#don't even get me started on the casting. oh my word

[defira85]

With the proviso that I have not finished the game and I in a really shitty mood about my Rook's body type breaking in the romance cut scene specifically, I have thoughts-

I saw a post that said that Veilguard is so fundamentally determined to say nothing that sometimes it comes out as incredibly offensive with just how aggressively noncommittal it is

and that's really it, isn't it

Shadow Dragon Rook got into trouble for saving slaves, and the Viper is a vigilante saving slaves, but we never SEE any slavery. We see poverty and abuse, but there's no talk about the rigid castes within Tevinter. Maybe the Venatori were drawn primarily from the lower classes of mages, those without family seats in the Magisterium, who were drawn to the promise that they could accumulate power instead of being trapped in a system that dooms them to failure and looks down its nose at them for being born not important enough

Tevinter's whole thing across the series has been slavery!!! And we get one or two codex entries about how Dorian gave such a nice speech about "slavery bad :c" and that's it

The Crows are so utterly toothless. Just an aggressively white-washed cool vigilante group, no hint of their child abuse or slavery practices, where's the acknowledgement that they make a lot of their money from slavery?

Lucanis' year in solitary confinement and torture is just window dressing. Again, haven't finished the game, but no examination of it at all 45 hours in. There's so much literature about what solitary confinement does to a person, how it's a form of torture, and just thinking about how much of Zevran's past abuses were woven into his characterisation so carefully... it's like chalk and cheese

Davrin once again filling the role of Bioware's obligatory "elf who hates being an elf and aggressively denies all elven heritage" companion

And like... every mini villain is just someone who was too ambitious and that made them eeeeevil. All the companions' rivals get dropped on Rook without any build-up, no casual conversations to say "oh I had this ex-friend/rival/foe who shaped me". Maybe I've been spoiled by Baldur's Gate 3 and how carefully all of the companions' abusers were woven into who they were as a character and how it shaped them and their story. Gortash didn't just come out of nowhere, Karlach was mentioning him in chapter 1! There were codex entries about him to be found weeks before you met him! But who the fuck is Johanna Hezenberouasertrousers or whatever the fuck her name is. She was ambitious, TOO ambitious, so she's evil and Emmrich's mirror. Cyrian joined the Forgotten Ones, and sure the Evanuris turned out to be super evil abusers that all the myths and religion was super wrong about but this is WORSE CYRIAN HOW COULD YOU

Don't get me started on whatever the fuck the game is trying to say about religion and about faith. Gods, it's so mid 2000s atheist edgelord memeing "unfortunately for you.... I have reason and logic on my side....... checkmate religion..." There's no nuance at all!!!!! Just "religion is a lie so faith dies now" no acknowledgement of faith as a cultural force!!! Of CULTURE being shaped by faith!!!! Okay I said don't get me started, I'll stop now

Whatever the fuck they're doing with the Qunari. They really just have gone back to their incredibly racist roots of "islamic borg" as David Gaider called it but they've made it even more offensive by making them all so... I don't know what word I'm looking for is, but it's about the sex appeal. How they've got their entire chiselled asses out. They look like they're trying to take part in Mister Bodybuilder Treviso, not a vaguely regimented army that was incredibly carefully structured up until about 5 minutes ago

This was more than what I intended to write lmfao. It's a fun game! I'm enjoying myself, as a fun action RPG. But after Baldur's Gate 3, it's just so utterly spineless. It has nothing to say. Evil people are evil, good people are good. It doesn't take a stand about anything. It is so determined not to be offensive to anyone at all that I find it gross

I'll finish it, and then I'll go back to BG3

[licorishh]

I'm two episodes into the new ATLA show and I literally love it oh my gosh skjdfhakdsf

I'm really not the biggest fan of season 1 of the original show so this is honestly a massive step up for me I'm incredibly impressed

M. Night Shyamalan better be taking some serious frickin notes here like this is how you adapt a show hooooly cow

Some slight spoilers in the tags beware sdfdsf (also since I'm only on episode three please don't spoil aahh-)

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[satangcrush]

pact marks

✦ CAST: solomon x reader ✦ SUMMARY: g!n reader, solomon teaches you that pact marks can be deactivated by will ✦ WC: 0.7k

[PART 1] | [PART 2] | [PART 3] | MASTERLIST

══════════════════

You blink, your head tilting to the right as you stare at the sorcerer with wide eyes, and your upper lip trembling. He matches your stare, as he dips his head to a calculated fifteen degrees to his left.

“What?” Amusement seeps into his voice, as he pursed his lip to stop it from curling into a grin.

“So you’re telling me… this entire time I could have been walking around without these?” You let out a huff, voice coloured in disbelief. “I was basically walking around like a flashing signboard…” You jab a finger at his chest heatedly, face scrunched up in displeasure.

You were in the RAD library studying with Solomon when you came across a book talking about how pact marks could be deactivated by will, you had then questioned him about the contents, thinking that it was inaccurate.

“Mm…I guess so.” You could practically hear him feigning nonchalance as his eyes quickly skimmed over you as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “Give me your hand.” 

You shook your head with a loud sigh before flinging your hand at the conniving sorcerer which he caught easily in his grasp. You find it concerning at times how carefree and happy-go-lucky he is but alas, if he has managed to survive this long with his attitude, he mustn’t be doing anything wrong.

The whisper of a spell caught your attention as you curiously peered at Solomon, watching as he lifted your hand to his mouth to press an open-mouthed kiss to each of your fingers. A puff of smoke materialised in front of your face and you could feel a breeze of cold air brush past your cheeks. Suddenly, you could see the tell-tale markings of your pact mark on your finger, gradually disappearing as if it were a puddle of water evaporating under a hot summer day.

“Oh my-” You met his questioning gaze before clearing your throat, “Days.” He let out a chuckle, lifting his free hand to give you a light pat on the shoulder. You stared pointedly at your wrist still very much grasped in his but he just blinked and shrugged at you. 

You bite back another sigh. Seriously, you feel like you have aged decades with the amount of sighing you have done around him lately. You opened your mouth to ask, but the words got jumbled in the back of your throat as he squeezed your hands. You decided to ask another question instead, “How long does this spell last?” 

“This is just a temporary spell to cover up any type of markings. For pact marks, you don’t require magic to cover it up. You just need to visualise your pact marks disappearing. Remember, magic is all about imagination.”

You nod, a concentrated frown marring your face as you listen intently to him. “So… I just need to think of the pact marks disappearing?” You take note of how he looks at you with a twinkle in his eye as if he is scheming. He waved his hand, and you felt a shot of cold air brush past your fingers. With a glance down, you could see the pact mark peeking through again on your hand. 

Despite your itch to ask what was on his mind, you decided that it was better that you didn’t need to know. Whatever it was, you don't feel like getting involved in it today. Instead, you closed your eyes trying to focus on the imagery of smooth, unmarred skin that you once had before you made any pact marks with the brothers.

You knew you had succeeded when you heard Solomon take in a sharp inhale of air, prompting you to open your eyes, “You really are a fast learner, aren’t you?” Although, it was normal to get praise from Solomon especially after he started tutoring you in the basics of magic… You still get flustered sometimes.

You starkly avoid eye contact even as he coos at you with praises, walking away in embarrassment as he trailed behind you like a lost puppy. 

══════════════════

a/n ▸ this was supposed to be a fic abt the brothers reacting to mc learning how to hide the pact marks but once again, it got derailed by solomon lol, maybe ill make a follow-up with the intended purpose of the drabble

edit: I will make a follow-up soon!!!! i just hate proofreading 🫠 it's up!! part 2

[dollfacefantasy]

LOCK ME DOWN TONIGHT ♡

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

summary: seeing how you handle babysitting his nephew gives your boyfriend some ideas about what he wants in the future with you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, breeding kink, tummy bulge, biting, au obviously lol

a/n: i hope you guys like this one. it's my first time writing for sukuna so i'm still learning. he's kinda ooc here but i scrapped my other draft last minute and i thought this was a cute idea so whatever. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 18 - breeding kink

You make sure to be as quiet as you possibly can while shutting the door to Yuji's bedroom. After an hour of going back and forth and the small boy pleading to stay up with you and your boyfriend downstairs, you'd finally managed to get him to fall asleep.

Padding down the carpeted hallway, you turn the corner and hit the light switch off before descending the stairs. Your socks slide against the hardwood floors of the landing as you hop down the last few steps and then cross the entryway into the living room where your boyfriend waits for you on the couch.

He's leaned back into the corner of the puffy cushions, relaxed as ever in a pair of sweats and a tank top on his upper half. Both of his exposed arms drape over the backing. Upon seeing you, he flashes a lazy grin and runs his fingers through the unkempt hair atop his head.

"You finally get the little brat to go down?" he asks.

You nod and make your way over to him. "No thanks to you," you say as you sit down beside him.

He smirks and lowers one of his muscular arms to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side.

"You're just such a natural with him. I didn't think you'd need my help," he says, a hint of teasing lacing every word.

Shooting him a playful glare, you scoff and scoot into his lap. "You still could've tried. He's your nephew."

"He calls you his aunt though," he teases. He leans in to nip at your cheek and nose your temple.

The words bring a slight rush of warmth to your cheeks. They're true. The little boy you just put to bed acknowledges you as part of the family just as much as he does his actual uncle. In fact, you were the one to push Sukuna into accepting the offer to babysit tonight. He hadn't wanted to, preferring to spend the evening alone with you all to himself. But integrating yourself into his life mattered to you, so he only protested a little before agreeing.

He notes your reaction to his prior statement, and his smug look reaches his eyes. "Oh come on, don't tell me that has you all flustered," he taunts, "You're too easy."

"Shut up. You said it like that on purpose," you say and pinch his arm.

Grinning at the gesture, he maneuvers the two of you around so that you're on your back and he's above. The tv casts a faint glow over the both of you, the flashing pictures painting the scenery with pale blues and washed-out pinks.

"How'd I say it, babe?" he asks.

"Like you do when you're trying to get me all worked up and stuff," you answer, tracing the tip of your index finger over the tattoos spanning from his shoulder to his arm. Your eyes flit between his piercing eyes and soft lips.

"Is that what you think I'm trying to do?" he says. But before you even get your answer out, he ducks down to pepper kisses along the column of your throat.

Your eyes flutter, a natural response to the feathery touches upon your skin. He always started out like this, tender and gentle, before devolving into his true nature. One of your arms wraps around him, your fingers trailing up the ribbed fabric of his top. The other pushes on his shoulder in a light rebuff.

"Yeah, but we can't," you protest.

"And why not?" he breathes. The puff of air fans over your flesh, chilling the parts wet with his saliva.

"Because 'kuna..." you start, trailing off a bit as he lays more kisses along your carotid artery, "We're supposed to be babysitting. He could come downstairs..."

"He won't," he interjects, "You saw how tired he was. He's out for the night. Plus he's clumsy, I'd hear him coming even if he did get up."

You sigh and bring your hand up to lace through his messy pink locks. He's pretty good at convincing you.

"Why are you so riled up anyways?" you ask in an attempt to give yourself a distraction.

He chuckles against your skin, nipping a mark onto your neck before speaking. "Is it really a mystery?" he asks.

"Yeah. What were you doing while I was upstairs?" you ask playfully.

"It's not that," he says, smirking at your cluelessness. He rolls his hips against one of your thighs and lets you feel the semi hard bulge beneath the cotton of his pants. "It's been all night. Seeing you taking care of Yuji like that, it has me thinking about what it would be like to see you carrying a baby of our own."

Your eyes snap open and look at the ceiling with sudden, wide clarity. You hadn't been expecting that at all. Your mind had been more in the realm of short-term, simpler things. Like scrolling past some porn on his phone or catching sight of a sex scene on the tv. Not the prospect of getting you knocked up.

It's not even that you're opposed to the idea. You just didn't think he would feel this way about it.

He senses your startled reaction and grinds his stiffening length against you again. "You're just so good with him. Can't help it," he mumbles.

"I- um... thanks?" you say timidly, voice still soft and shaky from the affection he's lavishing on your neck.

"Don't be so shy about it. Don't act like you haven't thought about it too," he murmurs.

The plush inner skin of your thighs presses into his sides. That was also true. You had thought of it before. After years of being together, the occasional image of him cradling a sleeping baby or boosting a small child onto his shoulders crossed your mind. You'd just kept them to yourself knowing your boyfriend wasn't exactly the lovey-dovey, wistful daydreams type.

"Yeah... I've thought about it before," you confirm.

"Mhm. That's right," he says. His hips have settled into a continuous rhythm. He rocks them between your legs. You feel the dull bloom of pleasure beginning at your center. "You'd look fuckin' gorgeous full of my baby," he whispers.

Your legs squeeze him tighter as if to draw his body in closer. Your breaths that had already been shallow come out more shuddery. It was silly almost, how hot the simple fantasies of domestic bliss could get you. The image of his large hands splayed across your swollen belly. The thought of his lips kissing over your bump, teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh as they do to every other part of your body. The praises he'd rain upon your figure that expanded to accommodate his spawn.

"Yeah, I know you like that," he murmurs, "So c'mon. Let me try to put a baby in you."

"Tonight?" you squeak. 

His hands slide up your sides as he nods. One of his large palms rises to paw at your breast. He gropes the mound, further stirring the arousal brewing within you.

"Yeah tonight," he says, "You feel how hard I am for you, how bad I want it. I don't think we'd have much trouble."

Involuntarily, you whimper. As much as you planned to resist, giving into temptation seemed like the only option now. It's impossible to resist him when he surrounds you like this, when he engulfs your perception so completely. You pull him closer on top of you in silent agreement. He knows your signs though, so it's all he needs.

His kisses grow rough on your neck, more set on leaving marks behind. The hand on your breast continues to toy with it while occasionally the fingers glide up to play with your nipple. It had pebbled up under your t-shirt, eager for his touch.

"You're gonna love it. Being so dependent, needing me all the time," he rasps, "And with a body like this, you were made for it."

His hands roam over your curves. They fondle and squish, intent on feeling every soft inch of you. Your clit pulses for him in anticipation of what's coming.

"And I'll be just as crazy for it, watching your body bend to my will, shaping up to carry our child," he whispers.

Another round of chills erupts across your skin. Both of you breathe heavier. You whine as his mouth migrates onto your collar bone, skimming the neckline of your top. Your chest heaves for him. Every part of you craves his attention.

Between your legs, your folds slicken with arousal, preparing for the inevitable. The throbbing from your delicate bundle of nerves only grows more intense, and you wish his fingers were down there providing you with some relief instead of lingering on your chest. Trying to get some friction on your own, you lift your hips to reciprocate him rubbing up against you, but he thwarts the efforts by pushing you back down and keeping you in place. He wants you where he wants you, you don't get to move and decide otherwise.

"Patience, doll," he tells you, "No need to rush."

Despite his words of delay however, his next move is to adjust your clothes into positions that leave you accessible to each other. He shoves his sweats down to mid thigh, allowing his heavy cock to spring free. The ache for you is practically visible to your eyes. It stands stiff with little beads of precum oozing from the tip. His fingers hook over the waistband of your bottoms and do the same to them, lowering them enough that he can get to the sweet spot between your legs.

He also tugs your shirt down, letting your tits spill over the neckline into his view. Ducking down, he latches onto a nipple while stroking himself. You hear the throaty groans echoing within him. Thoughts of your chest swelling up in the future dance through his head as you reach around to gently run your nails over the nape of his neck.

The schlick schlick schlick of his hand fisting his cock is audible from between the two of you. He bucks into his hand a few times before lining up and teasing your entrance with the tip.

"'kuna..." you whimper, lips forming into a pout. 

Part of it was impatience, part of it was nerves. Either way, he glances at you, lips curled into that sinister smile.

"Don't whine, brat. You know it never gets you what you want," he chides.

The words don't ring true though because seconds after saying them, he pushes the rest of his girthy shaft into your tight little hole. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sounds pouring out of you. Your eyes roll back as a harsh breath leaves his lungs.

"That's it. No more complaining," he mutters.

He sinks all the way in, taking a moment to feel the tight warmth of you around him before pulling back and starting to pump in and out. Your hand stays clamped over your face as he grins down at you. No matter how many times the two of you fuck, he'll never grow tired of seeing your face when he first slips it in.

You gush around his cock as he thrusts. His movements are measured and small, but they still strike hard and raw. The heated skin of your ass bounces against his thighs every time he slams forward. Each motion pushes you harder against the couch.

Soft mewls leak out against your palm. It all feels so good. His body caging yours down. The swollen head of his cock nudging all the sweet spongy spots inside of you. Even the sight of him above you stokes the flames of lust burning in you. His muscles flex as he holds himself up and slides into you over and over.

"Squeezing me so much, doll. You want this bad, huh? Wanna make me a daddy?" he taunts.

You bite your lip under your hand and nod eagerly. Another needy moan seeps from you as his hand comes down and presses on your belly. The sensation makes your hips squirm. You tighten up more around him.

"So good for me, takin' it like this," he grunts, "Doing what you're meant to."

Your eyes flutter as you respond with another weak nod. Looking down, you catch the faint bulge that appears with every jolt of his pelvis. The sight is enough to spur you closer to the edge. You reach up for his shoulders, pulling a bit to get him closer.

He obliges your gesture and lowers himself on top of you, your bodies flush against each other now as he grinds himself deep inside of you.

"You're gonna look so fucking good, all rounded out for me. I'm gonna want you knocked up until you can't give me any more," he murmurs.

You feel his lashes flutter against your neck before his teeth sink into your neck. The bite isn't hard enough to draw blood or really hurt, just gives you a nice little sting. A small shock of pain to mix in with the pleasure.

"Fill me up, 'kuna. Wanna feel it take," you whisper, your voice breathy and broken up by whimpers.

"Oh it's gonna take," he grumbles.

He keeps rutting into you on the couch until he feels himself reaching that high. Like he usually does with you, he keeps his face against your neck when he cums. His groan vibrates against your sweaty skin while cum spurts into you from his tip. He moves in erratic beats, losing his sense of rhythm.

Your legs lock around his waist, and you keep him pressed close as can be as you reach your own peak. Rocking your hips upward, you meet his handful of final thrusts. You manage to stay quiet through it before finally sliding your hand off of your face. A full breath fills your lungs.

As you come down, you melt into the couch cushions below. He stays on top of you, catching his breath. His body rests there, boneless and limp. He doesn't pull out, just stays there for a few moments.

When he finally does detach himself, he lazily lifts himself up and slides back. He fixes his clothes and yours, looking down at you a bit softer than before. A softness he would never verbalize, of course.

Instead of talking, he flops over and squeezes in beside you on the couch, slotting himself between your side and the backing. He wraps an arm around your waist. His eyes casually land on the tv.

"Try not to move too much. We want it to take," he mumbles and nestles his face against your neck again.

[chuluoyi]

𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒐 !

- gojo satoru x reader

valentine's is around the corner and word has it that you're going on a date with geto...? no way! gojo is going to make sure that you're saying no! ever wonder how gojo finally gets you to become his? be prepared for a confession of a lifetime!

genre/warnings. crack, semi-failed love confession (it's gojo, what do you expect?), poor geto, and of course, fluff !!

notes. i genuinely love writing this :') loser gojo has always have a soft spot in my heart *sighs* i'd recommend listening to beautiful & because of you - beast (highlight) for this !!

a part of gojo's love entries and valentine's special !

Satoru doesn't really pay attention to holidays. To him, it's all the same—he can turn everyday into a holiday if he wanted to.

However, Valentine's Day is an exception. He knows it and is somewhat excited even. Why, you ask? Because this is the moment he has chosen. He's going to make you his on that very day.

He had everything planned out to perfection: skylit rooftop, bouquet of roses, eloquent speech (at least, he thought so). He was going to charm the pants out of you and it'd be a smooth-sailing event, he was sure of it!

At least until he heard that life-shattering gossip—

"I saw Geto-san asking her out for the 14th just now!"

"What?" he snapped his head in Haibara's direction, who was eagerly sharing with him and the others what he had allegedly heard, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

"Ehh, not bad," Shoko mused with a hint of amusement, casting a curious look his way. It was obvious she was enjoying this.

Nanami let out a thoughtful hum. "That's quite a surprise. I didn't think they'll go that fast."

"But how?!" Satoru suddenly exploded, grabbing Haibara by the collar. "How did that slimy bangs go from saying nothing to asking her out?!"

"O-oh Gojo-san! Don't squish me, please!"

And from then onwards, his focus was set: preventing you from falling into Suguru's grimy hands. Absolutely no way! He was so close already. He was on the cusp of winning your heart, and he knew it!

Now, you laughed at his jokes, you didn't ignore him as much, and you even asked him if he was okay after his recent mission! That was huge progress, even Satoru knew as much. And no, even if it was Suguru, he refused to hand you over to him.

On the 14th, you were going to be his... even if it cost him everything!

Gojo Satoru is annoying. You supposed you knew that already, but over these past few days, his ability to get on your nerves somehow had ascended to a wholly new level.

"I'm telling you, you should go with me! I'm going to take you somewhere amazing!" he practically demanded right up in your space, prompting you to let out a long-drawn sigh.

By all means, his attempts to woo you were all lame. He didn't know the first thing about being humble, and logically, you should have been more inclined to push him away.

‘Should’ being the operative word, because, somehow, over the past few weeks, you've started to see his antics as not just bearable but even endearing in a way. No one had ever pursued you with such relentless zeal before him, and it became increasingly difficult to overlook the way your heart fluttered in response to his (occasionally dubious) attempts to win you over.

So, right now, it really wasn't because you were playing hard to get. "Gojo, I've told you already. I can't on that day, I've already got plans," you sighed, exasperated.

He shot you a glance, his expression shifting into a brazenly raised eyebrow. "With Suguru?"

"How do you—"

"Tell him no," Satoru pressed, scowling. "Tell him I asked you first."

"In fact, he asked first—"

“Just say no!”

“No!”

"You're seriously going on a date with him?" he questioned, almost in disbelief. "And what, you're going to confess to him too?"

His tone didn't sit well with you, causing your irritation to rise. You frowned and retorted boldly, "And if I do? It's not like you can do anything about it anyway."

Wait, that actually hurts. Satoru was now irked too. Hadn't he shown enough for you to understand just how much of a big deal it was for him? Didn't you know he actually likes you so much that it made him toss and turn on some nights?

(No, you didn't really know. He just made himself look stupid most of the time. You were not that impressed.)

"As a matter of fact, I can," he began, expression turning into a slight sneer. "I can and I will if you still insist on going with him."

"Wha?"

"I'm going to crash your party so hard, you'll wish you hadn't gone behind my back. The audacity he has, trying to steal my girl!"

"You sound like a creep," you couldn't help blurting out, wide-eyed. "And I'm not your girl—"

"You—are quite heartless." His gaze on you behind that glasses hardened, and you were suddenly taken aback by how upset he looked. "I'm giving you my all—I think about you all day and night I think it's actually making me crazy!"

You stared at him, genuinely dumbfounded this time, realizing that somehow or another now, he was pouring his emotions out.

"Nothing I say will make sense to you, but whatever—" he exhaled sharply in frustration. "It's always you—in my mind. Compared to anyone else now, you're the prettiest. And if you were to ask me to pull a Blue on Ichiji right now, I'd probably do it! You see now—what you have done to me?"

"Ichiji? Gojo—!"

"You might think I did all of this for your attention, and yes, you’re right! That's how much you've messed with my head!"

. . .

Oh, now he had really gone and done it, hadn't he? He had laid it all bare, every last bit of it—the chaotic heap stacking up as his botched confession. And there were no roses, no rooftop, and none of the grandeur he had envisioned. This was so not how he wanted it to go at all.

Satoru grimaced, suddenly regretting this turn of events. He had seen it coming already—you calling him a total weirdo and then leaving him in the dust. Just the thought was enough to make his heart squeeze. Wanting to escape before it became a reality, he abruptly turned on his heel and walked away from you.

He barely made it a few steps away before he felt a firm tug on his arm.

"Wait! Gojo!"

You grabbed his arm tightly, forcing him to turn towards you. Satoru stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, his lips pressed into a massive pout. Yet, beyond that display of defiance, you could discern a hint of heartbreak splashed across his face, and it made your stomach churn.

Always trying to make you look at him. Always trying to get you to smile through his lame jokes. Making himself stupid on purpose. Frustrated when his feelings went unnoticed… All Gojo Satoru did thus far finally added up.

So it's true... he likes me this much...?

In that moment, warmth flooded through you. This idiot. Everyone said he was no good, but your heart couldn't help but leap, and a flurry of butterflies seemed to dance in your stomach.

In this instant, everything seemed to fall into place. Any doubt you might have melted away, leaving only a sense of certainty about your feelings. Everything just feels absolutely right.

"I'm not going on a date with Geto, you know."

"Huh?" Upon hearing that, he swiveled to face you, his gaze intensively searching your face for further explanation.

With a huff, you elaborated, "It's for my Grade One promotion mission. Geto-san asked to join me for it."

"But why? He doesn't need to—"

"He wants to tag along to absorb more cursed spirits, you see..."

"Oh, amassing new little friends, I see," Satoru quipped, face scrunching up distastefully.

His mood seems better now, you noted. You exhaled, your heart suddenly felt like it was pounding louder. "So, you've got the wrong idea. It sucks but my Valentine's day is going to be spent on a mission."

A beat passed by before he finally spoke again, still sheepish and avoiding eye contact. "I'm coming with you too, for that... mission or whatever."

You pressed your lips together, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. "And?"

"And... huh?"

"That's all? Nothing else you want to add?"

And suddenly his eyes sparkled back to life. Beyond those ridiculous round glasses, his bright, yet steadfast eyes met yours with such vibrant shine it made your chest thump so hard and face flush with matching intensity.

Silly, silly boy... liking me so much that he turns stupid.

"Actually, I've got plenty more to say!"

With an indignant snort, you released his arm. "Well, I'm waiting. Because what you just said before has to be the most underwhelming confession I've ever heard."

"Wha? Hey! That wasn't my confession! Just you wait, I'll do it over, and this time, I'll make you swoon so hard you'll forget how Suguru's face looks like!"

And on the night of February 14, he truly surpassed himself once again in making a terrible confession, and yet it still signified the day you truly became his—the beginning of your life together, which along the way, would be filled with more shenanigans, endless laughter and of course, love.

Epilogue

"Haibara, I really thought you're the most sensible here! I can't believe you!"

Suguru massaged his temples with utter grievance. So this was the cause of his headache and constant death stares Satoru gave him these past few days—the three people gathering in front of him!

"I've told you already, Nanami—Gojo is really going through with it," Shoko cackled with utter satisfaction. "Now, pay up."

"Ieiri-san... sigh— from now on, I'm not participating in your bets anymore."

Haibara, who went with Shoko's suggestion to incite this, sheepishly laughed. "Ehe, Geto-san, all that ends well is well though, no?"

"Satoru was really about to skin me alive! Ugh, and you almost ruined my date too..."

"Eh? Date?" All three sets of eyes suddenly fixed on him in utter astonishment. "Who?"

-> continue to 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 (with geto suguru—soon!)

[jq37]

Aelwyn is sixteen and preparing for midterms at Hudol. Uniform pressed and starched, head full of incantations and spell components. She doesn't mean to bump into Adaine and get orange juice all over her shirt but today isn't the day she's going to start showing weakness.

"You know, you really should watch we're you're going," she says archly, playing off the clumsy mistake as a purposeful jab.

Playing it off a bit too well because, the next thing she knows, Adaine is flipping her off and a bolt of queasy looking, green energy is coming towards her. Ray of Sickness. And she can't spare the spell slot for Counterspell because she needs it for her exams.

"You little bitch!" Aelwyn says once she's emptied the contents of her stomach down the front of her shirt.

"Good luck with your exams," Adaine says sweetly.

Aelwyn is eighteen and the oldest, mangiest cat she's ever seen in her life has just vomited on her shoes.

"My," she says, casting a shield spell around her ankles to stop the cat from clawing at them. "You weren't kidding. He is a little bastard, isn't he?"

The shelter volunteer looks mortified. "Oh, gods! I am so sorry. I tried to warn you--I mean, not that I'm blaming you but--"

"No, it's alright. I did ask you to show me stragglers."

The shelter worker gestures to another pen on the other side of the room. "I can show you the kittens we just got in or there are some very well behaved older cats as well if you'd--"

But Aelwyn cuts her off, scooping up the old cat--though she holds him at arm's length for now, just to be safe. "No need. I haven't changed my mind. I'll take this one." She looks at the tag on his collar. "Hector."

Aelwyn is three and, as of a month ago, no longer the youngest Abernant.

She's had baby dolls in the past but never a baby sister and this is exciting new territory. She's full of questions. When is she going to be able to walk? When is she going to be able to talk? When will she be old enough to have lembas bread instead of formula?

Her parents seem less fascinated by the new addition to the family than she is but her mother is amused when she slaps away the hand of a colleague of her father's who tried to touch Adaine before sanitizing his hands, standing between the much larger man and her sister.

"So defensive. Perhaps she'll be an abjurer."

When Aelwyn asks what that is, her mother says that it's a kind of magical protector and she likes that a lot. That sounds like a good thing to be.

At night, Adaine cries. Except, she doesn't hear it because the mobile above her crib is etched with runes that cast the Silence spell.

"But what if she gets hurt?" Aelwyn asks.

Her father brushes her off. That's what the Unseen Servants are for. But she thinks that's what an abjurer might be for too and even though she isn't one yet, that doesn't mean she can't start practicing.

So, every night, Aelwyn waits until her parents have put Adaine down for bed and then tiptoes into her room. She checks to see if Adaine is silently wailing and if she is (and even sometimes if she isn't) she presses her face between the bars of the crib and sticks her little hand over Adaine's face.

"Don't cry," she says, even though the Silence spell mutes her words as completely as the tears. "Mum said I'm an abjurer. Nothing will get you. Don't cry, baby."

Adaine grabs her hand with impressive grip strength for something so small and, within a few minutes, she's trancing peacefully.

Aelwyn is seventeen and her sister is off to save the world again. This time from a Night Yorb--whatever that is.

It feels cruel that Adaine should have to go risk her life again so soon after she just almost died--not almost died, she did die before being raised by her cleric.

She wants to come with, to help in some way. Surely she could be helpful--last quest they brought Gilear for Helio's sake!

But Adaine doesn't ask her and she can't bring herself to say the words she needs to have the conversation she wants. So, instead, she lightly whaps Adaine on the shoulder with her spellbook as she's packing for the quest.

"I know you haven't done much studying lately what with your grades being based on how many hobgoblins you kill or whatever ridiculous system Aguefort has cooked up," Adaine rolls her eyes at that, "But if you don't mind a little cram session before you leave tomorrow, I can show you how to cast Teleport like I said. Might help you stay a touch less dead on your quest."

Her tone is light but her eyes betray her: Please, please, please don't die again.

Adaine's expression softens but then she scoffs, playing her half of their game. "I don't know what a Hudol dropout who's been in jail for the past year is gonna teach me but do your best."

Aelwyn is seven and her father is cross with her.

"Really Aelwyn," he says and even though they're talking via crystal she can feel the frost of his glare. "You thought it was appropriate to call me at work for no good reason? How many times have I told you and your sister to not bother me while I'm working."

She hates the word bother. She doesn't want to be a bother. She tries very hard not to be. Maybe she just didn't explain herself well enough.

"I know, father. But Addy got really scared and panicky on the playground. She was breathing really hard and--"

Her father makes a noise of disgust. "I don't have time for this. She is in primary school now. Stop coddling her. And her name is Adaine, not Addy. Please speak properly. I'm raising you better than that."

He hangs up before she can say anything else.

Aelwyn is eighteen and most of the claw marks on her arms have healed, which is nice. On her lap asleep is Hector who has apparently decided he likes her enough to use her as a radiator but not enough to submit to medical treatment without using her arms as a scratching post.

"You little heat vampire," she says as she slides her thumb across the screen of her crystal, searching for a video that will help her out. Eventually she finds one that looks promising and she calls it up.

On the screen, a halfling is standing next to a cat who is actively shredding her sweater with its claws. "You're going to be tempted to use some kind of a shield spell when applying the ointment," says the halfling. "But cats can smell abjuration magic and they don't love it. You won't get close enough to do the job. Isn't that right my darling?"

In response, her cat hacks up a hairball.

"Darling indeed," she says under her breath.

But even laced with sarcasm, the word is sweeter against her tongue than she anticipated.

She sinks her hand into Hector's fur and scratches his back for a few moments before tentatively speaking aloud. "Sleeping well, my darling?"

Hector says nothing--he's asleep and a cat. But warmth blooms in Aelwyn's chest--more than enough to make up for what Hector is leeching from her.

Aelwyn is seventeen and her father has just given her the most horrible command she's ever received in her life--and she's counting being made to sink a ship full of people in that calculation.

She knows her father doesn't expect her to delicately extricate the knowledge he needs from Adaine's mind. He expects her to get it at all costs. To ransack and pillage the memories if necessary with no heed of the consequences on her psyche. He'd probably prefer it that way--the more broken Adaine is, the easier it will be to mold her into a version of herself that is more useful to him.

Aelwyn is usually a smooth talker and a convincing liar but now, she stumbles all over her words, babbling out a stream of deflections and pleas as her heart squeezes tighter and tighter in her chest until she can't hold back the truth that she's been suppressing for years anymore.

"Adaine's just…she's a baby."

Aelwyn is eighteen and her apartment is full of cats.

She's always thought that the phrase, "One thing led to another" was a bit of a cop out--clearly there were key steps between point A and point B being glossed over--but in this case, there is truly no better way for her to articulate how she went from zero cats to ten cats in such a short amount of time.

She's sure that if she was still living with Jawbone, he'd have something to say about it but that's exactly why she isn't currently living with Jawbone.

She portions out food for all of the cats, saving Hector for last because he likes to eat curled up next to her.

"My darling baby boy," she says, lifting him onto the couch with her because the jump up is a bit much for him and his old bones. She kisses him on the top of the head and then pulls out her crystal. She scrolls mindlessly for a bit before checking her messages despite the fact that there's conspicuously no notifications.

Not that she has many people to expect texts from but she hasn't heard from Adaine in a few weeks and it's unsettling. When they weren't getting along, they were still living under the same roof. She was able to keep tabs on her, more or less. Now, they're closer than they've been in ages but barely talking.

I'm the older sister, I suppose, Aelwyn thinks. I should take the initiative.

She pets Hector with one hand and drafts a message with another: Are you alive, bitch?

She's about to press send but then she frowns and deletes the draft. After a few moments of thought, she taps out a new message: Can't believe I'm gonna say this. Miss my little sister. Everything all right?

Aelwyn is seventeen--though she doesn't feel like it.

Her mind is telling her that she's sixteen and that she was just been broken out of a jail cell in Solace but Adaine is telling her that she's just been broken out of an entirely different prison after being tortured for months even though she doesn't remember any of that.

But her body feels frail and Adaine says she's been in her mind which means she must have used the hard reset.

She's suddenly feeling very vulnerable--not because of the disorientation or the of the levels of exhaustion she can feel weighing on her like leaden chains. No, it's because of the fact that Adaine using the reset means that she must have read the treacle-y note that she left there for her to find.

It was just an insurance policy, she tells herself. There was wisdom to buttering up your savior to make sure she'd do what you needed her to do.

She manages to mostly believe it. But the small, truthful part of herself that knows how deeply she meant the words is so uncomfortable that she antagonizes Adaine until she's annoyed enough to hit her with a spell, sending her into blissful unconsciousness.

Aelwyn is nineteen and she's going to kill her mother.

Well, not alone of course. Adaine deserves the kill at least as much as she does if not more. It'll be a group effort.

It's a strange mix--the cold fury at her mother mixed with the warmth she feels for her sister, sitting across the table from her. She summons a flame to her palm, a preview of what their mother has waiting for her. She watches Adaine's eyes harden with resolve and she sees the face of her baby sister, left to wail alone silently for hours, soothed by her presence. "Let's get her."

"Yes, my dear," she says, the endearment coming freely as if this has always been their dynamic. "We'll get her."

But there will be time for that later. Right now, it's time for ice cream and seeing Adaine so content in such a simple pleasure causes the warmth in her to surge so suddenly that it would be startling if it wasn't so pleasant. The urge to voice it is so powerful that she doesn't know that would have been able to stop it at any point in life, let alone now.

"I hope we get to eat ice cream and cast magic forever," she says, words that would have been impossible for her to say one short year ago and impossible not to say now.

And, to her delight, Adaine agrees.

[mellifluouaamor]

MASH BURNEDEAD, FINN AMES, LANCE CROWN, DOT BARRETT, RAYNE AMES, ABEL WALKER, ABYSS RAZOR, WIRTH MADL, CARPACCIO LUO-YANG, ORTER MADL (SEPARATE) ⍣ GENDER-NEUTRAL READER

synopsis. his reaction to you asking him, “what if i suddenly disappeared one day?”

author's note. reader's relationship with the boys is up to your interpretation! but reader is implied to be orter's betrothed here c;

as a blank look crosses his face, MASH almost drops the cream puff he was eating upon registering your question. he stops for a moment to think what exactly made you ask him that, but when he can't come up with any reason he decides to ask you a question of his own. "did something happen?"

when you don't answer him, he clenches a fist beside his head. someone must be threatening you - why else would you ask him that out of nowhere? "tell me his name. i'll punch the stuffing out of him so he doesn't bother you again."

mash is puzzled when you wave your hands around frantically, claiming that nobody is bothering you. "i was just curious!" you exclaim, "don't think about it too deeply. i just wanna know how you'd feel and what you'd do if it happens."

he hums thoughtfully as he continues eating his cream puff. the thought of you suddenly disappearing makes his chest feel heavy. losing you is like losing his pops - but ten times worse. he visibly deflates and stops eating, which worries you. when you place a hand on his shoulder, mash grabs that same hand and pulls you towards him.

"if you suddenly disappeared one day... i'll be sad. but i'll find you," he says, cupping your cheek which grows warm under his touch, "and i'll keep trying until i do."

FINN would stare at you like you've just told the entire world his deepest and darkest secret. a few seconds pass, and the freckled first-year then clings to your sleeve as if he's a child about to be left behind by his mother. "wh-what? why would you ask that? where would you go? why would you go? is... is everything okay...?"

you could tell that he's becoming more anxious with every second that ticks by from the way he's clenching his fists against your robe. you reassure him that everything is okay and he relaxes a little, but he's still bothered by your question.

"then why are you asking me...?" he asks, trailing off. he's starting to think that you're actually hiding something from him and becomes jittery again. he grips your arm tightly, afraid that you'll disappear into thin air if he doesn't, and you wince; you swear that he's cutting off the blood circulation in your arm.

when you tell him that you're only asking for fun, that does little to ease his nerves. "but i can't get it out of my head! i'm scared- i don't want you to disappear without a trace!"

for the next few days, finn would become extra clingy and glue himself to your side whenever he can. lance and dot would cast judging looks his way, but he couldn't care less. as long as he's with you, there's no way you'd suddenly disappear, right?

LANCE rolls his eyes at your question. "like that'll ever happen. you don't even know how to cast the transportation spell properly." despite his words, he's a bit concerned that something might be happening to you behind his back or you're sick, and you're not telling him about it.

"oh come on, you know that's not what i meant!" you exclaim, "just answer my question!" he lets out a quiet sigh. folding his arms over his chest, he stares straight ahead and thinks about what he'd do if you were suddenly gone from the academy one day.

"there's not much to do except to ask your friends and teachers where you went. if they don't know, then i'll search for you myself." there's a pause, and you tilt your head curiously as he looks down, his bangs casting a shadow over his eyes. "i'll keep looking until i find you." after that, lance doesn't talk to you for the rest of the day.

the following morning, your friends tell you that lance was borderline interrogating them about your private life last night, making you internally question his intentions. you can feel someone's gaze on your back as you go about your day, making you scared of the prospect of someone stalking you.

you also notice that lance has been overly attentive towards your activities over the course of the week, asking questions such as, "where's your next class? which friend are you going to sit with? what class do you have after that?"

DOT doesn't think much about it at first and just laughs. "disappear? where are you even planning to go?" with a beam, he slings an arm over your shoulder. "don't think of going anywhere without me! wherever you go, i'll follow!"

you laugh along, unable to continue the conversation with how much of a cheery fellow he is.

later on, dot's mind would drift back to your question. he knits his eyebrows together, wondering why you would even ask him that. is someone bullying you? or maybe... he stands up abruptly and slams his hands on his desk, disrupting the class as he shouts, "I OFFENDED THEM WITHOUT KNOWING?!"

even when he's told to stand outside of the classroom until the class ends as punishment, he couldn't stop thinking about it. he's itching to barge into your classroom to ask you, but holds himself back from getting into further trouble.

during one of your breaks, dot would pull you aside and hold your shoulders firmly as he stares into your wide eyes. "look, i'm sorry for whatever i did. i'll apologise a thousand times if i have to," he says, and after a brief pause he adds, "just don't go anywhere i can't follow."

RAYNE is immediately alarmed by your question, and he turns to face you with his usual frown deepening. he then grabs your arm to prevent you from leaving and asks, "what do you mean? spit it out. what happened?"

he won't let you go until you tell him everything. he doesn't even bother hiding the fact that he's worried, and the worst case scenario keeps surfacing in his mind. this is why he didn't want people knowing that you're close to him; you might be used against him, or even worse, hurt because of him.

"please, (y/n). tell me if something's wrong," he implores. he can't bear the thought you disappearing right before his eyes, and he really thinks that your life is in danger. even when you say that you're asking the question in a general sense, he's not about to take any chances.

rayne would ask max to look after you in his place and to keep tabs on your activities, as well as the people you'd frequently interact with. max thinks that he's overthinking but does it all anyway because he understands rayne's concern for your safety and well-being.

rayne would also make an effort to spend more time with you outside of classes so that he can guard you himself. you'll have to give him plenty of reassurance to convince him that nobody is out to get you.

ABEL drops his doll; that's how shocked he feels when you asked him that haunting question. why would you ask him that, knowing that he had lost his mother when he was a child? do you want to torture him by disappearing without a single trace of your existence?

you immediately regret asking him that and try to apologise. before any words could leave your mouth, abel pulls you into a tight hug with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other around your shoulders. his gesture catches you off-guard, rendering you speechless.

"please don't," he whispers, "i feel the safest with you. if anyone or anything tries to take you from my side, i swear i'll take you back." without you, abel would truly be a lost child searching endlessly for the warmth that had left him.

the following day, you'd find abel and abyss as your scary dog privilege on campus.

"... are you actually scared of me?" ABYSS gives you a melancholy smile as he asks you a question of his own. he had always dreaded the day that you would admit your fear of him because of his evil eye; although he knew that you would never leave him simply because of that, he still can't help but be scared of the slightest possibility that you might.

he slowly reaches for your face and gingerly cups your cheek, as if he's scared that you might reject him and pull away from his touch. he lets out the bated breath he didn't know he had been holding when you don't, and caresses the soft skin with his thumb.

"i know it's selfish of me to say this... but please don't leave me. you're all that i have, and life is only worth fighting for when you're there," he admits. abyss had a rough past where he was unloved even by his own parents, so when you approached him with a smile that shines like the light of dawn, he found himself unable to let go of your outstretched hand.

however, if the situation ever calls for it, he's willing to learn to let go. "if there ever comes a time when you're no longer by my side... then i'll accept it. but if anyone tries to take you against your will..." there's a pause as his left eye glints. "then i'll make sure that they're the ones who disappear."

WIRTH lets out a loud laugh before leaning towards your face with a smirk. "And who would dare to take you away from me?" he'll gladly challenge anyone who attempts to do so, and he's confident that he'll win. "you've always been bad at hide and seek too, so how would you even hide from me?"

"just answer the damn question," you say with a huff, "it's not that deep. it's only a 'what if'." propping his chin on the palm of his hand, he mulls over what you had asked. if you disappeared because someone took you away...

"well, i'll simply find you and make the perpetrator suffer," he replies, "by the time i notice your disappearance, you wouldn't have gone far anyway." then, there's a long, awkward pause as wirth averts his gaze, like he wants to say something else but is reluctant to.

after a moment, he adds in a more serious tone, "if you need any protection, don't hesitate to find me. i promise i'll keep you safe." you can't help but feel a bit shy hearing those words come from him.

CARPACCIO is eerily silent. he doesn't even look at you. he could only try to think of what his life would be like in your absence… and decides that he doesn't want to consider the possibility.

"disappear where?" he asks as he finally meets your nervous gaze, "would you disappear unwillingly? or of your own accord?" cupping his chin, he thinks about your question more thoroughly and tries to apply it in the different situations he could come up with.

"if you were taken against your will, then the most logical thing to do is rescue you," he answers, spinning his knife around his fingers, "and of course, i'll make sure that whoever kidnapped you will be in so much pain that they wish they're dead." a slight shiver went down your spine; you could actually see carpaccio doing that.

"but if you left on your own, then..." carpaccio trails off for a moment, unsure of how to vocalise his thoughts. "... i'd still find you, i guess. and try to figure out why you left."

carpaccio knows that the question you asked is merely hypothetical... but he can't stop himself from thinking that he may have done something to make you consider disappearing from his life. he'd try to figure out what instigated those thoughts of yours before finally asking you.

"i have ways of looking for missing people. just finding you would be child's play," ORTER answers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "is that all you'd like to discuss with me? please stop wasting my time with your nonsensical questions. if you're that unhappy with our engagement, take it up with my father."

he doesn't want to admit it, but he's actually thinking about your question far too much to the point that it's affecting his daily life. he gets visibly agitated whenever he's not in your presence, which doesn't go unnoticed by kaldo, who proceeds to tease him. "what got you so nervous, hm? worried that your future spouse won't be happy with you once you're married?"

if renatus happens to be passing by, he'd join in by saying, "he brought it upon himself. who asked him to be an ass fiance? i wouldn't be surprised if they plan on disappearing from his sight."

renatus' words would get orter thinking. after pondering your question more, he'd come to the conclusion that you feel neglected and are planning to leave him soon. the mere thought makes his chest feel painfully tight, and he'd drop whatever he's doing to search for you.

the longer he takes to find you, the more anxious he feels inside. the moment he sees you, he'd grab your shoulder and roughly turn you around to confirm that it's really you. you're surprised to see the dread on his countenance, which gradually dissipates once he's sure that he has found you.

there's a flash of guilt in his eyes, and as he gently takes your hand in his, he quietly says, "i'm sorry. please... don't ever leave my side."

(you can read kaldo's part here)

[orimuraa]

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺You got me looking for attention - OT7

(synopsis) ˖⌕ ۫ enhypen falling in love with you at the game caterers picnic ⋮

idol!enhypen x fem idol!reader ˖⌕ ۫ flufff ˖⌕ ۫ love at first sight for enha ˖⌕ ۫ wc 1.3k

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

it was definitely getting warmer as the sun came out more and they hadn't even started filming yet! heeseung was fanning himself off when he saw you for the first time. you were walking in with your group, looking absolutely STUNNING and the wind blowing your hair back in a cool effect. heeseung just couldn't take his eyes of you for the entire rest of the picnic. how had he never seen you before? your smile and laughter was infectious and it was like you were casting a spell on him. unfortunately, he was too shy of a person to actually go up to you and start a conversation. but the world seemed to be on his side that day because as all the groups were getting ready to go home, you quickly ran up to him, handing him a note, bowing, and then running off. let's hope the cameras didn't catch you looking at me the whole time ;) text me xoxo xxx-xxx-xxxx -y/n from y/g/n

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

jay had just received his mission and he knew straight away, who to go to. you. he had never really interacted with you before but everyone in the industry knew that you had a talent for limbo. quickly running over to you, he took your hand in his and ran back towards the center of the field. "what's the mission?" you whispered to jay, curious why he picked you. jay looked over and immediately realized he was still holding your hand and quickly flushed. dropping your hand, he was able to get a good glance at you and how pretty you were. why had he never really noticed it before? you had the visuals of a freaking angel! "o-oh! right, it's limbo," he stuttered, still a bit flustered from the moment before. you confidently smiled, finding the boy quite cute. at the end of the picnic, jay thought he would only see you again if your groups had comebacks around the same time, but you proved him wrong. as he was cleaning up his seat, he saw a small piece of folded paper on it. i had fun meeting you today. let's not make it a one time thing! call me, xxx-xxx-xxxx -your limbo champion, y/n.

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

jake was so done for. the moment you had come into view, he knew his career was over. he literally couldn't take his eyes off of you and if the camera caught him more than once, there would be dating rumors flying all over the place. he realized just how beautiful you were now that he could see you in person and he even had the privilege of dancing right next to you during the entire random dance play segment. you and him struck up some light conversations and it only made jake fall even harder for you. his members were constantly teasing him for being whipped for you from the start, but how could he not be when you were so sweet and pretty? jake realized that he probably wouldn't have another chance to interact like this with you for a while. however, right before jake was about to go back to the dorms, you stopped him. "i know it's really sudden, but i really liked chatting with you today and i hope we can talk to each other more! here's my number so don't be shy and send me a text sometime!" and before jake could answer, you were already running off to catch up with your group.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

wow. sunghoon was so jealous of your group. you had just won the word relay and now your group won every prize there was to win. sunghoon couldn't help but smile a bit at the sight of seeing how cute you looked while celebrating. this wasn't the first time he had interacted with you. you and him actually had a special mc show together, so you at least knew each other. but sunghoon was not expecting for you to come over to the enhypen tent with a small plate of everything on it for his group to share. "we only have 4 members so we thought it would be better to share! please enjoy sunbaenims!" you did a 90 degree bow before turning on your heel and jogging back to your own tent. you really were so cute. sunghoon had been moping around after that because he realized that due to the industry the two of you worked in, you wouldn't be able to see each other more without some sort of consequence. but he didn't wanna follow the rules. he saw you gathering your items and he took the shot. "hey y/n! i was just wondering if you wanted to maybe meet up outside of work? just as a friendly hangout?" he asked, surprised by his new confidence. "yeah! that sounds nice," you smiled. damn, he was one lucky guy.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

the two of you were becoming an iconic duo in the random dance play. you happened to be next to each other and you two decided to help each other out if needed. sunoo couldn't help but steal glances your way, admiring your beauty. you had caught sunoo in your love trap because he was down bad for you by now. you smiles and laughter were so contagious and he just couldn't help but smile as well whenever you did. he did know you and your group before this picnic but he never really paid attention until now. you had pulled him in and now he was intrigued by you. while taking a break from filming, you quickly came up to him, giving him your number on a small note and then running off back to the safety of your eonnies. sunoo found you so cute the way you blushed like crazy while getting teased by your members. how could he not fall for you?

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

after jungwon and his group did their little intro, it was your group's turn. jungwon wasn't one to pay full attention, but for whatever reason, he felt himself drawn to you. you were doing the moves so effortlessly and with the prettiest smile on your face that he just couldn't resist. your group lined up beside enhypen and jungwon felt his heartbeat quicken when you placed yourself right next to him. out of respect, you bowed to him and all his other members with a quick hello. you didn't even do anything but jungwon found you so cute. throughout the picnic, he just couldn't take his eyes off you and he was sure to get into a scandal with you with how many times he glanced your way. he thought he was being sneak but when you came up to him at the end of the picnic, he knew he hadn't been. "here's my number, i hope to see you around more," you winked. oh that dating rumor would be so obvious.

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力

it was finally lunch and the unbearable sun was really wearing ni-ki down. he had been having a blast but he definitely needed a break. while waiting in line to win his lunch, he struck up a small conversation with you. to be truthful, he had been admiring you the whole morning and how kind and pretty you were and he wanted to get closer to you. you laughed at his jokes and the two of you got along so well. his hyungs had to practically pry him away from you so he wouldn't get you or himself into a serious scandal. but that wouldn't stop him. he was determined to get your number. the two of you continued to converse with each other and ni-ki was building up more and more courage to ask you now. luckily for his chicken self though, you came up to him at the end of filming and slipped him a quick note with a cute message and your number. this picnic was the best thing that happened to him (besided debuting ofc).

this was so fun to write and i may have gotten a little carried away with it....but anyways! special thanks to @taehyunnzly for the idea! and if you enjoyed, pls send feedback, like and reblog! i appreciate it so much <33

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (6)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I hope you all have found ways to cope after the breakup, but here all your questions will be answered on what went down pre-August! Special shoutout to @just-fics-station @thepurplecrown @clarkysblog @hotdismylife and @sprinklesprinkle888 for sharing your ideas and indulging me with the lovely, crazy discourse!

To everyone, I am so chuffed at how this has become OUR story - our lil self-indulgent Ewan Nation production. You all are aces <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

In the aftermath of the breakup, the reader and Ewan throw themselves into their work, trying (and failing) to avoid any trace of the other. Will they remain this way - former lovers doomed to drift in each other's orbit?

Some time before August

New York City

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden antiques, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot.

The discussion was straightforward enough, never mind the saccharine tone Bruce seemed to be so good at. Aimed at making Ewan feel welcome, coddling him, remarking with awe at his projects thus far. But there was a fakeness to it. Ewan steeled himself, trying to adapt to the style of conversation. After all, if he is in this for the long haul, then he would have to get used to these situations.

Bruce appraised him, leaning back on his leather swivel chair. "How are you with the fantasy genre? All that YA, lovesick stuff the kids eat up so eagerly nowadays? Personally, I haven't got the taste for it, but it always makes bank, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, well, I'm a fan of all movies. I definitely see why the fantasy genre has made such an impact on audiences, especially with the romance element, you know, I get the appeal."

"Well, son, we've got a solid franchise in our hands here. Some adaptation of an elf-human love story, mind you, it sound ridiculous, but you know how it is. And the team seems to be in agreement - you fit the bill for the male lead. The male elf lead - " he almost guffawed at the thought, then collected himself " - hope you don't mind my saying that you've got elvish features yourself. Long nose, long jaw, lanky. The teens are going to eat you up."

"Ah," Ewan smiled curtly, nodding. There was a backhanded compliment if he ever heard one. "Well, sir, I've read the script - at least, the bit that was sent to me - and it looks quite promising. I'd be honoured to - "

"Of course, of course!" Bruce exclaimed in pleasure, cutting Ewan off mid-sentence. "And there's the case of your leading lady, and this all boils down to chemistry as you know. Our top contender is that Jenna Ortega girl from the Netflix show, you know her?"

Ewan nodded, well aware. He's seen her work, and thinks that she is a top actress of her generation, but leave it to Bruce to reduce her to being that girl from the Netflix show.

"Yes, she's a very talented actress," Ewan replied.

Bruce hums in agreement, head bobbing as a smirk materialises on his face. "Think she's a looker?" he said openly, without shame.

Ewan laughed nervously, his words caught in his throat.

Bruce, characteriscally oblivious to the discomfort of others, carried on. "I only ask because we're going to need you two to be pretty chummy with each other when you jump on this project. It's kind of a condition of the whole thing, but really nothing to concern yourself with." He waved a hand in the air, his proposition barely carrying any weight in his mind. But Ewan was catching on, and he started to develop a dislike about the whole deal.

"What do you mean?" Ewan asked.

"It's pretty common in this business, son. There's a reason why young, new actors like yourself opt to remain unattached so to speak, so they're always open to a PR arrangement or, you know, just so their - your - hoards of fans would think they got a chance with you," Bruce explains lazily. "In this case, since you and Ortega are, as I said, unattached, getting you two together would fuckin' do wonders for our movie."

Our movie, he said, convinced that Ewan was all in, because why would any young actor refuse such a golden opportunity? Franchises like this can set up an entire mainstream Hollywood career.

Ewan thought that he wasn't unattached. Granted, his date with you was yet to happen, but he already felt bound to you. He wished you were the one tapped to be his love interest. Very little acting would be needed there. Maybe he might even be inclined to go along with the idea of selling the relationship, using it for publicity for the film, but even that made him uneasy.

The industry offered a lot of privileges, but more often than not, they come at a cost.

"Sir, I - "

"Bruce."

"Right, sorry. Bruce, I have to tell you that I'm not exactly unattached."

"Got a partner?"

Ewan actually found himself smiling at the thought of you being called his partner. His first easy smile since entering this office. "Yes, she's an actress herself," he agreed.

"I heard of her?" Bruce asked with obvious disinterest. You were but a wedge in his flawless plan.

"She's kind of a new talent like me, but she's brilliant. She plays Alyna Rivers in our show."

"Ah her," Bruce loosened up a little. "I get it, she's a piece."

Ewan cleared his throat loudly, his jaw clenching on instinct. "So, like I said, I'm with her. I'm sorry but this whole PR arrangement with Jenna wouldn't work."

"Look, kid, I want my movie to do well, alright? I got a lot invested here. This PR thing has proven to be highly bankable time and time again. If you don't trust me, I can ask the team to show you the data on all that. It's a lot of boring numbers, but shit, the numbers are never wrong."

"I don't need to see - "

"If you wanna be with your girl, you can, but you just gotta learn to hide it. Sweep it under the rug, you know. Don't canoodle in public, you crazy kids," Bruce offered, like that made things any better.

"You want me to hide my relationship?"

"Hey, now, come on. Word gets around. Isn't your girl also doing this exact same thing with Jacob Elordi?"

"Not anymore, I don't think," Ewan clarifies, "and that was... that was hardly anything. They weren't obligated to do it. It just worked by chance because they were both single for a time."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to." Bruce clicked his tongue before making his next point. "So you see how it works, your thing with Ortega won't be any different."

"Do I have a choice?" There it is, the defining factor.

Bruce smiled slowly. The calculating and menacing air about him intensified, and it was obvious he was not there to be Ewan's friend.

"It would be stupid to refuse something like this, kid."

Ewan's blue eyes flashed in return. None of this was ideal, but his nan raised him well, and he knew better than to falter on his values in times of trial.

"Sir, what's stupid is if you ask me to hide my real relationship for the sake of mere publicity for a film."

"Stupid you say?" Bruce sneered, having already discarded Ewan in his mind, his fragile ego bruised. "What a shame."

There wasn't much to say after that. Bruce was clearly not disinclined to reveal the ice that settled in his veins, and it dawned on Ewan that it had always been the case. There was no true hospitality here.

For bigwig casting director-slash-execs like Bruce, this was a transaction. And Ewan was not about to put what he has, or what he could have, with you on the line.

There has to be another way to advance his career. If not bigger productions, then at least those with less domineering producers.

"That is a shame," Ewan said, getting up from his seat. "I won't waste any more of your time, sir. Thank you for considering me."

Bruce's eyes darkened even further. "You're actually refusing me? For some girl?"

Another genuine smile formed on Ewan's face at the thought of you. Some girl.

But you're not just some girl. He nodded without a trace of doubt in his mind, before reaching out to shake Bruce's hand. "If you don't mind, sir... I have to go and see my darling."

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Near the end of August

Los Angeles

The modern space sported a minimalist yet rustic feel, the interiors a blend of sterile white and sleek wooden surfaces. Very LA, as they say. The windowed walls offered plenty of light, as well as precious views of the valley below.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Donna," you greeted Ewan's publicist as she ushered you in her LA office.

"No problem at all, sweetheart," she said. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? Ewan always has his coffee with way, way too much sugar. Mind you, if that kid wasn't active and boxing all the time, I'd be worried for his health."

You smiled fondly at her genuine concern. "Don't even mention the cigarettes."

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, settling down on the chair across from you. She could have sat down at her desk, making the meeting more official, but Donna's always had a friendly and open way about her. "So, my sweet, how's your new movie coming up?"

You respond eagerly. The dialogue flowed freely, talking about your film and the lukewarm reception of season 2 of House of The Dragon. And finally, Ewan.

"I really thought he would get the Greta Gerwig film," you said. "Everyone said he was perfect for it. I think Greta herself had nothing but praises for him when they met on Zoom."

She sighed thoughtfully, "I thought so too. And, theoretically, he did have that one almost booked up. But there was an issue with one of the producers, which - I don't even want to get into that."

You shook your head, catching on whom she hinted at. "Donna, I heard... well, it didn't go too well in New York, didn't it? Ewan told me about it but... if you can tell me more, I just want to understand why - "

"Sweetheart," she offered a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "you should talk about this with Ewan."

"I tried. But he wouldn't budge. Mallory told me... that it might have been because of me that he didn't get the role? And also why he's struggling to get roles now? Donna, I... I can't have that."

It took some time for her to formulate a response. She didn't want to step in something that's none of her business. Your relationship with Ewan is yours. But when his career is on the line, she supposed that she needed to have some say in that.

"He met with this top producer in New York. This real old money Hollywood guy. For decades, he's built careers for the greats, you know - Pitt, DiCaprio, Theron, and whatnot. There was a franchise project practically offered to him on a plate, but Ewan refused, because a non-negotiable was that he would have to hide you in favour of a PR arrangement with his leading lady."

You swallowed, the weight of the truth making itself clear. "Couldn't he have just done the movie without that?"

"You would think," she grimaced, "but some producers... when they want something, they have to get it. And well, Bruce wasn't lying, that would have sold the movie well."

"I thought we were past this," you expressed sadly. "I understand how PR relationships work. Just recently, I found myself kind of in the middle of one. But there was no pressure, it wasn't forced on us, and it was meant to be all in good fun."

"I know, sweetheart," she insisted, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "Bruce is an outlier now. Most of the time you do get lucky, with an all-around supportive production team, just like with your project with Elordi."

You hummed in agreement on that positive note, but your mind kept drifting back to Ewan.

Donna continued, wrapping up her story, "but Bruce is still here, and he still has a lot of power. But you know, it'll be fine. Ewan's got such a huge fanbase and so much talent that it'll only be a matter of time before something else knocks on his door."

You wanted to share her sense of optimism, but something ate at you. What else will Ewan have to sacrifice just to be with you? This was his dream, his one dream, and you were standing in the way. How much longer before he is offered another project but he refuses to take it for your sake? Your thoughts blurred together, bordering on irrational, but you couldn't help it.

All you could picture was the unabashed sincerity on his face, that sense of wonder, when he told you that acting had always been his dream.

Being tied down to you, this early in his career, would surely only hurt him. And you don't think you're worth it.

"Ewan loves you, sweetheart. Anyone with eyes can see that," Donna said after a while, heeding the storm brewing in your expression.

He loves you. It was true.

Less than a month in, and you've already found yourself with a love that you've never felt before. And perhaps never will again.

And that was the problem.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Late September

The podcast moderators are overly welcoming, if not a little loud for Ewan's taste.

The BBC podcast is called Loose Ends, and it's one of the first things Ewan agreed to take on upon returning to England.

He had wanted to head straight home to Derby, to bury himself in his heartache and bitterness, but the team for the show tapped him for a couple more promotional stints, riding on the high of the season finale. And who better than Ewan to offer to the media, the undeniable fan favourite.

Clad in an old gray shirt and blue jeans, people would think he just rolled right out of bed. He didn't really have the motivation to put in more effort. The only striking thing about him is his newly bleached head of hair, supervised by his stylist for a photoshoot a few days ago.

It was ironic, the timing of such a change. Ewan knew that if word got out that you dumped him, he would never hear the end of the joke of that being the reason for his hairstyle change, typical of all heartbroken sods.

Everyone bursts into laughter when he tells them about his mum's reaction to his nude scene. It feels like going through the motions, and he must have been so out of it, so forlorn, that his team prepared an outline for him prior to the interview. The questions and answers all pre-agreed.

Make them laugh. React as required. Remember to speak when spoken to. The mantra goes on in his head.

And don't think about her.

An impossible task, worsened when a moderator goes off script and asks, "Now it wasn't me who saw this, as I'm not on social media myself, but one of our interns did mention that you ventured into Instagram recently? Is that true?"

Oh fuck.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess," Ewan laughs nervously, his hand massaging the back of his neck in a self-soothing motion.

"And your first post went viral? What can you tell us about that? Our listeners would love to know."

"Uhhhm - " He remembers that the broadcast is live, and he can't exactly ask them to edit this part out, so he quickly settles for something indirect. Inconclusive. Safe. " - did it go viral? I'm not too sure how that thing works. I haven't used any kind of social media before."

"Apparently it did! And it had to do with the subject featured in that photo, Ewan. Your costar - "

"Mmm," Ewan stops him there, "didn't you say that you don't use Instagram?"

"No, I think I'm too old!" The moderator laughs.

"It's insane, that whole thing," Ewan shakes his head. "I don't know how to handle it. I'm logged off most of the time."

"Oh, you log off?"

"Yeah, yeah, helps me keep my focus, you know. Keep calm and all that."

"It can get frivolous, can't it?"

Ewan hums in agreement, and thankfully, the moderator moves on to his last question. One that does not breach the subject of you.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Another day means yet another media stint for Ewan, this time for Now TV.

Still in London, his stylist Davey and the rest of the team prepare him for a day of brief interview clips, to be posted on the social media pages of the company.

Davey had half-joked about Ewan needing even more concealer than usual, the shadows under his eyes having significantly deepened after the breakup.

Some of his team have gotten wind of what happened. They would curiously ask about you, how often Ewan keeps in touch with you while you're on set...

You must be on FaceTime everyday!

Is it hard to be doing long-distance so soon?

Do you miss her? Is that why you're not getting any rest?

...but Ewan would only laugh uncomfortably, dismiss it by bringing up another topic or shifting the attention to someone else, or excuse himself to go for a smoke.

He'd been drowning himself in cigarettes and caffeine during the day, pint after pint in the nighttime. Aimless.

He is coping. He knows how it must look, but he deserves this. He deserves to drift for a while. It's the only thing he can do to keep himself from jumping on the next flight to Atlanta and begging for your hand back.

You said you love him. You did. He hangs on to it like a beacon in a storm. No matter how pointless it may seem, with you choosing someone else over him.

Work is becoming something of an anchor, something that keeps him from spiralling. He's an actor, and he has always wanted to be an actor. People now have expectations of him, and he will answer the call.

The interview session begins with generic questioning, stuff he's answered before on several occasions.

How special is the bond between dragon and rider?

What is a funny moment from set that you can share?

How similar are Aemond and Daemon?

All safe. He's proud of himself for not breaking mental clarity thus far. You're in the back of his mind, dormant as a memory, and not something looming darkly over him. For a while, at least.

But then he is asked, If you could invite any 5 people to a Ewan Mitchell dinner party, who would you pick?

"Matthew McConaughey - "

You.

" - Bruce Lee. I think they could strike up an interesting conversation - "

Your name echoes in his mind, and he can't control it.

" - Andrea Riseborough. She's just a chameleon, like in any role she undertakes -

You have great taste. Even if you would make him eat spicy food again, he'll take it. He'll endure anything for you.

He's stumped for a second, lump in his throat, and his effort in avoiding you leads him to mention someone who will always be a comfort to him.

" - Maybe my nan, because I miss her -

Your name. He has to say your name. Who else? Think of someone else.. but who else? Who would be better?

" - and then, another person. Let's make it from the show... it would be Alyna Rivers."

"Oh really?" The interviewer asks. She's not really meant to respond in this instance, but she knows that the fans would go crazy about any mention of you or your character, so why not jump on this opportunity? "Can you tell us why you chose her?"

"Uhhm, well, she's just an amazing character, you know, fiercely loyal, beautiful, tenacious," Ewan replies easily, "so yeah, she would make for good company."

It is obvious that he is describing you just as much as he does Alyna Rivers, and no doubt, the fans will catch on to this detail.

Later, he's asked about his favourite part about season two, and he duly answers, "Seeing more of Aemond and Vhagar's bond and how that perhaps have gotten stronger. Aemond has definitely reined her in, after the accident at Storm's End."

Then, "There are some new additions to the show. Do you have a particular favourite?"

Another obvious piece of bait. And he takes it, he doesn't care anymore. What's the use of denying the truth?

"A favourite new character? Oh, well, uhmm... I really do like Alyna, and I think I've said before that Aemond and her are quite similar in a sense that they both know what they want and how to achieve it. It's just a shame they're on opposing sides, because if those two get together... " he trails off, leaving it up to the audiences to fill in the rest of the thought.

And they eagerly do. The clips where Ewan mentions Alyna get the most traction, flooded with comments that more or less talk of the same thing -

We know why you chose Alyna, Ewan. We know your ways.

He could have said Alys. Or Gwayne. Or even the ghost of Daeron ffs. But nooooo.... it's Alyna Alyna Alyna 😮‍💨

I wonder if she's there behind the scenes

yeah shes definitely lurking in the background!

Aemond and Alyna better have at least a scene together in season 3!!!!!

Someone kidnap Ryan Condal and make him write this

Ewan doesn't see any of it. Not that he's missing out, because he soon feels the need to call his younger cousin to ask her how to turn off his notifications on Instagram.

Day in and day out, his one single post gets dozens of new comments and likes, a brutal reminder of what he's lost. He could just delete it, and get rid of his profile entirely, but he hates to imagine the discourse that would follow.

All the invasive allegations and rumours. So he leaves it be. It makes no difference to him now. Let people believe what they want.

To his chagrin, he finds himself scrolling on his home page once in a while. The addictive element to it was true, and for him, it's exacerbated because the things he sees are often related to you.

Photos of you from fanpages and news accounts. Ones where your friends have tagged you. It's a toxic habit, looking through it all, but he can't help himself.

Then one day, as he's slouched on the seat in his London apartment, phone propped on his knees, he sees a cutout photo of his face on the corner of the screen. He clicks on it, and it's an image of him interposed among different posts. Posts which he apparently liked.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he cusses at himself, reading the caption.

Boyfriend lurking? - Ewan Mitchell may play a formidable TV villain, but in real life, he's just like us. Click on the link in bio to see his series of liked posts!

Dread takes root in him, followed by self-loathing. Why couldn't he just keep off this bloody thing? He takes to the comments to see what he has allegedly liked on accident and it's predictably photos of you - you at a premiere, stills of you as Alyna, and even, heavens fucking forbid, a behind the scenes shot of you getting pretty close with Jacob Elordi on the set of your film.

He vividly remembers seeing that last one, because he went on a bender after coming across it.

Cursing himself and his wayward, sticky fingers, he exits the app and deletes it from his phone.

Whatever goes on there, whatever people might leave on his profile, he washes his hands of it.

He calls up several of his mates, asking them if they want to come over for a few drinks.

"Again, Ewan?" one of them exclaims. "C'mon, you gotta take a breather, mate."

"I don't need a breather." I need her.

"Ewan - "

His composure breaks, all his damned frustrations rising to the surface, and he confesses, "I wonder if she thinks about me."

"Hang in there, mate. We're coming over."

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October

The director finally yells a satisfied, "Cut!"

It's only taken a good twenty-something takes for you and Jacob to nail a challenging scene. You had been on a roll since the beginning of the shoot, the last few weeks seemingly a breeze on paper, though it's a constant struggle to keep it together.

You've had to quell your internal dialogue so it does not stray to him. His smile. The feel of his skin against yours. His way of subtly picking up on details, and doing sweet things that surprise you as a result.

But you received word just before the scene that a few of your friends have come to visit, waiting back at your trailer - Phia, Fabien and his girlfriend, Bella.

And so, as if on instinct, Ewan is all you can focus on, every repressed memory of him rushing in like a tidal wave.

Do they know? What could you possibly say to justify what you did? You can only hope he took on that project, to give you a bitter sense of vindication.

It's the only thing that keeps it all the bay, the only thing that keeps you from jumping on the next flight to England and grovelling at his door.

Phia has her arms wrapped around you the moment you open the door to your trailer, loudly squealing, "I missed you!"

You sink into the hug, comforted by her presence.

As well as the fact that she represents some connection to Ewan.

Phia, Helaena. Helaena, Aemond. Aemond, Ewan.

It's a sick game to play, but it's what you have.

"Hey, yous," you hug Fabien and Bella in turn. Not long after, you're all lounging on director's chairs right outside your trailer, enjoying a bit of sun.

"How's our big Hollywood star?" Phia quips, her lips curling in her trademark pleasant upturn.

"Hardly a star," you shake your head fondly. "More of an indie darling."

"Of course, of course," she relents, before going on a monologue about how she's been keeping tabs on your project, how she just adores the costume designer whom she spoke to at length while you were working, and how the rest of the cast is rooting for you.

The rest of the cast.

"Ah, are they?" you ask, making a conscious effort to not simply blurt out his name. What does he think? Has he mentioned you at all?

Do they know?

Do they secretly hate you for what you did?

"Mhmm, right Fabs?" she says.

"Oh, definitely." Fabien agrees right away.

"How's your film? Are you done shooting in Philly?" you ask him.

"Just about done, but I think we're doing some final reshoots next week. I'm just glad my girl's here to visit," he slings an arm around Bella, who smiles and leans closer to him.

You smile at the sight, but it visibly falters. Ewan could be visiting you on set right now, just like Bella with Fabien, if you hadn't fucked it all up.

They notice.

"Love," Phia sighs, her tone softening. "I just want you know - we want you know - we're here for you, okay? No matter what you went through with... " A pause. Like saying his name would open up the floodgates.

Your gaze falls to your lap in shame. You pick on invisible lint on your trousers. Bite your lip. Breathe deeply.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"So you guys know, huh?"

"Well, more or less," Phia says. "I just spoke with... Ewan... recently. He's back in Derby for the time being, and he's - "

"He's a bit rough," Fabien says firmly. He's not taking sides here, but he's heard from Ewan, and he feels the need to have his mate's back. "Look, I don't want to pry, but what happened? It seemed like you guys were doing so well together!"

"You don't have to tell us," Phia adds, shooting Fabien a look. "But if you want to, we're here to listen. We love you both and we just want to help, love."

You feel your eyes welling up. Leave it to Phia to be oh so sweet. You can't lie to them, you don't want to. Even if you did, they would see right through it.

Your friends know you too well.

"I... I miss him."

Phia squeezes your hand, and the whole story is about to spill out of you when you hear your name being called.

It's your assistant Clara, letting you know you're needed back on set.

You swallow back tears, standing on your feet, trying to maintain enough composure so you can grant yourself access back to your character.

"Go do your thing, superstar," Phia smiles comfortingly. "We'll be here when you're ready."

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November

"I'd like to propose a toast," Tom declares out loud in the empty pub, "to Ewan, Hollywood's new elf... Lord? Prince? Ah sod it, cheers!"

Round the table, Ewan, Fabien, Luke and Elliott all raise their pints with a collective, "Hear, hear!"

The pub has been cleared out for the lads, thanks to a favour called in by the twins, with the owner being their gym buddy and good friend.

"Thank you," Ewan replies, smirking. "I am your new elf prince, address me as such."

"Your ears have never been pointier, mate," Luke quips.

After a month of moping back home in Derby, or recovering as Ewan prefers to put it, he got a call from his manager telling him that the offer from Bruce still stands.

Apparently, the production team for the movie still had him tapped as the prime choice for the lead. After observing his audience metrics and overall viability, they decided that the movie would fare the best with him in it.

They had planted some half-baked announcements in the media, stating that it was Ewan against Joseph Quinn and Manny Jacinto for the role, and the fan reaction veered in Ewan's favour by a landslide.

Even though Bruce had an unsavoury word or two to say about him, he was willing to work past it, so long as Ewan would be more amenable to his demands.

After careful deliberation, Ewan chose to throw caution to the wind, and accept the role. So what if he has to pretend to have a real-life romance with Jenna? This is what you wanted.

"I'm glad you finally came out to see us, mate," Fabien says. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, fuck's sake. Remind us never to break your heart! That was tough to witness, you hunkerin' down out there all mopey and whatnot," Elliott laughs.

"Mmm." Ewan takes a swig of his beer to hide the wince he couldn't hold back. His friends, and most of the cast know by now, not in too much detail, of what went down between the two of you.

A typical short-lived romance of two actors. A summer fling. Most of them would look back and only see it as that.

Even though it was so much more. Even though Ewan still recalls how warm and soft and beautiful you felt as you whimpered underneath him, the loss of you as painful as getting hit by a freight train.

The liquor helps. Burying himself in work helps. Denial... well, that certainly helps the most.

When he goes out to the back garden for a smoke break with Fabien, he tricks himself into believing it's mere curiosity that compels him to say, "Phia mentioned that you guys went to Atlanta."

Fabien is rendered off guard, because he knows what's coming. "Yeah, we did. Bella came with us too. She was visiting me on set," he says, measuredly.

"Mmm." A long drag, a flick of ash towards the ground, an unaffected shrug - and eventually, with as impassive of a tone as he can muster, Ewan asks, "So how is she?"

Fabien smiles knowingly. "She's doing great. Her film's looking pretty good." He's privy to the truth, after he and Phia managed to gently coax it out of you over several martinis at a hotel bar in Atlanta. But he doesn't think it up to him to reveal that to Ewan, out of respect for your privacy.

While he might not share your sentiment, he thinks it's not in his place to tell Ewan that you basically lied for his sake.

But that doesn't mean he won't drop a helpful nugget or two.

"You know, I don't exactly know what's going on... but her and Jacob came across as nothing more than friends."

Ewan's hand freezes mid-air, the cigarette inches from his lips. He loathes the sense of hope that immediately bloomed in his chest. He's so bloody easy. One miniscule hint, and his delusions break through the wall of indifference he worked so hard to build.

"She said she has feelings for him," Ewan stresses, trying to convince himself. What was the fucking point of all this... this pain... if you never did?

"Hey, mate, I dunno," Fabien puts his hands up, "just telling you what I saw."

"It doesn't matter." It does. "She ended it." He wants you back, he will always want you back. "It's better this way."

"Is it?"

Ewan doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to, without grossly embellishing the truth.

Fabien watches his friend, sensing his hesitation as he averts his gaze. One thing becomes clear to him - you and Ewan are far from being over.

So he says, "She misses you, you know."

Ewan regards him with a stony look, one that slowly softens to reveal the broken boy inside. For but a moment, before he clears his throat and throws the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

"Let's head back inside."

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December

You're back in London, as production for your film is paused for the upcoming holiday season.

Work is supposed to be the last thing on your mind, but it just so happens that your manager has you booked for a chemistry read for a yet undisclosed film.

Phia came over to your apartment, insisting that she help you get ready. When you asked how she found out about your audition, she was quick to say that she was up for the role as well but didn't think it was right for her.

"Why not?" you ask, as she hovers over you, patting blush on the apples of your cheeks.

"Oh, you just get a feel for these things."

"Phi, it's just a chemistry read," you say, when she reaches for the mascara. "I don't need to get all dolled up for this."

She gasps, "Oh, but this is showbiz, darling. We always have to put a face on."

"Fine," you relent. "Do your worst."

The makeup she ends up doing on you is minimal, but it enhances your features just the right amount. You rush through your final preparations, folding up the script sample you were given and stuffing it in your purse.

Phia stands out on your balcony, in the middle of a call. The window screen is slightly open, so you hear snippets of the conversation as you walk by.

"Is he ready?" she asks. Who's he? You assume it's the guy you are doing the read with.

You don't know about him, but you are ready, so you stick your head out to say, "I gotta go, Phi."

"Oh!" She startles a little, angling her phone away. "Already?"

"Yeah, the read's at 4, I believe. Just lock the door when you leave, 'kay?"

She hurriedly whispers something to her phone, presumably ending her call. "I'll actually head out with you," she grins. "My work here is done anyway."

"Any plans for the night?"

She shrugs, "Might meet with Tom and Martha."

"Oh, why don't I meet you guys after my thing?"

"Uhhhm," she chews on her lip, thinking. Under her breath, you barely hear her mumble, "... hoping you'd be busy."

"What?" A restrained chuckle escapes you, confused as to why she's being so coy.

"Nothing," she tilts her head. "We can meet if you'd like."

The weird exchange is out of your mind when you arrive at the casting agency. You run the scene through in your head as you walk in the building, up the elevator, down the long hallway.

It's a heartfelt scene, if not a little tense, a dialogue between reunited ex-lovers.

Your manager Polina and publicist Mallory greet you at the doors, swiftly briefing you before directing you in.

"They're waiting, just walk right in, doll," Polina says.

"Okay, wish me luck!" You have your hand on the door handle when Mallory strangely remarks, "Don't hate us, sweetheart!"

"Why would I - "

"Go, go," Polina guides you in, then shuts the door behind you.

The office sports an spacious and open layout, with plenty of natural light streaming through large windows. The primary workstation is partially hidden behind a subtle partition. You see silhouettes of a few people behind it, so you walk down that way.

The figures reveal themselves soon enough - the casting agents you recognise as Patrick and Amie, sitting in front of the actor you're meant to read with.

A range of emotion washes over you, but you don't even have time to reckon with them. The casting agents divert your attention from Ewan, as they approach you with wide smiles in greeting.

"So nice to finally meet you!" Amie croons. "Take a seat. You two already know each other, of course. Between us, there won't really be a question of chemistry here."

"Right?" Patrick adds, looking between you and Ewan. "The fans sure think so, and we have to say we already agree."

"So just give us a minute to set up," Amie says. "Then we'll start."

You smile stiffly, settling down on the opposite end of the couch. You keep your gaze straight, trying to keep your attention on Patrick as he sets up the camera. Your heartbeat races the entire time, and you feel your hands getting clammy.

"They're all in on it," you hear Ewan say, prompting you to finally look at him directly. You take him in hungrily, admiring his outline, ever so handsome with his Targaryen-blonde hair and black leather jacket.

A weak "Mmm?" is all you can muster.

"Our teams, Tom, Phia... they set us up. Tom came over and I overheard him on the phone with Phia."

"Oh," you mumble. He doesn't even spare you a glance, leaning on the armrest on his side of the couch. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here, next to you, and it hurts.

It's what you deserve.

"Is this not a real chemistry read?" you ask meekly.

"I suppose it is," he laughs humourlessly, "but it's not a coincidence that you and I just happen to be the only ones scheduled for today." He turns to you, giving you a critical sideways glance. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"I... I can leave if you want - "

"Mmm," his brows furrow, "you do seem to be good at that."

You look away. He is not being fair, but you weren't neither, that wretched night back in September.

And he is making you pay for it now.

But then you hear him speak in a softer tone, "Stay."

Stay. When you look at him once more, his attention is entirely on you, arm outstretched on the couch like he just tried to reach for you but decided against it.

Stay, he asked. So you do.

It's what you should have done, months ago.

"Okay, guys. Whenever you're ready," Amie says. She and Patrick take their seats in front of you, with the camera on a stand between them.

The script crinkles on your lap as you hold it with shaky fingers. "It's been a while," you read out your opening line.

The dialogue plays out twisted and ironic, now that you know who your scene partner is.

"Hardly," Ewan responds in character. "I feel like no time as passed."

"Feels like a lifetime."

He pauses, then sighs, "Do you even miss me?"

"How... how can you even ask me that?"

"How can I - "

"Why didn't you... why didn't you fight for me?" your voice breaks, the lines hitting a bit too close to home.

"You're a fucking hypocrite," he spits with venom. "You weren't exactly giving me anything to fight for."

"I did it for us. I did it all for us." If you didn't feel like crying at the weight of the scene, you would have rolled your eyes at the similarities.

"Like I said - nothing to fight for."

"Nothing? So you're telling me I was nothing to you."

"No," he levels you with an icy look, "you were everything to me. Everything. But you left me behind, and for what? So you can run off with the rebel sect?"

"The mission needed me. You wouldn't understand." You feel a sense of relief when the sci-fi elements roll in, otherwise you might have given in to your emotions and sobbed right there on the damn couch.

"I needed you," Ewan says, eyes not leaving yours. "I needed you and you abandoned me, just like that."

"And are you not better for it? When I left, did they not make you General?"

"See, that is the difference between you and I," he says coldly. "I wouldn't have traded what we had for anything - no position, no amount of wealth, no glory... I would have chosen us every time."

"Aaand cut!" Patrick jokes, effectively breaking the tension.

The two of you have unconsciously drifted closer, now only a foot part. Ewan does not drop your gaze, watching you closely. You see his eyes flit down to your parted lips, and he leans in almost imperceptibly.

"Alright, how about we go one more time?" Amie says, diverting your attention. "Give us a different take, and then that's it!"

Ewan settles back on his end of the couch. When he reads his lines again, his tone is harsher and he no longer meets your eyes.

Patrick and Amie commend you both afterward, singing praises about your acting abilities. Ewan is polite as always, blushing and grateful, but he practically dashes out of the door when the meeting finishes.

You're left standing with Amie, as Patrick has taken to his laptop to file the footage.

"The way he looks at you," she sighs dreamily, referring to Ewan. "You'd think the sun shone out your arse, doll."

"He... he was just in character," you disagree. "He's a good actor, as you know."

"Yeah, I mean, he nailed the part's rancour perfectly. But his eyes - oof - you've got a good one there."

Oh. Of course they would still assume you and him are together.

How desperately you want it to be true.

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An hour later, you've just sent Phia a text saying - You owe me. Where do I meet you guys?

But you hear a knock on your apartment door. If you didn't buzz anyone in, it can only be a neighbour or someone the doorman recognised.

Someone familiar to you.

And it's him.

"Ewan?"

"I need to speak with you."

You step aside so he doesn't linger at your doorway. He walks past you, a welcome if not unexpected presence in the room.

You can't decipher his expression, his gaze angled downward as he leans against your kitchen counter.

When the silence becomes almost deafening, you laugh awkwardly, about to make some silly remark on whether he is still in character. But he doesn't let you diffuse the tension.

"I want you," he blurts out without warning. "God help me, I still want you. I think I might have a fucking problem because how can I... after what you did - " A momentary glance of betrayal, but you see the spite clear in his eyes. " - but I do. I can't get you out of my system."

"I'm sorry - "

"I don't need that," he says sharply. "I don't need your sorry. I need you. I need to have you, and maybe this way, I'll satisfy whatever pointless desire I still have in me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying - I'm asking - will you let me have you?"

"Ewan, I don't under - "

"I'm saying that we should sleep together," he says bluntly, and it feels like the rug has been pulled from under your feet, "but only just. You won't be mine, and I won't be yours."

"You're kidding."

He shakes his head, before adding, "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret. To the rest of the world, I'll have a different girlfriend anyway."

His words register, along with the bitter ache at his words, that you won't be his, he won't be yours. This is purely for pleasure. There used to be love here, and now he just craves the comfort your body allows.

You'll be using each other.

You should refuse. This is not healthy; this is not how you move on. Can you even go back to being good friends after this? But also - what have you got to lose?

What, except for him, and for good this time?

What, except everything?

"So what do you say - " He closes in on you, and with every bit of malice intended, the name no longer possessing the sweetness it once held, he sneers, "- darling?"

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy (continued ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well well well... the transition from friends to lovers to strangers to angsty FWBs sure is a slippery slope!

The time jumps are so we get through the moping quicker! It's mostly back to the regular shenanigans in the next part. Only, you know, angst-ridden. But you hurt Ewan, reader. *wags finger* Don't say you didn't expect this switch! Tsktsk

So what now - will you accept this arrangement? Will things ever be truly okay? Part 7 is going to be hot and hilarious and stupid and messy, just as the doctor ordered.

Let's hash it out in the comments, shall we? 🗡💕

[pinkanonwrites]

"Oh! That's What That Does?!"

All art by @archie-sunshine

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 2400+ Words NSFW, Valveplug, Plug 'N Play, Mild Sparkplay, Accidental Stimulation, Edging, Human Reader, GN Pronouns

Ahh, the inherent eroticism of repairing your machine.~ I've had this one cooking for a while, so I hope you all enjoy! I've also gotten pretty attached to this mechanic Reader, so they'll likely pop up again with other cassettes (and maybe even some other Decepticons!)

NSFW WRITING AND IMAGERY BELOW THE CUT!

“Ey… EY! Careful wit’ dat! It’s touchy!”

“Rumble,” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You're making this way more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I wouldn't be complainin’ if you'd stop touchin’ all up on bits that don't gotta be touched! Rootin’ around in there like I'm one’a your crappy organic machines!”

Removing your hands from Rumble’s open chest, you tossed them roughly into the air. “Y'know what? Fine. Do it yourself. Better yet, get Frenzy to pull the shrapnel out of your chest. That'll go great.”

You would have slid off of Rumble’s lap and stormed off, if not for his massive servos closing around your wrists with an unexpected delicacy. Your efforts to remove your hands only reinforced his grip, using just enough force to keep you from leaving without crushing your wrists entirely.

“H-Hey, no need ta be so hasty! Look, I’m just steamed cause'a the battle, dat’s all. Frenz’ can't do dis, it's gotta be someone more… dainty. Y’know. Little human hands and all dat.” The harsh glow of his visor had dulled slightly as his gaze cast down to your hands. You rolled your eyes, wrists finally slipping from his grip as you settled back in. 

Dangling wires and sparking shrapnel dotted his open chest cavity, illuminated by the light of his spark chamber. Rumble had staggered off-balance into your workshop whining about the prodding pieces of broken metal keeping him from transforming properly, yet you’d barely managed to get two wires back in place before he started squirming and whingeing and slinging verbal abuse at you.

 Not that you weren't used to it, any interactions with Rumble and Frenzy usually involved some level of bullying. Fortunately, the two cassettes are also incredibly predictable. As soon as you would threaten to take away or withhold what they're asking for, they’d start falling all over themselves with apologies and placations. After all, you may not have been the only mechanic in the area, but you were certainly their favorite.

“Are you going to actually let me work? Or are you going to start yelling at me again?”

“Yellin’? Who's yellin’? Yer the mechanic here, my spark is in your squishy little hands. Do your magic, doc.” He sat back again, servos clutching the edges of your workbench in a show of effort, a genuine attempt to keep them still (or however genuine any show of rule-following from Rumble could be.)

“That's what I thought. Now let me actually fix a few things before you start whining again.” Your gloved hands dipped back into his chest cavity, skirting the edges of his spark chamber to pick away at the bits of loose shrapnel stuck in some of the wires. His frame shuddered, a hiss of steam escaping through his dentae as your knuckles brushed the underside of the spark casing.

“C-Careful,” He said again, with significantly less bite to his tone.

“Does it hurt?”

“Somethin’ like dat.”

“I'll be careful, so let me know if it gets to be too much.” You smoothed a palm down the armor covering his stomach, flinching back when you heard another sharp hiss of steam.

“I’m fine! It's fine! Just… do ya gotta be all on top’a me like dis?”

“I can't reach properly if you're laying down. If you're standing you might keel over on me, and I really don't feel like being squished to death today.” He let out a low grumble as you jacked another cable back into its proper port. “I'll try to be quick, that way you won't have to worry about my ‘human germs’ and you can get outta here. Deal?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just-”

“Be careful. I know.”

And with that you went to work, separating and organizing cables, taping off leaky tubing and removing pieces of scrap metal as gently as you could. Every once in a while Rumble would jerk or twitch beneath your touch, letting out a muffled curse or huff but sparing you from his usual complaints. It was… uncharacteristically quiet, for sure. This was the most extensive repair you'd ever done on him, though, so maybe he was just having surgery jitters.

“Okay, I've gotten most of the shrapnel out. But there's a piece right behind your spark casing.”

“Well? Get it outta there!”

“I'm going to, but I need to get my whole hand in there. I'm warning you now because it's going to be bumping up against your spark casing a lot. I'm going to do my best but you have to tell me if it hurts too much.”

Rumble let out a long, pathetic groan. “Actually doc, maybe you can just leave dat one in there? F-For funsies?”

“Eh?! Rumble, I’m not gonna just ‘leave it in there’! It's gotta come out.”

“Something's gonna come out if you keep proddin’ around in there like dat…”

“What was that?”

“Gh! Nothin’! Don't worry ‘bout it!”

“...Okay. I’m gonna start now. Are you ready?” Rumble only responded with gritted dentae and a tense nod. Working your gloved hand under his spark chamber, you could feel the ambient energy making the hairs on your arm stand on end as you felt for the jagged edge of broken metal. Your glove blocked your view entirely, so you were left blindly groping your way up the metal surface, feeling for anything bent or out of place. When your fingers could no longer reach any further while still avoiding the casing, you slid forward and ducked slightly into Rumble’s open chest, the back of your hand pressing up against the underside of his spark chamber.

CLANG!

You jumped, and if it weren't for Rumble’s arm wrapping around you and almost crushing you into his open chest you may have jostled the sensitive chamber even further. You slid your hand back again, easing off of the reinforced glass, and his grip receded.

“What the hell was that? And what was that clang?”

“I said don't worry ‘bout it!” He hissed, voice glitchy with static. “Everythin’s totally normal, I dunno why you're getting all jumpy ‘bout- MMNGH?!” You moved your hand up again into the same position, and Rumble let out an embarrassingly high whimper. You glanced up at his face, a flush of pink behind the usual grey and beading with coolant… and something clicked.

“Oh my God are you getting off on this?”

“N-No!”

Behind you you heard a sharp snikt, and the sound of pressurizing hydraulics.

“...Maybe?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“H-Hey, don't go gettin’ a big head or nothin’! A bot’s spark chamber is sensitive! Don't go thinkin’ this is cause of your squishy frame or your soft little digits or nothin’!” He seemed to almost shrink in on himself, face plate practically glowing as his shoulders pulled up around his helm. You'd never say it to his face, but he looked surprisingly… small, at this moment. You heaved an exhausted sigh.

“Okay. Okay. I'm going to get this last piece out, alright? It's the last one. And whatever happens while I'm doing that..? It just happens. We won't bring it up again, no need to be embarrassed. Deal?”

“‘Deal?!?’” He squawked, positively scandalized. “How do I know yer not gonna gossip with Frenz’ the next time he's in for a tune-up?”

“Well Frenzy usually never lets me get a word in edgewise, first of all.” You huffed. This was way more than you'd signed up for. “I'm not going to make fun of you, Rumble. Let’s just get you patched up, then you can head home. Okay?”

His mouth was pulled into a tight, wobbly frown as he glanced down at you, choking out a single word. “...Promise?”

“I promise.”

“...Slag. alright, let's get dis over with.” He lolled his head back against the table with a clank, resigning himself to his fate. This time, when your knuckles brushed his spark casing, he couldn’t stifle his soft moan. Your fingers felt further and further up, until almost your entire hand was behind the glass bubble containing his pulsing spark. Finally, you could feel the jagged piece of metal. You wrapped your fingers around it and gave it an experimental tug. It stuck fast, and your hand bumping against Rumble's spark only pulled another surprised moan from him.

“W-Watch it!” He yelped, sounding too fucked-out to come across as actually threatening.

“It's really stuck in there. I'm going to start working it out, so let me know if you need me to stop.”

“Wh… workin’ it out? Whadda ya- ohhh…~” 

With your thumb and forefinger gripping the edge of the broken metal, you began to wiggle it gently back and forth to ease it from the plating and wires around it. Each time you moved the back of your hand rubbed up against the far side of his spark chamber, warmth radiating through your glove as Rumble started to vent more harshly.

“Slag… slag! Don't think it's ever been touched back there before. Feels… feels crazy.” He moaned. The metal of your work table shrieked and crumpled like cardboard under his iron grip, desperate to keep his servos off of himself or, Primus forbid, you. The piece stuck firm, and as you braced your other hand against the outside paneling of his chest to readjust your balance he let out a sharp, staticky yelp. “S-STOP!”

You froze immediately. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

A few shuddering vents were your only response for a moment, Rumble’s visor lights flickering frantically as he tried to steady himself. “Whooo… Almost blew my top for a second there.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Yer the one that told me to tell ya if I need ya to stop! I'll be slagged to the Pit before I let some ‘squishy’ run my charge like dat.”

“...Can I start again? I’m making some progress here.”

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Yer good.”

You let out another soft sigh, trying to focus on the rhythmic sktch sktch sktch of metal on metal rather than Rumble’s shivering whines. His vocalizer pitched and warbled with static, attempts to stifle his own words slowly giving way to a deluge of fucked-out babbles.

“Ah! Gh! Ohh, mmnh, stupid little hands feelin’ all- nnh!~ Jus’ get it outta there! Please?”

I’m working on it. You’re doing good, just hang in there.” Your placations only resulted in another desperate moan. After what couldn’t have been more than another thirty seconds or so, he blurted out again.

“Ah! Stop!”

You retracted your hand for a moment, letting Rumble gasp for breath above you in a futile attempt to cool his core. You rubbed at his chest paneling as he shivered beneath you hard enough that you thought bolts were going to start coming undone. Even the paneling you were seated upon was burning up, heat seeping through the fabric of your coveralls. His glowing face plate was slick with coolant. Without thinking, you reached up and swept away a bead of it with your thumb, making him jump.

“H-Hey, quit dat…” He groaned, all bite lost from his tone.

“Rumble… The more you keep stopping me the longer this is going to take.”

“You think I don’t know dat?!” One of his arms draped dramatically over his face. “I’m tryin’! But you just keep pokin’ around in there and it’s all touchy and it’s makin’ me feel like my spike’s gonna burst and I can’t take it anymore!” He sniffled. Could Cybertronians even sniffle? You weren’t sure, but he sounded close to tears.

“Rumble… Have you ever actually edged yourself before?”

“Whu- Whuh? How’s dat any of yer business?”

“I’m just thinking…” You ran a placating hand down his shivering plating. “If you haven’t it can be really overwhelming, and-”

“I can handle it! I-I can!”

“Let me finish. It can be really overwhelming, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. Just… take a deep breath for me, okay?” You took a slow, steadying breath, and after a second he mimicked it. “Good. Just think about letting go, okay? I’m not going to judge you. Just think about it.”

He let out a low, pitying grumble, peeking at you from behind his arm plating. “...You can start again.”

Once again, your hands dipped into his chest cavity. Only this time you slid both hands up behind his spark casing, gripping as much of the broken metal as you could reach. As you rocked it back and forth Rumble’s moans returned with a fervor, one servo finally flying to cup your lower back.

“Ah! Ah! Slag, oh slag please! Please don’t stop I’m so fraggin’ close.” He fisted the back of your uniform, crumpling the cheap fabric between his digits. “C’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon I need it!”

“Shh, I’ve got you baby. Just let it happen.”

With a metallic shriek and a gush of brackish oil the shrapnel popped free, the force enough to send you sprawling if not for Rumble’s servo in the small of your back. Of course, said unexpected force also slammed the backs of both your hands right into the underside of his spark chamber, and Rumble’s voice box screeched into a wail of radio static. Something hot and sticky splattered up the back of your coveralls; said something you decidedly were not going to look at until later. His frame rattled and shivered beneath you, steam venting and joints glitching and spark pulsating a near-blinding glow.  Finally, after a burst of noise and sparks and twitching, he went slack beneath you, helm clanking against the workbench as his optics flickered.

As delicately as you could, you removed the oil-slick shrapnel and let it clatter onto the floor before shedding your gloves and dabbing at his face plate with the cuff of your sleeve. With the whir of an old monitor blipping back to life, his visor blinked back up to its standard brightness.

“Whuh… Wheh?” He garbled.

“How you feeling, hun?”

“Like I got struck by lightnin’... but in like a nasty way.”

You choked back a snort. “Well, I’ve got all the worst of it over with. Feel free to rest for a while if you need it. I’m gonna go change my jumpsuit.” 

He let you slide off his lap without a fight, not even commenting until you’d turned around to make your way over to your office. Only then did he let out a low, salacious whistle when he’d finally caught sight of the back of your uniform.

“Comm me next time yer free, doc. Then I can repay da favor.”

[chaussetteblanche]

Training with Luke

pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader summary : the evolution of luke training you with a sword word count : 1.3k warnings : none

When you had agreed to Luke trying to teach you how to use a sword, this wasn't what you had been expecting at all. You'd warned him about your inability. Many before him had tried to teach you, but you had never managed to even swing the weapon properly. You had come to the conclusion that swords were your mortal enemy and that you would for sure die at the hand of one.

"Pshh, I don't believe that for one second, you just haven't found the right teacher, doll." Luke had scoffed one sunny afternoon, after you'd confided in him your inability to wield his favourite weapon. You rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder. "Careful, I think your ego may be inflating." He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, no, but come on, I'm serious." Luke turned to you, angling his head to the side and giving you a soft smile. "Please let me try to teach you. I won't promise anything, you certainly won't be able to beat me, but maybe you can learn the basics without cutting a finger off." You pursed your lips as you thought. After weighing the pros and cons, you finally conceded with a sigh. "Fine, you and your modesty have convinced me." He rolled his eyes. You continued. "But you have to promise to go easy on me." "I promise, pretty girl."

And that is how you found yourself all geared up and very groggy on this Saturday morning. You wiped some of the sleep out of your eyes and yawned once again. The sun was just starting to rise, casting a golden glow on the arena you both stood in. Luke, who stood a few meters away from you, crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why are you so tired anyway?" "Because... I don't know if you remember, but there was a party last night and I-" "Oh, yes, I remember very well. You and Clarisse were on fire, dancing and singing, or should I say shrieking, and pouring everybody more drinks." He chuckled as he remembered the night before, which had only been a few hours ago. He'd been there, of course, he always came to parties, but he'd barely drank anything and had left pretty early. Unlike you. He had claimed he had to train in the morning, and you hadn't realised that had included you until this morning, when he'd come to wake you up. "How dare you. I'll have you know that some Apollo kids have asked me if I'm really sure that I am not one of them, considering my musical talents are extraordinary." You lied, feigning offence. "Yeah, right, that's likely." He snorted. "Anyway, enough chit-chat, get into stance."

You did as you were told, placing one foot ahead and the angling the other slightly outward. Luke circled you, eyes trained to your body. He gently tapped your shoulders, reminding you to keep them straight. You moved them immediately. "Good girl," he praised. You bit back a smile, your stomach flipping.

"Okay, now I'm going to come at you, okay? I'll go easy on you, just like you asked," he smirked. You rolled your eyes at his words, which you knew had an underlying meaning. "Just do it, Castellan." You readied yourself. He nodded once and bolted forward. Before you could register anything or react, you were on the ground with Luke's sword at your neck and a dull pain in your ass. You coughed as dust raised around you. "You know you're supposed to block, right?" he asked, lifting his sword and moving the blade out of your way. He held out his hand, chuckling. "You ass." You took his hand and let him help you up. You rubbed your bum with your free hand. "That was not going easy on me!" "You have to trust me, I really was. If I hadn't I would have done this." Before you could even reply, Luke had kicked your legs out from beneath you and lightly kneeled over your chest, making sure not to hurt you. "I hate you," you spat. "Get off me." You pushed at his legs and sat up. You knew your cheeks were red and you hated yourself for it. You pouted as you looked up at him.

"You see? It's no use. I'm no good with a sword and you can't change that." You folded your arms over your chest, very aware that you probably looked like a disgruntled child. "Darling, don't give up just yet." Luke gently pulled you up by the elbow and picked your sword up off the ground. He wiped some dirt off your cheek. "I'm sorry, that was mean. But don't give up yet! We can still try offence!" You huffed as you took your sword. "Fine. But stop calling me pet names." You didn't actually want him to stop, but if you wanted to take this seriously, he had to stop distracting you.

"If you manage to beat me, I'll stop," he bargained. "That's hardly fair," you sighed as you got into stance and raised your sword. He only shrugged. "C'mon, hit me with your best shot."

Over the weeks, you surprisingly got better at fighting with a sword. You stopped only using your customary bow and arrow and started carrying around a sword, much to the surprise of everyone who knew you. Training with Luke had not only made you better, it had also brought you two closer together. You'd been good friends since you'd arrived at camp, a few months after he did, but you had never spent as much time together as you did now. And such proximity made you question what you felt for him.

You met him one afternoon for training, feeling frustrated. Since you'd got up that morning, everything had gone awry. You'd got assigned shitty chores, had had to break up a fight between two new campers and in the midst had suffered a bird attack. Needless to say, you were looking forward to releasing some anger. But Luke was acting strange.

"Quit going easy on me," you grumbled as you helped him to his feet after knocking him to the ground for the third time. "I'm not going easy on you." He shook his head, frowning slightly. "Yes, you are. Stop it." You glared at him. "I'm not-" You lifted your sword and kicked him in the chest. He didn't even block and fell over once more. You'd never seen his camp shirt so covered in dirt.

"Stop bullshitting me, Castellan." You raised your sword and pointed the blade at his throat. "Okay, okay, fine, I'll stop," he grumbled. He rolled his eyes and pushed your blade away before lifting his hand for you to take. You slapped his hand with the flat of your blade and pointed your sword back at his neck. He frowned. "You're not getting away that easy." "Hey, doll, c'mon-" "No." He sighed and threw his head back, exposing his neck and the coloured beads hanging from it. Your eyes were drawn to his soft exposed skin but your focused again, clearing your throat. "Come on, get up. By yourself." "You asked for it."

He swung his legs across your ankles, making you yelp and fall to the ground. And before you could reach for your sword which had slipped out of your grasp, he had pinned you down by the wrists. "Am I going easy on ya now, darling?" You grimaced and squirmed but the hold he had on your wrists would not budge. And with him straddling your hips, you couldn't move your legs. You looked up at him and saw the coloured beads you knew so well swinging above your face. You swallowed. "No, you're not." "Are you happy?" "I'll be happy when you stop being such a smug ass, Castellan." His laughter was music to your ears.

[feyascorner]

okay first of all i ADORE ur writing… wanna take a bite out of it..

anyway… uh… can i uhh… order a uhh…. astarion x tav.. and like..tav has a fucking insane pain tolerance and always has.. and like… uhh… one time she gets fucking TOTALED in a fight and like obvi it would hurt… and shes like crying subconsciously.. and when some1 points it out shes like “what???? why am i crying wtf???” and like looks down and is just fucking BLEEDING… n then.. astarion comfort…

only if u want thoo!!!!

a/n. Im like the exact opposite I'm very dramatic about the slightest pain but this is such a cute request so Ty!! ALSO PLS EXCUSE IF THIS IS A LITTLE CLUNKY I HAD TO TYPE THIS OUT W MY FINGERS🫠🫠

Astarion is grateful for your tolerance to pain.

Of course, he doesn't particularly enjoy watching you in pain, but he’s no fool. He knows the sting and the soreness that comes after he drinks from your neck. Well, at least, it should sting. However, it never seemed to bother you, and for that, he's forever grateful for it.

These strange sentiments expand past his thirst for blood, as the relief he feels when you’re battered up after a battle and you smile at him as if nothing’s wrong is incomparable to any other feeling he’s felt.

That relief does not come currently, however.

The battle was nearly hopeless. Overwhelmed in number, mages casting counterspell, fighters constantly aiming at you…he’s lost track of it all. By some miracle you and your companions stand victorious, and when he sees that you offer Karlach a lopsided smile, confirming that you're fine, he reaches to pick up one of his daggers.

“Tav—what in the hells, are you okay?”

It’s then that he spots the way your lip quivers and tears glisten threateningly at your eyes. And when you meet his own, they begin to drip down your cheeks like crystals and roll off your chin. He's seen you in tears before, but out of something more positive—not from pain. Before he can even tell what he's doing, he's rushing toward you.

“Why are you—” he sees the blood seeping from your stomach, and his face would've gone pale if he could.

You finally lift your hands to your face, eyes wide when your fingertips brush against the dampness of your cheeks. “Oh. Why am I?…”

Shadowheart scrambles to scrimmage around her bag. “Here, let me—gods, where did I—did we use all the healing potions?—”

“Oh for hells sake. Because you're bleeding!” Astarion hisses, his hand intertwining with yours as he drags you toward the nearest tree where he sits you down. He freezes when you flinch but you shake your head, wiping at your eyes. Your other companions are still searching the enemy corpses for anything that might relieve you of the pain, but they're taking far too long for his liking.

“I’m okay, it doesn't really hurt that much.”

“You’re crying.”

“I didn't even know I was-” you wince.

His eyes narrow. “Lay down.”

“What? No, I’m really fine!”

“Gods, love, please for once, listen to me. It’s quite straining to watch you clamber around with that ghastly wound on your stomach.”

You frown, but he guides you down anyway, careful to lay down your head against the grass. “Now wait patiently. Maybe if we’re lucky, our dear friends will find a potion before I start developing wrinkles.”

A momentary silence hangs in the air. It’s by no means uncomfortable, but there are words on the tip of his tongue he wishes to say. And when he notices you staring, he sighs.

“If you're hurt, tell us. I don't care how high your pain tolerance is—if you're hurt, call us. Call me. Don't be a fool and bleed out over a few enemies when we’ve been through so much worse.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost embarrassing. But with the way you're watching him so seriously, he can't bring himself to dwell on such irrelevant factors.

Then, you smile again, as if you've forgotten about the pain. “How minor can the pain be for me to call you?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Can I call you when I stub a toe?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I will.”

He stares at you with lidded eyes and you laugh. He feels the weight on his shoulders get a bit lighter.

“You may call for me whenever you wish.”

[meo-eiru]

*cracks knuckles* here I am again. this time with Micah as my victim

so at first,

you definitely should add some more story to him. so far, if I'm being honest, he feels a bit too plain to me. but oh boy, what a potential I see here!

alright lets begin

omg look at him! such a hypocrite! how smart it is, to put all blame on MC while being just as (actually even more) sinful. and he sure hides well; it's your fault, isn't it? oh you and your sinful mind.

buut despite him not really being my cup of tea, I still do like a good old concept of ugly insides, hidden behind a beautiful shell (if that's the vibe you were going for).

Micah seems so pure, so holy, almost like an angel (you played smart by adding a lot of white in his design) – but behind that pristine facade? he's ugly. and that shell eventually starts to crack, because no matter how pure he may seem, Micah is just as human as we are, and definitely not a good one. and what are we, if not a bunch of cruel, egotistical animals? and deep inside he's exactly that, sickeningly human. with that in mind the very first comic you did abt him is actually pretty hilarious to me. your desires? what about his desires, which are strong enough to ruin your whole life?

I kinda feel like he's also a little pathetic in his own way; if he can't make you fall for him, he will break you. isn't it like a very cowardly move? he wants you badly enough to use whatever method it may require to have you, but will never admit it.

but let's talk about that strange desire to destroy MC's purity. why? to make you just as dirty as he is? cute, but doesn't seem like a full explanation to me. he's a priest, right? and even despite those dark insides of his, I feel like Micah still kept at least some of the priest mindset. I mean, they're raised and taught with a very strict discipline. so I feel like deep down, he feels bad (not ashamed, but in a "how dare they" way) for his attraction to you, and punishes you for that attraction. it's not your fault, of course, but who cares? you managed to destroy his perfect, clean facade, which he was methodically building for his whole life with simply your existence. isn't that unfair? so now you must fall into the depths of hell with him.

I like how we can't justify him. Micah is perfectly aware of what he is doing. and of twisted nature of his feelings too, I think, yet still chooses to indulge in his desires, even if it hurts you, the person he was supposed to love and cherish. he makes me feel an absolute, poetic rage, and I love a character I can hate. (don't get me wrong, it meant to be a praise)

and I absolutely adore his design. also if I was on point with the idea you meant for him, that is wonderful too. if a character makes me feel something, I like that character. but girl, you really should add more details about him. because everything I've written here is, basically, just my own brainstorming and bare theories. Micah needs to have more meat on him for a full character analysis >_>

but anyway, I actually have a question.

what if MC wasn't in any way pure? what if they're a complete opposite of that word? count it on my love for hunchback of notre dame

unlike the nun MC, I suggest a MC who fully embraces their sins. like an evil succubus, they enjoy the joys of being tainted. they know what influence they have on their dear Father Micah, and isn't ashamed of that. I feel like that would make a pretty interesting story

(cough cough draw him blushing and moaning and my life is yours darling)

Another absolutely incredible ask I'll have a field day answering.

I do agree with him being a bit under developed at the moment. Micah was a bit unfortunate as in he was never meant to be an actual character. He was just a momentary creation who existed for me to study color theory. A beautiful man of flowers who didn't have an identity.

Then he joined the cast when I was busy with working on commissions and the 5k celebration comic so I didn't have the time to draw his introduction comic with the things I had planned for him, though I've been trying my best to explore him a bit more thru asks like this one. The fact that I don't want to spoil the stuff I'll draw in his comic is also holding me back a little.

I think Micah is evil, but not completely bad. A man who was born twisted, who was raised into goodness, and even with all the love he received never truly got rid of his inner darkness, but just once, just for one moment, I think he had good in his heart. And that is when he first saw you.

With all his twistedness, all his evilness, all his darkness, I think that love he felt for you was truly pure. Because in his eyes you appeared truly beautiful, like a pure lily.

But Micah isn't a pure man, neither does he want to be. So he prefers to pull you down to his level, so that you two can be sinful together. A truly impure way of feeling that pure and innocent love.

I have gotten asks about him with a more rowdy darling, one who isn't a nun or one who is more sinful. I've been really brainstorming about it but I don't think it would work. Not because I personally can't force the story into being like that but because I think it was just not meant to be like that.

You see I do come up with the characters, but I don't control their actions. If the character is unwilling I can't shape the story to my will. Because that story is their life and they control it. The best I can do is to try to fill the gaps I can.

I might prefer submissive yanderes, I might want Micah to have a more sinful darling instead but it wouldn't be Micah's story anymore. That's one of the reasons why he's so different from the rest of the boys. I'm not super into very dominant guys, I could probably count the ones I have with one hand, it wasn't my intention for Micah to be the way he is, but I don't think he could've been any other way.

Micah was just meant to be manipulative, a gaslighter, a dirty man who'll pull anything to push you below him.

I guess me looking at my stories from an actual novel or manga perspective also contributes to this. Father Micah exists to shine with a darling who he can soil.

Now the darling can maybe go against him in the future, she might rebel or give in to his sinful ways, but that's a different story.

[sanarsi]

Kinktober Day 3

Monsterfucking

monster!Oberyn Martell x f!Reader

Gif credits @pedrorascal

Summary: Your poison lessons with Oberyn went wrong when he accidentally drank the wrong potion. Warnings: +18, MDNI, monster fucking, unprotected PIV, dubcon, rough sex, dirty talk, possessed!Oberyn, insults Wordcount: 1,1k An: Oh god… this is my first time writing something like this. I have no idea if i even managed to portray the monster fucking well (just kill me ok). Today I just wanted to thank the people who read all my works on an ongoing basis (I see u @amyispxnk) and let you know that, YES, I see all the comments and reblogs, BUT I'm busy gettin ready for vacation, so I don't even have time to go on tumblr. I promise I'll answer everything when I'm at home, under the covers and with a warm cup of tea. So lots of kisses and hugs to the people who comment on my works. I love you xx

Masterlist and Kinktober Masterlist

You were prepared for a lot in life, meticulously improved your skills in every field.

History, magic and... potions.

Thanks to your skills, you were given the honor of personal lessons with the Prince of Dorne. In the old, dirty and forgotten basements of the castle, where there were only you, old books and thousands of glass vials filled with deadly substances.

When you look at it from a third-person perspective, it sounded like a guaranteed tragedy. And that's exactly what it was.

After a few hours, tiredness took over your senses, which in the circumstances you were in, was simply unacceptable.

No one in their right mind would continue such dangerous activities, feeling even the slightest dizziness from the lack of fresh air and sun. And yet, you two forgot yourselves, too caught up in your studies and how much fun you were having.

Because, it had to be admitted, there had been unspoken words between you for a long time and you took advantage of every moment together.

This is what led you to the situation you find yourself in.

Tragedy.

Even the two of you, some of the best scholars in the kingdom, couldn't have predicted that someone had mislabeled the vials. Such a small mistake had large and terrible consequences. And you became the only witness who, unfortunately for you, experienced the effects of a potion of unknown origin on your skin.

On your skin, or rather, in you.

“Stay still.” Another loud growl bounced off the walls.

You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back a tearful moan. His body pressed you hard against the table as he tried to push deeper into you. Your body, however, was not used to such sudden and hard penetration.

You were shaking, trying to get used to the size of his cock, which had plunged into you just as unexpectedly as this whole situation had started.

You couldn't even fully process what was happening. His eyes went black in a split second, casting a terrifying darkness within him. A darkness that turned him into a mindless beast that longed to sink its teeth into the closest living creature - you.

“Why do you have to be so tight,” he gasped against your ear and thrust his hips hard again, pushing deeper into you. “I want all of you.”

Your pussy was throbbing with pain and wild pleasure you had never known before. And even though the prince wasn't himself right now, this was what you had dreamed of since the day you met him; for him to sink into you and make you forget about everything.

You moaned loudly, gripping the edges of the table tighter as it creaked with every movement. Your eyes misted over each time his tip dug into your cervix.

“Oberyn, please,” you sobbed.

You received a raspy laugh in response that didn’t sound like him at all.

“Pathetic little girl, you really think your prince is with us now?”

You shivered at the sound of his voice, strangely distant and deep.

He dug his fingers deeper into your hips, finally pushing himself all the way inside you. An animalistic groan escaped his throat as he could feel how wet and tight you were all over his cock, clenching around him over and over again.

You barely had time to catch your breath as his hot breath fanned your neck and another dark laugh reached your ears.

“So what are you?”

Your question hung unanswered as he busied himself with inhaling your scent and licking your skin. You were overwhelmed by the closeness he was taking over you, everywhere, on every side. There was only him.

“I am everything he wants to be.”

He slowly pulled his hips back, allowing you to feel every inch of his manhood. You shivered, desire to have him inside of you again overwhelm your senses.

He didn't let your dreams wait long to come true.

He thrust into you, the force making both of you shudder. The feeling of bliss was so great that it took over him almost immediately as his hips slammed against yours.

Without thinking, he began to fuck you. Hard. Not allowing you to think. All you could focus on was how the pleasure and pain mingled into an addictive feeling that was building in your core.

“Do you know how long he’s wanted to feel your cunt?” he asked, breathing heavily from the pace he set for himself. “Gods, how could he hold back for so long?”

He shook his head in disbelief, a wild glint passing through his black eyes as he stared at your pathetic form, moaning in adoration. He thrust into you harder, making you cry out. A pleased smirk appeared on his face before he leaned in close to you again.

“I’ve had you for a few minutes and already want to keep you.” His breath fanned your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Forever sinking into your wet, warm flesh,” he purred.

“Yes, please,” you gasped, overwhelmed by how good it felt to have him inside you, against you, on you. He was pleased with how drunk you were.

“Give me your orgasm, little mortal.”

His cock stimulated everything it needed, to bring you closer to your desired fulfillment. You had no idea if it was because of the demon that had taken control of him, or the fact that it was in his body and you could finally feel what it was like to have him inside you.

Oberyn thrust into you recklessly, as if that was all he was made for. Your increasingly loud moans only fueled him. He wanted more. More of you, your heavenly core, and your animalistic sounds.

“Show me what pleasure I give you,” he whispered, running his nose along your neck, where he sank his teeth a moment later.

He did it so hard, that the piercing pain went straight between your legs, and the orgasm shook your body. You screamed in euphoria, pulsating on him so hard that he had to pull out of you so he wouldn't come.

“I love the orgasms of sluts like you,” he laughed mockingly, and when he let you experience your fulfillment, he thrust into you again.

You sobbed, overwhelmed by the intense feelings you had just experienced. The shadow of your coming still wandered over your body when he started fucking you again.

“Oh yes, even wetter and more sensitive,” he said with satisfaction as he listened to your helpless moans. “Don't worry, we're just gettin’ started.”

Tags: @mattmurdocksdumpy @milly-louise @rosi3ba3z @candlelover @gothcsz @tateypots @chloe302225 @natalieispunk @amyispxnk @mandoloriancookie @libre-sol @alex-does-art-things @xxchumanixx @ch3rryyyyyyyyyy @bbyanarchist @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 and @iamasaddie bc I know u love oberyn

[wolverigrl]

Moments of Desire

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: I may have rushed this one a bit, because I'm reeeally tired right now. I thought I'd have more time today, but unfortunately not. I hope you still like this one!

Warnings: smut, oral m!receiving, unprotected pinv (wrap it up!), light spanking, pet names (baby etc.)

Enjoy!

Not proofread!

Previous part

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

The late afternoon sunlight filters in through the half-drawn curtains, casting a soft glow around the room. Hugh is sprawled comfortably in his favorite armchair, legs spread slightly, his posture relaxed but commanding. He's watching me with that familiar, playful glint in his eyes that always makes my stomach flip.

I'm sitting across from him on the sofa, my legs tucked under me, a pillow hugged to my chest.

"So, when do you think we should start telling people?"

I ask, my voice bubbling with excitement. Even saying the words feels surreal. I can't believe it.

I'm pregnant - we are pregnant.

Hugh smiles, that irresistible, easy grin spreading across his face. He looks so at peace, so happy, and it makes my heart swell.

"I've been thinking about that." he says, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

"We can't just blurt it out over dinner, you know? This is big! Huge! It's our baby, and I want everyone to remember how we told them."

I nod, biting my lip as I imagine it.

"You're right. It has to be special. But how?" I lean forward, resting my chin on my hand, thinking.

"We could throw a little get-together, invite our close friends and family and do big reveal. Maybe a cake or something?"

Hugh chuckles, shaking his head, his

voice warm with amusement. "A cake? I don't know if that's us." He shifts in his seat, drumming his fingers lightly on the armrest. "Feels too... formal. I want something more...personal. Something just for us and the people we love."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Okay, Mr. Creative, what's your big idea?"

He grins wider, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this. "What if

we visit everyone in person? One by one. That way, it's more intimate. No big groups, just face-to-face moments with the people who matter most to us."

I tilt my head, thinking it over. "That could work... but what would we do? Just knock on the door and say 'Hey, guess what?'.. It deels a little..anticlimactic."

Hugh's eyes light up like he's thought of something brilliant. "No, no! We take a picture with them. Every single person, we gather them together for a photo, right? And just when everyone's ready to say 'cheese', we drop the bomb: 'y/n's pregnant!"

I burst out laughing, picturing the stunned faces of our friends and family when we spring the news on them like that.

"Oh my God, baby! That's perfect! Can you imagine the looks we'll get? And we'll have it all captured on camera!"

He chuckles, his deep, rich voice

making my heart skip a beat.

"Exactly! That way, it's not just an announcement - it's a moment. A real memory we can keep forever."

I lean back, grinning from ear to ear, already imagining the reactions.

"I love it! I really do!" My eyes drift over

to him, and something shifts in the

air between us. The playfulness

fades into something deeper, more intense. He's watching me closely, his gaze lingering a little too long on my lips, then my legs.

"You always come up with the best

ideas." he says softly, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone that sends shivers down my spine. I feel a slow smile curve my lips, knowing exactly what that look means. "Oh yeah?" I tease, letting

my fingers absentmindedly trace the

seam of the pillow in my lap.

"Is that why you keep me around?"

He smirks, his eyes darkening a

shade as he leans forward slightly.

his posture shifting, more predatory

now. "Among other reasons."

His fingers start moving, tracing small,

lazy circles on the armrest of his chair. The movement is slow, deliberate, and for some reason incredibly sensual. His middle and ring finger glide over the fabric in a rhythm that's almost hypnotic. And as if on cue, he spreads his legs just a little more, his posture relaxing even further.

Casual, but undeniably suggestive.

My breath catches in my throat, my body responding to him almost instantly.

God, he knows exactly what he's doing. The way he looks at me, the way his fingers move in those subtle, teasing circles. It's like he's turning me on without ever touching me.

"You're really distracting me."

I murmur, my voice quieter now, more

breathless than I intended. Hugh's eyes flick up to meet mine, and there's something molten in hisgaze.

"Am I?" he asks, voice rough and full of heat. His lips curl into a smirk, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on me.

"I'm not even doing anything."

I swallow hard, feeling my pulse quicken.

"That's the problem." I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from the way his fingers move.

They're still drawing those maddening circles, slow and steady.

Every time he completes one, a fresh wave of heat pools low in my belly.

He doesn't break eye contact, his gaze locking onto mine as he leans back again, making himself even more comfortable. "You're the one who's making it hard to

concentrate." he says, voice soft but dripping with desire.

I shift in my seat, feeling the tension

Between us coil tighter, the air in the room practically crackling with it.

"Is that right?"

I stand up slowly, my heart racing as I walk toward him, feeling the heat between us intensify. Hugh's eyes follow my every move, dark with need, as I approach. His legs spread just a little wider, and I can feel the tension in the air-thick with anticipation.

I move closer, standing between his

legs, feeling the magnetic pull that always seems to draw me to him.

My fingers trail lightly over his broad shoulders, tracing the firm muscles under my touch. I can feel his body tense as I lean down, pressing soft kisses to his neck, tasting his skin.

His scent, warm and familiar, fills my senses, making my pulse quicken.

A soft groan escapes his lips as I kiss along his neck, his breath becoming heavier. His hands move to my hips, pulling me closer to him, his grip firm and possessive.

I bite my lip as I kiss him again, lower this time, nipping at his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

Slowly, I drop to my knees between his legs, placing my hands on his thighs. Hugh's breath hitches, and I hear the sharp intake of air as I look up at him.

His eyes are locked on mine, filled with desire, his chest rising and falling a little faster now.

He leans back slightly, his hands

sliding into my hair, gently tugging

me toward him.

I press soft kisses along his inner

thigh, while opening his jeans with my hands.

His body tenses beneath me, his

hands tightening in my hair as he

groans softly, his hips shifting

impatiently. I smirk, enjoying the

way his body reacts to my teasing.

He lifts his hips slightly so that I can pull his jeans and boxers down to his ankles.

I slowly start stroking him and finally take him into my mouth moving slowly, savoring the feeling of him against my tongue.

His groans grow louder, his body trembling under my touch. I move my hand to the base of him, stroking in time with my mouth, and he lets out a deep, guttural sound while his hips jerk slightly forward.

"Fuck.." he moans, his voice thick with pleasure, his grip on my hair tightening as he guides me, pushing me deeper.

His breaths come in heavy, ragged bursts, filling the room alongside the wet, rhythmic sounds of my movements.

I hum softly, the vibration making him groan even louder, his hands shaking slightly in my hair.

"Just like that baby.." he breathes, his voice

strained as he tries to hold himself back.

"God, you're so good at this.."

His words send a thrill through me, and I move faster, taking him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I quicken

my pace. His hips lift off the chair

slightly, his groans becoming more

urgent.

The sound of his pleasure, the feeling of him in my mouth - it's all overwhelming, and I can feel my own need growing

But just as his body tenses on the verge of release, he pulls me up, his hands strong and commanding as he lifts me to my feet. His eyes are dark and wild, his breathing heavy as he stares up at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Strip." he growls, the single word heavy with desire

I obey without hesitation, my heart pounding in my chest as I peel off my clothes slowly, teasing him with every move.

His gaze never leaves me, following every inch of bare skin as it's revealed.

The intensity in his eyes makes my skin prickle with anticipation.

Once I'm fully naked, I straddle his lap again, feeling the heat of his body beneath me. His hands immediately grip my hips, guiding me as I sink down onto him, both of us moaning at the sensation. He fills me completely, and the sudden rush of pleasure makes me gasp, my fingers gripping his broad shoulders for support.

I begin to move slowly, rolling my hips against him, feeling the delicious friction as he presses deeper inside me.

His hands slide up my back, gripping me tightly as he thrusts up to meet my movements.

"You feel so fucking good ." he groans, his voice rough with desire.

I lean in, kissing along his neck, my lips brushing over his pulse point as I ride him faster now.

"You're so big.." I moan softly, my breath hot against his skin.

His hands move down to my ass, gripping me tightly as I grind down against him. Without warning, he brings one hand down hard, delivering a sharp smack to my ass.

The sudden sting makes me gasp, a mix of pleasure and pain shooting through me.

I moan louder, the sensation pushing me higher, my movements becoming more frantic. He smacks me again, harder this time, and I cry out, my nails digging into his

shoulders as I rock against him, the wet sounds of our bodies meeting filling the room.

"Keep going baby." he growls, his voice thick with lust, his hand coming down on me again, sending another wave of heat through me. The sharp smack makes my body tremble, my legs shaking as I ride him harder.

"Oh god Hugh.." I moan, my voice shaky as I feel the tension building inside me, ready to snap at any moment.

"I'm close.."

His hands grip me tighter, guiding me faster.

"Cum for me." he growls.

His voice commanding, full of raw need.

"I wanna feel you."

With one more hard thrust, I fall over the edge, my entire body trembling as the orgasm crashes through me. I cry out his name, my body shaking as the waves of pleasure wash over me, my legs quivering as I ride out the high.

Hugh isn't far behind.

With a low, primal groan, he thrusts up into me one last time, his hands gripping my

waist as he buries himself deep inside me, finding his release.

His head falls back, a deep moan escaping his lips as his body tenses beneath mine, both of us completely lost in the intensity of the moment.

The room is filled with the sound of our heavy breathing, the aftermath of our release still buzzing in the air.

I collapse against him, resting my forehead against his, both of us catching our breath as our bodies slowly come down from the high.

His hands move softly now, stroking my waist and back, his touch gentle and soothing.

We stay like that for a moment, our bodies still connected, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin as I run my hands through his hair.

There's a deep, lingering intimacy between us, as if we've just shared something beyond physical.

Our eyes meet, filled with love, and we don't need to say anything - the

connection between us says it all.

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

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