, hitting that spot again and again.

Your body stiffened in the bliss that built in the pit of your stomach, threatening to burst in you. Shanks suckled on your clit as he pumped his fingers into you, curling them into your spot, as his tongue continued an assault on your clit.

The whimpers grew into cries and the cries into shrieks of ecstasy. Shanks was in rapture as he watched your body quiver trembled as your orgasm broke through you. A mewling moan filled the room as your body twitched as wave after wave engulfed you. 

Shanks was in heaven between your thighs and was lapping at your core till the last of the tremors subsided, you lay weightless against the bed. 

‘’Delicious darling, I could eat you everyday’’ Shanks licked his glisten lips. ‘’In fact I think I will’’ he grinned at your blissed out form. Pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his muscle tanned torso. Unbuckling his belt, casting out his trousers aside. Smirking as your attention had settled between his thighs were proudly, his swollen cock throbbing between his legs. 

‘’Like what you see?’’ Shanks smirked as he pumped himself loosely. He was thick and hot; in his own hand, you were amazed at how reactive he was, how his chest juddered and a stifled moan caught in his throat. ‘’Don’t worry you’ll like it even more when it's buried in you,’’ he grinned as he kneeled over you.

The head of his cock dragged sinfully down your core before lining up against you. The first stretch barely got him through the first inch. Shank stilled and ran his hand down your side, lifting your other leg to wrap around his hip, opening you further. Shanks placed soft kisses up the column of your throat, whispering soothing words as he inched himself further. Shanks slid in a few more inches as he cursed at the tightness as he was fully seated inside your warm pussy. An electric shock travelled through you as you felt the spark ignite against you.

‘’So thick…fuck’’ you moaned.

Shanks immediately pulled back and then slowly slid forward again.

You all but screamed as you felt Shanks push back into you, your hands slipped to his ass as you dug your fingers into his plush flesh. Above you, Shanks grunted and groaned as your tight pussy clenched around. His hips languidly drew in and out of you.

The feeling was nothing like you had ever encountered; it was slow and steady but dragged the most pleasant feeling from you. In the pit of your stomach a coil tightening as Shanks slowly moved in and out of you.

Shanks bites back a moan as your tight walls pulled him back in at every movement. The feeling was intense. More than he had ever felt before. Your walls quivered and shuddered beneath him as he set a slow, unforgiving pace. With each thrust, his balls trembled at the feeling and spurred him on toward his orgasm, ignoring the need to slam into you, there would be time for that later when he had your head buried in the pillow as he pounded you from behind. 

You felt the build; tightening tighter and tighter ready to snap as Shank’s piston, his hips against you, his thick body grinding against your clit. The orgasm hit you out of nowhere, slammed into you as you screamed into the cabin, feeling pulsed through you Shanks grunted as you pussy tightened around him, holding him like a vice. A primitive roar pulled itself from his lips as he pushed into you again, growling as he leant back to watch his thick cock plunged in and out of you. The pace had gone from agonisingly slow to brutal and rough; the bundle of nerves he had previously discovered was now at the forefront of his assault; every push of his hips left him juddering against them as he thrust in and out you erratically. 

Shanks released a thundering howl that cut through the room as he came inside you, his cock swelling as spurt after spurt coated your pussy. Shanks tensed as you clamped down on him fluttering round him.

‘’Fuck what are you doing to me,’’ another spasm tore though you, your hips working down his member till its grip grew so tight that you could barely move.

The sounds that surged from Shanks were obscene, animalistic. His forearm shook as he struggled to keep himself upright as you spasmed around him. He collapsed over you, his stubble scratching the sensitive skin over your neck. With the last of his strength he flipped your. Dick deep in you you straddled him, staring down as he bucked against you as your pussy massaged spurt after spurt from him. 

‘’God damn darlin, your pussy is divine. I think I actually left my body.’’ he purred his eye open slightly.‘’And damn your a vision, all fucked and full of me still.’’ 

You gave a breathy moan as his chuckle tugged at your core as another wave of pleasure surged within you. 

‘’Fuckkkkkk’’ The pirate groaned as you both shared another wave of a lessening peak that left you a moaning mess. 

‘’God, you really are my perfect little darling. Who would have thought you would be the one to claim me. You truly are made for me.’’ he panted ‘’Come here’’ he huffed, pulling you into his chest, holding you as the last waves of pleasure subsided from your body. Both you contented in the bond wrapped around you.

Soooooo what do you think??? Shanks in bed is very hard to write...despite the amount of time I have fantasied about that man

If you loved this series please check out the next part of the series on Law X Reader Pull of Pollen.

Sanji x Reader coming soon*

[kurczeno]

ok so first of all - i agree on everything except the minrathous thing. Sort of.

The choice IS bullshit, because by helping Treviso you help the Crows (which I think is something u missed - the fact that he is a GOOD crow, bcs crows are now good which is a fucking joke) but also they don’t have an army, one of a few things VG got right. So they need your help more.

but by missed i dont mean to criticize - for me its just another thing i hate about him. That they want us to like the first talon’s grandchild, as if the previous games didn’t paint a detailed enough picture of the Crows. good, he didnt have to go through what others did - i wonder why?

The lack of personality is hilarious. I swear, he mentions coffee in EVERY conversation and I think that Lucanis is actually a warning - he’s what happens if you let millenials write a game. Seriously, I like my man like I like my coffee - fucking dead. Also tbh every single Crow in the game (even tho I hate what they did with the guild) is more interesting.

Spite is even worse than the Crows - it absolutely shits on what being an abomination meant in the previous games (anders was floppy, but it was still interesting and consequential. Besides it made some sense, if we compare him to Wynne) and makes a demon behave like a fucking 10 year old? Well, at least he has more personality than Lucanis, but shit, go back, please. + as you said, it affects nothing. Spite is there to be a hot, little quirk, nothing more. Remember when we had mages loose their mind, because of a demon? Our assassin is above that, I guess.

And yes, the Neve romance is just so bad. I mean honestly, if it was more like Isa/Fenris I’d kinda like it, because that’d be about sex. But I can’t imagine her carrying a conversation with this man for too long.

(although as for fenris - he has too many outcomes and they didn’t want to bother with our choices. Also the game’s too bland for him - they didn’t even want to risk making Minrathous racist, so having someone as complicated as Fenris would be a no no. Plus they wouldn’t be able to write him)

(plus who’d look at any man when neve is right there. the only companion that matters. davrins cool tho)

And while we're at it, why is Lucanis even a thing?

He has no personality other than that he likes coffee. The only way to romance him is to blight Minrathous and give it to the Venatori.

He got hired to kill a God, and he misses TWICE. And the second time it costs us a companion.

He wasn't picked as a sacrifice option, because he is so replaceable. Nobody would notice if he wasn't there.

We could've had Fenris instead and he would've been a great fit.

Lucanis is bound to a demon, and they build it up as a big deal (because it has been a huge deal with other characters) but then it doesn't go anywhere. He tells you he's going to separate from or stay with Spite and that's that.

?????????

He's a bad fit for Neve. He's a terrible assassin. And if I were even remotely attracted to men Davrin is right there. He's got the jaw line. He's got the hair. He's got the griffon.

And you're all pining for that wet wash cloth instead.

[s-nebul0sa]

Lena injures herself in the lab and requires stitches. Kara gets the call and goes into a worried frenzy and rushes to Lena’s side. As Kara dotes on her as Lena gets the stitches, Lena plays it off that it’s just a scratch and child’s play and starts brainstorming new tech for instances that requires stitches. Typical genius CEO and golden retriever gal story with fluff and romance 😄

Stitches

(Read below or on AO3)

The pain does not immediately register. The erlenmeyer flask that was in Lena’s hand just a moment ago has exploded into at least a hundred pieces. One of which liked Lena’s hand so much that it want to be inside it.

Flabbergasted, Lena stares at the offending piece of glass jutting out from her skin. Red welling up along its edges and slowly forming rivers down, dripping on the floor to mix with the solution that was previously contained inside the flask.

Shit.

At least there does not seem to be any glass in her face or anywhere else in her body. Her hand has a few small scrapes but those are just flesh wounds. Instinctively, Lena lifts her hand so it’s at head-height and both above her heart and her elbow, a trick used to slow down bleeding.

With practiced eyes, Lena scans the laboratory for any other glass pieces that might pose a future risk. There are some dangerous materials stored here, and though they should be locked away in safety boxes, it would not be the first time that someone made a mistake and left something out.

She does not notice anything that should not be out. Most of the glass is on the floor, either having hit nothing or having hit the hard wall and work bench and made their way down from there. Nothing to worry about.

Well, except that one piece stuck in her hand.

And now that she has determined there are no other threats, she starts to worry about herself. Lena never does well when she worries about herself.

With trembling hands, she wrestles with the end of her lab coat to get her phone out of her jean pocket. She almost loses, but determination wins. With her left thumb hovering over the screen, Lena thinks of what to do. This is not a 911 situation. There is just a little blood, not a lot. And it is not that bad.

Part of her just wants to fix it herself. Drive herself to a doctor or even just stitch up herself. But for the latter, she has neither the skill nor the steady hand at the moment. And the former seems like a very bad idea with only one hand functional and the other having glass sticking out of it. If she were to make one wrong move, the glass might be pushed further into her hand and do even more damage. Lena breathes out deeply.

Okay, first things first.

She tests her right hand. Carefully, she tries moving each finger and seeing if she can still feel them. They all seem to function as well as can be expected, so that is a relief. Hopefully no really deep damage. Or nerve damage, the worst kind.

With that settled, she focusses back on her phone. Debating for a minute whether she should worry her girlfriend, she ends up deciding Kara will be even more worried – or worse, hurt – if she does not call her immediately.

She pulls up Kara’s contact information and presses dial, then clamps the phone between her ear and shoulder. Lena walks over to the sink as she waits for Kara to pick up.

Kara answers quickly. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m okay but can you come pick me up and fly me to the DEO or the emergency room?” Lena asks casually, as she slowly takes off her lab coat. Thankfully, the piece in her hand is not so big that her hand no longer fits through her sleeve.

“What?!” Lena hears the worry in Kara’s voice through the phone followed by the telltale whoosh of Kara taking off in flight.

“I may have gotten slightly cut in the lab and probably need some stitches but it’s nothing life threatening,” Lena says in an attempt to take away Kara’s worry. Not that she feels like it is working. Lena turns back to the sink and cautiously washes her hands, carefully applying soap and hissing as it stings in the cut.

“Lab left or right?” Kara asks as Lena picks up that the wind has stopped ringing in Kara’s microphone. She must have landed.

“Left, but wait outside. I’m just going to finish washing my hands and I’ll meet you there.”

She hardly gets a chance to get some paper towels to dry her skin before the laboratory door flies open.

“Wait outside?!” Lena hears Kara yell both through the phone and the open door.

Lena looks up at her girlfriend, worry etched in her eyes. The crinkle between her brows even more pronounced than when Lena beat her at chess that one time.

“Yes, wait outside. This is a lab, Kara,” Lena scolds, but she cannot keep it up for long and walks to the safety of the superhero.

“Lena, that looks painful,” Kara points out when she notices the glass in Lena’s hand.

“That is why you need to fly me to someone who can fix it,” Lena responds, locking the door behind her when they leave. She will have to get her spill cleaned up later. She was not working with anything dangerous today so the biggest risk is posed by the broken glass and it is Friday evening and her personal lab so she has plenty of time to make sure it is cleaned up. Nobody is allowed in there without her explicit permission anyway.

(The whole story was too long, so the second half is in my next reblog.)

[revelboo]

While theyre all connected, the idw are in different time placements. Current ironhide hasn’t watch the video yet. also sparkling as a nickname and the way he treats his ward is so, hnng. Something about an older man treating his younger partner as a kid even when theyre very much, theyre an adult. I eat that dynamic so much. Optimus gives me the vibes with bluestreak, maybeee sideswipe, to sparkbond just because of love (op & blue) and taboo (sideswipe for the sparkplay and thrill, rip sunny). The latter is giving major oops sparked the human vibes, but honestly the number one likely to spark up their human is prowl. Jazz is 50/50 depends on his state of mind and is content with just having his human next to him even if he wants more and more. Wheeljack is slow burn and rip to his human. If this idw is unicorn and the millitary a thing or that its own thing?

The joints are ridiculously stiff and brittle on the gold editions. Pretty, but trying to pose them feels like they might break

Explanations/ Random Headcanons

The message has gone out at this point, but Prowl and Ironhide haven’t watched it yet. Ironhide couldn’t care less about any lies Megatron tells. Prowl will watch it because it’s intel and then be horrified. As far as he knows, he’s the only one that’s gotten ‘deviant’ with a human and like the rest of the Autobots, he assumes the worst with the Decepticon kept humans. Wheeljack is too awkward to really make a move with his. Blue’s too shy. Jazz definitely isn’t shy. Sideswipe… yeah, he’s going to be a worse gremlin now that he knows what’s possible. For Ironhide, he’s older and is going to treat reader more like a kid until he starts getting to know them. And probably after that, too.

For sparking, they have to combine interfacing and sparkplay at the same time between a fully bonded pair (this is just my take for the sake of my fics), so as long they’re experimenting with one or the other or the bond isn’t complete, they’re safe. The fact that it’s taboo, though makes it more enticing since they don’t realize there can be repercussions. Assuming, like Star and TFP Megs did, that there’s nothing to spark bond to, so they can just have the euphoric feel of someone touching their spark without any consequences.

What’s I’m calling ‘IDW’ is inspired by the characterizations from the comics since they got a bit more fleshed out, but also the G1 cartoons. It’s an AU I’m creating using bits of each. Pretty much both sides had crashed on earth a long time ago, but only recently came online and started scouting for resources. They’re aware of each other on Earth, but aside from a few small skirmishes, the war’s not in full swing again yet as both sides try to hoard energon and materials they’ll need once the fighting really starts. The military hasn’t discovered them yet since they just snatch any humans that see them and otherwise are laying low. Haven’t decided about Unicron, yet.

I do take liberties with timelines. In the pieces I’m lumping under ‘Lost Light’ on the Masterlist. Those fics all happen around the same time, but might be characters from IDW’s MTMTE or RID arcs with liberties taken. Flywheels was already gone from the Scavengers. Tarn and the DJD aren’t aware that the war is over yet or that Megatron has defected. Sunder is on the Lost Light already after being captured for his murders, but Pharma is still harvesting T-cogs for Tarn and hasn’t reencountered Ratchet or unleashed his rust plague out of desperation. Ambulon and First Aid are on Delphi with him in that fic and unaware of his activities.

I also tend to sidestep some events. Breakdown needs to live for what I have planned for him and Knockout.

But yeah, this is just the nonsense way my brain works, so don’t take anything too seriously since I just write for fun

[yandere-daydreams]

no the ai overview is the worst thing ever created actually. i try to do one (1) little self-help tech support. "how to X but NO Y"

AI overview:

in order to X, use Y...

im just like. can you. CAN YOU. CAN YOUR AI FUCKING READ GOOGLE. CAN IT READ WORDS. WHAT DO THOSE WORDS FUCKING SAY. IT HAS NEVER BEEN USEFUL, A SIGNLE TIME, EVER. even when it's RIGHT i have to keep searching to confirm bc it's so unreliable.

i want it gone so goddamn badly. this is how they get us. this is how we die. its gonna be 2.99 (monthly subscription ofc) to remove the ai overview and that'll only be the beginning... the sponsored results on google have already gone to shit years ago...

you get me,,,, i kind of understand why the elon musk dick riders are hyper about misinformation, the death of creativity, the rapid degradation of our environment, etc. but i simply don't comprehend how people can be, like, completely passive about being forced to use tools that actively make a daily experience quantifiably worse. i look forward to fucking our robot overlords after they gain full sentience as much as the next guy, but that'll be after they've stopped regurgitating info off of reddit. until that happens i'm stuck tagging everything i search with -ai for the foreseeable future.