#i already hate that guy with every bone in my body and then he does this

[halloweenismyfav]

Uhhh...what the fu-

[mrsshabana]

This request can go on the back burner, but an idea struck me with the force of a ton of bricks when I say your post about incel Gyutaro.

What about a little story where Gyutaro is trying to join a fraternity, to impress girls, and it's hazing time~ They make the pledges strip down to their boxers and wear blindfolds. The frat guys got a bunch of pretty girls together to write on their bodies with washable markers. Compliments or insults. The one with the most compliments from different girls joins tonight, and the one with the least has to walk home in his underwear. The others just get their clothes back and can stay at the party.

Reader is heartbroken by the amount of insults on Gyutaro's body with no compliments. So she puts on red lipstick and kisses all of his birthmarks! And writes in the lipstick. He's still losing, but he definitely won't mind as much anymore. Also, I feel like this is a mouthful if you don't wanna post my ask, itself, that's fine.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐥 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary Gyutaro thinks joining a fraternity will help him impress girls, but it results in him getting hazed and utterly humiliated. Though you end up making it all worth it. Maybe it did help him impress girls after all. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, smut, MDNI, incel Gyutaro, college au, angst, humiliation, hazing, vaginal sex, creampie, premature ejaculation ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 2.6k words. THIS MIGHT BE THE BEST ASK I'VE SEEN ALL YEAR. I KID YOU NOT - AS SOON AS I SAW THIS I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT EVERY MOMENT SINCE. This ended up being some of my best writing, thank you so much for this request ♡

You've seen some crazy shit since you've joined a sorority but nothing quite like this. It's nothing new that the fraternity guys on Greek row like holding strange events and wild parties. But you never thought they'd invite you and some of your fellow sorority members over to haze some rookies.

A line of almost naked men stand before you, blindfolded and in nothing but their boxers. You and the other girls are tasked with writing comments about their appearance on their bodies with a marker. Compliments or insults, both are encouraged.

Most of them just look like your everyday frat boy, with lots of them having abs and large muscles. The only one that stands out is the guy at the end. You can already tell he doesn't belong in this crowd by how pale he is. Not spending the summer drinking beers at the lake and getting a nice tan? Who the hell is this guy? He looks like the type that stays inside all day playing video games and watching hentai.

And that's not all - his body stands out in many other ways as well. He's really skinny and his hip bones protrude in an unnatural way. Not to mention the large ink-like birthmarks that are scattered across his body.

However, even though he looks different, you don't have a negative impression of him. All you thought when you first saw him was, "Huh, that guy doesn't look like the kind of guy to join a frat."

As you go down the line you write nice comments on each man's body, not having the heart to write anything negative and possibly hurt someone's feelings. You always felt bad for the guys that get hazed so you could never bring yourself to make it worse for them. However, when you get to the skinny guy, you are utterly shocked by what you see.

Littered all over his body are mean and cruel insults. You felt sick to your stomach as you read them.

"Disgusting"

"Freak"

"Incel"

"Virgin"

One girl even wrote, "Ew, why are you even here?" while another wrote, "I rather die than sleep with you lol."

You understand that he has an unconventional appearance but it certainly does not warrant all of these hateful comments. It breaks your heart to see that not even a single girl has said something nice about him.

You can't even imagine the amount of courage it must have taken him to stand up here like this. Only to get shot down and made fun of? You won't stand for it.

He flinches as he feels your delicate, manicured hands touch his chest. Then he feels something creamy and soft glide along his body, it feels different from the markers he's felt so far.

You decide to write some nice comments in your favorite red lipstick.

"So hot!"

"Cutie ;)"

But you feel like it isn't enough so you put a layer of the vibrant shade on your lips, then begin to kiss the birthmarks on his body.

His breath hitches and his face turns red when he feels you kiss him. Starting with his cheek and going all the way down to the mark on his hip. Everyone stares at you with confused faces as they watch you adore the "ugliest" guy in the lineup. But honestly, you don't care, you think he's hot as hell.

However, you feel like it's not enough so you write, "CALL ME!" in large letters on his chest followed by your phone number.

As all of the girls finish up leaving their comments for the guys, they are finally allowed to take off their blindfolds and read the messages on their bodies.

When he removes his blindfold you can't help but smile seeing how cute he is, and not to mention those beautiful blue eyes.

The self-proclaimed leader of the hazing committee, Tengen Uzui, reads the comments out loud.

Of course, the insults on Gyutaro's body sting. Especially since they are so harsh and he received a lot more than everyone else. But the bright red compliments are what's keeping him afloat. Almost making him not give a fuck about what any of the other girls had to say. Of course, there is a part of him that thinks this could be a cruel trick to get his hopes up. But honestly, after going so many years without a girl even looking in his direction, he can't help but get excited. After all, this is the first time he's ever gotten a girl's phone number.

He looks around the room, trying to see who the culprit could be. There are a few girls wearing red lipstick so he's not entirely sure who it could be.

"Looks like you'll be walking home, Gyutaro!" Tengen announced loudly, "And I'll be keeping these!" He laughs as he snatches Gyutaro's clothes - forcing him to walk home shamefully in nothing but his boxers.

He feels a wave of embarrassment wash over him as everyone stares and laughs. Just wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, he nods and walks towards the door.

"Wait!" You shout as you run towards him, taking off your shirt and jeans. Once you're down to your bra and panties you say, "Let's go together."

His eyes widen as he looks you up and down, his face as red as a tomato. The party goes completely silent, the girls stare at you with confusion and a hint of disgust. While the guys stare at Gyutaro with envy, wishing that they were in his place.

"Well, come on," you say, breaking the silence.

Gyutaro gives you a shaky nod and opens the door for you, following you out.

Once outside the frat house, he really doesn't know what to say, at a complete loss for words. A half-naked girl is walking home with him right now, and not just any girl, you're a solid ten.

His perverted self may be too focused on your appearance right now, but a part of him does recognize how nice it was of you to do that for him so he didn't feel so embarrassed. You literally took off your clothes so you could endure his hazing punishment with him. No one's ever been so kind to him before - especially not a woman.

He keeps looking at your tits, trying not to be obvious about it but he can't help himself. He loves boobs!! He always has and he's never been so close to them before. Honestly, it's a miracle he isn't sporting a massive hard-on right now. The cold breeze hitting his exposed skin is the only thing keeping it at bay.

"Um... thanks," he rasps quietly, barely mustering the courage to speak to you at all, "What's your name?"

"Oh, my name's Y/N. And don't mention it," you smile, "No one deserves to be treated that way."

"... so you did it out of pity?" he frowns.

"Not at all! I-I didn't mean it like that!"

"Then what did you mean?"

"Well... I think you're really cute. Nerdy shy guys like you have always been my type," you express your feelings with a hint of embarrassment, "And just because you don't look like the other guys doesn't mean that warrants bullying."

Gyutaro blushes deeply, too shy and flattered to respond. So you continue.

"Don't join the frat, Gyutaro. You won't be happy there, they'll just make you an outcast because you're different. I really hope you change your mind about it." You hope your words won't offend him, but it's the honest truth. A guy like him doesn't belong in a frat and deep down he knows that.

Gyutaro hates everyone in that frat, he finds them annoying and idiotic. He only wanted to join in the first place because he's so desperate to get laid and he knows those types of guys pull chicks left and right.

"Alright, I won't join. But only if you have sex with me," he states with a confidence he hasn't had all night.

"Wh-what?!" You gasp, almost certain you must not have heard him correctly.

"I only wanted to join that stupid fraternity to get laid. You're the first girl that's ever been interested in me. So if you sleep with me then I'll know I can get laid without needing the frat."

At a loss for words, you stare at him with wide eyes as the two of you stand outside of his dorm building.

You're no saint, so sex isn't something you aren't used to. But you also wouldn't consider yourself the type to sleep with a guy you barely know either. This is still weird for you. But is it too weird for you?

Obviously not because you feel butterflies form in your stomach and a moistness develop in your panties as you think about it. He is really cute, and he does have a point. If you sleep with him maybe it will boost his confidence. And who knows, maybe after tonight you could get closer to him. Being a virgin and all, he doesn't seem like the type to just dip and skip.

"Ok, you have a deal," you smile shyly and take his hand, "This is your dorm building right?"

His jaw drops, not expecting you to have agreed. "Y-Yeah," he stutters.

"Let's hurry before anyone catches us!" Dragging him inside, the two of you sneak up to his room without being noticed.

Once inside you get clear confirmation that Gyutaro is the exact kind of guy you thought he was. Clothes and empty energy drink cans were strewn about his room. The air smells like a mix of body odor and G Fuel. On his desk is a nice looking PC gaming setup. Equip with neon lights and an RTX 3090. And you aren't surprised to see a bottle of lotion on his desk. And beside it is an nsfw figurine of some anime character that looks vaguely similar to you. Maybe you are his type after all.

Gyutaro doesn't bother cleaning up or even apologizing for the mess, it's like he doesn't even care. He just turns on some colored lights and sits on the bed. Now that he's out of the cold and inside the comfort of his own dorm, you can see his erection quickly growing under his boxers.

"Well? Don't tell me you're gonna chicken out now," he scowls.

"No! I'm not chickening out! I'm actually really excited..." you sit beside him and caress his thigh.

Immediately you can see his member twitch beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. He had this nonchalant act going on, but now it's crumbling down and he's a complete mess.

"C-Can I touch them?" he mutters as he stares down at your chest.

"Sure, let me help you," you say as you unhook your bra and throw it to the side. His eyes widen and he has to stop himself from drooling.

Like instinct, his hands go to your breasts and he starts feeling and playing with them. It's obvious he's never done this before because his hands are shaky and he's handling them roughly. But he's just so excited!

"Woah," he says in awe, "These are awesome..."

Even though he's a bit rough and inexperienced, it still feels good. The way his bony fingers squeeze and prod, along with how he runs his fingers over your nipples with curiosity.

"Gyutaro..." you whisper as you caress his cheek and pull him closer, "Come here." Pulling him into a heated kiss, it's obvious he doesn't know what to do. But you try your best to guide him.

He whimpers into the kiss as you slide your tongue into his mouth. He tries to reciprocate but he's quite sloppy.

Despite that, it still sends him to cloud nine. Not only is this his first kiss but he also gets to touch tits at the same time. It's so overwhelming for him that he feels like he's already going to cum.

Hastily shoving his hand down his boxers, he grabs the base of his cock and squeezes tightly - desperately trying to stop himself from cumming. He pulls away from the kiss and says, "T-Take off your panties, I-I wanna fuck you already."

With a devious smirk, you spread your legs as you remove your panties, showing him how wet you are. Gyutaro gulps, staring at you like a starving animal.

"I'm ready for you, Gyu," you coo as you lay on your back, completely submitting to him.

"Wait um... can we try doggy style?"

You're kind of surprised by his request but you don't mind so you flip over and get on your hands and knees.

Gyutaro would actually love to watch your face contort as he fucks you, but he chose doggy style because he doesn't want you to see him while he does it. Even after everything you've said to him his insecurities are still there. And a part of him fears that if you see his dick then you'll change your mind about this. He's not the biggest, but he definitely isn't small either. The size is actually really nice, but he's so insecure that he can't see that. But the worst part is the birthmarks, he feels like his dick looks like he has some type of venereal disease even though he doesn't. So he figures it'd be best if you just didn't see it at all.

Once you're in the doggy position he feels comfortable enough to pull down his boxers. You feel the sticky, leaking tip nudge against you as he positions himself.

His brows furrow in frustration as he tries to find the right spot, his inexperience showing.

"Here, let me help you," you say in a sweet tone as to not upset him or sound judgmental. Though he's still a bit embarrassed anyway.

Reaching between your legs, you grasp his shaft and gently guide him inside of you. Once he's an inch or two inside, he gets too excited and fully thrusts forward. Jolting his needy cock into your gummy walls. You yelp in response while Gyutaro moans loudly.

"F-Fuck... ngh Y/N, you feel so goddamn good," he groans in pleasure as he tightens his grasp on your hips.

After a moment of stillness, he starts thrusting when he feels like he won't cum immediately. But it's not long before that sensation comes back.

Only after a few thrusts, do you feel a warmth spread inside of you as you feel Gyutaro's thighs begin to shake.

"Did you- did you cum?" Surprised, you look back at him to see the blissful expression on his face.

But your words quickly snap him out of it, "Shit... m'sorry," he pants, obviously feeling ashamed and embarrassed, "I-I didn't mean to cum so fast."

He quickly shoves his dick back in his boxers, trying to hide his shame as he hangs his head and refuses to look you in the eye. The only chance he got to have sex, he ruined it by cumming too fast like the incel that everyone says he is. He looks down at the writing on his body, starting to feel like all of those insults from earlier are justified.

Seeing the shift in his mood, you quickly put your panties back on and hug him. "Hey it's ok, it was your first time. That just means we'll have to do it more so you can get used to it."

"R-Really? You don't think I'm pathetic...?" he whimpers in disbelief.

"Of course not, I still had a lot of fun," you smile and kiss his cheek, "Maybe I can stay the night and we can try again in the morning."

"I'd fucking love that."

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲

ji changmin x gn!reader

1.3k words, est. relationship au, hurt/comfort, minor fluff but more angst?, a bit of silliness, mentions of work pressures, neck kisses, intimacy, mentions of playful biting, pretty much not beta'd or proofread (past my bedtime; written in an hour)

a/n: @kimsohn saw some of the goofiness first <3 ily (*breathes in deeply* idk what im doing guys. anyways, this belongs in the category labeled "i get yappy and sappy when im existentially exhausted")

In the dark, the clock on top of the oven screamed “3:22AM” in angry, red light. You stumbled past it, vision blurry and footsteps as quiet as you could make them against the hardwood. Your bones ached to the marrow and you could feel the blood throbbing violently in your skull; you could not sleep.

It had been three hours of tossing and turning before you completely gave up and slipped out into the kitchen. Usually, it wasn't too difficult for you to fall asleep, but alas, there would always be exceptions.

You managed to find the opened bag of tangerines on the kitchen counter, the orange, wiry mesh already torn from the last person who'd grabbed one to snack on. As your eyes grew accustomed to the dark, you dug your nail into its skin and began to peel it open.

Through your daze, you just barely registered the sound of the bedroom door opening—footsteps followed after and came closer; they weren't trying to stay quiet like you were, as there wasn't any reason to anymore. Hands patted you down from your shoulders to your arms until they could settle comfortably around your waist; his body slid flush against your back like a puzzle piece, still warm from being in bed. Hair tickled the underside of your jaw as he nestled his chin into the crook of your shoulder, the ghost of his breath fanning across your skin like a caress, relieved.

“Did I wake you?” You murmured, forcing yourself awake a little as you felt him lean more of his weight against you.

A low hum. “Bed got cold.”

The corners of your mouth tilted upward as you stuck a piece of fruit into your mouth—it was summer; the bed couldn't have been cold. Juice spilled over your tongue in a comfortingly sweet tang, and you went for another. “Sorry, love. Do you want some?” You asked, holding onto a piece of tangerine.

“Mm-mm,” Changmin hummed, shaking his head with a slight movement. You felt his arms give your body a squeeze. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice small.

You shoveled the remainder of the tangerine half into your mouth, hands reaching for another one to keep yourself busy as you chewed, then swallowed. “Tired.”

“Is it the thing?”

Just the thought of the thing—the project you were given charge of at work—made you wish the ground would swallow you up. Your hands stilled on the orange.

The project was the first you were given a manager role for, as they thought it appropriate because you came up with the idea, but it seemed to only be an excuse to overload you with every Herculean task they could think of. You were practically chained to your cubicle desk until day's end, only leaving to go to the bathroom and attend another god forsaken meeting. Where home was supposed to be for rest, you were often slumped over the dining table, stressing yourself silver.

The thought of Monday… no, you couldn't think of Monday. You'd gone so long working on this thing—how could they make you loathe an idea that you proposed?

At your lack of an answer, there came a small breath against your neck. His thumb gently rubbed your side back and forth, the ebb and flow of the tide. “I'm sorry, baby. I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm proud of you.”

“It does mean something,” you countered quietly, and moved one of your hands to place it over his that rested over your stomach. “I'm just—I hate it here sometimes.”

The two of you seemed to sigh at once, your chests raising up then deflating in tandem. It made the knots in your shoulders loosen for just a moment, and you could release some of the strain keeping you tight and awake.

“One more,” he coaxed lowly. “In—”

You both slowly pulled air up through your nose to fill the caverns in your chests.

“—Out.”

As all things came and went, so too did this breath.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips pressing something sweet against your throat.

You were too tired to cry, but you might have just then. Sometimes it was just a project, but other times it was everything to you. It was born from your two hands, your brains, your back, your bones. Plenty of blood, sweat, and tears had seeped into every proposal and presentation, but you could never tell if it was enough. Would it ever be enough?

Changmin's head shifted as you snuck another piece of orange past your lips. “Remember,” he said, “when we were in college, and I let you text girls on my Hinge?”

Your mouth sweetened into a smile at the memory. “It was only because I let you text the guy who'd given me his number.”

“He was so lame—he clearly just wanted you to go see that new Stephen King movie so he could hold your hand.” You could feel him roll his eyes in the dark, though his voice remained syrupy with sleep.

You held back a snort. “That's the point, hon. If I remember correctly, the pick-up lines I used on those girls actually worked.”

“Crazy.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. You chewed on the next piece of fruit, swallowing it down before speaking again. “At least one of us has game.”

You felt the light pressure of his teeth against your shoulder, and you let out a surprised laugh. You didn't jerk away though—awfully used to your partner's strange language of affection—but you did push back against his forehead in lighthearted reprimand. “We talked about the biting.”

“Yeah, and you said you liked it.”

It was a good thing you didn't have fruit in your mouth. You warmed the slice of orange in your palm as you let the heat leave your cheeks and your neck. He could undoubtedly feel how flushed you were, and he seemed to preen at it.

“Gotcha,” he said smugly, and the smile on his lips molded against your skin as he left a kiss behind your ear. He nuzzled his nose there, too, fingers dancing along your side.

“I love you,” he said next. These words were quiet again. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You knew he meant the state he found you in—hunched over in the dark, eyes glazed over, and dread thrashing in your ears to fill the silence. The laughter that lit up your face just now had been his doing, his attempt at easing all of that burden.

You laid your head against his. “I love you, too.” You hated feeling this way, but some things had to be done. You had to see this one through, and you would.

“Don't run yourself ragged for this,” he said, as if reading your mind. “Can't let you lose yourself.”

The corners of your eyes prickled, your vision going blurry again. Your chewing slowed and you finished the last of the orange in your hands to clear the way for him to grab your fingers to intertwine them with his. He rocked your bodies slowly, dreamily—he was the gentle swaying of the waves beneath the raft you laid upon—and he was keeping you above water.

“Senior year of high school—” a miniscule break in his own voice, “—when college decisions came out… you didn't speak for so long, didn't eat. It was so quiet, and I—I didn't know how to help you.” Back then, the two of you were only labeled as best friends; you still hadn't decided if what you had back then was what you had now, but it was love in some form of the word and feeling. You supposed in every phase of knowing Ji Changmin, what you felt for him was love. “Can I help you now, please? How can I help you?”

You sucked in a breath and it came out trembling. “I'm just tired.”

“Yeah.”

“Just—that’s all. Just be here with me.”

You could feel his slight nod that turned into a tuck into your shoulder. Your pulse fluttered beneath the brush of his lips, his hands tightening around you. (I'm not going anywhere, not without you.)

In a night quickly dissolving into daylight, he held you and held you and held you.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @kflixnet @bjnet

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter TEN.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, implied sexual content, maybe breaking the law just a liiittle, fluff! cheese!, prius slander, too many italics || sfw. 6.1k words.

“WHAT THE FUCK did you do?” Ieiri demands, standing beside you on the sidelines. She doesn’t look at you when she says it, both of you unable to tear your eyes away from what’s happening on the court.

Going into the fourth game of the series, the Samurai had two wins to the Sorcerers’ one. There is not a bone in your body that isn’t confident your team will make a comeback now.

The disjointed team from the last game is nowhere to be found. These guys play like they came out of the womb with basketballs in hand. It’s fucking insane, and you can tell the rest of them are also wondering what changed, because they seem as shocked as Ieiri.

Except for Megumi, who looks at you only once and gives you a firm, approving nod.

“Later,” you tell Ieiri, because too much happened last night to explain right now. Now she does turn to face you, gaze calculating.

“Rephrase,” she says slowly. “Who the fuck did you do?” But the teasing lilt to her tone means she is very much aware already.

“Ieiri!” Your face flushes red and you stare resolutely at the court, avoiding her gaze. It doesn’t help, because instead you find yourself watching Satoru, grinning as he dunks and hangs on the hoop for a second just to show off. He turns to find you on the sideline and gives you a goofy smirk, and you can’t help smiling back.

God, you can never tell Ieiri what happened in your office last night.

You both wound up at your apartment eventually, and he asked you first why your walls weren’t decorated with posters of him and second if this was more than a one-night stand.

“What do you think?” you asked, and he looked more hesitant than you’d ever seen him before.

“I think I want to be able to kiss you every day for the rest of my life,” he said.

The words have been on a loop in your mind ever since.

Honestly, you thought finally doing something about the tension between you and Satoru would snap it, eliminate the amount of irrational headspace he was taking up, but it hasn’t. It’s just made you spend every waking moment thinking about the feeling of his lips on your skin, your name in his mouth.

And now that you’ve aired out the unspoken feelings, it’s like you don’t want to spend a second away from him—not just in the physical sense, but talking to him, teasing him, having actual, genuine conversations. How did he worm his way into your life so fast?

It wasn’t that fast, you realize belatedly. It maybe took five years.

You may owe Kasumi an apology. Or not, because she’s going to have a god complex when she finds out.

Finds out what, though? That you slept with him? That you don’t hate him? What is he, your boyfriend? You don’t really know where to go from here.

The Sorcerers beat the Samurai by a solid twenty-two, and as the players shake hands and do that weird bro-hug-back-slap thing in the aftermath, Nobara appears in front of you.

“Was I right?” she asks. “Or was I right?” Her self-satisfied smirk would annoy you if there wasn’t so much warmth in her eyes, like she’s happy you finally figured this out, or at least happy that the team is back on track. You roll your eyes and wave her off, and she and Ieiri start stage whispering about you as if you’re not standing right there.

“Miss Managerrrr,” Satoru calls as he bounds over to you. “Hey.”

You feel like you’re supposed to compliment him or something, but his ego also doesn’t need to be any bigger than it already is, so you smirk at him and say, “Can’t believe you just stood and there and watched Yuji make the last dunk.”

His jaw drops, and he bends over himself like you’ve punched him in the gut. “I can never make you proud,” he gripes, and you snort and ruffle his hair while his head is within your reach.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly. He looks up and smiles like he’s finally won your praise.

“Hey,” he says after a minute, glancing around to make sure Ieiri and Nobara aren’t prying anymore. “Let me take you out tonight.”

Just like that, your heart’s stuttering and stumbling over itself like it was last night. “On a date?”

“No, on a guided walking tour,” Satoru says. “Yes, a date.”

You raise a brow as if considering. “We have a flight in the morning.”

“I do not see the problem.”

The thing is, you really don’t know what to expect out of an actual date with Satoru. The heated, physical release of the tension between you was one thing. Romance is another.

But you can’t deny that you want to see him tonight. The alternative is going home to your lonely apartment and crashing early before your morning flight.

“Fine,” you say, and then Kento calls for Satoru to get a move on, and he’s sprinting down the hall, leaving you flustered in his wake.

“Office. Now,” Ieiri says, crossing her arms over her chest and leveling you with a glare that says you can’t argue. Nobara stands knowingly beside her, and you sigh, resigning to yourself to an explanation.

But being in your office again makes you think of what you spent last night doing, and you find yourself unable to meet Ieiri’s gaze as you tell her and Nobara what Yaga told you, that Satoru got you the job, and that you’d found him in the gym and shot hoops with him and eventually wound up making out with him against a wall and yes, fine, you got laid.

“Your place or his?” Nobara asks, and you hesitate two seconds too long. Her face goes white and she makes an ungodly screeching noise and squeals, “Here? Did you do it in here? Oh my god! You desecrated this place of work—”

You tune out her rambling, planting your forehead on your desk as the heat floods your cheeks, and then you realize Ieiri is actually just straight-up cackling.

“You live,” she gasps between fits of laughter, “not ten minutes away. You couldn’t just—” And she’s gone again, bent over herself and clutching her stomach as she wheezes. “Oh my god.”

“We did,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. “After.”

This sets Ieiri off again, and Nobara looks one more sentence away from passing out.

“So are you… friends with benefits? Or what is this?” she finally asks. “Are you dating?”

You shrug. “He’s… taking me out tonight,” you admit. Just like that, Nobara seems to forget all about her crisis about the office and starts barraging you with questions about when and where is he taking you and what are you wearing and do you think he’s a romantic and you’re repeatedly telling her you don’t know the answer to any of her questions, because you don’t.

It feels like hours that they keep you there, grilling you about the finer details of how you and Satoru ended up together last night, and then your phone finally buzzes and rescues you from the conversation.

six: imma come get you at 7

You show Nobara so she at least has one answer and then type out a response.

you: where are we going?

six: who do you take me for? a fool?

six: i’m not telling you shit

six: women love surprises

“Women love surprises,” Nobara mocks, lowering her voice in a horrible impression of Satoru. “Who’s women? The entire female population? The whole of the dating pool? I hate surprises.”

“I’ll let him know,” you say, and before she can stop you, you’ve sent:

you: nobara would like you to know this is not true of all women

six: WHAT

six: are these messages being screened by the council

six: hello kugisaki. hello shoko. my intentions are pure

“Tell him I’ll shovel talk him later,” Ieiri says, looking over your shoulder. “With an actual shovel. I’m coming prepared.”

You haven’t felt like this in a long time, talking about boys with your friends, showing them your messages, hypothesizing about a date. Spilling the details about a kiss. And then a lot more than a kiss.

“Go,” Ieiri shoos you off a while later, when it becomes clear you’re itching to get home and ready for wherever the hell Satoru’s taking you tonight.

You grab your bag and head toward the door, Ieiri and Nobara making no move to follow. “Are you gonna stay in here and talk shit?”

“Yes,” Nobara says sweetly. “Yes, we are.”

—

You've never been in Satoru’s car before. You knew he drove some expensive ass sports car, but right now you’re particularly glad it’s not a Prius, because you could never kiss him again if it was.

It’s a sleek, white Audi. “R8,” he says proudly, like you give a shit. He doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you. He wears a light blue button-down that makes his eyes look criminally good.

“You look nice,” he tells you, and you can’t fight the smile. You’re not wearing anything fancy, just jeans and a cute black shirt, but the way Satoru did a double-take when he showed up at your door tells you he means it.

“Eyes on the road, Six,” you tease. As he navigates the familiar intersections and streets of the city, you try to guess where you’re going, but keep coming up short. Eventually, he pulls into a dark parking lot and makes a questioning humming sound, and you turn in your seat to look at him.

He’s looking at the gates of the place he’s taken you, and the fact that they’re very obviously closed. You squint in the darkness to make out the sign illuminated by a single floodlight.

The botanical gardens close at four. Every day.

It appears Satoru was not aware.

“So, how good are you at hopping fences?” he asks innocently, and your laugh bubbles unbidden past your lips, short and surprised.

“You brought me on a date to commit crime,” you say.

“In my defense,” Satoru says, holding up a finger, “I did not know they were closed. Because I did not look it up.”

“Very thorough,” you say, looking up at the fence. “Are you for real, though?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a fence. They should know it wouldn’t keep me out. It’s their fault, really.”

“Yes, because the landscape engineers of a botanical garden were primarily thinking of what an NBA player would do after hours.”

“Exactly.”

You get out of the car and follow Satoru to the front gate. It’s taller than he is, but the fence a few yards down becomes shorter.

He scales the fence like it’s nothing, landing on the other side and giving you a grin that looks like a challenge.

“Showoff,” you mutter, taking a step back. You give yourself a running start and grab the top of the fence with both hands, using the momentum to swing your legs over and land beside Satoru. The landing has you stumbling back a bit, and suddenly his hands are on your waist, steadying you.

“Thanks,” you mutter sheepishly.

“We’d make great spies.”

“That will never be true.” You grin at his dramatic frown and take his hand in yours. “Lead the way, since you’re such a great date planner.”

He obliges, heading off between two tall hedges to the right, saying, “I feel like that was sarcasm.”

The moon is high and near-full, casting the hedges and flowers in a silvery halo. Neither of you have any idea where you’re going, so you breathe in the beauty as you wander. His hand is warm in yours and eventually he drops it to wrap his arm around your shoulders, sending a shiver down your spine.

“So, Miss Alley-oop, D1 baller and manager supreme.” You snort at the titles. “Tell me about you.”

“What?”

“Tell me about you,” he says again. “I know you played in college. I know about your career. I know you would probably choose Megumi’s dogs over me. But what else?”

Something warm takes root inside of you, like it did when he said he wanted to see you in one of his shirts. It’s something trilling and bright, that knowledge that he wants to understand you, that he actually cares to listen.

So you tell him. You tell him about growing up, about college, about your friends, the move from San Diego, your family, your favorite color and your music taste and how grateful you are to have Ieiri and Nobara here. And he tells you about himself, too, about his stupid-rich family and his basketball scouting and high school with Geto and Utahime.

You don’t know how long the two of you walk around, just talking. You make your way around the dark gardens, weaving around groves of small trees and colorful flower beds and small koi ponds.

“I think I am a great date planner,” Satoru says eventually. “This is way more romantic when it’s illegal.”

You snort. “Is that gonna be a trend?”

“In our innumerable future dates, is that what you’re saying?”

Your laugh is soft, floating through the night-tinged air. “I suppose,” you say. “What’s that mean, then? What is this?”

The two of you come to a stop in a circular clearing with a fountain in the center, softly gurgling while the coins on the bottom make murky, circular patterns. You perch on the edge of it and preemptively decide to warn Satoru, “If you push me in I’ll actually steal your car and leave you here.”

He grins, which means the thought definitely crossed his mind.

When he sits down beside you something in the air shifts, and he turns to you with uncharacteristically solemn eyes. “What is this,” he echoes. “I guess… whatever you want it to be?”

But you think about what he told you, about how he pushes people away. About how he makes it easy to hate him. You want to know if he’ll back out. “I want to know what you want it to be.”

“I think,” he says after a while, not breaking eye contact, “I would really like to be your boyfriend, if that’s something that won’t destroy your resume.”

You snort. “I’m not putting you on my resume.”

“I am now reconsidering.”

You grin and lean into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of whatever purple flowers are dotted around the edges of this clearing. “I would like that,” you say.

“Oh, thank god,” Satoru breathes, and you laugh again. He makes you laugh more than you usually do. “Because when you didn’t immediately say yes I almost threw myself into the fountain.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Do you want out?”

“Satoru.” You swat at him and sit back, putting your hands on his shoulders and forcing him to look at you. “If I wanted out, I wouldn’t be here. And I’m not gonna keep telling you that, so get it through that thick skull of yours now. I want you.”

He grins, slow and wide. “You can’t just say shit like that. It makes me wanna make out with you.”

“What’s stopping you?” You trail your fingers down his arm, lacing your fingers together. You lean in and whisper in the shell of his ear, “Do I make you nervous?”

“For real?” Satoru asks, huffing out a laugh. He squeezes your hand. “You are… so wildly out of my league that I didn’t even think you would—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“What?”

You blink. “You’re serious!”

“Wh—yes, I’m serious! What, I try to be romantic and you—”

You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him toward you, shutting him up by pressing your lips to his.

“Oh,” he says, stupidly, when you let him go.

“Yeah, oh.”

You wait a beat. “I’m not out of your league. We quite literally work for the same league, actually.”

“Oh. My god.”

“Now. Why did you take me to a forbidden garden if you weren’t gonna kiss me senseless?”

“I fucking love the way you think,” he mutters, and he pulls you to your feet and leads you toward the bench on the opposite side of the small clearing. Before you can really register what’s happening, you’re leaning back on the bench and he’s straddling you with his knees, pulling you into a deep kiss that has your breath stuttering in the back of your throat.

Shit. You feel like you could do this forever.

You slide your hands up his back until you reach his neck and pull him in closer, teeth clashing, and when you pull back to breathe all you can focus on is the way the moon outlines Satoru’s hair and face in silvery-white and god, he’s attractive.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, like it’s a secret.

“You—”

“Hey!” The both of you stand up ramrod straight like scolded schoolchildren as a flashlight beam pins you in place, and you clap a hand over your mouth. There’s a night security guard standing between the hedges and the fountain, looking mildly irritated but mostly just exhausted.

“Oh, shit,”you mutter.

“Hey there,” Satoru calls, striding over to the security guy like they’re old friends. “So sorry to bother you. How’s your evening been?”

The guy looks up at him for a long moment, somewhere between I don’t get paid enough for this shit and I’m going to call the cops just because you’re being a dick about this. And then his jaw slackens as recognition flashes across his face.

“Holy shit,” the guy says. “You’re Satoru Gojo.”

“Ah, a fan!” Satoru grins, and waves you over. It feels like a walk of shame. You can’t believe he’s being so chill about this.

Actually, yes you can.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say honestly. “We really weren’t doing anything cra—”

“This is my girlfriend,” Satoru interrupts, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and the word dissolves the rest of the sentence before it can leave your mouth. You kind of love when he says it. This is my girlfriend. “She’s also the top-notch manager of the Sorcerers.” He glances down at you, and you immediately realize where he’s going with this.

“I’m sure between the two of us, we can fix you up with some home game tickets for your trouble,” you offer, and the guard’s face lights up. He looks relatively young, probably taking the night shift for some easy cash, but all of his exhaustion vanishes the moment you say tickets.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course!” Satoru says, clapping the guy on the back. “I don’t lie.”

“That’s not true,” you say, but fondly. “Yeah, just give me your name and email and I’ll hook you up.” You hand over your phone, open to the notes app, and the guy excitedly types in his information and hands it back to you.

“Well, that wound up being a lot less trouble than I’d hoped,” he says, sighing. “Thanks. Uh—I do need to escort you guys out, though.”

Satoru grins. “No problem.”

For the silent walk to the front gates, you’re torn between keeling over dead from embarrassment or bursting out laughing. This is insane. This is unreal.

At the gate, the security guard smiles hesitantly at the two of you as he undoes the lock and swings it open, gesturing as if to say after you.

“Thanks, pal,” Satoru says, and you sigh, long-suffering. You fix the guard with what you hope is a warm smile and thank him, promising again that you’ll send the tickets his way.

As soon as he’s closed the gates and turned his back, you and Satoru run back to his car, giggling like kids. You feel like a teenager sneaking out at night, high on the adrenaline of getting caught and not punished, and you collapse into Satoru’s passenger seat in a heap of disbelief and laughter.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, when you can finally breathe. “Jesus.”

Satoru starts the car and takes a moment to press his forehead to the steering wheel, still losing it. “I’m such a good date planner. We should always commit crime on dates.”

“No,” you say loudly, shoving at his shoulders, and he lifts his head and grins at you before pulling you into another deep kiss.

“Come over,” he whispers when he pulls back, lips inches from yours.

You have a flight in the morning.

You find you don’t particularly care.

“Okay.”

—

You wake up late.

Granted, late today means 5:30 in the morning, but you have to be at the airport soon. Luckily, you had the foresight to grab your packed bag from your place last night before crashing at Satoru’s.

Well, other things came before the crashing part.

“Satoru!” You shake him by the shoulders, interrupting his snoring. “Get the fuck up. We have to go.”

He groans, flipping over and burying his face in the pillow. “Don’t wanna.” You have no idea how he manages to get himself out the door on time on his own.

“Well, guess I’m driving the Audi.”

That has him shooting out of bed, scrambling for a change of clothes and his keys. “I’m awake,” he says, but it sounds more like m’wake, and he looks like he might fall asleep standing up.

“Get a move on,” you say, and swat him on the shoulder before making your way to the kitchen.

Satoru’s apartment is nice, and surprisingly homey—you’d expect a disorganized guy who travels so much to have a pretty minimalistic setup, maybe with dirty clothes all over the place, but it’s actually pretty cozy. On the coffee table there’s a framed picture of Megumi and Tsumiki with the dogs, and he even has a cactus on the windowsill.

“From Tsumiki,” he explains as he finally makes it out to the kitchen and follows your line of sight. “She said even I can’t kill it.”

You hum, pulling him in for a kiss, and then say, “I think she’s underestimating you.”

His sleep-addled brain takes a moment for him to realize it was an insult, and when he does he groans dramatically and says, “You hate me.”

“Yeah.”

But he picks up your bag where you left it by the door and carries it as the two of you bolt out to the car.

You arrive at the private hangar with two minutes to spare, and the rest of the team is already there.

“I was just about to call you,” Ieiri says when you get out of Satoru’s car. And then she processes the fact that you just got out of Satoru’s car. She snickers, and you give her a glare that says shut up and she gives you a look that says I will not.

The team is gathered in front of the jet making idle morning conversation (except for Ino and Toge, who both look two seconds away from sleep), but they still when you and Satoru approach with Ieiri.

Oh. You really didn’t consider this.

“Hard launch, I guess,” you mutter, and Ieiri smirks.

Kento’s eyes widen ever so slightly, which is probably the most surprised you’ve ever seen him. He’s a fairly stoic person—that subtle change of expression might as well equate to the absolute squawk that comes out of Nobara’s mouth.

“Oh my god,” she says, practically jumping up and down. “Oh my god. I knew it!” And then Yuji is joining her, bouncing off the nonexistent walls, but his response is less of an I knew it and more of a holy shit I did not see this coming in a million years. You wonder how he and Megumi ever became a thing. Yuji might be the single most oblivious person you’ve ever met.

Megumi grabs him by his bright red hood until he stops jumping. You make eye contact with him across the haphazard circle the team has formed, and he gives you the smallest smile. His gaze locks onto your shirt, and you look down and realize it's Satoru's. You threw it on with leggings and a loose zip-up in the chaos of this morning.

Megumi catches Satoru’s eye, and they have some convoluted conversation with their expressions that you can’t decipher, but they both seem satisfied by the end of it.

“Hey, okay,” Hakari says, narrowing his eyes and pointing between the two of you. “What the fuck is that? Are you a thing?” He looks at Satoru. “Did you pull?” In response, Satoru wraps his arm around you, and when you don’t protest, Hakari’s lips part soundlessly in disbelief. “Okay, damn.” He turns to you. “You’re not under duress?”

“Excuse you,” Satoru says, and you laugh and shake your head. On your left, Yuta and Toge exchange a loaded glance that you’re pretty sure means they’ve placed bets on this before.

Hakari shrugs. “Well. Okay, then. Whatever.”

Junpei’s mouth has formed a small O. At Kento’s shoulder, Ino is now wide awake, tapping him frantically on the arm like he isn’t seeing the exact same thing. Yaga is utterly unfazed. And Kusakabe, for his part, just gives you a once-over and then asks Yaga, “Is that an HR issue or are we fine?”

“Okay,” you say loudly, checking your watch. “On the jet. Let’s go. Places to be.” The team obediently files up the stairs and Ieiri ruffles your hair teasingly before following suit. As Ino ascends the steps, he turns and flashes both of you two thumbs up with the biggest goofy smile.

“That went well,” Satoru says. But the team’s reactions have you thinking about the utter rage that you know Utahime will be in when she sees, and that makes you think of something else.

“I don’t think we should be obvious about this in Savannah,” you say slyly. “Like—okay. Think about this. They know us well enough to figure it out, and it’ll be fine, and they’re not gonna go blabbing about it. But publicly, we wait until San Diego, and then we have some horrible public display of affection right in front of Geto, just to shove it in his face that his shit didn’t work.”

“Oh my god,” Satoru says slowly, as the two of you enter the cabin of the jet. “You are a fucking menace.” He grins. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

It’s a short flight, and before you know it the game is in full swing on the Samurai’s home court. Ten minutes in, things are going well for the Sorcerers. The game is evenly matched, but you’ve managed to pull ahead by a few.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to read a text from a number you don’t recognize.

unknown number: hi!! this is tsumiki! megumi gave me your number, i hope you don’t mind

unknown number: i just wanted to let you know i heard about you and satoru and i’m THRILLED and if he ever hurts you i promise i’ll sick the dogs on him

You chuckle and add her to your contacts, then shoot a quick text back saying you appreciate it and she can text you anytime she wants, especially if she has embarrassing stories about Satoru and Megumi.

Nobara sidles up to you as the first quarter reaches its final minute. “I can’t fucking believe you,” she says. “Pulling up together with no warning.” She swats you on the shoulder playfully. “I have half a mind to start making edits of you and posting them on the official account.”

“I’ll actually enter the witness protection program.”

“You will not,” Nobara says as the both of you watch Todo almost knock Ino over. “Oh, god. Are his dramatics already rubbing off on you?” The buzzer goes off and the Sorcerers are in the lead. As Satoru makes his way off the court, he catches your eye over Kento’s shoulder and winks. You feel the heat rising unbidden to your cheeks and Nobara cackles.

Then Nitta texts you. From right across the court.

nitta: WHAT WAS THAT

nitta: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALLEY

nitta: !#)$##&#$#!

Nobara grabs your phone before you can respond, and despite your protests she starts texting Nitta. You watch your friend react live across the court, her jaw dropping, and then she turns to Utahime and whispers in her ear. Oh, here we go, you think.

Her entire face goes bright red in two seconds flat, and she gapes at you, and then at Satoru, and then she yanks Nitta’s phone out of her hands and starts texting you—or Nobara, really. You look at Nitta and shrug helplessly. God knows what they’re saying to each other right now.

“Tell her to keep it quiet for now,” you murmur to Nobara, and then relay your plan to her. She grins.

“That’s evil,” she says proudly. “I love it.”

In the second quarter, Megumi manages to dunk right over Haibara, sending the fans reeling. A few minutes later, Satoru makes a free throw and solidifies the lead.

After that, the game goes on without any particularly unusual events, the score mostly staying within ten points the entire time. But the Sorcerers win by seven, and now they’re 3-2.

One more win at home and the conference title is yours.

—

The two days leading up to the home game are go, go, go, but the business side of things is checkered with periodic updates from Akari about the Samurai’s response to your new relationship.

nitta: haibara said he feels like he missed 4 seasons of a tv show

nitta: he can’t believe gojo has a gf he was like ‘i need to sit down’

nitta: i think ijichi has just given up on practice being productive. they’re too gossipy

nitta: gakuganji doesn’t remember you are but tbh i don’t think he remembers who i am so

You honestly forgot Gakuganji’s name, so that’s fair. You’ve formed a bad habit of referring to him in your head as the old fart, and you’re scared one day you might say it out loud in front of his team.

Utahime found you after the game and practically fell to her knees asking why in god’s name you’d ever get with Gojo, and you told her you’re just fulfilling your duties as an Anti-Gojo Club member by taking him down from the inside. She knew you were lying, but when she watched the way he bounded up to you in the hall and ruffled your hair, she must’ve seen something in him that put her slightly more at ease.

Not that she’s happy about this turn of events. But she doesn’t hate you by proxy, at least.

nitta: DOES KASUMI KNOW

you: NO. DO NOT TELL HER

nitta: PLEASE LET ME TELL HER

you: AKARI. NO

“We’re hot news,” Satoru says over your shoulder, and you flick him on the forehead.

“Don’t hover,” you say.

He frowns. “But I’m so good at it.”

You swipe out of your thread with Akari and sigh. Geto hasn’t reached out since that initial text—most of you is thankful, but part of you is worried this means he’ll approach you in person again.

“No Suguru,” Gojo notes, and you nod, turning around and facing him, tucking your phone in your back pocket.

“Nope.”

“Can’t wait to make out with you in front of him.” You swat at him. “It was your plan!”

“Yeah, but it sounds obnoxious when you say it like that. And we don’t need to make out.”

“Ew,” he says in his lilting, teasing voice. “You want to have sex on the court? That’s kind of perverted—”

“I hate you,” you groan.

“Gojo!” Megumi shouts from down the hall, and you shove him away.

“Go do your job, dipshit.”

“I love when you call me pet names.” He plants a kiss on your temple and books it to the locker room, and you’re left standing in the center of your office, flushed and a little lightheaded from the affection.

You hear Nobara and Ieiri talking as they approach your office, so you clear your throat, flick off the lights, and meet them on their way to the gym.

“What do you think?” Nobara loops you into the conversation immediately. “We winning the series today?”

“With Gojo on his girlfriend high, yeah we are,” Ieiri says, and you snort.

Nobara’s still looking at you expectantly as the three of you enter the gym, and you catch sight of Satoru across the gym and admit, “Probably.”

Nitta sticks her tongue out at you from across the court and you wave happily. You tug the headset on and tune into Zenin’s updates.

“With the Sorcerers on an absolutely powerful win streak, these conference finals are looking close to an end,” she says in your ear. “On the other end of the bracket, we’ve got the Curses leading the Foxes series three to two. If they win tomorrow, they’ll face the winner of this series in the championships.”

“If not, we’ve got a lengthy rest of the series for the Foxes to make a comeback. Either way, we’re looking at an intense matchup for our final round,” Panda chimes in.

You grin. It’s not that you want to come face to face with your old team again, but you want to watch the Sorcerers destroy them. You want to see the look on Geto’s face when he realizes his plan backfired. You want your team to take the championship title. And you know they can.

The game launches into play and Satoru wins the tip-off against Noritoshi. A quick pass to Ino has the Sorcerers leading by two, and then Kento makes a fantastic block against Choso.

“Lookin’ good,” Ieiri comments, and you can’t take your eyes off the court. On the other side of the gym, Ijichi is talking frantically to Gakuganji, who looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“A great three-pointer from number zero, Megumi Fushiguro,” Zenin remarks, and Yuji whoops as he runs over to high-five Megumi for his shot. “Seven minutes into the quarter with the Sorcerers leading by five.”

Yaga and Kusakabe are murmuring urgently under their breaths to each other, still watching play on the court, and then Kusakabe smirks, the two of them seemingly having come to a decision.

When the first quarter ends, Yaga whispers something to Junpei and claps him on the back. The kid’s eyes are wide, and you realize he’s subbing him on for Ino without a substantial lead.

“You got it,” Kento tells Junpei firmly. “Don’t sweat it.”

Nobara raises a brow your way, like you understand the inner workings of Yaga’s mind, which you don’t. But with the rest of the starters on the court, Junpei doesn’t have to pick up anybody’s slack—and he plays really well, getting a good seven points in himself. By halftime, he’s stumbling off the court with a huge grin and thanking the coaches profusely while they wave him off, stifling their smiles.

Yuta, Toge, and Hakari all go on after the half and kick ass. Satoru subs out halfway through the third and sprays water directly in his face, panting. The water drips down the curve of his jawline and onto his shirt, and you watch his shoulders heave before you realize you’re staring and abruptly look away.

But looking away means you look right at Ieiri, and she thinks this is hilarious.

“Shut up,” you mutter, willing the red away from your cheeks.

“I didn’t say anything!” she protests.

The lead never exceeds ten points, but the Sorcerers take the win, and for a moment after the buzzer the gym is oddly still, like nobody has really processed what this means. And then Zenin shouts right in your ear, “The Sorcerers take their spot in the finals!” and all hell breaks loose.

“Yes!” Nobara screeches, and whips out her phone to film the team colliding in the center of the court, ecstatic.

And the thing is, it’s not just them. The Samurai swarm the team huddle, exhausted and sweaty and smiling, and Choso claps Yuji on the back, and Haibara’s laughing, and Todo’s grinning proudly, and you can’t fight your own smile at the sheer joy rippling across the gym.

The championship series.

You tear the headset off and Nobara drags you by the elbow out to the center court and into the huddle of hyped-up, sweaty players, and you’re laughing as you practically fall into the center of it, half-deaf on the exhilaration of the guys and the fans.

Satoru grabs you by the shoulders, and in the mass of people you aren’t worried about the cameras catching it, but honestly—you don’t even care if they do.

“We did it!” he shouts, and you grin, laughing out loud.

They did it. Your team did it.

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[psychickiss]

accident

— saiki kusuo x reader (no 3rd person pronouns, 2nd pov)

— summary: You and Saiki partner up for an assignment. Things go... not-smooth. Saiki lets you know he has powers in the worst way possible (to him).

— notes: never beta read hell yeah also there are mentions of cockroaches here and i hate them so its just one not-so-paragraph paragraph

— things: platonic maybe ooc you could see this as romantic whatevs

— masterlist | request form | retrospring

“Oh, Saiki! I didn’t know this was your house.” You smile warmly, but deep down you and Saiki both know that you knew where he lived.

“You’re joking, right? You’ve tagged along with Nendou, Kaidou, and I on the numerous occasions we walked home together.” Was what Saiki wanted to say. However, he couldn’t make any snarky comments at you whatsoever, not with his mother standing behind him.

“Ku? Is this another lovely friend of yours?”

Saiki gives you a blank glance then turns to his mother. “I guess.”

Saiki’s mother approaches you with a smile on her face, you look at her cheery expression then at Saiki’s lack of one. Polar opposites, you think. You quickly introduce yourself.

“You look lovely, Mrs. Saiki. It’s nice to meet you.”

She holds your hand gently and asks, “It’s nice to meet you too! What brings you here?”

You answer her, “I wanted to ask Saiki out.”

Saiki’s mother immediately lets go of your hand and gasps loudly. “On a date?! Do you and my Ku like each other?!”

You laugh awkwardly as you shake your head. “Goodness, no! Saiki doesn’t seem to have a romantic bone in his body.”

Well, you’re right about that. Saiki thinks to himself as he stands quietly while you talk with his mother.

“I just wanted to ask if he has a partner for our summer Pre-Calculus assignment, I was absent when it was assigned and most of the people I know have partners already. I’d text your son, but I don’t have his number– does he even have a phone?”

Saiki takes a step forward, closer to you and his mother. “I don’t have a partner yet, and Nendou wasn’t an option for me. Do you know what the assignment is?”

“If my memory serves me right, Hairo told me we had to find a partner and explain derivatives and anti-derivatives, then cite any problems with real-life situations.”

Saiki exhales, a small smile appears on his face for a second. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look nice at the action, rarely did Saiki smile, after all. You didn’t expect as well that he’d be smiling at you. “Your memory is quite well, then. We can do this in the public library.”

Saiki’s mother turns to him, frowning. “You’re not going to let your friend stay for drinks?”

Saiki shakes his head. “We can get drinks outside, thank you.” He turns to you and says, “Wait a minute. I’ll go grab my stuff. You could... talk to my mom while you wait.”

You shoot him a thumbs up and Saiki nods as well. He says something to his mother before heading up the stairs in their house.

“So, you and Ku are good friends?”

You turn to Saiki’s mother. “You could say that. He’s a pretty chill guy, and he listens to what people have to say.”

Saiki’s mother’s face grows more cheerful than before. “I’m relieved to hear that...! He’s had a hard time making friends with his powers, being psychic and all.”

You laugh, taking every single word as a lighthearted joke. “Is he like Kaidou? I think it’s nice that you play along with his imagination. Ah, I’m sorry! I just went and assumed you knew him.”

Saiki’s mother awkwardly laughs before she answers you, “Mhm, yep! We have talked to Kaidou before, he’s a nice boy. The one with red bandages on his arm. He and Saiki are definitely friends for that!”

You nod. “Yep, he says it’s to “keep his powers at bay,” but we all know it’s fake, and we still play along. Well, some of us.” You point your index finger upwards and position your hands above your head.

“And I bet Saiki’s funky hair clips limit his powers too!” You heartily laugh. You don’t notice the way Saiki’s mother desperately keeps looking back at the stairs, waiting for her son to come down.

Powers? Please.

You see Saiki walking down the stairs and you quickly put your hands down. You ask him, “Shall we go?”

Saiki nods. You two say your goodbyes to his mother before leaving the house.

“Uhm, were you serious about the whole “getting drinks outside” thing?” You ask. Saiki looks at you confused for a second.

Ah. The thing he said to his mother earlier. He answers you, “If you want to. It’s fine by me.”

You shrug. “I could go for some coffee right now. You?”

Saiki stops to walk and looks at you. He doesn’t really know what to reply, so he stays quiet.

“Straight to the library is alright.”

You both walk side-by-side on your way to the library, not saying anything. You aren’t too nervous, and your thoughts are mostly related to the assignment and how you wish to get it completely over with so you could relax. Saiki shares the same sentiment.

You and Saiki finally arrive at the library– it’s quiet and not too crowded, so there were lots of empty seats for you two to occupy. The whole place seemed a little unclean but you two didn’t mind. You both opted for the most secluded area possible.

You sit down and look at the empty chair beside you, then at Saiki, who is still standing up. “You aren’t going to sit down yet?”

Saiki shakes his head. “I’m going to go look for books we could use as references.”

You slowly nod. “Okay, thanks.” Saiki nods back and walks off to search for books.

You place your bag on the table before you and take out the stuff you figured you two would need – ballpens, paper, etc.

...

This assignment is fucking killing me...

“Hey, Kusuo, do you know how many of these we should be writing down?”

“18. With proper citation. APA format. Also, Kusuo?”

You groan. You drop your pen for a second and shake your hand, exhausted from continuous writing and page-turning. 3 problems left...

You say to Saiki, “I didn’t know you were left-handed,” as you cracked your fingers. He nods in response. “Also, calling you by your name just felt natural.”

18 is such a weird number of problems to require, to be honest. I’m glad we don’t have to solve it ourselves.

You exhale and look at your surroundings. Come to think of it, this library looks pretty old. Probably why there aren’t a lot of people today. I’m glad there aren’t any cockroaches.

As you babble on with your thoughts, Saiki stops writing, the thought of a roach interrupting his work mortifies him.

Usually there’d be a roach or two in places like these, especially in Saiki’s and my spot. It’d be pretty funny if one did come crawling or flying around here–

Horrendously perfect timing and the worst of luck bestows you and Saiki as a large cockroach appears itself in front of you, it crawls its disgusting little legs on one of the books next to you.

You and Saiki act immediately and irrationally.

You cover your mouth with one hand to stop yourself from squealing and have an instant grip on Saiki’s sleeve with the other, and;

Saiki, figuring since he’s in a secluded area, teleports far, far away from the cockroach... with you.

...

You stare at your surroundings, slowly lowering your hand from your mouth. Your other hand still on Saiki’s sleeve, you give him a slight pinch.

Good grief. It was Saiki’s turn to stop you from screaming.

WHAT THE FUCK!!!! WHERE ARE WE!!!!!! HOW DID WE GET HERE!!!!!

“Shut up.”

You shakily ask, “Huh? I didn’t say anything... God, don’t tell me you can hear thoughts too...”

Saiki takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

LIAR.

“Fine. I can.”

You step away from him. “Are you... serious?”

Saiki stares at you with the same blank expression he always wore.

Oh my God.

“Does anyone else know? Where are we?”

Saiki answers, “Toritsuka, Aiura, they both have powers, and Akechi, due to his stubbornness and intelligence. I think we are somewhere on the other side of the world... Paris”

“That’s crazy... PARIS?”

Saiki nods.

You smile mischievously, “We should ditch our homework.”

Saiki doesn’t respond. You can feel his judginess through his unwavering stare at you without a word spoken. Jesus, do you blink?

Saiki blinks and you frown.

“Come on! We’re in Paris! City of love! Don’t they have pretty cafés here? We should eat a bunch of baked goods.”

“We don’t have any money.”

You click your tongue. ... Right. “It’s back to our stupid assignment, I guess.” You tug on the back of his shirt. “To Japan.”

“Wait.” Saiki crosses his eyes. You try your best not to question the action. “The coast is clear. Let’s go.”

In an instant, you two were back at the library.

You remember your words from earlier. Power limiters... Don’t tell me they’re real... Oh God, you probably know about me making fun of your hairpins earlier...

“They’re real.”

You whisper angrily, “I get that you can hear my thoughts but wait for me to actually say it out loud!”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Let’s just finish this and maybe finally get coffee, yeah?”

Saiki nods.

An hour or two passes and you two are finally done with your shared assignment.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, what other powers do you have?”

Your bag floats towards you. “Telekinesis.”

A small flame ignites on the tip of Saiki’s index finger. “Pyrokinesis.”

Saiki removes an incredulous thin glove from his hand and touches one of the books you two had used. “Psychometry. This book was returned just the other day.” He quickly wears the glove, and it amazes you how it seems like nothing is even there.

Saiki holds up his notebook and a ¥500 coin appears in its place. “Apport. It lets me exchange items of the same value.”

“Okay. Can we teleport to a café?”

Saiki shakes his head.

“Come on! You have powers and you won’t use them like that?”

He shakes his head at you again. “Have you ever seen me use my powers at school before?”

You shake your head. “I guess I see why... You’d probably be popular if you did, in a good way and bad way. Has it been like that since... well, the start?”

Saiki nods.

“Ah... I’m sorry.” Saiki doesn’t say anything else. In an attempt to break the silence, you ask, “Café, then?”

He nods again. “I could buy coffee jelly.”

“No. Allow me to treat you to coffee jelly, as thanks for letting me in on a secret this big.”

“If telling people I’m psychic meant getting free coffee jelly, I’d probably tell the world.”

“It’s not worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

[t0ast-ghost]

S3 EP24 (The Turnabout Intruder) I can’t believe I’m here. At the end. This is the last thought post.

Let’s go already:

- Awww they’re beaming down together

- Leaving Kirk alone with a woman…

- An episode directly calling out sexism? More likely than you think?

- “We would have killed each other.” “Might have been better.” Hot

- Is this set on Friday cause that’s pretty freaky

- I’ll miss you Star Trek opening (I’m going to rewatch this show idk what I’m talking about)

- Obsessed with Kirk talking that way omg

- Something about transitioning or whatever

- They should know it’s not actually Kirk cause he didn’t do his dramatic ass communicator flip

- The actress doing a great job at playing Kirk (just body language at this point but it’s already spot on)

- Kirk’s ass uhmmm

- Woah Bones is going to riot! There’s so much medical malpractice happening here

- Nurse Chapel with brown hair <3

- Lester is fucking up so bad impersonating Kirk. Like she didn’t even cross her leg over the other when she sat in the captains chair and she isn’t properly listening to Spock’s infodump :(

- Bones gets to have his riot. Wait. How does Lester know to call him Bones?

- Bones why would you lean over Kirk like that

- Kirk storming out of his own damn room

- Kirk’s ass analyzing something or other or what-

- She is so good at playing Kirk

- Guys. Listen. She is my queen. I love her. I adore her. And more than that I think she’s the coolest motherfucker alive.

- If I was Kirk I’d have slapped Coleman. No hesitation.

- Kirk’s gotta get in contact with one of his boyfriends

- Kirk is so good at putting on his charm. Like he’s so quick to panic about the ship but the charm is quickly regained

- *smashes the glass and cuts through restraints* bad fucking ass

- The boyfriends are ✨worried✨

- McCoy and Spock look so pretty

- Bones is going to kill Kirk. His blue eyes are murderous

- Spock using his ‘I’m that bitch’ privileges to get past security

- “Don’t get dressed yet.” McCoy out of context 1969

- SHE DID THE PERFECT KIRK SMILE

- A CALL BACK TO A PREVIOUS EPISODE?!? Tholian web mention?!? Woah.

- THATS GAY HOLY SHIT THATS GAY

- “Doctor McCoy may be of help.” Yeah go get your other boyfriend!

- The guard stopping them from exiting and then Spock looks over at Kirk like, ‘the audacity of this bitch. Should I just nerve pinch him, captain?’

- LMAO HE DOES NERVE PINCH HIM AND FAILS THE FIRST TIME WHAT A LOSER

- eugh Lester shaking Bones’ hand is so unnaturally uncomfortable

- Can’t bring Kirk to Bones, bring Bones to Kirk

- WAIT NO SPOCK AND KIRK ARE CANONICALLY HOLDING HANDS OMG

- McCoy’s eyeing Spock like what the fuck is happening to our boyfriend

- “Why…? Captain.” The spite Spock has

- McCoy hates being used against Spock like this

- How can William Shatner make those clicking noises with his mouth so casually

- “But her intense hatred of her own womanhood made life with her impossible.” This is like lady Macbeth

- Spock getting mad oooooooh

- Ohhh my god it’s so fundamentally sexist how Kirk is now ‘more emotional’ which could be a character choice but it feels so over the top and more like a ‘she’s a woman so this is how she acts’ choice

- Lester hates being a woman so much because of prejudices and stereotypes that she now perpetuates those same things onto others

- I love how many episodes have mutiny

- THEY GOT CAUGHT IMMEDIATELY LMAO

- “The penalty: death.” WHAT

- SULU AND CHEKOV CONVERSATION! They’re amazing

- Spock was just like, ‘we gotta be ready to slap a bitch’

- “Kill him!!!” no murder tonight for you Lester

And that’s just how they end the whole fucking show huh

I’m not sure if I’ll ever do something like this again for a show but this was a blast and I enjoyed every second of it. Thank you so much to everyone who has followed along. Every comment, reblog, and like has been appreciated.

However, I will be posting some bonus thoughts so keep a lookout for those :)

And as always Masterpost

Teleplay by Arthur H. Singer

Story by Gene Roddenberry

[amai-sakura-chan]

A lil more ame angst. I hope this makes sense

Summary: Daddy issues

🥳🥳

It was a rainy night, and most people chose to stay inside, family members huddled close together. The rain poured heavily outside, with the possibility of a storm looming. However, that's not our main focus here; let's turn our attention to a cherished girl named Ame. She lived alone for personal reasons.

"What if I decide to cook something tonight? The weather is too severe to order food, and I wouldn't want to trouble anyone by forcing them out in this weather. Yippee! Okay, so I'll need some—" she began before being interrupted by a ringing phone. "Someone's calling? Oh, it's Dad... why the fuck would he call me? Better pickup before he'll throw a tantrum"

She rushed to her phone, picked it up, and answered the call. "Hello! Hello!! Ame here." "Ame, I just heard about your most recent show and that it brought in more money than usual right?" her father asked through the phone. "What happened to 'hello'? How are you, my lovely daughter? It's been a while. None of that; let's get straight to the point—" "We are not playing games here!" he shouted from the other end. "You worthless child! Sometimes I even wonder why you exist. All you do is bring misfortune to this family."

"W-well, you're not any better than me; you also—" "SHUT UP! You are of no use here! I wonder why you're even in this family. Its liek you dont even try" "I have tried. You don't know how hard I've been trying," she replied, before hanging up, refusing to hear another word.

Despite her disdain for her father, his words still stung. "I'm glad I didn't allow myself to love him; if I had, this would hurt a lot more than it already does... i fucking hate him with every bone in my body" she said, lost in thought. Doing her best as to not let tears stream down her face. She was not going to let a man's words hurt her

Without another thought she grabbed her raincoat and decided to step outside "hope I don't get recognised I didn't wear any disguises" she said walking, as she passed a street she missed the the green stop sign switching to red as she continued to walk, too concentrated on the earlier call. 'That manipulative annoying fucking douchebag, I mean who does he think he is? I do more than he's ever done. I wish I had a caring father

She suddenly heard a sudden horse carriage run. "AMAI!-" was the last thing she heard before feeling herself get hit by the carriage. Weirdly enough, she didn't feel pain. She didn't know it's because she's already hurt enough her last thought before walking in a coffin was "I'm never trusting a guy ever again"

As she lay there, the world around her faded, and the echoes of her father's harsh words lingered in her mind. In that moment, she realized that the hurt she felt from the call had overshadowed everything else. "Maybe this is my escape," she thought, but deep down, she wished for a different ending. The rain continued to pour, washing away the remnants of her pain, but it couldn't erase the memories that haunted her. "I just wanted to be seen," she whispered, drifting into silence.

Tagging:

@blood-red-hummingbee @gimmeurmoneyagh @midnightmah07 @buttholesparkles @babyghoul138 @twtysevapr @oya-oya-okay @lallopsyou @faexriefly

[sheisaquarius-blog]

hi! for anthony’s day can you do something with ianthony getting together with jealous!anthony? btw i love your fics you’re so talented!!!

OH BOY CAN I, I LOVE JEALOUS ANTHONY!!! i'm sure you wanted something sweet and fluffy, but i am on my usual bullshit and made it long and angsty OTL sorry!!! i hope it's still an enjoyable read! and it ends happy!

ps- sorry i'm late! if you sent me an anthony's day prompt and i haven't posted it yet, you WILL see it! i just over estimated how fast i can write, but i'm going to fill each and every one!

Anthony thinks a lot. Not that other people don’t, he just suspects that they have an easier time turning off the faucet of thoughts, or at least letting it fade into the white noise of their minds. Anthony has trouble with that. A lot of trouble. Every one of his thoughts is loud and demanding and takes up the limited space he has in his brain. Most of the time it doesn’t bother him because he’s learned to make peace with a lot of it. He’s learned to acknowledge those thoughts for what they are and control them, channel them. Pain and anxiety were hard, but he’s managed. He has outlets, mantras, things that keep him firmly in reality when those thoughts start to overwhelm his mind and make him burn from the inside out.

His real problem is jealousy. Its roots are wrapped so deep in his bones he’d need to pull back the layers of calcium to extract the tendrils from his marrow where they nestle and feed off him. Pain and anxiety are water, they rain on him, he could drown in them if he isn’t careful, but in the end, they are things that pour over him. He fears his jealousy has always grown out of him, is intrinsic to him.

He hides it well for most of his life. Not so well that no one notices, but well enough they think it’s just normal, average jealousy. A bit childish, maybe, but not the more sinister, dark, suffocating thing that’s truly inside him.

As he grows, he manages it well enough to not make it other people’s problems (most of the time), but it eats away at him in a way he can’t control.

Not everything spikes it. He doesn’t mind sharing the spotlight—in fact he greatly prefers it. He isn’t bothered by friends’ accomplishments—those are their own.

What does bother him is singular attention. That’s the best way he knows how to put it. For an audience, Anthony would much rather be a part of something than the whole; he built two channels out of that. Smosh isn’t a one man show, and interviews don’t work very well with just one person, but when it comes to being the most important thing to one single person, Anthony is not particularly willing to share.

He's jealous in relationships, he knows that. It’s caused plenty of arguments. It worries him, he doesn’t want to be toxic, but he needs to be the most important thing to them. He can feel himself choking on his jealousy when things change and he isn’t that precious thing anymore. It’s a slow death he suffers through each time.

Apparently, that goes double for business partners because Anthony truly, genuinely worried he was going to suffocate when Anthony asked Ian to leave with him and he didn’t. His body felt hollow and burned through, like everything important in him was drained.

He’s gotten marginally better in their years apart. He doesn’t think he’s any less jealous, but he lets his flares bounce back against himself rather than out at other people.

Damn if it doesn’t catch him off guard every once in a while, though, which is how Anthony ends up breathing through his teeth at a dark, loud, too-cool party, watching Ian laugh at someone’s joke across the room as some guy clasps his shoulder to keep from doubling over.

Anthony already hates parties. It’s a manageable hate, but he does. This, though—watching Ian laugh and smile and talk and treasure someone else makes that jealousy rip through him, choking him by the throat like a fucked-up willow is trying to grow out of there. He wants to leave, except he doesn’t, because then he has to leave Ian and, well, he did that once already. He isn’t sure he’ll get a third chance. Ian does catch his eye, and there’s something of a balm for that awful thing inside him. It’s blue eyes that see him. He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until Ian crosses the dark room towards him.

“Hey,” Ian says. “You ready to go?”

Anthony shakes his head. He can’t make himself say the word ‘no,’ it’s too big of a lie, but he can deal with this for Ian’s sake. He has Ian’s attention right now, so he could endure a lot worse to keep it.

Ian takes a sip of his drink without letting his eyes leave Anthony, bright blue in this dark room. “Well, I think I’m done, but we can hang here if you want, I guess.” Anthony can’t lie, but he’s jealous. Ian isn’t jealous, but he can lie. Like a snake eating its own tail, chasing itself in circles.

“You don’t have to be done,” Anthony says. His eyes flicker to that guy Anthony definitely knows of but can’t name, who’s staring at Ian across the way, a little longing and a little awestruck. He doesn’t blame him, but he doesn’t forgive him either. “But maybe we should get some air?” he suggests.

Ian nods. “Sure.”

They wander outside together, past loud conversation and louder music, into the much lighter LA night air. A breeze rustles through the patio and it makes Anthony aware of how warm he was inside, catching on the light sheen of sweat on his skin. Ian sighs and leans against the side of the house-slash-mansion. It’s quiet between them, but Anthony likes it, until those gnarled fingers dig into him, and he starts to wonder: is Ian here with him or still back inside?

“Who was that?” he asks casually.

Ian rubs under the bridge of his glasses. “Theo? I dunno, I guess he’s, like, a food guy or something. I met him guesting on a podcast last year.”

“Cool,” Anthony says. “Yeah, I was surprised he remembered me.” Anthony nods. He exhales through his nose, but he doesn’t feel like he’s breathing.

Ian shrugs. “We really can go if you want. I’m pretty much done here.”

“Pretty much?” Anthony asks before he can stop himself.

Ian gives him a look. Anthony thinks he should be able to read it, there’s something so direct in Ian’s gaze. “Just a figure of speech. C’mon, let’s just go.”

Anthony can’t help himself; this is where his jealousy is layered too deep, this is his instinct, his nature. “You wanna say bye to Theo first?”

“No,” Ian says without a second thought or a moment of hesitation, like Anthony wasn’t just the brattiest, pettiest person he knows. “He’s fine without me, Anthony.”

“He didn’t look fine when you left.”

“Ok, fine. Well, I don’t care what he looked like. Enough, Anthony. I’m right here.”

Anthony doesn’t say anything. He can still taste that bitter blackness on his tongue.

Ian rolls his eyes. “Your dramatic ass is gonna be the end of me one day,” he mutters, more to himself than anything, then he grabs Anthony’s shirt and pulls him in.

That’s how Anthony ends up kissing Ian for the first time against cool stone at a party he doesn’t want to be at because he can’t keep his jealousy in check. Anthony is probably always going to be jealous, always going to have that bitter, rotten ugliness in there, always going to have to fight it. But maybe it was more to do with missing something he needed. Maybe he’s been trying to feed something that doesn’t want him, or maybe Ian just makes it gentler. Either way, as they break apart, that sharp, craving ache inside Anthony’s bones eases just a bit.

“Dumbass,” Ian smirks, only inches from his face, eyes wandering all over his face like he can’t get enough of Anthony’s stupefied expression.

Anthony swallows, and it tastes like Ian. The beast in his stomach tears into it hungrily, finally sated.

“So, two options,” Ian says. “We leave right now, just bolt for the car. Or,” he takes Anthony’s hand in his, “we go say goodbye to Theo together.”

Anthony can barely process what Ian’s saying, there’s so much room to breathe in his chest, things feel so easy, like all his bones have snapped into alignment. He tries, though, and Ian is patient for him. Before he answers, he kisses Ian again, feels him shift against the side of the house to get closer, to touch more of him, like he wants to be near that deep, ugly, choking jealousy.

“Fuck Theo,” Anthony breathes when they part.

Ian shakes his head. “Nah. Just you.” Anthony laughs. “Okay,” he agrees, leaning in for one more kiss. “Okay.”

[achaotichuman]

What you became instead

Hi everyone!!! This is the third and final chapter for my fic What You Could Have Been for @sjmvillainweek !!

I have had a lot of fun with this fic, please let me know what y'all think of it. I particularly enjoyed the style of writing I used here. Tell me if you guys want to see more short stories like this one in the future!!

Summary:

He's something she could never be. Somehow, everything she hates and wants woven into one being. Soft, kind, loving. Everything a leader shouldn't be. Everything she's spent her life cutting from her being. Yet, when she sees it in him, she cannot help but want it more than anything.

A short story of Amarantha and Tamlin, two polar opposites locked in eternal orbit of each other.

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Telling myself I won't go there

Oh, but I know that I won't care

Tryna wash away all the blood I've spilt

They sat apart from each other. He loathed to touch her and she felt it in every fibre of her being when he did. His gaze was blank now, empty, devoid of the warmth and life she had been drawn to. 

Everything she had wanted. Lusted after. Craved. 

It was gone now. His eyes were hollow and the only emotion he felt was seething rage, festering beneath his skin, so sick with grief he barely slept. He refused to eat. His body withered with the depths of his anger and hatred. 

Everything about him, everything she was drawn to was gone just like that. The light shining from his skin had dulled to a muted grey, the splendour of his free, wild blond hair was now straw-like pale strands that clung to his skin. The warmth he once radiated was replaced by the same coldness her skin possessed. And the powerful body he had spent so long honing was bone and skin now. Worthless to him, just the drag of the mortal coil, the thing that prevented his nightmares from ending. 

He was just like her now. 

He could not drag her up from the darkness she had sunk to, so she had to drag him down with her. It was that simple. 

Now, she truly had nothing left to gain. This was all there was. 

She was done. 

They sat apart. 

This lust is a burden that we both share

Two sinners can't atone from a lone prayer

Souls tied, intertwined by our pride and guilt

On the velvet lounge, looking at nothing as the fire crackled. Their hands folded in their laps, his legs curled up beside him. She watched the flames flicker, he stared at his hands. 

The gap between them was enough to fit two fae, and it felt like a void was beneath them. If she reached out she risked falling down into that endless darkness and then she’d truly never see light again. 

But she didn’t have anything else to do, so she reached out anyway. 

“Hybern has given me reign over the Mortal Lands attached to this continent now.” She said, her voice lacking the smug victory it should have. 

“Mhm.” He hummed. He did not want to hear it. She knew that much. 

“I will be heading off there at first light, you are to remain here.” She said, but he already knew that. It had been so long since she had seen him in the sun. 

“Mhm.” Tamlin did not care to entertain her. 

“Do you miss it? The sun?” She asked, probing, taunting a little, perhaps mocking or simply asking. She didn’t know. She just wanted something. Anything. 

“No.” He replied with. 

“Why not?” 

“What worth does it have to me?” 

There's darkness in the distance

From the way that I've been livin'

But I know I can't resist it

That…

Amarantha swallowed hard. 

She sat back, looking into the fire once more. 

Those words were near a perfect mimic of a response she would have made to that. 

It… 

It frightened her. 

Well, at least that was new. The all-consuming feeling of fear that spread from her lungs down to her fingertips, her skin beginning to tingle and her stomach dropping like something was hunting her. As a sense of dread and shame began to wash through her body, her cheeks grew hot and her skin felt too small and the room too big. It was all larger than she could handle. All of this had gone too fucking far. 

Tamlin didn’t respond. Didn’t acknowledge whether or not he was aware of her predicament, and the feelings washing over her. He just stared. He seemed lost. 

Lost entirely. 

Stupid girl, she thought, her lips quirking up as she began to hear her mother’s voice. 

Stupid, stupid girl, you never gained what you did not have.

You just lost him in a different way than death. 

A way worse than death. 

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time

You and I drink the poison from the same vine

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time

She stared at him for a good long while, he did not look back. He did not care. 

He truly. 

Truly did not care. 

“The fifty years begins tomorrow.” She said suddenly. 

He didn’t flinch, he didn’t take a sharper breath, he didn’t so much as look at her. He just stared at his hands. 

Always staring at his fucking hands. 

“Did you hear me?” Amarantha repeated, waves of anger coursing through her skin, drowning out the fear, the grief. 

“I did.” Tamlin confirmed, finally turning his eyes to her. To see her. To look at her and all she was. She felt naked. Like he could peer underneath her skin, through the muscle fibres, down to her bare bones. 

She and every worthless, rotting thing about her was fully visible to him. It always had been. 

The difference now was the look in his eyes when he saw every single part of her was no longer hatred and disgust. It was no longer that rejection of the horrifying thing she was that she had been drawn too. 

It was indifference. It was emotionless. It was nothing. 

Because she had really, truly stripped everything away. 

He could put up a mask, of course, he could hide the nothingness behind pleasant smiles and wider eyes and straight spine. 

But underneath it all, there was nothing. 

He was

Just

Like

Her. 

Hidin' all of our sins from the daylight

From the daylight, runnin' from the daylight

From the daylight, runnin' from the daylight

“Do you not care?” She asked, though the question was futile. 

“Why would I? What is out there that needs my saving?” His words were a stab, each and every one of them. 

“You were so… so,” She struggled for words when she stared into those unblinking eyes, “So desperate to protect before.”

“That was when I had things to protect. What is there now? My people that you haven’t killed are either on their deathbeds or tortured to the point of begging for release from this world. You killed Lucien as punishment for my defiance, you tortured him in front of me until he bled out. Rhysand is God knows fucking where to be found anymore.”

“We had a bargain of our own.” Amarantha said quietly, “I let him go free. He will never return.”

Tamlin went on, “The High lord’s are either dead in ditches somewhere, or buried so far deep into this hell hole, kept under such heavy lock and key, that they might as well be dead. The earth has stopped calling for me, and I can never hear the windsong. The sun doesn’t shine on my people, and the magic has long turned rotten with my withering. Really, Amarantha? What is there to care about? What is there to protect?”

She did answer. She just stared at him. 

Tamlin didn’t cry, he didn’t grieve anymore, he’d done enough of that in the three centuries they’d spent under the mountain. 

He leaned in closer to her, and murmured, “Everyone and everything I loved and wanted so desperately to protect is on the other side of the veil now. I will join them soon.”

Her heart thumped against her ribcage, her lungs were full of glass, her throat was choked up and her skin was on fire. He moved across the lounge, his too thin hand rested on hers. She stared into the fire as he rested his head on her shoulder. 

He stared at their hands. 

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time

[mad4turtles]

Can I get some Uncle Tello- Baby/Toddler Casey Jones Jr bonding fluff? Their bond is just so cute and funny to me & I just keep thinking about Donatello "I don't like kids, but if anyone even breathes wrong in Casey Jr's direction I will not hesitate to take someone out" Hamato aka 'the grumpy, protective uncle who grows to love his nephew very much but would never willingly admit it outloud (especially to his twin. Too bad for him Leo most likely already knows. again. twins lol ). Cause I can imagine poor guy had a hard time coping with the fact that CJ can destroy anyone's "emotionally unavailable bad-boy" image with little effort if you give him the time. And Donnie learned the hard way 😂

I am SO sorry this took so long! This prompt is golden and I love it, here you go!

--

Donatello tolerates children. He doesn't hate them because, believe it or not, there is a difference between the two.

He understands from a logistical standpoint that children function differently from adults. They're still navigating the world, cry when a need isn't met, laugh when you tickle them or someone falls on their face, and put everything and anything within reach in their mouth to figure out what it is and if they can eat it. Most of the time, the answer is no. 

Donnie understands that, so he tolerates children. And as the world caves in and he's forced to intermingle with more humans and Yokai than he'll ever see (the numbers dwindle daily, but who's counting?), his tolerance builds. Though his position in the Resistance—Keeping Everyone Alive Under Six Feet of Earth and Limited Oxygen—keeps him cooped up in his lab and limits his interaction with people in general, on the odd days he's not locked in there with a sign that reads 'Keep Out or Get Bit', he'd say he does a decent job. Take that, autism.

It's on one of these odd days Cassandra Jones kicks the door of the mess hall down with enough force to send it flying, holds up a dirty bundle with a squirming thing inside and screeches. “I have acquired a child!”

And that was that.

Well, not really; there was a lot of screeching, demanding, explaining and even more frantic demanding involved. But Donnie barely remembers most of it. He'd been busy staring at the little pink face peeking out from the ragged cloth wrapped hastily around a tiny body, wondering how and why anyone would abandon him.

Logically, he knew why. Babies smell, they're defenceless, needy and loud. All recipes for disaster—death—in the alien apocalypse. Logically, he knew it was better to cut your losses and ditch, lighten the load, ease the burden and raise your chances of survival. 

Emotionally, irrationally, he wanted to find the blood mother and kill her himself.

Regardless, Cassandra had claimed him, named him—Casey Jones Jr, of course—and the Hamato's had a new family member. 

Cass was a mother, and Donnie was suddenly an uncle.

Cassandra, despite herself, is a great mother. She feeds, clothes, bathes and teaches Jr with the ferocity and vigour she's always had in spades but dipped in a new warmth and love Donnie never would have associated with her. It's unexpected, but Cass wouldn't be Cass if she weren't screwing Donnie's perception of reality in her every waking moment.

April and Raph dote on him something awful with baby voices and whatever toys they find or have donated to them by other understanding and indulgent parents. Mikey cries when he takes his first steps. Draxum gifts him a Yokai necklace made from dragon teeth and scales.

(“He can eat them once his feeble infant teeth fall out,” he explains while stoically cradling the giggling infant on one clawed palm, outwardly indifferent yet impossibly gentle. “They will harden his skin and strengthen his bones to iron. No Krang would dare stand in his way.”

“We are not,” April says, “feeding dragon teeth to my nephew, Draxum.”

“As his grandfather, I should have some say in his dietary requirements. Cassandra agrees with me!”

“I will bury you, Draxum,” April growls in a tone that promises unspeakable violence. “I will bury you deep.”

“... understood.”)

Leo lets him chew on his mask tails while rocking him to sleep. He also cries like a bitch when the little pink thing looks him in the eye, drool dribbling down his chin and his gummy smile miles and miles wide and says—“Weo!”

(Donnie thinks Splinter would have loved him just as much. Shared with him the stories and legacy of their clan, sang to him the same old Japanese lullabies, enthralled him with the tales of Lou Jitsu, everything he'd wanted to do should he ever become a grandfather.)

Donnie doesn't see Casey much. Not by choice, but he's a busy freaking turtle and one-year-olds are notoriously for being loud, distracting little things that Donnie cannot afford, now more than ever.

He knows their chances of winning the war are slim at best and impossible at worst. Hope can only take you so far, crazy mystic powers or not. They've already lost so much of their world. They've already lost Dad.

So Donnie needs to focus, work and keep working so they won't lose anyone else. Anything less than the best possible outcome is not a thread of logic he is willing to follow.

Then there's a knock at his door.

Without turning from his multiple screens, mystic or otherwise, Donnie grunts, “It had better be good—”

Cassandra bursts through the door, blazes across the room, dumps something on Donnie's lap—“HOLD THIS I WILL RETURN SHORTLY SHUT UP AND THANK YOU FAREWELL!”—and slams the door behind her on her way out.

Donnie sits bamboozled in his chair in the aftermath of her whirlwind. He stares at the scorch marks her feet left on the floor, the angle his door sits at after she'd slammed it near off its hinges—

“Ba!”

—and at the one-year-old pink thing she'd left to drool on his lap.

“Oh hell no, hell no—Cassandra Bernid Jones!” he hollers to no reply.

How in the shit could she do this to him?! Why in the shit?!

Junior giggles at Donnie's misery, kicking his bare feet madly and clapping damp hands. He must've had his fingers in his mouth. Joy.

“Cassandra, come back for your child or I will feed you to the nearest Krang Hound!” Donnie shouts. Unsurprisingly, his only answer is more of Junior's incessant giggling. Pudgy fingers reach for Donnie's face and Donnie lifts him higher, further away. Junior shrieks with joy.

Growling, Donnie activates the mechanical arms in his shell to carefully lift the child off his lap as he stands, holding him at a fair distance. The child is delighted by this and kicks harder, screaming with unbridled joy and having the time of his life. Donnie stares, fighting a scowl and a flinch because dear god how can something so small be so ungodly loud?

Donnie wants to smash something. Ironically, the indirect source of his ire keeps that desire at bay, but it doesn't stop him from grinding his teeth.

He's busy running updates on their freaking security system, the only thing keeping the Krang from finding them and killing everything that breathes. Cassandra knows this, everyone knows this, he'd sent them an email about it! So why, in the ever-loving shit, would Cassandra literally drop her child off with the one person who has a history of only tolerating children? Sure it's his adopted nephew, but he can only last so much in the presence of his own blood relatives for Christ—

He doesn't realize he's hissing, a low guttural thing rivalled only by Raphael at his angriest, until Junior stops laughing.

As much as they postured and played with fashion, aesthetics and trends as teenagers, Donnie and his brothers are mutants, and by (non-freaky)human standards, they are not conventionally 'pretty'. And according to many honest human comrades, April included, they can be downright unnerving sometimes. Mostly when they're pissed off, their animal roots seeping through the cracks of the humanity instilled in them by a loving father. They growl, hiss, click and roar, bearing their teeth and snarling like beasts. It's worse for Donnie and Raph, the carnivores of the family and most prone to biting; Raph's size doesn't help, and Donnie has easily frightened some of their biggest and strongest Yokai allies with a flash of fangs or a warning hiss.

It's not something he likes about himself these days. It never bothered him until they were forced to interact more and more with humans who had no qualms pointing shit like that out, even now with literal aliens prowling their ruined world. Still, he's learned to roll with it like he does with everything else.

But Casey Junior looks at him—his peeled lips revealing sharp fangs grit tight in a snarl and a hiss he can't curb fast enough—and he starts crying.

Oh shit.

“Oh shit,” Donnie says, flapping his hands, ire forgotten as panic takes over. “Oh shit, the child is crying and I am the cause. Cassandra will kill me, then Draxum will bring me back as a zombie so Raph can kill me again.”

What the hell does he do? Make funny faces? Pretend to trip over and fall flat on his snoot? Kids love physical comedy, pain is always funny! Or maybe he—or—oh who is he kidding, he's screwed. And the baby is still crying, kicking his feet and red in the face. Donnie lowers but doesn't touch him, biting his lip as his thoughts race. Not even five minutes and he's proven he cannot handle a child. How does Raph do this? How did Dad put up with this for seventeen years—

Oh wait, there's an idea. What did Dad do?

Trick question: Donnie knows exactly what Dad did when they were younger, and eight times out of ten it worked. The problem lies with Donnie and his intense aversion to all things stinky and gross and loud, all of which Casey Jr is.

But Donnie has seen and lived with worse even before the world went to shit. He lived with Leo and Mikey as his little brothers; they piss him off like it's their personal mission, but he loves them so fiercely it's painful. He'd look death in the eye and double-dog dare it to do its worst for them.

This is his baby nephew. He's not been around nearly as long but surely, surely, Donnie can get over himself for him, too.

(Even if he is a busy turtle working his ass off at the end of the world. But family is different. Family trumps everything.)

So Donnie swallows, takes a deep breath, takes Casey from the mechanical arms before dismissing them into his shell—“I'm doing it, I'm freaking doing it—” and pulls Casey into his arms, holding him tight against his chest.

The crying doesn't magically cease as Donnie had hoped, but it dies down into kitten-like sniffles that do—something to Donnie's heart, squeezing and twisting it in a way he hasn't felt since Mikey was this small, maybe smaller. Whatever it is, it compels him to cup the back of Casey's ebony head and press his (grossgrossgross) face into the exposed crook of Donnie's neck.

“Um... there there,” he says clumsily, patting Casey's back with his other hand. “Cease your crying. It's making my knees hurt and my chest do weird, fuzzy things I don't have time for.”

Casey turns his head at Donnie's voice, frighteningly alert. 

Hm.

With a claw from his battle shell, he pulls his purple hood up, shielding Casey from the neon glare of his computer screens and LED lights around the lab. 

“I apologize for scaring you,” he says a decibel softer. Casey turns his head again in response, still sniffling but significantly calmer. “I am angry, yes, but I am not angry at you. It was unfair of me to show my ire that way, especially in front of you, child who is easily frightened by loud noises and yet is scarily perceptive of the moods of the people around you...”

Casey lays his head against Donnie's shoulder, blinking up at him with big watery eyes. Donnie blinks back.

This is... not awful. It's progress. Progress is good. This is good.

He tears his gaze from Jr's—as deadly a weapon as Mikey's eyes for sure—and sways from side to side the way he used to do for Leo when they were young and scared. He hums a tune under his breath, one from that Ghibli movie about little people; he can't remember the film's name but the song at the end was cute and catchy as it was corny. Even years later, he remembers the words—

“I'm 14 years old, I am pretty. I'm a teen tiny girl, a little lady. I live under the kitchen floor. Right here, not so far from you.” 

The sniffles die off, Casey's pudgy fingers grasping Donnie's torn hood, tiny nose buried against cool scales. Donnie keeps going, softly rubbing Casey's back the way Dad would rub his shell during Donnie's worse days. The memory brings tears to his eyes, so he shuts them before they can fall.

“Sometimes I feel happy, sometimes I feel blue. In my dreams O I wish I could... Feel my hair blowing in the wind, see the sky and the summer rain, pick a flower from the garden for you. Beyond the lane there's another world, butterflies floating in the air. But is there someone out there for me?”

By the end, Donnie looks down to see Casey fast asleep, sucking his thumb and drooling on Donnie's shoulder. For a breathless moment that lasts an eternity, Donnie is spellbound, staring at the little pink thing—a biological miracle someone had so quickly discarded on the barren streets of a dying world, a little life that had persevered despite every odd stacked against it, Cassandra's son, Donnie's little infant nephew—he cradles in his arms. For the first time he doesn't care for the slimy drool coating his shoulder, the bacteria or anything his body and brain would outright reject.

Donnie stares at Casey Jones Jr and finally pins a name to the fuzzy feeling in his chest.

Oh.

“Oh,” he says. Jr snuffles in his sleep.

---

When Leo turns a corner to find Mikey, Raph, April and Cassandra huddled outside Donnie's lab doors, he almost turns around to avoid the oncoming storm of Donnie's short temper. The gossip in him wins out in the end as he squeezes between Raph and Cassandra to peer through the crack in the door.

What he sees has him gaping like a fish.

Donatello Hamato—the Resistance's resident genius and hermit—sits languidly at his desk surrounded by screens, one hand tapping away at holographic screens, breezing through emails. The other arm curls around a babbling Casey Jr, grubby hands clenched tight on one of Donnie's old rubber fidget toys as he gnaws on it like a dog with a bone.

“The shipment from Asia's remaining base in Hong Kong should be arriving at the port between noon and sixteen hundred hours tomorrow,” Donnie rambles, eyes scanning a long wall of encrypted mystic text.

“Ba!” Casey cries around the toy, kicking his legs.

Donnie nods with a hum, scratching his chin. “Yes, I agree. Krang activity has intensified alarmingly at the Old Port since the refugee extraction six months ago, but there's no time to plan a safer route...”

“Ba dee ba!” Casey blows a messy raspberry. Not missing a beat, a mechanical arm pops from Donnie's shell to wipe the baby's mouth with a cloth before discarding it.

“You're right, Jr. I suppose there's no helping the matter. We must brief the teams as soon as possible to discuss the matter, rally what factions we have at our disposal—”

“Eeeee!” Casey screeches before bursting into giggles.

Donnie brightens. “Of course! We could send the drones! They're stealthier and won't incur a needless massacre at the hands of psychopathic aliens. If anything, we shall be doing the massacring once I've outfitted the drones with my newest Genius Built trademark mystic weaponry! Excellent idea Casey Jones Jr, what would I do without your added brilliance.”

“Don-NEE!” Casey cries.

“Yes yes, I'll send the email and hopefully one of those dumb dumbs will actually read—wait, what did you say?” Donnie drops the screens and plucks Casey off his lap to stare him in the face with wide eyes. “Did—Did you just—did you just say—?”

“Don!” Casey giggles, wiggling in Donnie's grip. “Don don don don don! Don-NEE!”

Donnie stares and stares and stares. A stupidly happy grin splits his face in two. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” Mikey breathes with a matching grin.

“Would'ja look at that,” Raph chuckles, his smile a proud, fond thing.

“Knew he had it in him,” April nods.

“Which means Leonardo owes me fifty bucks!” Cassandra quietly whoops.

Tearing his eyes away from the horrendously cute picture of his twin and nephew, Leo aims a sly grin at Cassandra. “I would if we still used actual money as a source of income or trade.” Cassandra's grin drops like a stone, and Leo fights an evil cackle that would make Draxum proud. “Cash hasn't been a thing in years, Cassandra dear. Get dunked on.”

“Bite my ass, you di—!”

The door abruptly slides open the rest of the way and they tumble to the floor in a heap. Above them, Donatello stands unimpressed, brow raised and one hand on his hip. Curled in his other arm, Jr babbles happily and reaches for Cassandra.

“Evening all,” Donnie drones as they clambered guiltily to their feet. “To what do I owe this displeasure.”

“Nothing at all!” Cassandra said, shooting Leo a poisonous glare before opening her arms to receive her son. “Thank you for looking after my child, I will take him back now and relinquish you from your—”

“A-bub-bub-bub!” Donnie turns slightly, putting Jr out of her reach. “I have decided that Jr may stay a few hours longer while I run the regular diagnostics and schedule that meeting you no doubt heard about while you were unceremoniously eavesdropping at my still broken door—thank you for that Cassandra, by the way—he is no trouble presently and makes an excellent rubber duck to bounce ideas off. Don't you agree, Jr?”

Jr snaps his head up to beam at Donnie. “Ah!” he says. Donnie's impassive face melts into a rare smile that Leo aches to see. He's not smiled like that since before Dad...

Cassandra's arms flop to her sides. April, Mikey and Raph stare, rendered speechless until April lifts a finger. “... er, Don, are you sure—?”

“Quite sure, Commander O'Neil,” the impassive mask returns, but Donnie's fooling no one. “Now if you don't mind, Jr and I are very busy bees and must get back to work, so begone. And while you're at it, please issue this new warning to the rest of the base: 'I have only had Casey Jones Jr for five hours, but if anything happens to him, I will kill everyone in this base and then myself.' Good day.”

“Goo' 'ay!” Casey chimes and Leo has a front-row seat to Donnie's delighted crooked smirk right before he slams the door shut in their faces.

There's a beat of silence.

Then Raph claps his hands. “So,” he draws out with a strained smile, “who saw that coming?”

“Me,” Leo sings.

“You bet against him!” Cassandra booms. “With non-existent money!”

Leo shrugs, motioning them to follow him down the hall. “Only on principle. I knew he had it in him. Jr is family and Donnie loves attention and family. It was bound to happen.”

“Aaand it was stupidly cute!” Mikey chimes, floating by them with his hands tucked under his chin.

Leo thinks of the tingle he'd felt in his chest hours ago when Cassandra first ditched—ahem—dropped Jr off with Donnie, of the familiar tune from an old, corny yet hopeful film from their childhood humming from the fringes of their Mind Meld, of the glee and soft, new, helpless love bleeding from Donnie's gaze, his smile, as Jr babbled his name.

Leo smiles. “Yeah. Stupidly cute.”

---

Reblogs are appreciated! Feel free to drop more requests! For those of you still waiting, thank you for your patience I will get to them soon! :3 <3

[herbatalover]

Hiii!! I was wondering if you could make angst? My idea was that maybe Arthur x male reader are getting married and stuff and spent what felt like forever planning it together so it was perfect for them. Finally the day came and reader could barley keep himself calm from excitement but after getting ready with help from some of the guys and mostly the women he hears Arthur hasn’t even shown up and when waiting for Arthur to see if he does show up he doesn’t. Now reader is furious at Arthur basically hating him with every bone in his body and Arthur has the audacity to show up acting like nothing happened but after (forever) of trying to make it up to reader he explains it was “cold feet” (or whatever you want) and really does want to get married but reader doesn’t really trust him now. (HAPPY ENDING PLEASE)

Sorry about the delay and about how short it is! Having a hard time right now.

Ya really gave me a challenge with wanting me to make a happy ending out of it, but I'll see what I can do

Enjoy!

Coward

Arthur Morgan x M! Reader

Everything was perfect. You were standing outside, shaking from excitement, dressed in a beautiful, new suit that tge gang lend you some money for. Everyone was there, sitting on the chairs before you, waiting, smiling proudly. Reverend Swanson was next to you, looking through the Bible, getting ready with his speech. Surprisingly, he was sober.

It took you months to get everything ready. Where, who would come, how would it look. Months to get the food, clothes, rings, flowers. Months to get your own speeches ready. But now it was done. Everything was getting closer. The wedding almost starting.

Except...

"Where's Arthur?"

Concerned whispered went through the gang, looking around, seeing if they can spot the blond man. You took out a watch, checking the hour.

"He's been late thirty minutes..."

And you saw him right before the ceremony? Where has he gone? He was all ready, you could start? Unless...

It hit you. He ran away. He left you at the goddamn alter.

What a piece of shit.

You go quiet, realization slowly sinking in. You felt like a fool. What was the point of coming? So much money went to shit, just for him not to show up. You could feel the pitiful and judgemental stares. You took a breath, slowly walking away from others, just to start running. You could feel tears coming to your eyes, trying everything you had to push them back.

Goddamn monster.

Bloody coward.

Hopefully he rots in hell.

→→→→→

Weeks went by. You were mostly stuck working or sitting in your tent. Arthur still hasn't come back. You tried to forget about the whole situation, but constant looks of worry and pity were killing you inside. But, you decided, you won't waste your time on a man like this. He tricked you, then left you. He broke your trust. He can die as far as you care (you were lying to yourself, of course, but who can blame you?)

One day, as you were on the lookout, you could hear sounds of hooves quickly coming towards you. You blinked, turning there and went quiet, surprised. There stood your beloved man, on the horse, panting. He jumped off.

"Y/n..."

"Great, you're back. Get off, we're short on food and Dutch thought you're dead already"

"I missed you" he tried walking to you, but you pointed a gun at him

"if you touch me, I'll shoot your guts out"

He went quiet, taking few steps back before sighing defeated, taking his horse and going to the camp.

→→→→→

Everyone in camp was furious at Arthur. Hosea gave him thousands of lectures, the girls giving him these awful glares, Dutch just being... Disappointed. Even John teasing him how now he's not the only one that ran away.

But Arthur didn't care. He just wanted you to forgive him. But you didn't even speak to him. You were completely avoiding him. Not that he's surprised.

One day, when you were in your tent, someone walked in. You already knew it's Arthur because he had the audacity to walk in in the first place.

"Get out" you growl, turning away from him

"Please, y/n, talk to me..."

"What do you want me to say?? 'Oh, hey babe, don't worry about running away from our wedding, it's okay we can do it again'?! Grow up Arthur! Actions have consequences! You can't do what you want and then expect someone to forgive you!"

"I got scared!" He grabbed your shoulders "I was terrified! I didn't want to make you regret marrying a man like me! I know it was a bad choice, but I thought it's for the best!"

"I regret meeting you, Arthur"

"Don't say that. You don't mean it. You hate me, I can see it. But I want to fix it. Please"

"Get out. I hate you"

"No. Let me fix it, y/n. I love you"

"..."

"I always loved you. I'm sorry I ran away. I'll make it up to you"

".... Fine"

"What?"

"Fine, fix it" you looked away. "Try your luck. If you fuck up one more time, you'll end up dead. Got me?"

"Yes... Yes, thank you!"

Your mother would call you foolish for trusting someone twice, especially after this. But you loved the man. As much as he'd fuck up, you'll never stop loving him. You feel embarrassed, but you'll yell at him for that later. You take his face and kiss him, remembering just why you wanted to marry him in the first place.

Maybe it'll be better next time.

[velvet4510]

The Gaffer is an interesting character to me. His few scenes definitely show us that he is a gruff kind of guy who never shies away from making his opinion known among the gossips. Though he’s illiterate, he’s not stupid at all, and is actually very intelligent when it comes to all things gardening. But he also has very polite manners toward the gentry and is more than humble enough to “know his place” and be content with the simple working class life. He doesn’t share Sam’s passion for Elves and for learning in general. He’s perfectly fine with his lot in life and has no aspirations. It’s clear that Sam’s modesty, resourcefulness, and grounded sense are all inherited from the Gaffer.

Yet I’ve seen the Gaffer get a bit of hate amongst the fandom. Some dislike how he apparently calls Sam names like “ninnyhammer,” and some fanfics have taken this and ran with it to the point of depicting the Gaffer as a straight-up abusive father. Which…absolutely does not gel with Tolkien’s portrait of him at all.

It seems to me that the Gaffer is actually similar to Gandalf in his demeanor. When frustrated or exasperated, he calls people names, but in an affectionate way. And Sam obviously adores his dad, constantly worrying about his wellbeing back home. It’s clear they have a close and good relationship. Sam just does not seem or feel like an abused child. Maybe overly humbled, yes - the Quest does give him a much-needed boost in self-esteem - but not abused. Sam doesn’t have an abusive or unkind bone in his body; I really don’t think he would be as benign as he is, if he grew up with as cruel a role model as many seem to assume the Gaffer is.

Especially since Sam’s mom is clearly no longer around, and his older siblings seem to have all moved out, since Sam and his dad are the only ones who live in 3 Bagshot Row. So they seem similar to Bilbo and Frodo in that it’s been the 2 of them for a while, they have their own little lifestyle system that works for them, and they look after each other.

Notice in particular how the Gaffer often calls his son “my Sam,” which to me indicates he has great affection and pride for Sam. He even seems like he has that parental mindset of remembering and always seeing his son as his little boy, even when his son is all grown up.

The Gaffer also gives off the vibe of somebody who is actually much more open-minded than he claims to be. Yes, he’s a traditionalist and doesn’t like the idea of leaving home for anything. But notice how he fervently defends Bilbo and Frodo in front of the gossips. He’s not among those who disapprove of the Bagginses or call them “mad.” He’s very fond of them and will not speak ill of them. He appreciates how kind they are to him, and doesn’t see any harm in their unusual interests. And while he does drill an absolute sense of humbleness into Sam by saying things like “don’t get mixed up with your betters,” he actually doesn’t seem to mind that Bilbo taught Sam to read and write, even though Sam wasn’t “supposed” to be literate given his place in society. I feel like while he is set in his ways, he is also able to notice and acknowledge when something unusual has its benefits.

And let’s never forget that the Gaffer is also brave! He literally lies to a Nazgûl’s face to protect Frodo, claiming Frodo had already left when he hadn’t. Even if he didn’t know Frodo hadn’t left yet, it’s still clear he has no intention of selling Frodo out to this creepy guy. When push comes to shove, the Gaffer has some admirable courage inside him…another quality of his that Sam inherited.

I also feel great sympathy for him when I consider what that year must’ve been like for him. Imagine your son disappearing without a trace for 14 straight months, right after some creepy cloaked guy comes asking for your son’s boss. How terrified must that poor guy have been! It’s not much of a stretch to assume he was worried about Sam every single day, wondering if he was safe, if he’d ever see him again. How much sleep must he have lost because of his fears.

And of course, Sam names his fourth son after him. Another indicator that they had a genuinely good and loving relationship.

I really like the Gaffer and will always defend him. Let’s give him some credit. He’s a good guy. We primarily have him to thank, anyway, for raising Sam to be the amazing person he is.

[fiori7ura]

“make him pay.”

words — 587 | rating — teen & up

★ warnings: none!

based on the prompt sentence, “If you die, I’m gonna kill you,” by @writinginstardust, which you can find here

—

They're standing outside of the Munson's trailer, huddled in a group. Robin, Nancy, and Steve on one side, facing Eddie and Dustin. Thunder rolls in the atmosphere around them, and it's their final destination before they go to try and kill Vecna.

The air is musky and stinks like nasty ass mildew, it's fucking freezing, Steve can't feel his goddamn fingers, and now, he has to say goodbye to Eddie and Dustin and turn his back. Be the strong man, the big man, and walk away.

It's hard to do.

Steve makes sure to put his best into the little speech he prepared to Robin before all of this.

"Don't try and be cute, or be a hero, or something," he huffs, looking at Eddie. "You guys are just—decoys."

Dustin nods along with Steve while he's talking, and Steve imagines that's just like how he does when he's in class. He loves that kid with every bone in his body.

Eddie smiles weakly, his dimples not popping like they normally do. His smile doesn't meet his eyes, and Steve's chest aches in a bad way.

Steve goes to turn away as he gives Eddie and Dustin one last look, but he hears Eddie's voice ring out behind him and gives into the weakness crawling up the knobs of his spine.

"Hey, Steve?"

Eddie's eyes are squinted, his head is tilted ever-so-slightly, and there's a determined set to his jaw.

He looks down, eyes darting around, facing towards the hard dirt ground, avoiding eye contact with Steve. Then he glances back up, weary as ever.

"Make him pay," Eddie mutters out, and the mask he always wears to hide how he feels is now withering away. Steve can see it in his face.

Steve nods, goes to walk away, then pauses. Stands there for a second, maybe a minute, weighing his choices, and decides, fuck it.

He heads straight toward Eddie, grabs the open sides of his jacket, and pulls him close, pressing his mouth to Eddie's.

"If you die, I’m gonna kill you, Munson," Steve mumbles against his lips, hot breath passed between them in their small shared space.

Eddie cups his face delicately, like Steve will break if he's not too careful with him, and nods. "I promise, you'll see me after this, Stevie. You can hate me for as long as you live if I don't come back."

Steve pulls away, nudges his nose against Eddie's, and grins. "As if I could ever hate you, Eds."

Eddie chuckles, and his eyes crinkle, and those devistatingly cute dimples pop out, and Steve feels so giddy inside.

Robin clears his throat behind him, and Steve gives him a knowing smile, playfully rolling his eyes.

"Guess that's my cue. I'll see you soon, Eddie."

Eddie pulls his grimy hands away from Steve's face, and gives him one last peck, soft and sweet.

"See you."

Steve nods, and Eddie nods back, winking, and his smile is still present on his beautiful face.

When they see each other again, Steve wraps Eddie in the biggest hug, spinning him around in circles all while kissing him as long as he can.

They made it out alive, Eddie's safe and unscathed, and Steve can't believe his luck. Maybe the universe isn't so cruel.

"You kept your promise, huh, baby?"

Eddie smiles so widely Steve feels like he might already be falling in love. "'Course I did, sweetheart."

His southern twang comes through while speaking, and Steve kisses him again.

And again, and again, and again.

—

pinterest is here

ao3 is here

[world0fmadness]

RIDING HIGH

jørn “ necrobutcher ” stubberud x reader

♡ nsfw headcanons for high sex with jørn!

୨୧ woohoo, part three of kinktober! i mean, i did get this done yesterday but you know… planning ahead and stuff, especially since i’ll be disappearing a little for a couple days because of the games coming out lolol <3

♡ requested by anon | part three of kinktober | view my metal masterlists here and here

reading music recommendations: riding high by bone thugs n harmony - angel dust by venom

୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧

୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧

♡ you and jørn get high together a whole lot, the two of you just love to cuddle up in your shared bed on top of the blankets and share a blunt or pass a glass bong back and fourth between you!

୨୧ jørn is a goofy high, he always gets so comedic and laughs at everything wether it be something actually funny or nothing at all… sometimes he will just lay flat on his back and laugh whilst staring at the ceiling, his head fogged as your bedroom is dewy with smoke and him laughing only makes you laugh! both of you letting out breathy giggles as you lay next to each other on the bed, his arm thrown around your shoulder and you curl into his side…

♡ not only does jørn become super comedic when high though, oh no! jørn is a majorly horny high too, he gets so beyond horny within just minutes of taking his first hit, within minutes of his mind becoming clouded and hazy! smoking weed just makes him crave you, makes him want you so carnally and makes him hard at just the thought of being buried inside your warm and welcoming cunt

୨୧ but jørn is also kind of a lazy high, he smokes to relax and he always just feels so laid back whilst smoking, he always feels so warm and comfortable, too comfortable to really even move in the slightest as you lay together on your bed, only ever having the energy to caress your skin as he wraps an arm around your body, drawing patterns on your warm skin as he holds the blunt in his free hand

♡ jørn absolutely loves making out when high, he cannot get high without making out with you at least once and they’re always so sloppy, his hand gently holding the back of your head as you accept his tongue into your warm mouth, letting him shotgun thick smoke into your mouth as his hand strokes your hair, tucking some back behind your ear as your tongues mingle inside of your mouth

୨୧ these open mouthed and sloppy make out sessions always spur the two of you on to want more, to crave more, a need to be closer filling your fogged minds, a need to feel each other in a deeper and even more intimate way… always turning the already messy kisses even more desperate as you moan and sigh softly into each others mouths, your clothed cunt, covered only by thin black cotton panties, beginning to rut into his side as his hands come down to your hips and pulls you over his lap, settling your body atop of his without breaking your needy kiss, without breaking the tangle of your intertwined tongues

♡ every time, you are so grateful that you guys get overly hot whilst high and strip down to your underwear before even getting horny, so grateful that your underwear makes for such easy and quick access as he slips his fingers under the hem of the black cotton, dipping his fingers through your cunt, chuckling deeply and mumbling with a raspy tone against your your mouth when he feels how soaked you already are

“ so wet already, hm? fuck… you really are soaking, baby… ” ( this slight dirty talk and the feeling of his fingers brushing against your clit only causes you to moan into his mouth, whining slightly when he chuckles and pulls his fingers away and out of your panties )

୨୧ jørn hates pulling away from the make out session, hates parting his tongue from yours and separating your lips but he has to, just for a minute to slip his plaid patterned boxers off and let his hard cock spring up against your stomach, gesturing for you to do the same with your bra whilst he focuses on pulling your panties off for you, revealing your wet and glistening cunt to his bloodshot red eyes which are quick to dart up to your chest when he sees you free your tits from the lace confides of the bra, watching you with a dopey smirk and messy long brown hair as you throw it onto the wooden bedpost, sending you a boyish wink and laughing quietly along with you whilst helping you raise your hips, positioning your cunt just above the leaking tip of his hard cock and gripping your hips tightly when you slide down onto him whilst keeping your balance with your palms flat against his slow rising chest

♡ he loves when you ride him with a slow and sensual pace, both of you too high and lazy to even think about going faster, both of you letting out slightly slurred and long moans… the smell of sex and sweat is quick to join the scent of weed in the dewey and smokey air of your small shared bedroom, the sound of your moans and skin smacking mixing in with the low volume of the venom record playing in the background of your minds…

୨୧ you might be riding him slowly but his cock reaches so incredibly deep inside of you with every soft bounce and grind, his thick cock hitting up against your g-spot nearly every time you sink your cunt back down on him, the wooden bed frame creaking beneath the two of you as you lift almost all the way up off his cock, only his tip remaining inside of you before sinking right back down on him, taking him inside until you reach the very base of his cock, jørn gritting out a breathy curse at the feeling before licking his dry lips

♡ even as he knows he is beyond high out of his mind, he reaches for the blunt resting in a ceramic ashtray beside the two of you on the bedsheet, taking it between his calloused fingers and bringing it up to his lips, wetting them more with his tongue before taking a long drag, inhaling deeply as he watches your body rise and fall on top of his cock, watching your tits bounce softly and your skin glisten with sweat, watching as you throw your head back in pleasure and your half lidded eyes close completely in ecstasy

୨୧ both of you are incredibly sensitive, your senses extremely heightened from the weed and skin so much more sensitive to touch and minds so much more vulnerable to pleasure that even with a slow and steady pace it does not take long for the two of you to cum as jørn wraps his skinny arms around your back and pulls your chest down against his, sweaty and hot skin pressed together so closely as he brings his mouth up slightly to meet yours, his wet tongue licking into your mouth as you moan around it, feeling his hips begin to slowly jut up against yours and effectively drive his cock deeper into your sensitive cunt

♡ even when the two of you are so hot, so overwhelmed with heat in the dewey and humid room, you hold each other so closely as you cum, his arms wrapped tightly around your back to keep you pressed against his chest and your arms on each side of his head with your hands tangled in his messy brown hair, tugging the strands as you feel his nails slightly digging into the skin of your back in response to your wet cunt tightening around him, his breath growing even heavier and more ragged into your mouth as he feels your cunt spasming around him, groaning deeply alongside your breathy moans when he feels your cum soak his cock and your slow movements almost come to a complete halt atop of him

୨୧ his own orgasm is quickly brought on by your own, by the feeling of your wet cunt gripping his sensitive cock so tightly as he gently begins to thrust up into you with more strength and desperation, his short nails leaving small crescent indents in the hot and sweaty skin of your back as his cum shoots deep inside of you whilst your mouths part just slightly to breath and pant, your hot breath mixing as your noses bump against each other

♡ but neither of you make any attempt to move from your position, jørn simply letting you rise up from his chest to grab the blunt still resting in the ashtray, he watches with bloodshot eyes and a boyish smile as you bring it up to your pink lips, inhaling deeply before releasing the smoke back through your still wet with spit lips and letting out a raspy laugh when you see jørn watching you from below, watching you with such a deep look of lust and love in his eyes before he makes a gesture for the blunt, motioning for you to bring it down to his lips which you do with a fucked out smirk on your blushing face

“ hm… look so beautiful, baby… here, bring that down to me… ” ( you go to pull the blunt away from his mouth much sooner than he would like as his hand rises from your hip to hold your hand still, holding the blunt in his mouth as he takes a deep inhale before letting you pull your hand away and blowing smoke out through his dry mouth )

୨୧ when high, jørn absolutely loves going for multiple rounds, rarely even changing positions, he just waits until you have both caught your breath before bringing his hands to your hips and guiding you to begin grinding down on his cock one more, his mind hazy and craving more of you, more of the pleasure that overwhelms him… he will only change positions if you begin to whine and tell him that your thighs ache, gently and slowly rolling you over into the missionary position on the sweaty and rustled sheets of the bed, rutting his hips into you and burying his head into the crook of your neck to pepper kisses against the heated skin as you drag your nails lightly down his sweaty back

“ your thighs sore, baby? ‘s okay… come here… ” ( his voice is so raspy and deep when high, always sending a jolt straight through your body and down to your cunt, making you clench around him )

♡ high sex with jørn is hot and heated, sweaty and sensitive with your minds heightened from the green leaf wrapped in brown rolling paper… the passionate sex in your dewey bedroom is near never ending with minimal breaks in between just to catch your breath and take hits from the blunt, for him to pull you down and shotgun thick smoke into your mouth before pushing his tongue into your mouth… and aftercare consists of a cold water shower together, his hands holding your hips as you both slowly begin to come down from both your orgasmic high and weed high, standing close and comfortable under the shower head as the cool water soothes your hot and sweaty bodies, jørn still laughing at nothing every few minutes, flashing a dopey smile when he makes you laugh by drinking water from the shower head in an attempt to help his cotton mouth brought on by smoking <3

[zoe-is-amazingg]

Could I request maybe Steve or Billy or JJ (I’m so sorry I’m so indecisive) where you’re at a party and a guy is being strange and invading personal bubble and Steve/Billy/JJ (whichever) steps in and is like jealous but justifiably and is just protective or however you think they’d react?

I’m so sorry and I hope this is okay, this is my first time requesting something and I feel like I’m about to sweat from stress and nerves

Too Close For My Liking Man

JJ Maybank X F!Cameron!Reader

W/C - 1.0K

Summary - Some guy is invading your space and JJ doesn't approve.

Warnings - Angst, fluff, swearing, alcohol use and alcohol + drug mention and that's abt it i think!

You toss around in your bed sheets as you hear booming music over the speakers Rafe set up in the house. Fuck him. You had a test at school tomorrow and you did not need this. Rafe didn't understand, he fails school and Dad still pays him money for motorbike fuel and crack. You fail and he'll disown you. Rafe was so privileged, and you hated it with every bone in your body.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you sigh and turn it on.

Sare-Bear 🐻

Babes, you need to come down here rn. Rafe is going to kill you.

Why?

Your little crush arrived.

Shit. Read 11:23 am

--------

You put a proper tight dress that you had for any occasion, you weren't about to show up in a baggy T-shirt and worn-out jeans. 'Your little crush arrived.' She meant JJ, a pouge. She was right, Rafe will kill you. As long as you reach JJ before he does. You put on heels and walk out of your room and down the stairs.

"Hey! Hey! Y/N! I was hoping to see you here!" JJ exclaims as he brushes your shoulder with his fingertips. "What the fuck are you doing here?!" You half yell, you grab his wrist and lead him into your bedroom.

"We're already in your room princess? I thought you would've had some drinks first before we got in this position." He smirks. You shake your head and try to not say something back like you usually would. He looks at your bookshelf and scans the books with his fingers. "Answer the question." You mutter out.

"Uh, I'm here because the pouge were having drinks at the chateau, right? Anyway, Kie and Pope went somewhere and John B, I don't even fucking know, but I turned on the TV and started thinking about us!" He explains and you tilt your head ever so slightly at him. "In what way?"

"Well, we flirt, all the fucking time right, so what if we were more." He asks, taking a step closer to you, you were still at the door, fingers crossed no one will come in and ask why you had a man-whore of a pouge in your room. "Uh, two things, one, my dad will kill me, two, Rafe would kill both of us."

"But I just think that you're so pretty and th-""Look, JJ, I really am flattered, but we will never work, you're a pouge, I'm a kook and my parents and sibling will kill my ass." You interrupt him and he nods. He looks so sad; you would do anything just to make this moment never exist. Fuck the test tomorrow you just broke a friendship with someone who meant some much to you and as what he is saying to you makes so much sense to your heart it doesn't as much to your brain.

He steps closer to you and places a kiss on your lips so softly and breaks the kiss. You really wanted more, but you wanted alcohol more now. "Bye, Y/N." JJ mumbles as he leaves. Shit. Shit. Shit. You wish with everything that you could retake those words and never of said them in the first place. You wish that you let him finish his goddamned sentence.

You slowly walk out of your room and down the stairs. You walk into the kitchen and find a bottle of Malibu and slowly pour out shots for yourself until a guy comes around and slowly starts making small talk with you. "So, what are you doing all alone?" He asks you.

"I actually live here for your information." You slur. He smirks at your remarks and cups your elbow. He tries to pull you in, but you push away. "Have you had one to many, princess? I didn't know you lived here." You sigh and push off the counter and try to go to the bathroom, but he stops you and holds your waist.

As soon as he said princess, that's when you wanted nothing to do with him. It reminded you too much of the friend you just lost about thirty minutes prior to when he came around. Fuck, you really couldn't get out of talking to him, could you?

"So, are you dating someone? Or are you mine for the taking?" The guy asks and you nod your head. He was holding your waist hard, too hard. You wanted to disappear and never see him again, but as soon as you try pull away, his grasp on you grows stronger.

"I'm-""Taken. By me, so please, step away, you're standing too close for my liking man." You hear JJ say, the look on the creeps' face as he backs away from you and JJ takes you to your own bedroom. You hug him as soon as the door closes and your press a kiss to his forehead. "Thank you so much, I don't know what I would've done without you." You whisper in his ear. As soon as you back away, your eyes go to his lips and his hands slither around your waist. Your lips hover inches away from each other's as you decide to break the gap and kiss him. Your arms twine around his neck and you giggle as you both break the kiss.

"I think we might just make it after all." You smile

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------A/N - Please request things if you want! I have a couple that I am working on but here is the people that I write for ***

Taglist request here **

@idky5

[invisiblegarters]

Only Friends Ranking - Ep 1

Will probably never liveblog this one because I'm watching with a friend (if you read this you're the best thank you for putting up with me and my crazy lol) and so we mostly talk to each other during. :D Never done that before and I have to say it's already a blast.

So now that I am slightly more coherent and not just flailing about making high pitched sounds and flapping my hands (I believe I can fly) here's how I feel about our characters and their relationshipsI re:

Characters (Most to Least Fave atm)

Sand: As expected, I adore him. He's so tough but such a marshmallow underneath, I worry because it looks like he's signing himself up to get his heard trampled, and much as I enjoy First's tears (me and all of GMMTV I think), I just hate knowing that he's gonna be going through it, haha. Sand protector indeed. Heartbreak sucks and he's gonna feel it firsthand here. I really enjoy how irritated he is 90% of the time but I am worried that Ray of all people is gonna be his bi awakening. Please BL Jesus no. Also I hope he keeps his backbone because one thing I can't stand is a character who gets spineless the second they fall in love. Also please don't make him sing anymore I adore him but a singer he is not. He really does have the look though. Impeccable vibes.

Boston: Second fave right now, also as expected. I just love his slutty, slutty ass. Love that he mixed business with pleasure to mess around with Top again and instead he has to deal with Top setting his sights on Mew. Love that he's hooking up with everyone, no wonder Neo was like "I never have any clothes on" lol. Whether or not he cares about Top as a person, he is definitely feeling some kind of way about Top not wanting a repeat of their hookup (and Top has already told him this. Boston, babe. Either you are smitten or you are just that much of a narcissistic asshole. Could go either way really). I adore him and every ridiculous bone in his body. If they want to bring in a new dude every episode for him to go at it with I would not say nay.

Chueam: I knew she'd be high up on the list because Lookjun, but I would like April to appear please. I love how encouraging she is towards the whole TopMew thing, and girl, I feel you on the "have some fun, get laid, he's hot" thing. Lesbians next ep please

Mew: First surprise for me. I adore this guy. Adore him. He knows exactly what he's worth and he's paying attention, my guys - he clocked Top pretty fast so you can't tell me he's not fully aware of both Boston's and Ray's feelings (still loathe the idea of a RayMew endgame but mostly because the Ray of it all, lol). He's pretty and quiet and doesn't like to party like his friends so everyone assumes he's this naive dumbass (and I mean everyone - I think from Top to Ray to Boston to Chueam they all see him much the same) who doesn't know what he's about, and yet he keeps showing (not telling, this is Jojo at work and I love him for it) that he really, really isn't. Top is going down, my guys. Mew is gonna wreck this man so hard that he's not going to know which way is up and I for one am here to see it go down. If he makes out with Sand a little about it I wouldn't complain (I know, but hey. I can dream).

Nick: I admire a dude who will put a thirst pic on another dude's phone as a come on. I appreciate that he knows what he wants and he's going for it, and I anticipate he's gonna go full on crazy in a way no one expects when things start to go bad with Mr. Boston, and I am fully seated and waiting with the biggest of grins on my face.

Ray: I knew he would be awful, and I am so so happy! I can't tell you how pleased I am right now - he's awful! The way he grabbed Sand's face like he was a prize dog at a show and not a person

(exhibit A)

was pitch perfect, I hate his guts (mostly affectionate). And yeah yeah deep-seated insecurities and probably daddy issues blah blah I don't care. I'm nine thousand percent positive he's only going to get worse and I am here for it. I do like that we can already see exactly how needy he is - he's going to be so needy and I fully expect him to lash out the second he feels like he's needed in return because he's so used to taking, I want to see him and Sand really go at it once Sand gets fed up with the bottomless black hole of need he clearly is (please Sand get fed up with it), especially since it's clear that the only person he's willing to give concessions to is Mew. I desperately want Sand to wreck him but well. I also highly doubt it'll happen. We'll see. I fully expect that I will hate him for real at some point (it's on my bingo card) but if anyone can drag me around to loving him in the end it's Khaotung. Hopefully there's growth in store for him, else he'll get boring very quickly.

Top: Ah, Top. SO OTT that you know he absolutely doesn't mean it. WHen he grabbed that mic I was so terrified. I can barely handle whateverthehell First was doing I can't do Force as well. Please don't put me through it I will cry. He's just...not my favorite. Yes he's a playboy and yes he's gonna say a lot of playboy things and I honestly can't wait to see Mew destroy him.

Relationships (most to least fave)

Currently, I want to know what is up with Top and Sand so badly that it is painful. I desperately want them to be bitter exes but my real guess is that Top fucked around with someone Sand cares about and he hates him good for it, while Top has no clue who Sand even is. My first guess is a relative but could just be a close friend. Sand hates him though, and I love it. I want them to angrily make out about it.

MewTop has me in a chokehold right now, completely unexpectedly. I am not a ForceBook fan - they were cute in Enchante but I had not time for ABAAB so I expected they'd be meh to me. Not so. I'm obsessed. I can't wait to see them implode and for Mew to go full crazy.

BostonNIck: Again, I just think Nick is gonna go off in a way no one expects. It's always the sweet, quiet ones (see: Mew, even though I don't actually think he's all that sweet really).

RaySand: I like their antagonistic thing but I'm really incredibly not here for Ray being Sand's first bi experience, although I think it would make sense for Sand, who is way sweeter than his tough exterior implies (compare this with Mew, who has the sweetest of exteriors but I suspect could easily cut a bitch and not even flinch), to fall head over heels for the first guy who comes along and rocks his world (and whatever else you can say about Ray - and I'm sure I at least will - I'd bet cash money he is very very good in bed). This was honestly the one I thought would have me in a chokehold in spite of myself so I'm surprised to be less invested in it than I am the other two right now. I assume once the angst really kicks in though it'll get me even though I'd rather it not, because the one thing that will always be true about me is I love angst.

Also I was today years old when I discovered that some people think that First and Khaotung have no chemistry. This bluescreened my brain for a good five seconds, lol. Send help.

In conclusion

I really liked the ep. It gave good set up and a good foundation for all the mess that we know is to come, also I lost the betting pool on who Boston was messing around with in the trailer (I hoped Ray, guessed Papang, was blindsided by Drake). I would love to chat about this with any and everyone. because I don't want to annoy my watch buddy too much and yet I am already obsessed and fear I might. I'd apologize for the person I am about to become but well, I'm not really sorry. 😊

I am also very much looking forward to the meta that is going to come out of people much smarter (and less prone to making silly jokes) than me.

Only Friends Era let's goooo!