#can i just make clear that this would be wildly different if it was just my general opinion on them as protags...

[084392]

my personal pokemon protags ratings based solely. SOLELY. on the quality of their official names. NOTHING ELSE

[arosnowflake]

[Timmy Turner voice] I wish every Links Meet AU that uses Marin as a phantom to haunt and traumatize Link goes to hell no matter what

[apollos-boyfriend]

so my younger cousin is flying in to visit from brazil on sunday, and will be staying here for like, the entirety of july. which, don't get me wrong, is super cool! i love the kid! but it felt like a super weird move, considering his parents are the SUPER strict and borderline helicopter parents. even the smallest prank/roughousing with him/his little sister would lead to a strict talking to from his parents, he couldn't ever do anything without their clear permission, that sort of stuff. so letting him fly at alone at 16 to a whole different country and stay there for a whole month seemed WILDLY out of character. additionally, it just felt like a super last-minute trip. it's not like we have any plans to do when he gets here, and the flight itself and stuff only got booked like, midway through june.

and i was talking to my mom about it, kind of trying to nudge some answers out of her, and after a while she went, "yeah, i think they're sending him over here to get away for his boyfriend. see if the distance breaks them off." which, first of all, surprised me because last i checked, they didn't KNOW he had a boyfriend. literally everyone in the family did EXCEPT for them because while that entire side of the family being semi-conservative, his parents (mostly his dad) are EXTREMELY old-fashioned. so clearly something already went wrong. and considering the only reason the rest of the family knew is because one person found out and it spread like wildfire, i have a sneaking suspicion he wasn't the one to tell them, either.

and second of all. they're sending him HERE. to try to make him forget his homosexuality. i couldn't do anything but just wordlessly gesture to the multiple pride flags scattered around my room, then to myself, because really? he has like two other cousins in the us and they're sending him to me? honey i am about to introduce this kid to queer scenes you have never even heard of. he'll be returning home with labels only shrimp can perceive

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Since you've mentioned Scarlet Lady in one of your posts, what's your opinion on it?

I've mentioned before that I'm a big Scarlet Lady fan, which is the only reason that I'm comfortable answering asks like this one. I don't publicly criticize the content of hobby creators. That's wildly inappropriate! Punch up, not down.

The linked post was a general discussion of the adaptation process and how @zoe-oneesama did a fantastic job, so for this one, I'm just going to do some general gushing because I do actually like praising and enjoying things!

Scarlet Lady's chosen format (comic) allows it to have this wonderful conversation with canon where it can rely on the framework of canon to tell it's own story while also using canon for jokes and meta commentary. This means that Scarlet Lady is about as close as fan content can get to a direct reboot because it's able to have moments like this one from the comic's first post:

[Image description: Adrien standing in his room after transforming into Chat Noir for the first time. He is beaming and his eyes are shining with excitement as he exclaims, "This is gonna be awesome!"]

A single picture that communicates everything we need to know about Adrien getting his miraculous. When I've done this same thing in fanfic, I had to write out the full scene because that's how novels work. You have to give the full picture. With a comic, you can just quickly acknowledge this thing that we all already know and then move on to the new stuff. A picture really is worth a thousand words! (Or, in my case, more like two thousand...)

This allows Zoe to keep the same akumas that we get in canon without her story feeling like a boring rehash because she can focus on what's different in her version. A novelization of the same content would have to show both the stuff that stays the same and the stuff that changes for it to be coherent. That's a lot less fun to read and write. It's why I basically never revisit canon akumas in my own stuff. It's just too derivative for the written word.

This is one of the big reasons that I loved Scarlet Lady. Because it was able to have that more directly conversation with canon, it was able to take canon and say, "hey, why don't we embrace the tone that you established in season one and retell the story with that vibe?" That's something that I desperately wanted to see, but that is totally unsuited to my chosen artistic form. It couldn't be a novel. It had to be a comic.

If you want to know what a true formula show version of Miraculous would look like, Scarlet Lady is it. It does everything that Miraculous should have done:

Sticks to a lighthearted tone where nothing is ever super serious

Keeps Gabriel entirely unsympathetic

Has slow character development and background hints at a bigger plot as the only serial elements, allowing the individual episodes to be their own story while never feeling incomplete or rushed

Allows characters other than Marinette to shine while keeping Marinette as the clear main character

Makes Adrien narratively important

MAKES THE LOVE SQUARE CUTE SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHIP IT

Understands that Lila and Chloe can't coexist as antagonists

Reverses the love square, which is the best way to tell their story. Yes, I will die on my "love diamond" hill. It's a good hill. Come join me. I'll bring cookies.

I could keep going, but you hopefully get my point. While Scarlet Lady is certainly not the only way to do a formula version of canon, it's proof that a formula version does work! You don't have to go the serious route for Miraculous to be successful.

I want to take some time to gush about the ending, but I don't want to spoil it, so I'll put that gushing under a "read more" in case anyone hasn't seen it. I'll finish out this less spoilerish section with this:

I feel like some people are surprised when they learn that I love Scarlet Lady because - as some of you have probably picked up - it is quite different from my ideal version of canon. I'm not sure why that would stop me from enjoying a thing, though. It's important to remember that our personal ideals are not the only way to tell a good story. There are lots of ways to take what canon gave us and make something wonderful! It's part of the reason that I enjoy being in a fandom.

If I only wanted to see my ideal take on canon, then I'd stick to writing/imagining my own stories. But I don't want that! I like seeing alternate takes, too. Scarlet Lady is one of my personal favorites. It's completely different from anything that I'd ever think to write and that's why I'm so glad that it exists! I like being entertained just as much as I like creating my own entertainment and I don't want to only read stories that look like something I'd write. That's boring!

Spoilers below:

I've mentioned before that there are many, many ways to properly handle Chloe's character and Zoe did such a good job with her take on that! Chloe isn't absolved of all the things she did wrong, but she's also treated as a young woman with the ability to change.

While the comic bares the name of Chloe's alter ego, she was the never the main character. She never went on a journey. The story kept her to her shallow season-one self: a petty brat who just wanted attention. It did this because that's who Chloe was in canon and who Chloe needed to be for the comic to work.

The first time we see any complexity from Chloe is in the comic's final few episodes, which was absolutely the right call for Zoe to make! In a recent post, I talked about how the end of a formula show is the only time when you can break the formula in catastrophic ways and that's what Zoe did. She kept Chloe static until it was time to end the story and that's when the formula breaks. That's when Chloe gets depth because, once she has depth, the formula doesn't work.

That depth is not used to redeem Chloe, but to show us that there's hope for Chloe. That this petty brat who we've been dealing with has some serious issues and needs help. Help that she's going to get far away from the people that she's hurt because her issues aren't an excuse for what she's done. They don't erase the harm that she caused. At the same time, understanding her issues makes us hope that she can be better now and Scarlet Lady took a moment to give us that hope. To show us the START of Chloe's true story.

That is the kind of ending that I have wanted to see in so many properties!!! It was so wonderful to finally get one that did this right. A story that understood that full redemption to the team and damnation to death/suffering are extremes on a scale of possibilities. You don't have to go to extremes! You can fall in the middle and the middle is a perfect, natural place for Chloe to land in this kind of story. Fully redeeming or even fully damning Chloe simply doesn't work in lighthearted formula content. It's too big a lift as canon has already demonstrated.

I also loved Zoe's take on Emilie. I've mentioned that I don't like evil Emilie in part because it makes her revival feel like the start of a new story. She's back and she'd bad, so we have to take her down now! But I don't want that. I want the story to end when Gabriel is stopped. Zoe does this by giving us an Emilie that is another perfect middle ground. She matches canon's uncomfortable implications without feeling like a true villain who is a threat to society.

[lizardsfromspace]

The factchecking this cycle has been so profoundly incompetent that it's finally getting some real backlash, but the extent of it really should be clear. So much of factchecking is not based in reality, but in a kind of contorted moon logic that can find true claims to be false and false ones to be true based on wildly inconsistent reasoning.

But this one really shows off some of the base assumptions of modern factchecking, and also bc it got a community note which is funny:

Let's take this one by one

The idea that quotes have any options but "he said it" or "he didn't say it". It is a binary, maybe with a third option of "it was clipped wildly out of context", but something you see constantly now is the idea that quoting someone's direct words without deceptive editing or removal of context can somehow be false

Pointlessly noting that it's from 2016, and that it's not clear if he currently believes it. What the hell does that matter to the question of if he said that in 2016? People understood that the "dig up someone's tweets from when they were 17" thing was inane, but they counter-balanced by apparently deciding that citing anything someone said more than about six months ago is Misinformation if we don't have objective evidence they would say the exact same thing now, even if there's no evidence they believe anything else. Analyzing someone's high school tweets and analyzing something the literal President said seven years ago are not equivalent

Noting that he walked it back following criticism. You see this constantly, too. Again, what does that matter to the question of if he said it? But this is just taken as a given now: if someone gets blowback and says "whoops I didn't mean it", that should be taken at face value. Effectively, Politifact is letting Donald Trump self-factcheck Donald Trump: their only evidence (and I read the article too) this is at all false is that Donald Trump said Donald Trump didn't really mean the words he said, so they must agree with the judgment of Donald Trump that Donald Trump was treated so unfairly here.

A general confusion over what factchecking is. If you're asked "did Donald Trump say this in 2016?", your sole job is to determine if he really said that in 2016. It's not to divine if he, deep in his heart, still believes it now. That's completely irrelevant.

The two guiding principles of modern factchecking are this: one, it's strongly rumored - and also, obvious to everyone literate - that the major factchecking sites have either standing orders to find equal numbers of lies on both sides, or are staffed by people who think it's their job to hold both sides equally to account (the exception is Snopes, whose writers are just terrible at their jobs). In the name of this, Donald Trump can say something on camera only for it to be judged false, while a Democratic politician can be excoriated for mildly rounding down a figure in a speech. A factchecking website once determined that saying climate change was a threat to life on this planet was a lie, because climate change won't kill all life on this planet. Politifact's lie of the year one year was a Democrat saying a Republican plan would "end Medicare as we know it", which was judged to be a lie because it wouldn't literally end Medicare completely. Figurative language needs to be scoured, comments said directly on camera need to be made fuzzy. This makes factchecking sites worthless at factchecking, because what even is this?

It's not true that Donald Trump will refuse to accept the election results, because he's merely said he won't accept, and has said if he loses, it's only because the election was fraudulent. Okay, what, do you demand that people prove he said his plans in exact words? What is the actual, functional difference between "he said he won't accept it" and "he said if he loses it's because he won and they stole it from him, and he won't commit to saying he'll accept it"? What are you talking about, who is this for? When you go to the Logic and Reason Site for Debunking & end up having to puzzle out their convoluted logic and reasoning to understand anything, the plot's been lost a bit

The other is the idea that context is exonerating. Any context at all. If they said they didn't mean it, partially false. If they walked it back, partially false. If they said it was taken out of context, partially false. If they said it a certain number of years ago, partially false. If there's a longer video, even if it shows functionally the same thing, pants on fire, five pinocchios.

Again, we have footage of Trump saying this, and the footage in the ad is unedited, and the factchecking website is declaring something that OBJECTIVELY HAPPENED WITH HARD EVIDENCE IT HAPPENED didn't really happen bc we don't know his heart, maybe he believes something different now, we simply can't know for certain. But we do know for certain. Because "false" at least used to mean "didn't happen". But factchecking sites are now on those Beyond Belief definitions of "true" and "false" I guess

But the real problem here is that they just accept anything someone being factchecked says at face value. Because, and I can't believe I'm saying this

It seems like the people paid to determine if other people are lying...have forgotten that people lie sometimes

[justauthoring]

puppy love.

requested! -> high school nanami please! the reader gets everything she wants from kento 🤷‍♀️

a/n -> slowly trying to work through all the requests yall have sent me ':)

pairing -> teen!nanami kento x f!reader

shoko.

"kento-kun~!"

the words on the tip of nanami's tongue are left unsaid as his entire body freezes, a involuntary flush coating his cheeks as the sweet sound of you calling his name floods his senses.

shoko who's stood in front of him raises a brow at nanami's reaction, the stunned look on the younger boys face not one she's seen before. her underclassmen is normally so composed that it was hard to get a reaction out of him ever, and yet a simple call of his name from your lips seems to have the boy starstruck.

you bound up to him, all bright smiles and twinkling eyes, slightly breathless as you all but ran to make your way over to your classmate. shoko notices the faint pink dusted across your cheeks as well and her interest is further piqued as she watches you smile all prettily up at nanami, peering at him through your lashes as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"kento-kun," you call again, voice softer but just as sweet now that you've reached him. "are you free right now?"

coughing slightly, shoko notices nanami glances at her out of the corner of his eye, not liking the mischief dancing in her gaze before turning to face you fully. he tries to put off the impression he's annoyed but his gaze remains softened when glancing down at you and the warmth in his gaze is more than obvious to his upperclassman.

"yes." he hums, hand moving to shove in his pocket. "what is it?"

shoko watches as you positively beam, clearly ecstatic at the fact that he was free, hands coming up to clasp in front of you. "would you like to go to this cafe with me?" you ask, head tilted, before reaching for your phone, flipping it open to show off a photo of said new cafe. "yu and i saw it yesterday on our way home from our mission and i think you'd really like it."

the mention of haibara has shoko smirking, clearly noticing the shift in nanami's posture at the mention of his other classmate. something changes in his gaze and shoko has to bite her lips from laughing out loud.

"did you..." and nanami hesitates, looking wildly uncomfortable as he glances at his feet. "did you and haibara go there together yesterday?"

oh, shoko thinks, this was just too good.

nanami? jealous? gojo was going to have a field day with this.

"oh," you blink, momentarily confused before shaking your head. "no. i wanted to go there with you first!"

although he tries to hide it, the pleasure of your words is clear on nanami's face as his entire body eases, no longer tensed as the edges of lips curl upwards just faintly.

shoko snorts.

"okay." he complies, as if the answer would ever be any different. "we can go."

you let out a squeal of excitement, and if it was anyone else, shoko is sure nanami would wince. instead, he watches on with a fond look in his eyes as you start rambling on about how excited you were and what treats you wanted to try all whilst nanami nods, actively listening while letting you lead the conversation.

you wave bye to shoko as you and nanami make your way off the schoolgrounds, and just as you and nanami turn out of view, she sees him shuffle towards you, arms brushing together. she grins when she sees you glance up at him, still beaming, wrapping your hands around his arm and leaning against him, and nanami lets you.

all without complaint.

without hesitation, shoko turns, eyes peeled for a certain white-haired, blind-fold wearing classmate that would love to hear about what she just witnessed.

gojo.

"y/l/n~!"

gojo grins as you turn from your spot at the table to face him, a smile curling on your lips as you wave at your senpai, beckoning him over.

"gojo-senpai," you greet as he reaches the table, "what brings you here?"

gojo smirks as he glances to your left where nanami sits, the two of you having been working on some homework together and registers the rather nasty glare his underclassman was sending him. nanami didn't like him at the best of times, it was true, but there seemed to be an extra edge to his glare that day as gojo took a seat across from you.

"oh, i saw my precious kohai's and i thought i'd come by to say hi," gojo explains with a shrug, playing it off as nonchalant. he feels nanami's gaze narrow at him, obviously expecting there to be more to the story than gojo is letting off.

which is true, of course, but gojo certainly wasn't going to admit to that.

"oh!" you beam, "well, kento-kun was just helping me with my homework." cheeks flushing, you shift in your spot, embarrassed. "i'm not very bright sometimes when it comes to the academic stuff."

"that's not true," nanami cuts in otherwise almost instantly and gojo smirks. "you just need extra time. there's nothing wrong with that."

your cheeks are practically burning at nanami's words, turning to look at your classmate with a doe-eyed expression.

gojo internally laughs. shoko was definitely right.

"hey, y/l/n," gojo calls, pulling your eyes on him as you blink, somewhat dazed, over at him. "i could you help with this stuff, ya know? i am after all your senpai!"

your eyes widen at his offer, obviously not having expected it. gojo was nice enough and he had never been anything but kind with you; maybe a little cocky and he liked to tease, but still nice. he'd never offered to help you with anything school wise though, whether that be training or just homework.

"gojo-senpai, i—"

"that won't be necessary," nanami cuts in, voice sharp. you blink at him in surprise at his sudden change in tone but gojo, having expected it, simply tries to hold back the laugh threatening to burst past his lips.

nanami then turns to you. "don't trust a word this idiot says," he explains to you, and any normal day gojo might be mildly insulted. today though? he's just amused. "he's basically failing everything."

not true, but—

"o-oh," you stammer, eyes flickering nervously between nanami and gojo.

"now, if you'll excuse us," nanami turns back to gojo, glaring at him, "y/n and i need to actually do some work. we can't all just mess around like you."

gojo's eyes flicker to the way you grab onto the sleeve of his shirt, tugging as you mumble worriedly at him, afraid he was actually hurting gojo's feelings. gojo just continues to grin, moving to stand back up as he brushes your concern off.

"no worries, y/l/n," gojo assures, sending you a thumbs up. "have fun, you two. and still, y/l/n, the offer stands."

gojo's running off before nanami can send a slur of insults at him again.

geto.

this was ridiculous, geto realized.

but gojo had begged him and wouldn't shut up until he agreed. so, here he was, standing in front of you, his fingers working to brush a strand of hair behind your ear as you blushed up at him, frazzled and confused, smiling softly down at you as he waited for nanami to make his way down the hall.

he was fully prepared to make gojo suffer for forcing him to do this and the thought that he should've continued to deny, despite how annoying his best friend was, crosses his mind. because now he was not only being forced to do something embarrassing, but to mess around with his underclassmen.

unlike his best friend, geto thought he was a decent role model for the first years. haibara seemed to like him well enough, constantly asking for him to help him train and nanami didn't seem to hate him as much as he hated gojo. and you? you were sweet, too nice for your own good and even geto had to admit, you were rather pretty.

so this? flirting with you when he truly meant nothing by it other than to make nanami jealous? felt incredibly wrong.

"ge-geto-senpai—"

"please, call me suguru," he smiles, internally cringing at himself.

yeah, he was definitely going to make gojo pay for this.

your cheeks burn brighter, "oh, well, i don't—"

"y/n?"

you startle at the sound of nanami's voice, back straightening as you quickly pull yourself out of geto's grasp. geto lets his hands fall by his sides with ease, taking a step back as you rush over to nanami, eyes wide with your hands held out before you desperately.

"kento-kun, what... what are you doing here?"

nanami's eyes flicker to geto, and to his credit, geto tries to offer a small smile in greeting, before he focuses back on you. "looking for you. we were supposed to study together, remember? you were the one who asked in first place."

"oh!" you blink, eyes widening. "yes, sorry, kento-ken. i... we can go now." you send a flustered look back at geto and nanami's eyes narrow, shuffling uncomfortably on the spot.

nanami looks like he wants to argue otherwise, sending a glare at geto that has him wincing (there goes his reputation with the first year). but your hand slipping into his is enough to satiate him, tugging him along with you.

"b-bye, geto-senpai!" you offer faintly to geto, waving at him over your shoulder before grinning brightly up at nanami.

well, it was clear gojo and shoko were right about the two of you but he definitely needed to have a conversation with his friends about not meddling in the first years personal lives.

geto, however, did let a smile curl on his lips when he noticed you'd been very specific about referring to him by his last name, despite his previous words. or the way you'd made sure nanami had heard you refer to him as such.

ah, young love.

haibara.

"are you and y/n dating?"

nanami nearly spits out the water he'd been drinking, feeling the burn of it as some of comes up his nose. he coughs, lowering the water bottle to the table as he tries to gather his bearings. blinking, nanami presses a hand to his chest, before turning to look at haibara with a look of disbelief.

"what?"

haibara, to his credit, looks genuinely confused.

"are you not?" he asks, head tilting. "i just assumed you guys were."

"what—why would you assume that?"

haibara doesn't fail to notice how red his friends cheeks have gotten.

"well, you're always helping her with homework and studying together," he starts off, raising his hand to list off just the few scenarious he's witnessed in the past week alone. "when i ask you for help, you tell me to figure it out myself. and! oh! you guys went to that cafe together the other day and when i asked to stop off somewhere, after a mission not to mention, you told me to go by myself so—"

nanami splutters for a response.

"not to mention," haibara adds, pressing a finger to his chin in thought. "gojo-senpai and shoko-senpai told me you were so—"

"they what?!"

haibara blinks, surprised and confused by nanami's outburst. "yeah? the other day." he hums, nodding. "i went to join you and y/n outside and they pulled me aside, telling me i should leave you two to your date alone... is that not what they meant?"

haibara tilts his head, only then noticing how nanami looks like he's practically about to combust on the spot.

"nanami...?"

pushing himself to a stand, nanami doesn't say anything before he promptly turns and leaves.

stunned and confused, haibara blinks.

"what did i say?"

nanami.

"i need to talk to you."

"oh, kento-kun! what's up?"

truthfully, nanami probably should've taken a moment to think through just exactly what he meant to say to you before all but barging into your room.

he'd been so frazzled and embarrassed that he hadn't really been thinking straight, his feet walking for him until he found himself outside your dorm room. he hadn't even knocked before opening it and oh god, the realization that you could've been... changing crosses his mind as nanami feels himself grow hot from embarrassment.

"kento-kun?" you call out, concerned, as you stand up from your bed. "are you okay?"

he blinks and suddenly you're in front of him. he hadn't even realized you'd been making your way over to him until that moment!

heart pounding, still breathless, nanami meets your gaze, letting his eyes wander across you. before he can stop himself, his eyes lower to your lips, almost involuntarily, and then, with a split second though, he's leaning forward and pressing his lips against your own.

you freeze at the action, body stilling and nanami panics, moving to pull away, but then a second later you're easing into his touch, returning to kiss as your hands move to grip the front of his school uniform. you tug him towards you, holding him in place and nanami practically melts at the spot.

a moment later you pull away, cheeks rosy and breathless, grinning up at nanami.

"i've been waiting for you to do that forever," you confess, breathless.

and nanami's never felt like more of a fool then he does in that moment for waiting so damn long.

yaga.

wordlessly, shoko and gojo stretch their hands out towards their teacher, grinning ear to ear, palms up. geto stands behind them, shaking his head.

"you two are ridiculous." yaga grumbles, "you meddled."

shoko just shrugs; "never said we couldn't meddle."

"besides," gojo snorts. "if anything we helped. who knows how long it would've taken nanami to say something. have you met the boy?"

yaga just rolls his eyes, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

[hazelfoureyes]

why smut with an ace character?

This person was a minor so I won’t reply directly. I would love to discuss sexual orientation and the wibbly wobbly nature of attraction and pleasure to someone who I think needs a space to discuss it but as an adult stranger? That’s not my place and I would be wildly uncomfortable doing so directly. But! For anyone who does see my blog and wonders why, I’ll have this set on my master list to save me time

Heheheheh MY TIME HAS COME

closing in on 5 months of being on tumblr and this is my first “BUT ACE!” Comment/inbox

so, why?

✦Alastor is canonically Ace! The aro aspect was mentioned by an important staffer but has been left off as a descriptor by Viv herself and no accepted as canon. She gave her explicit permission to write them as we are comfortable with.

✦Asexuals can and do fuck! 💦 (my source? My ace spec partner!)

✦Alastor’s ace spectrum is often times an important aspect of my stories!

I always have Alastor motivated into sexual situations for non-sexual reasons.

Closeness, intimacy, fulfilling a partner’s needs, a biological imperative, for power, for control, putting someone into a submissive to embarrassing position. It’s to see someone break and bend to his will (with consent).

But lets shift into asexuality now --- how I write him isn't a representation of all ace people! It’s just how I view his place on the spectrum. Being Ace doesn't mean you can't ever want sexual pleasure in any form, it doesn't mean you never think about sex or enjoy seeing it.

Letting people explore the range of being asexual is as important as with any other sexual orientation. If you feel people being non-sex repulsed and being Ace is making your own identification harder to make clear to strangers —- well then I wonder if the label itself is more important to you than the community we all desperately seek and need when we publicly acknowledge our sexuality. We publicly say we’re LGBTQIA+ because these labels are for self identification and signal to like minded people and allies we're here. This is how I love and how I want to be loved. Maybe one day a different word will exist to separate the spectrum but we’re living and working with what we have today and how we find each other now. “Why not call him grey ace?” It’s each individuals decision how they wanna identify!

Full circle. Why do I write SO much smut about an ace character? Of course I think that animated deer man’s personality is hot lmao but also because I love this character and identify with him a lot! Being ace doesn't mean he doesn't ever have sex or ever enjoy physical pleasures! Writing about someone seeking out pleasure for non-sexual reasons is very fun for me as someone who doesn't identify with the romantic aspect of sex many people put on it. Do ace people fuck for romantic reasons? Yes! Absolutely! Being Asexual doesn’t mean you’re Aromantic!

Why not write fluff or QPR? Because I'm aromantic and it's harder for me but I am trying and am getting better at it because I want to write more things that meet the needs and wants of many kinds of people. As for QPR, I'm still learning what those relationships look like and learning how to idenfity them in my own life!

And finally— it’s valid to write him as any form of Ace or even not Ace at all! I prefer to keep him Ace spec but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong to make him not. He’s not real and the creator has given us permission to do so. 👌🏼

[cosmicflw3rr]

cash in.

dominik mysterio x fem! reader

summary: you cash in at wrestlemania.

A/N: this is inspired by damian’s cash in, just something to put out while I work on my other things! btw pls request stuff I need to unleash my creativity 😈😈

btw in this short fic, for the inst post at the end im using pics from liv’s cash in, and a pic of bianca and montez but you can imagine yourself however you want it’s just pics i chose for the post :)

your nerves were jumbled up as you watched bayley and iyo sky fight for the title. their feud had been going on for a while now and was finally going to be resolved at the grandest stage of them all.

what they didn’t know was that tonight you’d finally cash in the money in the bank contract you'd been clutching for months. you had never found the perfect moment to make your move. yet, something in the air felt different, electric. today was the day you'd cash it in; you could just feel it.

you had to look away from the screen at the amount of close calls the match had, you moved away from the monitor sitting down on the couch in the little spot the tv crew had for the judgement day. damian, finn, jd and rhea also watched the match intently.

you held your head with your hands, sighing. your leg bouncing up and down anxiously. dominik, your boyfriend sat down next to you placing his hand on your knee to stop it from bouncing.

as soon as dom's hand touched your knee, you paused and locked eyes with him. "hermosa, talk to me," he urged, understanding the weight of the evening on your shoulders, yet not wanting you to be overwhelmed by stress.

leaning back, you let out a groan, the frustration clear in your voice. "what if it doesn’t work? what if I can't cash in the contract?" you shared your fears, the pressure mounting. "I might not get a chance like this ever again." the uncertainty of it all was eating at you.

you were convinced this was a once-in-a-lifetime shot, but dom saw things differently. he knew just how incredible you were in the ring, how you owned every match you fought and put your heart into everything you did. so to hear you think you weren’t ever going to get an opportunity like that again hurt, because he knew you would.

“listen amor.” when you wouldn't meet his gaze, he gently tilted your chin up, eyes meeting yours, and saw the worry glistening there. with a soft, reassuring smile, he whispered, "amor, don't worry. you've got this. you're one of the best wrestlers out there, and no matter what happens, there will be more chances. believe in yourself like I believe in you." his words were the comfort you didn't know you needed.

you eyes met dom’s as you nodded, understanding flickering between you. suddenly, the bell echoed, one, two, three times. your head whipped around to the screen, and there it was—bayley's victory. the members from your faction turned to you, their faces a mix of surprise and disbelief.

aithout a second thought, you grabbed your briefcase and bolted towards the gorilla, heart racing. "I'm cashing in! I'm cashing in!" you shouted at the top of your lungs. the production crew exchanged quick glances, barely able to process your words as you grabbed a referee by his shirt and charged onto the stage, adrenaline fueling your every step.

running down the ramp as your theme blared through the arena, the crowd erupted in cheers, instantly recognizing the moment unfolding. You reached the ring sliding into it with the referee on your heels. you turned thrusting the briefcase into his hands, “I’m cashing in!” you yelled.

he looked down at the briefcase his voice tinged with uncertainty, "are you sure?"

without hesitation, you shouted back, "yes, I'm cashing in, do it!" your hand came down hard on the briefcase, affirming your decision. the buzz from the crowd surged through you, adrenaline coursing wildly through your veins.

bayley staggered to her feet, unsteady. you bounced on the balls of your feet, ready, and as the bell chimed for the third time, you quickly delivered your finisher, the ripcord flatliner.

she hit the mat, motionless. yet, the roar of the crowd told you to keep going. you quickly pulled her to the ring's center, seizing her legs and cinching in a figure four lock, the cheers growing impossibly louder.

the excitement from the crowd was electric and the adrenaline in your body was hard to contain.

with the figure four perfectly locked in, bayley was trapped, dead center of the ring with no hope of grabbing the ropes. you yelled, teeth gritted, tightening the hold. then, the moment came—bayley tapped out, the bell sounding three times.

your music blared out as you released her, you scooted back, your spine meeting the ropes, shock written on your face. your hands flew to cover your eyes, tears leaving paths down your cheeks as you sobbed, the crowd's roar drowning your thoughts, the reality of the moment not quite sinking in.

wiping your tears, you turned to the referee, who held the championship title towards you. grabbing it from, you sat there dazed, just gazing at the title, a fresh wave of tears blurring in your eyes as pride swelled within you.

you got to your feet, lifting your arm, and the cheers from the crowd grew even wilder. you let out a smile, wiping away those involuntary tears. just then, at the top of the ramp, you noticed the judgement day coming out, cheering you on.

without missing a beat, you slipped out of the ring and bolted up the ramp. reaching the top, you found dominik first, waiting for you. the two of you collided into a tight embrace, him lifting and twirling you off the ground.

when your feet touched solid ground, you stepped back, locking eyes with him briefly, then sharing a tender kiss. after the kiss, you both melted into another warm hug, your arms around his neck and his on your waist.

“I’m so proud of you baby. I told you everything would work out.” he whispered, stirring fresh tears in your eyes. you nodded against his shoulder.

"I love you so much," you choked out, voice trembling, tears streaming down. breaking from the embrace, he tenderly held your face, wiping away the tears, then kissed you once more.

a smile broke through as he stepped aside, revealing the judgement day, all hyped up. In an instant, they swept you and dom up in a massive group hug.

you all erupted in cheers, bouncing around with excitement as each one expressed their pride in you, bringing a beam to your face. the group hug ended, and everyone turned towards the ring.

in a swift move, dom and damian hoisted you onto their shoulders, your hands clutching the title as you raised it high, pyro blazing in the background.

with a joyful shout, you took in the cheering crowd. after soaking in the moment, they carefully lowered you back down. you lifted your hand in triumph one last time before Dom draped his arm over your shoulder.

backstage, away from the roaring crowd, the intimacy of the moment enveloped you and dom as the judgment day trailed behind. you wrapped your arms around dom once more, this hug deeper, more personal.

tears freely flowed as the weight of your victory hit you, and dom was there, a comforting presence, rubbing your back gently. "I am so, so proud of you, amor. you've earned this and so much more," he whispered, his words a soothing balm to your overwhelmed emotions.

pulling back from the embrace, you brushed away the lingering tears, offering him a tender kiss. "thank you, babe. for everything," you murmured with heartfelt gratitude.

"this was all you," he replied, his pride in you evident.

"maybe, but your support has been my rock, the thing that's kept me pushing forward," you said, your voice laced with appreciation. his smile then met yours, and he leaned in to seal your shared moment with another kiss.

LIKED BY DOMINIK_35, RHEARIPLEY_WWE, ARCHEROFINFAMY, YAONLIVONCE & 5 MILLION OTHERS

y/n: and your new…

tagged: dominik_35

VIEW COMMENTS

dominik_35: so proud of you amor❤️

y/n: ❤️❤️❤️

rhearipley_wwe: all rise!!

y/n: judgement day is ALWAYS on top!!💜⚖️

yaonlylivonce: so happy for you! you deserve it!! 🥹❤️❤️

y/n: thank you so much liv! I love you so much!!🤍

archerofinfamy: proud of you chiquita💜

y/n: 💜

samanthairvinwwe: by far my fav name to call out tonight! congrats girl! you deserve it!! 👏💗

y/n: shhhh🤫 don’t let them know you have favorites😏

wwelover: was in sm shock watching! congratulations!!

y/n.vsp: the edits I alr have lined up for this😝

wrestlingstan: I KNEW SHED CASH IN! OMG!

WWE: your new women’s champion!

y/n: thank you to all of you who gave me the opportunity❤️.

[lee-laurent]

Screaming 'I Love You' At the Top of My Lungs - Luke Hughes

Summary: Olivia (Oli) Jones grows up with Luke Hughes.

content: angst, fluff, kissing, make out session, mentions of sex but no smut, relationships, growing up, puberty, underage drinking

wc: 8.2k

notes: this one has been chilling in a word doc for almost a year now, unfinished... so here we are! enjoy!!

p.s.: part 6 of done trying is in the works for all the fans out there ;)

Emily Jones had been thrilled when the lake house next to theirs had been purchased by a family. It finally meant that her daughter, Olivia, would have someone her age to spend time with over the summer. She was even more thrilled when she and her husband became friends with the parents, Ellen and Jim. This newly formed friendship quickly created a tradition of spending every summer together, growing up together, and forming a bond that would last a lifetime.

~~

The sun was high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the lake as Luke and Olivia splashed at the edge of the dock. At ten years old, they were inseperable, spending their days swimming, racing, and inventing games that only made sense to them. Today's grand plan was to catch the biggest fish in the lake- a challenge they'd taken seriously for maybe ten minutes.

Jack and Quinn were further down the dockl, attempting to escape the craziness of their younger brother and his best friend. They had their own fishing lines in the water, but their focus was more on the competition than the younger two.

"Luke, you're scaring all the fish away!" Jack complained, glancing over his shoulder as Luke and Olivia chased each other, laughing loudly.

Quinn nodded in agreement, annoyance clear on his face. "Yeah, why don't you go play somewhere else? We're actually trying to fish here."

Luke, undeterred by his brothers' grumbling, grinned at Olivia. "Ignore them. They're just mad 'cause we're going to catch the biggest fish.

Olivia giggled, "Let's show them how it's done, Lu!"

The two of them raced to the end of the dock, their feet dangling over the water, and cast their lines. Jack and Quinn exchanged an eye roll but couldn't help watching as the younger pair got to work.

Minutes ticked up in silence, and just as Jack thought that his peace had returned, Luke jumped up, almost falling into the water. "I got one!" he exclaimed.

Quinn groaned, watching his brother intently. "Here we go..."

Olivia jumped up, her enthusiasm only adding to the noise. "You got it, Luke! Woooo! Go Lu!"

Luke finally pulled it up-- a small, wriggling fish that flopped wildly at the end of his line. He beamed with pride, holding it up for everyone to see.

"See? Told you we'd catch one first!"

Jack and Quinn exchanged a look, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Congratulations," Jack said dryly. "Now can you please be quiet?"

Olivia stuck her tongue out at the older boys, unfazed by their lack of enthusiasm. "You're just jealous, Jacky."

"Whatever you say, Oli."

As the two little fishers planned their next big catch, the older boys sighed in unison, dreading the rest of the summer. But deep down, they these moments-- no matter how annoying-- would become part of the memories that formed their childhoods.

~~

The Michigan sun was bright as ever, but the atmosphere around the house had shifted. At thirteen, Luke Hughes and Olivia Jones had begun to outgrow some of their childhood games, but their bond remained as strong as ever. This summer, though, things were a bit different. Jack had brought his friends, Trevor and Cole, to the lake house for the first time, and their presence quickly added a new dynamic to the house.

Luke watched with irritation as Olivia, his partner in crime, seemed unusually interested in the new arrivals. Especially Trevor. She'd giggle at all his jokes, blush when he looked her way, and do everything she could to be near him. It didn't make any sense to Luke.

It was early afternoon, and the group was gathered by the lake, lounging on the end of dock, soaking up the sun. Trevor was showing off, talking about a trick he could do while wakesurfing, while Olivia hung on his every word.

"Why are you so into him?" Luke asked, his voice laced with frustration. He had finally pulled Olivia away from Trevor, getting some time to sit alone with his best friend.

Oli blushed, brushing her hair behind her ear. "He's cool, Luke. Don't you think so?"

Luke frowned, chucking a stone into the water. "He's just a guy. I don't get what's so special about him."

She shrugged, her eyes drifting back to Trevor, who was now laughing with Jack and Cole. "You wouldn't understand."

Trevor caught her gaze and flashed her a smile, which only made Olivia's cheeks redden further. Luke rolled his eyes, feeling a strange, unwelcome pang in his chest. He was used to having Oli's full attention, and now she was distracted-- by some older guy who didn't even notice her in the way she wanted.

Jack, having noticed his little brother's sour mood, followed Luke into the kitchen.

"Hey, Moose, you jealous or something?"

Luke shot him a glare. "Of what? Trevor? No way."

Jack chuckled, ruffling Luke's hair. "Don't worry, Moosey. She'll get over it. Trev isn't interested."

Luke wanted to snap back, but he just crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the window at the lake. He couldn't quite put his feelings into words, but he knew one thing: he didn't like this change, not one bit.

Even as the group gathered around the firepit, Olivia sat closer to Trevor than to Luke. She always sat next to Luke! Luke watched from across the flames, feeling a simmering of annoyance. It wasn't like Olivia to act like this, and it bothered him way more than he wanted to admit.

Why did he feel like this?

~~

Olivia had never been so excited for a trip to the lake house. She was 15 and finally had her driving permit. She was so eager to show off her new found freedom to her best friend. Her parents had given her permission to drive around the small neighbourhood that their lake house was located in. The moment she arrived, she practically dragged Luke to the driveway where her parents' car was parked, keys in hand, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Come on, Lu! Let's go for a drive," she urged, not giving him a chance to protest.

Luke hestitated for a second, glancing at the car. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he teased, though he was already following her.

Olivia rolled her eyes, grinning brightly. "I've been practicing for months. Don't worry-- I've got this."

They climbed into the car, and Olivia adjusted the seat and mirrors with exaggerated care. Luke couldn't help but smirk at her seriousness, but he didn't say anything. As she started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, he felt both excitement and nervousness. This was new territory for both of them, and it felt oddly significant.

The road around the lake waws quiet, bordered by tall trees that cast shadows on the asphalt. Olivia kept both hands firmly on the wheel, her brow furrowed in concentration as she navigated the path. Luke found himself sneaking glances at her, noticing how grown up she looked while driving.

"You're really into this driving thing, huh?" he asked, keeping his tone light.

"Are you kidding? It's freedom, Lu! We can go anywhere, do anything... well, not really. But you get the idea," Oli replied, flashing him a grin before turning her eyes back to the street.

Luke nodded, though he wasn't really listening. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was more than just a drive. There was something about the way she looked at him, the way she drove with such confidence-- it all felt... different. And he wasn't sure he liked how it made him feel.

They approached a sharp curve in the road, Olivia bit her lip in concentration, turning the wheel with a bit too much speed. The car swerved, and for a split second, Luke's heart leaped into his throat. His hand shot out, gripping the edge of his seat as he tried to steady himself.

"Olivia-!"

"I've got it!" she said quickly, her voice a little higher than normal. She corrected the wheel, and the car straightened out, but they were both still a little shaken.

"Maybe I should slow down a bit," Olivia admitted, still laughing.''

"Maybe," Luke agreed, his heart thundering against his chest.

When they finally returned to the lake house, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the water. Olivia parked the car, turning to Luke with a satisfied grin. "Told you I could do it."

"Yeah, you did good," Luke said.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Luke found himself replaying the day over and over in his mind. Olivia's laughter, her excitement-- it was all stuck in his head, and for the first time, he couldn't just brush it off.

What was happening to him? Why did he feel this way?

The summer felt different now, and Luke wasn't sure he was ready for it.

~~

The following day, Luke and Olivia found themselves alone at the lake houses, the others having gone into town to grocery shop. It wasn't unusual for them to spend time together, just the two of them (obviously), but today it felt different-- charged with an unspoken tension neither could quite name.

"Want to go down to the dock?" Oli suggested, trying to keep things normal, though she could feel the shift in the air.

"Sure," Luke agreed, grabbing a couple of towels and a cooler of drinks as they headed outside.

They settled onto the dock, dangling their feet in the water. The familiar sounds of the lake-- water lapping at the shore, birds calling from the tall trees-- usually felt comforting, but today, Luke couldn't shake the nervous energy buzzing inside him.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping on cold sodas and watching the water hit against the dock. But it wasn't long before Olivia broke it.

"Luke," she began hesitantly, her voice softer than normal, "d'you ever think about... growing up? Like, how things are changing?"

Luke turned to her, surprised by her question. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. "It's just... we're not kids anymore. Y'know? It feels like everything is different, even though we're still here, doing the same things."

He swallowed, suddenly aware of the way her shoulder brushed against his, how close they were sitting. "Yeah, I guess I've been thinking about that too," he admitted.

Olivia turned to face him, her eyes searching his. "D'you think... we'll always be like this? Best friends, I mean. Or do you think we'll grow apart?"

His heart skipped a beat at the thought. The idea of losing what they had-- whatever it was-- was somethinghe couldn't bear. "We won't grow apart," he said firmly, though the words felt heavy on his tongue. "We'll always be best friends, no matter what."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Luke replied, though he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or her.

The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the water, and Olivia leaned her head on Luke's shoulder, a gesture that had once felt so natural now made his heart race.

"You're my best friend, Lu," she murmured.

Luke hestitated, then put his arm around her, pulling her closer. "You're mine too, Oli," he said, though the words felt like they were only scratching the surface of what he wanted to say.

As the sun set and the sky turned from pink to a deep blue, Luke couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them. He had always thought their friendship would last forever, unchanged, but now he wasn't so sure.

But as they sat there, wrapped together, he couldn't imagine being anyone else.

~~

At 18, Luke and Olivia had slipped back into the easy rhythm of their friendship, though there were moments when things felt different-- charged in a way they hadn't been before. But for the most part, they had grown out of the awkward phase that had defined their relationship two years ago.

This summer, however, one major thing had changed. Olivia and Trevor's feelings for each other, once unrequited, were now undeniably mutual. And it drove Luke insane.

He hated the way that Trevor looked at her-- like she was the only person in the room. And worse, he hated the way Olivia looked back at Trevor, as if she were lost in his gaze. It was if they were silently communicating, undressing each other with their eyes, and it made Luke's stomach churn every time he saw it.

One evening, after a long day on the water, the group gathered in the house for a lowkey night. The parents had gone out for dinner, leaving the boys to their own devices. And Olivia was spending the night watching a movie with her parents. The boys sprawled out in the living room, beers in hand, the sound of crickets filling the quiet spaces between their conversations.

Trevor leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know," he began, his voice taking on a tone that immediately put Luke on edge, "Oli's really something else this summer."

Luke's grip on his beer tightened as he shot Trevor a glance. "What do you mean by that?"

Trevor shrugged, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I mean, she's grown up a lot, hasn't she? Not just in looks, but the way she carries herself. Confident. Sexy."

Luke felt anger rise in his chest. He forced himself to stay calm, but his jaw clenched as he watched Trevor. "She's always been confident," Luke said, his voice steady but edged with warning.

"Yeah, but there's something different about her now," Trevor continued, oblivious to-- or ignoring-- the tension in Luke's voice. "She knows exactly how to get a guy's attention. And trust me, she's got mine."

Luke couldn't take it anymore. "Dude, you need to chill," he snapped, his eyes narrowing at Trevor. "She's not just some girl you can talk about like that. She's my best friend."

Trevor raised an eyebrow, surprised by Luke's reaction. "Relax, Hughes. I'm just saying what everyone's thinking. It's not like I don't care about her."

"That's exactly why you should be more careful with what you say," Luke shot back, his voice lower but still laced with anger. "She deserves more respect than that."

The room went quiet, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Jack and Cole exchanged glances but stayed out of it, sensing this was something Luke needed to handle on his own.

Trevor finally shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I didn't mean any harm. I care about her too, y'know."

Luke didn't respond, just stared at Trevor until the other boy looked away, focusing on his drink instead. The conversation moved on, but the uneasy feeling in Luke's chest didn't go away.

As Luke lay in bed later that night, he couldn't stop thinking about the way Trevor had talked about Olivia. He knew his reaction had been intense, but he felt like he couldn't help it. Seeing his best friend with someone else, especially someone who looked at her the way Trevor did, made him want to snap.

He didn't know what it all meant, but one thing was clear: this summer was going to be a lot harder than he'd expected.

~~

The house boomed with the bass of music. With their parents away for the weekend, the boys and Olivia had seized the opportunity to throw a party, and the place was packed with people. Outside, the chaos of beer pong and rowdy games filled the air, while inside, the living room had become a makeshift dance floor.

Luke navigated through the crowd, making his way to the kitchen for a refill. He was in no mood to party- and pretty much wanted to be anywhere else. He slowed when he heard two familiar voices-- Trevor and Olivia. They were standing near the counter, the tension between them palpable. Luke hovered just out of sight, listening closely.

"I can't believe our parents trust us enough to leave us alone for the weekend," Olivia said, her voice carrying a playful tone.

Trevor's laugh was easy, casual. "Yeah, well, they figure we're old enough to handle it. Plus, we've done this before at the Hughes' house, no big deal."

Olivia's soft chuckle followed, and Luke could hear the flirtation in her voice, which made his stomach turn. "You make it sound so harmless, but I know you guys. You're trouble."

"We're not that bad," Trevor replied, his voice dropping a notch, laced with a charm that grated on Luke's nerves. "And besides, trouble's more fun."

There was a brief pause, the kind that made the air feel thick with anticipation. Luke's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he watched Olivia take a step closer to Trevor, her hand reaching out to touch his arm lightly.

"You think you're fun, huh?" her tone was teasing, but there was something more there-- something that made Luke's skin prickle with unease.

Trevor leaned in, his eyes never leaving hers. "Why don't you find out?"

For a moment, Luke thought he might be able to stop what was happening, might be able to step in and pull her away-- pull them apart. But he was frozen, every muscle tense as he watched Olivia smile at Trevor, a soft, almost nervous smile that Luke had seen a thousand times before. But this time, it wasn't meant for him.

"I think I might just do that," she whispered, her voice so quiet that Luke almost didn't hear it. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she closed the remaining distance between them. Her lips brushing Trevor's in a kiss that was tentative at first, like she was testing the waters.

Trevor responded immediately, pulling her closer, his hand sliding to the small of her back as he deepened the kiss. And that was when something inside Luke snapped.

It wasn't just a kiss. It was the way she melted into Trevor's arms, the way their bodies fit together like they belonged that way. It was the way Olivia's hands moved up to cup Trevor's face, like she'd wanted to do it for a long time. It was the way Trevor's fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss even further.

Luke's heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. His vision tunneled, and all he could see was them--Olivia and Trevor-- lost in each other. The rest of the world fell away, the noise of the party fading into the background until all that remained was the two of them, completely oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

Oli made a soft, contented sound against Trevor's lips, a sound that Luke had never heard her make before. It was intimate, private, and it twisted something deep inside him. He wanted to look away, to give them privacy, but he couldn't. Is feet were glued to the floor, forced to witness something he wasn't meant to see.

Trevor pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, his hands now resting on her waist. He smiled, and the tenderness of it made Luke's blood boil. "Maybe we should take this somewhere a little less... public," Trevor suggested, his voice husky.

Oli nodded, her eyes still locked on his. "Yeah... let's go upstairs."

The words hit Luke like a punch to the gut, but he still couldn't move, couldn't tear his eyes off them as Trevor took her hand and led her out of the kitchen. Luke's fists clenched at his sides as he watched them head towards the stairs, Olivia glancing back only once before she disappeared from view.

For a long moment, he just stood there, the scene replaying in his mind, the bitter taste of jealousy and anger rising in his throat. He wanted to puke and scream. He wanted to punch something.

He turned and left the hall, weaving through the party, his face masking the storm raging in his mind. The noise of the party, the laughter, and the shouts seemed to mock him as he walked outside. Ignoring the concerned looks from his brothers and Cole, he grabbed a beer and chugged it. All he could think about was Olivia and Trevor, and how they'd left together, their intentions clear. And how he couldn't do anything about it.

~~

The party continued in full swing, with music still blaring and people scattered across the backyard, laughing, drinking, and playing games. Luke sat in a lawn chair near the edge of the group, nursing a drink and pretending to be engaged in the conversation happening around him. But his mind was elsewhere, replaying what he had just witnessed in the kitchen over and over again.

He kept his eyes on the entrance to the house, unable to stop himself from waiting--watching-- for Olivia to return. When she finally did, it was like another punch in the gut. She stepped out onto the back porch, her hair slightly touseled, her shirt askew, and her cheeks flushed. She looked around, her eyes scanning the crowd as if she was looking for something-- or someone.

Luke quickly looked away, trying to focus on anything else. He didn't want to see the confusion in her eyes when she noticed that he was ignoring her, but he knew it was inevitable. He braced himself for it, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral as she finally spotted him.

Her face lit up in recognition, and she started towards him, but her steps faltered when she noticed his lack of reaction. She paused, frowning slightly as she tried to catch his eye, but Luke didn't give her the satisfaction. He kept his gaze fixed on the group in front of him, even though he couldn't hear a word they were saying.

"Hey, Lu," she called out, her voice hopeful.

Luke barely glanced at her, giving her only a nod in acknowledgment before turning back to his drink. She hesitated, her brow furrowing in confusion. She took a step closer, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he leaned away just enough to make it clear he wasn't interested in talking.

"Luke, what's going on?" she asked, concern creeping into her voice.

He shrugged, his tone detatched. "Nothing, just busy."

Olivia blinked, clearly thrown off by his cold response. She opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could, the back door swung open again, and Trevor emerged, a grin plastered on his face as he joined the group outside. He looked around, his eyes landing on Olivia, and without missing a beat, he made his way over to her.

"Hey, there you are," Trevor said, sliding up behind Olivia and wrapping his arms aorund her waist. He pulled her close, his chin resting on her shoulder as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Her confusion melted away the instant she felt Trevor's touch. Her race softened, and she leaned back into him, a smile on her lips. For a moment, she seemed to forget all about Luke, her attention fully absorbed by the boy who now had his arms around her.

"Trevor," she said, her voice playful as she tilted her head to look up at him. "You disappeared on me."

Trevor chuckled, his hands resting comfortably on her hips. "Just had to check on a few things. But I'm back now, and I'm not going anywhere."

Olivia beamed at him, her earlier concerns about Luke seemingly forgotten. She reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face, her fingers lingering on Trevor's arm as if she needed the contact to stay grounded. The tension in her posture was gone, replaced by a relaxed, almost blissful demeanor that made Luke's chest tighten all over again.

Her laugh rang out as Trevor whispered something in her ear, and Luke couldn't help but glance at them. They were completely wrapped in each other, oblivious to everything else. The way Trevor's hands rested possessively on her waist, the way Olivia leaned into his touch--it was like they had forgotten the whole world existed, including Luke.

Any trace of the confusion and worry Olivia had shown just moments before had vanished. It was if Luke's coldness didn't matter anymore, as if she didn't even notice. All she cared about was Trevor, and the realization hit Luke harder than he expected.

He took a long drink from his cup, letting the bitter taste wash away the knot in his throat. The party continued around him, but it all felt distant and unimportant, like white noise. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd seen, what he'd felt--and how much it hurt to see her look at someone else like that.

But Luke wouldn't let it show, espeically in front of Olivia. He stayed silent, stewing in his own thoughts, while Olivia and Trevor remained lost in their own little world, leaving him on the outside looking in.

~~

The next morning, the house was unusually quiet. Luke was in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee, trying to clear his head from the events of the previous night.

His mind was still a mess, replaying the scene of Trevor and Olivia in the kitchen. He hadn't slept well, tossing and turning as he tried to make sense of his emotions, the anger, the jealousy-- everything.

Just as he was starting to lose himself in thought again, Jack strolled into the kitchen, looking surprisingly awake and annoying cheerful. He grabbed a glass of water and leaned against the counter, smirking at his younger brother.

"Well, well, well, Moosey," Jack started, his tone teasing. "I was wondering when you were finally going to make a move on Oli. I gotta say, I'm impressed."

Luke looked up, brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Jack held up a small, crumpled foil wrapper he'd found discarded on the living room floor. Trevor must've gone to throw it away downstairs. "Found this little guy near the couch. Figure it was about time you two finally, you know... got together."

Luke's stomach twisted at sight of the condom wrapper. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but seeing it now only brought back the memory of Trevor and Olivia all over again. His jaw tightened as he stared at the wrapper, feeling a fresh wave of nausea.

"That's not mine," Luke said flatly, his voice colder than he intended.

Jack's smirk faltered as he raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what? Then whose is it?"

Luke's grip tightened around his coffee mug, his knuckles turning white. He didn't want to say it, didn't want it admit it aloud, but he knew he had to. "It's Trevor's," he finally muttered, the mords tasted bitter in his mouth. "It was him and Olivia."

For a moment, Jack was stunned into silence, his playful expression dropping as he processed what Luke had just said. "Trevor?" he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice. "You're telling me Trevor and Olivia..."

Luke nodded, unable to say it again. The anger and frustration that had been simmering all night was starting to bubble over, and he couldn't keep it in any longer.

"They were in the kitchen last night," Luke said, his voice rough with emotion. "I walked in on them. Didn't even realize I was there."

Jack blinked, trying to wrap his head around the situation. "Shit, Moose... I didn't know." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to handle this. "Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you stop them?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Luke snapped. "I didn't want to make a scene. They were all over each other, Jack. She looked so... happy. I just... I couldn't."

Jack sighed, stepping closer to Luke. "I'm sorry, man. I thought... well, I thought it was you and her finally figuring things out."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't," Luke muttered, staring down at the table, the pain of the situation settling in. "And now she's probably going to spend the rest of the summer glued to Trevor, and I'll just have to sit here and watch."

Jack placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. "Look, maybe it's not as serious as you think. Trevor's... well, he's Trevor. He's probably not thinking long-term, and maybe Olivia's just caught up in the moment. She's getting attention from an older guy. Chicks love that shit."

Luke shurgged off Jack's hand, his frustration too overwhelming to accept any consolation. "I don't care if it's not serious. I just hate seeing them together like that. She's my best friend, Jack. And now... I don't know what we are anymore."

Jack sighed again, understanding his brother’s pain but unsure how to fix it. “Look, Moose, I don’t have all the answers. But if you really care about her, you need to talk to her. Maybe she doesn’t even realize how much this is messing with you.”

Luke shook his head, too angry to think clearly. "What's the point? She's obviously into him, and I'm just... I don't know. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," Jack insisted. "You can't just sit here and let this eat you up from the inside. If you don't say anything, you'll regret it. Trust me, Moose"

Luke didn't respond, staring down at the coffee cup in his hands, his mind running a mile a minute. He knew Jack was right, but the thought of confronting Olivia--or worse, Trevor--was almost too much to bear.

Jack watched him for a moment longer before sighing and backing off. "Just think about it, okay? I'm here if you need to talk."

With that, Jack left the kitchen, leaving Luke alone with his thoughts. There was still anger and frustration building inside him, but now there was something else--an overwhelming feeling of sadness that made his entire body feel heavy. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. Would things with Olivia ever be the same? Was Jack right and Trevor just wanted a quick fuck? Why was this all so complicated?

~~

Jack had been wrong. Trevor was not looking for something short term with Olivia. And the next summer just proved that even more. It was almost impossible to ignore just how deeply Olivia and Trevor had fallen for each other. From the moment they arrived, they were inseperable. It was like they existed in their own little world, completely unaware of the world around them.

Every morning, Luke would find them wrapped up together on the porch, sharing a cup of coffee as they watched the sunrise. Olivia would sit on Trevor's lap, her arms draped around his neck, as they whispered to each other, their foreheads touching. It was almost as if they'd been superglued together, and it was beyond irritating,

But what really got under Luke's skin were the little things--like the way Trevor would brush a strand of hair behind Olivia's ear before leaning in to kiss her, or how Olivia's laugh seemed louder and brighter when she was with him. Even worse were the marks.

One afternoon, as they all lounged by the lake, Luke noticed a series of faint reddish marks on Olivia's neck when she pulled her hair up into a claw clip. Hickeys.

"Did ya have fun last night?" Jack teased, nudging Oli as they all sat on the dock.

She blushed, giving Jack a playful shove. "Shut up, Jack," she giggled, though she didn't seem embarassed--if anything, she looked pleased.

Trevor smirked, sliding his arm around Olivia's waist and pulling her closer. "Maybe a little too much fun," he joked, kissing her on the temple. Oli just laughed, leaning into him, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his chest.

Luke clenched his fists, staring out at the lake to avoid looking at the happy couple. The sight of them together, so openly affectionate, made him feel like was intruding on something private... something he desperately wished he could unsee, much like the kiss in the kitchen.

As the day went on, it only got worse. During lunch, Trevor fed Olivia bites of his sandwich, and she giggled like it was the most romantic thing in the world. Later, when they were all hanging out in the air conditioned living room, Olivia snuggled up against Trevor's side, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched a movie. Luke tried to focus on the screen, but all he could hear was the soft murmur of their voices as they whispered to each other, completely lost in their own conversation.

When Oli stood up to get a drink, Luke couldn't help but notice the way her shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing another set of hickeys trailing down her side. His jaw tightened, and he quickly looked away, trying to shake the image from his mind.

Late that night, the lake house was quiet, the only sounds coming from the gentle rustling of leaves outside and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors. Luke had finally managed to drift off to sleep when a noise jolted him awake—a muffled laugh, followed by a soft thud against the wall.

His heart sank as he realized the source of the sounds: the room next to his. Trevor’s room.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the noise, but it was impossible. The hushed giggles, the low murmur of Trevor’s voice, and Olivia’s breathy replies seeped through the thin walls, each sound hitting him like a slap in the face. Then, there was the unmistakable creak of the bed springs, and Luke felt like he was going to be puke.

Luke couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of everything he’d been holding in finally broke through, and he stormed out of his room, needing to get away from the gut-wrenching reality just a few feet away. He found Jack in the kitchen, grabbing a late-night snack, and without warning, the floodgates opened.

Jack turned to see Luke pacing back and forth, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. “What’s going on with you?” Jack asked, clearly concerned.

Luke stopped pacing and faced his older brother, his face twisted in anger. "You said last summer that it wasn't going to be long-term! That Trevor wasn't looking for anything serious, that he'd move on by now!" he burst out, his voice cracking.

Jack sighed, setting down the bag of chips he's been holding. "I didn't think it would be. I thought they'd have their fun, and it would fizzle out. But I was wrong, Luke. They're clearly serious about each other."

"Serious?" Luke echoed, his voice tinged in disbelief. "They're practically glued together, Jack! They're disgusting, and I don't get it. What does Olivia even see in him?!"

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, not sure how to respond. “Look, I know it sucks to watch them be all lovey-dovey, but Trevor’s a good guy. He makes her happy.”

"Happy?" Luke snapped. "What about me, Jack? I've known her my whole life, and now she's completely forgetten about me because of him. What does she see in Trevor that can't see in anyone else? What's so special about him?"

"Maybe it's just how he makes her feel. Maybe he's the one she needs right now. I don't know, Luke. But it's not like you can force her to feel differently."

"It's not fair! He's always been around, but now it's like he's taken her away from me. And I hate it. I hate seeing them together, hearing them through the damn walls. It's like I'm invisible to her now."

Jack frowned, unsure how to fix his brother's pain. "I get that it's hard, but you've gotta let it go. She's happy, and as much as it sucks, you've gotta accept it. Be there as her best friend. Not a jealous lover."

"I just don't know what he has that I don't."

"Sometimes, people just connect like that. It isn't always about who has known who the longest or who's been there for her through everything. It's about how he makes her feel right now."

Luke just shook his head, not sure how to reply. The thought of Olivia and Trevor being so, so deeply in love made him feel like he was the sickest he'd been in his life. But for Olivia, he'd have to push through.

~~

The following summer brought a strange quiet to the lake. Unlike previous years, Olivia wasn't spending every waking moment with the Hughes family. Instead, she kept to her parents' house next door, avoiding the Hughes' place all together.

Luke noticed her absence immediately. It was hard not to. The usual sounds of her laughter, the sight of her smiling, and the way she'd barge into their house unannouced were all missing. He'd hoped things would return to normal after the last summer, but he was wrong. He felt like he was a wrong a lot when it came to Olivia now.

Jack and Quinn had noticed too, exchanging concerned glances whenever Luke asked if they'd seen her. But Olivia remained elusive, keeping to herself and refusing to join them in any of their usual lake house activities.

Finally, Luke couldn't take it anymore. He needed to get to the bottom of Olivia's disappearance. He made his way to the Jones' cottage, knocking on the door with determination. When Olivia answered, her eyes were red, and she looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"Hey," Luke started softly. "Can we talk?"

She hestitated, but finally stepped to the side to let him in. They sat down, the silence between them heavy.

"I heard that you and Trevor broke up," he wasn't sure how to approach the subject.

She nodded, her hands suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the room. "Yeah... we did."

Luke waited for her to say more, but she didn't. "Why, Oli? What happened between you two?"

Olivia's face crumpled, and she bit her lip as if holding back tears. "He... he thought I was in love with someone else."

Luke's heart skipped a beat. Who could she possibly be in love with?

"What? Why would he think that?"

She shook her head, voice trembling. "I don't know. I tried to tell him it wasn't true, but he just... he didn't believe me. He said he couldn't be with someone who wasn't all in, who might have feelings for someone else."

"Do you?" he asked cautiously. "Have feelings for someone else, I mean?"

She looked away, wiping at her eyes. "It doesn't matter now, does it? Trevor and I are over."

Luke’s heart ached at her pain, and a surge of protectiveness washed over him. He wanted to ask more, to dig deeper into what she was feeling, but he could see how much it was hurting her to talk about it.

"You know we're here for you, right? No matter what," Luke said softly, reaching over to cover her hand with his.

"I know," she whispered. "I just need some space right now."

"Okay. Just... don't shut us out forever, alright? I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

"Thanks, Lu. I appreciate that. Especially after I've been such a shit friend."

"Any time, Oli. Any time."

~~

The next night, the Hughes' house was buzzing with laughter and conversation as the boys and few friends hung out on the deck. But Luke couldn't stop staring at the empty seat he'd made the boys save just in case Olivia decided to come over. He hadn't seen her since the day before, and his worry was growing.

Around midnight, the hangout started to wind down, and Luke decided to call it a night. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard the door creak open. Turning around, he saw Olivia stumbling in, her eyes glassy and movements unsteady.

"Olivia?" he called as he hurried back down the stairs.

She looked up at him with sadness and something he couldn't quite place--something desperate. "Luke," she slurred. "There you are. I've been looking for you."

Luke took in her disheveled appearance. Her hair was a mess, her clothes crumpled, and the scent of alcohol clung to her like a cloud. She was drunk, way more than he'd ever seen her.

"Oli, what're you doing here? You should be home, resting," he tried to lead her towards the door.

But she shook her head, pulling away from his grasp. "No, I don't want to be there. I don't want to be alone," her voice cracked. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. "Please, Luke... I need you."

Luke froze, his breath catching in his throat as Olivia leaned in closer, her lips inches from his. She was so close, and for a brief moment, the temptation was almost too much to resist. But then he saw the tears in her eyes, the way her hands trembled, and he knew it wasn't right.

"Oli, you're not okay," he stepped back, taking her hands in his. "You've had too much to drink. Let me take you home."

"You don't want me anymore, do you? Because I'm... used. I'm not good enough now."

"Olivia, no. That's not true. You're amazing and I-" he paused, thinking over his words. "I care about you so much, but this... this isn't the right time. You're hurting, and I don't want to take advantage of that."

Olivia's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry, Luke. I just... I don't know what to do anymore."

Luke pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close as he cried into her chest. "It's okay, Oli. I'm here for you, no matter what."

He hated seeing her so broken and lost. She needed time to heal, to find herself again. And he'd just have to be patient.

~~

Olivia woke up with a pounding headache and a foggy memory. She groaned, rubbing her temples as she tried to piece together the events of the previous night. Everything felt like a blur--a messy tangle of emotions, confusion, and too much alcohol.

She shuffled downstairs to the kitchen, hoping a cup of black coffee would clear her head. But as she sat down, a sense of unease settled in her stomach. Something had happened last night, something important maybe, but she couldn't quite grasp it.

But before she could dwell on it, there was a knock at the door. She frowned and set her mug down to answer it. She was surprised to find Luke on the other side, looking quite serious.

"Hey. Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," she replied. She watched as he walked into the living room, his hands shoved in his pockets, brow furrowed. "Luke, what's going on?"

"Oli, do you remember anything from last night?"

"Not really... I remember drinking a lot and... that's about it. Why? What happened?"

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You came over to our place. You were really upset and... you tried to, uh, make a move on me."

"I what?!"

"Yeah," Luke said, his tone gentle but firm. "You were really drunk. And I could tell you weren't in the right headspace, so I stopped you."

She felt her face heat up in embarrassment. "Oh my god, Luke, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't apolgize," he stepped closer. "You were hurting, and you needed someone. I just didn't want you to do anything you'd regret."

"But... why did I do that? I mean, why you?"

Luke hesitated, taking a deep breath. "Oli, I think it's time I'm honest with you. I've... had feelings for you for a long time. Probably longer than I even realized. But I didn't want to mess things up between us, so I never said anything. And then you and Z... I thought I'd lost my chance."

"Luke... I didn't know."

"I know," he said quietly. "And last night, when you came to me like that... it wasn't because you wanted me. It's because you were hurting, and I don't want to be the guy you turn to when you're upset."

"I thought... I thought you didn't want me because I'm 'used.' Because I've slept with Trev."

He gently lifted her chin so she could look at him. "That's not true, Oli. I've never thought of you that way. You deserve so much more than what Trevor gave you, and if I could be the one to make you happy, I would. But only if that's what you really want."

"Luke... I- I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he whispered. "Just... think about it. If you don't feel the same way, that's okay. But if you do... I'm here."

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of Luke's confession hanging in the air. Then, without thinking, Olivia closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was slow and tender, filled with all the emotions they'd both been holding back for so long. When they finally pulled away, Luke pressed his forehead to hers, both of them gasping for air.

"Oli," his voice thick with emotion. "I've wanted this for so long."

"Me too," she whispered back, her hands clutching onto the fabric of his shirt. "I just didn't realize it till now."

Olivia gently tugged him towards her bedroom. Luke hesitated for a second, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, her heart racing. "I'm sure."

And with that, they fell into bed together, finally giving in to the feelings they'd both kept hidden for so long.

~~

Luke and Olivia finally crossed the line they had danced around for years, everything felt different. The sun streamed through the curtains of her bedroom, Olivia stirred awake, feeling content. She must've finally gotten the rest she needed. The warmth of Luke's presence beside her was undeniable. He was already up, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to hers as he tied up his sneakers.

"Morning," he turned to shoot her a soft smile.

"Morning," Olivia replied, sitting up and pulling the covers up around her.

"Are you okay?" he could sense her hestiation a mile away.

"Yeah, I think so."

"We can talk about this later. Just... take it easy today, alright? No more drinking."

She nodded and he walked over to press a kiss on her forehead before he left.

"I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, sure," she forced a smile. Luke lingered for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then just nodded and left, closing the door softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Olivia sank back into the pillows, her mind racing. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong--terribly wrong. The more she thought about it, the more her insecurities began to take hold. She had slept with Trevor, Luke’s friend, and now she had slept with Luke. What did that make her? A puck bunny? The thought made her stomach turn. She didn’t want to be seen that way, didn’t want to be the girl who bounced between hockey players, even if Luke was different, even if she had real feelings for him.

By the time afternoon had rolled around, Olivia was overwhelmed by doubt. Every time her phone buzzed with a new text from Luke, she ignored it, burying herself in the puzzle her parents had started. She couldn't face him when she felt like this.

Luke was growing concerned. The day before had been a turning point, but now he was being ignored again. Her silence was gnawing at him. He sent another text, that she ignored, and decided to make his way to hers.

He knocked on the door, just as he had the day before. Olivia answered, looking even more stressed than she had been.

"Luke, I..."

"Whatever it is just tell me... please."

"I just... I don't want people thinking I'm some sort of... you know... puck bunny."

"What? Olivia, nobody would ever think that about you."

"But they will, Luke! I was with Trevor, and now we're...you know. People are going to judge, they always do."

He placed a hand on her arm, "You're not a puck bunny, Olivia. You're everything to me. I don't care what anyone else thinks. And if they do judge, that's their problem. Not ours."

"You really mean that?"

"Of course I do," he replied without hesitation. "You're not just someone I'm hooking up with. You're my best friend, and I want you to be my... girlfriend."

Her fears melted away almost instantly. "I... I want that too."

Luke pulled her into a tight hug. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go. Ever."

As they held each other, Olivia couldn't believe how perfect things felt. Life wasn't easy, but with Luke by her side, anything was possible.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Buttons

The request from @toomanytookas: I have such fond memories of my grandmother teaching me how to sew on her old Singer. Obviously a WILDLY different context for a million different reasons, but I love the idea of of Pin showing Joel how to sew or just explaining the general mechanics of using the machine. Maybe some physical guidance/touching a la the pottery scene in Ghost?

If you'd prefer to play with other characters, it would be sweet to see her teach Ellie now that she's working at the shop and I imagine she'd be curious about it!

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 900 words | warnings: rated M for dirty thoughts and slightly dirty talk, outrageous flirting, topless Joel Miller | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

‘Nice tits, Miller!’

Joel chokes on his corn chowder as Tommy’s voice rings loud and obnoxious in the half-empty cafeteria, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he makes himself comfortable opposite him, tray hitting the table with a clatter.

‘Seriously though, put them away before Maria sees you. This is a family place, y’know.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘Shut up, jackass.’

Tommy studies the familiar green plaid shirt on his brother that is sitting open to the sternum. ‘Buttons fell off, huh?’

‘Aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Pin gettin’ a bit rough with ya?’

Joel splutters, raising his fork in what he hopes is a menacing reproach. ‘Hey!’

‘Just jokin’, big bro. And no judgement if she is.’

He scoffs. ‘This is gettin’ real weird, Tommy -’

‘Why don’t you ask her to sew ’em back for you?’

‘She ain’t my seamstress.’

‘She’s a seamstress. And your girlfriend.’

Joel snorts. ‘You ask Maria to do all your chores for you?’

Tommy shrugs and replies around a mouthful of mashed potato. ‘Ask Pin to teach you then. What's that they say about fishermen and fishin’?’

He has a point, Joel has to concede. That’s how he ends up at your studio that afternoon, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you on the sewing machine. He likes the steady, mechanical staccato of the needle, the whirring wheel and the metallic squeak of the pedal as your hands and feet all move in almost nonchalant choreography.

He knows that under that ease lies years of experience, and there’s an understatedness about your movements that makes him stop and stare every time you're at the antique sewing machine. 

He waits patiently for a lull, not wanting to disrupt your rhythm. When you pause to inspect the stitching you’ve been working on, Joel knocks on the doorframe. 

His lips twitch when you startle, eyes wide as your head whips around at him, and it brings him right back to the day you meet, just a few feet from where he stands now.

But then you break into a wide smile. ‘What are you doing sneaking up on me, Joel Miller?’

He closes the distance with three steps, bending down to drop a kiss on your lips. ‘Just wanted to say hello - and to ask for a favour.’

You stare up at him, admiring the way a stray lock curls over his eyes. ‘What is it?’

Joel tugs on the front of his shirt. ‘Was wonderin’ if you can teach me how to sew my buttons back on.’

You eye his neckline, which is suspiciously low. ‘I thought you were just trying something new,’ you quip.

Arching an eyebrow, he asks, ‘Is it workin’ for you, sweetheart?’

Hooking your finger into the open V of the shirt, you grin. ‘I’m not complaining, but it doesn’t hurt to fix it. Take it off.’

Joel huffs, joking, ‘Buy me dinner first, at least?’

You watch his fingers push the little buttons out of the holes, baring broad chest and freckles with every downward inch. You hum when he gets to the bottom of the shirt and it hangs open, nothing but bare skin under it. ‘No undervest?’

‘Feel like showin’ off today,’ he winks and disrobes with a smooth roll of his shoulders.

You can’t help it, your breath catches - at the strong shoulders, the soft belly, the way he has one hand on his hip - and by the self-satisfied curl of his lips, you know he knows.

Clearing your throat, you stand and take his shirt from his grasp, the warmth of the fabric comforting in your hands. ‘Come sit over here.’

‘We’re not using the machine?’

‘Not for sewing buttons,’ you reply, opening a little box to find matching ones for his shirt.

‘Okay, step one,’ you seat yourself next to him and hand him the supplies. ‘Thread the needle.’

The thread looks more like a blade of the most delicate hair in between his thumb and index finger, and the needle comically small. But his hands are remarkably steady, and he surprises you by nimbly pushing the thread through the eye on his second try.

‘Pull the thread through and keep going,’ you instruct, snipping it off with scissors when you’re satisfied with the length. ‘Now, we need to knot the end. Loop the thread around your finger a couple of times, pinch it with your thumb and pull the end through.’

He does so with aplomb, and you remark, more to yourself than anything. ‘Your fingers are really dexterous for their size.’

Joel wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘You should know that first hand, hmm?’

A comment like that would’ve had you ducking your head a few months ago. But now, you narrow your eyes at him in playful admonishment. ‘So full of yourself, Joel Miller.’

Dragging your chair towards him, he leans in and murmurs against your ear. ‘Ain’t you the one who was full of me last night -’

Heat rushes to your cheek as he noses the sensitive skin behind your ear. ‘Joel, I thought you wanted to fix your shirt -’

Pushing the needle into a pin cushion, he shrugs and pulls you into his lap with a smirk, his skin hot under your touch.

‘Luckily, I don’t really need a shirt for what I want to do right now, sweetheart.’

More notes: Thank you for this adorable prompt @toomanytookas! I hope you don't mind that I tweaked it a little bit. I love that you have such beautiful memories with your grandma. Mine used to sew and do cross-stitch, I miss her so much 🥹

[anantaru]

ARE YOU DEAF, OR JUST STUPID?

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — visiting a club at night wasn't something scaramouche would normally agree on, but when someone asks if you're single all of a sudden, the night appeared to become all the more eventful.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 800 words

— ꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & crack, he's a jealous man with a dream, gn! reader

the hefty, immersive atmosphere encompassing your body was erratic, shining and full of lucent light.

you can perceive the differences in scents colliding with each other in the humid air of the underground club you were currently visiting as your boyfriend scaramouche was anything else but delighted to be here.

at least you're with him, but he simply doesn't get the appeal of being ringed in between infuriating, boring, pesky little humans having fun.

indeed, he has been playing the grumpy card for the majority of the time, fairly speaking, 'grumpy' was a comical understatement.

most of all, he cannot even convince himself to go out, don't even mention manipulating himself into thinking he likes it. because what's there to like? the noisy crowd or the blaring music blasting into his poor ears with people wildly shaking their bodies to the pesky tune, including you— who thankfully was only having eyes for him, also gleefully dancing and swaying your body as your boyfriend only watched;

stone-cold features not moving a muscle, unbothered and ready to go home again.

but then, the atmosphere changes when you feel someone tap on your shoulder, "sorry if this is weird." you flinch immediately by surprise, noticing the man behind you as you pull your head aside to face him.

"but are you single pretty?"

ugh, double ugh.

yet if you were being quite honest with yourself now, you're already laughing and were feeling just a little bad for the random guy asking you such a question not knowing what storm he had just conjured— because he does not even see that scaramouche was also standing next to you, mouth tight and swallowing, clearly not pleased by that insignificant insect, as he called him, bothering his partner while having fun.

"what?" scaramouche doesn't waste a single breath and spits out immediately, right away cutting you off the conversation entirely and inserting himself into the middle of you and the stranger so he couldn't bother you anymore, even if he tried. "what did you say?"

"w-wait, who are you?" the stranger forces a smile on his tensed face, strikingly irritated.

"are you deaf?" well, again, to make things clear, you should maybe pray to the archons now, clearly not for your boyfriend but for the odd man there. if it wasn't this hilarious. but you silently tug on scaramouche's arm to signal him that it was in fact, okay, and you could simply handle this alone, but you would also lie to yourself if you'd say that it wasn't cute, quite charming too, of him to be this animated, let alone protective right now.

scaramouche feels his throat tighten but doesn't let any anger run down, it's pointless and he would only make people notice him even more. "i don't want any troubles." the man silences down, feeling a warm, embarrassing hotness on his neck and his shoulders shrug inwards, because how possibly couldn't he react that way?

presently, he was being watched up and down, up and down, closely, with those indigo eyes boring sharp, burning daggers into his flesh and bones. "then you better leave."

"because there's no one single here, leave." scaramouche takes a step forward, "do you i have to spell it out for you or are you just that stupid?"

you could've sworn you heard a little 'no' leaving past the guys lips, yet the irksome stranger ultimately decided to take a haste leave instead, thankfully, but not before awkwardly glancing towards you and back to scaramouche, grinning through his tensed mouth, as if not knowing how to possibly tackle a situation like that, ever.

"you didn't have to do this, you know." you sneakily whisper into scaramouche's ear, "but then." and you begin to ponder dramatically in front of him, wrapping your arms around his body as you perceived his muscles lose on tension, "i wouldn't have been able to see this cute side of you."

what followed next was quite a sight to behold— that sicken, repulsed look on scaramouche face was award worthy, the best one in all of teyvat, but you loved that about him and place a soft, pleasing kiss on his parted lips before he was able to say anything back.

"i'm not cute." yet his response brushes over your lips regardless, his warm breath coating your own while he leaned into your warmth, gracefully accepting your candied kisses that were his treasured favorites.

"lets leave this place before i track that sucker down."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[blindmagdalena]

Hide and Seek

18+ 6.2k homelander x f!reader. predator/prey, consensual non-consent, dirty talk, cockwarming, outdoor sex, oral sex, there's a lot. check AO3 for full tag list. shout out to @mari-thesimp and @whatevermonkey for the prompts that inspired this fic!

Nothing could have prepared you for the reality of this moment. The chase had sounded like such lighthearted fun in theory. A jaunt through the forest with your superpowered boyfriend never far behind, pursuing you through the woods. Upping the ante by agreeing to do it at night seemed—at the time—like simply removing the training wheels. You were wrong.

The pound of your heart nearly drowns out the sound of branches and woodland debris snapping under foot as you run blindly through the woods, the moon above barely serving illumination through the dense tree canopy. What you hadn’t realized at the start of all this was that your body wouldn’t know the difference between running for your life for fun, and running for your life for real.

A blast as sharp as a gunshot whips by overhead, bowing the trees with the force of it and startling a scream out of you. The startle causes you to lose your footing, and your momentum is too great to catch yourself. You hurdle forwards, rolling end over end into the mess of brambles, landing flat on your back, gasping for breath. You hear the thud of something landing in the distance. You lay there a moment, brain frantically recalibrating while you stare up at the dense tree cover, trying to catch your breath. That’s when a new sound cuts through the ambient sounds of the forest; someone whistling a cheery little melody. Shortly after that, you begin to hear footsteps. “You made it further than I thought you would,” Homelander calls into the night, his chipper tone replacing that jaunty whistle. “But c’mon. Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

You scramble to your feet, bracing against a tree to look wildly around yourself. It’s too dark to even make out his silhouette, but what you see instead turns your insides to ice. Maybe twenty feet away, two glowing red eyes cut through the black of the night, peering around until, abruptly, they lock onto you. The glow of them is just enough to illuminate the way Homelander’s lips pull into a sharp smile. “Got’cha.” Immediately, you take off running. There’s no thought behind it, nothing but the pure animalistic panic to escape. He may be the love of your life, but that was terrifying. The dense treeline breaks into a clearing, and you run for the path of least resistance, even as your muscles scream. A small hill near a babbling stream catches your eye, and though every breath you suck back makes your lungs burn, you push yourself to it, desperate for a place to hide. You skid to a stop just beyond the hill, and then hurl yourself back against it, clamping both hands over your mouth, screwing your eyes shut as you desperately try to quiet yourself.

The agreement was that Homelander would not utilize his x-ray vision. Your only hope was that the sound of the stream might mask the thunder of your heart beating in your chest. In this state of flight, you find it impossible to gauge the passage of time. It might be seconds that pass, it might be minutes. You can’t fathom it. Either way, it isn’t long before you begin to hear heavy booted footsteps crunching through the underbrush. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," Homelander's voice rings out, that wicked smile audible in his tone. "You can come easy, or you can come hard. You're mine either way." You bite into your own hand, tucking yourself further in against the grassy mound. His words hurl you into a dizzying haze of panic and excitement, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting, unsure if you should be running from or towards the honied voice calling you from the shadows. Abruptly, the sound of footsteps stops, and you are left with nothing but the thrum of your heartbeat, and the burble of the stream.Time passes, but still you hear nothing. Tentatively, you peer out around the edge of the mound, into the clearing where you heard him approaching. Seeing nothing, you cautiously rise to your feet and crane to get a better look. Empty. There isn’t a trace of him anywhere. There’s more light in the clearing, lending a touch to your bravery. You don’t need the cue of his eyes to see him here, but the fact he’s disappeared somewhere into the treeline worries you. You glance down to the river. Perhaps your sound-based subterfuge was successful, and he believes you kept moving forward. You take the opportunity to backtrack, and hopefully throw him off your trail. After all, if you get back to the cabin by yourself, you win this little game.

Not wanting to run the risk of him hearing you, you pick up a modest trot back towards the thicket you had emerged from. Reaching out to brace your hand on a passing tree, you scream when a crimson gloved hand closes suddenly around your wrist, another hand catching you around the waist and yanking you backwards, lifting you clean off your feet, and up into the air with him. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts. “Not so quick. We haven’t even gotten to enjoy the view together yet,” he says, his words warm huffs in your ear, prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. You thrash against him with everything you have in you, but you may as well be pounding against pure steel. He’s unyielding. Homelander drops back down onto the ground, and with unbelievable ease, spins you around to pin your back against the tree. Slotting his thigh between your legs, Homelander lifts you with just that. Effortlessly catching both of your wrists in a single hand, he traps them up above your head. He leans forward, his knee braced against the tree. “There’s my girl,” he purrs, lifting a hand to stroke your cheek. Any other day, you would lean into it. The rumble of his voice when he calls you his never fails to make you melt. Right now, however, the two of you are playing a game, and you aren’t going to be the one to ruin it.

You yank your face away from his hand, leaning as far as you can to the side. “Let me go,” you gasp, still thoroughly out of breath. “Mm, nope, no. That… That I don’t think I’ll ever do,” he says, catching your jaw tight between his leather clad fingers, yanking you back to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes, which flare a dim crimson. “You’re all mine, sweetheart.” Homelander kisses you hard, swallowing up the cry you give. You nearly succumb, you almost kiss him back before you remember yourself. Instead, you twist as violently as you can in his grasp, trying anything you can to gain leverage, but nothing works. He has you lifted off your feet, and he’s pressed in too close for you to utilize your legs against him. Meanwhile, he relishes your struggle. You can feel him smiling against your lips, followed by the hot wet press of his tongue. You yield to him only for the opportunity to bite down hard on the appendage. It’s soft beneath your teeth, but it doesn’t give. There’s nothing you could do that would damage him.

Homelander hums a delighted little noise, breaking the kiss. His smile is like that of a wolf, fangs and all. “Now you’re really getting me excited,” he says, punctuating it with a slow grind up between your legs, startling a moan out of you. He lets go of your face in favor of dragging his hand down your body, cupping your breast through your shirt and squeezing, making you keen. “I was gonna be a gentleman and take you back to the cabin, but if you’re gonna behave like a fucking animal–” he says, his rich, molasses sweet voice veering into a rough growl as he rips your shirt wide open, exposing your chest to the night chill, “–then I will gladly fuck you in the dirt like one.” Struggling against him only intensifies the friction of his thigh against your pussy, your clit throbbing against firm muscle behind the confines of your pants. You turn your head away as he kisses down your throat, wringing a gasp out of you when he bites down. You feel him chuckle against your skin, dragging his tongue over the stinging mark, his soft hair tickling along your jaw. “So, what’ll it be? You gonna behave for me?” He asks, drawing back to meet your stare. The question makes you ache, worsens the throb of your clit against his thigh. His perfect blonde locks are set askew now, giving him an untamed look. You feel as wild as he appears. Heart thundering in your chest, you make a play without a second thought, and you spit in his face, spattering the corner of his mouth and his cheek.

For a split second, Homelander looks sincerely shocked, his eyes wide. Slowly, he begins to laugh. The sound of it rolls chills all the way down your spine. You’ve never heard him sound this menacing. His tongue darts out to lick away the mess of it from the corner of his mouth. Pulling one of your hands down from above your head, he uses your palm to wipe it clean, turning his face to nuzzle into your hand, despite how you try to close it from him. When he looks at you, his pupils have reduced the blue of his eyes to a thin ring, making his eyes look almost completely black. His sharp grin has turned him wholly into a predator. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he says, voice pitched low. Faster than you can track, he dips down and hauls you up over his shoulder with ease, that abysmal eagle pauldron digging into your side as he carries you back into the clearing. You ball up your fists and pound on his back with every ounce of strength you have in you, twisting against his grip on your legs, but nothing fazes him. “Scream all you want, sweetheart,” he laughs, giving your ass an indulgent smack. “No one to hear it but me.” Homelander hurls you forward, and though you hit the ground much more gently than you braced for, the motion is no less disorienting. Sprawled on your back, you move to roll over, but a sudden weight on your thigh stops you. You look down and see his muddy red boot pressed firmly there, pinning you. Above, you hear the familiar sound of him unzipping his pants. Once his cock is free, Homelander grips it with a heated sigh, staring down at you through heavily lidded eyes. His lips are parted, and you can see the sharp edges of his canines glinting in the light of the moon. “Look at you, such a fucking mess,” he says, pumping his cock in slow, even slides of his hand. He’s already fully hard, the engorged head of his cock leaking drops of precome with every stroke. You can feel how bad he wants you in the way he watches you, the way his breath hitches. He looks like a wild animal drooling over a fresh cut of meat.

You writhe beneath him, but the weight of his boot alone is more than enough to keep you in place. “Please,” you whine, fighting to keep the desire out of your voice. “Please don’t, please, let me go, I won’t tell anyone–” “Ssshhhhh, shhh,” Homelander hushes, lips quirked in a lopsided smile. “I know you won’t.” Reaching out, Homelander bends at the waist and lifts his boot off of you just before he catches a handful of your hair, maneuvering you up onto your knees. The way he handles you is exceedingly gentle. He has no need for rough or forceful movements when his strength can bend steel. You have no choice but to move with him. “I’m gonna give you one chance to redeem yourself, alright?” Holding you steady, Homelander guides you to his cock, arching your head back with his grip in your hair. “Open up, pretty girl,” he croons, the only warning he gives before shoving his cock between your lips, smearing precome along your tongue, all the way to the back of your throat. The salt-sex taste of him is immediately intoxicating, and though you gag at the sudden intrusion, you suck him down without meaning to, reflexively swallowing. “Ffffuck, ah, hah, that’s it. Mmm, such a natural little cockslut. Taste good, sweetheart?” He asks, positively destroying you. He’s never called you anything like that before, but the ease with which he says it now makes it sound like the hundredth time. You want to hear it again. You make a sound that’s close to a moan, pushing your hands against his thighs, digging your nails into the padding of his suit. Letting go of his cock, he cups the side of your face, and picks up a steady rhythm with his hips, fucking your mouth shallowly.

With his thumb, Homelander caresses your lips, following the line of them where they stretch wide around his dick. He’s entranced by you, watching with endless intensity. Your jaw is slack, drool coating his cock as he fucks your mouth. “Ohhh, fuck. Fuck, look at you. Wanted it all along, didn’t you? I can smell your pussy, baby. You’re so fucking wet for me.” He fucks deeper, and you stifle the gag this time. Your eyes well with tears that collect on your lashes, weighing them down against your cheeks. The weight of his cock on your tongue feels so good, you lose yourself briefly, forgetting that you’re supposed to be putting up a fight. This time, you let yourself gag when he pushes in deep, and you try to pull off of him, fighting back against the hand he’d flattened at the back of your skull. “No, no, sshh, not yet. Almost there,” he says, tightening his grip in your hair, his voice fraying as he begins to come apart. He starts thrusting faster, adjusting his hands to hold either side of your head, using you so thoroughly that you feel like a fucking toy in his hands. Your breaths become shallower, short little gasps between the frenzied snaps of his hips. “Aaalmost there. That’s it, take it, taking it so fuckin’ good. Knew you could, baby.” Between the praise and lack of air, you’re starting to feel lightheaded. You’re not fighting against him anymore, but instead gripping his thighs for dear life, eyes rolling back into your skull. You feel like you’re floating in and out of your physical body, barely tethered to reality.

Homelander comes with a choked-off noise, shoving you all the way down onto his cock. You don’t even taste the come, you just feel the heavy pulses of his cock against your tongue, the heat of it sliding down your throat, warming you from the inside out. Just when you’re starting to feel like you might pass out, Homelander pulls out of your mouth, holding you as you cough wetly. You gulp down breath after breath, gradually coming down from your delirium. Homelander strokes your hair through it, breathing heavily through his own aftershocks. “Now there’s a redemption arc,” he says through a breathy little chuckle. He lets go of your hair so that he can tuck himself loosely back into his pants. Before you can get any ideas, Homelander knocks you backwards, visibly pleased by the easy way you sprawl out on your back, still dazed. Crouching down, he gets a good grip on the hips of your pants, and with a swift outward pull on either side, rips them clean apart, along with your underwear, leaving just the scraps of them hanging off your thighs, fully exposing your pelvis. Inhaling deeply, Homelander’s smile is downright predatory. “My turn,” he says, hooking your legs up over his shoulders, leaving just your upper back touching the ground below. He takes hold of your hips, and lifts you up to his mouth. Closing his eyes, he moans like a man mad with hunger as he drags his tongue through the slick mess of your cunt, closing his lips around your clit.

You arch your back with a cry, pushing into the wet heat of his mouth. He’s ruthless in the way he feasts on you, plunging his tongue into you and lapping up every drop he can coax out. When he’s gotten all he can, he goes back up to your clit and sucks, swirling his tongue over it, reducing you to a whimpering mess. He laps at your clit until there’s more sweet slick for him to drink up from your pussy, fucking you with his tongue, demanding more. Homelander gets his wish when you come, an explosion of pleasure that radiates through your entire body. Your thighs lock up on either side of his head, squeezing him tight, but all he cares about is the rush of your release that spills down his chin, wetting him so thoroughly the excess drips onto the ground below. He swallows every drop that he can. He groans with it, licking eagerly between the quivering lips of your cunt. Your orgasms have always driven him insane, the flood of endorphins making you taste fucking exquisite. Suddenly the ground falls out beneath you as Homelander stands up, leaving you hanging in his grasp as he devours you, your moans of pleasure rapidly dissolving into broken sobs, overwhelmed with sensation. “S-stop,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his wrists. “Too much, please, it’s too much.”

Homelander’s only response is a rough little shake of his head, nuzzling into your pussy, lapping up the aftermath of your orgasm and rapidly hurdling you hot and heavy towards another one, your hips convulsing against him entirely of their own accord. “Please, oh god, please stop!” You cry, voice raw. You hang helplessly in his grip, squirming with nowhere to go. He’s got you dangling precariously on the razor's edge between pleasure and pain, the sensations so intense that they almost burn. “S-stop! It’s too much! Please!” You have a safe word, you and he both know you could save yourself if you wanted to, but the reality is that you don’t. It feels good to beg for what you know he will not give you. You’re starting to feel dizzy, hanging upside down, gasping for breath as he continues to gorge himself on you. He drags his tongue up and down, drawing deft figure eights before sucking your clit, pressing his tongue firmly to it. You come again, and this time the experience is so overwhelming, you scream.

Falling limp, all you can muster are weak, oversensitized noises. Your body spasms involuntarily while Homelander licks you through the aftermath of your orgasm, milking every last drop of it. He finishes with a refreshed, wet exhale, audibly licking his lips of the mess while you dangle in his grasp. Gingerly, he lowers you back down onto the grassy forest floor, slipping out from between your legs to loom over you. Your brain is so addled, it takes you ages to realize that he’s kissing you, licking your own flavor into your mouth. You whimper when you feel his ungloved fingers brush your overstimulated cunt, the contact making you jolt. He clicks his tongue softly. “Look what you did,” he murmurs between kisses, plunging his fingers into you, despite your weak protest. You’re so wet, the slide of them is a frictionless ache. You whine into the press of his lips. “You went and got me hard again,” he sighs, as if you’ve inconvenienced him. “Now I have to fuck your pretty pussy.”

Homelander’s fingers pump in and out of you, the sound of it obscene and wet. Your breath hitches, and you try to protest, but his gloved hand falls over your lips, silencing you.

“Shhh, shh. Save it, sweetheart. Save it for my cock.” His fingers sink in deep, and your lashes flutter, eyes nearly rolling back into your skull. Already, you’re aching to feel him deeper. All you can do is whimper into the warm leather of his glove, squirming under the weight of his hold while his fingers work you open. While it’s a reprieve for your thoroughly used clit, the expert way he crooks his fingers inside you already has you fighting the climb of another orgasm. So much so that when he slips his fingers out, you whine, the sound of it bordering on a sob. Nothing happens for the next couple of seconds. Uncertain, you open your eyes, and find Homelander staring down at you. There is a slight tenseness to his expression, an expectation you can see in his gaze as you meet it. His hand is still over your mouth, but his other hand has settled on your thigh, thumb stroking your bare skin in minute movements. You can see the question written in his eyes clear as day; You okay?

The way he looks at you settles something warm deep in your core, chasing the night chill and leaving only the heat between your bodies. You break character for just a second, and give him a slight nod. In an instant, Homelander flips like a switch back into a stranger, the change subtle and yet glaringly obvious to you. You gasp when he pulls his hand from your mouth to flip you over, the smell of fresh grass pungent as he pushes your head down, lifting your ass up into the air. “That’s better,” he purrs, effortlessly slipping back into character. The cold, dangerous edge to his tone makes your stomach clench in a giddy blend of anxiety and excitement. With one hand braced on the back of your head, Homelander grips his cock in the other, and guides it to the soaked, velvety lips of your pussy. He drags the head of his cock up and down, smearing it through the wet mix of his saliva and your own slick. You jerk involuntarily when he rubs it against your sensitive clit, whimpering.

You feel overworked, but Homelander has made it clear he’s only just getting started. Slowly but surely, he opens you up on the thick head of his cock, moaning a low cuss under his breath. His powers protect him from pain, but not pleasure, and you’re not the only one affected by the aftermath of your release. Regardless, he moves his bare hand to your hip, and holds you steady as he sinks the rest of the way into you in one slow, agonizingly good slide, finally reaching that aching itch deep inside you. “Nnnngh, please,” you moan, screwing your eyes tightly shut. “Please what?” Homelander prompts, giving a deep little thrust that startles another pitchy sound out of you. “Go on, beg for it. I want to hear you beg for my cock like a good little slut,” he says, the low snarl of his voice–his words–paired with the heat and weight of him inside you making you delirious. He moves his hand from your hip to your clit, the wet slide of his fingers making you cry out, writhing against him. He rocks you back on his cock, fucking right into your cervix. “No sense denying it now. So goddamn wet for me. You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked like a cheap whore. Beg. Beg me to fuck you stupid.”

Whatever few strands you had left tethering you snap. The degradation, the truth in his words, the transcendent agony of pleasure taken too far all tip you over the edge of sanity and reason. Shame and arousal burn you in equal measure. “Please fuck me stupid,” you obediently beg, tears gathering in your eyes not from pain, but sheer overwhelm. You barely get the words out. Homelander starts to fuck you in earnest, groaning at your plea, at the complete crumble of your resolve. “Use me.” The noise Homelander makes at that is animalistic, caught somewhere between a groan and a growl. He shifts his hand from your head to your shoulder and grips tight, gloved fingers biting into the meat of you as he yanks you back onto his cock, picking up a relentless rhythm that punches the air right out of your lungs with every snap of his hips. All the while, his fingers grind against your clit with every thrust, surging you up towards the release previously abandoned.

“Fuck,” Homelander rasps, practically trembling with restraint. Despite the brutal way he’s fucking you, you know it’s nothing compared to what he could do. You can feel pressure building rapidly between your thighs, each thrust like the strike of a match inside you, igniting more and more heat. You can’t move, pinned between his hand on your shoulder and the crack of his hips against your ass. All you can do is endure him as your orgasm builds, whatever scarce breaths you can manage to inhale leave you as sharp little whimpers. “Don’t fight it. Feels good, I know it does. You’re taking me so good. Fucking made for me. C’mon, do it. Let me feel you come on my cock.” Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice as wave after wave of mind blowing pleasure rolls through you. You hear Homelander give a choked off noise as he fucks you through it, your cunt seizing around him so tightly it catches him off guard. He doesn’t stop, instead moving faster, reducing you to a keening mess, limp in the grass. He uses you until on a final thrust, you feel him still, followed by a rush of heat so intense it nearly feels a burn inside you. Your whole body shudders, and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all.

Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of Homelander pressed against your back, sinking down against you, grounds you. You whisper the safeword you’ve been diligently holding onto, and just like that, the game is over. Homelander pushes a hand through your hair, kissing a trail from your neck to your ear, gently adjusting your head on the ground. He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth, bent over you, the wet weight of his cock still buried deep and warm inside you. He’s panting softly in your ear between kisses, the breaths catching every so often, still reeling from his own release.

Tenderly, he lifts off of you, and withdraws from inside you, hissing a soft breath as he does. The mess he left inside you trails hot, wet streaks down your thighs. You wince at the loss of him, nearly collapse without his hands on you, but he holds you steady with a hand on your hip while he adjusts himself.

You’re practically dead weight as he rolls you over, hovering over you with a hand in the grass, next to your head. You smile up at him, lazy and still dazed. He returns it, the corners of his eyes crinkling generously as he strokes your cheek with his bare knuckles, analyzing your expression. “Was I good?” He asks, the tone of his voice leagues and miles away from what it had been. He sounds tentative now, curious, a little hopeful. “Good?” You echo, borderline offended he would use such a meager word to explain the most intense sexual experience of your life. “That was… you were… amazing,” you tell him breathlessly, mustering the strength to push a hand into his mussed hair, your lids feeling heavy as you blink. “I can’t feel my legs, and I think you bruised my cervix,” you admit, to which he looks sheepish, but you continue, “And I’ve never felt more incredible in my life.”

Homelander visibly preens at that, his eyes narrowing, lips curving into a small smile. He leans in to nuzzle at your neck, inhaling deeply. You offer a few more strokes through his hair, but the muscles in your arm protest enough that you drape it over his neck instead, sighing. He takes that as his cue to scoop you up into his arms, your limbs dangling like cooked noodles. He floats to his feet, settling back down on the ground with you nestled snug against his chest. “C’mon,” he says quietly, kissing your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” ~~~~~~ Back at the cabin, Homelander is quick to start a hot bath running. The only garment of yours to survive was your bra, but even then, you and it are thoroughly grass strained. Homelander helps you sink into the oversized jacuzzi bath, chuckling at the exaggerated moan you give as the heat washes over you. It feels like heaven on your aching legs. The water sloshes to and fro as Homelander joins you, sliding up to you right away. Baths have always been both of your preferred methods of aftercare, where you can recover from his strength and he can luxuriate in this intimate form of pampering. Automatically, Homelander pulls you in to straddle his lap, the water making you both feel weightless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you go about wetting his hair, massaging his scalp. He moans when you begin to work in the shampoo next, dragging your nails all the way down to the back of his neck. He’s much leaner without the suit. You sweep your hands down his shoulders, following the trail of wiry muscle to his back. His body relaxes gradually beneath your touch, breathy little sighs escaping him. He makes you feel like you’re playing an instrument, and you know precisely where to touch to draw out the right note. Neither of you speak much during the bath. Your limbs are heavy, muscles tired, and the narrow space between your bodies feels too quiet and intimate for words.

You take your time conditioning his hair, and he wrings soft moans from you when he massages wash into your shoulders, mindful of how they ache. He’s deft with his hands, impeccably aware of his strength. It thrills you a little every time you remember how different he was in the woods, how wild and brutal he had felt. Once you’re both clean and satisfied, the bed calls your name as hypnotically as any siren. You’re the first to slip under the covers, immediately relieved to be off of your feet, your legs still shaky. Homelander follows shortly after. He’s always been clingy, but tonight especially, he’s practically glued to you. When he slides into bed, he doesn’t cuddle in next to you, but instead lays himself over you, nestling between your legs so that he can rest his head on your chest. You smile down at him. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” he rumbles, moving his hand to rest near his face, just over the beat of your heart.

Silence hangs heavily in the air. Sensing there’s more to it, you press, “Do you want to talk about tonight?”

Homelander is quiet for a moment longer. “You were scared.”

“Being chased was scary, yes,” you admit, combing your fingers through his hair. “That was the intention, though.”

“Were you scared of me?”

You pause. There’s something vulnerable in his voice—anxiety, perhaps—that he’s halfheartedly trying to mask, but you see through it. You give yourself time, wanting to answer the question with the thought it deserves, but Homelander doesn’t take the silence well. He lifts his head to scrutinize your expression, brows pinched. “You were scared of me.”

“You scared me, but I wasn’t afraid of you,” you correct him, settling your hand over top of his. “I liked it. In the same way I like movies that make me scream, or roller coasters. You scared me, and I loved it,” you say, bringing up both hands to cup his face, emphasizing your words by pulling him into a kiss. He moves easily, pushing into the kiss, needy for the assurance you offer. Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you ask him, “Did you like it?”

Homelander licks his lips, sliding his arm under you as he settles back in against your chest. “Yeah. It was… fun. Raw. I didn’t know you could act like that. Might have to get you a role in Vought’s next production,” he says, giving your collarbone a playful little nuzzle. “No thanks, I’d rather be waterboarded,” you reply with a laugh, earning a low chuckle from him. You stroke him from the crown of his head all the way down to the base of his neck, and then back up. “I’m glad you had fun. I know that I was asking a lot of you with it.” He’s quiet for a moment, head resting heavy on your chest. He rubs his cheek against your skin. “I really liked it. But if it goes too far, and you see something in me that you don’t like, and I see you scared of me, even when we’re not playing, it…” the sentence trails off. You feel his grip around you tighten reflexively, and you can only imagine what awful scenario he’s playing in his mind. “John,” you call gently, though your tone is firm, catching his attention immediately. He tips his head back to look up at you. “I promise you, there is nothing you would do to me that could change the way I feel about you. I love you. I worship you, John. That’s what love means to me. Reverence. You didn’t want to hurt me tonight, did you?”

“No,” he answers quickly, enraptured by you, by your words. “But I did.” “Only as much as I asked you to,” you soothe, stroking along the side of his face. “You would have stopped if I said the word, right?” Homelander nods, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. “You checked in on me, too. If anything, all tonight did was show me how much I don’t need to be afraid of you.”

Looking at you, there is a magnitude of emotion in Homelander’s eyes that is difficult to put into words. You realize immediately just how badly he needed to hear every word you’ve said. He has always thrived on your words, on your loving deeds, but tonight they scrape him particularly raw. There are times when you think the depths of his need for you scares even him. Homelander kisses a path from your collarbone to the space between your breasts, slow, deeply affectionate. Where you most easily show your worship in words, he shows his in touch. He strokes a hand down your side, to your outer thigh, squeezing it against him, like he simply cannot be close enough. “Come here,” you murmur, nudging him with your leg. “Let me warm you.” Homelander glances up at that, his lips twitching in a small, pleased smile. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” you confirm, encouraging him with another little nudge. Of all the tricks you’ve introduced him to, this has been his favorite by far. Licking his lips eagerly, Homelander shifts, lifting himself to grab the lube from the bedside table, dispensing enough to slick his cock up. He uses what remains on his fingers in you, sliding his slick fingers into you with ease, earning a sharp little inhale from you before you relax into it. Once you’re properly wetted, he carefully slides his cock into you, less than half hard, but that isn’t the intent. Though you’re still tender, once he settles against you, the fervid weight of him inside feels divine. Having him inside always feels as though you are kindling a live flame within you.

“Mm, that’s it. Feel good?” You ask, kissing his forehead. Homelander nods, slotted against you as perfectly as a matching jigsaw piece. He turns his head to kiss your breast, transitioning quickly from that to closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking gently. You flex your grip in his hair, sighing in pleasure. “I still need to rest, you know. We can’t all have super stamina,” you remind him with an amused little smile.

“So rest,” he says dismissively, gaze flickering up to meet yours. He kisses your breast reverently before placing his head back down, staring up at you with such utter contentment, you feel the  warmth of it to your core. “I can be patient.” In other words, he’ll wait as long as he can before the temptation grows too great. The thought of waking to him taking advantage of you like that broils a little fire of your own in your gut, and you laugh softly, nodding. “Okay. Wake me in a few hours. Be creative,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him. Homelander’s lips curl deviously. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” Eventually, your exhaustion wins over the giddiness of what’s to come. Homelander is a comforting weight against you, the heat of him chasing any and all chill from you, and you drift into one of the deepest sleeps you’ve ever known.

[antimony-medusa]

One of the things that I think sometimes gets lost when we talk about what's appropriate in fandom spaces is the notion that things can be appropriate in one space, but not for another. And that doesn't mean that the thing that's inappropriate in that setting is wrong, it just means that it's rude in that space. I think people want a single set of rules that's appropriate everywhere, but the thing is, you have to be able to assess the situation, and adjust your behaviour accordingly.

So an example. I have a fairly popular text post that was me asking about c!phil and religion in all innocence, and someone said "the only thing I have to say about c!phil is that he worships on his knees, thank you and goodnight". And I reblogged it like "I can't believe I forgot about how this fandom does phil analysis", cause it was at the height of the dilfza memes.

Anyways that's obviously a phil-is-happily-married/oral sex joke, in an oblique innuendo way, and on this site, where Phil is not here, and his friends are not here, with it being clear I was talking about the block man character, and we make jokes about sex and profanity (a very popular url scheme for a long time was "[name]shugecock" (or smalldick, depending on the joke)— that's a fine joke to make. I'm an adult, I can make sex jokes about fictional characters on the sex joke fictional character social media site.

If I was to make that joke in Philza's twitch chat, a) in his face, b) with his wife modding, c) in an enviroment where people aren't prepped for sex jokes, d) with it being not clear if I was talking about the cubito or about the real guy, that would be wildly inappopriate. I would be banned in every chat Philza mods in and I would deserve it.

That doesn't mean that it's inappropriate to make the joke in the first place though, just because I wouldn't do it at a Phil meet and greet. It means you gotta learn to read the room. (And like, sometimes it's hard to learn to read the room, but you can do it by pure brute-force memorization. I did.)

This is the same theory that underlies the fact that you can call your friends a bitch in a friendly way, because you are friends and you know each other's boundaries, but if you call your boss a bitch, you will be fired. There are rules about workplace appropriateness, and there are rules about what's appropriate in front of kids (I teach teens, I do not swear in front of them, I swear a LOT in front of my roommate), and there are rules about what's appropriate in different fandom spaces. Participating in an exchange about pregnancy and babies with your favourite blorbo of the moment? Great. Showing the actor gift art you got of him pregnant? No. Bad. Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

The thing that concerns me is that I think there are slight signs that as we get more comfortable with sexy jokes and offcolour remarks as a MCYT fandom (QSMP is the big banner example but it happens with other smps), we're taking what's appropriate in one space (tumblr, home of the brain worms, where I have seen the blog "philzaswetpussy" on my dash), and we're bringing it into places that it's not appropriate (sure, slimeariana is clearly canon, but maybe don't put the actual dicks-out fan art in the art tag on twitter that slime checks). Cause we can obviously tell that the rules twitter is going with are silly for here, so it's full speed ahead for roier/spreen etc, but the trick here is that it's full speed ahead HERE, or in fandom servers, and not necessarily in the streamer's faces.

We have a bunch of situations where creators have said that it's not their place to weigh in on shipping or nsfw etc, and people have taken that as a go ahead and that's fine, but thats still something where I'd like, caution people that just because they said "not gonna look at it not my deal", that doesn't mean that like, you should make it difficult for them to avoid looking at it. Talking about scitties is an honourable tradition, but telling scar that he makes you question your sexuality in his TTS— I made a horrified noise in real life and the cats came to look at me.

And I'm talking about the shipping, but this is also a thing with like— sometimes I see a streamer and I go "my friend you just vividly described neurodivergent symptoms" but it is ABSOLUTELY not my place to say that in their chat. It might not even be appropriate to make comments about it on my blog, with the amount of followers I have. I have to keep the "streamer just described the ADHD experience again :pensive:" comments for the group chat. And we all nod and go "yeah sounds like streamer", and we do not put it in his face, cause that's inappropriate.

We get to have fun with the fictional characters, including off-colour fun, but we still have to remember that there are real people who don't know us who are steering those fictional characters around, and it can be profoundly weird to see some of the (stuff that is appropriate in fandom spaces!) just up in your face in the regular fan art tag.

Just think about the space you're in, and who you're in front of, and if a CC notice is actually likely, and if a CC notice would be Very Bad actually with what you're doing, and keep the "world's sluttiest absent father" bracket (with associated slutty fan art) for here, not with the streamer tagged on twitter.

[coffeegnomee]

Writing this because I don’t see anyone analyzing the Kab lore and I’m genuinely intrigued as to how people are viewing it.

It’s just such an interesting and all over the place story atm. I have a huge amount of faith that she will make an amazing story by the end of the season. I’m willing to let her cook. She has to get practice in this somehow.

But also she’s just so all over the place. And not really embracing the depth of mcrp, but that's a different story.

This started from having a hard time drawing the line between lore and not lore because I refuse to just say “Kab in the box was lore and everything else is not” even though I’m pretty sure that is like exactly how she views it. 

Because the moment Red killed her she went to chat and said something like “chat it only took me three weeks to get lore on the server!” Like girl it’s been lore. All of it is lore. 

And then the box arc was just like, enter the box angry at Red because he’s forcing you to hide, go through your friends and realize you care about them, go through the rest of the team and remember you f-ing hate all of them, including the friends at the start. Leave the box angry at Red, using pacifism as a cover to get close to Woogie to destroy Red. 

Like am I crazy to say that she didn’t change in the slightest because of the box and you could take that whole arc away and nothing would be different? 

But what IS interesting about that is how she never got over Red killing her. Never. I think she hoped that the box would soothe her out of that hate and come to a different conclusion, but by the end the (almost too real) rage about him killing her, especially after she made him that armor, pervades to this day. 

Now THAT’S lifesteal, holding the hurt until it has a real resolution, not trying to get yourself over it quicker. As Red said last season “we make our best content when we actually hate each other” (not a direct quote, Zam said it) and as uncomfortable as that is to blend real hate into the ability to tell a story, there is real truth to that, that unless you, You the Writer, actually Care about the stakes of the story, you’re not going to write a good story. And nothing makes you care more than actually caring.

But Kab puts up these walls around herself to delineate character vs streamer. She is, to her credit, quite good at being in character, to the point where when she drops the character it is so jarring to be told none of it is real, this is just lore. It’s wildly jarring. And makes it quite difficult to find her character to be endearing? At least for me. Because she consistently does little things to break the fourth wall like clearly having left the box to get materials. Girl PLEASE why did you not just include getting materials and being paranoid about being caught as a PART of that story?? Sigh. 

So she, in her mind, has a very clear distinction for what is her character. And a distinction for what she herself is willing to do. And that separation makes basically everything she says “in character” a lie; like she can say what she wants, be dramatic and make a cool tragic character, but that will not have a real meaning on who she is as a character on Lifesteal as a whole.

And what I find fascinating is that despite that, she is a mirror to whoever is in front of her. She absolutely becomes whatever the person in front of her is. 

She comes out of the box saying she will use pacifism to get to Woogie. But then Flame blows up spawn and she feels bad, so she talks to Zam and within 5 seconds you can tell she’s fully dedicated to that task. She fully embraces being pacifist. Because Zam is pacifist. 

But then Zam leaves to practice MCCR and next thing you know she’s talking to Wemmbu and within 5 seconds he convinces her to kill Planet publicly and with everyone online, breaking her away from pacifism. 

This also despite the fact that Wemmbu is Shit at instigating people like Zam and Pangi. He tried SO HARD to get them to kill him or change their views. But one devil on the shoulder to Flame got him to blow up spawn and one second with Kab got her to cave and kill Planet (TWICE! And get Mid’s heart!). SOOOO interesting how his approach works so wildly differently on new members vs old. 

So she mirrors whoever is around her. What a fascinating character trait out of the master manipulator. Is it manipulation? Or does she really fully and truly emotionally believe what she says in those moments? Does she come back with manipulation ideas after to fit whatever impulse she had in the moment? 

And then there’s the Mapicc castle. I 100% believe she was the one to blow it up. Maybe I’m just projecting. Maybe it was wemmbu during the window he had his pc and when he didn’t. Maybe it was someone else.

But she just declared herself evil. It’s only natural to try and instigate chaos and get the members blaming each other for things that you did. 

But she was SO GOOD during that conversation. Brainstorming and giving ideas for who else it could be, pinning the wemmbu heads on Mid but also pulling back and saying it couldn’t be her for the explosions, trying to work out the timeline. Like in so many ways she sounded like Spoke making up a story and being Unhelpful(TM). And she went out of her way to drive to her office just to have this conversation.

But also she seemed so helpful, so genuinely trying to brainstorm and pick apart this juicy puzzle in front of her. And therefore just curious, not manipulative. 

GAH I just can’t decide! She’s either completely brilliant or completely incompetent and succeeding by accident!

And it’s even more interesting given the thought that she came into Lifesteal riding the high of MoneySMP and how she pulled off a betrayal arc super well. But that was Kab vs rando content creators in the mcyt space. 

Now she’s Kab vs the very people who defined betrayal in mcyt. Everyone on lifesteal shares her ability to lie and manipulate. The thing that once made her unique is the very fabric of the server she is on. She thinks she’s got a leg up on everyone, but she’s merely on the same playing field. And that’s so dang interesting. Because she still doesn’t consider herself to merely be on the same playing field. She still thinks she’s better at this than anyone else. 

She said during the stream where Mane destroyed the Mice base (7/23/24) that she likes playing cocky characters because it makes the fall all the greater. But she just IS that cocky at times. Every time she’s jumped she’s giggly and cocky about being slick and avoiding being killed again because she sits on the respawn screen. 

So she’s cocky and willing to cause chaos, but she’s not the progenitor of chaos. She is not a worldender. She only causes chaos when someone nudges her towards it, not out of an internal desire to be chaotic and an understanding of the need for chaos on lifesteal.

And perhaps it’s because deep down, she cares about the people on the server. Not in the way Zam cares where he feels awful about everything he does that is evil and repents and has remorse over his actions. 

But she is affected by her caring. One of the most interesting moment of Kab lore was when she saw the photo of Mane standing in the blown up Mice base. 

KAB: “wow […] I knew he would blow it up, but like seeing the image is still like, fuck”

CLOWN: “really?” 

KAB: “THIS HASN’T HAPPENED TO ME BEFORE” 

CLOWN: “hasn't it happened to you like twice?” 

KAB: “he didn’t blow it up last time [...] I think, I think I have to leave. I think I should leave. I’m putting like hannah and red and leo at risk right now” 

It’s an involuntary reaction, something that is intrinsic to her core. She immediately went to: I should stop being on this team so I can save Hannah and Leo. I don’t want to see them get hurt. 

And this is before she knew Woogie was wanting to leave the Mice because he thought she was a threat!

This was before Red killed her! 

She came to this conclusion that she was dangerous to her friends outside of them agreeing with it. 

And she never brought this back up when she was in the box. She to this day thinks she did nothing intrinsically wrong (ie dangerous to others) by antagonizing Mane. At least as a character she refuses to accept this. But for a second there Kab Kaboodle came through and knew that to be an intrinsic fact. And then she didn’t expand on it. Missed opportunity tbh. 

And then I’ll end with an analysis of the Mane conversation after he blew up the base. Because it’s so interesting to see Kab banter in lore (though I suppose from her pov it wasn’t lore yet because this was before Red killed her) and see her say Way Too Much. She says she’s a master manipulator but girl you leak freaking everything. 

So, she says what she said above, then a few minutes later gets in vc with Mane.

MANE: “you didn’t think I had the guts.. To blow up the base of [unintelligible]” 

KAB: “[talking over him] you didn’t blow up the other one”

This whole conversation Kab interrupts Mane so much. She has to say things, to prove herself. Even when staying silent would give her so much more information.

MANE: “I’m gonna be honest, I was just looking for a reason” 

Every pvper on lifesteal ONLY acts evil when they have a reason. It’s so consistent. It’s never “just because”.

Kab says she put posters up of him bc she thought it was funny. 

 MANE: “yeeaa I find it funny too um. You said you're not scared which, I- I find pretty amusing” 

KAB: “ok!” 

MANE: “because you're obviously pretty scared” 

KAB: “you’re not scary. Dude. like your strength of the sword doesn’t fucking scare me dude. When you actually get smart and shit then then come talk to me” 

Super cocky. Super dismissive. Just looking for a power dynamic to make her regain control over the situation. That’s not manipulation that’s just a power grab.

MANE: “Ok. I’ll talk to you when I get smart I guess but I mean, I dunno, according to these dogs here you've been at, at the deepest level of the cave for for a while, almost like you’re hiding. [pause, Kab freezes and pulls up coords] am I right about that? That seems pretty scared to me. I dunno. But um” 

Mane absolutely cooks in this conversation but Kab just refuses to be affected by his lines and instead mocks him for being stereotypically tough guy. And yet she got scared there. She brought up her coords. 

KAB: “[scoff] alright buddy” 

MANE: “I dunno the way that you’re like, you're like interacting and the way that you’re like going about this is not the way that I would go about it personally”

KAB: “well, we’re very different people” 

MANE: “I mean. Okay. how do I rephrase this. The way that you’re going about this is not the way any other person has gone about this before” 

KAB: “thank you!” 

MANE: “it’s not a complement.” 

KAB: “I think it’s a complement. I appreciate that” 

MANE: “I’m calling you stupid.” 

KAB: “I try to be original” 

MANE: “you’re being stupid” 

KAB: “maybe in your eyes yea” 

MANE: “cause you’re gonna make a new base, I mean, you haven't even stopped to question how I found this one, which is quite interesting.” 

He’s calling her stupid for not asking more questions. Especially after she just called HIM the stupid one. He’s clearly smarter than he looks

KAB: “oh I know how you found it” 

MANE: “how did I find it” 

KAB: “my team already told me, I’m not telling you” 

Instead of fishing for more information, playing dumb, Kab instead goes for posturing that she is far smarter than him. She could’ve used this to make him think she’s stupid or to actually learn how he found the base so she can be safer in the future (later she tells chat the she has no idea how he found the base). And interesting move out of someone who wants to manipulate people. Usually you would want to play dumb, not play cocky.

MANE: “[scoff] you don’t know how I found that base” 

KAB: “okay! You can believe that” 

MANE: “yea, because if you did, there’s no secret to keep from me. Like the way I found the base myself”

KAB: “[interrupting] girl you know I don’t use that base right?” 

MANE: “okay. That’s your teammate’s base” 

KAB: “that’s fair. That is my teammate’s base. I more feel bad for them rather than me.” 

MANE: “yea. Yea. I feel bad for them too. It would suck to like, like, if I had a teammate, you know, especially considering like the fact that you, you- overall you’re team’s isn’t like the most skilled um if I was always suffering the consequences of my teammate’s actions who obviously doesn’t care about what they say” 

He’s using the info Woogie gave him to make her feel bad/see if she does feel bad AND SHE DOESN’T HIDE A SINGLE THING!

KAB: “girl if you’re trying to guilt me it’s not gonna work” 

MANE: “I’m not trying to guilt you, I I’m just saying like, if I was your teammate I- I would feel horrible, you know? You’re like” [.... devolves as mane is like if you want to loose teammates you can, and kab goes don’t mansplain to me (again, being cocky. refusing to be scared)] 

MANE: “even if you’re not scared, you’re putting your teammates in jeopardy, which you clearly already know, which is very interesting, very interesting trait for someone who cares about her team. So. I just wanted talk to you and get your consensus on the situation” 

He was fully going to stop the conversation there. But she just missed the cue and started to willingly gave him more information because her adhd ass thought that was a question not a statement /pos

KAB: “yea.. I’m I’m not overly fussed. It’s inconvenient. and that’s about it. It’s inconvenient” 

MANE: “for who?” 

KAB: “me” 

She’s revealing that her motivations on lifesteal revolve around herself. She cares more about herself than teammates in the long run. Like I said earlier, she intrinsically does care about people, but on lifesteal in particular she will first care about herself. 

MANE: “oooooh. See but you just said you care about your teammates and [unintelligible]”

KAB: “I do, but let’s be real two of them don’t log on very often and Leo’s been doing his own thing anyway. So” 

MANE: “oh. I guess you’re team’s already disbanded so” Mane brings back up how he just wanted to see what she thought about it. Again she just keeps talking.

KAB: “I think you’re being predictable and I think that’s helpful” 

MANE: “aw yea bro, glad I could help out”

[…more chatting] 

MANE: “If hiding doesn’t mean that you’re scared, I don’t know what hiding means” 

KAB: “I mean not everything has to have and emotional reaction” 

MANE: “I mean it’s not really an emotional reaction: if you’re hiding you’re scared of something” 

KAB: “scared is an emotion” 

MANE: “nah, fear is an emotion” DAMN SON. he really can just drop the dramatic bars bro. 

KAB: “fear is an emotion. I say being fearful and being scared is the same thing.” 

MANE: “if you weren’t fearful you wouldn’t be hiding” 

KAB: “that's not necessarily true” 

MANE: “how” 

KAB:” okay-” 

MANE: “hold on hold on hold on. [wanting direct clarification] Before we get into that, you’re saying that you’re not scared.” 

KAB: “no. [laughing at him]” 

MANE:” You’re not scared at all”

KAB: “no. I’m not scared at all” 

MANE: “Okay. as long as we get that out of the way” 

KAB: “I’m just not an idiot. But I’m not scared at all, no.” 

MANE: “okay. Ooooh, so you’re saying like the smart thing to do is hide” 

(/genuinely realizing this in real time. He did not understand this until this very moment)

KAB: “I mean, yea. Let’s be realistic. You are much better at pvp than I am and you have more hearts than me [ect] I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to keep my survival. HOLY SHIT I JUST REALIZED A PARALLEL. You’re a lion and I’m a rabbit” [derailed, mane says he got what he wanted, thinks she got something out of it too] 

KAB: “can I ask you one thing quickly?” 

This, I think, is the only thing Kab actually cared to ask this whole conversation. She was not being purposeful in anything else, just responding to what Mane was saying and saying things. But she wasn’t really listening to what was happening, she was too focused on looking tough and explaining herself. Until this moment.

MANE: “mmmhm?” 

KAB: “why did you go after my base and try and kill me? Was it the posters? Is that why?” 

MANE: “well, the posters were just a good reason” 

KAB: “you just want to do it?” 

MANE: “I’m gonna be honest. It’s just fun” 

KAB: “oooh. So I did categorize you correctly. Ok cool!” 

MANE: “[sad] ooh. okay.“ 

Leaves call KAB: “yea Mane is just as predictable as I thought he was”

Clown comes back in vc KAB: “[explaining the convo] he just wants to. He just thinks it’s fun. He’s just a crazy villain. I told you!” 

But like, I don’t think it’s that. I think we learned that you can get Mane to hunt someone very very easily, just give him a small excuse and he’ll gladly do it. Which is useful if you want a villain or want someone to hunt you. So in that way he is super predictable. But he isn’t “a crazy villain” the posters were just an excuse, an excuse he had been looking for. Because he wants an excuse. That is very different than pure “it was for the fun”. 

The fact that she comes to the conclusion that he’s just a crazy villain after that conversation is crazy. I feel like she just was looking for confirmation for a hypothesis she had rather than really looking for research to see who Mane is. 

Which is a huge flaw for someone who wants to figure out why people are the way they are so you can manipulate them. 

I feel like Mane, if he is smart, learned far far more information about her than she did from him.

The tension for the Kab lore here lies in how this will all blow up in her face. I think she will cling to things and copium her way into believing she won no matter what. But she will have been absolutely destroyed. 

And I keep getting hit with her being incompetent because she like, wildly, and I mean WILDLY, makes wrong assumptions about the older Lifestealer’s motivations.

Which is crazy to me because she WAS a viewer! She, in theory, (but probably not in practice because no cc has enough time to watch another smp with as much attention to detail and analysis that we do) should have a really solid understanding of the crew, and she self reports that she does but she’s been wrong so many times. 

Like not only does she get Mane completely wrong here, but when Spoke logged on one night and said he was betraying the empire because of jepex she flat out believed him??? And like brought it up again later like it was true. 

She thinks Zam has a huge plan of becoming evil. She had this whole moment in the box where she mansplained to chat that we are being fooled by him. We were being gaslit by him into thinking he isn’t planning on being evil at the end. And it was just so painful to watch because she’s just so wrong. 

Because Zam has never ever thought of his lore like that. He’s reactionary to the extreme, believing he will take the current lore to the end of the season regardless of how early it is in the season. He becomes evil by the end more often than he doesn’t, but it’s not premeditated. And she should know that. 

And she assumed that Red wouldn’t kill her. Like, no, I didn’t see it coming either, but it was a very Reddoons move. To take it personal when someone causes him anxiety. There were other small assumptions she made on older life stealer motivations that I can’t remember now. 

But to clear it out, what motivates Kab Kaboodle?? She hates not being believed. That’s what I took from all this. This is her trigger, the thing that will motivate her forward. 

Because she does lie and manipulate. And that relies upon being believed. So when someone believes something that isn’t true about her (like Red’s assumptions that she was leaking info to Clown) it hurts a hell of a lot more. 

But because she lies, nobody will ever believe her when she desperately tries to get them to believe the truth.

So yea. What do you guys think about Kab and her lore? 

[auspicioustidings]

Services/Goods of Equivalent Value

Summary: You decide to renovate a crumbling farm house into a teashop, not realising there is a military base right down the road.

Work Count: 3.9k (this was completely by accident)

CW: None, the whole thing is a fluff piece

This was probably crazy. It was definitely crazy right? People didn't actually get to pursue their passions and have their dream job under relentless capitalism, that wasn't a thing right? So then why did you think that you could be different? Especially standing on this road (dirt path really) looking at the crumbling wreck of a farmhouse with only one suitcase and a backpack to your name.

The property had already taken a chunk of your savings and you'd need every penny of the rest to try and turn it into what you imagined. You walked over the threshold and took a breath. It was a rainy day, the puddles on the floor evidence of the holes in the roof. Parts of the floor were cracked and rotting. Only one window had managed to stay completely intact, the rest either totally gone or cracked beyond repair. But when you turned the tap and found that after a heroic sputter the water did flow through you grinned. 

It didn't matter how the small space looked now, it mattered what you could see in it. You got to work.

--

You threw the screwdriver on the ground and huffed, stopping your feet like a child. This was the 5th time you had attached the new front door and the 5th time it was wrong. It wouldn't fit in the frame properly. You kept plaining down the edge gingerly, taking off a tiny bit at a time so you didn't go too far, and every time when you propped it up it seemed like it fit until you actually added the hinges.

"Ye ok there hen?"

Oh that was embarrassing, there was a man on the road. He was jogging in place, pausing what must have been a run judging by his workout gear to give you a bemused grin. You flustered a little, wildly gesturing to the door in accusation. You had every good reason to be in a huff, the door was being a dick. 

He laughed at you and you blew out a breath before groaning and slumping down to hug your knees and bury your head there in embarrassment, your voice muffled.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong, it just won't go on."

You heard warm laughter and then footsteps coming towards you. Felt a hand gently petting at your head in a 'there there' gesture. 

"I wouldnae expect it tae. It's the wrong type of door for this frame."

You unburied your head and looked at him, aghast. 

"But can't I just make it smaller? I've been making it smaller. I really love that door."

"Aye that would eventually make it fit, but it's an interior door, wilnae dae fuck all to keep the elements oot."

You groaned and just accepted your fate, falling back on your ass and then laying star fished on the ground to stare at the sky. You were bone tired. You'd laid the floor, it was crooked as hell. The windows were fitted but two of them just did not open properly and you couldn't figure out why. You had given up on the leaks, putting buckets down for the moment and hoping the next downpour would hold off until you could come up with a solution.

It wasn't like you weren't trying your hardest, but it was just so much all the time and you wondered why on earth you thought you could do this. A shadow fell over you as the man leant to look at you with a smile.

"I can help ye with the door" he offered, holding out a hand which you took to shake from your spot on the ground, telling him your name. "Nice tae meet you, John MacTavish."

"I can't pay you John MacTavish, so thanks but I'll figure something out."

"Wisnae offering for pay hen, just tryin' tae help a damsel in distress."

You considered him for a moment before hauling yourself up and making your way inside, motioning for him to follow. You started tearing through the place to find a pen and paper, clearing tools and assorted nonsense off of the countertop to lay the paper flat. 

Johnny took the place in with some sense of awe. Last time he saw this place it was basically a ruin and he had to hand it to you, you had done a half decent job with it. There was charm in all the flaws, made the place feel undeniably cosy. He noted the buckets, would have to fix the roof. He wasn't any good at that kind of work, but hadn't he seen Rudy doing roof work on one of the safe houses before? They were due a visit from Los Vaqueros soon, he'd ask him to come help. Wasn't too far a trip, this road was a half hour run from a small off record military base the 141 tended to use when they didn't feel like being miserable in some rules bound grey prison of a base.

Rudy was a bit like him, always loved a project. He tried to figure out what exactly you were doing with the place. The counter looked like a bar of some sort, maybe a shop? 

"Ok John, here you go" you said, presenting the very hastily written contract. 

I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value as soon as I have the means to do so. 

"Services and goods eh? Wit ye selling?"

"Once I get the place fixed up, tea."

Johnny couldn't help but grin at your expression. You were so determined and so excited about the prospect, like the idea of it had completely re-filled your energy. Cute.

"Add coffee to the menu and you have a deal."

--

You liked Alejandro immediately and immensely. John, or Soap as you were now calling him and honestly you had no clue why, and Rudy were absolute terrors together. You actually did enjoy being around them, but my God if it didn't tire you out something awful. It was impossible not to be high energy with them, bouncing around and laughing and having fun. But when Alejandro had joined he had calmed you down, allowed you to take it slow and easy after days of feeling like a live wire. 

With the roof fixed and a front door that worked you were able to start actually unpacking the suit case you had brought into the place months ago. Two kettles and your favourite tea set along with a big copper pot you loved, some utensils and some hand blended tea. It wasn't a lot, but being able to make that first pot of tea almost made you cry. 

You were extra attentive, making sure it was brewed perfectly before going outside to find the others. You were nervous, the first time you had felt that way around them. None of the three were much for tea, that you knew. 

"Hey I... uh, I made tea. I don't actually have any coffee just yet but I promise I'm going to get some soon! It was just in the meantime, if you wanted something to drink. Tea I mean, if you wanted to drink some tea. Which you do not have to" you rambled, trying to give your best winning smile to the three men currently working away at one of the windows. The ones that you couldn't open you had installed completely wrong so they had taken to reinstalling them. 

Johnny and Rudy were content to watch you ramble away, seeing you like this being new to them so choosing to enjoy it while it lasted. You were adorable like this, heart on your sleeve telling them that it was important to you that they enjoyed something you had made for them. Alejandro only smiled and pulled off his gloves, stuffing them in his back pocket and going over to you.

"We would love some tea, it's the first time you've made it here no? Thank you for trusting us to share it" he said warmly, watching how you visibly relaxed. He liked that he could have that effect on you.

"Well if the boss says we drink tea then we drink tea" Rudy laughed, him and Soap following after.

--

You reckoned that if he went by first impressions, Simon Riley probably thought you were the biggest airhead he had ever met. In your defence though, you had the worst cold known to man when he had come round. 

The place was looking great, but the fireplace wasn't done yet. As you had been since starting this project, and as you had been hiding from any visitors, you were sleeping in the building in a sleeping bag on the floor. It was getting bitingly cold and you were bundled up in layers whenever you went to bed. You could not afford to rent somewhere nearby while this was going on and to be honest you hadn't really thought ahead to what you would do when you actually opened the place. Probably just keep on sleeping on the floor, or maybe once you got furniture on one of the cosy armchairs you wanted to get.

He had made a house call when you were miserably sipping at a hot chocolate. Rudy had taught you how to make it, a recipe from Mexico. It was gently spiced and beautifully warming and smooth, but with your current cold you could barely taste it, hence the misery. 

"Y'should really lock the door, I could be a murderer walking in here."

The man who had walked in was tall, in full tactical gear and wearing a balaclava with a skull on it. Probably was a murderer.

"Please put me out of my misery Mr murderer."

You honestly hadn't meant to say that to a complete stranger, but it felt like your head was stuffed with cotton wool instead of grey matter today. Thankfully he only chuckled gruffly instead of fulfilling your request.

"And then where would I get more of whatever tea Johnny brought back to base?"

Johnny. Right, this must be Ghost then. Soap talked about him sometimes, said him, Gaz and Price liked your tea which had made you jump up and down in excitement at the time. Your signature blend had taken you years to get just the way you liked it. Soap had also said something about Ghost having a mask, so you at least assumed this wasn't one of the other two. 

"Oh right, let me get you some to take away with you. Hang on" you said, going to pack some of the leaves up into a little brown bag for him. 

You put it on the counter and then went into the cupboard, grabbing the mug you had gotten in a Halloween sale. It was a white mug in the shape of a ghost, two little eyes on the front. You ladled in some of the hot chocolate from the pot on the stove and put that on the counter as well. 

Ghost watched the whole thing with concealed amusement. He had genuinely come to get some of the tea, he liked the blend and they had run out of what Johnny had brought. But he had also come out of curiosity. It was clear Johnny was fond of you from the way his eyes lit up when he'd tell them all what he had done with you that day whenever he would come back to base. Rudy and Alejandro too when they had been visiting seemed enamoured, tense from mission planning right up until a visit to you would have them coming back relaxed and happy.

Part of him had been hoping to scare you a little showing up the way he had in gear and mask. It was probably because you were clearly sick, but you weren't treating him like something scary. No, you were sluggishly getting him tea and then giving him hot chocolate in a cute little ghost mug.

"You shouldn't be working sick, definitely a health and safety violation."

"Place isn't open yet so not technically working."

"In that case, thanks for the hot chocolate."

When he left, he took off his massive cosy looking jacket and draped it over your shoulders without a word before grabbing the bag of tea and taking off.

--

You tried a bunch of names for the cat and none of them seemed to fit just right. The scrappy little thing started hanging around the place when you started leaving out snacks for it and you found you enjoyed the company. 

The place was nearly ready now, interior cosy and furnished with a bunch of mismatched furniture you had thrifted that somehow managed to match the vibe very well. With the fire going the place glowed just the way you had always dreamt it would, and the way the scent of tea clung pleasantly to the air was more than you could have hoped for. Simon and Soap had helped haul a lot of the furniture, but they had been gone for a month now. You really hoped you would see them again so you could show them the place now, completely transformed from when they last saw it. 

Cosy enough now for this cat to enjoy at least. She even had a favourite spot, one of the wing backed armchairs by the fireplace. 

"How about Binks?" you asked her, currently leaning behind the counter and mulling over a cup of tea. 

In response the cat only yawned and blinked lazily at you. 

"Ok, not Binks then" you laughed, taking a sip and sighing in contentment. Honestly who knew if you'd ever get customers, this place was completely out of the way, but you were proud of what you had created. Dirt poor, but proud. You'd open soon you thought, actually give this a go. 

The cat eventually stretched and padded over to the door, looking over at you expectantly. 

"Alright alright, time for you to go wherever it is you go" you said, going over to open the door and let her out. 

There was a giant on the other side of the door and you all but jumped out of your skin in surprise. The man looked like he had been considering knocking, just as surprised as you were for a moment. Purring broke you both out of your surprise, the cat butting up against the man's legs.

"So this is where you've been getting to Herzogin" he said to the cat, leaning down to give her some scratches which resulted in more purring before she went right back to her spot on the chair, leaving you and the giant stood at the doorway alone.

"Is Herzogin her name? I'm sorry, I thought she was a stray" you said with a slight smile, hoping you hadn't accidentally become a catnapper.

"She is a stray of kinds, the base nearby feeds her sometimes so I got used to having her around is all."

"Oh my God the base! That makes way more sense now, I didn't realise there was something like that nearby."

So that's where all these men had been coming from. You wondered if that meant Ghost, Soap, Rudy and Alejandro weren't stationed there anymore or had been moved. The military wasn't something you understood, but you assumed they must move around a lot. Did they have a home base of sorts? Was it selfish of you to sort of hope the one near you was a home base for them?

"If they had told us about this place we would have visited" the man said as if in apology.

"Oh no don't worry, I'm not actually open yet. I'm just sort of practicing drinks until I work up the nerve" you laughed. "Do you want to try something? I'm best at making tea, but I've been trying out coffees and hot chocolates as well."

You moved to unblock the doorway, inviting him in and telling him your name. He said you could call him König. Luckily this place had high ceilings so he could experience the cosiness without it being cramped for him.

König found the next few hours to be some of the most calming he had experienced in years. He wouldn't deny that he enjoyed the bloodthirst of battle, it gave him a manic energy that suited him. But there was something to be said for letting himself be fully off duty. It was nice to teach you how to make Einspänner, laugh at your pronunciation of it and have you laugh back rather than be nervous around him for his size or his reputation. Sipping his drink by the fire with a cat in his lap and you softly telling him all about your big plans for the place if it started to do well was something he hadn't known he had been yearning for. 

He knew him and the others in Kortac were only here a few more days, the 141 being gracious in allowing them to use their base to lay low while they handled the absolute mess happening in America just now. The whole thing had at least given the teams an uneasy alliance for the time being. Maybe he'd put some effort into keeping that alliance going so he could visit again. 

--

You knew that you should do some sort of advertising for an opening, but the idea was overwhelming. Instead you just quietly popped a little open sign by the door and went about your day as normal. You would probably get nobody coming in because nobody knew this was here and that suited you fine. It felt like once 'opening day' was over and the pressure of it was out of the way, then you could actually seek out customers and not feel like it was as big a deal. 

If zero people showed up your first day then the only direction was up right?

Only two people did show up. Price and Gaz. They had greeted you warmly like you were an old friend, explaining that they knew Soap and Simon who would be home soon but that they wanted to visit themselves. They seemed to like the place which made you happy, both settling in at one of the tables and chatting amicably away with you while you made their tea. 

Herzogin didn't seem to care that there was company, barely even looking to check before curling back up in her spot happily purring away.

Captain Price found he liked this place immediately. It struck him as bordering on fantastical, seeming like a tea shop from a fantasy novel on the inside. It was an hour at a brisk walk to get here but he regretted not making the trip sooner, imagining that any customer who had come once would certainly become a regular regardless of distance. It was a relaxing spot, almost nostalgic feeling. 

For Gaz the place was lovely, but he was more fascinated with you. He had wanted to visit before, had tried to tag along with Ghost and Soap and been denied. He reckoned he probably knew why now, bastards were being selfish and keeping you all to themselves. 

"Is it always so quiet for you on weekdays at this time?" Price asked at some point in the conversation, watching the pretty blush that stained your cheeks with interest.

"Oh well technically, this is the first weekday I've been open at this time. It's actually sort of opening day? I mean I didn't really advertise or anything, I wasn't actually expecting anyone to show up if I'm honest" you replied sheepishly.

"It's a soft open then, just to test everything out yeah?" Gaz said gently.

"I think that's an idea. This can be your soft open and then in a week you can open proper. That way Ghost and Soap can be here for it" Price added.

Both of them were giving you such soft looks that you couldn't help but agree with them, settling on a date in a weeks time for a real opening. When the conversation turned to how you would advertise they had promptly told you not to worry about it with a knowing look to one another.

--

Every seat in the place was taken and the tables and counters were overflowing with sweets and snacks from all over the world. Bukkumi, halva, berlinerkranser, churros, shortbread, teacakes, all brought in for everyone to share. You were so busy making drinks that you didn't even register how ridiculous it was that you were happily hand fed bites of different desserts every so often by whoever happened to be near you when you stopped to fill a cup or mug. 

It was nice to see everyone you had met again and to meet new faces. Herzogin took it all in her stride, figuring out quickly who she liked. You hid a laugh seeing König huff when she curled up in Simon's lap. The official opening was by all accounts an outrageous success and everyone absolutely overpaid on their bills regardless of your efforts to stop them. 

Farah promised to teach you how to make the halva while Horangi swore that the bukkumi would remain a trade secret and you'd just have to hire him next time he was in town to make it for you. Aksel had rolled his eyes at the Korean man and pressed a kiss to your cheek in thanks for taking care of them. Kate smacked Soap upside the head when he immediately made a beeline to give you kisses as well which made you laugh before blushing and pressing a quick peck to his cheek when he pouted about it.

When everybody was finally out of the door you were absolutely exhausted. By the time the sound of the last car leaving faded away you were already done with tidying all the plates and cups away to the sink. You'd deal with the cleaning up tomorrow, you were far too beat to even consider doing it now. Giving Herzogin a kiss on the head after you had gotten ready for bed, you curled up in the chair by the fireplace, crashing out hard almost immediately.

--

"Told you so."

"Ye always have tae be right about everything don't ye LT."

"Alright. Get her in the car would you Sergeant."

"Right-o Captain, we kidnapping damsels now?"

"It's not a bloody kidnapping you cheeky bastard. We're putting her in a proper bed for the night and taking her back in the morning once she's made a bad attempt at explaining herself."

"She can take my room."

After some discussion on that point it was decided that you would indeed take Ghost's room with the reasoning it meant nobody would disturb you. They could hardly put you in one of the empty rooms where anyone might walk in. Everyone who they had invited for the opening was staying at base and they were not about to risk the likes of König or Rudy figuring out you were sleeping under the same roof as them. They'd avoid that for as long as possible.

Tomorrow they'd let you sweat a bit and then tell you in no uncertain terms that you'd be staying with them for the time being until they could build you an extension to your shop with a proper living space. You could pay them back with services/goods of equivalent value after all, and they could think of plenty of ideas for what that looked like.

[death---dealer]

You know that little drabble you did with Caesar x Reader x Blue Eyes? Yeah I need more of that 👀

slay the boots down Houston I AM DECEASED

"That doesn't really make sense to me," You said, giving your utmost attention to Maurice who had just asked you if his conjunction he used in a sentence was indeed correct or wrong. Not like you knew, English was never a strong suit but you still spoke it well enough for him to feel comfortable to ask your advice. "Can I---" He handed you the rock that he had been using a make-shift chalk, tugging your thinned glove off with your teeth and letting it dangle against your chin, the rock too big for your own hands and it made you chuckle as you tried to grip it properly and looked at the wall Maurice used as a chalk-board, raising your hand to touch hard sediment against an equally hard surface and scraped it, the vibrations in your arm from the action causing a mild shiver to run down your spine, along with the raising of your jacket on the side where you had your arm above your head. There were always eyes on you, something that came with the territory of living in an Ape Colony and looking wildly different, smelling different and having different aspects in personality. Whether you were able to ignore them depended on whose gaze they were. Now, with your side exposed to the cold air as you fixed Maurice's work with a small smile towards him as your words formed the explanation of what you were fixing, it was abundantly clear to exposed, chilled skin that there were two sets of eyes watching, from the same slick perch, one pair green like the woods, one pair azure like the ocean. Both a force of nature, only one who had your heart. "So, yeah, I'd put the commas there if I remember sentence structure from when I was a kid." You joked softly, handing him the rock back with a grin as you imagined five years ago... You would not have put yourself in a world where you were correcting and talking punctuation to an abundantly smart Orangutan but there you were. Shuffling on your feet as his small green eyes looked over your correction, you felt another shot of electricity run down your spine at the thought that...

Five years ago you'd have never thought that you'd be with an Ape, much less the Prince to an entire Colony, your eyes scanning upwards towards him and making flurried eye contact that Blue Eyes was always quick to break out of fear of Caesar saying something along the lines of needing to focus on the task on hand. That seemed to be the case as you could see Caesar talking, unable to hear what was being spoken and you were left feeling flustered as Blue Eyes signed in typical rushed fashion, his fingers skilled in more ways than one you thought coyly and chortled before you attention fell in the larger of the two. Caesar commandeered any atmosphere he was in and it was remarkable to watch him communicate to his Son, hopefully teaching and gracing him with advice. Hard and tough as he usually was, knowing that Blue Eyes was either receptive to that or chose to lash out. Ever since mating with you, the Son of Caesar had become more receptive and garnered you silent thanks for the Ape King. The sweep of his broad shoulders, your fingers twitching in acute interest to touch him there to see if it felt any different, if their fur got darker and thicker with age. The notion that he had thought about you that way, about you being naked after the one awkward encounter racked in your mind as a vivid image flashed at the idea that he felt drastically different, harder, more commanding than his Son did--- Chittering caught your attention and you were torn out of the fantasy that drifted against the front of your brain and looked back down at the orange Ape next to you. 'Have good feeling... Blue Eyes and you will successfully mate.'

Ah. He must have seen you staring. The heat that ran against your cheekbones, down the flush of your neck and against the outer parts towards the tip of your ears kept you warm, no need for the bonfire you were considering sitting by that afternoon as you waited for Blue Eyes to wrap his council with Caesar.

Their impeccable ability to talk about even the most private things so casually left you reeling at times, but... Then again, you thought more pragmatically. It made sense Maurice would mention it, to reassure and confide information to you that you wouldn't get otherwise. He cared about the future of the Colony, as did you all, and if you were able to mate successfully with Blue Eyes then that would garner the Colony another heir.

'Hopefully soon,' Your signing was still slow but was getting better as you were becoming more familiar with the slay of their fingers and how drastically confident they were in their signing. Fake it until you make it was your motto regarding that. 'Blue Eyes won't leave me alone.'

A human joke that Maurice seemed to understand as he nodded his head slowly, a low chortle hitting your ears causing your lips to tilt into a smug smile as you had gotten him to laugh. 'Do not think he wishes to.' Maurice brought his eyes to rest on his closest friend and advisor, your fingers tingling at the fact that you knew exactly where he was gesturing towards with his gaze.

'Not the only one who thinks Humans are...' The orangutan was hovering his hands in the air and it was obvious that he was thinking about the word he wanted to choose. 'interesting.' Small eyes narrowed on you.

'Not that interesting,' You were surprised at your own speed to sign that, turning your body so the King himself was unable to see your clear and vivid language, 'Caesar has no interest in me outside of my ability to help him understand Human situations. That is it.' The slicing of your hands were aggressive and defensive, something that Maurice grunted about.

'Never said anything about Caesar.' Your mouth flew open but you were able to catch it on the way down before pressing your lips together in a tightly formed line. Damn, your mind yelled, you had made an assumption that... Confirmed Maurice's intentions. He was good at that, getting an answer from you by sliding around the actual topic. Incredibly smart and cunning and you found a lot of your Human aspects resting in him which is probably why you got along so well.

'I only want Blue Eyes.' There was hesitant in your signing that came as a shock, the pit in your stomach dropping as if you were unable to convince yourself.

'Ape,' Maurice was concise with his signing, 'Get defensive over mates. Make sure both know where they sit otherwise could turn bad. Worse if you are with... child.'

'Only Blue Eyes.'

'Keep your... eyes only on him then.' Maurice gave you one more piece of advice, turning back towards the wall to scribble some more words against it. Blinking, you watched the dexterity of his shoulders move before you dragged your eyes back towards Blue Eyes who allowed himself to slot into the gaze for a few seconds longer than he felt was allowed in front of Caesar.

'Soon.' He signed to you, 'Meet in nest?'

'Ten minutes?' You signed.

'Less, more likely.'

Was the curt response you got before Caesar felt your gaze upwards and turned to look at you as you were mid sign. Slowly, you dropped your hands and stared at him, flashing only a small smile before turning on your feet, resting a hand on Maurice's shoulder as a departure before you scattered down the slanted ground.

'Distracted.' Caesar signed at his son with a roll of his shoulders.

'Trying to ma-'

Caesar watched you until you were out of his vision before he fluttered his eyes back towards his offspring, 'No success yet?'

'Hard,' Blue Eyes grunted along with the actions of his hands, 'Human, Ape... Not sure if possible---'

'Possible, might take more time.' Caesar was firm in that, raising his hand to let his son go as your scent finally trailed towards him from the breeze that was pulling in and out of the wind. 'She waits for you. Go.'