#completely missing the point the game seemed to make which was

[war-in-time]

This is a lot of words to completely misunderstand the point. The fact that you think Haymitch’s character wasn’t rewritten to suit Collins�� new narrative tells me all I need to know. The issue isn’t that sotr expands Haymitch’s backstory—the issue is that it contradicts what we were originally told in the Trilogy. You’re acting like people are mad because we got more depth when the problem is that the ‘depth’ doesn’t line up with what was already established.

It doesn’t matter whether the audience saw Haymitch blow up the arena or not—the Game Makers did. And that alone would have been enough for them to react. If Amperit (or any tribute who defied the Games) got their own brand of mutts—like Maysilee and the other girl did when they killed Game Makers—they would certainly do the same for Haymitch. The Capitol doesn’t have to show the tributes killing Game Makers; if fact that mostly likely would never shown something like that happening. Even if Maysilee and the other girl were killed for it later, the districts would see them as martyrs for spilling capital blood, and the Capitol would not want that kind of thing public. Snow would never allow such disruptions in his control. Why would he? The kid that actively tried to sabotage the games (Haymitch), seen by the public or not, wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the chance of being a victor.

This leads to a major issue I have with how sotr handles Haymitch’s story. The poisoned milk, for example, was nonsensical—it was too on the nose and felt like a poor attempt at adding complexity to a scenario that wouldn’t work. There’s no way the Capitol audience would stand for a sponsor gift killing a tribute; that would be outrageous interference in the games that looked like it came from the outside. If Snow was willing to kill Haymitch for blowing up the arena, he would have sent mutts after him—just as we’ve seen in previous Games. This is not an opinion; it’s simply how the Capitol operates. Haymitch’s death would have been treated just like any other tribute death, and Snow wouldn’t let him escape the consequences of disrupting the Games in such a blatant way. He actively sabotaged the Games, something the Capitol simply cannot allow to go unpunished.

I think it’s important to note that you’re mainly drawing on sotr, and that misses the larger context established in The Hunger Games series. Haymitch was always portrayed as clever and strategic—his forcefield kill wasn’t an accident. He planned it. He led his opponent to the forcefield, hoping they’d throw their weapon, making it a calculated move. This was his plan all along. But in sotr, this is portrayed as an accident, which contradicts Haymitch’s established intelligence and tactical mindset. That’s the problem I have: sotr fundamentally changes his character by retroactively making his actions seem less intentional, when they were clearly designed to be strategic. It’s a retcon, and it undermines the intelligence Haymitch displayed in the og trilogy.

“Sotr makes it seem like Haymitch only ever cares about the others in the arena because they all agreed to be allies, and not because he actually grew to like a person but knew there was no way they’d both make it back alive.” Is what I actually said so maybe finish the paragraph next time. There was no reason to rewrite all of Haymitch’s personality when he already had one that showed he cared about people, that was the point. We know he cares about Peeta and Katniss, that was always a part of his character but he never went up to them and said “I’m gonna be an asshole now guys but I don’t actually mean it” like he did in sotr. He was always someone who cared, but in his own way—gruff, cynical, but deeply invested in the people he chooses to protect. His actions always showed that he cared; we didn’t need it spelled out for us. His actions spoke volumes about his loyalty, and that’s what made his character so compelling. Rewriting him to be more overtly emotional doesn’t align with the character we knew. He was gruff, cynical, but he always cared. We didn’t need him to explicitly say it; it was clear in his actions.

I’m not going to rehash all my original points because I know we’ll never see eye-to-eye on this. But using sotr as the foundation of your argument, especially when it doesn’t align with the established portrayal of Haymitch, seems misguided. The og trilogy and sotr don’t align smoothly in their characterization of Haymitch. That’s my main concern here.

you’re so right about people not knowing how to handle conflict and i wish they did, people act like collins can do no wrong but if they could see past that there are some really interesting conversations to be had about this book and what does or doesn’t work from a literary perspective. but they aren’t willing to hear it out in a mature and respectful manner.

anyways what i wanted to say and get your opinion on is that i get collins maybe wanting to make a point about how long rebellion takes and how much trial and error there is but i kind of hate that it came at the cost of haymitch’s story from catching fire, like there are so many other ways to write about themes of propaganda i hate that we had to take a story with really interesting and impactful messages about rebellion and the cruelties of the capitol and say it was actually all propaganda, it doesn’t make sense to me.

haymitch not purposely acting as a part of the rebellion but rather just trying to survive (like katniss and peeta with the berries) makes for such a compelling message too. like i think him outsmarting the capitol using his own intellect rather than because he was following instructions from the rebellion and thus the captiol punishing a kid who wasn’t trying to dismantle them but was just trying to survive and make it back home alive hits so hard why erase that? she could’ve conveyed these themes with a different characters story, why assassinate haymitch like that? i also think there’s something powerful in his catching fire story about how him and maysilee broke the alliance but he still went after her without obligation.

i’m convinced that what we see in catching fire was what she originally intended his story to be and that she came up with the events of this book much later. it just frustrates me that she wrote haymitch’s story with such compelling ideas and messages only to then with this book say the capitol made that all up. like haymitch has always been my favorite character and while i hate that she took away his intellect and edge i actually hate that she took away all the meaning behind how his story in catching fire played out more.

Alright I will go into the propaganda aspect and why none of it works. Let’s start with Haymitch in Catching Fire: everything that we learn about him and the 50th games seems believable to how Haymitch had been characterized up till that point. During his interview: “Haymitch shrugs. “I don’t see that it makes much difference. They’ll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same””(CF.197). That way of thinking is shown to align exactly with how Haymitch views others and what he verbally says he thinks of them throughout the original trilogy, remember he was not impressed with Katniss or Peeta. In fact he was completely dismissive of them until they both showed that they had a will to fight, he didn’t exactly respect them after that but he did show a real interest in them. Which is the same thing that Haymitch did in his arena from what we were showing in CF, he went off on his own from the start and only after Maysilee saved his life did he see the benefit of having an ally.

One of the key differences that I think was stripped from Haymitch in sotr is the fact that he cares about people, in his own silent way but he does care. Haymitch and Maysilee splitting up in CF made sense and didn’t need any further explanation; they were nearing the end of the games and almost all of the others were dead, they didn’t want to end up fighting each other. It’s a simple reason and we really didn’t need anything more, but then we’re shown that Haymitch did care about Maysilee more then just a person he had allied up with. He ran to her aid when she started screaming, even though he didn’t have to, they were no longer allies but he still cared about her. Sotr makes it seem like Haymitch only ever cares about the others in the arena because they all agreed to be allies, and not because he actually grew to like a person but knew there was no way they’d both make it back alive. Hie entire ‘Nobel hero’ act towards the end with him genuinely willing to die so a different tribute could live was just so… undeserving? We know nothing about the girl, I can’t even remember her name, and Haymitch knowing that he still has a family back home doesn’t even try winning to get back to them.

The forcefield incident was 100% the reason why Haymitch got punished by Snow, becuase come on lets be so realistic; if he destroyed a part of the arena he would have been killed in seconds for doing so. Why would Snow let Haymitch keep playing the game for another 5~ days after he tried to blow up the arena? And then at the end of sotr Haymitch didn’t have a plan to use the forcefield, it read like a complete accident and his victory is a coincidence instead of a clever use of the arena’s capabilities that he knew were there. I can see Haymitch’s family being executed for using the forcefield, but I can’t see Haymitch not being executed for the water tank.

So the propaganda message doesn’t really get shoved down our throats until the very end when Haymitch rewatches the games with Caesar, and I do mean SHOVED down our throats because it was about as subtle as a brick to the face. Haymitch physically tells us that everything has been altered because Collins forgot that it’s show, not tell, and told us everything. (As a side note this is why I hate Lenore Dove. Everything we ‘know’ about her has been told to us and we never get to see her doing any of the things she supposedly cares about.) Haymitch said while watching the re-run that he doesn’t recognize the person he is seeing on the screen and I for one agree with him, because I did not recognize the Haymitch I knew and loved in the original books once in sotr. So Collins just wanted to use propaganda as an excuse for why Haymitch’s personality is so drastically different in the chapter from CF, but its not that simple. His games in CF line up exactly with who Haymitch has been shown to be as a person for the entire series. I’ve seen people try to blame Haymitch’s alcoholism to explain away why he’s so different between the two books, but how did he somehow build all the brain cells he clearly possesses in the og trilogy that were lacking in sotr from being an alcoholic? Sure his personality could pleasingly have changed but his intellect wouldn’t. There was also no need for a propaganda ‘message’ because it doesn’t convey anything we don’t already know about that games, the capital, or propaganda as a whole.

Messaging in books and movies should never be so heavy handed because it implies that the audience is stupid and isn’t able to pick out hints and clues from the text to figure out the message, it comes across as demeaning and insulting. Especially when the ballad of songbirds and snakes does propaganda surpassingly well. The games were loosing traction and nobody wanted to watch them, so what did Snow do? He propagated it. He sold the tributes and the games as an active participant experience for the people of the capital and it worked, the loved it and bought into it. Propaganda by its definition is information, especially of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote or publicize a particular political cause or point of view. Which is what the hunger games are and have always been about in universe. They are a tool to remind people about the war and to keep everyone divided. Selling the tributes is a form of propaganda and it’s not something new to the series.

What are Katniss and Peeta doing for their entire games? Propagating their relationship because it gets them sponsors. Later in CF they have to keep up the image, spreading more falsehoods about their relationship, just to stay alive. Sotr was not the first hunger games book to feature propaganda but it was actively the worse use of it, because propaganda from real world experiences is usually sublet and plays on peoples emotions to get them to believe the falsehoods. What happened in sotr wasn’t propaganda it was erasure of information, which are two very different concepts that do not correlate together in the way that Collins is trying to portray them.

The games we see for Haymitch in CF were 100% the original vision and it’s very clear to me why she did not stick to it; because we already know what happened in his games and it’s boring to read the same thing twice. So she added a bunch of stuff and rewrote Haymitch (and Snow, because neither the Snow we saw in bosas or the og would be ranting about his high school crush to a tribute or making rookie poisoning mistakes) to make the story feel fuller, but it came at a cost to already established lore. I think sotr could have been exactly the same as what we were showing in CF but it shouldn’t have only been his games. The original concept could have been entertaining and original if she wrote only a portion, literally like six chapters at most about the games, and then everything else about his life afterwards and the next few years of tributes. I know why the book is the way that it is, but it doesn’t make it magically good or excuse it for being poorly written. Personally I never wanted a Haymitch book because I knew something like this could happen, which is the same reason I don’t want a Finnick book, neither of them work because we don’t actually care about the games themselves do we? Sure 48 kids is an interesting concept for a game, but it was barely used to its full potential in sotr. What I think people were actually more curious about was Haymitch’s deterioration, which we got in a half asssed way, because we knew he spent majority of the game itself on his own so we never would have gotten to know the other tributes properly regardless. But let me ask you now, what would you actually want to see: Finnick being in the arena and winning the games, somehow as a 14 year old despite the fact that we know he’s from a career district and it would be unlikely that nobody volunteered for him? Or what happened afterwards with Snow selling him as an escort and Finnick eventually finding love with Annie, maybe seeing how he gets pulled into the rebellion because he has a lot of good reasons to be in one? I know which one I’d pick and it will never be the one we get if it does happen.

As for the rebellion, I think we could have gotten a good buildup and set up for the early rebellion but again I don’t think it could ever be Haymitch, or at least not the way it was portrayed in sotr. The thing with rebellions however is they are unpredictable in their nature. They could take a few days to a few years to start. Katniss and Peeta almost killing themselves and almost leaving the capital without a victor is actually a very believable and frankly powerful spark to start a rebellion, as it was meant to be. I don’t doubt that the victors have all been talking between each other for years before that and contemplating an uprising, but the way it happened in sotr is laughable. Nobodies dies for trying to take down the capital: not Haymitch, not Beetee, not Mags, not Wiress, not Plutarch, and Snow knows about the whole thing. It’s so shrouded in plot armour it feels suffocating as a story, because there were no consequences.

[rolandkaros]

forever hilarious to me that tennis is promoted as this prestigious highbrow big-brain sport when most tennis fans these days are like. yeah this is my favorite player. yeah i don't know why they're like that. yes they are stupid. no i will not choose somebody else.

[randomnameless]

Not at all !

Alm isn't a bad protagonist, but the way the game happens reminded me of FE8's Ephraim : sure he is always "right" as in his choices are the best ones* (save for that moment when he tried to 1VS1 Fomor-Lyon and got rekt'd) and he ends up king and all so on a larger scale it's A-Ok for him, but regarding his personal journey?

It's supposed to be a tragedy.

Alm ends up in a better, I suppose, mental state because Celica is around, but through the course of the game he had to kill his douche dad and cousin, because douche dad had a Master Plan (tm) and when Alm expresses anguish and is legitimately upset about the Master Plan (tm), his (grand)father figure tells him to man up and finish the work...

(and let's not even talk about his mother, who is pretty much alive as revealed in the OVA/CD drama thing? But, iirc, because of the Master Plan (tm), she became a nun and could apparently not interact with her son...)

It has been some time since I played the game, but damn if, at that point, Alm killing Celica might have been the straw that broke the camel's back, if Mila didn't intervene to resurrect her somehow.

I know FE13 told us Valm exists and everything was rosy before Walmart did his thing - but I really loved Alm's line where he's desperate to save his trash cousin and doesn't want to kill him because, hey, sure Alm is the new Emperor of Rigel per Rudy's death wish, but he's still the man who invaded the land, trounced its army and killed the former emperor.

Alm pleading for Berkut's assistance and support to help him grow in the role of the Emperor - especially since Berkut was born and raised as a member of Rigel's family so he might now how things work there - to win over the people felt very interesting if someone else wrote that bit lol.

However, Berkut prefers to kill his fiancée and fight (after being hurt in the worst way possible by Rudy and his Master Plan (tm) ) so Alm somehow ends up thinking that Berkut's madness was caused by Duma -> lizards BaD, Gods BaD and the plot continues this way -

(even if, in the post game, we still end up with the Grima reveal and the fuckery that humanity is able to pull which makes Alm's "humanity fuck yeah!" really hollow, but I guess it was something that was compulsory as FE15 is a remake of FE2 - we see what Kusakihara did when he became the director for an entire new game!)

The game glazes Rudy so much that his Master Plan (tm) will never be called out for what it truly is.

To make Rudy a very tragic hero (tm), everything wrong in Valentia is somehow Duma's fault. Lima banging people against their wills, his minister wanting to sit on his throne to the point of berning Lima's own heirs, Jerome being a loser, Berkut being himself, etc...

FE15 tries to be two things at once and it shows - but fwiw, before the shitstorm that was the last arc (before the post game!) where Kusakihara tried to retrofit all of his r/atheism rhetoric FE15, being the remake of FE2 must still end with some "For whatever madness lay in the hearts of gods… a darkness deeper still beats wild in the hearts of man…" Alm was still a farmboy who eats raw flour and joined the war to show everyone his grandfather is no coward and he wants to protect the people who are being attacked by Rigel and the monsters Duma apparently summons.

His "but everything wrong happens because of Duma, let's starve if it means we won't be under the god's influence anymore" felt so forced that I legit remember back when I played being WTF with the script, where did that came from and all - especially when the game started with Alm wanting to help the Zofians at first, are we suppose he's okay now with Valentia starving because humanity fuck yeah??

With the hindsight of what was Kusakihara's next game... poor Celica was doomed from the start lol.

*For Alm, it's best as in "moral", even if his friends criticise him over them, I know the "Clive is a human" became a meme, but if Alm decides to save Delthea and fails to rescue Mathilda, Clive will lash out at him, because rescuing Delthea made them lose time/resources (iirc?) that could have been used to rescue Mathilda...

1 Python and 8 Celica for the ask game!

FE15!

Python then!

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

Purely based on mechanics here, I liked him because archers in Valentia are stupidly good, but dude missed so many "80-90% hit rate" shots that using him was always a gamble.

TFW you're RNG screwed :(

But I confess I also like his dynamics with Forsyth - even as barebones as the support convos were in FE15, you can guess that their bond is very important, since Python's death makes Forsyth abandon his dream of being a knight!

Celica :

8. What’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Well...

(does kusakihara count as fandom??)

Celica took a blow to the face with the "remake", which I feel makes her less of an heroine than FE2, aka a NES game, did. Sure, Alm was still the one who ended up with the Falchion, but part 4/5 of FE15 is still, to date, one of the worst parts of any FE I've played (the winner is still FE10's last segment) and Celica's treatment in this part reflected the remake's, uh, new vision about Alm more than anything else, aka, "Alm is always right", so Celica must be hilariously "wrong".

Fandom wise...

Oh boy, I don't know if you were around when FE15 was released and/or played, but bar the very "clive is a human meme", we basically had a lot of people calling Celica stupid for going along with Jedah's plans and accepting to sacrifice herself (she never thoughts her friends too would be killed!) to save Mila and Duma.

And, I have always been like, sure, this game's writing during this part was bonkers, but... it sort of made sense, all things considered, for Celica? Sure we had a lot of red flags as in "don't throw your life away" and all, but she really believed that Valentia would be lost without the Gods, and Jedah made compelling - to her - points that convinced her that she had to sacrifice herself to help and heal Duma/save Miloa.

Celica's despairing because she feels like without the Gods Valentia is doomed (which is hilariously echoed through Alm's "sure without the gods we will starve, but at least we'll be free from their intervention!" like, yeah Celica, Valentia'll be doomed, but if it survives, then somehow it'll be better bcs Duma'n'Mila won't be there, trust the devs, it's supposed to work this way). Celica is the one who saw pirates and bandits harassing people in Zofia and got rid of them, she knows the people of Valentia are suffering because the Gods aren't here/alright anymore, so it'd make sense that as desperate as she grows through her journey, she ends up believing Jedah's words...

Even if it was a really convoluted way to have Alm rescue with a very "white sword red blood" scene exclusive to the remake.

Sure it felt like an idiot plot ball, but given the circumstances and the writing before this decision, while Celica swallows an idiot plot ball, it's less on her character and more on the "we wanted her to be damsel'd so Alm could save her + make her do something perceived as foolish and reckless being the culmination of her ideals to have Alm's POV shine more brightly in comparison" thing.

to this day i'm still positively sure that FE15 was kusakihara draft to see how much "religion BaD" and Humanity Fuck Yeah!"" he could insert in a FE game

So yeah, Celica being called out for the "bonkers" choice she picks through the course of the game isn't her being a moron, but the writers/directors writing her to be Wrong (tm) with as much subtlety as a sledgehammer.

[thepencilnerd]

take a slice

Summary: No one could imagine a more cunning or manipulative player than Shuntaro Chishiya—until he meets you. complete fic on my ao3 here <3 Word Count: 3.8k Contains: Depictions of violence, unresolved sexual tension, emotional constipation

A/N: because I binge-watched Alice In Borderland in the span of two days and I am very late to the party (but never too late for self-indulgent fan service)

Chishiya spots you across the same floor, your black silhouette nearly lost in the shadows of the night. It’s only your movement that catches his attention, the dark outerwear a sharp contrast to his bright white jacket. You and he are the only players scouting from this vantage point, watching from above while the chaos brews below.

The night is eerily quiet—the calm before the storm, as they say. Your gaze locks onto his, and for a moment, time seems to freeze. Chishiya feels his heartbeat falter, a fleeting hitch he quickly tamps down.

Before he can fully process it, you’ve already vanished around a corner, just as a rain of bullets peppers the area behind you.

A boy’s voice echoes from below, frantic. "The only way to clear this game is to work together!"

Bullshit , you think.

There must be a reason behind the attacker's anchoring position, Chishiya muses.

Of course.

When you finally make your way to the safe room, you’re welcomed by four unfamiliar figures: the spree-killing horse, the brunette boy from earlier, a girl with a bob, and the blonde. 

Chishiya strikes swiftly, the crackle of his taser breaking the stillness. The masked attacker crumples to the floor, their face hitting the ground with a muffled thud. You waste no time, stomping down hard on their wrist, sending the gun skittering from their hand. Before they can recover, you grab the weapon and fire a single round into the crown of their skull. 

When you glance up, you catch the faintest trace of a smirk ghosting across the blonde’s face, but it’s gone just as quickly.

In the seconds that follow, the two other players in the room hastily slam their hands on the red buttons lining the walls.

GAME COMPLETE. CONGRATULATIONS WINNERS. 

Turning around, a pair of wide eyes greets you. 

“Thank you,” the boy finally speaks, addressing you and the blonde in a shaky voice. 

You respond with a nod, glancing over at the girl and seeing her return the acknowledgement. 

“Don’t mention it.” The blonde’s condescending tone from behind you is paralleled only by his burning gaze, locking onto you immediately. He almost misses seeing you slip something from the dead body into your pocket. 

You feel his focus linger on you as you leave the room. 

The night air is thick with tension, the distant cries from nearby arenas only amplifying the silence with each footstep behind you. You don’t bother turning around; you already know who it is.

Chishiya steps into your peripheral vision, his pace unhurried, like a cat stalking in the shadows. The forest buzzes with the threat of unseen dangers, but all his attention is locked on you.

"You didn’t have to kill him," he says, his voice casual, almost amused, as though discussing the weather.

You don’t stop walking. "You didn’t stop me."

A quiet chuckle escapes him, barely more than a breath. "True." His tone remains light, but there’s an edge beneath it, like he’s testing you, challenging you. "Still, you’ve got a certain efficiency. Impressive."

Your expression stays neutral. And yet, Chishiya’s presence beside you stirs something strange—a shared awareness, as if you’re both circling an invisible boundary neither of you are quite ready to cross—yet.

"You took something," he says, breaking the silence again, his voice calm but probing. His gaze stays forward, unreadable. "From the body."

You glance at him briefly, just enough to meet his eyes, which glint with curiosity under the moonlight. He’s trying to figure you out.

"And what if I did?" There’s a challenge in your voice now.

Chishiya’s smirk returns, faint but unmistakable. "Nothing. For now."

The tension between you tightens, pulling you closer in the silence. The game isn’t over. Not between the two of you.

As you continue walking, he trails behind, but soon loses sight of you in the dense trees. Shadows shift, swallowing you whole. He barely has time to catch his breath before a sudden force slams him to the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs. The disturbed soil and decaying leaves soften his fall, but his back still hits the earth with a solid thud.

Your knee digs sharply into his sternum, pinning him down. One hand tightens around his throat, not enough to choke him but enough to strain his breath. The cold, unforgiving edge of a blade presses against his cheek—a silent threat.

Chishiya’s indifferent expression makes your skin crawl, yet his stoic, unflinching gaze cuts through the moment like a dagger—piercing both hot and cold at once. Neither of you speak. It’s a game of cat and cat, both of you testing the other's resolve in this tense, silent standoff.

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if you can read each other’s thoughts.

You feel him gulp beneath your hand, his pulse quickening under your fingers. Both of his hands remain raised in surrender by his ears, calm, unwavering, and empty of any weapon or defense. His eyes flicker to the deep scar on your neck, lingering there for just a moment.

The air between you thickens. What feels like minutes pass in the span of heartbeats.

Without warning, you spring up and disappear into the night.

Chishiya stays on the ground for a moment, catching his breath. He sits up slowly, eyes tracing the path you took into the darkness. His chest rises and falls unevenly, the phantom cold of the blade still lingering on his skin. Silence wraps around him like a fog, but his pulse betrays him—racing, driven by more than just adrenaline.

For the first time in longer than he can remember, he feels something—a strange tug deep in his core, like something vital slipped away the moment you left. A curiosity stirs, mingling with the remnants of tension, a silent acknowledgment that this game isn’t over.

It’s only just begun.

Chishiya’s lips twitch into a faint smirk. Your piercing gaze and the scar on your neck are seared into his mind. He knows he’ll see you again. And next time, he won’t be caught off guard.

“You look like you have something on your mind.”

Kuina sits down across from Chishiya, her curiosity piqued as she watches him stare off into the distance. The evening air is still, a rare calmness settling over the Beach after a chaotic night.

Chishiya leans back, crossing his arms, a faint hum escaping his lips. “Just an interesting game tonight,” he replies casually, but there’s a lingering spark in his gaze that betrays more.

Kuina raises an eyebrow. “Must’ve been some game, then.”

“Perhaps,” Chishiya says, his voice smooth and unhurried. The rush of endorphins from the near-death experience still thrums faintly through his veins. 

The cause? A player whose actions were as cunning and unpredictable as his own. The thrill of narrowing down their motivations felt like a puzzle finally worth solving.

His mind drifts back to the game, replaying each moment like scenes in a movie. The chaos, the desperate shouts, and the blaring alarms all felt distant—mere background noise compared to the razor-sharp focus he'd found himself drawn to. That focus was centered on one person.

You had been an anomaly from the start. There was a precision in the way you moved, calculated and unfazed by the panic unraveling around you. It was as if you thrived on the chaos, embraced it even, letting it fuel each step you took. While the other players were scrambling to find shelter or allies, you seemed to anticipate every move, predicting the patterns before they even unfolded.

And then, the moment that had truly hooked him: the kill. Cold, efficient, and executed without a trace of hesitation. You weren’t just surviving; you were playing the game in its purest form—adapting, evolving, always a step ahead. There was no hesitation in your actions, no unnecessary flourish—just the unyielding will to end a threat. It wasn’t just about self-preservation; it was about winning. And that’s what made you different.

Chishiya’s curiosity flared the instant your eyes met his in the aftermath. For the briefest moment, he’d seen a flicker of something—recognition, maybe even a hint of challenge. Like you were silently asking him if he had what it took to keep up.

It was absurd, really, to feel anything in the Borderlands beyond the mechanical urge to survive. But something had shifted tonight. For the first time in what felt like forever, the game had become more than a series of calculated risks and rewards: it had become interesting.

Chishiya’s gaze shifts back to the window where lights scatter the sky. His fingers tap idly on the armrest of his chair, a rhythm betraying the restlessness he tries to mask. He’s always prided himself on being detached, keeping emotions and sentiment far from his calculations. Yet here he is, preoccupied with thoughts that don't have a place in his carefully constructed logic.

"You're quiet," Kuina observes, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. "More than usual, I mean."

Chishiya’s smirk is faint, barely there. “Am I?”

She shrugs, leaning back in her seat. “You’ve been lost in your own head since you got back.” 

Chishiya’s expression doesn’t falter, but there’s a slight shift in his demeanor—a barely perceptible sign of vulnerability, quickly smoothed over. “Maybe I’m just considering... possibilities,” he replies, the words coming slower than usual, as if he’s testing how they sound. 

Kuina’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Possibilities, huh?” She tilts her head, studying him. “That’s one way of putting it. Or maybe… a person?”

Chishiya’s silence is uncharacteristic. He feels the pull to dismiss the notion immediately, to scoff at the idea of being distracted by a person, much less affected by them. But instead, he pauses. It’s enough for Kuina to catch on, her curiosity piqued.

“Interesting,” she murmurs, a teasing smile curling on her lips. “You’re actually thinking about someone, aren’t you?” When he doesn’t respond, she presses further. “It’s a girl, right? Did she do something to catch your eye?”

Chishiya finally meets her gaze, his own guarded but not entirely dismissive. “She’s... unusual,” he admits, the words coming out almost reluctantly. “Not like the others.”

Kuina arches an eyebrow. “Unusual how? Smart? Dangerous?”

“Both,” he replies without hesitation. “Efficient, focused. But there’s something else.” He uncrosses his arms, feeling oddly exposed, as though admitting to these thoughts makes them more real, more tangible. “It’s like she’s not playing the same game as the rest of them.”

Kuina studies him for a moment, then lets out a soft laugh. “You’ve got it bad,” she says, shaking her head. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d be drawn to someone for more than their utility.”

He scoffs, a ghost of his usual arrogance returning. “Don’t get carried away. I’m only interested because she might be useful.”

“Sure,” Kuina says with a knowing grin. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Chishiya falls silent again, but the truth gnaws at him. He knows it’s more than just her utility in the grand scheme of escaping this hellhole. It’s the way she challenges him—forces him to reevaluate his strategies and makes him wonder if there’s more to this game than just surviving.

He hates how that thought clings to him, even as he tries to push it away.

Chishiya shifts in his chair, feeling a dull ache radiate from his chest. He’s been operating on a different level since encountering you, and the physical reminder feels almost like an anchor to what he’s been trying to navigate.

He glances at Kuina, who’s still watching him with an amused expression, still probing. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

“Just considering my next move,” he replies, a hint of a smirk returning to his lips. “The game is full of variables, and I need to prepare for them.”

“Variables, huh? Is that what you call her now?” Kuina teases, leaning forward, her elbows resting on the table.

“Focus,” he snaps lightly, but there’s no real heat in his voice. Instead, his mind races ahead to the next game, and how he can draw you in, maybe even observe you more closely. He’s already picturing the scenarios—the players, the setting, the stakes.

What he really wants is a way to see you again. To understand the force that pulls him toward you, the complexity that makes you more than just another player. The anticipation churns within him, exciting yet unnerving.

“What if I made a move to recruit her?” he muses aloud, considering the prospect. “She could be an asset. If she operates outside the norm, that could change the dynamics of our strategies.”

“Or it could blow up in your face,” Kuina counters, her tone light but her gaze serious. “You’re not exactly known for your emotionality, Chishiya. What if she doesn’t want to play?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies, brushing off her concern. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

But the truth is, he knows that this isn’t merely about the game anymore. It’s about the way you make him feel—like a player in a game he thought he understood, now suddenly complex and exhilarating. Chishiya can’t shake the thought that if he wants to unlock the potential you represent, he’ll have to make a move soon.

He allows himself a moment of vulnerability, resting his chin on his hand as he reflects. “What if I want to see her again, Kuina? What if it’s not just about strategy anymore?”

Kuina’s eyes widen, clearly surprised by his admission. “Wow. You’re actually admitting you care.”

Chishiya rolls his eyes but can’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Sure,” she says, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Just remember, sometimes the best strategies are the ones that come from the heart.”

With that, Chishiya’s mind drifts again, calculating and assessing. He’ll be ready for the next game. He’ll be prepared to take any risk to find you again, to unravel the mystery of what you truly are: a partner, a rival, or perhaps something more. As the night draws to a close, the shadows deepen, but a flicker of determination ignites within him.

He will see you again.

A few days have passed since the last game, but the adrenaline still courses through your veins, lingering like a ghost. You survived, but the victory feels hollow, overshadowed by the memory of the indifferent blonde boy who’s drawn you in more than you care to admit.

Your thoughts drift back to that game—its intensity still vivid in your mind. It was like no other you’d experienced, where survival felt more like a dance with death than a struggle against it. And he was at the center of it, moving through the chaos with a calculated grace that caught your attention long before you understood why.

It wasn’t just that he was calm under pressure. Plenty of players had nerves of steel. It was his indifference, the way he seemed detached from the dangers around him, as though nothing could touch him. Where others flinched or panicked, he merely observed, as if the unfolding chaos was a puzzle to solve rather than a life-or-death situation. That kind of control was rare in the Borderlands, and in some strange way, it felt like a dare, an unspoken challenge that made you want to test him, to see if there was anything that could shatter that composure.

You remember the moment you locked eyes across the chaos, the way the world seemed to fade into the background. It was brief, but in that instant, it felt like a silent conversation—an understanding that went beyond words. There was something sharp in his gaze, a spark of curiosity that mirrored your own. It was as if he was evaluating you, sizing you up just as you were doing to him. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if you were seeing a part of yourself reflected back in those cold, calculating eyes.

But it wasn’t just his composure or his gaze that drew you in. It was the way he acted in those crucial seconds when lives hung in the balance. While others scrambled to save themselves, he made moves that seemed almost playful, like he was toying with the danger rather than simply evading it. There was a thrill in watching him maneuver through the madness with an ease that bordered on arrogance, as though he was always three steps ahead of everyone else—including you.

And then there was the moment when the game ended. You had both survived, of course, but there was something in the way he looked at you afterward, something that lingered, a faint smirk that hinted he had seen more than you’d intended to reveal. It wasn’t pity; it was as if he recognized a kindred spirit, someone who understood the game on a different level. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt truly seen. 

That feeling unsettles you even now, as you sit by the fire, staring into the flames. It’s not that you seek validation in the Borderlands; you’ve learned long ago that the only approval that matters is your own. But there’s something about his quiet confidence, the way he seemed to acknowledge you without saying a word, that’s hard to shake. It makes you wonder if he was as unaffected as he appeared or if there was more beneath the surface, something hidden behind that cool exterior.

You clench your jaw, frustrated with yourself for even thinking about him this much. He was just another player—albeit a skilled one—and you’ve dealt with plenty of them before. But there’s a part of you that can’t ignore the way his presence lingers, like a splinter in your mind, a question that refuses to be answered.

Why did he make such an impression on you? Was it his composure, his intelligence, or the quiet thrill of crossing paths with someone who didn’t play by the same rules as everyone else? Or was it the way he seemed to see you in return, as if you were more than just a piece on the board?

You realize that you don’t know the answers—and perhaps that’s what’s most intriguing of all. There’s an unfinished quality to your last encounter, a feeling that your story with him isn’t over yet. It’s as if the game itself has drawn a line between you, daring you to cross it again.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss the thoughts that have become stubborn visitors in your mind. Why does he occupy your thoughts so much? Is it his calm indifference, the way he moved with calculated grace? Or is it something more that stirs a curiosity you can’t quite define?

Pushing the thoughts aside, you focus on your routine, an independent existence in the Borderlands, where survival means mastering skills few have the patience to learn. You've carved out a small camp nestled within the trees, camouflaged by foliage, a sanctuary of sorts amidst the chaos.

Every morning, you rise before dawn, the cool air biting at your skin as you check your traps. The gentle sounds of the forest waking around you are a familiar symphony, one you find solace in. You harvest small game—rabbits, birds, whatever you can catch—and meticulously prepare them, savoring the simple act of cooking over a small fire.

Hunting and foraging have become second nature. You collect wild herbs and edible plants, storing them in makeshift pouches crafted from scavenged materials. Each successful hunt reminds you of your resilience and strength. 

But even as you focus on these tasks, your mind drifts back to him—the blonde boy from the game. The way his piercing gaze seemed to see right through you, as if he was calculating your every move. It’s unsettling yet exhilarating, a contradiction you can’t wrap your head around.

The sun climbs higher, and you take a break from your chores to wash your hands in a nearby stream, the water refreshing against your skin. As you splash your face, you catch your reflection in the rippling surface, a mix of determination and uncertainty staring back at you.

You spend the afternoon working on camp, reinforcing the makeshift walls and clearing away debris that threatens your space. But even as you work to distract yourself, you can almost feel his presence lurking at the edge of your thoughts, his smirk dancing on your mind like a memory that refuses to fade.

Eventually, you settle on a log outside your camp, a piece of driftwood you dragged from the riverbank. Pulling out your small notebook, you begin to sketch the maps of the Borderlands, noting down resources and potential hideouts. It’s practical, a way to keep your mind sharp, but each mark on the page feels like a tether to the games, to the players who dance around you like shadows.

You reach into your pocket and pull out the small, crumpled piece of paper you took from the body during the game. You’ve looked at it countless times since then, trying to make sense of the chaotic scribbles. It’s a series of numbers and symbols—coordinates, perhaps, or some kind of code. Whatever it is, it’s not immediately clear, and that only deepens your curiosity.

You flatten the paper against the rough surface of the log, comparing it with your sketches. Could it be a location in the Borderlands? A clue to something hidden or an upcoming game? The patterns don’t align with any familiar maps, but something about the markings feels deliberate, as though there’s a message buried within them. You trace the lines with your finger, committing them to memory, trying to see what the original owner had seen. What was so important that they’d die with it?

Your mind drifts back to the moment you took it. The blonde boy’s eyes had flickered towards you—just for a heartbeat—when you pocketed the paper. Did he know what it meant, or had he noticed the same curiosity in you that you now feel?

As you draw, memories of the game resurface: his calculated moves, his indifferent demeanor, and the strange thrill of standing against him. There’s something magnetic about his presence, something that both fascinates and frustrates you.

In the fading light of dusk, you close your eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of the forest wash over you. The call of distant birds, the rustle of branches—each note a reminder that you’re alive, that you’re here, navigating a world filled with peril and unpredictability. But still, the thought lingers. Will your paths cross in the next game, or will you remain a ghost in his memory?

With a sigh, you shake your head and return to your sketches, determination settling in your chest. It doesn’t matter. Yet, in the depths of your mind, a part of you yearns for that inevitable meeting, that chance to unravel the enigma that is the blonde boy.

As darkness settles over the forest, you tuck your notebook away, the images of your maps a promise of the journey ahead. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new games to navigate. And if fate has its way, perhaps it will also bring him back into your orbit once more.

[sailortongue]

Lima Bean

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: kenji makes his intentions clear and a certain reporter is a little too committed to his job

an: ik the title is kinda dumb but bear with me i have an idea (title is still subject to change if the idea falls through). also tags are being kind of silly and I don't know how to get them to act right so if you asked to be tagged but didn't get notified I swear I tried 😭

wc: 2k

navi | prev | series mlist

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“I’m pregnant.”

Those two words changed Kenji’s entire demeanor in seconds. His face dropped and his jaw hung open in complete disbelief. “. . . Are you sure?” He asked. 

“Positive test, missed period, morning sickness,” you listed off. “I’m going to make an OBGYN appointment anyway just to be 100% sure, but so far yeah I’m pretty sure.”

“Ah,” was all he could say in response, his mind both blank and racing at the same time. Had he really not used protection? Was he that drunk? He tried to think back to that night, but all he could seem to remember was a flash of you under him and his lips on your neck. His face immediately flushed scarlet. 

“Are you angry?” You asked, noticing the rapid shift in his complexion. 

He rushed to deny your assumption. “No! No, nothing like that. I'm just . . . not sure what to make of this.”

“I know how you feel,” you said wryly. “Just thought you should know, I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling almost hollow inside with the knowledge that your life was about to undergo a drastic change.

“I appreciate it, thank you. If you don’t mind, uh,” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “I'd like to be present. To be a father.” He thought back to when he took care of Emi and how much he came to love her. He was confident in his ability to take care of his own biological child, even if these weren’t the circumstances in which he imagined he’d have one. 

You looked at him as if you were meeting him for the very first time, entirely taken aback by his willingness to step up. Truthfully you'd expected him to deny any responsibility, but there he was, asking to raise the baby alongside you—to step up to the metaphorical plate and be a dad. “Really? And you’re not going to leave at the first inconvenience?”

“No. You have my word on that.” His expression was one of utmost sincerity. “I want to be a dad. Granted, this isn’t how I expected it,” he laughed awkwardly, “but it’s how it happened, and I won't run away from it.”

You gave him a soft smile. “I'll be honest, I didn't expect you to be so noble.”

“Thought I’d tell you to get rid of it or just throw a check at you to never contact me again? I understand the concern, but I want to be there every step of the way.”

“Then, would you like to come with me for my appointment? I haven’t scheduled it yet but . . .” you trailed off, realizing you were asking a very busy man to take time out of his day to accompany you to a doctor's appointment. “Unless of course you’re busy or don’t want to,” you added quickly.

He laughed at how flustered you’d gotten. “I'll be there. No matter the weather, practice, or a game, I will be there. That’s my kid you’ve got in there after all,” he said with a broad grin on his face as he pointed to your abdomen. “And that takes priority over everything else.”

“Wow. You’re smitten with something that’s probably the size of a lima bean right now,” you teased.

“Woah now, that’s our lima bean and I’m going to be the best dad a bean could wish for,” he asserted, imagining teaching his future son or daughter to play baseball with him or helping with homework, even what it would be like to do his daughter’s hair, or perhaps teaching his son how to tie a tie.

He was snapped from his thoughts when you slid your phone towards him from across the table, the screen displaying a new contact. “If we're going to be coparenting we should have each other's numbers.”

He picked up the device to input his number and then checked his own phone. He showed you the screen, a message from your own number displayed there. 

It was only when he handed your phone back to you that you noticed how late it had already become. “Oh wow, I didn’t realize the time. I didn't mean to keep you so late,” you apologized. 

“No no, it’s fine. I'm glad you, or, Ami, I guess, insisted we have this conversation in person. Think if I had been told over text I’d still be sitting on the couch reading it over and over again,” he laughed. 

“That was how I felt looking at the test. It didn’t feel real.” You had a smile that mirrored his own, and you couldn’t believe how fortunate you were that Kenji wasn’t the douche you expected he’d be when he found out. Quite the opposite, to your pleasant surprise.

“Do you need a ride back home?” He asked earnestly, not quite ready to say bye. After all, you hadn’t  allowed him the chance the last time you had met. 

You shook your head as you stood from the table. “No, I drove here, but thanks anyway. I guess I'll keep in touch?”

He hummed in affirmation, standing from his chair, his impressive height towering over you. He gestured for you to walk first, following close behind you, his hand lightly pressed to your lower back as he walked with you to your car. While the two of you were wishing each other good night, another patron of the cafe was typing furiously into his phone, notifying his boss that he had just overheard the sport's world's juiciest scandal in months.

-❀-

The first thing you did the following day was schedule an appointment with an obstetrician. There had been a recent cancellation so you were able to get a slot in just a few days. You sent Kenji a text to notify him when and where, a small part of you looking forward to seeing him again. He responded quickly, saying he would definitely be there. 

When the day came, he called you to ask if you wanted to go together, rather than take two cars. You agreed and told him your address, choosing to wait for him inside due to the biting cold of December. When you heard a car pull up, you exited your home, and it took all of your willpower not to gawk at his car, which was probably worth more than your entire house. You saw the driver's door begin to open, and he stepped out, breathtakingly handsome as usual. He pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and waved, greeting you with a jovial “Morning!”

“Good morning, Kenji,” you returned, a smile gracing your features. 

As you approached the car, he slid back into the driver's seat and looked over at you, taking in the sight of the mother of his future child. He'd lain awake all night, playing with the idea over and over in his mind. He was really going to be a dad. How different could it be to raise a human baby if he’d already done so with a 20-foot-tall kaiju baby?

You noticed his gaze in your peripheral vision, but as you turned to look at him he snapped his attention forward and made himself busy with inputting the name of the doctor’s office you’d given him into the GPS. 

The ride was filled with pleasant small talk, asking each other how you had been since last time, basically avoiding the elephant in the room and talking about everything except the new life between you. After parking, he made sure to open the door to the office for you and entered after you, a rush of cold air enveloping you as you approached the front desk. You confirmed your appointment with the receptionist, and she directed the two of you to sit in the waiting room and told you your name would be called when the doctor was ready. 

As you were waiting, you noticed Kenji’s leg bouncing up and down rapidly, showing his nerves despite it not even being his appointment. You took the opportunity that had presented itself and placed your hand atop his knee. He looked over at you, his brown eyes wide and his lips pressed into a thin line. “You can wait in the car if you’d prefer—“

“No!” He all but shouted, refusing to let you believe for even one second that he would run out. “I said I would be here for you and I will,” he said adamantly, placing his hand over yours where it was still on his knee and squeezing tightly, a physical reassurance that we was staying put. 

“y/n l/n.” You heard your name called.  You and Kenji stood together, his hand not releasing yours. Instead, he rubbed calming circles on the skin as you were escorted into the patient rooms, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was meant to ease his nerves or yours. Either way, it was a sweet gesture.

-❀-

The gel was cold as it was spread across your exposed skin, sending shivers up your spine. A grainy black and white image showed up on the screen, and the doctor pointed to a small grey object depicted on it, surrounded by a sea of black. “This,” she started, “is the fetus.” You looked at the screen in awe before glancing over at Kenji. He was seated in a chair against the wall, his elbows braced on his knees as he leaned forward, his attention rapt on the screen and his lips open in a small “o” shape. 

The doctor chuckled at your amazed reactions. “Excited to be parents?” She asked.

You don’t think Kenji even heard her, so you answered. “To be totally honest, this was unexpected, but I think we can make it work. Kenji here made it very clear that he wants to be a dad.”

“That's wonderful to hear. Well, looking at the scan I'd say you’re about 7 weeks along and you can expect to welcome the baby around August 11. 

Kenji was practically bubbling as you each took your seats in the car, and he kept stealing glances at your tummy even if you weren’t showing any visible change yet. 

-❀-

These past few days of tailing the nation's sweetheart baseball player were so worth it, thought the man sitting in his car while browsing through the photos of Kenji Sato and a woman he’d never been seen with before entering and leaving an OBGYN facility together. Interesting. Very interesting. With those photos there was no denying that Kenji Sato, baseball heartthrob, was a soon-to-be father.

-❀-

Kenji put the car in park in your driveway. You made to get out of the car until he exclaimed “Wait!” You re-situated yourself on the seat, angling yourself towards him. He seemed almost at war with himself, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to actually say what had prompted him to stop you from leaving. “Would you, uh,” he faltered, chuckling awkwardly. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” He gave you a hopeful look. 

Heat flushed across your face and ears, and you beamed at him. “Doing things way out of order aren’t we?” You joked. 

He laughed mirthfully as well. “Way out of order,” he agreed. “So, was that a yes? To go out?”

“Yes, that was a yes,” you giggled, finding his eagerness endearingly sweet.

He nodded his head. “Ok. Ok, great. Are you free this Saturday? I'll pick you up?”

“I’ll see you then,” you agreed cheerfully, and, deciding to take another risk since you were doing things all out of order anyway, you leaned over and placed a quick peck against his cheek before hopping out of the car and waving goodbye. He continued to wait in the car until he saw you safely enter your home, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest and his face crimson red, one hand placed lightly against where your lips had touched his skin. 

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[starcurtain]

A Closer Look at the Phaidei Memory

I've seen so many people talking about this scene with Phainon and Mydei and making fun of how blatantly obvious Phainon is about his... respect for Mydei's... conspicuous body, but one thing I feel like a lot of people missed (or at least I haven't seen anyone discussing) is that this memory seems to come from very early on in their acquaintance.

Looking at it closely, it's clear that the two aren't particularly familiar with each other yet in this memory sequence. For one, Phainon questions things that he should easily know if he was well-acquainted with Mydei already.

First, very comically: "Do you even bathe, bro?"

And second, Phainon questions why Mydei isn't immune to the black tide:

This suggests that, up to the point of this memory, Phainon had not been in enough battles with Mydei (or at least close enough to Mydei) to see him be affected by the black tide. Apparently, this memory-Phainon-and-Mydei don't have years of rushing into battle side-by-side to defend Okhema yet.

It's also hilariously clear that the Phainon in this memory has absolutely no idea how to talk to Mydei.

Breaking this scene down, it's literally Phainon just trying really hard to strike up conversation, doing his best to try to crack the tough exterior and get Mydei to actually interact with him. He jumps around through topics rapidly--the baths, the black tide, their personal sparring--looking for anything that will catch Mydei's attention.

Meanwhile, we can tell that Mydei is not particularly familiar or comfortable with Phainon yet because his dialogue is so different from any of his other scenes in the game. Although Mydei is obviously not the game's biggest yapper, he does always have full sentences to contribute to other conversations and banters readily with Phainon whenever he's baited into it.

In this memory, he instead starts off polite but also completely aloof:

This is the exact sort of response you'd have to a vague acquaintance coming up and trying to talk to you like you're best friends. Phainon skipped at least four steps of familiarity here, and Mydei is obviously at a loss for why the conversation is even happening.

He responds by blatantly stonewalling, answering Phainon's (slightly pathetic) attempts to start an actual conversation in nothing but single word answers:

You can even see Phainon recognize how bad he's failing half way through the conversation, which prompts him to vocally declare that he's going to make a complete topic switch:

And this time, it works!

When Phainon brings up their personal duel or spar, whichever it was, finally, finally Mydei caves and engages in the conversation with him:

Which prompts Phainon to laugh (in relief? lol) and flat out crow about how he's finally cracked the code and figured out how to get Mydei to notice him:

Poor Mydei, however, did not seem to realize his slight display of interest was going to lead him into a full conversation, and he responds to Phainon's blatant invitation to keep talking with a confused:

Witness Mydei accidentally turning down Phainon's request for a date in real time.

The only thing that complicates the situation is what Phainon says late in the memory: that they've battled "all this time." However, looking at his earlier comments, this last statement may just be in a general sense, as in "two Chrysos Heirs who have been fighting the titans for years," especially as the rest of the line "How do you train? Would you consider teaching me?" once again indicates a lack of close familiarity.

(It's also possible this line is just poorly translated in English, and was actually meant to refer to their legendary ten-day-long duel: "We battled all that time, yet I never saw you fatigued." Given the rest of the lines in the memory, I think "dodgy translation" honestly makes the most sense here, and would also just have really funny implications: Phainon and Mydei didn't fall in love at first sight; they fell in comically-long-duel at first sight. Okay, maybe for Phainon it was both.)

Phainon's earlier statements in the memory make it clear that he isn't very experienced with fighting Mydei specifically, with the overall implication of the dialogue being that they've just had their first duel against each other recently:

So anyway, where I am going with all this?

I know a lot of people got distracted by Phainon's (accidental?) pass at Mydei in the first line, but I think taking a step back and looking at the scene as a whole, in context, makes it even more hilarious and off-the-cuff:

Phainon and Mydei aren't well-acquainted in this scene.

Phainon literally walked up on a guy he barely knows and the first words that fell out of his mouth were "Dan Nicky your bobbies." "I would know that body anywhere."

Even Mydei was weirded out at first!

Like, Phainon has absolute foot-in-mouth syndrome around his new "friend." He spends the whole conversation narrating his own attempts to communicate ("Ah, I see I am unwanted. Instead of leaving, I shall try another tactic. Is it working yet?" and "Yes, yes, yes, it worked!") like this is a remotely normal thing to do around a person you're not even close with yet.

You can see his puppy tail wagging. He wants to be friends with Mydei so bad.

He is actively making up excuses to try to get Mydei to spend time with him here--first the comment about "Yay, you're here!" at the baths like he expects them to bathe together, then the whole "Why don't we go somewhere and have a long conversation about the insights we gained from rolling around in the dirt together?" to finally just flat out asking Mydei to train with him.

It's so charmingly earnest, straightforward, and even a bit awkward that I think this scene is really under-rated by the fans. It's not just another example of Phainon commenting on Mydei's muscles--it's a glimpse into what they were like before they were close and just how much Phainon wanted to connect to Mydei, how willing he was to explore to discover exactly what Mydei would be interested in so that he could seize that common ground between them.

Really a masterclass in showing us fans characterization right on the cusp of changing, and for showcasing both Phainon's charming audacity and Mydei's surprisingly-reserved-around-strangers behavior.

And, since we know the future that memory-Phainon-and-Mydei are headed toward... we also know it worked! Mydei is smiling by the end of the conversation! He and Phainon are going to become vitriolic best buds--er, rivals--and Phainon is going to get all the spars he wants.

Persistence pays off!

[mixingandmelting]

Winter Series Day 6: Teenage Crush

Summary: how he's in love with you featuring the original Robin trio

A/N: was i emotional when i wrote this? yes, no thanks to remembering jason was the sweetest and cheerful robin at the height of 4' 6" in-canon

Robin!Dick:

Daredevil, gremlin child, and the nightmare of all of Gotham’s villains was what Robin!Dick was known for. But at the end of the day, he’s just a boy that’s completely gone for you. He can’t and doesn’t let you catch a break as he constantly pokes you from starting the silliest arguments to putting on a show of his routines he used to do back in his family’s circus. Not once does he approach you like a normal person. One day he’d be creeping silently behind you, suddenly asking what you’re doing right into your ear while peering over your shoulder. The next, he would simply stand in front of you and wait for you to notice. He pouts when it seems like it’s taking you too long, though he does appreciate getting the time to engrave your form and the other expressions you make when he’s not annoying you. All of this, he does constantly, almost every other day in fact, because in his mind and heart, you are the best thing to ever enter and be in his life. It amplifies his haughtiness, silliness, goofiness, and sass as he does everything in hopes that he could strike a chance with you. So when he comes back from a long mission and you express any indiction of concern and how you missed him, his smile stretches from ear to ear, his heart fluttering from how you care for him. Of course he would probe to hear more, his desire of wanting to hear your thoughts on him but he still manages to stop himself from overdoing it. During the times when you pull an uno-reverse card on him unexpectedly, he gets extremely flustered and flushed from his “impress to woo the other person over” backfiring big time and instead, he’s falling for you all over again.

Robin!Jason:

Despite his height, he’s considered the cheerful and bright one as he steals the hearts of the Titans after a single mission, and makes Batman of all people laugh. Have you in the room and  he lights the whole place from how much he glows. Before heading to you, he sniffs his uniform to make sure it doesn’t smell like cigarettes. If it has the faintest scent of it, he goes back to the cave to change into a new one, doing so even more after learning how second-hand smoking can cause cancer. At some point he gets fed up with sniffing and changing so many times, he starts going through all the tricks to quit smoking even faster. Time to time, he brings something small, making excuses including the classic “saved an old lady crossing the road” on his way as a rose gets placed into your hands. He’s notably chattier and laughing more around you, enjoying whatever the two of you talk about even if it’s mundane and boring. He can’t help it when your passion, laughter, excitement, and smiles are infectious. His love for you is so pure that he’d be satisfied with simply being by your side, his one wish being that he can bring you as much happiness as you do for him. Time to time when you get a burger combo meal, seemingly to believe that’s his favorite based on the one time he mentioned about his memory with it whether it’s to welcome him back from a long while or randomly he gets fuzzy, warm, and the heart palpitations while he shares the meal with you. You make him feel that his life is complete, that he won the whole world which motivates him to become a better person, a “good guy” as they all say, so he can stay with you even if he ends up not being your end game.

Robin!Tim:

He’s known as the smart one as well as the one that sacrificed his chance of normal for the sake of saving Batman and currently, Gotham. You were never part of his plan as he already envisioned how his life as Batman's sidekick would look like but here he is, completely smitten for you as he figures out ahead how to approach you when he catches you hanging out. Image training, standing in front of the mirror and going through his lines and poses until Alfred caught him doing it once. Now he does it after locking his door, double, triple checking he was going to get his little gig right so he can look cool when he appears in front of you. Take the “yapper and listener” meme. That’s his relationship with you where he’s serenaded by your voice and won’t ever get sick of listening to it. If you were to express anything you need or want, he gets it and leaves it where he was standing or sitting with a small note attached. He’s also guilty of abusing his alternative identities and disguises so he could extend his time with you even outside of being Robin. Not that you would ever know as he has no intentions any time soon to out himself. There’s no other reason for him being this extra other than that you are the one that gives him the comfort and relief he needs. You are his solace that makes his self doubt disappear and everything he has done worth it. So when you do any skin ship including the scandalous hand holding, he’s equivalent to the red on his suit and mute from how conscious he gets from feeling you extremely close to him. Also gets him to forget to breathe but that’s not the issue here.

[starkwlkr]

I think Cillian and George look very similar in sunglasses, if you don't mind, could you write a story where Cillian's daughter and George are dating and the similarity is pointed out to them?

(I'm also interested in the reaction of a proud Irishman when he finds out his daughter is dating an Englishman.)

dad approved | george russell

anon, I see your vision

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liked by georgerussell63, tomhardy and 2,366,278 others

yourusername a wild britishman in 🇮🇪

tomhardy ❤️❤️ miss you

yourusername miss you more!!🫶🏼

georgerussell63 is that a picture of me or your father? these spot the difference games are getting harder every time

landonorris you have the whole room laughing

georgerussell63 who invited you?

landonorris christopher nolan

georgerussell63 funny, i just had tea with him 😉

landonorris liar

yourusername he is my godfather so obviously george had to meet him. sorry, lando!!! he says hi though <3

landonorris traitor

view all 67,388 comments

“you really love him, don’t you?” your father asks. while george had a chat with your godfather outside in the patio of cillian’s home, you were baking cookies. cillian had come in to check if you hadn’t burned anything.

“i do, he makes me the happiest.” you replied. “what do you think of him? apart from the resemblance that everyone seems to notice.” you laughed. you also showed him the tweet which also made him laugh. he didn’t want to admit it, but he did see the similarities as well.

“i think he’s great. he seems respectful and kind. he’s a keeper.”

it warmed your heart to hear your father say those words. you were worried he would end up hating george, but it was the complete opposite. everyone loved george and you were beyond happy.

[enhani-ki]

BMF part i - reader x ni-ki

warnings : smut, nsfw, dry humping, explicit languages, etc.

notes : inspired by sza's song. reader is downbad & desperate but that's the point. i had to break this down into two parts, the part two is more explicit version of this BMF. you can read it [here!]

you've been in love with ni-ki for a long time now, and recently, it finally felt like all your patience, all your hard work, was already starting to pay off.

he was actually acknowledging you, paying attention to you now.

because before, ni-ki would always reply late, always busy, barely sparing you more than a few words and there were so many times you almost gave up, so many moments where you thought,

"maybe i should just move on."

but you really, really like him.

even though you didn't really have the right to expect anything, you hoped and pretend he can still be your man no matter how many mixed signals he gave you, no matter how confusing or frustrating he was, you stuck around.

ni-ki, on the other hand, had just gotten used to you.

you're always praising him, you say you feel different when you're with him, you tell him anything.

always making him feel good about himself.

and whenever he feels lonely, it was actually nice to have someone checking in on him, asking how he was doing. and whenever he was bored? well, you were always down to accompany him anywhere, anytime.

you make him laugh. you're a little wild (which is an understatement btw) and always keeping things interesting.

so, without even realizing it, ni-ki had let you become a part of his routine.

y/n: i'm curious tho :(

ni-ki furrowed his brows, typing back.

riki-san: hm, about what? :)

y/n: how many kids do u want me to give you?

his mouth fell open. "what the-" he just stared at his screen for a moment, completely appalled. he was not one to share his texts, let alone let others peek into his phone, but this?

he just had to.

he turned his phone around to show your text with others in disbelief. "hyung, look at this," he scoffed.

heesung let out a low whistle while jungwon, on the other hand, immediately facepalmed. "oh my god…"

you sat there, waiting. kicking your legs in the air.

even if he was busy, even if he slept all day, you were always there, waiting for him to respond.

though, what ni-ki didn't know was that you actually wanted to blow up his phone just to ask what he was up to.

luckily, you didn't… whew.

you haven't seen ni-ki for so long, and when he finally came back, it felt like you were still missing him. every time he texted or replied, it was always after you had already fallen asleep. his schedule was a mess, and judging from the headaches he had been getting, it was starting to take a toll on him.

so when he asked if you wanted to spend some time at their dorm, of course, you agreed without hesitation.

the plan was just to play video games, maybe take a quick nap together, but the moment ni-ki laid down, his exhaustion won. he was knocked out almost instantly, breathing steadily and deeply as he curled up in bed.

your phone buzzed, a while later. then again. and again.

heeseung: yo, come out and eat with us?

sunghoon: why are you guys still in there?? we’re starving.

you glanced at ni-ki who's still lost in sleep, his expression seemed completely relaxed for the first time in weeks. you hesitated, but your stomach already made the decision for you.

y/n: yeah. i'm coming out, sorry.

the boys were already gathered when you stepped out. "he's still out cold?" jay asked, and you just nodded.

they all chuckled, and you let out a small laugh before eating dinner with them. their conversations were nonsense but somehow still entertaining, and even though you enjoyed yourself, you felt bad because ni-ki didn't get to eat with everyone.

and by the time he finally woke up, the dorm was already silent. it was near midnight, and everyone had already gone to bed. he stumbled out of his room, eyes barely open with his messy hair. his body moved on autopilot as he walked to the kitchen to reheat some leftovers.

he ate alone at the counter, scrolling through his phone in between bites, texting you, apologizing how he didn't get to take care of you.

he sighed, rubbing his face before clicking his phone off but just as he was about to head back to bed, he saw you sleeping in the couch.

you stayed.

he sat beside you, brushing a few strands of hair away before pulling a blanket over you.

he grabbed the remote, and switched on the tv, immediately lowering the volume.

the soft glow illuminated both your faces as he clicked on a baseball replay, slouching further into the cushions.

ni-ki's jaw tensed as he watched the game unfold. "oh, what the fuck?" he muttered under his breath when a player completely fumbled an easy play.

you moved slightly, shifting in your sleep.

he glanced at you, immediately biting back any of his further commentary but every now and then, he couldn't help it—sharp exhales, quiet cursing, groaning in frustration whenever something stupid happened.

you started waking up, not fully, but enough to recognize the occasional, "eh?" and "tsk, are you serious?" from beside you.

you never thought you'd be a little rude to him, but you had just woken up too, and your entire body ached from uncomfortably lying on the sofa. so with a frown, you mumbled, "is that live or a replay?" totally annoyed.

ni-ki stiffened, suddenly feeling bad for being so loud. "replay. why?" he answered, looking away from the screen.

"then watch it tomorrow…"

his grip on the remote tightened slightly. "i- i just have… 40 minutes left."

"you could watch it tomorrow though," you repeated.

he shook his head, his lips forming a small pout. "no way."

you, however, were also not having it. "riki…"

no response, he's barely even looked at you, leaning to the side to keep watching the game.

you tried to stand up but the second you moved, dizziness hit you. you vision went blank for a second, your body were still sore and stiff that before you knew it, you lost your balance.

you stumbled, ass landing right onto ni-ki's lap.

his hands instinctively shot out, gripping your waist to steady you.

and holy shit, you felt it.

you already knew it was big—you'd seen the print in his gray sweats plenty of times but now you were actually sitting on his lap, fuuuck, you could feel the size pressing up against you...

ni-ki was definitely packing.

he sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers twitching against your waist. "don't move."

you weren't moving. you couldn't, and you wouldn't, not when you could already feel inches of him beneath you. heavy and starting to throb against your ass.

then, as if you lost all your shame, you rolled your hips just slightly. making ni-ki hiss your name out, "y/n..."

your core clenched at the sound of his voice.

his hands flew to your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin as his head fell back against the couch.

a soft moan escaped your lips as you rocked your hips again, grinding against him, rubbing your ass against his clothed length.

"oh, that feels good, y/n..." he groaned. his voice deep and strained.

the way he said your name sent more heat straight between your legs.

you stood up just to sit in his lap but it's to grind while facing him this time. your clothed cunt was pressing right against his length. a sharp gasp left your mouth at the direct friction and fuck yes, it really feels so good.

ni-ki's dick grew harder and longer under your ass, his hands were gripping your waist to steady not only you, but also himself.

oh, and he bet you were already so wet down there too.

you stared into each other's eyes, chests were rising and falling, both just breathing together.

he was looking up at you, then he gently grabbed the back of your head and crashed his lips onto yours to kiss you sloppily.

your first kiss with him.

messy, heated... he's pushing his tongue into your mouth desperately.

you whimpered, grinding harder against his cock, rolling your hips like your life depended on it.

ni-ki groaned into your mouth, his looking up at you, watching the faces you make while riding him on top. his hands were squeezing on your tits, then trailed down to grip your ass, pushing your body more down onto him.

your pleasure was building fast, burning hot in the pit of your stomach all because the friction was perfect—the fabric of your thin shorts rubbing against your soaked panties, his thick length pressing right into your clit, right where you needed it.

your movements turned frantic, your head was swinging in all direction while chasing your high that is already within reach. "oh, shit- ah-"

click. the light's turned on

"fuck-" you panicked, shoving him away, and he pushed you back.

you quickly hid. ni-ki sat up straight, grabbing a pillow and shoving it into his lap, covering the very obvious problem straining against his sweats.

both of you sat there, frozen.

"what are you two doing?" sunoo asked, standing there, still groggy, his lips forming a small pout. "i swear i heard..."

ni-ki rolled his eyes, cutting him off. "you're weird for even thinking about it, hyung…" he said, trying to gaslight his sunoo hyung.

sunoo squinted at him suspiciously.

"yeah, yeah, that's crazy…"

but shit- you can't stop cumming right under that blanket.

sunoo crossed his arms. "i'll tell the others tomorrow. you're so dead, y/n. especially you, ni-ki." he threatened and walked away, leaving the two of you even more frozen in place.

you sighed, cupping your blushing face and without another word, you got up and made your way to the kitchen, needing a drink of water... and probably a moment to process what just happened.

you can't blame sunoo, because even yourself, you can't believe you just did something like that either.

you can't believe you dry humped ni-ki, using him like that just so you can cum.

the realization was awful, heat started rushing to your cheeks even more as you gripped the glass in your hands.

it's too embarrassing to even think about going back. what would you even say to him? how would you face him?

but then a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind. ni-ki's warm lips pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"hentai."

you squeezed your eyes shut in pure embarrassment. "i'm so sorry…"

but it's okay, ni-ki always knew just how down bad you are for him.

you decided to go home after. ni-ki sat on the couch again after, running a hand through his hair, feeling his body still burning from everything that just happened.

he glanced down at his lap, his cock is still a bit hard but it was also painful because you already left, leaving him with the first worst case of blue balls in his life.

his mind flashed back to the way you were riding him... wishing you can come back and take responsibility for this.

everyone gathered in the living room the next morning, forming a very obvious intervention circle with ni-ki. he sat in the middle, arms crossed, his legs were spread out, looking all nonchalant.

sunoo had already spilled everything, being the absolute snitch. now ni-ki was being forced to sit through the most painful conversation of his life.

"ni-ki, as the youngest, you need to be responsible..."

"we know you have needs, but please be discreet..."

he sighed, nodding along, pretending to listen but their words were just coming in one ear and going straight out the other.

he wasn't trying to be disrespectful, but did they really think he wanted to be here, listening to a sex talk from his own members?

"and always remember, protection is key..."

"you don't wanna end up on some news-"

ni-ki nearly choked. "hyung, what?!"

jake shrugged. "there's also those shows where young couples get unexpected babies..."

jay nodded, completely serious.

sunghoon sighed dramatically. "imagine the headlines, man-"

jay smacked sunghoon on the arm, stopping him from making the talk serious. "bro-"

he doesn't wanna hear it, he loves them but hell no... they don't know any better? so as soon as he escaped to his room, he grabbed his phone to text you.

riki-san: they already talked to me :)

you stared at the message. a smiley face? okay… so it must've gone well. it's probably not that serious, right?

y/n: great…

riki-san: just great?

you groaned, scratching your head in stress and embarassment. "what does he want me to say?!"

then another message popped up before you could even think of a reply:

riki-san: can i come over to get the record?

more notes : back from the dead.

check : part two of BMF ; マスターリストm.list

taglist: @dolliewon @ziiao @17ericas

[girlgenius1111]

might just love you 'til the end

post... that match. a bit of angst, mostly fluff. alexia is not pleased after her performance against chelsea. you aren't quite sure what she needs from you. you decide to give her space, but that isn't really what she needs. alexia tells you... eventually.

-------

It was a long day, a tiring and difficult match, and Alexia probably would have resorted to one of her coping mechanisms, if she hadn’t missed that last shot on goal. It seemed to take something out of her, and even from your place sitting on the bench, you could see how angry she was acting. Underneath that, though, you could tell that she was really just disappointed in herself. 

Watching her blink back tears as she made her way around the pitch was almost too much for you. You wanted nothing more than to grab her hand, pull her into the tunnel, and hug her until she wasn’t sad anymore. You knew better than to try to comfort her now, though. Alexia hated nothing more than seeming weak, especially in front of the team. Anything she needed or wanted from you would have to wait until you both got home. And even then, you weren’t sure what to expect. Sometimes she’d just shut down after a bad game, go to sleep, and wake up with a new passion the next morning. Sometimes she’d shut down, but her fury at herself would linger for days. Very rarely did she talk about it. Only when she really reached her breaking point, which was admittedly a lot harder to reach than other people’s were, would she let you make her feel better.  

It wasn’t necessarily a healthy array of options that she normally went with, but you couldn’t argue that it didn’t work. It worked for Alexia, and that was what was important. Even if giving her space until she asked for something else hurt, you knew it was what she needed. 

She acted pretty much how you expected her to as you both made your way into the locker room and headed for the showers. The blonde gave you nothing more than a high five and a weak smile, before she launched herself into her post match routine. You did the same, icing various parts of your body that hurt after a rather physical game. You kept your eyes on your girlfriend, though, watching the hollow way she brushed through her hair and the mechanical way she laced up her shoes. You were done before her, sitting in your locker looking at your phone, trying to figure out how bad the social media situation was going to be for her, when her white nikes appeared in front of you. You looked up at her with a smile, though it fell slightly when you took in the completely emotionless look on her face. She’d shut down, then, like you’d expected her to. You knew it was coming, but it didn’t make it easier that she wouldn’t let you help.

“¿Lista?” She asked roughly, not meeting your eyes. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” You replied, getting to your feet, grabbing your bag, and giving Mapi a reassuring look from where she sat waiting for Ingrid to be ready to go. You knew your girlfriend’s best friend worried about her, and that she had tried to talk to her after the match, but it hadn’t really gone anywhere. You were surprised when, as soon as you were out of the locker room and had walked a ways down the hall, Alexia dropped her bag to the ground and pulled you into a tight hug. 

You returned the hug, sighing into her shoulder, feeling her bury her face in your slightly damp hair. The hug was for you, you could tell. To make you feel better, even when Alexia wouldn’t allow you to do anything to make her feel better. She held herself a bit tensely, and when she pulled away, her eyes searched yours, her worry clear on her face. 

“Te amo,” she whispered, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “I am proud of you, always.” 

“I love you, Ale,” you replied, a thousand more words on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to tell her you were proud of her, too, that it wasn’t her fault, that she didn’t need to deal with today all by herself, but you knew she wouldn’t accept it right now. Instead, you grabbed her hand in yours and squeezed tightly. 

The captain kept her hand in yours as you both walked to her car, and though you expected her to pull away from the contact, you were glad that she was letting herself have something to make herself feel better. The car ride home was silent, and you predicted the rest of the night to be the same.

------

You knew to let Alexia deal with it how she dealt with it, but you did put your foot down on a couple things. When she headed right for the couch, going to put the match replay on the TV and take notes, you shook your head, taking the remote out of her hand. 

“Not tonight. It won’t make you feel better.” 

“I have to watch,” she argued, but you cut her off. 

“You can watch tomorrow. Tonight we are going to watch a movie, order dinner, and go to bed early.” 

“Amor,” Alexia sighed, her brow furrowed, no doubt thinking about how she could convince you to let her do this. 

You switched tactics, knowing there was one sure way to get your girlfriend to agree with you. “Please? For me? I don’t want to watch that again right now.” 

The blonde softened, nodding her head at you. Satisfied, you flopped down on the couch next to her, grabbing her arm and draping it over your shoulder. 

Alexia smiled despite herself, leaving a soft kiss on the top of your head. She was still practically silent as you picked out a movie, but she pulled you close to her, slipping her hand up the front of your shirt and  running her thumb back and forth across your skin. 

Even if she was only letting this happen because she thought she was comforting you, it was still better than nothing. Better than the rare occasions that she’d sleep on the couch, almost as a punishment for herself when she didn’t perform the way she thought she should’ve. The blonde had gotten better since getting together with you, mostly because you pointed out the inconsistencies in how she treated you after a rough game, and how she treated herself. Some rough days sent her spiraling back to her bad habits, though, and you were glad you could pull her away from those, at least for today.

-------

“Cariño,” Alexia whispered, jostling you slightly. “Let’s go to bed, vale?” 

“Hmm?” You mumbled, barely opening your eyes. “‘M not asleep.” 

“Oh, sure. You are just watching the movie with your eyes closed?” 

“Sí,” you sighed, turning against her slightly until your head was laid on her chest. It vibrated under you as she laughed, and the sound woke you a bit more, glad to hear something even remotely joyful come out of your girlfriend’s mouth. 

“Venga, amor, it is time for bed.” She insisted, gently sitting up and easing you into an upright position. You pouted at her, wishing the smile on her face would reach her eyes. When it didn’t, you rose from the couch, grabbing Alexia’s hand, and pulling her towards the bedroom. 

You both made quick work of your nighttime routines, and you were glad to slide into the bed, undeniably exhausted from the physically and emotionally draining day. Alexia slipped in next to you, though she didn’t really get comfortable; she remained halfway sat up, staring at the ceiling above her. You tucked yourself into her side, burrowing under the covers until you were surrounded by soft fabric and Alexia’s sweatshirt. She seemed wide awake, and you laced your fingers with her, rubbing your thumb comfortingly along the back. 

“Sleep, baby. You need rest. Everything will feel better in the morning.” Alexia nodded mechanically, giving you a half smile that you didn’t buy for a second, before her eyes fluttered shut. “I love you. You’re my favorite person.” You whispered. 

She opened her eyes again at your words, softening slightly. She turned on her side and pulled you into her chest, wrapping you up tightly in her arms. “Te amo, mi niña, eres perfecta.” She whispered. 

-------

You fell asleep easily. Alexia, evidently, had not. You realized this when you rolled over in the middle of the night, seeking out your girlfriend to curl up against, and only felt cold sheets next to you. 

It woke you up, and you opened your eyes, in your sleepy haze worried Alexia had gotten sick or something. You looked around the room, and towards the bathroom, but no lights were on. You sat up in the bed, forcing yourself to wake up more. Once you had thought about it for a minute, you had a sneaking suspicion about where your girlfriend had disappeared to in the middle of the night. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, checking Alexia’s location, and sure enough, her little profile picture was at a park a few blocks away. It had a football pitch, and Alexia sometimes slipped away there when she wanted to clear her head, but not deal with seeing people she knew at the Barça training ground. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, even though you had half a mind to call Ale’s mom and get Eli to deal with her, knowing she could scold her daughter much more effectively than you could. It was the middle of the night, though, and you knew that Alexia may need a softer approach. You weren’t really sure what headspace she’d be in when you found her, and it was at this thought that you began to move faster, pulling on joggers and a shirt, and rushing down the stairs. You could visualize what she’d be doing, taking shot after shot on goal, but you couldn’t figure out how she’d be acting. Upset, or sad, or angry, or still completely blank. You grabbed your car keys, not really wanting to waste a second longer than possible by walking to where Alexia was, although it wasn’t far. 

It only took a few minutes to arrive, and you pulled into the parking lot with your attention completely fixed on the figure across the park, running down the pitch with a ball at her feet. As you got closer, you took in how exhausted Alexia looked, as if she’d been at this for hours.

“Ale?” You called, finally arriving at the pitch and trying to get your girlfriend’s attention from the sidelines. She didn’t look over at you, too caught up in her own thoughts, trying to angle her shot in just right. 

You moved closer, and finally she saw you, just out of the corner of her eye. She stopped what she was doing, turning to face you. “Amor?” She questioned. “What are you doing here?” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her question. “Really? You’re asking me what I’m doing here?” Your girlfriend had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “It’s the middle of the night, Alexia. What are you doing?”

“I could not fall asleep.” Alexia told you, walking over to you, her ball abandoned behind her. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You asked, brushing a few pieces of flyaway hair off her forehead. She melted into your touch, her body slouching down towards you, giving you even more of an idea of how exhausted she was. 

“I wanted you to rest.” She said quietly, and it was a perfectly believable explanation, but for some reason you had a feeling that there was more to it than that. You fixed her with a look, raising one eyebrow. The blonde sighed again, grabbing your hand in hers. “Can we go home?” 

“Only if you promise to talk to me when we get there. Otherwise I’ll make you stand in goal while I shoot.” You teased, happy to see a small smile on your girlfriend’s completely drained face. 

“Promise.” She said, giving your hand a squeeze as you both began to walk towards the park exit. 

-------

You sent Alexia to shower upon arriving home, sitting on the couch until she was done, absolutely sure that if you got back in bed, you’d instantly fall back asleep. Alexia very timidly walked out of the bathroom 20 minutes later, all bundled up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants even though it was rather warm out. 

Alexia looked weirdly nervous as she sat down next to you, her eyes everywhere but on yours. She reached for your hand very hesitantly, relaxing slightly when you intertwined your fingers with hers easily. 

“What’s wrong, Ale?” You asked. 

“I am sorry about today. Really sorry, amor.” 

You opened your mouth, prepared to tell her that you forgave her for sneaking away in the middle of the night instead of waking you up, but you stopped when you looked at her closer, and found tears in her eyes. Something about the way she’d phrased it, too, that she was sorry about ‘today,’ didn’t sit right with you. 

“What are you sorry about?” You asked, frowning when Alexia chewed on her lower lip instead of answering. 

“I disappointed you today.” She said finally. 

“Alexia,” you rushed to contradict her, but she cut you off. 

“No, I know I did. I am sorry, I will do better, mi amor, I promise.” 

“Love, you did not disappoint me.” You insisted, cradling your girlfriend’s cheek and wiping away a stray tear. She shrugged, like she didn’t believe you. “You could never disappoint me, Alexia, especially not by missing a shot. Why do you think that?” 

Her eyes flicked up to yours, finding only sincerity there, as she took a deep breath, and spoke. “I told you I was proud of you.” Alexia mumbled, her cheeks flushing. “You did not say it back. And you normally give me a hug after matches in the locker room, but you did not, not until I hugged you.” 

You were sure you felt your heart crack in two. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” You said, reaching to pull her into a hug. She shrugged out of your grasp, though, and you were furious with yourself in that moment. 

“You do not need to be sorry, I understand.” She said, albeit rather miserably, looking so angry and upset with herself, when she really should have been directing that at you. 

“No, Alexia, look at me.” You insisted, gently tilting her head to look at you. She was barely holding back tears, her lip wavering sadly. “Oh, my love. I didn’t say it back because I didn’t think you’d want to hear it. You never listen after rough games, I was trying to let you have your feelings for the night, and then try to make you feel better tomorrow. I didn’t think you’d want comfort, Alexia, not today. I am so proud of you, Alexia. Every day, I am proud of you, especially today. You did everything you could do, I know that. It just wasn’t our day. Estoy tan orgullosa de ti.” You emphasized. 

Alexia nodded slowly, but you could tell she didn’t fully believe you. 

“Would you ever be disappointed with me for missing a shot?” You asked, slightly amused when the blonde whipped her head up to look at you, a frown set on her features. 

“No. Never.” Alexia said quickly, appalled at even the idea.

You smiled at her sadly. “Can you not imagine that I feel the same way about you, Ale? That I love you just as much as you love me? 

Your girlfriend swallowed roughly, reaching to pull you into her lap, and into a hug. You let her manhandle you the way she wanted, wrapping your arms around her and kissing the side of her head repeatedly once she grabbed on to you. 

“It is hard to believe sometimes. It is… too good to be true. That you love me like I love you. I do not always feel like I deserve it. Especially when I am grumpy all day after we lose, and I sneak out of our bed, and make you come find me in the middle of the night.” Alexia said, her voice dripping with insecurity. 

You pulled back just slightly, pressing your forehead to Alexia’s, threading your fingers through her hair. “You always deserve it. Always, Alexia. And I would get out of bed in the middle of the night to come find you every day if you needed me too. I’d get on a plane in the middle of the night and fly halfway across the world to find you, if that’s what you needed.” You whispered, leaning forward to press your lips to Alexia’s. 

She kissed you back, hard, trying to tell you how much everything you’d said meant to her. 

“I’d rather not, but I’d do it.” You mumbled against her mouth, feeling her smile against your own lips. 

“Okay.” She said finally, and it was clear to you that she believed you a bit more now, and that she’d believe you even more tomorrow. “I will keep my fleeing of the country to a minimum.” 

You laughed. “Good. Because I want to go to bed.” 

Alexia nodded enthusiastically, rising up off the couch with you held securely in her arms. “Me too.” 

She carried you towards the bedroom, already physically more relaxed than she’d been all day. 

“If you set an alarm for the morning, I will make you sleep at the park tomorrow night.” You told her, letting out a rather undignified squeak when she gently threw you down on the bed. 

She smiled at you mischievously, her bad day completely forgotten. How could she think about her performance when you were so perfect, and so pretty, and she was so tired.

“No alarm.” She promised, turning her light off and collapsing onto the bed next to you. It had been a mistake, not waking you up before. Because when you pulled her into you and began to scratch lightly at her back, she went completely limp, and she knew you were all she needed to fall asleep. Alexia didn’t need to practice her shots until her legs were numb. She just needed to lay her head on your chest and hear your heartbeat in her ear, and she’d remember that everything would be okay. 

------

hope you enjoyed :)

[idrkwhatthisisimsorry]

Gold Rush

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve and reader are just two idiots in love who doesn't think the other one likes them back

Warnings: fluff, idiots in love, slight angst, slight reader insecurity

Word Count: 3,406

A/N: okay so i haven’t written in a REALLY long time, but i’ve been on a steve kick lately and just wanted to write something so 😍

You were tired of it. So sick and tired of it. You’ve been alive for over two full decades and you still have never managed to have a boyfriend. Not that you were particularly desperate for one, but when everyone around you managed to have been in a relationship at one point in their life, it made you feel a little left out. It’s gotten to the point where everyone just kind of assumes you aren’t interested in a relationship, which isn’t true. You’re just bad at finding one. You’ve had small one-night things, but it seems like every time you get close to a man beyond a hook-up, you somehow manage to make the conversation utterly and completely platonic to the point where you’re just always the best friend. And this is where Steve Rogers comes in. 

You’ve known Steve for about 3 years, ever since you joined the team. Steve, to say the least, is a pretty intimidating guy when you first meet him. He’s super tall and sweet and cute, all the things you would want in a guy. But because he’s so perfect, approaching him seemed way too scary. For the first couple months of knowing him, the two of you would only exchange simple pleasantries as you crossed paths. A nod of the head, a wave, or a quick “hi” was all you were able to get out. But you wanted more than that. 

Eventually one day, you got the courage to say something to him. 

You were sitting in the kitchen, reading a book and sipping your coffee when Steve walked in. It looked like he had just gotten out of the gym, he was wearing some athletic shorts and a Dodgers tee that was entirely too small on him, but it gave you something to talk about. 

“Dodgers fan?” You asked him, hoping it would start some kind of conversation. He turned around, looking almost shocked that you said something to him that wasn’t just hi. He chuckled a bit before saying, “Yes, ma’am. I do miss them being in the city, but you’ll never catch me trading them in for the Yankees.”. He smiled at you, obviously expecting a response. You panicked. You hadn’t thought this far. He was supposed to ask you a question or something. In your idiotic panic, all you could manage to get out of your mouth was, “I’ve honestly never watched a single baseball game in my life.” Which was true, but why did you have to say that now? But apparently Steve wasn’t as offended by this as you thought he would be, and he tipped his head back and just laughed. Steve Rogers was laughing at you. With you? You had no clue. You just dropped your head into your palms, expecting him to walk out at your comment. “No offense, doll, but you don’t exactly strike me as the baseball fan type, so I’m not entirely shocked.” He said, just smiling at you. You were absolutely not going to open your mouth again, because obviously it wasn’t attached to your brain and you didn’t want to look even more idiotic in front of  literal Captain America. It got to the point where both of you were just kind of staring at each other in silence before Steve finally broke the tension. “So… reading is more of your style, then?” He said, gesturing to the book you had sitting in front of you. “Uh, yeah, pretty much. It’s like all I do in my free time.” You said, with a slight smile on your face. “I love reading, too. Kind of hard to adapt from books from 70 years ago to the books now, but I’d say it’s definitely one of my favorite pastimes. What are you reading?” You were kind of holding a conversation with Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers. Your kind of crush. You don’t know if you can even call it a crush when the longest conversation you’d even had with him was currently happening, and so far was only about 5 sentences long, but it was happening. “Oh, um, it’s called Daisy Jones and the Six. I've actually read it a few times already, but it’s my favorite so I felt like reading it again.” You said as you smiled up at him sheepishly. “Oh, I’ve actually heard of that one. Good enough for multiple re-reads, huh?” “Oh, one-hundred percent. It takes place in the seventies. Such a shame you missed out on that decade, it would’ve been interesting to see you in bell bottoms.” And there it was again, that laugh. He tipped his head back once again and just laughed. “Is that a good laugh or an ‘oh my god this girl needs to shut up laugh’” Steve stopped laughing, and looked at you confused. “No, of course not. You’re funny.” A confused smile spread across his face. “Sorry, it’s just kind of weird figuring everybody out here and making friends. You’re all way too cool for me, I feel like I’m trying to fit in with the popular kids.” You gave a shy laugh, and he returned it and then crossed the kitchen in front of you. “Well you’ve got one here. Being a tiny kid in Brooklyn, I get how weird it is to go from being on the outside, to being right here on the inside. Wanna make a deal?” He said, holding out his hand. You looked down at his outstretched hand, and then looked back up at him before asking, “What kind of deal?” He just smiled before saying, “A friendship deal. Whenever you need someone to talk to or to hang out with, or just someone to read in the same room with, you’ve got me.” You smiled even brighter and took his hand and shook it. “Done. And this deal includes you not judging my weak handshake.” He just threw his head back again and laughed. And that’s when you fell in love with Steve Rogers. 

Being in love with Steve Rogers was a problem. Being in love with Steve Rogers for three years and only being a best friend was an even bigger problem. Steve was the perfect guy, which was the issue because everyone else had the same sentiments, but you were too scared of rejection to do anything about it. You knew everybody wanted him, but last year was when it really hit you. 

As you finished getting ready, you picked up your tote bag, ready to go to your favorite bookstore. You thought it might be fun for Steve to come with, but as you headed for your door to go ask him, there was a knock. You opened your door to see Steve standing outside of it. “Hey Steve, what’s up?” You asked him, a smile on your face. “I was just coming to see if you wanted to do something?” He said, looking down at your outfit, seeing you were already dressed to go. “But if you already have plans, that’s totally fine.” He said with a small smile on his face. “No, I was actually just about to come ask you if you wanted to go to the bookstore with me?” You gave him a small smile back, and raised your eyebrows in question. A big smile spread across his face as he nodded and gestured his arm in front of you, suggesting for you to lead the way. You smiled up at him and stepped past him through the door. 

Walking with Steve was always nice because it meant you had something to do while you talked. You and Steve had grown pretty close since your conversation you had in the kitchen a couple years ago, but you still got nervous and fidgety sometimes when you were around him because, well, you were still in love with him. So walking and talking was just easier than sitting around and talking. “So why do you need more books?”He said as the two of you walked down the sidewalk. “I always need more books, you know this, Steve.” He gave a small chuckle and turned to look at you, stopping on the sidewalk. He didn’t say anything, and just looked at you. You gave him a look, confused why he was putting your walk on a halt. You raised your eyebrows and asked him, “What?”, laughing a little bit. “You’re just so b-” Before Steve could finish his sentence he was interrupted. 

One of the most beautiful girls you had ever seen just so happened to walk up to Steve, not even glancing in your direction. She was tall, blonde, beautiful, and more confident than you could ever think to be. Before you even had time to react to her, she was beaming up at Steve and talking to him. “Hi, sorry, I know this is kind of weird, but I just saw you from across the street, and wanted to come introduce myself. I’m Jen.” She said, batting her eyes up at him. “Oh, um, hi, I’m Steve, this is y/n.” He introduced the two of you, and smiled over at you as he said your name. Usually you loved when he said your name. The way his deep voice came out as he said ‘y/n’ always gave you butterflies in your stomach, but hearing him say your name because he was introducing you to a beautiful girl, who was so clearly interested in him, just made you feel like the gum on the bottom of your shoe. When Steve introduced you, you put on a fake smile that wasn’t even seen by her, as she clearly didn’t care about your presence, and kept her gaze focused on Steve. “Well, if you’re free sometime, call me.”She put on a sweet smile and grabbed his hand to put a small slip of paper, most likely with her number on it, in his hand. Before he could even respond, she turned away, but not before throwing a wink over her shoulder at him. And that’s when you realized if Steve Rogers could have girls like her, why would he want you?

“Nat. I need you to set me up on a date or something. I need serious romantic help, I’m tired of it.” After battling with your feelings for Steve, you figured it was finally time to move on. You and Steve were as close as you could possibly be at this point, and you hadn’t made any progress past friendship, and it was breaking your heart. You kept holding out hope, but if Captain America wasn’t going to make a move on you, it was never going to happen, and he just clearly wasn’t interested. You couldn’t keep pining over a man who didn’t want you. You were tired of setting unrealistic expectations for yourself, and decided to finally take Nat up on her offer of setting you up with someone. 

“Finally! I’ve been trying to set you up for years, what finally cracked you?” She said excitedly. Nat had been trying to set you up pretty much since the day you stepped into the tower. Once you and Steve started becoming friends, he helped you get more acquainted with everyone else on the team, and Natasha was one of the first. Which was another reason you fell in love with him. He cared so much about your wellbeing, and he wanted to make sure you felt comfortable and welcome where you lived, and you would be forever grateful for that. But that’s what friends do, and in your lovestruck haze, you decided to see it as him caring about you the same way you cared about him. 

“Nothing in particular, I think I just need a change, I guess.” You said, trying your best to give her a genuine smile. She just beamed back at you, “Well, I’m super happy you’re finally giving in. I will find the perfect guy for you, I promise.” She said, hopping off the stool she was sitting on and walked away with her eyes glued to her phone, typing away. 

–

Later that night you were sitting on the couch reading, while Steve sat on the other side of the couch with you. You heard him close his book and sit it down on the table beside him. You looked up from your book to him as he opened his mouth to say something. “Hey, uh, what are you doing tomorrow night?” He asked you, a shy smile on his face. Most of your plans consisted of spending time with Steve, and as you were about to tell him that, Natasha bounded into the room.

“I can tell you exactly what she’s doing tomorrow night.” Nat said, with a mischievous smile on her face. You had a feeling you knew exactly what she was going to say, and even though you asked her to set you up on a date, the last thing you wanted to happen was for her to tell you about a date she set you up on in front of Steve. “She’s going on a date. With Jack from the 7th floor. He’s so cute, y/n, you’ll love him. He loves books, and you guys have the same taste in music, I can’t wait.” She said, almost giggly. “You can’t wait for my date?” You said, laughing at her last statement. “Well, I’ve been trying to set you up for years, god forbid I get excited you finally said yes.” She said, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re going on a date?” You looked at Steve as he asked the question and gave him a nervous smile. “Um, yeah, I am. I finally took Nat up on her offer.” You said, throwing in a small laugh, trying to dissolve the awkwardness. “Thanks, Nat, I appreciate it,” You smiled up at her as you said it, and started to stand, “I think I’m going to head to bed now, though. Goodnight, you guys.” You smiled as you walked away, not able to stand being in the same room as you and Steve both found out you had a date for tomorrow. 

–

You couldn’t sleep. Of course you couldn’t sleep. All you could think about was Steve and what he might be thinking about your date. Did he care? Was he jealous? Was he just happy his best friend was finally going on a date? You didn’t want to be thinking about Steve, you wanted to be thinking about your date. Something you should be super excited for, but all you could think about was a certain captain. 

In the middle of another battle with your blankets while tossing and turning, you heard a soft knock on your door. You’d been in bed for hours trying to sleep, so you thought you just imagined it, but you heard the same soft knock again. Curious who could possibly be knocking on your door this late, you finally got up to answer your door. You opened the door to see a very distressed looking Steve in your doorway. “Hey, what’s up?” You asked, concerned. “Can I come in?” You nodded, and opened the door wider for him to come in, and closed it behind him. “Is everything okay? I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He didn’t respond and just started pacing back and forth in front of you. “Steve?” Hearing his name made Steve stop his pacing, and turn to look at you. “Why are you letting Nat set you up on a blind date?” He asked, with an almost frantic tone to his voice. “What? Do you have an issue with blind dates or something?” You were insanely confused. Steve was the kind of person who was always happy for you no matter what, so him practically barging into your room to ask you why you were going on a date was really out of character for him. 

“No, of course I don’t have a problem with blind dates. I have a problem with you going on a date. Y/n, I-” He cut himself off, looking down at the ground. You had no clue what to say, so you just stared at him, hoping he would finish his sentence. He looked back up from the ground, meeting your eyes. He walked towards you and didn’t stop until he was only a few inches away from you. “I can’t let you go on that date without telling you how I feel first.” As the words left his mouth, your eyebrows raised farther up your forehead than you thought possible. “W-what? What do you mean?” You asked, starting to think you were going crazy. This was starting to sound an awful lot like a confession, but Steve didn’t feel that way about you. There was no way. He saw you as his best friend, and that was it. He dropped his head down to his chest again, running his fingers through his hair as he let out a sigh. He slowly lifted his eyes again to meet yours. “Steve-” you began, but he cut you off. “I’m in love with you.” He said, sounding out of breath. Your eyes flew open. If you weren’t able to sleep before, you didn’t think you would ever be able to go to sleep. You couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t actually happening was it? There was no way Steve Rogers, Captain America, just told you that he was in love with you. It just wasn’t possible. You had to be dreaming, maybe you really did manage to fall asleep after all. If this was a dream, this was just cruel. “Y/n. Say something, please. If you don’t feel the same way, I understand, and we can pretend like this never happened. But I need you to say something. Please.” You stared at him for a second, almost paralyzed. “I- really?” was all you could manage to get out. It felt like the first time the two of you ever talked again. You were that same girl you were three years ago when you were stumbling over your words, trying to find the right thing to say to him. 

“I’ve been in love with you from the second you walked in the tower. Of course I’m in love with you, y/n, how could I not be? I’ve fallen in love with every single part of you. Your laugh and how you make me laugh. I love how sometimes you almost seem embarrassed when you laugh, like you think you shouldn’t be laughing. I love when you smile at me, and I love when you say my name. I love seeing you fight and how powerful your mind is. I love your obsession with books and your need to buy ten more every time you finish one. I love that I’m the person you come to when you need to talk, or rant, or cry. I love being that person for you like you are for me. You’re so amazing, it almost hurts me, because I know that there is someone better out there for you. Hell, it’s probably that guy that Nat is setting you up with. But I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I let you go on that date without telling you how I feel. So yes, y/n, I really do love you.” Halfway into Steve’s talking tears began to form in your eyes. Not only did the man you’ve been in love with for years tell you he felt the same, but he did even more than that. He told you everything you’ve been longing to hear for years, and then some. 

“Oh, Steve.” You said, with a shaky voice. And for the first time, you made a move. Steve put his heart out on the line for you, and all you wanted to do was kiss him, so you did. You closed the distance between the two of you and put both of your hands on either side of his face, and crashed your lips to his. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back. 

You broke the kiss, pressing your forehead to his, and sighed. “I love you more than anything, Steve.” You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips. This time, it was Steve who initiated the kiss.

[fruithoughts]

‎‎‎ㅤㅤHow to catch a hufflepuff?

‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤjeonghan x fem!reader  

01.ㅤۗㅤ𝙼ember .  ⎯⎯⎯  jeonghan.

02.ㅤۗㅤ𝙲𝚆 .  ⎯⎯⎯ one sided beef, he tries to a dick but he's too in love lol what a loser, MANY PET NAMES(pretty girl, doll, puppy...), reader is a muggle, smut at very end, smut with plot, rough sex.

September, 1 

— Are you still not over yourself? — A new year at Hogwarts begins, and just like that, Yoon Jeonghan it’s back to his favorite hobby of tormenting his favorite girl.

— Hogwarts should get over itself! It’s insane that we still have to write with quills — the Hufflepuff answers, obviously frustrated and with a good reason to be so, it’s 2024 and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry it’s still stuck on writing with quills? In individual papers? This fact alone it’s crazier than most spells they’ve ever teached.

— You say it as if the muggle option is much better — he lies straight through his teeth, knowing damn well that pens are, with no doubt, much easier to use than quills. Jeonghan is Jeonghan, don’t take him too seriously or you might actually punch him in the face. Much like he expected, his false observation is pointed out by the girl sitting right alongside him in this train stall almost immediately after it leaves his mouth, the Slytherin has always had too much fun bothering the school’s sweetest girl who just so happened to be cursed with world’s biggest puppy eyes.

It wasn’t friendly like this back then, though. No, not even close.

These two despised each other with a burning passion, well, Jeonghan did; for the far majority of this nemesis thing, the hate was very much one-sided. Coming from an insanely racist family definitely rubbed off on him and when his academic life expectations were ruined by the fact that the entire school seemed completely in love and constantly in awe of that stupid muggle girl, he decided right there to make her life a living hell. 

Which he succeeded in doing, kind of. Her life was surely miserable when around him but she didn’t seem to care about their relationship as soon as she was with her friends, housemates, just anyone at all, Jeonghan felt invisible at times, and it infuriated him to no end. Last year was the worst era for sure. The bitterness had been going on for so long, they were both exhausted and having to work together on an astronomy assignment was the last straw, so out of nothing but pure rage; they settled on an alliance for long enough to finish that thing. But it didn’t end there, of course it didn’t, they continued talking even after the assignment, they weren't friends then, absolutely not, but they started interacting like normal students for once, asking for notes, doing small talk every little in a while.

Their push and pull habits never truly died, but it wasn’t out of hate now, they were clearly having fun with this whole enemies till death tell us apart game. So much fun in fact, Jeonghan spent his entire break missing their banter like he was going crazy. It didn’t even cross his mind that he would think about that girl after the year ended, but oh, boy, did he do it.

 Maybe that was the reason they were going together in the same train stall for the first time in all of these years they’ve known each other, maybe Jeonghan lied and his friend’s stall isn’t full like he said it was, maybe he just missed his shiny eyed sweet girl, maybe.

September, 12 

— Do you have any interests other than being the center of attention? — she asks, it’s a fair question. The walk in between classes always brings out the worst out of everyone, huh? — I like pissing you off sometimes — Jeonghan answered.

Watching that cute little face transform into an annoyed and tired one never fails to make the Slytherin feel a rush of pride, he just adores it, he just adores her — Can you answer seriously at least once? Instead of being a lil bitch? Perhaps? It’s that too difficult for you? — she said imitating the tone he usually used to brother her, school’s sweetest girl being a bully, who would’ve thought. 

— Woah, woah, woah, I've been nothing but condescending and mean to you and this is how you treat me? — Jeonghan grabs his chest dramatically, his expression telling any bypassers that this man has never, in his entire life , felt as offended as he’s feeling right now — Come on now, puppy, it’s this a way you should treat a dear friend?

There it is, the classic Jeonghan urge to frustrate his pretty girl for no reason at all.

— Keep talking and I'll poison your food — the Slytherin chuckled at the threat — You wouldn’t be able to even if you tried, you’re not allowed in herbology class without the presence of a teacher — he pointed out without missing a beat — How do you still remember that? — she asks incredulously. I was made for you, of course I remember, the bastard thought to himself.

Like always, Jeonghan regretted coming to class the very second the professor opened his mouth, choosing to busy himself with going through his girl’s notes instead. They were mostly doodles or borderline intelligible for him, her handwriting was neat but her logic? Questionable, to say the least. But he loved reading whatever she wrote anyways, getting a little too happy whenever he found anything evolving his name or a silly doodle of his face. Once every twenty or so minutes he’d get distracted by her side profile instead, this was the only class where they sat together, so he shamelessly stared at her every time. For just a second, she looked back and smiled, as warm as the sun. He felt strange, he felt like a child again, liking her felt rather lovely, but did she like him too? 

October, 18 

It’s a tradition at this point, students of all houses gathering together in secret to play quidditch in their pajamas every friday night. Organization is barely existent, rules? Optional. This whole thing is a mess, it really is one of the worlds most confusing mysteries on how the teachers haven't found out about this yet(They have, but they pretend they haven’t because it’s the only time all students get fairly along with each other)

Mingyu begging Seungkwan to be the judge just off the chance that possibly, on a day where Kwan felt extremely nice, he could cut him some slack(it has never happened). Watching them from a far was arguably nicer, Jeonghan thought; sitting isolated from all of the other students with his trusty Hufflepuff by his side, both sat there in comfortable silence, this one was new for them.

— What bad music have you been listening to these days, ugly thing? — he inquires, as nice and cordial as always — Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy? — she answered staring daggers into his face, oh, if only Yoon Jeonghan was as unbothered and cool as he pretends to be, maybe then he could stop the way his heart pathetically races at the sound of her voice. 

— I always wanna know what’s going on up that little head, it’s usually just air, but sometimes we get lucky, don’t we? — the Hufflepuff rolls her eyes at his statement while the asshole who said it only grins — I could put on some songs I've been listening to, if your highness so desires — she suggests, and Jeonghan isn’t one to say no to his pretty thing. 

It started off with a soft guitar melody, much like most of the songs she listened to.

Depollute me, pretty baby

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream

The girl always had a type for softer sounding things, for gentle things, it made  Jeonghan feel unsure of himself at times. How could the sweetest girl in the school like the company of such a bitter guy?

Oh, dilute me, gentle angel

Water down what I call being grateful

Was it normal? Was this how things should be? What even were they at this point? Acquaintances? Partners in crime? Friends? 

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to take me home

The school year had barely started and Jeonghan could swear he was balding from stress since week 2, why is he acting like this? Why is he sitting far from his friends and housemates just to spend “alone time” with the girl he swore he hated less than a year ago?

It was simple, it was sweetness

It was good to know

There were many things in this world that the Slytherin would never agree to admit. He refused to believe in just how fast his mind changed from last year. Everything happened too fast and I couldn’t see it coming, that’s why I didn’t stop it; is what the man in question kept telling himself, clearly because is the truth and nothing but the truth, clearly NOT because he could never bring himself to terms with the fact that he has always looked at the “stupid muggle girl” in the very same way he’s looking right now.

You look perfect, you look different

I don't wonder about your indifference

— Spending time with you is giving me brain damage — he speaks up, for no reason other than to listen to the sound of her laughter, which works — Don’t blame me for your psychosis — the hufflepuff answers while giggling.

If I said you could never touch me

You'd come over and say I looked lovely

She yawned and stretched her arms out, arching her back, as graceful as a swan. It’s that feeling again.

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to make me cry

He lies down on the concrete, both hands behind his head.

It was simple, you are sweetness

Let's just sit a while

She lies with him.

Depollute me, gentle angel

And I'll feel the sickness less and less

The night was beautiful, birds flying through the dark sky, he could hear his friends playing quidditch in the distance, his pretty little thing resting her head on his shoulder as they lay on the cold floor and watch the stars. It felt gentle, it felt nice, it felt perfect. He knows they won’t talk about this tomorrow.

Come and kiss me, pretty baby

Like we'll never have sex

Friends shouldn’t make each other feel like this.

October, 29

— I’m just saying, it’s a Sunday evening — Jeonghan felt like getting to the point of his argument after rambling for about 20 minutes on end — And? — she inquired, eyes still on her book, which made the Slytherin close his own, he hasn’t read a single word ever since he opened his mouth, just using his habit of reading as another cheap excuse to spend the night in the library with his lovely friend — We could do something else, you know… — he suggested, knowing damn well this isn’t going anywhere, his girl did not play about her poetry books. 

— Like what? — she engaged, also aware of the fact this is a one way street — Literally anything else, maybe have dinner somewhere — he slouched against the hardwood chair — Dinner? The thing that killed Jesus? — her answer received nothing but a very judgmental look from a very judgmental Jeonghan who didn’t stay quiet about his discontent for long, like always — You’re such a disaster — he says averting his gaze to anywhere else so she couldn’t clock the painfully obvious heart eyes he was giving her.

— Why do you spend so much time here anyways? — after about 32 seconds of nice and peaceful silence, he asked again — Reading is fun, even if it’s reading about being a loser — the Hufflepuff responded already setting the terrain herself so Jeonghan couldn’t have the pleasure of calling her out on only reading melancholic books.

— We could never live together — the Slytherin states as if it isn’t the only future he could fathom to imagine — What if our books got mixed in the bookshelf? I might have a heart attack. Imagine receiving visits and have them wrongfully assume that I read poetry? I would rather die — anybody from a mile away can tell this man has thought about this very scenario way too much for his own good — And yet you’re the perfect amount of dramatic and pretentious to be a poet yourself — every once in a while he would notice that she talked like a book, he hated it, it was better when she talked like an chronically online alien who’s only life mission is to make sure he has at least one bad day a week.

Jeonghan, ever the most mature student of Hogwarts, sticked his tongue out in his friend’s direction, which was answered with the exact same action back at him — What are you even reading, ugly? 

— The world’s wife, by Carol Ann Duffy — at the end of that day, after his pretty girl had already left to her dorm, for the first time in history; Yoon Jeonghan rented a book from the library.

November, 1

Looking at her made him feel all sorts of things, even from across the room. From an overwhelming sense of warmth just by watching his little flower engage in silly conversations with her friends after she’s done writing down notes to erratic heartbeats and goosebumps when she catches him staring and tilts her head, looking at him just like a confused puppy while mouthing “why are you staring?”. She made him feel all sorts of feelings he wishes he didn’t fall victim to, all sorts of fantasies he wished he didn’t understand, but Jeonghan was no saint, especially when it came to his little angel. 

There were only two things in his mind today, which was an improvement in comparison to yesterday when there was only one, i’ll let you guess what it was, but right now there were two; 1. The argument with Josh, and 2. Her.

Jeonghan isn’t one to hold grudges against those he loves the most, as a trickster himself; he isn’t used to taking things personally, but Joshua… Joshua had gone too far. Just when the Slytherin was ready to finally pour his heart out to somebody who he deeply trusted and loved and open up about his feelings, he was met with the most terrible response! It just wouldn’t leave his head…

— She’s perfect for me, everything about her is perfect, I think about her all of the time and it’s messing me up — Jeonghan pathetically went on and on for what could’ve been anywhere from 30 min to 2 hours, poor boy was just so confused about the simplest of feelings — And the obvious conclusion to take away from this situation is…? — his Gryffindor friend tried helping — She’s ruining my life — and it didn’t work — You’re in love, you stupid idiot — so Josh decided to be a little more direct. He was right, like always, but that didn’t stop Jeonghan from sulking the whole entire night. 

It was infuriating, what even happened to him? All it took was a pair of shining eyes and sweet smile and he’s completely done for? It’s not like the guy in question ever was the kind of student who engaged in class or was interested in anything the teachers had to say at all, but this is another level, it annoyed him to no end. That stupid girl just held his mind and all of his thoughts in her hands as if it was nothing, that stupid girl with her stupid unique personality and her stupid hauntinly beautiful face and her stupid cute outfits and the stupid boy who could not take her out of his stupid brain. 

He left a letter at her desk after class, she would only find it the next morning while he was two classes away from being interrogated about said letter. 

November, 15

Hogsmeade was full to the brim, but somehow, this moment felt very intimate. 

Maybe it was the alcohol in their systems, maybe it was the casual way they didn’t even consider sitting with their housemates before claiming the little table by the window just for themselves, maybe it was the way they were both sitting while leaning completely forward, chins resting on their arms, faces just a few inches away while yapping away the end of exams season, it felt childish, it felt nice, it felt sweet. 

— You don’t think I'm manly? — Jeonghan questioned as if this was about to become his villain origin story — You’re manly… Just in a peacock kinda of way — she answered giggling like there was no tomorrow, he loved everything going on here. Her flushed little face decorated with a big grin, her nose crunching up everytime she smiled, her voice slightly louder and whinier because of the alcohol, the slurred way her words came out sometimes, it was all perfect.

— Can I tell you something, puppy? — he whispers, knowing he isn’t anywhere near drunk enough to not remember this tomorrow, he doesn’t really care — There’s nothing in this place that I adore more than you.

He watched in awe as her eyes grew so much bigger, lips forming a little pout of shock, that specific cartoonish surprised look she always had when anything happens while she’sdrunk, looking both sides before leaning in and going “Really?” which is immediately followed by a little giggle.

In moments like this the Slytherin swears there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to have his girl all to himself, nobody else deserves this view. Isn’t all of this desire so ugly? Isn’t all this wanting so gross? Isn’t it all his? Just the thought of leaving Hogwarts and never seeing his pretty little thing again was enough to give him a full body shiver followed by an ever so present nauseous feeling.

 — If I have to remember you for longer than I've known you, I might lose my mind a little — Jeonghan mindlessly admitted, a sly smile slowly makes its way in his friend’s face — Don’t you think you already lost it? — she asks.

— Maybe a little.

December, 24

— Won’t your friends be worried? Do they know or did not even tell them? — Jeonghan questions while trying to look at everything everywhere all at once. It was his first time spending Christmas night in the muggle realm, he wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was — Why wouldn’t I tell them we’re going out? — the Hufflepuff answers his question with a question — As far as I remember they were very defensive about you becoming friends with big, bad Jeonghan, have they moved on from that? — his question only got him a smack on the arm.

— They haven’t cared about that for a while now, and you interrupted me! Again! — she stated before angrily letting go of his hand, which she had been holding so they wouldn’t go far from each other and get lost, yeah… that was definitely the only reason — My sincere apologies, your highness — not taking her attitude for granted, the Slytherin quickly holds her cold hand into his own much bigger one, it was ironic in a way, the Hufflepuff who’s body is always cold and the Slytherin who’s body is always warm — Now I don’t wanna talk anymore — apparently, she didn’t accept his apology, but didn’t let go of his hand either. 

Jeonghan wasn’t sure if it was his sick mind making him hear things, but he could swear that as time went on, the sweetest girl in Hogwarts had become more and more of a brat, just for him tho. Maybe he was a bad influence. 

— Go on, keep talking about the anime girl with the blue hair, I'm listening — did he understand most of what she was talking about? No. But she was happy to share her thoughts about Hatsune Miku’s new song, so really, who was he to say no? For all Jeonghan cares she could break his brain in two, it was only ever hers to mess with anyways.

Walking through the local christmas market was much more pleasant then the pureblood snob would ever imagine or admit, but she could tell that he was having a great time, and that was enough for both of them. Jeonghan has always had a terrible case of resting bitch face, so she really couldn't give less of her mind to anybody who stared at them weirdly, the Slytherin himself barely even noticed, too focused on this cozy new place.

They ate good food, took pictures with her digital camera, petted some strays here and there, it was a perfect evening. And just when they thought things couldn’t get any better…

— Come on, it’s not that deep — the bastard insisted while dragging his pretty thing along his arm to some bar’s doorstep, there was a mistletoe there — Is it not that deep or do you just want to kiss me? — the Hufflepuff teased, her flushed face betraying the casual tone she spoke in.

Finally at the bar, they stood there. Jeonghan, with that infuriating little grin in his stupidly beautiful face, looking down at his friend who had her arms crossed in front of her chest the second they arrived, looking back at him with the an annoyed expression and an angry little pout that forced him to resist, with all of his might, to the overwhelming urge to melt directly to the floor.

— That’s for me to know, — he said pulling his doll into his arms, a hand going up to her face to make sure no stubborn hairs got in the way of the moment — And for you to wonder.

Much to Jeonghan’s surprise, maybe he really wasn’t the manly one in this relationship after all. Because when the Hufflepuff straight up yanked him by the collar of his jacket to meet his lips, he could swear that he was made to be manhandled by a pretty girl. Ever the profissional, he relaxed into their kiss almost immediately, holding the back of her head firmly in his hands so he could take some control.

It was just as good as he imagined it would be, pillowy lips massaging his own, his puppy just so pliantly allowing his tongue to explore, it was sugar sweet and addicting. 

Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it was a blessing, the girl wasn’t exactly sure while she was getting dragged around for the entire two and a half they spent going around in the christmas market. The sly prick just couldn’t control himself, whenever he saw a mistletoe, it was time. Jeonghan was so obvious, he started actually tricking her into thinking he was just interested in places. He would look around, engage in conversation with the sellers, get some nice food then the second they were about to leave, he would just pull her towards a certain spot, his girl already giggling and whining about getting tricked again. These two lost count of how many mistletoes they used to their advantage in just some hours, but at last, it was time to go. 

Surprisingly, Jeonghan wasn’t really nervous about spending the night in his friend’s apartment, they have gotten extremely close after all. The thing bothering him was something else. 

He wore some white t-shirt and fluffy pajama pants she found somewhere in the depths of her closet, probably due to a friend forgetting them. She was wearing a leopard print shirt and some black fluffy shorts, he loved the way she dressed much more than he could handle, it was too cute for him to handle. Their pajamas were the comfiest things they’ve ever worn in each other’s presence, you can only be so casual in School.  

After whining about who got to choose what they watch before sleeping, they settled in any Netflix cliche christmas movie because of how often she made fun of the scripts in those movies, and she was right, they could’ve played a cliche movie bingo and checked all of the places before the movie hit the 40 minute mark. 

Of course the film in question was nothing more than some background sound to their yapping session, what else could it be? Their conversations just flowed so easily, each topic and scenario just slipping through their fingers, eventually they got to the best part, talking about the people they both hate. At first it was the usual; “How long do you think that friend group is going to last?” and “Do you think that couple is going to get back together?” then it eventually turned into; “Do you think your friend group will last a long time?” and “How long do you think it will take before we miss our professors?” and…

— What are you gonna do after Hogwarts? — the Hufflepuff asks innocently, causing a mental turmoil to burst in Jeonghan’s head. He snaps before even thinking, and it’s probably for the best.

— What are we gonna be after Hogwarts? — the air caught in her throat was almost visible, the way her breathing got heavy, the way her eyes seemed to wander even though she didn’t break eye contact, this was a difficult conversation to have. After this they’ll either come out of this apartment as partners or as strangers, it was a tough pill to swallow. 

— We don’t ever talk about it, we don’t ever dare bring it up but we both know what’s going on, don’t we? The year is ending, flower — he had that look in his eyes, that look he had at hogsmeade, she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it, but there it was again. Jeonghan had never looked so soft, in some oversized t-shirt and fluffy zebra print pajama pants she would never witness him wearing in any other situation, his hair as soft as ever, strands romantically sitting in front of his face as he reaches a hand to hold her cheek, the most gentle touch.

— I know we started this just messing around, we’ve been messing around since last year and it felt nice, it was fun, it was new and becoming closer was so rewarding that we just couldn’t stop it — he recalls the beginning of their alliance — But it’s not so light anymore, is it, dear? The tension became too much, I know you think about me too, I know you feel me it too — he spoke his heart out, voice as soft as the look in his eyes, all of the words that have been drowning him for the past few months were finally bubbling to the surface — I wanna stop it, we played around and it was fun but I need something solid now, I need to know where we go after this is over — he kept going, his eyebrows furrowing as his breathing got more erratic. 

— We don’t have all of the time in the world so I need you to be honest with me right now — Jeonghan leaned in, he could almost see all of her thoughts and emotions right on those shiny eyes he fell in love with all those years ago, in all of this time; his sweet girl had never changed, but unknowingly, she changed him. 

— Do you want me too? — the Slytherin asks.

A rushed “i need you too” was the last thing he could process before the Hufflepuff was yanking his face into a heated kiss, hugging his neck so she could sit on his lap, Jeonghan was in heaven. 

His pretty girl softly pulling his hair to make him gasp into her mouth, his hands trying to be everywhere before he settled on holding her hips to keep her from moving too much. His sweet girl was a little too desperate for his taste. Why were her panties completely soaked and sticking to her core when he finally dipped his hand into her shorts? Was she getting hot and bothered the entire night and just taking it instead of asking for his help? — Own, did I leave my baby waiting for too long? My poor lil thing… — the motherfucker spoke up as condescending as always, only causing her to whine as he teasingly cupped her warmth through the moist underwear — Don’t worry, puppy. You know I’ll make it up to you — and “make up” he did.

As soon as the bastard found her bedroom, it was game on. At this point they’re unsure of how much time have gone by, one arm holding her waist firmly in place on her plush bed while the other held one of her legs up so he could have more access to the little pussy he spent so long dreaming about, he needed to eat his girlfriend out properly, let her know he’s the one for her, that no one would do it better than him, even if his efforts make his jaw hurt like crazy the next morning.

Jeonghan was having the time of his life, hearing her soft voice turning into a higher pitch whenever she whined about him teasing for too long, that she was ready to take him. And of course, being as annoying as ever, he couldn’t let the humiliation be just that, no, he made her repeat it every time — What was that, doll? — he looks up as if her sweet moans interrupted his holy feast, his chin soaked with her juices, his lips glistening with her honey, this view could kill — I need you, Jeongie… — she finally had the strength to answer, making the devil grin. 

He had no intentions of stopping, no, he needed that little cunt on his face until he suffocated. The bastard kept going after the first, the second and for a miracle, the third orgasm was his last straw, and even though he could devour his stupid girl right there… — My pretty baby did so well for me, didn’t she? — he gave her a much deserved break before getting down to finish their business. 

It felt as though there was nothing else in the world, nothing other than them. Passionate slow kisses, arms cradling one another as their hands caressed each other’s bodies, this moment could last all of eternity and neither culprit would complain, not even once. Feeling his hard on pressing against her thighs was driving the Hufflepuff a little bit insane, tucking on his waistband made her mouth feel awfully empty.

The Slytherin didn’t even remember that being hard was so damn painful, a soft touch of her hands on his crotch was enough to make him hiss, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his lips together, the sight was pretty enough to make one cry, he’s was just such a beautiful boy, how could she not want to have him in her mouth? — Please, please, pleas-

— You don’t have to — he tried shushing her, not wanting his baby to do any work — Want to… Wanna make you feel good, Jeongie… — that whiny tone made his knees buckle quickly, mind racing far too fast for him to stop himself before just sitting back on his knees and letting his pretty girl have her way with him.

For someone who was in full control just fifteen minutes ago, Jeonghan surely sounded like a bitch in heat. Biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood but letting go before it happens so he can moan like a whore just before the pleasure becomes too much and causes him to throw his head back, looking at his girl was too much to ask from him, everything was too much. Looking just so pretty trying her hardest to fit his thick base into her mouth, not paying any mind to all of the gagging, working so hard to please her Hannie, he could bust just from this fact alone, the man was losing it. 

His appreciation for her hard work did not go unappreciated for long, not when he got his doll on all fours for him, shoulders pressing down on the mattress while he pounded that pussy into another dimension not even ten minutes after getting the head of his life. The squeaking of the bed, the sound of skin slapping, the begging for more whenever he grabbed her hair roughly and used it as a leash to pull her body into his, his chest pressing against her back while he praised his pretty thing for being “such a good puppy for him, taking all of his cum”, only for the moans to go louder when he slammed her face back into the bed, the soft squelchy sound coming from where their bodies kissed, the music in this room was Jeonghan’s favorite. 

These two were wild animals for a long time, their muscles would most definitely feel their efforts tomorrow, but right now, after having the best orgasms of their lives, the lovebirds were in absolute peace, staying in the bed for much longer than expected after sex; just holding each other, just loving each other. After a nice shower, a change of sheets and some instant ramen, tho? Ready to go to sleep, if anything; desperate to go to sleep. Jeonghan felt a slight shift on the bed alongside him, he could feel his preciosity leaving his grasp just before he succumbed to the tiredness of his bones, he reluctantly opened his eyes; she’s on her phone? 

— Did I fuck you so good that you’re writing poetry? — he asks, it’s a fair question — Shut up, Slytherin — the Hufflepuff answers just before hitting send message into her groupchat, telling her friends everything they could possibly need to know about the past two hours or so with just 11 words.

[occamstfs]

AL:IV Everycop

Streamers everywhere have a chance to try out Auto Larceny: IV before it drops. After being forced into playing as a police officer in game Ethan Davies finds himself fitting the shoes more by the second.

Back to a longer story here's my take on a Cop TF- Sorta sucked into a video game Ethan rapidly becomes an ephemeral everyman of a cop! MG, mental change, and corruption abound! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

Auto Larceny: IV was supposed to be the game of the year. It wasn’t Ethan Davies’ standard fare but the streamer simply couldn’t miss out on the revenue bubble that’s sure to occur when the game first drops. Honestly he wasn’t sure why he got an early access copy of the game but he’s so early in his career that any shortcut to get ahead had to be taken. Still, he’d need to familiarize himself with the game before going straight to streaming it, which is where things began to go off kilter.

The intro cinematic to the game was fairly rote, the franchise was so massive that even disinterested parties were aware of the tone and gameplay. Ruffians driving down the sidewalk being chased by helicopters, wide shots exploring some amalgam of every city in California, drag racing down every major thoroughfare, Ethan was well familiar with the action movie parody tone of the world despite having not picked up the remote to play any game in the franchise before now.

Expectecting to click through menus and make his character, Ethan is surprised to instead be greeted by roulette wheel and a message: ‘In this edition of AL player characters and story modes will be randomly assigned to keep the game fresh! After completing story mode feel free to start New Game+ where you can choose from any of the hundreds of hand-crafted player characters!’ Ethan grimaces, quite a lot to ask of the player to jump into a rpg with absolutely no choice as to who you’re playing. It really doesn’t seem on brand to take player agency totally out of the players hands and there are certainly a good number of roles that he personally would prefer not to play.

Still, contract signed, he does need to stream the game at some point. Tired of being waylaid from playing the game proper he quickly clicks through terms of service and gameplay warnings, accidentally mashing himself right into rolling the wheel of AL:IV characters. Druglords, regressive women, and larger than life drag racers rush past in a circle as the wheel begins to slow with an sonically unpleasant clicking sound. Almost stopping it slowly twirls past Mike Malone-Midtown Vigilante before it slowly rolls onto, Emile Brighton-Billionaire Playboy. He purses his lips thinking how both of these experiences sound pleasant enough before the wheel clicks forward one final time. Ethan immediately clicks his own tongue and complains, “Oh what the fuck. Literally who is this in the game for…” Ethan has been assigned the role of Peter Clarkson-Cop.

Before the game has a chance to explain who his character is Ethan decides in no uncertain terms that he’s not playing as a pig in AL:IV. This game is infamously about playing criminals and ruffians. Even ignoring his IRL issues with the police he wasn’t about to spend any amount of his life walking in their shitty shoes. He resets the system and waits for the game to power back on so he may take another spin of the wheel. They know their fanbase, there literally has to be a way to game the game to play as who you want. 

In the meantime Ethan browses his phone while the system begins starting up once more. Oddly enough he sees a few fellow streamers already tweeting about their time in the game which is more than a little surprising. Even more peculiar, a few of them seem to be putting on affectations to shill for the game? Even some of the straighter shooters are getting into characters Ethan couldn’t imagine them choosing to do. Seeing his friend and fellow streamer Chris Walters tweeting like a surfer bro Ethan scratches his chin wondering if he accidentally missed some bizarre lines in the contract he signed to do promo for the game.

No time to worry about that now though, as his game is finally spinning up once more. The AL:IV logo flashes red and blue as a siren blares and the intro begins once more. Only this time, the whole cinematic seems to have a decidedly more cop-forward tone. Opening in what is unmistakably a police cruiser there's a laptop jutting out from the dash with lines of text soaring past. The thick, suspiciously veiny arm of the driver clenches at a wheel as he chases a speedy scofflaw down the road before following the reckless driver onto the beach. He hears a deep raspy voice bark orders from a receiver on his belt which he quickly yanks to his mouth to shout his own mumbo-jumbo into.

Before the second frame hits Ethan is filled with a desire to shut the game down yet again. Unfortunately, before he can act on that instinct of self-preservation his attention is irrevocably drawn to the cinematic as if he’s possessed. Finding it more engaging than any piece of copaganda he’s seen before, Ethan is completely rapt as he sees the patrol car slide to a stop on the beach, somehow creating a steam trail against the sand. The camera twirls before zooming in onto a figure eating a donut sitting on the hood of his car. Ethan can’t quite make out any details of the man’s face, it’s ephemeral and yet every shifting angle and foggy detail is unmistakably masculine and powerful. He hears the officer’s voice shout Auto Larceny VI, Officer Peter Clarkson reporting for duty.

“Okay. Well I’m not playing this.” He says, shaking off his delirium as he wanders through menus and looks for the way to delete whatever paltry save date that has him pegged to play Officer Clarkson. He pauses for a second slightly shocked that he’d refer to the character by his title rather than take another jab at the pig, er, cop. He exhales from his nose and chides himself, joking about how taken his subconscious must be with the vaguely hot parody of a parody of a cop. Ethan then scoffs as he successfully navigates through the deliberately obfuscated settings to find the ‘Erase All Data’ button greyed out.

Growing rapidly irate at the game doing everything it can to put him in the leather shoes of a man he’d never deign to play as, Ethan dials the customer support number given to him by the developers in the hopes they’ll help him out. He taps his foot impatiently as he hears jarring ambient noise from the game, rather than kitschy hold music. Eventually as sirens blare he groans and accelerates his tapping, unaware that he has begun to sweat as the temperature begins to unnaturally rise in his room. The noise from his phone similarly  begins to increase, or at least it seems it does which only exacerbates the man’s nerves. Feeling his shirt begin to grow damp from sweat and stick to his back he discards it and begins whinily cursing to himself. 

“God why did I even agree to play this shit! I knew it was a bad idea.” Head in hands his glasses begin to steam as his body grows warmer with each passing second of irritation at the game and himself for agreeing to stream it. Before his sour mood could develop any further he flinches back like a loaded spring at the sound of a representative from the company. Shouting once more in shock as his body releases tension he was shocked to find himself carrying at such a low-stakes moment, “Fuck!”

There’s a moment of pause before the voice on the other end speaks up once more, her voice robotic and  uncaring, “Excuse me Sir, this is Kayleigh Moore with AL:IV did you need assistance with your copy of the game?” Ethan’s face tinges red with embarrassment, coupled with his already burning body his eyes almost water as he clears his throat to answer, “Uhm so sorry about that, Miss.” He tilts his head at reflexively calling her Miss, “I was wondering if there was a way to start over, I think my copy’s glitched out or something?” Kayleigh quickly responds, “Of course, for the record is this Pethan Clavies?” 

Ethan pulls the phone away from his ear, her calling him Pethan was unmistakable. Still it’s not like she’s going to pull his leg right? She’s on the clock, it must just be a genuine mistake, “So sorry Mi- Kayleigh, did you say Pethan?” emphasizing the out of place P. “That’s right sir.” Ethan rolls his eyes, obviously that’s not a name, let alone his name, he clears his throat again to hide his still present irritation, “No, my name is Pethan, Pethan Clavies.” Tonelessly she responds, “Right sir. That is what I said.” Pethan’s voice catches in his throat. That’s not. He’s not? God it’s so fucking hot in here.

Getting lost in his head for a few seconds Kayleigh, ever cordial and acting on information Pethan clearly doesn’t have, she gets back to work. “So sorry Mr. Clavies but unless you have a genuine problem with your game I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do. Enjoy your day officer.” Mr. Clavies. Officer. Pethan fights the urge to throw his phone against the wall before realizing how out of sorts he must be right now. I mean, he forgot his name Pethan after all. Even now thinking that to himself, his neck reflexively clenches and one of his eyes slams shut as a headache stings. 

Then it hits him. He’s burning up, drowning in sweat and has hair trigger rage. All signs suggest that he’s just come down with a fever. One he wanted to take out on that poor chick, er. God what’s up with him. Still, he sighs in relief at figuring it out, some tension leaves him though he is still racked with soreness. Stretching an arm he finds the pleasurable burn that usually follows workouts. Or that would follow his workouts, he’s not really one to workout. He thinks. Walking to go sleep off the fever he scratches at his chest and halts as he feels muscle at all where there should be none. Furrowing his brow he sprints to the restroom and clasps at his mouth when he sees his figure.

God he looks fucking hot. Something swimming through his mind knows this can’t be right, it must be the fever. But as he feels rows of sweaty abs under his fingers how could he dispute the evidence. Scratching at chest hair spreading towards his nipples and a treasure trail now inching well past his belly button he struggles to understand how his fever is also making him hairier. Nor too does he understand the dark green stains on his arms that seem like tattoos he’s never gotten. Mmm they must just be bruises he’s missed, convincing himself just enough as he flexes a new bicep at himself in the mirror and begins to chub up.

Somewhere in his fever-ridden head a streamer still kicks around and, unsure if he can trust his own eyes, he takes out his phone to snap a pic of his hard new body. He groans as he wonders who he should send it to. Stumbling to his bed his mind produces an answer, who else but his fellow streamer Chris Walters. He mumbles as his body temp continues to rise, “Chris’ll- huh?” Checking his contacts he struggles to find his friend. In fact a number of his online friend’s contacts seem to have changed, he shakes his head and his clumsy fingers accidentally click on the number for Chase Waves. Oh duh. He laughs at himself, embarrassed for having forgotten his friend’s name, before sending the shirtless selfie off and collapsing into his bed. Swiftly conking out in a pool of his own sweat and snoring as drool snakes out of his mouth onto a cheek that will be itchy by morning.

Indeed he woke up scratching a sweat and drool covered beard that he shouldn’t be able to grow in a million years. His hand briefly gets stuck in the thick new tangle on his face before he wrenches it out with a crunch. Before his eyes are open he stretches, moaning as his bones have put on years of aging and over a foot of height overnight. Consciousness slowly loading into his heavier new body he feels his meatier hands bump against the wall and his sock-torn feet hanging off the edge of the bed. “Bwugh, wuzzat!” He shouts alarmed at nothing as he sits up with a start in his bed, rubbing his thinned hairline and scratching at a treasure trail as thick as his pubes. 

Pethan stumbles to his feet, his head throbbing with a headache as he adjusts to his new height and struggles to ignore new instincts boring their way through his mind. His hand yearns to reach for something on his belt only for him to scoff at himself. He’s of course not wearing a belt, having only gone to sleep in his compression shorts. He ignores his bulging dick and heavy balls to instead check the phone sitting on his bedside table, barely remembering he texted Chase through the haze of his mind.

Checking again he smirks as he sees the picture of himself he sent, “Heh always a stud.” Pethan ignores that he apparently sent this message in a dating app rather than as a standard text. So too is he unable to realize the picture displays him a completely different man than when he went to bed, and even further away than what any image he should recognize as himself. Any conclusions on the matter that could be made however are shelved as he tears his eyes away from admiring himself to see Chase’s response, “Heyyy Brah~ Huhuh, u know what i think fckr!! ACAB LMAOOO good luck finding sum other sucker 2 fuck pig”

Indignation burns bright in Pethan’s chest as he grumbles at the message, anxiety at getting this message from his, uh his friend? He thought they were friends? Pethan furrows his brows and groans at the mismatch, his voice sinking lower as his eyes keep rereading the surfer’s dimwitted message. His hands clench and veins pulse larger as his arms threaten to grow even larger in his rage. Two diametric ideas vie for dominance in his mind, the former just falling short, an angry yet self-pitying ‘upstanding citizens can’t get any dick anymore!’ loses out to the realer concern burning through Pethan Clavies’ mind. One that he shouts at the top of his larger lungs, “I’m not a fucking cop!” Forcing his hands down to his side in a petulant manner he springs up yet another inch in height and is struck lightheaded from the vertigo.

Pointedly moving on from his being shot down by a degenerate he isn’t sure he could label a friend anymore, Pethan stumbles into his living room in search of something. What exactly? He isn’t quite sure. Digging through his mind what for only brings confusion to the forefront, just need a cup of joe and a donut, he shakes it off and grimaces. Need a protein shake before the gym. Need my uniform and my service pist-. Jaw cramping from how hard he’s clenching it to put down these thoughts the, perhaps still, streamer turns on a speaker to blare out the voices in his head as his deeper breaths begin to give way to hyperventilation. Pethan turns into his streamer room which unfortunately brings him no peace. 

His eyes glaze over as they alight on the game, AL:IV still playing. Somehow in the meantime it has abandoned the looping intro video and begun playing proper. The officer he was penned to play as idles in the lobby of the police station as Pethan unconsciously meanders towards the screen. He is less than aware of his movements as he goes to pick up the controller, his clumsier sausage fingers accidentally pause the game, bringing up the character’s stats menu. The first thing he reads is the character’s name: Officer Petan Clarison. His whole body twitches as he instinctively reads it and feels it overwrite his identity once more. That’s not what it said yesterday was it? Well of course it is, he typed in his own name didn’t he?

His head twitches to the side as a wave of old memories are now locked behind his new reality. Unaware of this Pethan endeavors to grasp something hard of his past self to hold onto. Unfortunately any attempt just releases a brief stabbing pain, almost to deliberately discourage Petan to dig deep enough to remember himself. Looking across his stats he finds himself quickly losing interest in the game despite his being unnaturally drawn to it. His eyes glaze over as he looks at his low intelligence, something inside him says he usually maxes that out. After a pause he questions that. When would he have ever even done that before? He’s not even that much of a gamer is he? His neck twitches again as if some neuron tries to fire but can no longer connect. 

He shrugs moving on to see low charisma as well. Petan grimaces before deciding who needs charisma when you have authority. Pride burns in him as he puffs up his chest. Were he wearing a shirt the noise of straining fabric would surely sound as burgeoning pecs begin to bulge. He doesn’t need to persuade or to sway, he simply needs to state. His words are. He is the Law. Or, god. No. He groans as he finds his ability to dispute the assertion increasingly tenuous, “I’m not a fucking pi- not a p- not an, urgh, police officer.” He clenches his jaw finding himself not even able to call himself a pig. Or no, cops at all pigs. Not himself. Cause he’s not, he’s not a cop.

Petan forces his attention back to the game with a good deal of effort as the loud sounds and bright lights begin to actively deter his interest. His investment absolutely does a 180 however when he sees his strength stat not maxed out. Seeing red and exhaling in indignation he looks down at his own body compared to the one slowly spinning on the screen and sneers. Why does he look like a shrimpy little punk. Ignoring the dozens of pounds of muscle he’s put on thus far, Petan quickly tosses the controller down, done with stupid games forever as he makes for the nearest gym.

Keys in a bowl on the counter shine and glisten, somehow asking to be picked up and he thinks about grabbing them before feeling existential fear at discovering what they might unlock. He convinces himself it’s better to get cardio in on the way anyway, god knows he’s not going to step foot on a treadmill. Sprinting out the door he sees a black and white Challenger and his cock pulses at the sight. Before any further thoughts, or other substances, can spill at seeing the vehicle. His vehicle? He grunts and tears his eyes away from the pristine cruiser and sprints away, clearly hard cock bouncing in his athletic shorts. Off to the races Petan purses his lips wondering if he knows where the nearest gym is actually?

Oh, well there’s the one at the station? Groaning to himself at  how quickly that idea sprung to his mind he picks up speed running towards a building with a massive veiny bicep hanging over the door. Hands adroitly cutting the air in front of him as if he were chasing a perp, ugh, running for fun, expertly. As one does. He forces his lips into a tight line as a mustache grows thicker out of his beard and tattoos stretch further across his large arms. He feels something shift in himself as he crosses the threshold into the gym. His beard thinning into stubble as his face shifts and hardens. More importantly his body begins to surge larger, straining his workout attire before he even touches a weight.

Petan stretches at the entrance, seemingly deliberately blocking the doorway as his body rapidly puts on weight simply from entering the gym. Once again immediately damp with sweat his chest packs on weight. Hitherto present but undefined mounds on his chest become two massive muscled pecs, apparently recently shaved. Scratching at his now stubbled face he wonders where his beard went, mumbling something to himself about regulation before he saunters into the gym. Taking wide steps as he adjusts his gait for the heavier package dangling loosely in his athletic shorts. 

He takes a deep sniff in the air which makes his cock even more noticeable as the musk of the gym brings him pleasure immeasurable. The massive man ambles around the place, hooking his thumbs into the elastic band of his shorts, sneering as he feels there should be something harder there, something leather keeping his pants tight above his admirable defined ass. Grumbling to himself as he meanders about the gym as if he owns the place, ogling at the other burly men working out. All of them seem vaguely familiar, and jarringly stereotypical. Burly men wearing oil stained wife beaters arguing at the free weights, playboys with platinum blonde hair pouring water over themselves on ellipticals, some greasy hackers in the corner seemingly out of place, though they’re decidedly more shredded than any man in the van should be.

Petan fights the urge to assert himself over these groups. His chest thrums as he forces his legs to still as there’s a desperate pull to go brawl with the rowdy men. To force the suave white collar criminals if they don’t fork over some cash to him. To just go shout at the mousy sure to be cybercriminals and hope they piss themselves. He sneers at the idea and is really only held back from doing any of them by the desire to do all of them. The rising lust for action, to dominate and enact his rotten will trips whatever sense of self, whatever shreds of Ethan remain and he shakes his head, eyes widening at how much he seems to be losing himself as he feels a weight growing in the pocket of his athletic shorts. 

His eyes then light on another perp, er, civilian. One he knows without a doubt. He sees Chase Waves and nods his head. Keys jingle in his pocket as he swiftly heads over to the man, something deep within him, growing deeper by the second, suggests that is a man he can trust. Seeing the hulking figure saunter over, chest forward, Chase rolls his eyes and puts up his guard. Head down and smile uneasy he speaks up before Petan can issue an order, “Heyy brah, er officer.” Flinching back as he feels treating the man before him with anything but respect would break bad quick.

Petan furrows his brow at this odd intro. Why is this man so on edge? His lips twitch as instinct swirl, he’s my friend, or was my friend, right? Why does he not trust me. Various muscles within the no-longer streamer twitch and grow as he begins to lose whatever ground remains. The surfer must have done something wrong. Petan’s body inches taller, wider, veins bulge down arms as they bulk. His chest presses against his workout shirt as it begins to darken. 

Sleeves quickly appear as the garment shifts black. He grunts as a collar presses out of the neckline before performatively clearing his throat and speaking up, his voice dry and perpetually on edge, “Why’re you so nervous son?” His hair straightens into station standard as he sneers down at the surfer who audibly gulps. He feels his shorts begin to hug his ass and crotch as the fabric grows rigid, thickening as they expand and lengthen down his defined calves.

Waves responds, “We’re just uh, surprised you’re here is all uhhh, sir? Usually your type keeps to the station unless there’s trouble.” Trouble. Petan’s jaw hardens and widens as he looks down at the man, his tennis shoes rapidly thickening into a dark shined leather as the heels raise him even higher over this obvious delinquent. He clears his throat as he feels the cotton sleeves of his workout shirt grow firm and hug his massive biceps. Flexing just to hear his arms strain the tight sleeves he hears fabric tear down the whole front of his shirt as his pecs burst it wide open. Just as soon as his now hairy chest is exposed, buttons pop into existence and struggle to close it back up, still hugging impossibly tight. Trouble. What is there in this gym other than trouble.

Still wordlessly staring he can’t help but feel delight at the discomfort he has evoked in the typically chill surfer bro. Living a life almost deliberately to avoid men like Petan and yet, face to face what can he do. His memory lights to this morning when this twerp DM’d him ACAB, is he just going to let the punk say that to him? Petan’s brow hardens as his shoulders hunch and his back widens. One hand clenched at his side ready to reach for something on his waist that’s not there, the other scratching at his stubbled, or no, bearded face?

Seeing sweat trail down the blonde’s tanned face as he almost shivers in fear of the cop backing him into a corner, some impossibly frail shred of conscience cries out and fills Clarison with disgust at his domineering actions. Fear in his own eyes Petan steps back which only sets Chase more on edge. The surfer bumps into some equipment as he backs away. Hands raised as he speaks up and eyes an escape route, “Ah sorry for the trouble officer! Hope you have a pleasant day!” He sprints off into the locker room and Petan turns to see the commotion he’s raised, every patron in the gym now turns to look at him scowling. His hands once more go to his waist only this time he finds the leather belt he has been so craving to wear.

Biting his lip as weight begins pulling the belt down at every angle he struggles between pleasure and fear as bulky black items begin to appear from nowhere on his belt. Each new yank on the belt fills him with contentment as he finally has the tools of his trade, pepper spray, his trusty taser, his receiver. He audibly moans as he feels the weight of his service pistol finally arrives on the scene. Anyone keeping even half an eye on the officer would see his cock throb through his uniform pants as he does so.

Standing in the gym moaning in delight and struggling not to fondle his crotch only draws more attention to the out of place cop. Men as large as himself begin to rise across the gym and eye the officer with suspicious and disdain. Knowing when it’s time to beat feet Petan makes a note to rub one out later, when he uh? Gets back to the station? Twitching larger as he lets that slide without dispute he shakes off his masturbatory plans and sets to the crowd. Petan shouts over the din of clanking weights with bluster and authority that shall never leave his tongue again, “Yew all can return to yer business. Keep it clean and we’ll have no trouble.” He makes a decidedly not commanding expression as he looks so uncomfortable at the volume and weight of his words. Despite this everyone seems to listen and obey, cock throbbing once more as he sprints out the door, new car keys already in hand.

He clicks the keys and his pristine patrol car sounds off, he hops in the Challenger the station yoinked from some drag racer and speeds off. There’s a badge hanging from the rearview, P. Clarkson. Peter without a thought or hesitation yanks it off and throws it on, comfort filling him as he feels he just found the final missing part of himself. Leather seat creaking under him as his huge form shifts larger yet again, clearly unhealthy veins bulge down his arms as he speeds down a thoroughfare, unconcerned with the other drivers as he goes to the only place he can think of. The only place that matters to him. The station.

His face shifts yet again as he enters a different part of the city, smiling as he nears what may as well be his home. It is his home. Tattoos shift in the same ephemerality that apparently encompasses the whole of his form. Some other scofflaw runs a red light and his hand flashes to press a button that activates his sirens. Shaking head to stay on target he instead uses the sirens to run the red light himself before simply keeping on his way to the station. Each inch closer he finds himself drifting permanently away from the streamer he once was. Good riddance he thinks, twerp probably pirated games anyway.

Theme music from AL:IV begins playing from his game stereo and he smacks it until it begins playing the theme of Officer Peter Clarkson, that of the police force as a whole. Shifting in his seat as his bulge hardens and fills his pants and his butt forces him to sit higher in the seat. Officer Clarkson swerves across lanes and finally pulls into the station, expertly drifting to a stop. His eyes take a few seconds to adjust as he hops out of his car, as if the world were loading in around him. He gets out to sit on the hood of his car and his form shifts again. Body mind and face becoming one of a million combinations that Peter Clarkson is to embody. In the game Officer Clarkson doesn’t quite matter. He’s a grunt. He’s a sheriff, he’s the chief. He is whatever the role the force needs to fill, and some unfortunate sod had to take that bullet.

Uniform shifting military green as his torso alone bloats heavier than the whole of Ethan Davies’ body once took up. He thoughtlessly shoves his pistol in his pants for easy access as he goes to sit on his hood and eat a donut as prophesied in the officer’s intro, rather, his introduction cinematic. He sits and waits as the cracks of who Officer Peter Clarkson is begin to fill just enough that he can indeed become anything demanded of him within the world of AL:IV. Oozing authority and dripping with unearned condescension his mind goes blank enough be anything from intro mission cannon fodder grunt to the stogy commander of the department as a whole.

Flashes of his programmed life, of his shifting lives, sear through him. Basic enough to fit any dreamed role as needed, thorough enough that anyone who cares enough to inspect the officer would find substance. Officer Peter Clarkson leans back on the hood of his car as he feels his potential, smirking and fondling his bulging package as the hood creaks underneath him. Bad cop, ‘good cop,’ new blood, hardened detective. Brawny, bulky, wiry, wounded. Officer Peter is a blank slate for the programers to work like putty. Each one of course having the chauvinism and fragile masculinity that they saw fit for the character to embody. 

Officer Clarkson feels in his the roles that he is perfect to fulfill. Overtly virile officers to spar with vigilantes and players who prefer to play as seedy criminals. Goody-two-shoes fresh faced straight shooters who step in to apprehend those the good guys wish to see behind bars. Perhaps preferably for the man he once was, the game was rated M for a reason after all and on the more erotic side of things Peter steps in to be the cop stripper that any male-interested players can see fit to ogle or play with to their heart’s content. Perfectly sculpted body speckled with as much or as little body hair as they so choose.

AL:IV is at the cutting edge, a truly living and breathing game. One that is made more perfect with each and every player. Thanks to fame seeking steamers like Ethan eager to immortalize themselves online, the developers have ensured that even the least compelling characters and storylines are teeming with personality. When time comes that the litany of waivers and contracts signed by any parties involved in the making of the game are up, any content creators ready to move on are absolutely free to return to the lives they lived before. Though who knows, at that time AL:V is sure to be right around the corner.

[audliminal]

It's just a game, right? Pt 2

Masterpost

"It's like. Crazy, y'know?" Bernard's voice echoes in Tim's ears as he fiddles with his mask. "Like, when they started posting, I was kinda meh about it? I mean the first few videos they posted were just like. Basic shitty, scrambled audio, and the first clues were just like, real simple. Basic word replacement stuff; mostly vigenères, right? But now it's- they're using everything! The current drop is. It's layers, man. And I think it's intentional."

"Isn't it supposed to be intentional? I thought that was like, the whole point of an ARG."

"No I mean, like yeah obviously the clues are intentional, but like. The way the difficulty curve is just increasing. When this started it was so easy, but I don't think it was because they like, didn't know what they were doing or anything. Which, cool yeah that makes sense, you want people to buy in before it gets super hard or whatever, but there are, like all these threads that never went anywhere. And everybody kind of wrote them off as red herrings because they didn't seem to fit into the narrative that we had so far, but I can't stop thinking about them, you know?"

"I mean, they could still be red herrings, couldn't they?"

"Well, technically, yeah, but like. Why? It's one thing to have a dead end that maybe calls back to a previous clue or, like, reaffirms some detail from before but having something completely unconnected seems like a weird choice. Especially when the creator keeps telling us to dig deeper."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Tim asks with a laugh.

"No that's the thing!" Bernard's voice goes intense, and Tim momentarily stops putting his mask back together. "Literally every fucking drop those exact words are hidden somewhere in the mess of encryptions, and as things get more complicated, it's showing up more not less. And that together with all the fucking loose details that don't seem to fit in anywhere? I'm literally on the verge of going back to the beginning of the whole thing and solving it from scratch, bc I think we're missing a lot." Tim kind of forgets, sometimes, how similar he and Bernard are, but the in his boyfriend's voice is one he's intimately familiar with. That combination of obsession and frustration - and obviously it's not really serious because like, it's an internet game, but it doesn't matter what the stakes are, being stuck on a puzzle fucking sucks, and he can't exactly patrol what with his broken ankle, so maybe a fun, no-stakes challenge would be good for him.

"We were planning on hanging out on Friday, so what if you walked me through it from the start, and maybe together we can come up with some answers?"

"Seriously? Dude that would be so awesome! I will teach you everything I know about code breaking!"

"I mean, I do know some things, you know. You think I didn't have a spy phase as a teenager?" Tim smiles at Bernard's responding laughter. It'll be nice, he thinks, to mess with a puzzle where nobody's life is at stake.

[starryhyuck]

coveting you. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: markhyuck x afab!reader

words: 4.9k+

summary: hotel room walls are thin, but mark guesses that you and donghyuck really don’t care.

genre: smut

warnings: voyeurism, sir kink, daddy kink, spanking, pussy slapping, degradation, breeding kink, public sex, fingering, cocky!hyuck, face slapping, squirting, choking

this fic is exclusive to both tiers on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

Mark swears on his life that he isn’t the one who started this. He didn’t necessarily stop it either, but that’s besides the point.

You don’t visit Donghyuck often due to your conflicting schedules, with his being way more hectic than yours. Every once in a while though, your boyfriend will profess that he misses you and desperately needs to see you. He’ll buy a plane ticket for you at the next concert date, not caring which country it’s in or if you’ve even requested time off from work.

Mark likes you. You’re not as rowdy as Donghyuck, possessing more of a level-headed mindset. You’re easy on the eyes too, but he’d never tell Donghyuck that in fear of his member teasing him relentlessly for having a crush on his girlfriend. You’ve spoken briefly to Mark in passing, complimenting his skills on stage or asking politely if he would like to join you and Donghyuck for dinner. Mark usually declines, not wanting to intrude on your personal time.

The first time Donghyuck flew you out and you slept over, Mark was placed in the hotel room on the complete opposite end of the floor. He didn’t hear anything regarding your antics until Renjun grumbled the next day about not getting any sleep because of the two lovebirds.

The time after that, Mark was two doors down from Donghyuck’s room but he swears he never heard a peep. Jungwoo was the one complaining the following morning, requesting for you to be mindful of other people’s bedtimes.

This time, however, Mark is situated directly next to your room. They’ve just wrapped up their latest concert and after a quick basketball game with Chenle, all Mark wants to do is curl up in bed and fall asleep.

You don’t exactly make that task very easy for him.

He’s tucked safely under the blankets when his ears catch your moan. At first, he’s not certain he heard you correctly. He shakes off the feeling before snuggling deeper into the duvet.

Then, Donghyuck’s unmistakable voice snarls, “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

A whimper vibrates through the flimsy wall. “Y-Yes. I promise, sir. I’ll be a good girl.”

Mark’s wide awake now. His eyes are as wide as saucers, in pure disbelief of what he’s currently hearing.

“I don’t think so,” Donghyuck chuckles. “You’ve been acting like such a brat tonight. If you’re such a good girl, why were you draped all over Mark earlier, hm? This sweet little pussy was dripping for him, I just know it.”

You had been asking Mark for guitar lessons during soundcheck, smiling shyly at him whenever you plucked at the wrong cord. He taught you patiently in between practicing dances, showing you the basics before offering to teach you in longer sessions. Whenever he glanced over at Donghyuck, your boyfriend didn’t seem to care about whatever occurred between you.

Evidently, Mark sees that this isn’t the case.

“No, sir,” you deny. “I was just asking him to teach me guitar, I swear!”

“I don’t think so, baby. I know what I saw. You were basically asking him to fuck you in private. What, you don’t want me to watch?”

A loud slap echoes throughout the room. Mark jumps at the sound and lifts the blanket to gaze down at his sweatpants, swallowing when he sees a noticeable bulge making an appearance. He shuts his eyes tightly, hoping sleep will somehow find him so he can forget this all happened in the morning.

“I do want you to watch, sir.”

“Yeah? You want me to watch Mark pound this tight pussy of yours? You want me to watch him fuck you until you’re crying? God, you’re pathetic.”

Another slap jolts through Mark’s chest. He shudders, resisting the urge to tug at his length while he imagines what Donghyuck could possibly be doing to you in the next room over. He pictures you bent over the edge of the mattress, ass shoved high in the air as Donghyuck’s hand collides with the skin roughly.

Fuck. Mark should really go to bed.

want to read the rest? access both tiers on my patreon here!

[igorluvr]

req for thanos x shy reader who wears glasses?

'SHRINKING VIOLET

PAIRING: choi su-bong (thanos) x reader

SYPNOSIS: you and thanos had been inseparable since middle school, watching eachother grow into adulthood. you'd been with eachother through good and bad, so what would happen if the both of you suddenly caught feeling for one another?

CONTENT: non-squid game au, childhood best friends awww, kinda corny, lots nn lots of fluff

AUTHORS NOTE: omg i loved writing this!! its super short bcs i wanted to hurry up nn publish your request but i hope u like ittt

[words: 717]

THE first day of school was always a nightmare, and being in a new city made it worse. You missed your old school, teachers, friends, and the comfort of familiar routines. Eighth grade was especially tough, as everyone else already had their friend groups established, causing you to feel like an outsider.

For the first few months, you floated around like a ghost, trying to avoid the rude kids. You went to a particularly large school, so your bus stop had at least 10-15 other people waiting there. Unfortunately, they were all the wrong types: smokers, gossipers, egotistical athletes—the worst of the worst. Already having a bad day, you decided to put in your headphones to tune them out.

Suddenly, someone slammed roughly into your back, sending you crashing face-first into the concrete. “Oh shit!” a voice shouted behind you.

Quickly, you gathered your belongings, but it was difficult. “Shit sorry, I tried to yell. Are these yours?” an older boy said, picking up a colorful skateboard. You noticed him presenting your glasses in his hand. With a small nod, you took them from him, but they were now crooked, making you groan.

“You okay? You went down pretty hard,” he asked, worry in his voice. “Mhm, sorry,” you replied quietly, not wanting to embarrass yourself any more.

His head tilted as he looked at you. “Aren’t you in my science class?” he questioned. You stared at him, confused. You weren't too good with remembering faces. “I’m Su-bong, Choi Su-bong. I sit next to the teacher?”

Now you remembered him—the boy who wouldn’t stop making pencil-beats on the desk during class, causing the teacher to move his seat up front by hers. He had a bright smile and a confident demeanor, one of the more outspoken kids. Embarrassed, you mumbled a quick 'sorry', wishing to disappear.

“Don’t be sorry! I recognized you. You’re the new kid, right?” he said with a chuckle, making you shrink further into your shell.

You expected him to laugh at your quietness, but instead, he leaned against the bus stop, looking genuinely interested. “Since you're new, let me be your first friend. I promise it'll be worth it,” he offered, a playful grin on his face.

Your first instinct was to walk away, to assume his friendliness was just an act or a joke. But he spoke with a sincerity that made you want to believe him. “Why do you want to be my friend?” you asked, hesitant and stuttering over your words.

“Because you seem cool,” he replied nonchalantly. “I hate seeing people alone at school, it makes me feel bad. C'mon, I can show you the best spots in the cafeteria, which teachers to watch out for. It'll be fun!”

Stuck between anxiety and hope, you struggled to find the right words. His enthusiasm chipped away at your walls, and the idea of friendship began to settle in your mind. “Okay,” you said shyly, feeling a mix of excitement and fear.

From that point on, you two were inseparable. From that first day you became friends all the way to graduation, you never left each other's side. You experienced everything together, helping him build his rap career as 'Thanos', going to your first party together, smoking together, even going to prom as each other's dates. It wasn't until your adult life that you started confusing your feelings for him.

Su-bong had always been good-looking; you couldn't deny that, but you never saw him like that. You loved him in a completely platonic way, or so you thought. It seemed as if your feelings for him had hit like a bus.

It was completely out of nowhere—a random Tuesday afternoon. The both of you were hanging out by an abandoned building, a place you visited regularly. Going to random places and smoking together had become a routine for both of you, but this time was different.

The way the golden light from the sunset hit his face just the right way, the deepness of his voice, the way your hands grazed slightly as you passed the blunt to each other—it did something to you. You couldn’t shake the feeling. It was like a revelation, constantly revealing desires and emotions you had long buried.

Of course, though, you’d never dare to bring it up. I mean, come on, all the years you’d been friends, what were the chances of you both randomly catching feelings at the same time? Every time he laughed or nudged you, it was a reminder of the line you couldn't cross. So, you kept your feelings hidden to protect your heart and cherished friendship.

After getting as high as the both of you could handle, you decided to go back home. As you got into the passenger seat of his car, the air was thick with unspoken words. The soft glow of the sky above illuminated his sharp features, and you studied every part as if he were on display at an art gallery. You could feel his boldness radiating, but he also sensed your shyness. As you fidgeted with your glasses, he smirked and broke the silence.

“Hey, you know,” he said, leaning back in his seat hazily, “those glasses of yours? They’re kinda cute.” There was a teasing tone in his voice that made your cheeks heat up and you looked away, trying to hide your smile.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, heart racing. Thanos chuckled softly, his mood shifting slightly as he took a deep breath. “Look, I gotta be real with you for a sec. I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately… and honestly, I’ve been feelin’ more than just friends. Like, a lot more.”

Your heart stopped. Could this be it? “What do you mean?” you asked, curiosity overpowering your surprise. Something changed in you for sure, but did he actually feel the same way?

“I mean c’mon, we hang out all the time, I just can’t ignore it anymore. I really care about you. You’re my best friend and all, but I want more than that.” Thanos admitted, a smirk creeping on his face. That smile truly sent your heart in a whirlwind.

A million thoughts raced through your mind. The air in the car felt condensed, and you found your voice trembling just a bit. “Y-you’re serious?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning in a little closer, his strong gaze locked on yours. “I’m serious. And I hope you feel the same.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “I do. I really do,” you said, in disbelief of this entire situation. Maybe it was the weed getting to your heads, but this moment felt truly euphoric.

Before you could say another word, Thanos leaned in closely, lips brushing softly against yours. The moment your lips connected, everything around you faded; nothing outside of that car existed anymore.

The feeling was electric, sending waves of warmth through your body. All other thoughts left your mind, and you felt dizzy with the feeling of his soft mouth moving against yours. You were overly aware of everything—the way your heart raced, how his hand felt on your cheek, and the happiness bubbling in your chest.

When he pulled away, both of you were breathless, smiling at each other with surprise. The doubt that you felt faded into the background, replaced with an undeniable joy. His eyes sparkled with the same wonder and mischief that had always drawn you to him. You both smiled, the tension evaporating as laughter bubbled up from within.

“Wow,” he said, still grinning. “That was… nice.” You giggled at his loss of words. You'd never seen Thanos so nervous. “Yeah, nice,” you echoed, heart still racing.

With a sparkle in his eye, he took your hand, intertwining your fingers. Slowly, he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently, and you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. The sweet gesture left you speechless, heart thumping wildly as you stared into his eyes.

“Now that feels nice, too,” he said softly, gaze locked on yours as he held your hand to his heart. “Guess that’s a proper confession, huh?”

You laughed, feeling light as air. “Definitely," you responded, voice slightly shaky due to the immense amount of happiness running through your veins.

The sweetness of the moment wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You felt shy and flustered, but also excited—excited for what was to come. His eyes held all the hope you could dream of, and in that moment, you knew you were ready for this new step with him. As you exchanged smiles, it hit you that this was just the start.

You couldn’t wait to see where this new chapter in your relationship would lead you both. Wherever it may be, you were ready to face it side by side, you two against the world. In that perfect instant of the moment, everything felt infinite.

And as the warmth of the moment surrounded you both, the sun lowered beyond the horizon, painting the sky with vibrant hues of orange and purple—a promising picture for your future. You both shared a knowing look, laughter lingering in the air as you realized that you were embarking on not just a journey of love, but an adventure of life that you were both willing to embrace with open arms.