#honestly i gotta be honest with you the first thing i thought of when seeing your ask was

[whatudottu]

Do you ever wonder if there’s a market for mannequin/robot/life-sized doll bodies for Ectonurites who want to safely explore well-lit areas but don’t feel comfortable possessing living beings?

Oh that’s actually a pretty interesting idea!

What’s mostly been banging around in my head is that ectonurites have either a seasonal skin and grow a sunskin (like a winter coat but for higher UV seasons). Maybe perhaps they make like a reptile or snake and go into a shedding season but, their skin is a lot tougher and thicker than any Earth creature that until an ectonurite completely outgrows it (the telltale signs being ‘bursting from the seams’ rips and tears), it acts as a sun coat.

And like in either of these cases in the off-seasons where an ectonurite is shed, the most I really had going for sun protection was parasols and other clear sky umbrellas, which even in a world of possessable sunprotection would probably still be an ectonurite dominated market haha. Would sun-bodies (an attempt to amalgamate the mannequin/robot/doll to one term) be almost the extreme form of body modification or would it be like those regular rain umbrellas that have the extra see-through shawl to protect against side winds? Can you tell which generation an ectonurite is apart of based on what sun protection they use, parasols for the older generations and sun-bodies for the modern gen? Maybe some ectonurites can’t possess something for as long as others can, so despite wanting a sun-body they’re stuck with either parasols or just staying inside?

In other words, I didn’t think there was a market for it until you, dear anon, introduced the concept! And what a concept indeed. Haha, and ectonurites are probably already the most freeform aliens you can make a unique character out of, adding the idea of sun-bodies makes designing them all the more versatile.

I’d say it’d also depend on the surrounding sun having community, because a self-animating doll may trigger an uncanny valley feeling in probably not just humans, but any species replicated in the design of the doll; even among ectonurites. It’s one thing to know what a ghost looks like, it’s another to define something as ‘wrong’ and fear it for its differences, so just with any xeno community only do what you want when you are assured you are safe!

[razorblade180]

Home Warfare

Ruby:*on call* …(Maybe he’s busy?)

Jaune:Hello?

Ruby:!? S-Sup! Just checking in. How was the flight back home?

Jaune:My stomach has stopped flipping. It’s the little victories that matter.

Ruby:I still can’t believe you went back home for break. Isn’t it your first time back since…lying?

Jaune:Yeah, but it’s not like they know that part. Plus I’ve kept in contact. You’re not going back to Patch?

Ruby:Yang did. Dad is actually taking a mission so if o went back I’m basically house sitting.

Jaune:You don’t want to see your old friends?

Ruby:I can do that when I pick up Yang. Making a big deal out of it feels awkward. Have you been smothered with affection yet?

Jaune:What do you mean?

Ruby:It must be a big deal continuing your families legacy; especially in your hometown.

Jaune:Probably, if I meant anything.

Ruby:Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?

Jaune:Just because I’m at Beacon doesn’t mean anything. Not like my grades are stellar or I’m a different person. Still the bullied twerp that left and the son with low expectations. I’m only really here because I have to come back eventually.

Ruby:….

Jaune:Ruby?

Ruby:I could’ve went with you.

Jaune:That’s nice, but why would you?

Ruby:Because you sound miserable! It’s not like I’m doing anything. I can’t do too much about people giving you a hard time but showing up with a new friend has to mean something.

Jaune:I gotta be honest…you being here would make this place bearable. I honestly forgot how…small it felt being here at times.

Ruby:Would you like me to be there? I can take an airship tomorrow, seriously.

Jaune:If it’s really okay, sure. I’d love to see you.

Ruby:Cool. I’ll be your moral support!

Jaune:Haha, thanks. Well I have to go. Dinner is almost ready. Wish me luck.

Ruby:Good luck! *hangs up*

Weiss:*walks in* Oh, you’re still here.

Ruby:It’s our dorm! Why wouldn’t I be!?

Weiss:What I meant is I thought you’d be running around doing anything but being a hermit. Even Blake took a trip.

Ruby:…Weiss? I have an offer you can’t refuse. One that involves the mall, your opinion, and freedom from me.

Weiss:Go on.

xxxxxxx

The next day, out in town

Papa Arc:So what exactly was your role in all that again?

Jaune:I came up with the plan against the DeathStalker.

Papa Arc:Can you really consider a couple callouts a plan? Especially when you didn’t lead the charge?

Mama Arc: Harold! Leave him alone! I think it’s great he’s trying.

Harold:Persephone, trying is one thing, achieving is another. Can’t have him getting full of himself.

Jaune:(Or having any confidence at all.)

Persephone: The year has only really just begun. There’s leaps and bounds a C-student like our boy can make given enough time and focus, hopefully.

Jaune:…

???:He’s actually a B-student thanks to me.

Jaune’s head perked up. He recognized that voice anywhere. He turned around to greet Ruby but was left speechless the moment his eyes found her.

Combat boots were abandoned for red flats. The leggings he had known her for were abandoned for black thigh-highs with rose petals on them. The combat skirt had been stolen and replaced with black jean shorts with a red belt while her corset was swapped for a half shirt with long sleeves that went just past her hands. Jaune might not have recognized Ruby if not for the cloak!

The girl’s hair was noticeably a little wavy and a rose clip kept her bangs out of her face which showed off a modest amount of dark eye shadow that matched new lipstick. It went with her black fingernail polish he noticed as she waved with her left while rolling her luggage over.

Jaune:R-Ruby?

Ruby:Hello~ fancy seeing you here. Although I do remember saying you’d be visiting your dear family. I guess these are your parents! Hi! He’s mentioned wonderful things about you.

Persephone:And not enough about you! Ruby, was it?

Ruby:Yep! Ruby Rose. Jaune’s actually the first person helpful person I met at Beacon; as well as my dorm neighbor. We’re always comparing notes and helping one another as leaders of our teams.

Harold:You’re also a leader of a team?

Ruby:R-W-B-Y. Team RWBY. Hehe, I know I probably don’t look that impressive but I promise you, I know my way around the battlefield.

Harold:…You said my son is B-student now.

Ruby:Mmhm. He has a better memory for history than I do so as token of appreciation, I helped him with Grimm anatomy and practical skills. Your son is quite a fast learner. You must be so proud.

Jaune:I-

Harold:Well he has his ups and downs but of course he has his merits.

Persephone:Anyways…what brings you all the from Beacon?

Ruby:There’s a weapons convention not too far from here. I’m a real nerd for this stuff. Figured I could use my break to stay a couple days and check the exhibit. Is the Arc family presenting any armor or swords?

Harold:You know our history.

Ruby:Of course. I know your son, and he’s quite proud of it the same way I’m proud of my mother and her accomplishments. It’s probably why we get along so well, besides him being raised well. Take it from me, there’s some real jerks that let linage go to their heads.

Persephone:Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing! Jaune! I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned her more!

Jaune:I said I was making friends who get me.

Persephone:Ruby? Is your inner room already booked? If not, you can gladly stay with us while you’re here.

Ruby and Jaune: What?

Persephone:It’s not a problem at all. We never get to meet Jaune’s friends and you must only make so much money while being students. We have plates to spare. Isn’t that right Harold?

Harold:Yes, I’m…curious to know more things about my son.

Ruby:Well…if you insist.

Persephone:Wonderful! We will set things up and take your stuff now. Jaune, show Ruby around the town.

With no more room to negotiate, Ruby gives her things to Jaune’s parents and watch them get far enough away before letting out a sigh. Coincidentally, he did the same.

Ruby:No offense to your parents, but I’m really impressed how nice you are. I heard a little bit of the conversation before I said anything. They’re…a real piece of work. They look like they mean well though.

Jaune:You aren’t wrong. Thanks for showing up when you did. By the way… what’s with the new look?

Ruby:It’s like I said, I’m good on the battlefield. I figured the best way to shut up your hometown enemies was to give them something to shut up about. I’m not one for fashion so i asked Weiss for help finding a look that fits me. Honestly I still think I look awkward.

Jaune:No you’re gorgeous! Like some cool goth badass that’s cu- cute.

Ruby:*red*…Hehe, well thank you. I might not look like it all the time but I really like first impressions. A few people have noticed me on the way in. Guess Weiss went a little too hard, but that works in our favor. I doubt people will pick on you as much.

Jaune:Honestly they might be jealous if they see you with me.

Ruby:Is that a problem?

Jaune:Absolutely not. It would be hilarious.

Ruby:Haha, then lead the way. Show me your old stomping grounds.

Any worries he had faded away instantly. Jaune happily took Ruby’s hand and began walking. The girl was stunned for a second before getting close enough to lean on the boy. Honestly, she could get used to this.

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Kara (Supergirl) with the Teen titans members- Kori (Starfire), Cyborg, Raven, Nightwing, Beast Boy. They're getting frozen yogurt as a group.

Kara: So, who's like the leader of the group?

Starfire: Nightwing.

Raven: Nightwing.

Beast Boy: Nightwing.

Cyborg: Yeah Nightwing.

Meanwhile Nightwing is filling his frozen yogurt cup, but looks around and dips his head in the spout to get strawberry fro-yo in his mouth directly.

Kara looks over at him performing this spectacle.

Kara: He's the designated leader?

Raven: Yeah, what's the issue?

Kara: He doesn't take a lot seriously. He's a goofball and he's, well over there.

The titans turn to see what Nightwing is doing. He stops and wipes his mouth. He sees his friends staring at him. He smiles nervously and waves then resumes filling his fro-yo cup.

Kori: He's not a goofball, he's just carefree when we're not in the middle of a high stressed mission.

Cyborg: Yeah Kori's right. I gotta be honest, him being so relaxed and also the leader is why we respect him. He doesn't take himself too seriously, but can compose himself and take charge.

Beast Boy: Dude, thought the same thing. He's been through some crazy adventures with Batman and is like a cooler version of him. When we first met him he tried to be the tough guy, but when he saw we weren't judging him he showed who he really is.

Nightwing proceeds to do the same spout mouth trick with the mint chocolate fro-yo as a worker taps her foot impatiently. Nightwing passes her a fifty dollar bill. She shrugs and gives him a thumbs up.

Starfire: He's very intelligent as well and he makes me laugh.

Raven finishing a spoonful of her fro-yo.

Raven: Thank God you didn't talk about the other things you like about him. I can't lose my lunch today. Oh and he treats for food a lot, so he's good at finances, that's another perk.

Kara: Raven, come on, that can't be it for you. Be blunt with me.

Raven: Honestly, the flaws I see from him make me appreciate him. He's been through a lot and keeps a smile on his face. He's humble and like Cyborg said can take charge when he needs to. He's been there for me when I was going through my own issues, never judged me...I even stopped shoving him away when he hugs me. He's neat.

Kara: I still think he's a goof, but that is sweet you think of him in such a positive light. Oh and Beast Boy is messing with the frozen yogurt machine now.

Raven pinches the bridge of her nose. She turns to see BB doing the same thing Nightwing did, but making a mess.

Nightwing: You have to open your mouth wider and don't move.

Beast Boy: Oh, thanks dude.

Kara shakes her head laughing.

Kara: You guys are odd but I like you guys.

Starfire: Aww thanks.

[microcosmicheart]

A Message from Your Secret Admirer

*rubs hands together evilly because I'm nosy*

1 2 3 4

Pile 1

- It’s taking Forever to get your cards! - This person could be methodical in their thought or way of speaking - They want this shit to stay a secret 😭 - I feel like once I get the message some of you may know exactly who it is.

Hey. I feel like some rest would do you good. Get enough and a lot of it. Need to see your pretty face again soon, happy and healthy. How’s that thing going? The one you didn't tell me about, but I heard second hand? I know you'll do great. Also, a bit of personal info: I’ve been a bit stunted when it comes to relationships, something I’m workin’ on. But I’m making a comeback, all thanks to you. I'll be asking you out sometime soon, I’ve just gotta talk to you first 😭. See ya later,

- This person thinks you are SO attractive literally all of you. The way you think, how you dress, your smile! They got it for you BAD

Pile 2

- Just turned on Candy Pop by TWICE 😭 Read the lyrics! - Keep hearing bubblegum? Like the word. Like they’re “gummy” or “chewy” - This is my LGBTQ+ pile - They are not shy at ALL

Hey! So you remember how you came to our group asking for advice on something? I say go against the grain! You’ve played it safe your whole life and quite frankly so have the people in our group. There’s nothing a little looking and leaping won't fix! I'm getting the sense that one of the things you admire about me is my courage to be me? Guess what, I see the same thing in you! I understand that this'll be a big step for you, and I’d like to tell you to take your sweet time! Also, if you ask me, I'll say yes ☺️. Love you,

- TWICE and ITZY (kpop groups) may be very important to this person  - They also may love bunnies/rabbits - You also could actually be interested in this person

Pile 3

- Lowkey by NIKI - This person drinks - This person WILL be asking you out soon 😭 - They aren’t even gonna ask for much but they’re willing to give you their all (be kind!)

You want it? I got it. You need me? I’m THERE. Honest to god I’m tryna love you the way you deserve. You know I can make it happen, whatever it is. I’m bein so forreal. You ma ONE. Like dis is it. I gotchu forreal just let me show you.

- They are ON IT. - Honestly I’m not even seeing this as a secret, but I don't think you're understanding the extent of this person's love, hence the message. - Y'all's cards are amazing 😭 Like they are real life in love with you I hear them going “I’m sayin corny shit like I feel COMPLETE 😭” - Your heart is safe with them fr, have fun 💕

Pile 4

Literally getting not a damn thing outta this person they probably don’t speak often let alone to you 😭

Hey Love. I see you're still doing your best recovering from that *curseword in another language*. I still find you quite beautiful. This isn't what I’ve come to say though. I ask simply that each day you grow more and more selfish. I’d love to see you obsessed with yourself. A compact in your hand and gloss on your lips, ignoring those you don't wish to speak to. I wish to see you shine authentically, should you choose to, of course. I know you’ve got it in you. Love,

- Awwww - Their energy is so gentle and calm  - You guys could work in healthcare - They’ve got a fatass crush on you and are 100% certain you aren't going to ever find out.

[socpens]

Please never play Garten of Banban again

i dont know if i will. i love looking at popular things, especially if they're related to horror, because i'm really curious about what it is that makes things accessible on a wider scale. after playing 4 garten of banbans i can say its not any deeper than bright and simplistic monsters appearing in youtube content kids & teens watch. if you look at feenaf, or baldi, there's more there than just their aesthetic, both in terms of gameplay/design and the reasons they exist in the first place.

i try hard to give games i stream the benefit of the doubt and not bad mouth them too much. i dont care about bad mouthing things, i think a lot of things suck and will voice that whenever i want, but doing it for hours in front of 1000+ people can easily snowball into a really putrid energy. so its partially because of that. but also because i know making anything is hard. so on stream i probably appear very charitable when playing these kinds of games but ill always give my honest opinion at the end.

and with garten of banban it was that with each iteration it becomes more and more clear that each game exists only to lead into the existence of another. in a way that, with each iteration, becomes more and more disengaging because of how obvious it is. im not gonna shit on people getting that bag, ride the wave if it comes you gotta pay the bills (also who tf is buying these games?? it aint kids, my laptop could barely run the game and they're just gonna watch markiplier play it), but after the 4th game ending exactly where i thought it would and greeting me with a screen telling me to buy not the 5th but the 6th garten of banban was just whatever straw i needed to just not even be curious anymore.

like in a way the games broke my curiosity, and ive always prided myself on going from being very cynical and negative towards anything popular in my early 20s to having some kind of curious optimism as i've gotten older. so for it to break that is honestly super sad but also a wild feat. the progression of the garten of banban games has made me more cynical about art as consumer product than any amount of call of duty games i think because of the audience, the scale & the rapidity of it all

anyway we'll see when 5 rolls around if apillabode meets choo choo charles maybe ill play it.

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here. 

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it. 

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!). 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :) 

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table. 

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.” 

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering. 

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it. 

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying. 

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height. 

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment. 

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head. 

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar. 

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself. 

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you. 

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems. 

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned. 

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift. 

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies. 

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two. 

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear. 

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.  

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!” 

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour. 

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill. 

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger. 

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all. 

Will be hard. 

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you. 

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you. 

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving. 

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide. 

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual. 

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow. 

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.” 

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too. 

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done. 

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target. 

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man. 

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening. 

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted. 

You are done waiting. 

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention. 

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours. 

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully. 

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table. 

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself. 

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie. 

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched. 

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.” 

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament. 

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning. 

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed. 

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.” 

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.” 

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?” 

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation. 

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks. 

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.” 

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets. 

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend. 

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door. 

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit. 

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances. 

There is a beat. 

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts. 

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him. 

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally. 

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz. 

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you. 

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently. 

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them. 

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to. 

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once. 

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him. 

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is. 

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion. 

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.” 

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all. 

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger. 

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.” 

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now. 

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor. 

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way. 

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go. 

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again. 

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose. 

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him. 

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.  

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?” 

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does. 

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you. 

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it. 

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it. 

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side. 

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical. 

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again? 

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.” 

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments. 

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.   

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good. 

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks. 

“I see you, baby.” 

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him. 

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark. 

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words. 

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand. 

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth. 

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in. 

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you. 

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?” 

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender. 

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago. 

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?” 

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly. 

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you. 

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are. 

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you. 

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well. 

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end. 

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could. 

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.  

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms. 

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer. 

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm.  You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises. 

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners. 

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now. 

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe. 

“I’m just gonna leave,”  he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying. 

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.  

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow. 

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him. 

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at. 

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words. 

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.” 

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are. 

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do. 

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly. 

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man. 

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion. 

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second. 

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him. 

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that. 

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet. 

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next. 

And the next. 

[suusoh]

mwehehehehehhhhhheheheh... ok .... so my submission would be...

“Oh, to be eaten alive by you?” Johan chuckles quite loudly. a genuine, sardonically genuine chuckle. “What a pleasant way to die.”

(This one was surprisingly softer than I expected lol. Hope you enjoy riribells! Thank you for sending the dialogue prompt!!)

(tw: cannibalism mention ofc lol, slight yandere? catholic joke at the end, other than that, nothing else surprisingly)

Of course.

Of course, those are the exact things that he would say tonight. Though you really should have known better, than to watch some show with him where cannibalism is the central point of the plot. This one's on you honestly.

"Can—" you take a deep breathe before you continue, "can we please just have one, one, peaceful movie night?"

Johan's sitting beside you on your sofa as both of you stay in for your annual friendly movie night, he's seated one space away from you, a small pillow acting as a barrier between you two. He always maintains that polite way of sitting when he comes over, like how one would sit when being a first time guest in a different home.

The only thing being that this is not in fact, his first time spending time with you here at your place. Numerous hang outs already happening within your humble abode, so maybe it's just your friend's general knack for good posture and deportment.

"Is there something wrong with what I've told you?"

He replies with a slight tilt to his head. You can't tell if it's from feigned or genuine confusion.

Your mouth just silently hangs open in a little 'o' shape. Thinking for a few seconds how you should even respond to that.

"Oh I don't know; the part where we're talking about cannibalism, the part where it's me specifically eating you, or the part where you find it a 'pleasant way to die' as you put it so nicely"

A small smile tugs on his lips.

He always smiles at you when seeing you react. Not in a way that's condescending (sometimes), but out of almost... genuine enjoyment. It didn't matter which approach you took.

Sarcastic or honest, nervous or nonchalant, bantering or silence. it was all the same to him: a front row view to you.

"I'm simply in topic. Are you telling me it's not normal, for people to discuss their thoughts and what they would do in the character's situation, while watching a show or movie?"

He's got you there you gotta admit. But still.

"Are we not even going to dissect your confession?"

"By all means." He nods.

His slight intrigue and the subtle excitement in his posture doesn't go unnoticed by you. You'll brush it off for now, another instance added to your growing personal collection of brushing off Johan's behaviour whenever he's acting kinda odd.

"...Actually, nevermind. I don't know where to begin with this. I'm just gonna not... talk... or think about it anymore."

You huff and lean back on the sofa again. His comment is out of pocket, sure, but you'll just let it go for now. Not really something worth making a big deal over. It's just another case of Johan being, well, Johan. And as he said, it's just harmless talk about what they're watching right now.

He watches you slump. He wants keep up this conversation, but he'll let you have your peace for now.

"Oh, alright then. Should I resume the show? We were— "

"— oh waaaaait wait wait wait a moment... did you say alive?"

You shoot up again. Eyes wide and brows furrowing. You know you look so cartoonishly shocked at him. You don't care. You are shocked. Why hide it?

"Hm, alive, yes. That's what I told you. Do you find this an issue?"

"You are alive in this theoretical cannibalism scenario with me. You are watching it unfold. You are breathing, you are conscious, you are awake, you are whatever else word similar with all those!"

Johan doesn't even move from his position. Still sitting and looking at you all politely. He is amused though.

"Should I not watch it all unfold? I'm sure it would be a pleasant sight..." his eyes look down and to the side as he revisits on some past thoughts. You see what almost looks like affection reflecting inside of it and you don't know how to feel about that. His eyes then return to you, holding his soft gaze with yours.

"I wouldn't mind. I'll even guide you through it."

"you'll... guide... me... through-"

you give up. You're done.

Exasperated groan leaving you as slump and deflate into the sofa . Mind too tired to fully talk about this right now. You grab the pillows near you and stack it around your head to aid in muffling out whatever word Johan says next.

You swear at this point, anything he says just gets progressively worse and worse. Baffling you more than cluing you in.

You enjoy the peace and darkness of your little soundproof world. There's bit of shifting on the sofa, then one by one, the pillows slowly move their way out of your face. He removes the last one, revealing you to the sight of Johan looking over you curiously.

"You know..." he puts the last pillow gently under the base of your head, "... all I'm saying is, just like the characters in the show, if there were truly no presence of food at all, absolutely nothing, and you were starving to the point of dying..."

He lightly pats your head.

"I think it would be a waste to not use my flesh for sustenance. There's nothing bad about it in the situation. Did you know that the people in the Andes mountain plane crash made a pact to their friends, that in the event one of them dies, they want their body to be consumed, in order for the others to keep on living?"

He smiles softly at that and something fills your chest with a slight warmth upon hearing his intentions. His explanation on the matter does make it seem a bit more pragmatic in a survival situation, not to mention it oddly has a sense of camaraderie to it.

"Well that's... very thoughtful of you then." You quirk a brow at him. Playful laugh almost bubbling out of your lips.

"Mhm. The reason I say 'alive'... well, I doubt you'd be able to do it without me instructing you. You'd be a blubbering crying mess while making all the wrong cuts, and I'd have bled out for nothing." He flicks your forehead.

"Hey!"

"Am I wrong?" he follows up by soothingly rubbing the spot where he flicked you.

"If just the mere thought of eating someone who willingly gives up their flesh for you to consume gets you this worried already... I wonder how you'll even be able to fare when you have to do the real thing."

You roll your eyes at him and swat his hand away.

"You're expecting me to act like that's the easiest thing on earth: eating the blood and body of a person you hold dear to you. I can't be normal about that, Johan!"

Johan can feel his finger twitch slightly. He stills himself impassive. How you effortlessly called him a person "dear" to you. Said with so little thought, and yet so undeniably genuine.

He thinks the notion odd, and nearly baseless. He's even sure at one point in his life he'd think you naive for that. But then again, he doesn't blame you. He does present himself as a friend to you... in fact, it's all he's ever been doing with you so far. Surprisingly. Also he did quite literally confess to letting you consume his flesh for your own benefit.

Not that he won't be getting his own benefits in that scenario.

With each bite you'll take, he gets to see parts of himself sustaining you, filling you, going inside of you and eventually being absorbed.

You'll swallow him, and he'd be so deeply ingrained by you at that point that you can't deny that he would be the blood running in your veins, he would be the branches in your lungs making you breathe, the ghost of him living within you, squeezing and squeezing your heart each second to pump it, as he lets you live another day.

He is inside of you;

mentally and physically.

Of course, the sight of you in tears and covered in his blood is just another adorably lovely cherry on top, but he won't tell you that. Saving all those intimate details for himself, preferably when he's alone.

...eating the blood and body of a person you hold dear. I can't be normal about that, Johan!

He chuckles softly. Patting your head again.

"Well, you obviously haven't seen Catholics. If they can do it, so can you."

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Three

Summary: You feel guilty about having a night out and hope to cover up your tracks as best you can Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 2.1k~ Warnings: Yändere, smut, explicit language pretty much it lol a/n: I hope you guys like it! I'm literally horrible at writing smut but I wanted to show another side to how things can be with him sometimes (I'm saying him because I'm not gonna spoil it when you can just read it lol) regardless hope this doesn't disappoint 🫢 Requested by @kkusadmirer 💜

"Girl who was that?" Rae asks, when she walk over to my side of the bar after Jungkook left. 

"His name is Jungkook and honestly I don't really know much about him. He caught me off guard and was asking me a bunch of questions that I didn't really think to ask him any" I say, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "You think he's cute don't you?" she asks taking note of my shyer demeanor while thinking about him. 

"He is attractive and dreamy but I'm married" I say flashing the ring at her in a similar fashion as I had done with Jungkook. "Dreamy? Really?" she teases, snorting at my description. "I'm sorry okay he's the first nice guy I've actually talked to in a while since my husband and I got married" I say, resting my elbows on the bar and throwing my face in my hands. 

"From what I heard, doesn't really sound like he's all that good of a husband" she says, not bothering to spare my feelings. "He's not that bad" I mumble, scarcely believing my words with every effort I put in to defend him.

"If you've gotta say it like that after only two people have said otherwise I don't really think you've got much going for you" she says setting a glass of water in front of me, already seeing signs of a need to stop drinking for the night.

"I mean, he's all I've ever known. He was my first serious boyfriend, my first everything if I'm being honest. We met in college and really hit it off and everything just felt right. After we graduated he asked me to marry him and it felt like a fairy tale ending you know?" I say, swirling around the ice in my cup in an effort to avoid her gaze.

"Sounds like it didn't turn out the way you thought it was going to though" she says, clearly feeling sorry for me. 

"Things between us are fine" I say sitting back up and clearing my throat before taking a drink of water to hopefully help me swallow down this lump in my throat. Getting a reality check from two perfect strangers with them only knowing the tip of the iceberg of my marriage has been hard to accept to say the least. 

"What's his name anyways? I might've seen him before if he likes to go out sometimes" she asks, coming back over with a pitcher to fill up my water, encouraging me to drink more. 

"Taehyung, well Tae for short" I say, hoping and praying that the name won't ring a bell. "Got a picture of him?" she asks, leaning in closer when I pull out my phone. "Shit" she says under her breath as soon as she sees him. 

"What?" I ask pulling it back as though her words had stung me. "He's come here a few times with some friends of his. They're one of the rowdier groups that comes by so we've had to kick them out on occasion" she says clearing her throat at the end, almost as if she's trying to hold something back. 

"If you know anything else about him please tell me" I implore, refusing to be in the dark about this if she knows. "He's gone 'home' with a few girls here" she says putting home in quotes since he's obviously never brought them back to our place. "Do you know how many?" I ask, knowing that I really don't want to know the answer. 

"I've lost track..." she answers, hating that she had to be the one to reveal this to me. "Did you know?" she asks with her brows pinched together. "That he's been sleeping around? Yeah, I know" I say taking a big gulp of my water as if it were the solution to this fucked up life I'm living. 

"Why haven't you left?" she asks, genuinely concerned. "He's my husband" I say with glossy eyes but then clear my throat again to hopefully curb these emotions. "And? He's a dick" she says, continuing with her efforts to never pull punches. "You don't know him like I do" I say, standing up and grabbing my purse to go. 

"Just, be careful okay?" she implores, placing her hand on top of mine before I get too far. "I will" I say and give her a sad smile before walking out and waiting for the cab I called a few moments ago. 

~~~~~~

Walking into the house I'm relieved to see that Taehyung is no where to be found, the lights still having been turned off from when I had locked up. 

Taking off my shoes, I quickly put them in the closet in an effort to quickly cover my tracks and I run into the bedroom soon after that. I take off my clothes and throw them into the washer to again avoid any suspicions because I don't want him even remotely knowing that I managed to leave the house on my own again.

Walking into the bathroom to take a shower as well I see that somehow some of the makeup I had applied rubbed off and I was unknowingly sporting one of the hickeys Taehyung had left. I look at it in the mirror a bit closer, starting to wonder how long it's been showing. 'Did Jungkook see it?' I question,  really hoping the answer is no even though he knows I'm married, it's not something I want to show off.

It could've been worse though, he could've seen the other bruises I have that clearly show evidence of much more than just rough sex. 'How would he have reacted? Would he have said something?' I continue, asking myself question after question, soon starting to regret my decisions of going out tonight. 

Did I have a good time? Sure. But it doesn't make up for the amount of fear and guilt I'm going to feel if Taehyung finds out. Will he do something? Will he get angry? Will he leave? Knowing him he would accuse me of cheating on him even though I'm the one who confirmed my suspicions. 

He, like Rae is someone that doesn't pull punches literally and figuratively. It's something that I've leaned to live with, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Hey" I hear him say softly while opening the bathroom door, scaring me and not even realizing how lost in thought I had been. To the point of not even realizing that he had gotten home. 

"Hi" I say timidly, not knowing what his next move might be. 

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he questions in a mischievous tone, already taking his shirt off. I open the glass door as a way to invite him in and I hold out my hand waiting for him, knowing I really have no choice in the matter. 

"Hi beautiful" he says after getting in, placing his hands on my hips and leaning down to kiss me softly on the lips. I sigh into the kiss, thankful he's back home again and showing his softer side to me again, clearly trying to make up for how we had left things the last time we saw each other. 

"I missed you" he says in a husky voice leaning down further to place a few open mouthed kisses on my neck marking me again, no doubt to make up for the ones that had started to fade. "Missed you" I say through a breathy tone then my breath hitches moments later when he bites down on my shoulder.

"You smell so sweet baby" he says running his nose along the length of my neck before making his way back up to kissing me. "It's my" *kiss* "new" *kiss* "body wash" I say, trying my best to answer but he purposefully works against me, loving the struggle I put up.

"I like it. Buy it again for me when you run out okay? I want my pretty wife smelling like this all the time" he says before flipping me around and pressing my chest agains the wall.

"You gonna be good and let me take you in here?" he asks grinding his dick against my ass making my breath pick up, not expecting this drastic change in behavior. I nod my head with my cheek against the tiles. He presses his chest flush up against my back, pushing me up against the wall even harder, making my chest feel sore as my nipples rub up against the cool surface, making me whine from the sensation.

"Aw look at you, so needy and ready to be full" he say, leaning back a bit and running his finger along my slit, feeling how I'm already clenching around nothing and dripping with arousal as the water falls on my back in a steady stream. "Fuck you look so hot right now" he says looking at my face and dragging his eyes down my figure before spreading my legs a bit and making moves to put it in. 

"Wait" I whimper. "Don't worry, you can take it" he says, placing a kiss on my shoulder before sliding the tip in and making me take in a sharp breath at the intrusion, him continuing to push himself further and further inside until he's bottomed out. 

He enjoys the feeling of my walls spasming around him as I feel the burn from trying to get used to him again. It isn't like this often, he usually loves to take his time prepping and teasing me until I'm begging for more but he had an almost urgency to be inside me this time. 

"Fuck" he says as he starts to move in and out of me, watching the way my ass moves with every thrust and is addicted to the moans that come from me naturally, being caught off guard by all of this and not expecting this to happen tonight. 

"Feels s-so good" I say, clawing at the walls for something to hold onto, knowing there's nothing there for me. He takes notice and he places his hands on top of mine, thrusting in and out with only his own hips supporting mine as he growls in my ear. 

"Been dying to fuck this pretty little cunt all day. Then I come home and you're in the shower making it so easy for me to just slip it in, practically begging for my cock" he says as he slows down his thrust but puts more force behind each one. 

"Isn't that right? You just want to be good for me and take it, let me have my way with you" he says pulling out and flipping me around, enjoying the dick drunk look on my face. He lifts one of my legs up and wraps it around his waist, pounding into me harder making me grab onto his neck and pull him in for a kiss, silencing my moans, making him swallow them as he coaxes more and more out of me. 

"S-shit" he stutters and tells me to jump, wrapping my other leg around his waist as well so he can thrust into me harder. I clench around him when he wraps his mouth around one of my sensitive buds, hard and begging for stimulating. 

"Fuck, more" I whine, desperately needing release. "You wanna cum?" he taunts, letting go of my throbbing bud with a pop. "Tae please" I moan digging my nails into his shoulders. He groans at the feeling and grips onto my waist digging his fingers into them, no doubt leaving bruises.

Giving me a few more thrusts he has my eyes rolling back and my toes curling as my orgasm hits me like a ton of bricks with him still fucking into me, helping me ride it out before he cums a couple minutes later. 

Slipping out and sliding me down the wall and back on my feet he leans up against me while our breathing mixes with the sound of the water still falling all around us. He places a few soft kisses on my shoulder before pushing off the wall and placing both of his hands on my cheek, kissing me softly, helping me slowly come back down and leaving my my mind foggy and drunk on him. 

"I love you" he says when he breaks apart from my lips. "I love you too" I smile, humming in contentment and feeling so good, loving that despite everything he loves me no matter what. 

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[cupcakeslushie]

Bro

So I’ve been cooking on what to say about your KendraTello fic for a couple months now and I think I finally have some sort of semblance of thought that is shareable. First off, my friend once said that any form of media that makes you feel something is considered good media. And Broski, lemme tell ya. Your KendraTello AU makes me F e E l T h I n G s.

I have so much to say but for the instance of this comment, I see myself as Mikey in this situation. I have ridiculously high empathy and I’m studying to become a counselor while currently being in counseling myself. While I never had to deal with the struggles and the complete hell of being in an EXTREMELY toxic relationship like that, I do struggle with overcoming my own insecurities and crushing rescuer/complex. AKA I feel like I gotta save/be helpful to everybody or else I have no value.

So reading this little story has me like gripping my blanket in horror because it is just so well written that not only can I see the implications, but I can FEEL how the rewiring would have felt for Donnie. Like…*shudders* I get it. A bit. And trying to overcome that? To grow and learn how to trust people, especially those you considered to have hurt you? The brothers relearning how to love their traumatized brother and realizing nothing, nothing is ever going to be the same way again? It makes me want to cry and cradle Donnie and all of them so tightly. I get it, honey, I get it from both sides, and I am so so so sorry.

*holds up hands* Now I’m not trying to share this in any negative or trauma dumbing manner at ALL. If it came across as such, my sincerest apologies. I genuinely just wanted to commend you in your storytelling abilities for they truly are impelling on multiple accounts. I hope this message finds you well and is a reminder that you are leaving an impact in this world. You’re making a difference and I think that you’re honestly incredible. Sending my love and support to both you and your Donnie ✨🫂🧡🙏🏼

Sorry this took so long to reply back, I have a few asks in my inbox that I just like to scroll back through and ponder on, and this has been one of the ones I’ve been holding onto.

Thank you for being so open and honest, and real, I think that will really help in your own journey to become a counselor for others, because all of that helps people feel like their concerns and issues are actually being heard. I’m also on the highly empathetic spectrum, and it’s taken many years to come to terms with knowing when to put my needs and happiness on the forefront, instead of exhausting myself in trying to fix everyone else’s problems.

Every day we are bombarded with people all around the world that are struggling, and in need of help. We have so much more access than any other generation before us, and that can give us so much anxiety and helplessness, and make it feel like we aren’t doing enough to make things better. If you need to take a break from listening to the problems of your friends and family, or take a break from doomscrolling, because it’s all making you feel like you’re the worst, for not helping every single person that comes across your feed, then take a break, please. Trust that someone else is doing their part as well, and breathe.

It’s a delicate balance sometimes, but please remember that you always have worth, even if you’re only doing your best to exist and be healthy. You deserve rest and love too, and those are never things you should have to earn!

[kelcemenow]

Call Her Daddy.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 829

Warnings Sexual references, fluff and strong language...obviously.

I hope I've done this one right! I've never heard of the podcast, nor have I listened to it but I did a some research and just went for it! "Hello first of all I’m a huge fan of your work, I have an idea in mind hope you like it. Y/n and travis have been dating for a bit just there close friends know about the relationship and Alex copper a close friend of the reader invites them on her podcast call her daddy where they talk about there relationship/sex life"

"Okay, next question. What is your favourite sexual position?"

You hummed in thought, "I love being on top." You smiled at Alex who nodded in agreement, "There's something about being on top that gives me a sense of power, isn't there? It's a bit dominating."

"Would you say that you like being in the more dominant role in the bedroom?" Alex questioned.

"Sometimes." You giggled, "But on the flipside, I really like being thrown around, you know? Like...lifted up, thrown onto the bed, pushed up against the wall, carried around...that's what I want."

Alex fanned her face with her hand, "Phew, you're speaking the truth here Y/N. So, I promised an exclusive scoop earlier to everybody and I think it's about time that we get to that. Y/N is not my only guest on this episode, we have someone joining us, don't we?"

You laughed, "Yeah, I've been seeing some rumours flying around regarding my dating life and I gotta be honest, a lot of people are getting it all wrong!"

"Gotta love those rumours!"

"So, when Alex asked me to come on Call Her Daddy, I thought it was the perfect time to set the record straight. Plus, I'm going on tour soon and he'll be at quite a few shows so everyone will figure it out eventually anyway."

"So, our guest is someone that you're dating?"

You smiled and adjusted your headphones, "Yeah, we've been dating for a while now and so far, it's only family and close friends that have known about it but we agreed that it's probably time to let everyone else know."

Alex leaned into her microphone, "Just for full transparency, I knew!"

"Yeah you were one of the first people that I told, I couldn't keep that secret from you!"

"Id' have gotten it out of you eventually, I'm good at that!" Alex cleared her throat, "Right, let's not keep everyone waiting for much longer. Daddy Gang, our extra special guest on today's episode is none other than...Travis Kelce!"

You both gave Travis a round of applause as he placed headphones over his ears and smiled into the microphone, "Alright now!"

You grinned and placed your hand on his leg, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Alex took a sip from her water, "Okay, now Travis, you're not new to the podcast scene, we all know that."

Travis snickered, "Nah, I feel at home like this! But I gotta say, New Heights is completely different. You know, me and Jason don't talk about what I think we're going to be talking about here!"

"Yeah, that would be weird!" You laughed.

"Right, let's get straight to it. What's the sexiest thing about Y/N?"

"Oh wow, no messing around here, baby!" He rubbed his beard, "The sexiest thing about my girl?"

"You can only pick one!" Alex lifted an eyebrow.

"That's not easy. Honestly, I think she's the sexiest woman in the world. She could be folding laundry and I'm still mesmerised by her! But the sexist thing about her is definitely how ambitious she is. She has worked her fucking ass off to get what she has got and what makes it even better, is that she did it all herself. I love watching her perform, because I can see what it means to her and how much she has sacrificed to be able to do it. It's amazing, man."

Your lips curled into a huge smile, a wave of happiness washing over you.

"Aww guys, you're going to make me cry! And that's not the vibe I was going for! We want the juicy details!"

Travis mumbled, "Oh...umm...her ass?"

You and Alex both laughed loudly.

"Is that's what you wanted?" Travis looked to Alex who was clutching at her stomach.

"I liked your first answer, baby." You placed your arm gently around his shoulders and traced circles on the back of his neck with your finger.

"I'm sure a lot of people will want to know how you two manage to date with your busy schedules."

You clasped your hands together, "It's difficult, it really is. But we make sure that we keep some time aside for each other. Even if it is just sitting down to have breakfast together or an hour long phone call."

"Technology helps. We like Facetime, we use that one a lot." Travis agreed.

Alex grinned a mischievous smile, "Do the Facetime calls ever get a bit heated...a bit explicit?"

You glanced at Travis with a knowing look, "If I said no-"

"She's be lying." He said loudly.

Your mouth flew open in shock and Alex clapped her hands together, "I knew it!"

"Oh, come on" We're all adults here, we know how those calls can end up sometimes. If Travis calls me shirtless, chances are I'm gonna get a bit...distracted. I Facetimed him from the shower last week." Your cheeks were beginning to deepen in colour, "My God, how do you get this information out of people?!"

______________________________________________________________

I hope that was okay! As always, your comments and messages are always appreciated! You're all too kind! I'll be working through some more requests this week (whenever I have some spare time) and if you want to be added to my Taglist, just let me know!

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[eluxcastar]

This is so silly: Fatui Harbingers receiving a bouquet of flowers from their shy s/o?

Harbingers receiving a gift from their s/o

── ୨୧：harbingers x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: it's exactly what's written on the tin but with a side of me being off my head again

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader

୨୧﹑words :: 950

I'm so in love with the requests that let me answer them like a crackhead. but also I'm so sorry to the anons who want me to be serious I've just got the sillies. I spent the entire time calling it a pot until I realised the thing I was actually referring to is a vase and had to go back and change it all

if you're wondering where the shy part went, it was lost to this phenomenon called "I can't read" and by the time I realised it said that I was already done. I feel like this is the second time it's happened.

Alright usual order Tartaglia first. I'll be honest; I have no clue. Like, I literally left his here just saying, "Alright usual order", because what the FUCK would he do. He doesn't seem like a flower person, but also it being his s/o changes that so much because his s/o might make him a flower person. You could guess his favourite colour is yellow and suddenly it's yellow because he's so normal for you. He didn't even like flowers, but omg, you got him flowers. These are his new favourite flowers ever kinda thing.

Next is Arlecchino (more food is coming I promise), and tbh, I feel like she'd enjoy receiving flowers. It's not an overly flashy gift, and it probably took a lot for you to go out of your way to get that for her, let alone give it to her. She appreciates that you would get her a gift at all because receiving gifts feels nice sometimes. You can have a kiss for your flowers.

Third would be Pantalone, whose I kinda answered. Flowers are a gift, and honestly, I love the idea that as long as the gifts have sentimental value, that's what he'll treasure the most. He's gonna display those in his nicest vase for people to see. Why would you be nervous about that? The thought of what people think of them? No need. Nobody critiques his decor and means it. They know better.

La Signora would appreciate them, but they gotta be nice, yk? And like, you've gotta pay attention. There's no point if you just get whatever's available. Does she like those kinds of flowers? Do they smell nice? Compliment their surroundings? It's in the details that say you care because, to her, it means you were paying enough attention to consider it for what is a very standard gift for many people.

I did Scara then realised I forgot Sandrone omg anyway flowers, she would love those in her own silly little way. They're nice, and it's so cute that you went to the effort that she might just smile at you. She's 100% gonna keep those to herself and just stare at them for a while because someone got her a gift (this basically never happens) (if it did who the fuck are they?? unimportant 🙄)

Aight we got Scaradouche. Firstly no way this man is going to let you immediately know you got him a gift he likes. Flowers? That's such a girly present to give someone 🙄🙄 (They'll be in a pot on his dresser within the hour). He wouldn't usually want flowers, but since you already went and got them, he'll just have to. Just a little, I think he'd be losing it on the inside, kinda like when someone says they're so normal about something, and you know they're fucking lying. Like that

I totally missed Pulcinella last time, so he can get some flowers now. Honestly, I can see why I forgot him. I probably intended to do him but didn't have an idea and was like, "I'll come back to it", then got hit with this thing called filthy liar syndrome. Old people like flowers so he'd be happy with that, something nice to add some colour to a room or something Idk I'm not old (I'M SORRY I'LL BE SERIOUS). Some of you have no grandfather OR father you just like me fr so I'll throw in for y'all that he'd be proud of you for picking out such a nice gift and acquiring it of your own accord (which you are capable of) because it must've been difficult to get past the initial conversation starter problem.

Already off that train, we're finally at Capitano. I can't say for sure cause he has two lines but tbh, he seems like he'd like it. You can have a nice pat on the head and everything cause aww you went to all that effort just for him? That deserves a nice cuddle ❤️

Columbina thinks of it like anything else you do, more confused as to what the occasion is than anything and not very sure what provoked you to do this, but she accepts it and thanks you nonetheless because she still does like it. She just also wants to know what you're doing and why, but she's satisfied with the answer that you just wanted to and cuts you off before the apologies if she doesn't like it.

What the fuck did you get Dottore flowers for?? Like, what would he do with them?? That's awkward. He'll take them off your hands, but after that, he kinda just 🧍 because what else does he do? He can look at them and sit them somewhere, but like they have no purpose. The effort is nice. He probably doesn't want these again tho unless he can use them for something. You'll get a thanks, but like he's kinda bad at hiding that he's got no idea what to do with it. Get him some flowers that are useful rather than decorative maybe?

We are at Pierro, and I think it's a bit of a mix. On the surface, he may seem like he doesn't want them and only accepts them to save your feelings but secretly treasures them ❤️ I like the idea of him being sentimental toward his s/o because something about it is just cute. It also matches the vibe, like, he's got a very closed-off exterior that you are used to that's meant to hide that adorable and undeniably vulnerable interior that really, really loves you and all of the things you do for him.

[lowkeychenle]

Irrevocably [ZCL] (2)

Description: His decision has been made, but sometimes even Zhong Chenle can question his choices...

A/N: Thanks to popular demand, we have part two! I'm thinking this will be a three-parter. Do let me know if you would like a new one.

Genre: Angst, smut (no real sex but like smutty enough ig)

Content Warnings: Chenle is manipulative as hell in this!!! he is not a good guy in this fic!!! Do not read if you don't like it!!!!! This has gone into infidelity territory. Chenle is a bad dude in here, but the reader becomes a lil manipulative too. it's dramatic okay?

Word Count: 4,677

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader | Mark Lee x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

Not hearing from Chenle for a while hurt, but you expected after he left. You knew better than to assume your spot in his life anymore, and when you heard from Mark that Chenle and his girlfriend had gotten back together, it stung more than you thought it would.

You had nowhere to direct your anger. After all, you had no real reason to be angry in the first place. Chenle never promised you anything. He never once said he wanted to be with you in any other way besides what you already had.

Embarrassingly enough, you’d tried to reach out to him. None of your messages went through, not even making it to the ‘delivered’ status.

“So, he came over to see you, screwed you, and then left you in the morning after she called?” Mark raises his eyebrows, blinking in surprise. He sits on the floor between your couch and the coffee table.

“So eloquently put.” You roll your eyes. Sighing, you lean back against the cushion. “But yeah, that’s what happened. And now he has me blocked on everything.”

“I guess I’m just confused,” Mark says. “Why would he do that?”

You grab a decorative throw pillow and cover your face with it. “This is Chenle we’re talking about. I stopped asking about motives a long time ago.”

“Was he like this before?”

“No.” Your chest deflates. “Honestly, he used to be a really good friend, even when we were…you know. Are you mad that I slept with him?”

“Why would I be mad?” He frowns. “I mean, you know I like you. But I’m not gonna tell you what you can and cannot do with your body just because of that. If we were exclusive, it’d be different.”

“I almost stopped him. He’s just…familiar, if that makes sense.” Your cheeks heat up as you bite your tongue to stop yourself from continuing. The last thing you need to do is make any of this worse.

“I think we all have that person we’re weak for.” Mark gives you a half smile. “I get it.”

You cradle your pillow in your lap and rest your head in your palms. “This is probably the last thing you want to talk about.”

“I’ve had more favorable conversations,” he agrees. “And…if you don’t want something with me, that’s fine, you know? You just gotta be honest with me.”

The stark contrast between him and Chenle almost makes you question everything. Mark treats you the way you’re meant to be treated—kindly, with respect, like you matter. Chenle, on the other hand? He was nice to you when sex wasn’t involved…for the most part.

Back before he’d met his girlfriend, he was as close to perfect as he could get. He was respectful of you, he didn’t push your boundaries, he took care of you. Now it was manipulation and heartache and lies. Chenle lied to you. He said he missed you, that all he thought about when he was with her was you, and you couldn’t even try to believe that anymore. It made no sense.

Actions speak louder than words.

But if Mark is perfect, why the hell are you still thinking about Chenle?

“I can do that.” You sit there for a moment, contemplating what you’re even going to say to make any of this better. “I…I like you, but I like him, too.”

“So it wasn’t just sex.” Mark tries to understand, confusion plastered across his face.

“It was. But when he was here the other night, I kind of realized I didn’t think that way anymore. Everything he said to me…It just doesn’t feel fake, I guess.” You fidget with your fingers, unsure of why you’re giving so much detail to him.

“That changes things a little bit.” He shifts, resting one of his arms on his knee. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still not mad. But I think you need to figure things out. I’m not okay with being a second choice, (Y/N). And I hope you know you deserve better than the bullshit he’s been putting you through.”

“I’m trying,” you tell him.

“Right.” He stands, brushing his jeans off. “Do me a favor and call me when you figure things out, okay?”

“I–”

“It’s alright. I’ll talk to you later.”

You can’t even get another word out before Mark is out of the door. Shock courses through you, and you wonder if you made a mistake by telling him about your feelings for Chenle. Yes, his actions have been questionable lately, but that’s not the Chenle you knew. The Chenle you knew is the sort of guy who falls on the floor laughing, the over competitive to a fault sort, and whoever the hell left your apartment that night was not him.

Fantastic. Now you don’t have Mark, either.

The rest of the day is spent sitting in the exact same spot. You try to find something to keep you occupied, but without hearing from Mark, your phone is drier than the Sahara desert. Not to mention nothing seems interesting to you anymore. Staring at the ceiling has become quite the hobby.

You didn’t realize how often you spoke with Chenle until he was gone from your life completely. The two of you used to text constantly, not about anything in particular. Feeling the lack of his company hurts deep in your soul, in a way that shakes you to your core.

When you head into your kitchen to throw a bag of popcorn into the microwave, you don’t even get the bag out of the plastic before you hear a knock. Frowning, you check around to see if Mark had left anything, and maybe it was him coming back for it.

You don’t find anything, but you walk over and throw the door open. Everything inside you shifts, the blood apparently draining from your body at the sight of Chenle standing in your doorframe.

You barely even have a second to think before he’s lunging forward, a hand grasping the small of your back as he leads you back into your apartment and kisses you like his life depends on it. Shock courses through you, and by the time he’s pulling away, you’re at a loss for words.

You should be mad at him. You should push him away and ask him why the fuck he’s suddenly back.

Except that’s no longer on your mind when you catch the look in his eyes. You quickly realize Mark was right—everyone has someone they’re weak for, and for you? It’s Chenle. His chest heaves from the abruptness of the kiss, his tongue darting out to wet his full lips.

“God, I need you so fucking bad right now,” he groans, pulling you flush against him.

You don’t question it. In your mind, this means his girlfriend must’ve left again. She no longer exists in your mind. Chenle would never do that to someone.

“I saw him leave,” Chenle whispers, trailing his lips down your neck to where it meets your shoulder. “Every time I see him with you, I want to kill him.”

“Chenle, I—”

“You like getting me strung up like this, huh?” He nips your skin. “I hate thinking about anyone else fucking you.”

Your world spins around you, and you’re half-convinced this is a dream, but you feed into it regardless. You’ve craved him the entirety of his absence, so if this is all in your head, you’ll thank yourself when you wake up.

“You can’t leave again,” you say, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I won’t, baby,” he hums, resting his forehead on yours. “Can’t stay away from you.”

You tug him back to you, mouths smashing together. Every logical thought you’ve ever had has quickly exited, leaving you alone with a next to primal desire for the man before you. When you pull on his hair, he moans into your kiss, sending excited chills up and down your spine.

Remembering Mark briefly, you push Chenle away, turning toward your kitchen and aching for oxygen. You hate the way you want to forget the past two weeks. Like everything he’s done to you doesn’t matter anymore because he suddenly wants you again.

It’s not okay. You know it’s not, but somehow, it’s not enough to change your mind. You have to distance yourself from him, or every ounce of self-respect you’ve ever had gets flushed down the drain.

“(Y/N), where are you going?” Irritation tinges his voice.

“Better question,” you say, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Where the hell have you been?”

His eyebrows pinch, creasing his forehead. You swear you see a hint of guilt, but it disappears from your view when he turns his head.

“You think you can disappear for weeks and then when you show up at my door, I’ll just drop my pants for you?”

“That’s not what I said,” he replies with a scoff. “I don’t know what I was thinking, okay? I saw you and it just…I need you.”

“No.” You shake your head. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Chenle’s voice raises. “You were never like this before.”

You freeze, a laugh of disbelief escaping your lips as you slap a hand over your mouth. “I’m the one that’s different?”

A shaky breath follows, and then you break into a psychotic laughing fit, gripping onto the counter as actual tears well in your eyes as you try to regain your composure.

“Your girlfriend broke up with you because you left pictures of me in your phone,” you remind him. “And then your first response was to come to my house and tell me how much you missed me and how much you need me, but then you went running back to her the second she was willing to talk about it.”

“That’s—”

“I’m not done,” you snap. Your fury grows, and red clouds your vision. “I warned you. I warned you she would make you choose, and you left without any hesitation. And I haven’t heard from you this whole time, so what the hell was I supposed to think?”

“Are you done now?” He narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

You run your tongue over your teeth, nodding slowly. “You know what? Yeah. I am. Get out, Chenle.”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant—” He takes a step forward, and you take a matching one backward.

“Does she know you’re here?” You raise your eyebrows. “If I texted you right now, would I still be blocked?”

Chenle glances up at the ceiling. He doesn’t even need to tell you the answer—you already know.

“Oh, my God.” You stumble a little further back. “You just barged into my apartment, tried to get with me, and you’re still with her?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh, then please do enlighten me. How is it?”

“Why do you have to do this right now?” he asks, tugging his fingers through his hair as he turns away.

You don’t know him anymore. That much is clear to you—you will never be his, he will never be yours. Nothing about this situation is going to work, not that you ever truly thought it would in the first place. Could you really even be mad at him? You knew what you were getting yourself into when everything started.

“What do you feel about me?” you ask, folding your arms over your chest.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he shoots back, recoiling.

“Am I even your friend anymore?” You scoff. “Be fucking serious right now, do you see me as anything other than an easy fuck?”

“There’s nothing exactly easy about you, (Y/N).” He narrows his eyes at you. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Your girlfriend doesn’t want you here, Chenle.” You try to stay as cool as possible, letting your anger dissipate. “If you’re not going to leave her, you need to leave me. She made you pick, and now I am, too.”

“Are you serious?”

“Clearly.” 

“Not really sure where this fucking ego came from, but I don’t even know you anymore.” He shakes his head, turning away from you.

“Yeah,” you agree. “You’re too busy saving face in a relationship you’re clearly not too attached to. Does she not fuck you good enough?”

His silence is all you need. You imagine the way he closes his eyes, like his emotions are becoming too much for him.

“Or, I bet she hasn’t touched you at all since you got back together. Poor Chenle, can’t stand not getting his dick wet for a fucking month. You realize you’re doing exactly what she expects you not to do?”

“Yeah, because you’re such a saint, right?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Hanging out with Mark and leading him on when I’m clearly the one you want.”

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling your girlfriend to come get you,” you threaten him, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he says.

“I don’t think I will.”

He leaves you alone, and all you can do is crumble to the floor when he shuts the door behind him. You trace over your lips, guilt sinking in at the thought of kissing Chenle when his girlfriend already thinks so low of you. How could you do this to her? She never did anything wrong to you.

As much as you know it’ll hurt, you steel your resolve. You deserve better, and this is exactly what you needed to catapult you toward Mark. He’ll be good to you, and eventually, you’ll get over Chenle. Hopefully, it’s not at Mark’s expense.

Jaemin was throwing a party. He invited Mark, who obviously decided he would take you. It’d been almost a month since Chenle burst into your apartment, so you figured you would be mostly over him in case he decided to show up at the same place.

Jaemin’s place was huge—hence why he’s always the host of these parties. The three story home is like a mansion, complete with dozens of empty rooms upstairs and vast space on the downstairs level for hundreds of people.

By the time you and Mark arrive, it’s already full. There are a few separate living rooms with giant couches, and random chairs strewn about for extra seating arrangements. Jaemin’s group usually sticks together. Years ago, when Chenle originally met them, he was the one who introduced you to the group. Everyone understood the dire situation between the two of you, but no one except Mark knew the full truth.

Since Chenle’s not there when you and Mark sit down, you hope that means he’s not coming at all.

Your relationship with Mark has gone well. You agreed to make it official, and the two of you proceeded to do normal relationship things. Even though you still have yet to sleep with him, you’ve done other things, and you were enjoying the slow pace you were taking. It was a nice contrast to the way things were with Chenle.

You sit on Mark’s lap, dropping your head into his neck while you laugh at something Jaemin said from across the room. His hands are latched around you firmly.

“No, that’s not even how that happened, dude.” Mark shakes his head, excitedly pointing at Jeno. “That motherfucker is just faster than me, okay? How was I supposed to know that?”

“You can just say you suck at sports,” Jeno retorts, grinning as he sips his drink.

Jisung stands from the other end of the couch. “Chenle’s here, gonna go grab him.”

You tense, and even though Mark feels it, you hope it’s not obvious to everyone else. Your boyfriend’s grip tightens on you, and he rubs his thumb on your hip in an attempt to comfort you. This’ll be the first time you’ve seen Chenle in a while, and you have no doubt in your mind that his girlfriend will be here too. You’ve met her plenty of times, but now it was different. She won. And she knows it, too.

“Are you okay?” Mark whispers in your ear. “We can do something else if you don’t want to be around him.”

“I’ll be fine.” You run your fingers through his hair and smile at him. “Thank you, though.”

“You sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You know I don’t want him anymore.” You cup his cheeks and press a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re all I need and more.”

“Let me know if you change your mind. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He squeezes you once, and then the two of you return to your conversation with Jaemin and Jeno.

Renjun brings drinks for everyone, and you gratefully accept yours. As you tip the cup to your lips, three figures make their way through the darkness and into their spots on the couch. Jisung, Chenle, and his girlfriend.

She sits between him and Jisung, leaving Chenle only a few feet away from you. You make brief eye contact, and the only acknowledgement he gives you is a quick raise of his brows. His gaze sweeps over how you’re positioned on Mark, and you’re almost certain you see a scowl on his face right before he sits.

He rests against the cushion, crossing his legs before he puts his arm around his girlfriend and tugs her close to him. She doesn’t even seem to notice your existence, and you feel hate bubble in your gut at the thought of them being happy together.

Mark pokes your side, making you laugh as you curl further into him.

“What are you doing?” you ask, grabbing his hand. “You know I’m ticklish.”

“I just like touching you.” He winks and takes a large sip of his drink.

“You’re pretty good at it, too.” You watch the smile on his face widen, and only when Jaemin says your name, are you shaken away from Mark.

“(Y/N), last time I had a party, didn’t you and Chenle get so drunk that you convinced him to dance on top of the pool table?” Jaemin’s voice is filled with laughter at the memory. “Guys, he wouldn’t get down. She had to go up there and try to get him down. They’re fucking crazy together. Makes a party.”

“Ah, yes, too bad you got rid of the pool table.” You set your drink down and shuffle on Mark’s lap.

Jaemin frowns. “No, I didn’t—”

“I’m sure you’ve got better stories than that trainwreck,” Chenle joins in.

You’ve been doing relatively well. Honestly, you thought you were making decent progress in getting over Chenle, but his words still sink into your gut and churn there until it turns into anger.

How can you make him hurt the same way he’s hurt you?

A plan forms in your mind, and you hide your smirk with your drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the way his girlfriend is staring at you. Her gaze drags over you as if she’s assessing which parts of you Chenle ever liked.

Well, it’s not like she hasn’t seen them. He only kept them saved for a year.

Time for you to put on a show. You want to piss them both off, and you know exactly how you can do just that.

You lean in to whisper in Mark’s ear. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”

“No, of course not.” He pulls away to look at your face. “You know it doesn’t.”

“Good. Then you know that I want you.”

He smirks. “Keep squirming this much, and you’ll know how much I want you, too.”

Mark gets a little more confident when he drinks, and you enjoy it. He reaches down and squeezes your ass quickly, but all that does is make you move more. The two of you laugh together, and he leans forward like he’s going to kiss you.

“Yo, if you two are gonna fuck, can you at least take it upstairs?” Jaemin throws his empty cup at the two of you, but since it’s a red solo cup, it ends up barely making it half the distance.

Mark’s lips brush your ear. “Kinda like the sound of that.”

You can’t even hide the shiver that runs down your spine. Instead of answering, you slide off his lap and hold your hand out to him. He gets up quickly and wraps his arm around your waist and tugs your back to his front before placing a kiss on your neck. The other boys whoop and holler as he guides you toward the stairs, both of you giggling the entire way.

You look over your shoulder, giggles fading when you catch the glare on Chenle’s face. If looks could kill, you’re sure both you and Mark would be eviscerated by now. He’s almost taunting you, daring you to move forward and go upstairs with Mark. Chenle’s girlfriend is scowling for a different reason, irritation plastered on her face while her arms are crossed over her chest.

After a few seconds like that, Chenle disappears from your view as Mark hand dips to squeeze your ass again. You intertwine your fingers with his and lead him all the way to the end of the hall. The door is unlocked, and the room is empty, so you close it behind you.

Mark smiles as you wrap your arms over his shoulders. You barely take time to appreciate it before you press your lips to his. He hums against your mouth. He walks you backwards, hands on your butt, until the back of your knees hit the mattress.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he mutters, gently kissing down your neck. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long.”

Your breath shudders, and you nod. “It’s more than okay.” You refuse to waste anymore time. Reaching beneath his shirt, you nudge it up his body.

He pulls it off in a swift motion, allowing you time to trace your fingers along his muscles. You push him onto the bed, and he backs up until he’s sitting against the headboard. Without hesitation, you join him in taking your shirt off. The lace of your bra is practically non-existent, but he gulps as you climb on top of him.

You guide his hands to your breasts, sighing when he squeezes them. Grinding down on him, you hold onto his shoulders. You feel his hardness through his shorts, and you lunge forward to kiss him. His tongue battles with yours, and you start to slowly lift yourself from his lap and sink back down as if you were riding his cock. Groaning, he kisses you harder, grasping your hips and helping you grind down on him, back and forth in rhythm with the way his mouth clashes with yours.

The straps of your bra fall down your arms and you tilt your head back at the deliciousness of the friction. Mark nips your collarbone, thrusting up to gain more friction.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Want you on my cock so bad.”

“God, me too.” You move faster, your body shaking and heat infiltrating every inch of you. It’s about time you took this step with Mark, and despite the way the glare on Chenle’s face as you went up the stairs with Mark excited you, you know Mark is everything you want.

He unbuttons your shorts, and you lift up to allow him to pull them down. Before his fingers can even latch onto the belt loops, the door slams open. Mark reacts quickly, flipping you over so he covers you with his body until he can get the throw blanket at the edge of it over you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mark hisses, quickly grabbing his shirt from the floor.

You clutch the blanket to your chest as you let your gaze travel to the door, and when you make eye contact with Chenle, your stomach twists.

“I…” Chenle pauses, glancing between Mark and you. “I don’t know.”

Tears well, but you refuse to let them fall in front of Chenle. You can’t lie and say you weren’t hoping this is what would happen, but now that it’s here, you have two men looking at you for answers.

“You’re a shitty person, you know that?” Mark says to Chenle. “What is she to you? A fucking toy? You think it makes you fucking cool to ditch her and then not want her to be with someone else?”

“What, and you treat her better? You were about to fuck her at a party—”

“Better than fucking her while I still have a girlfriend,” Mark snaps.

“What?” A soft voice sounds from behind Chenle, and he grimaces.

“No, that never happened, I—” Chenle frantically looks to you for support, fear in his eyes as he silently begs you to help him.

But you refuse to. It’s his own fault he’s in this situation.

Footsteps retreat, but Chenle stays put, panic rising as he tries to figure out whether or not he should stay or if he should go after his girlfriend.

“You’ll never fucking be anything to her,” Chenle spits at Mark. “You think she’ll ever think of you the way she thinks of me? She’s mine, and you’re an idiot if you think you stand a chance—”

Mark’s fist connects with Chenle’s jaw, and you scream. Launching up from the bed, you push yourself between them before Chenle can retaliate. You pant as you pull the straps of your bra back up and face Mark, putting your hand up.

“Mark, I—”

“Oh, fucking forget this.” He laughs, slapping his palm to his forehead. “He’s right, isn’t he? No matter what I do, it’ll always be him?”

You take a step forward. “It’s not like that—”

“He just insulted you, and you stood in front of him. You stood in front of him.” The anger on Mark’s face is new to you, and you feel shame prickle in your gut.

“Please, let me—”

“I wasn’t the one throwing punches,” Chenle says. “So it’s not like she had anything to protect you from—”

“Fuck this. I’m done.” Mark pushes past both of you, stopping to turn back and point. “You two are both fucked up. I don’t want to hear from either of you ever again.”

“Mark—” You start to follow him, but Chenle grabs your wrist. Glaring at him, you try to jerk away from him. “You’ve done enough, leave me alone.”

“It’s not…not like that. You’re half-naked, (Y/N), at least get dressed before you follow him.”

You curse loudly, running back into the room to grab your shirt from the floor. Tears blur your vision as you tug on the fabric back on and button your shorts. You try to ignore Chenle’s presence—considering that’s how you got here in the first place—but the emotions become too much.

You fall to your knees at the edge of the bed, Chenle’s form a blur as he moves toward you. Your fists clench into the bedding, and your body shakes as you truly realize what you’ve done.

Chenle’s embrace feels natural, easy to melt into, but you push him away with such force, he sits down on the floor next to you.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss at him. “This is all your fault. Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”

“It’s okay,” he replies, nodding. “You should be mad at me. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what just happened.”

You grip his shoulders and start shaking him. “What’s wrong with you? What happened to you? Where did Chenle go?”

For the first time in months, you see the old him. The one who actually cared for you. Guilt and shame cover his face as he takes in the state you’re in. You eventually become so weak, you crumble. He catches you, stroking the top of your head.

“I’m so sorry.” Chenle squeezes you tightly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

[skynapple]

Spoilers for Xavier: 21 Days!

It's been a while folks but I'm back with the essays.

Mentions: spoilers for Xavier's completed myth and anecdotes as well. Read at your own risk below!!

I. Initial Thoughts

FIRST OF ALL

akskdkjshHhwhLWKJEKWH;ksjdSg;kdhdga

NEXT OF ALL

This card is so beautifully written for so many reasons. I am literally,,, going insane already.

YOOOOOOOOO OK SO LIKE

A. Xavier has been holding back a long time

It's so clear Xavier has been holding back, holding on for SO long. But he's also?? So freaking scared.

BUT THIS RIGHT HERE.

He holds soooo much for that girl who died in his arms; that girl who loved him so much and it was too late before he realized. And now he knows deeply that the roles feel reversed and he's terrified.

B. Contrary to Popular Belief; MC Has A Right To Be A Lil Confused

I don't think they show enough that MC still does fear losing him, and it's so obvious she's so curious about him, and wants to feel closer, but she DOES feel that wall he's built to protect his identity.

I groan a lot at how flippant and distant MC is, almost seemingly constantly rejecting Xavier's affection.

But Idk if you had a coworker who was scarily good at his job, also militant, gone for god knows how long, who knows where, and then was weirdly affectionate but then when you ask him like idk what his favorite color is he gets all "that's classified" which ok hasn't actually happened but it FEELS like it has.

He's always misdirecting anything super deep with her so yeah it goes without saying but she has every right to think that maybe he's trying to keep things professional so why wouldn't she always want to keep things professional even if she wants more?

But now he's actually being really honest. He's telling her things he's held on to for centuries (not that she knows that LOL) and you can literally see the relief in his eyes (and major props to the VA for conveying this cause my godddd it literally sounds like Xavier is TREMBLING??). And she still feels the need to clarify, hey is this real or are you lost in the moment?

Because honestly, I do feel MC does want this and has for so long. Her little "sneaky kiss" was her way of trying to say that like, what took you so long? and yes, because she does want it, she needs to be sure that he's being for real.

And props for Xavier for not wanting a three-peat of what happened with her past versions and all the miscommunication. He's done with that. He's putting his foot down to get what he wants.

C. Xavier Finally Being Honest With Himself

And for a former prince who literally gave up everything for her, he has never once allowed himself to convey just how deeply he does want her, and how much he really actually needs her and wants this with her.

I gotta hand it to @rose-tinted-kalopsia for saying this, too, cause like, this really is him accepting the whole of the past, and all of him, and saying like, "no, it's been like this all along, and I'm done hiding from the past versions, screw that, screw this, I'm getting my happy ending with you."

Cause for all of his sneaking in bits of lore (i freaking died!)

I KNOW IT'S A JAB AT HER PAST SELF I JUST KNOW IT. YOU JUST KNOW HE TENSED A LITTLE BIT AT THE ELOPE LINE.

THAT ARGUMENT HIT TOO CLOSE TO HOME.

They didn't elope because of communication issues!

He did leave and break ties with his family and she couldn't possibly know or remember that (It literally slips out and is not part of the script and you know he feels guilty about it but even that feeling and maybe mixed emotions - not anger but idk maybe a lot of THICK mixed emotions about it; none of which are regret! but STILL) like he has never been able to say it out loud and he does, he DOES. He FINALLY DOES.

So now there's a lot of the table.

D. The Spilled Cherries But It's Not What You Think

It's messy, my god how could it not be. Even the spilled cherries is like.... it's more of like "this is a mess, we're a mess, this relationship is all over the place" and the bowl gets knocked over, cause this whole situation has really literally tipped their bowl over. It's all out on the floor.

All her emotions of feeling that wall that she references a Lot™️ in all their cards, she finally breaks through and gets him to be honest with himself and with her

They actually kinda did sort of have a real genuine argument and maybe it's the first time he felt that way with her and i think honest to god he panicked a little bit - and I think that's why he says "that was normal" to her like, he has to reassure himself that's kinda normal?

good god the cooking!! he really has to wrestle with the fact that there are things he just can't do well all the time and he puts the work in to actually learn and he's semi-decent now! like maybe this man isn't about to make chicken fricassee anytime soon, but he can make some stews and simple dishes. So even that emotion of "i'm learning i'm trying to be better" is out

Their actual physical connection - she's finally stopped pressing him away, and has dropped the denial that she wants it too, but I think mentally she's a bit tired so that bowl toppling over is like, nah man I'm done with this rollercoaster too

They really do have so much synergy. Like who bought the cherries in the first place? She did, because she knows they're his favorite

The shadows merging like- his whole tearing in their earlier conversation "Do you think our shadows look like there's?" they don't specify what they were looking at out the window but it was probably a couple passing by, maybe sharing intimate proximity and a kiss and honestly that's helped tip the bowl too

the cherries being like- almost a metaphor of all these factors; all the times they've had so many, many, many miscommunication issues but it's all gone and said and done now (maybe not ALL but many of their issues)

So I'm really excited to see how it all goes moving forward.

This does not even capture half of my entire breakdown over this card but that's a majority of my brain dump.

What was your favorite moment in the card? Comment below!

[razorblade180]

Martial Practice 2

March:*planking*…….

Yanqing:Two more minutes.

March:You’re insane.

Yanqing:You said you were going to take this seriously, and I’m going to take this-

March:*plops to the ground*

Yanqing:Seriously!?

March:I’m trying! Although I don’t get how this helps swordplay!

Yanqing:Your arms will get tired swinging a sword a lot, but it’ll never feel worse than planking for five minutes. Honestly I thought you had it. You can help fight Phantylia but not endure a five minute plank.

March:Not even remotely close to begin the same thing! Ugh, this is frustrating.

Yanqing:Imagine my position. I see you make similar pacing errors I’ve done and can’t help but patiently wait for you to stop!

March:It’s not like I’m not listening. I just-

Yanqing:Think you can make use of an opening, so you take it. Believe me, I get it deeply! Now I get what the General means when he says “Don’t think you can make a strike. Know you can make a strike.”

March:Ahhh, so know different than archery. Don’t let the bowstring go unless you know have the shot.

Yangqing:I…actually never thought of it like that.

March:Yanqing, I really am taking this seriously and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but Yunli’s approach in our practice is a little less…intense. *sits up*

Yanqing:Of course it is. After all, you’re representing the Loufu, not the Zhuming. Not to say she isn’t being earnest, but certain pressure isn’t going to fall on her if you make errors.

March:Oh…it’s that serious?

Yanqing:Yes and no. Sorta?

March:What happened to needing certainty!? You can be direct with a sword and not an explanation?

Yanqing:Hey! I’m trying to find the right phrasing! March, you are an outsider but you’re also an accomplished fighter. In all honesty, you’re picking up the sword really well. People all over will be interested to see your skills, but I wouldn’t say their expectations are unreasonable. Like I said, you’re not from here.

March:So the bar is great instead of excellence. Mistakes won’t be held too harshly against me but that doesn’t mean I can afford to cause a blunder.

Yanqing:It wouldn’t surprise me if most citizens would simply be happy seeing someone as charismatic as you take part in learning our customs. Mistakes are bound to happen; however, they’ll be directed at my inabilities as a teacher. Then by extension…they’ll say things like “what has the General been teaching his disciple?” That’s where I draw the line. I refuse to cause him any unnecessary trouble.

March:So that’s why you’re so stiff. I can see why, but Jing Yuan doesn’t seem like the type of person to put too much stock in opinions like that. He definitely wouldn’t blame you.

Yanqing:Doesn’t change the fact I would be causing unnecessary problems for him. I’d blame myself…

March:…(He’s quite the little adult. Between him, Bailu, and Dan Heng, I’m starting to wonder if any kid on the Loufu actually gets a childhood.) Looks like I gotta put in double the effort. But first…mind if we eat?

Yanqing:Alright. Despite what it might look like, I’m not trying to run you into the ground. I’ll buy of course. I’m sure there’s something on the ship you’re still dying to try.

The sudden and loud sound of his stomach growling makes his face turn a little red as March tried not to snicker. Yanqing simply starts walking, prompting her to get up.

Even after that little moment, March notices how the boy carries himself maturely and as a teacher. If she was being honest with herself, March remembered how eager she was to do right by Himeko and Welt when she was brought into the Express family. Sure she entered the Wardance out of curiosity, but the choice to train so admittedly was born from the desire to continue helping her newfound family. She could definitely relate to Yanqing’s ambitions and fears.

Without hesitation, March pulled out her camera and ran to catch up with him. The girl put her arm around his shoulders and smiled brightly before hitting the flash.

Yanqing:Agh! What the heck!?

March:Hehe, hmmm not a bad photo of me at least. You might need some work though.

She shows him an image of her smiling cutely while he’s completely caught unaware and a little startled. His stern face quickly shattered into pouting as all prior thoughts vanished.

Yanqing:I wasn’t ready! That’s not fair!

March:Oh so you want another one? Okay, better bring your best smile!

“Best smile.” Funny, the moment he thought about it, Yanqing immediately found it difficult. Teeth or no teeth? Was he looking too directly into the lens? Why was this so hard!? His gaze shifted left at March to see what smile she was making; only to notice the girl was sticking her tongue at him childishly. Yanqing didn’t think twice about returning the gesture as they began the dumbest stare down in history.

It wasn’t long before both of them broke out into laughter over their antics, giving March the perfect opportunity. Click! The perfect shot of just two fast friends being silly and full of life.

March:Aye, I knew you had it in you. I’ll be sure to send you a copy. That way you’ll never forget!

Yanqing:Yeah well…thanks. *smiles* Now then, let’s get some food already. I’m starving!

March:Don’t have to tell me twice!

[salty-croissants]

Heya! Just hear me out:

When their s/o buys matching hoodies (w/ Bullfrog & Rayman/Ramon)

Thank you for the request ! 

This is a really wholesome and original idea of a prompt , I really enjoyed writing it :D

I apologize for the long wait , but it’s been a very , very busy week , and I’ve been feeling a bit too tired to write anything the past days … sorry about that ;( 

Anyway , I hope this turned out okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

When you come back home and show him the matching hoodies you got while you were outside , Bullfrog is definitely very surprised : 

I honestly don’t think he has ever received something like this as a gift , so expect him to be especially enthusiastic .

< Merci beaucoup my dear , it looks so nice ! > 

< Haha , you’re welcome sweetie ! 

I just couldn’t help myself : the idea of sharing some matching clothing with you sounded amazing to be honest ~ > 

This frog will have the brightest smile on his face when you’re both wearing the matching hoodies … 

He just can’t stop gushing about how much he likes his and just how cute you look in yours , it never fails to make you smile ://)

The other Ghosts have seen you two with the matching hoodies occasionally , and while Dolph thinks it’s … well , maybe a bit too cheesy , Jade definitely supports you both , even suggesting more matching clothing you could get … 

< Oh - you guys should definitely try wearing these ! 

I think you’d look super cute in them ! > 

< *sigh* … please don’t encourage this . > 

It’s especially nice when you’re in the safety of your home , cuddling under the comforting warmth of the hoodies and just enjoying each other’s company …

< y/n , thanks again for this hoodie … I just love it ! >

< Don’t mention it … I just really wanted to do something nice for you , y’know ?

If anyone deserves that , it’s you . >

< Aw , venez ici mon amour ~ > 

< Heyy - hahah , that tickles honey ! ~ > 

Rayman 🧡

To say that Rayman is happy about your gift would be an understatement : 

the fact that you decided to surprise him with a matching hoodie just to see him smile is enough to make his daily stress caused by his job disappear for a few precious minutes … 

< So uh , do you like it ? I wasn’t sure about the color at first , I thought it might be a bit too much , but these were the last matching hoodies they had left , and - > 

< Like it ? 

y/n , I love it ! You couldn’t have chosen better ! > 

Rayman is already a big fan of spoiling you , so as soon as he understands that you’re into matching clothing you better believe that he’s going to buy you a lot more of them in the future … maybe exaggerating a little sometimes , but he just wants to do all he can to make you feel loved and appreciated .

< Woah - Ray what happened ? You look like you just bought an entire store ! > 

< Uff - it’s okay ,  I just gotta carry these inside … gimme a second … > 

< Hold on , let me help you …

I really appreciate you getting me all these gifts honey , but maybe don’t get so many next time : I don’t want you to hurt yourself carrying them around ! > 

< Heh … you’re right , you’re right …

I just couldn’t help myself : you deserve all the best things I could possibly give you . > 

< Pfft … you’re always so sweet , thank you ~ > 

< Anything for you , y/n ~ > 

When you’re separated during the day , Rayman likes to carry his hoodie with him and keep it by his side when he’s at work : just looking at it makes him feel so happy to have a loving partner like you , you truly are the best thing that’s ever happened to him ❤️

He loves it whenever the two of you are outside wearing the matching hoodies , it’s like a nice little way of showing to everyone around that his heart belongs to you and you alone … 

Also if you ever feel worried about him getting embarrassed by it , Rayman is quick to make your anxiety go away . 

< That’s nonsense darling … this isn’t just any hoodie , it’s a gift from you , and that makes it all the more special : I could never get embarrassed by it ! > 

Ramon 🖤

Okay , so Ramon might get … pretty worried at the thought that you went to buy something , especially without him : 

he’s the one who is supposed to watch over you , plus Eden knows who you are … they could’ve taken the opportunity to capture you and do horrible things to you .

… however , he can’t bring himself to be actually angry . 

< I’m sorry Ram … I just wanted to do something nice for you , you’ve been looking down lately and I thought … > 

< No - no no , I like the hoodie y/n , I do … it was very sweet of you to do this for me .

Still , please remember that Eden is on the hunt for us , you can’t just go outside without a way to protect yourself . 

Just … be more careful next time , okay ? 

I love you , and I can’t bare the thought of you getting hurt … > 

< I love you too , sweetie … I’ll be more careful , I promise . > 

Sometimes , Ramon is going to hold the hoodie and just … stare at it , quietly reflecting to himself : 

you put your life on the line to get it for him … you risked getting hurt , all to give him a gift that could make him happy … 

While that thought worries him , he just can’t help but smile a little in front of your sheer dedication to make him smile .

It can get very cold in the hiding place you’re both staying in , so you and Ramon definitely cuddle while wearing the hoodies : 

they’re so warm and cozy … they really make those little moments of affection even better . 

< Are you comfortable like this , y/n ? >

< Mhm … couldn’t be better ~ >

It’s not rare for you to stumble upon a sleeping Ramon using the hoodie as a blanket , and he just looks … so cute ;//; 

He often has trouble sleeping , so having your gift so close to him definitely helps him relax … not as much as actually holding you , of course , but it’s still nice ! 

[cocogum]

My honest reactions of episodes 5 and 6 (part 1)

PART 2 : HERE

(‼️SEASON 4 SPOILERS‼️)

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We obviously start with the ✨sadidas✨ Armand and Amalia (as we should 💕) coming back from the assembly meeting with the Eliatrope goddess.

Okay so were starting off pretty strong lol

I LOVE how Armand thinks about the Eliatrope goddess cuz yeah we were pretty much thinking the same thing (about how she’ll pretty much stalk them and will put her children in their world) and I just absolutely LOVE how he’s keeping his guard because of her and has become even more doubtful of Yugo. (Just look at his eyes as he stares at Amalia!!)

Because yeah, even though he wasn’t as wary of Yugo before, some hints were still shown in the OVAs when he called him “a king without his people is unheard of” but Yugo shrugged his comment off.

BUT NOW WE GET TO SEE MORE OF ARMAND SLANDERING YUGO and basically exposing Amalia acting “not rational” when she talks about Yugo.

Armand, my man, your sister’s clearly in love with Yugo OF COURSE SHE WOULDN’T BE RATIONAL WITH HIM (you should’ve seen how she kissed Oropo tho you would’ve lost your shit lo)

BUT DAMN ARMAND CHILL WTF ARE U RACIST AGAINST ELIATROPES NOW???!!? Same ngl 🥰🥰 I want more drama 💖💖

I just ADORE Az and his family playing on their tree Tofu tower they look so adorable ☺️✨💖 I already made a headcanon that Yugo and Alibert built it (while Chibi and Grougal just watched).

OMG EVERYONE STFU MY SONS ARE HERE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😍😍😍😍😍🥰😍😍🥰😍😍🥰🥰 ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE SEEN U TWO 😭😭😭💖💖

Look at these two not doing anything and just being lazy bums 😭😭🥰💕💕

Also I need a gif of Yugo and Alibert hugging with Az and his kids in the background asap ✨

But all cuteness aside, in all my years of being a Wakfu fan, I literally never saw Yugo make that face before. Like it was so uncalled for that my heart literally dropped when I saw him like that. I never thought that the face of terror and shock (combined with the booming sound in the background) could go so well on him and now I wanna see it more!! I HOPE YOU TORTURE HIM ANKAMA!!

Btw the Eliatrope goddess is such a fraud and can’t think for herself even though she said she wants to rule a freaking planet but okay (u fucked up the first time by default when ur kids had one planet for themselves but ur already messing up ur second time cuz ur running away from ur problems when U AND NORA WERE THE REASON WHY THE NECROMES GOT OUT ARE U KIDDING ME- YOU DIDN’T CHECK?!!!???!)

Armand’s really trying hard not to say something racist right now.

Dude can’t even look him in the eyes while saying hi lol

Also can we talk about what Armand told Yugo??? :

Like………

IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE SOME KIND OF FORESHADOWING ?!?!? I DONT GET IT AND IM SCARED NOW ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

ANKAMA STOP PLAYING WITH ME, DON’T TOUCH MY AMALIA ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

No because im legitimately scared that something bad will happen to her, why else would Armand say these kinds of things to YUGO of all people????

I swear I will actually cry if this ended up being foreshadowing cuz honestly wtf…why did Amalia ever do to you people….My fear for Amalia was already there even before Season 4 so why do you gotta make my paranoia resurface like that??? Why do u gotta do me like that???? 😭😭😭

This is the guy who started a genocide against his own people and has more common sense than the GODDESS right in front of him. I get that she’s traumatized cuz of what happened to her but you gotta realize that they’ll always run after you if you just keep running, so the least you can do is throw your kids to fight for you. I just love how the only reason why Qilby is saying any of this is because for once, he’s not the one in control of the fate of the world and can’t redirect the signal or stop it himself lol