#i can't play anymore i can't cash these in

[maplesynth]

no fuckign way

[iridescene]

A number of my Genshin mutuals being over the game... Understandable, honestly.

[zoekrystall]

"I need to watch my money" I said. "I am not even that hyped for it. I just watch streamers/let's players" I said.

(nonetheless I absolutely won't liveblog nor reblog spoilers and if will they be tagged. at most sharing stuff on my private twt acc)

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

30 / 1.1k / soap soulmate au, part 7

...

The minutes tick by. You're alone with your thoughts. It's worse than before. But what are you supposed to tell him? All but the smallest thing you could give him would lead his entire team to Captain Graves, and you... you can't do that. You owe him a debt.

The door slams open and Soap walks back in, looking tired and angry. Before you can speak, he grabs you by the arm, drags you out of your chair, and then he's kissing you, pressing you up against the wall. His hands are in your hair and on your hips, his hard body against yours, his teeth finding the place where your neck meets your shoulder.

Everything about it is possessive, angry, desperate. One hand slides around to your ass. The other weaves tighter into your hair, holding you tight between him and the wall, his hips grinding into yours.

"Thought I was gonna have to wait till you stopped being so damn stubborn. You were never going to tell me, were you?" His soft growl is low, heated, and hurt. "You’re always gonna keep this to yourself. Even if it means letting me go to my grave."

He pulls you away from the wall and pushes you into the metal interrogation table with enough force to put you on your back. He advances on you. Straddles you. His mouth is hot and he's not giving you time to think. He's taking what he needs because he wants it, he's tired of waiting for it, and he's finally got you where he wants you. His teeth on your throat have you arching your back. His grip is tight but you don't want to escape.

His fingers dig into you. "Will you even miss me?"

You open your eyes, jolting in place. A dream, it was a dream. You're still cuffed to this stupid chair. You're hot and wet and there's a horrible knot in your throat.

The door slides open. That's what woke you--activity outside. A few people filter into the weapons closet briefly to grab rifles and sidearms. They hardly spare you looks. They leave; the voices outside begin to fade and you hear an engine firing up. Muted panic rises in your gut. They're about to leave. Are they leaving you here? Is Johnny gone already?

Then the door rattles softly and Johnny's familiar shape slips in. He glances back out the door, watching for anyone who might’ve seen him slip in before he closes it. You release a breath through gritted teeth.

"Mornin’.” Soap is suited up, radioed, armed to the teeth. Looking every inch the soldier he is. Your heart sinks. You're in deep. No matter how this situation turns out, it's not good for you. Whoever wins, you lose.

Instead of taking the chair, he circles behind you. You rattle your cuffs as he leaves your line of sight.

"Change your mind?" he asks you.

"No."

He chuckles. "Thought not."

He bends closer. Your heart races. You half-expect to feel his hands--your dream flashes through your mind--but then, to your surprise, you hear the soft clink of metal on metal. He pulls on the cuffs. One falls away. Then the other.

You get to your feet, curling and uncurling your fingers. "Why are you letting me go?" you ask, voice still sharp. "I told you I'm not helping you."

Soap looks bemused. It's like you don't know how to stop being belligerent even when you're not a hostage anymore. "Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I’m under strict orders not to let you leave this room. But if you just so happen to vanish..." He holds up the key--the one he'd swiped from Ghost earlier. "That’d be fine with me.”

“What are you playing at?”

“There's a chance none of us will come back. Don't like the idea of you sittin' here like a rabbit in a trap for God knows how long." He holds out a neat little square of folded cash. When you don't take it, he reaches around and slips it into your back pocket. "There's a town four miles southwest of here. Set off in a half hour and you’ll get there before sundown. Take somethin' off the wall to protect yourself."

You stare at him, your frustration growing with every word he says. Why does he trust you enough to free you? Why? He knows very well you could pick up the first phone you see, call your Captain, and tell him everything. Hell, you could call Shepherd.

You tried your dead fucking best to show him who you are. Why doesn't he believe you? Does he think you're going to grab his hand and ask him to come with you--fuck the Shadows, fuck Las Almas, you know how to buy fake IDs and burner phones, you'll figure it out a day at a time?

Your throat tightens. You could obviously never say that. And if you did consider it, you'd bite your tongue because there's no way he'd accept. You have so much to gain from running away and he has too much to lose. He cares about his team too much.

He skims his gloved fingertips up your arm and goes to touch your cheek again, but then he hesitates and stops himself. You feel radioactive.

"How 'bout a kiss for the road?" he asks. He seems to decide on taking a strand of your hair and places it tentatively behind your ear. "Just in case."

Your hands tighten into fists. How dare he.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't make me walk away from you disappointed." He gives you a small, infuriating smile.

"If you want a kiss, then come back for it when you're done."

"Ah. Fair enough."

He brings his hands up to the sides of your face and presses his lips to your hairline anyway, leaning into you for a long, silent moment.

Then he's gone.

…

You sit cross-legged on that table for a long stretch of time, spinning in one hand the handcuffs that held you. You stare at that photograph and count the seconds. At thirty minutes, you set off, walking southwest.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / [part 7] / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[n30nwrites]

Fetch (Shifter! Tf141 x Male! Reader)

Chapter 4 of Good Doggy

Masterlist

Tw - Drunk Assholes (inspired by real stories from me :)), Slight blood warning, Language (its a COD fanfic??), OKAY SO LIKE I GUESS SLIGHT SUGGESTIVE STUFF?? I WANTED TO MAKE IT LONGER. A SMALL SCENE OF NSFW BUT NOTHING TOO DEEP BUT STILL PUTTING A WARNING, ITS IN BETWEEN THE NSFW GRAPHICS. Gaz has a praise kink.

Beta Reader/Editor - @letmelickyoureyeballs

Updated: 3/5/2024

The bar is filled. It’s a Friday night, of course it is but you hate it. You don’t like dealing with assholes. Not after the conversation with Maya.

“I cannot serve you anymore. If you don’t decide to leave I will call the cops.” The man in front of you shouts profanity after profanity, angered by the law. Humans were stupid that way. “Here’s a water.” You slam it down, annoyed.

Idiots. Drunken idiots.

Yeah by Usher starts playing. The club you worked at was loud, you have ear plugs in just so you wouldn’t be overstimulated by everything, but you could still hear enough.

“Why do you have a mask on?” He's irritated already which means that this conversation will not end well. You usually strive to give your coworkers the assholes, not caring that he'll have to deal with it. 

"It's to stay safe, I don't want to get sick-"

The man cuts you off and you debate on spitting in his drink, "That's not gonna keep you safe, the only way to stay safe is to build your immune system." He keeps yelling, and some spit leaves his mouth. You place down the menu in front of him as he keeps yelling, "That's the only way to stay safe, not a stupid mask!" 

You walk away, going to your coworker and telling him to get his order cause if you do you'll be fired. You instead went over to the list of music that was going to play and put on a favorite song of yours, not caring for some disgruntled noise from other patrons as you bobbed your head to the beat, distracting yourself from the day you had.

"Ye lik' this song mo gaol?" It's the familiar accent and the way the hairs on your arms stand makes you more irritated. It was roughly 1 a.m. and most people would be tired. You'd reckon it would start slowly down in 20 minutes, which meant you could get some work done.

You turned to face Soap.

"I'd hope so, I chose it." You tell him as you get closer to him. "You still stalking me?"

"Ah'ahmnot a stalker, juist wanted a drink." He smiles boyishly, as if he wasn't Sergeant John ``Soap" MacTavish with more confirmed kills than unconfirmed.

"At the bar I work at?"

"Juist a coincidence"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't lie to me." You told him while you mixed a drink. "You obviously have something for me."

"A'm in loue wi' ye"

"Not possible." You tell him, interrupting his "confession". You set the drink down in front of him. "$13" You tell him the price.

"I didnae orda a drink?" He looked cheeky, and you wished some part of you didn't find him attractive. But he looks up at you and you can't help but imagine other scenarios, particularly some where you're both naked.

"Well you can either pay for the drink and drink it, or pay for the drink and I'll drink it and talk with you some more." Soap immediately puts down two 20s.

"Th' rest can go to mah bartender." You slip the extra cash into your pocket, going to your POS system and breaking out for your thirty minute break that was required. You grabbed the drink on the counter and left your work area, Soap following behind like a puppy. You found a booth in the corner most people avoided. Sitting down at what could fit five others at most. Your mind goes back to Maya, who’s probably taking care of Icarus, your dog, and Marigold, her familiar. Maya worked as well, but it was an in-house job where she dealt with customers in need of assistance.

"You hurt our feelin`s earlier," He says first as you take a sip of the drink you made. "Hae we dane something tae offend ye?"

"Don't want to get your hopes up." You tell him, "I'm not one for soulmates."

"So ye know?"

"Of course I do. You reek of wolf." He starts to sniff himself and you want to laugh at how ridiculous it looks. "You wouldn't be able to smell it. And it's not a bad smell, just obnoxious cause there's four of you."

"So ye aren't human." 

"Nope, never was."

"What are ye?" You never felt shame in what you were. Didn't feel shame in general, it took Maya for you to start walking around in clothes. 

But you didn't want to tell him. 

"None of your business."

Gaz knows that Price is going to talk about the bloodshed in the morning. He knows that Price already knows but doesn't care to stop it tonight. Price is just too drunk, Ghost doesn’t care, and Soap is who knows where. It wasn’t like he killed humans tonight, just some animals that were definitely going to get the town's attention (He might’ve killed a bear) but not the hunters.

He's decorated in blood and he loves it. It soothes some messed-up part of him. His teeth still have specks of flesh in it, that he licks clean

He smells you. Heavenly you. You who smells like some plant burning. He didn't understand it, but he loved it.

You're next to Soap, and Soap has the biggest grin as you walk together. 

Though you probably don't see it as together. You probably see it as him stalking you, but you don't seem to have your usual air of distaste. You have sunglasses on, something he hates cause he can't stare at them. Your mask is black, and you also have a hood on. You look perfect, he just wishes you were in his bedroom.

Preferably naked and-

Nope.

He kind of hates it at the same time though. Soap getting so close to you, still determined to find a way to be with you. Soap didn't lose hope, not like Gaz did. But he'd be damned if he didn't do something. He lets out a growl, standing menacingly as he runs forward, towards both of you, knocking Soap down as he growls at him, his teeth snapping. If Gaz doesn't get to be happy, Soap shouldn't either.

He just wasn't expecting your reaction.

"Get off him." He followed your command, staring up at you and following your eyes when you bent down to be eye level with him. "God you are so..."

"Cute." Your voice gets higher as you gently rub behind his ears, the blood not bothering you at all. Gaz almost forgets how you looked at him earlier, your words that cut him melted away and he just thinks he has a chance.

You loved dogs, who wouldn't? Even if that dog was actually a grown (hot) man. 

"Look who's such a pretty boy." You kept rubbing his head as Soap just stared in shock. "Such a handsome boy, who did you eat?" You coo at Gaz, who leans into your touch and praise, enjoying everything about this moment. Gaz has to take a moment to remember himself, that the praise you give him is nothing.

But he can't help but imagine scenarios in a different setting.

NSFW Start

It's such a simple setting. In his room, the lights are low. He's flushed, shirtless and on the floor, while you sit above him.

"Can't you be a good boy for me?" You lick your lip before biting it, you stare at him, your eyes actually showing, looking at him with lust and love. A perfect combination, and your lips, god, you were perfect for him. "Come on, you know you want to." You lower your shorts and Gaz gulps, he stares at your cock, mesmerized.

"You're hungry for it, aren't you whore?"

NSFW End

"Arr ye fecken' kidding me?" Soap says, breaking the peaceful moment, and Gaz's daydream. "A' it took wis a wolf fur ye to lik' us?" 

"I still don't like you all, but dogs are always a great company." You keep petting him, Gaz's eyes closing slightly, and Soap sits up. 

"Ah can do that toh." His accent gets thicker as he rushes to grab your hand, forcing it away from Gaz and instead putting it in his hair. Which was mostly shaved on the sides.

"You aren't a cute puppy right now." You yank your hand away.

"He's fooken' bloody!"

Gaz licks your face, and you slightly smile.

----

NEXT

Listen, hating people is one thing but I could never hate a dog, let alone a wolf. Reader still doesn't feel comfortable around the boys, but he does like the dogs.

[archangeldyke-all]

more plug sev pls ☹️ it can be like almost anything just pLEASE

heheheheheh gonna combine this

giving Sevika sloppy head 🙂‍↕️ under a desk...or.....in a public space

men and minors dni

sevika looks so fucking good right now.

she's got enough regular customers for her to not need to go to parties to sell much anymore, but from time to time she'll get an invite to a party she just can't turn down.

she's dragged you along-- insisting that she's horrible at socializing without you, despite the fact that she's got a crowd of partygoers cackling at her jokes and stories right now.

you're watching from the couch, a small smile playing at your lips as you watch your girlfriend easily work a crowd. her henley sleeves are tugged up around her forearms, her hair is loose and brushing her cheeks, and her fingers are quickly rolling up a few joints for the crowd.

she looks up, her eyes finding yours across the room immediately, a shy smile on her lips when she catches you staring. she nods her head, trying to summon you toward her, and you go easily, moving through the crowds of people to wrap your arm around her waist while she wraps hers around your shoulders.

"what're you starin' at, huh?" she asks. you snort.

"there's a really hot weed dealer here."

sevika grins and ducks her head. "shut up." she mumbles. you giggle and kiss her cheek.

for a few minutes, you help her roll joints and count cash, snatching one for the pair of you to share, the two of you getting gigglier in the corner as you slowly smoke it between customers. but as the night gets later, more people start dancing and drinking, and pretty soon you and sevika are all alone in your little corner.

"so..." you start, trailing your hands up sevika's arms to grope her biceps. she smirks at you.

"so?"

"so... you think i got a shot with that dealer?" you ask. sevika giggles and swoops in to kiss you. it's far too sweet and chaste for your taste-- but you'll change that soon enough.

"baby, i think you got that dealer wrapped around your finger." she says. you grin and kiss her again.

"you look way too fuckin' good tonight, y'know." you mumble against her lips. she chuckles.

"yeah, my girlfriend helped dress me." she says. you smirk.

"she's got good taste."

you've both started swaying to the music, and you trail your hands down to grab sevika's hips, slowly pushing her further and further away from the crowd. "and where exactly are we going?" she asks. you giggle.

"well... you've got a few options. we could go out to the back patio, there's a few people out there you haven't met yet."

"or?" sevika asks. you grin.

"or we could go to the bathroom so i can get my fucking mouth on you-- show you how crazy you drive me."

sevika gulps, then she grabs your wrist and drags you down the hallway. you cackle the entire way.

it takes a few tries to find an empty room. there's couples hooking up everywhere-- drunk girls crying in the bathroom and people making out in the supply closets-- but eventually you find an empty bathroom.

you pull sevika in by her belt loops, slamming her against the door as you fiddle with her belt buckle, launching forward to slam your mouth against hers. sevika whimpers against your mouth and you sigh sweetly. "i fuckin' love you." you say.

sevika smiles as you start to kneel before her, tugging her pants and boxers down her thighs. "fuck. i love you too, baby."

for a moment, the weed and the sight of sevika's wet cunt overwhelm you. you're stuck in place, your mouth going dry and your head getting fuzzy as you admire her.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." sevika giggles. you huff and pinch her thigh.

"i have pictures-- none of them are as pretty as the real thing."

"fuck off." sevika shudders, pulling a joint out from behind her ear and putting it between her lips. you kiss her happy trail, your eyes locked on hers while she lights up, watching in fascination as she blows the smoke out of her nostrils.

"gimmie a hit." you demand. sevika chuckles and rolls her eyes, but places the joint between your lips regardless. you take a quick hit, then kiss her knuckles.

"thought you wanted to get your mouth on me." she mutters as she pulls the joint back up to her mouth. you giggle.

"feelin' needy?"

"'course i am. got a beautiful girl on her knees in fronta me." she says, gently swiping your cheek. you smile.

"i'll take care of you, sev. you just stand there 'n look pretty." you say with a wink. sevika snorts, then cuts herself off with a moan when you dive forward and start eating her out.

fuck she tastes good. she's soaking wet too. you groan against her and she lets out a curse, her head falling back against the door and her hands threading through your hair.

"shit, baby, you're so fuckin' good at this. couldn't wait 'til we got home, huh?" she teases. you giggle a bit.

"not when you look so good." you say before diving back in. sevika moans.

with the weed in your system and sevika in your mouth you easily lose yourself in making your girlfriend fall apart above you. the sweet moans and grunts she's letting out are like music to your ears, and you can feel her cum and your drool starting to trail down your chin. you don't care. all you care about is the sweet twitch of sevika's thigh as she gasps and bucks into your mouth.

"f-fuck, baby, you're makin' me all messy." sevika whines.

you groan against her cunt, nodding up at her. "i love it." you mumble between kisses and sucks. sevika huffs.

"shit, i'm gonna cum. you look so fuckin' cute on your knees-- my cum all over your face-- fuck baby, you've been wantin' this all night?" she asks. you moan and nod against her.

there's a knock on the door and sevika jumps. you don't stop, just diving back in for more of her as she scrambles to get herself under control enough to shout. "just-- just a minute!"

you chuckle against her and she smacks a hand over her mouth to muffle her moan, flicking your forehead.

"i gotta pee!" a drunk voice calls through the door.

"well do a lap around the house and find a different bathroom!" sevika growls, her voice squeaking halfway through when you sink a finger inside her. she glares down at you. you just chuckle and press against her g-spot, smirking as she shivers.

"some fuckin' people." the drunk outside the bathroom huffs as they walk away.

sevika snaps her head back as she cums, her skull hitting the door, her fingers scratching your scalp, the joint falling from her parted lips and landing on the bathroom floor. you chuckle, dodging the joint to lick up every drop of cum that you can.

sevika's got hearts in her eyes when you finally pull away with a gasp to blink up at her.

"you okay?" you ask with a giggle.

sevika doesn't respond. instead, she swoops down, grabs you and the joint, and pulls you up into her arms, kissing you passionately. you gasp against her lips, and she groans at the taste of herself.

"let's get outta here. i made like six hundred bucks tonight-- i'll take you anywhere you like."

you giggle. "home? for some cuddles?" you request. sevika melts at your request and wraps you up in a hug.

"'s long as i can repay the favor once we're in bed." she mumbles against you. you laugh and nod, and pull the bathroom door open.

there's a line of about five people waiting when you stumble out into the hall, and they all boo and groan as you and sevika walk out.

you just laugh as sevika flips them off. "you're just mad none of you have a girlfriend like mine!" she yells.

you muffle your cackles against her shoulder.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom

[wannaeatramyeon]

The Crew Heads with Reader: Board Games

G/N. Silly. 4 small scenes. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo)

Bro Code | Dinner | Shopping | Television | Gacha | Board Games | Suits

"What the fuck?" Samuel glares at Johan who returns it with equal hostility.

"It's a word." Johan spits, arms crossed and defiant.

"Use it in a sentence."

"I'm going to kilp you."

"Johan will kilp you," Jake chimes in.

"Samuel will be kilped by Johan," Eli adds.

"Almost," you say, "But Johan I don't think that's a word-"

"3 to 2, overruled!" Jake grins, totting up the points from the Scrabble board. "Ok so that's triple word score too for God Dog. Fuck... he's in the lead."

.

.

"I just said you can't play a +2 on top of a +2 card!" Jake moans, looking at the stack of cards in the middle.

"Says who?" Johan asks, because that rule is stupid

"It sounds like bullshit but-," Eli scrolls on his phone, looking for a source. "Uno officially. The cards can't stack."

You lean over his shoulder, read the rule with your own eyes but disregard it anyway. "The fuck do they know."

"5 to 0, draw your cards asshole." Samuel leans back, smug when Jake add another 6 cards to his hand.

.

.

"You're cheating!" You screech as Jake freezes like a deer caught in headlights.

"No I didn't!" He holds up both hands in surrender. He absolutely did not cheat.

"You grabbed an extra 100 won, I saw you!"

"I didn't!" Jake protests his innocence.

"I saw him too," Eli says as Johan and Samuel both nod vigorously.

"What, owning most of the properties on the board isn't enough for you?" You say, jabbing a finger in Jake's chest. "And now you're cheating?!"

"But I didn't-"

"I don't want to play anymore!" You throw your cash in the air, standing up and stepping over the Monopoly board as the rest of the guys follow suit.

"But... I didn't." Jake mutters, looking at the mess of cash around him.

Ok. So he didn't cheat. In fact, you know for certain that everyone else did. It's just expected with a game like Monopoly. No-one becomes rich fairly with capitalism.

Poor Jake however, did play fair and square, ended up lucky with the community chest and chance cards which led to him owning the majority of the properties.

All of you, getting more pissed off by the minute but not wanting to admit defeat, slithered your way out of it by accusing Jake and throwing him to the wolves.

You promise to make it up to him, somehow. But you are not losing at Monopoly.

.

.

"Are you blind?" Johan growls when Samuel's hand comes down on the 9 that landed on top of the 6.

"Fuck off," he mutters, retreating and putting his own card down - an 8.

"I think Snap might not be for Samuel," Eli grins, placing a King face up, as Jake agrees that Math isn't Sammy's strong suit.

"Easy mistake," you shrug, rising to his defence. You have definitely done something similar many times. Not with these guys though.

You've never played Snap, that simple card game, with them. For good reason-

"Snap!" Jake shouts, hand slamming down after he places another King on top of Eli's.

The table legs creak, then with a sickening crash, collapses under the force of his power. The four crew heads and you are left sitting around a mess of splintered wood, spilled drinks and ruined cards.

"Oops."

Samuel rolls his eyes. "Well done, moron."

-And that's why you don't play Snap.

[deadindeathvalley]

"OMG I can't believe Brendon is playing AFYCSO at WWWY!! It's an insidious cash grab!!!!"

Then don't go.

"But it's been my dream to hear AFYCSO played live!!!!!"

Then go.

"But will Ryan be there????"

Ryan doesn't want anything to do with Panic at the disco and hasn't since 2009.

"Then I'm going to go and boo Brendon off stage!!!!"

Great that way you can ruin the experience for everyone who paid money to be there. Totally a cool and chill thing to do, instead of, I don't know, calming the fuck down and minding your business.

Ryan Ross doesn't want to be tied to the band anymore. It's been 15 years. Leave that man alone. Stop manufacturing drama between two people who want nothing to do with it. Either go and enjoy yourself or don't. Either way get over yourself.

[fallingdownhell]

May I request Zhongli, Itto, Kaveh and Cyno with an s/o who's got crazy good luck? They could win any challenge or game presented to them, never get hurt (to badly), and are always making loads of cash (somehow).

I can imagine at least one of those characters getting jealous over something like this.. Characters Included: Itto; Cyno; Zhongli; Kaveh Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; crack??; some fluff and comedy; nothing too serious here, just some funny headcanons Word count: 942 words Have fun with this<3

Itto

the man, the myth, the legend himself..

he gets SO incredibly jealous. When he challenges you jokingly at first, and you keep winning against him..

His pride is on the line here, okay?

you win a match of TCG against his amazing deck? That's fine, he can always challenge you for another round

but when you keep on winning and winning, he gets more and more desperate with each passing round

okay, screw TCG. How about a beetle fight? He's sure to win this, no doubt about it!

...what do you mean he lost again?

he's heartbroken. Will fall to the ground in disbelief. Have the gods truly forsaken him now?

a little drama queen about it, but it wouldn't be the Itto you know and love if he wouldn't act like this

still, you do feel a bit bad about it. To the point where you decide to only do the bare minimum and let him win against you, so he'll cheer up again

when he does win, his spirit is back up again immediately, bloating about his superior victory for the rest of the day. Like, seriously, he won't shut up about it anymore

unless someone were to mention all his previous losses, then he's back to sulking again

however, the next day, all is forgiven and forgotten again

Cyno

one night, after dinner, he was talking about his new deck in TCG when you decided to ask him if he could teach you how to play

immediate sparkles in his eyes as he gets all excited and pulls out a new set of cards for you. He's been waiting for this day to come!

takes his time to explain the rules to you and helps you build your deck. If you ask him questions, he answeres them paitently

then comes the time for your first duel. Even though you are his partner and it's your first ever match, he doesn't plan to go easy on you. Well, maybe a bit, but he still will take this match very seriously

But when you end up winning against him, he's dumbfounded. How did you manage to do that?

He'd quietly mumble something about beginners luck, then challenges you to a rematch. This time, he plans to go all out

...and he looses again

now thourougly confused, he's looking at his cards like he might find the answer in them, while you are laughing your ass off. Your stomach hurts from all the laughing, but you can't calm down. Cyno's just so cute when he looks so shaken up

it's a mystery to him, how you could win against him, despite him having the better cards, the better deck and obviously having more expierence playing the game

in the end, he does swallow down his pride and congratulates you to your win, though he will work his deck over and challenge you again at a later point in time

Zhongli

as an adventurer, it is unavoidable that people get injured every now and then. It's just a risk that comes with the profession

and yet, Zhongli has never seen an injury on you more severe than a cut and maybe some darker bruises

don't get him wrong, he's glad that you're not getting hurt all the time. It's just that your stories and the results don't match up most of the time

"And get this. Then, a huge rockfall comes falling down in our direction! Can you imagine that?" "Darling, that's very serious. How did you manage to avoid that?" "I don't know. Guess I just got lucky. I only got hit my a small one on the head, but it wasn't even big enoug to give me a concussion, so all's good!"

"I almost fell down a cliff today!", "A group of Ruin hunters attacked us today!", "We got locked in a cave, but luckily, they were connected to other caves, so we got out no problem."

almost every other day, you come home with a similar story and every time, Zhongli questions just how much luck one single human can possess to come out mostly unharmed every single time

still, every time you set out for work, he can't help but worry about you. What if one day, your luck runs out on you? You reassure him that you're careful, but it does little to appease his mind when you come home with yet another tale to tell...

Kaveh

Kaveh isn't one for gambling, never has been and never will be. Though, he knows that you like to induldge from time to time, so when you invite him to come along with you, he agrees

and then he witnesses you winning each and every game you partake in. Doesn't matter how rigged the games might be, you make it look so simple

with a huge grin on your lips, your arms raise into the air as you declare your victory one again, and he's left dumbfounded

when he catches a quiet moment, he can't help but ask you about it

"I don't know. I just always had really good luck when it comes to those type of games.", would be your nonchalant explanaition

now he gets why you don't go out to play more often. You'd get banned from every single location if you were to do this regularely

Going home from a place like this with such a massive win.. he's too stunned to speak, but nonetheless very impressed and proud of you for it

will accompany you more often when you want to go out to gamble again, just to see your excited and joyful expression again

[factorydefaultlu]

heyy! saw ur post and got so excited lol, can I request a vox x f!reader smut where vox stalks the reader and obsses over her, and eventually just so conveniently, reader shows up at vals studio to work- vox doesnt like that, chaos ensues

if you dont wanna do this ask that's completely fine lol I get it, have a good day/night!!

Jealous, Jealous Boy

Vox x Fem!Reader

TW: stalking, voyeurism, possessive behavior, general Yandere themes

Some people would call it stalking, Vox likes to surveillancing. More technical that way, he can excuse it as needing to gather footage for a new video.

He'd jerk off to the footage of you in the shower, and to the footage of you masturbating in bed, and to the footage of you just making dinner.

Vox is a creep, and he's ashamed of it, but that won't stop him from continuing what he does.

When just watching you on cctv wasn't enough anymore, he started paying visits to your apartment. Usually during the day when you were out, or in the odd hours of the night.

Small things would go missing. Things that are easily misplaced. Then you notice that your shampoo and conditioner are running low a lot faster than before. The washing machine surely can't be eating all your panties, and yet you're down to the bottom of your underwear drawer.

After a few months there'd be strange stains on your sheets, and your toothpaste would start to taste like salty static.

Val once caught Vox sneaking back into the studio with his pockets full of your used tampons.

Val decided to play cupid because that is an image he will never unsee. He snagged your address and sweet talked you into making a little extra cash, no strings attached. (yeah right)

Your schedule had changed the morning of your first day. The hidden cameras in your apartment showed it was empty. This concerned Vox, but it quickly turned to anger when he heard your voice in the studio.

Val should know better, but apparently not.

As soon as you were in the dressing room, Vox threw a fit. Busted a few light bulbs and threatened Val's life and career at least a dozen times.

Val promised to fire you as soon as Vox walked his ass into that dressing room and asked you out.

He can continue to be a creepy stalker, as long as he tacks the word 'boyfriend' at the end of it.

[kateswallofweird]

i miss the age of tumblr when mcu fanfictions were constant. post thanos snap so ig nomad!steve rogers x you ; will update wc later ; definitely not proofread

you didn't mean to fall in love with him. it just happened.

"they're after me again."

steve was up before you could even open your eyes. you felt the bed dip as you blinked away the remnants of sleep, and when you came to, he was frantically looking for his suit.

"it's hanging in the bathroom," you say, a yawn betraying you as you sat up, drawing the blanket closer to your body.

this was the third night in a row that he'd woken with a start, convinced that someone was coming to get him, to get you. it had happened in the past—the sense of impending doom, not the presence of a threat part—and every time anxiety filled him, you talked him down from his ledge of fear.

it was a consequence of the life he's lived for so long, you realized after his second panic. beneath the heroics (the risky plays that would leave anyone else for dead, the responsibility to run into fire when everyone else ran away) and all the power (the super serum and the expectation to always deliver), steve rogers was still a man whose heart pumped his body of blood and whose mind ran in circles when presented grief. a well aimed punch would still hurt him just like how years of fighting still incurs in him an unfamiliarity to peace.

"we need to leave," he mumbles. it's more to himself than it is a direction to you. "secure the perimeter. payments in cash. fake names and new disguises."

he fumbles with the zipper of his top. his hands start to shake, and the rings that line his eyes seem darker tonight.

"who's coming after us?" you ask, getting out of bed (despite your body aching for sleep) to help him. your fingers straighten out his armor, the rough kevlar fabric no longer leaving your fingertips raw.

when you look up from his suit, it's clear he's searching for an answer. his eyes scan the windows behind you, like he's expecting an assailant to launch themself through the glass at any moment.

"steve."

he is ripped from his anxiety by your voice. all it takes is his name, the gentle but commanding tone you take to bring him back down to earth.

"i . . ." but he can't even begin to form a sentence to tell you what's plaguing him.

he is a weathered version of the man he once was. captain america? what a joke; the modern day symbol of patriotism was laughable to him. he wasn't a hero anymore; he'd lost his fight. he was just . . . steve rogers now, a fugitive overridden with the fear of his past catching up to him.

"talk to me," you plead.

his chest tightens when his gaze meets yours.

"do you ever think about," he pauses, like he can't bring himself to say it, so you wait until he can. "do you ever think about how much better your life would be—without me?"

"never."

because you didn't mean to fall in love with him. you didn't mean to cross government lines and harbor a fugitive despite the growing consequences and a call for his return. you didn't mean to soften the heart of a hero growing sour, someone who's seen war and suffering and what happens when you fail to shoulder your burden. you didn't mean to find hope amidst the grief of a world half empty, spilling joy back into a man who was just about ready to give up. you didn't mean to fall in love with him. it just happened.

but you supposed that's what made love so beautiful; it's a choice. every day, every hour, every minute—it's a choice to stay and to do right by this person you've committed to.

"come back to bed. it's cold without you."

[syoddeye]

thinking about gaz specializing in vip protection.

gaz x gn!reader | ~660 words. tags: stalking, threats of violence and sexual assault, italics a/n: written on my phone during a lunch break, so there's that. apologies for any formatting issues.

gaz knows from the outset that the gig’s gonna be rough. that it’s not the usual kind of vip protection.

the client’s a victim of stalking and harassment. poor thing’s found dozens of foul messages painted on their front door, ranging from angry diatribes to garbled nonsense. letters left in their mailbox. notes tucked under their car’s wipers. their phone number and email address have been compromised repeatedly, and no amount of changing them shakes the bastard.

gaz does his best. he is the best. on the first day on the job, he lays out the ground rules and implements checks. they’re extensive. he sweeps every nook and cranny of the house when they leave or arrive. he looks under the beds, in closets, and behind the shower curtain. the client doesn’t set foot outside unless he gives them the okay. with their permission, he installs additional cameras and alarms. he’s insistent. he won’t take any chances, won’t compromise their safety. never failed a client, doll. not gonna fail you.

for a few weeks, the new measures work. the routines are strict but effective. gaz's client sleeps through the night. they stop losing their hair. they even feel safe enough to leave the house for public engagements.

his heart swells with pride. it’s flattering when his vip boasts about his skills and how safe they feel around him. he sees the lines between the personal and professional blur, but he doesn’t stop them from hanging off his arm when he escorts around town.

but the threats return with a vengeance. the stalker escalates. the tone shifts. the messages turn violent. sexual. they don’t just target the client this time, but gaz, too.

can't wait to fuck you on top of his body. 

stop making eyes at him or i'll gouge them out. 

gonna make him watch me fuck you, gonna make you watch me kill him.

gaz tries to comfort them. he phones old friends and calls in favors. whatever it takes to catch the bastard, he’ll do it. however, when someone tries to break in one night, the vip reaches their breaking point. gaz returns after chasing the would-be intruder off and finds them in hysterics. they can’t do this anymore. no amount of money or fame is worth it. they weepily announce a hiatus, quit their projects, and withdraw from their social life. they sever ties with their management team because, for all they know, they’re the ones leaking their information.

they rent a remote property under a pseudonym and use cash. they pick somewhere idyllic, surrounded by nature. time in isolation to clear their head and hopefully throw their stalker off the trail. of course, they keep gaz on as their personal protection. they trust him. they like him.

the land's beautiful. quiet. from the house, they can see for miles around. there isn't a chance that someone can sneak up on them out here. and with no internet or phone service, and mail only available for pick up an hour away, no one can reach them either. peace at last. the client thanks gaz for sticking by them. anything for you, doll.

that first evening, while walking the perimeter, gaz calls soap on his sat phone.

—you're well and true fucked in the head, sergeant.

—i thought i wrote pure poetry. they fuckin' worked.

—affirm. you on your way?

—aye. comin' in quiet like ye asked. ready to play hero again? gonna share?

—s'pose you've earned it. see you soon.

sure enough, there’s a dark shape outside the bedroom window when gaz checks. a crouching body, fogging the corner of the glass like a panting dog, invisible unless one knows to look. gaz gives the all-clear and excuses himself. he needs to relax. sweet dreams, doll.

just as he eases into an armchair, a blood-curdling scream echoes through the house before it’s abruptly cut off. he smiles to himself and takes his time, enjoying a drink. he might as well give soap some exclusive access before showtime.

[mackeydoodledoo]

She Wears Short Skirts, I Wear T-Shirts: Chapter 8

Pairing: Bridget (Cheerleader AU) x (Fem!)Reader

Chapter Summary: After spending time together, you have come to the realization that you begin to fall for Bridget all over again. But, you continue keeping your guard up, in fear of getting hurt again. But the both of you finally have a heart-to-heart...

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, Argument among Friends, 2nd Chance Slow-Burn, Trauma-Reveal, NSFW Implications

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, F/n = Friend's name, B/n = Band Name, Bold/Italic = Flashback

Chapter Theme(s): Small Apartment - The Foxies

A/n: The chapter we've all been waiting for :)

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

*Bridget's POV* You lock your car and head to the exit of the parking garage. Y/n told you to meet her at her apartment complex: that way the both of you can carpool to the gig together.

"I probably won't have you just lounging around. F/n's girlfriend most likely needs extra hands with merch," She says, "I can have her run the card machine and handle money, mostly help her getting fans the right merch and sizes."

"Sounds like a fair deal," You say, "I have practice soon, I'll text you."

You ring the bell to the room number that Y/n said that she was in. You hear another buzz and a sound from the door. You open the door and wait for it to close behind you and you walk up to the elevator.

You approach her door and gently knock.

"Coming!" Her voice replies, muffled through the door

She opens the door, "Hey you. Drive here okay?"

You nod.

"Perfect," She says, "Come on."

You follow her back down to the main floor and into the garage, heading to her car to get to the music venue.

+*+

After Y/n gets you checked in and an 'all access' wrist band, you stop right before you reach the main hall.

"You okay?" She turns to you

"Don't your friends... Hate me?" You ask

"They aren't fond of you, but they don't hate you," She clarifies

She laces her fingers between yours and gently pulls you in. F/n's girlfriend was setting up merch, and Y/n's friends were on the stage. But, all motion stops when they see Y/n, you lurking behind. F/n in particular narrows their eyes.

"Missed you pinky!" F/n's girlfriend smiles

"She ain't a pinky anymore!" The bassist states, "Where did all of that go?"

"Once I got to college," You answer

"Shoulda left it pink," F/n says, "That way it tells me you've haven't changed since high school."

"F/n, be nice," Her girlfriend yells from the merch booth, "She's here to support you guys!"

"She had many chances," She says, "Over the course of four years..."

*Y/n's POV* "Will you not do this tonight?" You ask, "I get you're still upset. But, you and I promised to not bring up high school shit..."

"Fine," She growls

*Bridget's POV* "Hey, will you take care of Bridget tonight?" Y/n turns to F/n's girlfriend, "Give her the run down. I want her mostly running merch to the fans and you cashing them out."

"You got it boss," She gives her a thumbs up

+*+

You and Y/n's F/n girlfriend watch from backstage as the band performs. You were sure that Y/n intentionally looks over whilst she's playing to get glimpses of you. You remember seeing Y/n's band for the first time.

Wait... Is that?....

You watch as the drummer plays with her soul. The way the limbs on her body have a mind of their own... Playing four different things... Having to keep the entire band together....

Something about that drummer attracts your eye to her and her in particular... She looked extremely familiar too...

It can't be....

But it might be. You decided to stick around after the show.

"Bridget, you coming?" Your cheerleader friend asks

"I'm sticking behind a bit," You say

"Why?" She asks, "Want to meet the low-known bands?"

"There's someone who looks familiar," You explain

"Suit yourself," She leads the rest of your friend group out of the door

You and F/n's girlfriend run back to the merch table as Y/n's band begins their final song in their set: already seeing a line of people waiting at the table. As you bring up merch from their boxes, you see Y/n's F/n coming up to the merch table... Almost immediately you stop working and watch as she comes up to the table.

"Come on pinky, don't be lazy now," She tells you

"F/n," Her girlfriend growls, "She's been working hard this entire time. She only stopped when you came up here."

"Oh, so it's my fault that pinky freezes up?" She asks

"Can you not be so upset about what happened 4 years ago?!" Her girlfriend asks

"Can't help it if she's one of the reasons Y/n doesn't believe in love anymore," She states

"Oaky if you're going to act like this, don't be here," She tells her girlfriend, "Go help your friends bring equipment outside and cool off."

She looks at you one last time and walks off, trying to play it cool in front of the fans. You see Y/n coming up as they were leaving tp go backstage.

"You okay?" She yells

You nod, but hurt at what her friend said to you. Even though she was right.

Y/n remained by your side after she loaded her equipment, but you helped break down the merch table.

+*+

The both of you get food on the way back to Y/n's apartment. However, you notice how she drove to the roof of the parking garage. As you follow her out of the car, she sits on top of the trunk cover.

"Come sit," She says, gesturing the open spot next to her

As you do, you see all of the city lights on.

"How was the show for you?" You ask, trying to make more conversation

"Honestly.... The playing itself? Immaculate," She answers, "The vibes between us? Absolute shit..."

"I'm sorry about your friend," You say, "Maybe it wasn't a good idea that I came..."

"She's not over the fact I got hurt, despite that it hadn't affected me much in the last few years," Y/n says, "I've known her for a long time... So... I guess it's an appropriate friend's reaction to seeing you. But, I was not pleased with the fact that they were making lowly remarks at you, and I didn't like the fact that they were bringing up high school shit when we both agreed not to anymore..."

"She's right you know," You begin talking down at yourself

"She may be, but doesn't make it okay to simply bring it up to insult you," She says, "Ever since I drove you home that one night, she's... Been different..."

"Different how?" You ask

"Simply... Just been more argumentative with me," She says, "We never were on show days but tonight was just.... Not the vibe..."

"You guys don't have any more shows do you?" You ask

"There may be a few more shows, but I'm not entirely sure yet. I just hope that her girlfriend will smack the shit out of her and make her see sense," She says, "F/n has been with a handful of people before finding her. Even after finding her, F/n hadn't fucked around since."

"She said that... I'm the reason that you no longer believe in love," You say, "Is... Is that true?"

"In a way, it is true," She says, "But, to put it lightly, I just didn't bother dating. I was always wanting to be invested in other things."

To get your mind off of me...

"I can't believe that I hadn't come to the city enough," You say, changing the subject, "The view here is to die for."

"Hah yeah, but finding a place for groceries isn't easy in the city," Y/n says, "When I first moved over here, I was living off convenient store noodles for months. Still kinda do when I don't want to make anything intricate but I've managed to find a few grocery places around."

You shudder at the sudden gust of wind. You watch as Y/n drapes her jacket over your shoulders.

"Thanks," You say, "What about you?"

"I've sat up here enough where I don't even feel the cold I just feel free," She says

+*+

After the post-concert dinner moment, the both of you go back down to Y/n's parking spot and back to her apartment. However, only notice a single bed.

"Are we... Going to share a bed?" You ask

*Y/n's POV* "Why would I want to share a bed?" You ask back

"Because the bed can fit two people and it's more comfortable," Bridget says

"You'd be surprised on how comfy a couch is," You say, pulling the couch, turning it into a bed, "It's also a bed."

"Okay, but I don't see how sharing a bed is a bad idea," She says, "I wouldn't do anything to you, not unless you give consent."

"It's not that," You say, "I'm offering a guest staying at my place, my bed. It's not that hard to comprehend."

"Okay, I can see you're still upset about something," She says, "Come on, spill it."

"You make it sound like it's so damn easy," You sigh in frustration

"It's just the two of us here," She attempts to reassure you, "So you can tell me."

"Well, I just might hurt your feelings this time," You say

*Bridget's POV* "Go on then," You clear your throat, taking a few steps back, "Hit me then. What can you say that will hurt me?"

She begins to pace back and forth.... Whispering nonsense.

"Does this have to do with you wasting each intimate moment we have between us?" You ask

"What?" She asks

"You didn't think I'd notice?" You ask, "Each time I feel like I'm one step closer in winning you back, you back away. Making me think you want me one moment and then the next you want nothing to do with me. So which is it Y/n?"

"I'm wasn't 'wasting' any intimate moments," She says, "They weren't anything."

"Yes they were," You say, "I could see it on your face."

"I don't recall any moments that were 'intimate'," She says, clearly lying

"So.... Us earlier wasn't... Anything?" You ask, "You draping your jacket over me wasn't 'anything'? Each time our faces got closer, your eyes looked at my lips? "

"Well, you were cold, like your dumbass didn't bring a thicker jacket," She argues

"The time where you kissed my forehead after sort of catching up for the first time in 4 years?" You ask

"You were beginning to go on and you looked stressed," She makes an excuse

"Jesus you need to stop making excuses and just-"

"I'm not," You say

"Yes you are," She argues, "Just rip it off like a bandaid, I don't care that it would probably hurt me! I've been hurt-"

"Goddamnit Bridget I'm falling for you all over again!" She raises her voice, "Or... At least my feelings for you never went away and I still like you... A shit load."

Her confession silences you... Your heart flutters as the oxygen in your lungs exit your body.

"But... That terrifies me," She continues

"Why?" You ask, genuinely curious, "I'm not with him anymore.... Nor do I want anything to do with him."

"I know," She says, trying to hold back her tears, "But.... I'm scared... I'm scared that if I fall this time... It'll end like last time... You'd... You'd be gone..."

Silence rings over the both of you again.... You wanted to tell her that you also never stopped loving her, thinking about her, even when you were with Hook... She was on your mind the entire time... But, you could see how hurt she still was... When you look up at her again, she begins to shrivel away.

"Okay," You speak

She eases a little bit...

"Okay," You repeat, trying to find the right words

You take a few steps towards her, beginning to outstretch your hand, but stop.

"It's late," You fake a yawn, raising your outstretched arm, "Get some rest, and we'll talk in the morning... If you want to..."

She nods... You walk into the bathroom, cleaning off the grime from the day. But by the time you come back out, her back was turned to you; giving you the impression she was already asleep.

+*+

As you turn onto your back, you stare at the ceiling... Unable to fall asleep with her words flooding your brain.

"Goddamnit Bridget I'm falling for you all over again!" She raises her voice

"I'm scared... I'm scared that if I fall this time... It'll end like last time... You'd... You'd be gone..." She says

You climb out of her bed and slowly make your way over to her.

This conversation couldn't wait... For yourself.

You gently reach out to her and brush seam of her hair away from her face.

"Bridget?" Y/n's voice groans

Y/n being half awake?

Hot.

"It's me," You whisper

She sits up, "Are you real?"

You heard the little whimper in her voice. Her chest hiccups as your hand presses itself onto her chest.

"I'm real, Y/n," You say, smiling

You weren't sure if she was still half asleep but she pulls you into her lap.

"Please don't go away again," She nearly cries, "Please don't leave me..."

"Hey, shhhh, shhhhh," You coo, holding her face in your hands, "I'm here.... I won't go anywhere.... I... I don't want to go anywhere without you."

You lean forward. As you pull away to look down at her, tears stream down her eyes. You lean forward again and she meets you halfway. You feel the desperation in her touch as she holds you firmly, and the way her kisses became desperate. You've missed her touch... The way she was gentle with you when the two of you cuddled, the way she took care of you when you needed it.

You've missed each other...

You were going to show her how much you've missed her.

Chapter 9

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - Chapter 3

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, brief mention date rape, domestic violence, not reader oh make me over, i'm all i wanna be, a walking study, in demonology - celebrity skin, hole

3. for the life of the flesh is in the blood 

It is both a relief and a disappointment, that you find your first experience of feeding on John Constantine was quite singular. No one since has inspired the same brand of heady lust when you break a vein. You think about him often, but you've done your best to give the demon hunter a wide berth. You're sure the last thing he wants is some needy little leech following him around, begging for his attention. 

You're sure he only saved you out of pity, anyway. 

It still hurts, so you try not to think about it anymore.

You have taken to hunting your meals amongst the evil doers of the city—of which there is no shortage, in the City of Angels. Your favorite method has become playing the party-going damsel in a bar not watching her drink. When the inevitable asshole drops a dose of something in it, a thing you have found does not affect you at all, you play drowsy and accompany him to the inevitable alley or sometimes even his car, where you pounce.

You can't say you feel too terrible about removing such trash from the population. You're not sure how God feels about your methods, but then you're not sure it matters any way. It helps pay your rent too. Holding down a job as a vampire kind of went out the window, so you help yourself to whatever cash you find in your criminals' wallets with little remorse. 

The fact of the matter is, as time goes on...you don't exactly hate being a vampire. It took some adjustment, sure, but you have power you'd only dreamed of as a human woman. You can go anywhere you want now without fear. You are fast. You are strong. You haven't figured out flying yet, but even that seems like it might be possible down the line. 

Maybe you could ask a fellow vampire about what is and isn't possible, but you have yet to actually meet one. 

You've sensed them around the streets of LA—but in the end you always chicken out and flee the scene. The vampires who made you were not exactly shining examples. You're not in a hurry to fall in with their ilk. You'd observed there was a definite pecking order in the coven that took you, and you're not exactly eager to become some asshole's toady again, a little cog in some evil plot or another. You’d played that game in corporate America in your old life, and you're not going back to it. 

One evening when you are heading out for the night you run into John in the hallway again. 

You are astounded when he is first to greet you. "Y/n."

"Hi, John." You can't help but feel the contrast to the way you used to play this game. You feel the loss of innocence, of your humanity, so keenly when you see him. You'd be a liar if you said the sight of his stupid, handsome face didn't still move you. The loss of what might have been...hurts, like a half-healed wound with a finger in it. You haven't been avoiding him, per se...but seeing him still ties you up in knots in a way you don't necessarily like. 

"You look...nice." You glance down at your dark low-cut dress and leather jacket. Bar bait chic. It's quite a shift, from the sweet floral sundresses and bright colors you once favored. 

"I was just popping out for a bite to eat."

"Yeah?" He is looking at you with an intensity that makes you squirm a little inside. A look that a vampire does not like, on the receiving end from a demon hunter. "How's that...going for you?" 

"Fine."

He looks around the hallway for potential eavesdroppers. You already know it's vacant. Your hearing was excellent on the night you were Born to Darkness, and it's only improved from there. 

"Fine?"

You cross your arms with a look of what the fuck else do you expect me to say out here?

Constantine makes an annoyed sound that's almost a growl. 

You shouldn't find it as endearing as you still do. 

“Come talk to me a minute?” he invites, nodding towards his apartment. 

Remembering all the crosses and weapons he has stashed in there, you're not too keen to go, in case he's decided letting you live your undead life was an oversight. 

You wrinkle your nose like you’ve smelled something bad. "You can come talk to me in here," you counter, nodding towards your own space. 

He smirks at you, as though he knows very well the cause for your caution. “Sure,” he agrees, cocky as ever. John Constantine isn’t afraid to walk unarmed into the lair of a baby vamp like you.

You unlock your door again, ushering him in with a wave. As he steps inside you are struck again by how big he is in your tiny apartment. A wave of nostalgia hits you, for a night when you'd still been human, and he'd made you feel like you were the most desirable woman in the world.

Suddenly, your throat is tight.

Wow. Who knew you could still feel these things as a creature of the night? You’ve been so focused on your day to day, or night to night, as it were. You never really allowed yourself to process everything that had happened. You were too busy figuring out how the fuck to survive.

"Do you...want something to drink?" you ask, looking in your pantry. “Or perhaps can I interest you in some whole kernel corn?” Your perishable options have long gone by the wayside, but you still have alcohol, canned goods, and dry cereal. All together, not the most appetizing combination.

A snort of laughter escapes him at your attempt at humor, and he seats himself in one of your surviving kitchen chairs like he owns the place. "Sure. To the drink. Hold the vegetables."

You produce a bottle of Scotch that you may have bought with him in mind after your little tryst, and pour him a couple fingers.

"What about you?" he asks with a glitter of something in those obsidian dark eyes. Even with all your vampire senses, this man is still hard to read as a brick wall.  

You cant your head to look at him, curious what he’s about. That is when you realize... you smell desire. You hear the spike of his heartbeat, see the dilation of his pupils almost lost in the black of his irises. 

His only outward tell is the corner of his mouth curled up, but blood never lies.

You yourself would be a liar if you said you hadn't thought about the way he'd tasted that first night with a sharp longing. 

The sound of his pulse hammering in your ears makes you bold enough to ask, "Why, are you offering, John?"

He lifts one eyebrow nonchalantly, though the sound of his racing heart is sweet sweet music to your ears. 

"Maybe."

Cautious as a cat, you dare approach, a finger sliding along the surface of the table as you regard him curiously. Cool as ever, he leans back in his chair, man-spreading as he looks up at you. You stand between his legs, looking down at him with a new confidence, armed with the knowledge of his blood rushing double-time through his veins. 

He certainly hadn’t sought you out before this. Not once in the past few months has he even tried to check on you. At least, as far as you know.

He tilts his head up, returning your gaze. It’s impressive, really, how little he manages to show on the outside, while you can sense the rising roil of something brewing within him. Lust, you tell yourself. Anything more…would be wishful thinking, on your part.

You really should know better by now, but you still can’t help but carry a torch for this man, stupid little vampire that you are.

“A little warning: I’ve heard some hot shot High Table vampire hunter is in town from New York. You should be careful where you go to hunt.”

Your own heart thumps in your chest. Just the once. You don’t have a regular heartbeat anymore, unless you’ve just fed on someone.

“You worried about me, John?”

“As far as I've heard, you're keeping your nose clean, but I thought you should know."

So he has been keeping track of you. 

"I’m not exactly feasting on the blood of newborn babes."

He winces a little at that, as though you have invoked some long-buried memory. You suppose you cannot fathom the horrors this man has seen in his time battling the Darkness.

"Who are you feasting on?"

"Mostly assholes who deserve a lot worse than what I give them."

It's his turn to tilt his head as he looks up at you, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s. "What does that mean?"

"Do you really want to know?" you ask, propping a hand on your hip. What you really want to do is insinuate yourself into this man’s lap, but some sense of self-preservation holds you back.

"It's why I asked."

"Ok.” You start to tick your recent exploits off on your fingers. “I saved a girl from getting mugged and maybe worse the other day while she was walking to her car at night. Before that, I snacked on a date raper who tried to drug my drink. Before that, I broke up a domestic dispute and made the piece of shit husband disappear. Before that—"

Both of John’s dark eyebrows shoot up.

"Ok, Miss Vigilante Vamp. I get the picture." There's a gleam in his eye, and you almost think he might be proud of you? Or at least, amused. You should not care, of course, but his approval definitely tickles some long-buried little pleasure center in your brain. You always were a teacher’s pet type, for better or for worse. "You should be careful though. You could get hurt."

"By who?” you counter, knowing you sound cocky as hell. “This vampire hunter?” 

“I think you missed the part where I said he’s  High Table?”

“What does that mean?”

He gives you a look like you should know that, but you don’t know how or why you would.

“It means you don’t want to mess with him. I heard he’s here for the Master, but you don’t want to attract his attention.”

“The Master?” You are so confused.

Seemingly exasperated, he lifts his eyebrow at you. It kind of starts to piss you off. “I don’t know any other vampires, John.” And he certainly made no efforts before now to fill you in. 

“Look, just be careful, ok? Just because you’re a vampire now doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”

It’s almost touching, that he’s worried about you. It would be, at least, if it didn’t sound so fucking much like mansplaining.

“A girl’s gotta eat, John.”

“Well…you coulda asked.”

You narrow your eyes down at him, knowing they flash a molten orange with your annoyance. The thing he said when you’d first woken as a vampire echoes in your mind, the way it has every night since. I guess they thought you meant something to me.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“I told you I’d help you. You kinda disappeared on me after that.”  

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Thinking some distance might be a good thing after all, you turn to go, just to have his long fingers wrap around your wrist. “Wait—” 

You try to pull away, and he doesn’t let go, so you jerk him out of the chair like he’s a ragdoll. You find yourself in a pile on the floor with John Constantine’s solid weight half on top of you—not a horrible arrangement, truth be told, but the context is less than ideal.

“Jesus. Easy there, tiger.”

The fact that this man has the gall to needle you, after everything that has happened, suddenly fills you with white-hot heat, like gasoline on a fire. You’ve been bottling it up for months, just shoving it down so you can do what you have to do, but now everything bubbles to the surface with a vengeance. Suddenly, you are sitting on him, a clawed finger pointing into his chest. “You asshole. I got turned into this thing that I am because of you, because I was stupid enough to care about you, but I was supposed to be the one knocking on your door for a handout? I bet you would have just loved it, if I came crawling back to you for another taste.”

It’s just so fucking unfair.

That you can still feel so much for this man, and maybe he desires you back, but outside of that there’s just nothing. You’re sure of it. It shouldn’t matter to you anymore but it does and it hurts. Jesus fucking Christ it hurts.

You feel too much.

You’ve always felt too much, as a human, and now as a monster, apparently, and it sucks. You feel the sting of tears filling your eyes, and you know they look like blood to him and it’s just so gross you could scream.

“Tell me how to do it,” you hiss through the aching lump in your throat. “How do I feel nothing like you, because I’m so tired of this.”

Constantine’s frown is utterly thunderous below you. You guess it’s a real buzz kill, when people—monsters—emote all over you. He says nothing, just glares back up at you, breathing heavily through his nose.

Only later will it occur to you what a miracle it was, that he didn’t go for his cross, or a holy gun, or gold knuckles, with a spitting mad vampire perched on top of him. He really does have nerves of steel.

Only when you notice a small dot of blood blooming on his white shirt beneath your razor-sharp fingernail you let up, clenching your clawed fists at your sides.  

“Sorry,” you half-snarl, closing your eyes against everything. But now the scent of blood is in the air. His blood, and it is just as intoxicating as you remember from before, and a powerful, prickling heat rises within you, spreading out to him too. Every hair on his body lifts, and you wonder if he reacts to you this way because of his psychic abilities, or if…it’s just the chemistry between you. Some of the tension in his frame softens—other parts of him decidedly do not.

“My life is dangerous, y/n. What happened to you is exactly the reason I don’t have many friends.”

Or lovers, hangs unsaid in the air.

“Yeah. Well…too late for me, I guess. What’s the worst that can happen now?”

“You never want to challenge God like that. Believe me.”

“Why do you sound so certain it’s God who makes bad things happen?”

He snorts derisively. “Because as far as I can tell, he’s an even bigger asshole than I am.”

You look away, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “I’m sorry I called you that.”

Surprisingly he turns your gaze back to him with a finger on your chin. “It’s ok. The shoe fits.”

You get the sense that this is his way of apologizing…maybe, and the last of your anger leaks from your body. You nod, and close your eyes, and one of those bloody tears escapes to make its way down the curve of your cheek. No one is more surprised than you, when he reaches up to wipe it away.

“For what it’s worth…you’re not bad, for a vampire.” Coming from him, that’s quite the declaration. Again, you’re not proud of what it does to you, to receive praise from this man who usually keeps so aloof. 

You dare to open your eyes, your vision sharpening upon him, your vampire senses keen to detect a lie. You can tell he’s a little excited beneath his cool façade, but it doesn’t feel like he’s lying to you. That has a certain smell. A pheromone maybe, or a stink of fear of getting caught.

“Yeah?”

He sits up, so that you are cradled on his lap, nearly nose to nose, and you can’t help but be painfully aware, groin to groin. He’s so tall, and broad, and you still want to climb him like a tree. Another wave of that titillating energy rises in you, a mix of hunger and desire. You know he feels it too. You can tell by the way his eyelids half-close, his grip tightening momentarily on your thighs.

It’s not a horrible development, truth be told.  

“Yeah.”

“Even though I scare you?”

“Let’s go with…yes and no, on that,” he answers with a quirk of the side of his mouth.

“Hmm. You know, it’s hard to lie to a vampire?”

“Can’t say I usually spend much time conversing.” He cups your cheek, his fingers sliding into your hair—and you’re not sure you really want to converse anymore either. “I was giving you space—guess I should have kicked down your door.”

“You could have just…knocked,” you tell him with narrowed eyes, smiling in spite of yourself. You feel your teeth pressing into your lips—and you shut your mouth again.

“I know they’re there,” he teases you, surprisingly gently, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. “You don’t have to hide them.”

You close your eyes again, sighing. “I just…feel like such a monster.” 

Again his long fingers slide through your hair, like he’s petting you. It does things to you, to be stroked like a favored pet by this man. 

“You’re not a monster.” You clench your fists, so moved to hear him say it. And as you do, you can feel your claws biting into your palms. You lift your hands so he can see them. 

“No?”

He examines them, seemingly nonplussed. You guess he’s seen bigger and sharper. “No,” he asserts again. 

Your eyes flick down to the little bloodstain upon his nice white shirt. “I made you bleed.” 

“I probably deserved it,” he excuses with that smirk that pulls at your undead heartstrings. “Keep going like you are, you might get to Heaven before I do.”

“John…” you sigh, a wave of emotion sweeping through you that you can’t even name. “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

“Me? Nice?” Again, that barely discernible purse of lips, the suppression of a smile that would give him away. 

You find yourself staring at his mouth, before forcing your eyes up to meet his once again. You don’t do it on purpose, but the power of your hunger fills you like a cup, spilling over into him where your bodies touch. This time he gives in to that tingling wave of treacherous pleasure, closing his eyes and letting it wash over him without a fight. Longing throbs in your loins, and hunger in your belly. They really feel one and the same, in this man’s arms.

“You’re…getting good at that,” he tells you, his voice low and gravely with desire.

“It just…happens, with you,” you’re almost reluctant to admit.

He smirks, the way you just knew he would, the smug bastard. “Just with me, huh?”

You roll your eyes to the ceiling. This man.

His low chuckle should not inspire such a thrill inside you. His strong arm looped around your waist, pulling you harder against him, does not help either.

Your claws have retracted again, and you run your hand up the flat of his chest, fingering the starched collar of his white shirt. You are gratified to receive a shuddering sigh as your touch moves higher, caressing the jumping pulse in his neck longingly.

“Bar’s open,” he offers.

It’s your turn to sigh, and you go about undoing his tie, carefully loosening the knot, resisting the urge to tear it off of him. You’ve learned a little bit more about how to control your hunger now, but it’s all still so new. You wonder if you can use it to make this, whatever this is, last longer than the frenzied chaotic rush it was last time.

“Did you miss me, John?”

He doesn’t answer you, just makes a sound low in his throat and leans in to kiss you instead, and with his soft mouth on yours you are content to let it go for now.

Maybe if you read between the lines, it’s answer enough anyway.

It’s a little funny, that the two of you never really make it up off the floor. Wrapped up in the wonderful, heady power that is your hunger, amplified by mutual desire, you are content to shed clothing and trade appreciative caresses there on the rug. You had not forgotten how beautiful this man is, the feeling of his warm muscled flesh beneath your questing hands, and yet still it somehow surprises you.

He makes a face as he pushes your jacket from your shoulders, tossing it unnecessarily far across the room. “You don’t like it?” you tease breathily.

“It doesn’t suit you,” he admits, and goes for your dress next, pulling it up over your head. He stares down at the skin he bared, your lacy push-up bra. He’s kinder to the dress, but maybe just because he’s distracted, ducking to kiss the soft mounds of your breasts.

The glitter in his dark eyes as you extricate his belt from between your pressed bodies should be illegal, it’s so intoxicating. With a hand on his bare chest you press him down to lay back on the floor. He does not fight you, looking up at you with that signature smirk that makes your blood boil. Rolling your hips against his straining erection between you wipes some of the smug off his expression, replacing it with a raw need.

With careful fingers you unbutton his pants and extricate him into the palm of your hand, his velvety length almost searing hot against your cool grip. Your undead body hungers for the warmth of his life, absorbing it anywhere you touch. His nerve falters a little, as he watches your fanged mouth descend towards his swollen manhood, his eyes widening just a bit. It’s your turn to smirk up at him.

“I haven’t tried this yet, John. I’d be very still, if I were you.”

He doesn’t tell you to stop, and the sound he makes as you descend on his hard cock with your silken tongue isn’t pain. In fact, it’s extremely gratifying. You are careful, and as you work him up and down with your mouth he trembles with the effort not to move beneath you. When his fingers tangle in your hair you moan against him, winning a twitch of his hips that would have made you smile, had your mouth not been so very full. You withdraw with a pop that makes him growl with pleasure beneath you. “Fuck, y/n...”

He tries to sit up to reach for you, but you pin him down again with one hand, tilting your head with a playful look down on him. The heated frustration in his narrowed eyes is rather priceless. Maybe you’ll pay for this later, but the predator’s instinct in you is enjoying this immensely.

Too impatient to take them off, you pull your panties to the side to sink onto his beautiful cock, his thick head pushing past your entrance rocking your head back with ecstasy. “John…” you sigh, moving your hips up and down, until he’s seated fully inside you, bottoming out against your cervix. It doesn’t hurt, like it once did. You are learning all kinds of things about your new vampire body.

“I would have returned the favor,” he rasps, his head rocking back hard into the floor as you carefully squeeze him inside you, conscientious of your new strength. It wins you a gratifying moan, his eyes drifting closed.

“Next time,” you answer cheekily. If he can’t admit that he missed you—then you’ll be damned if you say it first, even if it is the truth.  

You look down, fascinated by the sight of his big hands on your thighs, his strong fingers pressing into your flesh. The whip-cord muscles of his forearms draws your eyes, to the curve of his bicep and the sweep of his collarbone—your attention fixes on the jumping vein in his neck like a laser. 

You lean down to lick his pulse and he tilts his head, baring his neck for you. You know that part of it is him riding the power that crackles between you, but another part–it feels like a gesture of trust, and somehow that warms your undead heart. The razor-sharp tips of your fangs brush his pulse, winning you a sigh. “Do it,” he moans, surging inside you, lifting you with his hips. It’s all too much to resist, and with trembling caution you slide your fingers into his hair, and press your teeth into his pale skin.

The resulting rush of blood filing your mouth is intoxicating–by the sounds he makes, not just for you. The rush of pleasure across your tongue and in your loins is like nothing you’ve ever felt before, an exhilarating bliss that spreads warmth through every nerve across your skin.  

You’ve always thought of lovemaking as some kind of small miracle–a gift the laughing gods bestowed upon you poor mortals to make all the drudgery of life somehow bearable. A scientist might argue it is a trick of hormones and synapses played by nature, to encourage the endless march of procreation. You wonder what Constantine thinks about it, this man who so clearly believes in The Almighty God, but also seems to find the deity an insufferable asshat. 

A less than charitable philosopher might argue this beguiling euphoria is just the lure a vampire could use to secure a good meal–but like this, with this man–you cannot help but think it’s more. Whatever ancient magic that animates you, and maybe his own powers mingled too, it grants you this boon in what could be a life of infinite nights of lonely darkness, this undeniable connection with a special human whose lifeblood nourishes you. 

You are not even sure what to call the pinnacle of this pure shining ecstasy you share–orgasm seems too paltry a word. Pleasure, pale by comparison. John insists you are no creature of God, but you cannot help but reason that what you share together is nothing less than divine rapture.

The challenge is when to stop. 

For as long as you pull draught after draught of his delectable hot blood into your mouth, this bliss goes on and on. 

He starts to fade beneath you, his heart slowing. You could drain him dry like this, and maybe not care until the moment you realized he was dead in your arms. This is the thing that throws you back from your latchpoint upon his neck, woozy from the delight of it all, yet scared that you may have hurt him. 

He too seems drunk beneath you, looking up at you through hooded dark eyes. “Why’d you stop?” he asks dreamily. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen this man. You touch his cheek; you are not sure if the coolness of his skin is due to blood loss, or the fact that you feel almost feverish at the moment, riding the high of the blood magic you invoked with him. 

If you hurt him you are walking out into the sunlight, you promise yourself with panic. 

“I’m afraid I took too much,” you admit, wide-eyed. 

Of course, he scoffs at the very idea. “I’m fine. C’mere.” He pulls you down on top of him, to snuggle, you presume. The wonders of this evening do not cease. It is lovely, to curl up in his arms, your thighs slick with the excess of his seed. But as he dozes, you are wide awake, the world come even more alive around you. A potent meal, the magician makes. You feel as though you can sense the whole city in your head. The comings and goings of all the people, and all the creatures, and the planes and trains and cars. 

What a marvel, is this modern age. 

You sift through them all as an amusement, catching snatches of thoughts and bits of conversations, eavesdropping on their lives. 

You realize that you have never been able to read John Constantine’s thoughts. You wonder if it’s because of his psychic abilities–or just a result of his abnormally hard head. 

As you make this little psychic tour around the inhabitants of L.A.--something senses you back. You feel it push against your mind, holding you at arm’s length. Something old, and seething. For a flash you see it–him. Definitely a him, tall and forbiddingly handsome, bearded and raven haired. His eyes flash molten orange–right before he strikes you. It is only a psychic blow but you feel it like a fist between the eyes. It makes your physical body jolt in John’s arms. This stirs him from his bliss-induced coma; the demon-hunting magician blinks and looks up at you, taking in your wild-eyed look, your fangs bared to some invisible threat. 

“You ok, baby vamp?” he grumbles, not too happy to be disturbed from his deep rest.

“Fine,” you answer, unsure if it’s true. “I think I need to get you something to eat.”

“Not hungry,” he grouses, closing his eyes again. “Tired.” 

“Would you like to lay down in the actual bed?” you ask, thinking he will regret this hard pallet tomorrow. 

“No.” Now you can tell he’s just being stubborn. You would like to stay and cuddle with him, but you really are afraid he needs to eat and drink. Fluids and iron rich foods, is what you googled for after-care of donating blood, a while ago.

Funny, until now, you hadn’t had occasion to use the knowledge. 

You dress and pop out to the 24 hour market, obtaining red meat and dark leafy vegetables. When you return John has reclaimed his boxers and stretched his long body out on the couch, his big feet hanging off the end. It’s ridiculously endearing, to see him so relaxed in your space like this. 

When you are nearly done preparing his stir fry dinner, he finally rises to a sitting position, scrubbing at his face with his hands. 

It’s silly, how much it pleases you, when he wraps his arms around you from behind at the stove, his chin resting on your head.  “A vampire who cooks. This is one for the record books.”

“It’s not like I’ve forgotten how,” you fire back over your shoulder, amused. “It just…doesn’t really smell like food to me anymore.” The bloody bits of raw steak had seemed more appetizing than the ingredients in their current form.  

“Hmm. Smells good to me.” You thought he’d come round to food. “This does too though,” he teases, kissing your neck with a playfulness that leaves you dumbfounded. When he nibbles you can’t help but squirm, laughing out loud. 

“John!”

He must still be power drunk from earlier. He’d barely touched his glass of Scotch.

You feel his body shake with mirth behind you, more than hear it out loud. Then he stills against you, resting his chin on you again while you stir the meat and vegetables, the rice steaming on the back burner. You know it won’t last past tonight, but the scene is so damn near domestic it makes your heart ache. 

“What did I feel, earlier?” he asks. “Like, a gust of air in here. Did I dream it?”

You honestly aren’t sure how to answer that. It’s not that he wouldn’t believe you. You just…don’t have the language–and you don’t want to worry him. 

“I don’t know, I was half asleep,” you say, so smooth in your white lie, craning your neck back for a kiss. “Sit down. It’s your turn to eat.” 

As you bring John his plate of food your attention is drawn to the window, by what you’re not really sure. Nothing is there, you see nothing, you feel nothing present–and yet…you cannot shake the sensation that you are being watched. 

Almost as though to assure yourself, you reach out to brush an unruly dark lock of John’s hair behind his ear. He looks up at you with a lazy, almost boyish smile. It squeezes your heart. “Thanks.” You’re pretty sure he means for the food, but maybe…the rest too. 

You smile, and you know it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He seems to sense something is up, but maybe he doesn’t want to wreck the moment yet either. He catches your hand, kissing the back of it, before picking up his fork and tucking in. 

Again, you look to the window, and the mean city beyond it, and wonder how many malevolent things out there could mean the two of you ill.  You don’t think you have too many enemies of your own yet–but in John’s case? 

The number could be infinite.

[euniexenoblade]

I've been cracking my egg and reforming it back again for past 8 years, going as far as booking appointments to get diagnosis and spending loads of cash onto it just to get insecure about myself again and stop comming, now that I finally started hrt I feel like I wasted most of my live, I am happy now but I lost so much time in a process. I felt like policed and seked validation thought magic diagnosis paper, all while attending catholic schools that were telling me that it is inherently unnatural fetish and that I am not valid, while I got abused by teachers and students. Parents not helping either and their reaction to me telling them was to ridicule me and then not to talk of this ever again

How do I cope with loss of my youth years? I am still young but I am well beyond teenager and I feel cheated out of my childhood

I think the best method is to stop actually viewing your childhood as gone and remember your life is a continuous flow and unlike as a kid, you can literally do just about anything you want. Maybe this comes off as harsh, like I totally understand feeling a loss, but childhood and teenage years especially suck. Society is mean to kids, especially trans kids.

Here's my thing: what about childhood did you want to do? What do you feel is gone? Do it. Get it. No, you can't get the years back, but you can make sure they don't claim anymore of your time through regret.

Go have fun. Go play.

[sunshine-theseus]

warning: heartbreak high season2 spoilers

i thought while i'm making my comeback i'll talk about a bunch of different shit like chelsea games and the way sharn freier is literally a star girl and now she's not my team's secret anymore.

BUT the 2nd season of Heartbreak High (if you are or aren't australian, please watch it. it's so good. it's on netflix) came out yesterday and i've already finished it and i have so many thoughts.

first off how the fuck did rowan manage to bag malakai and amery of all people. i'm sorry but this motherfucker rocks up in term 2, a new kid, dressed like dean winchester with the hair of sam winchester and 2 of the hottest people at Hartley, who were a couple mind you, fall in love with him. i have to congratulate the writers on actually understanding what a love triangle is though; instead of making it a love... line? also i took a complete stab in the dark about him hallucinating his brother not long into watching it and i was right :D

BI MALAKAI YOU WILL CATCH ME SOBBING IN THE CORNER I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

this may be hot take, but i can't stand the way darren can't take accountability for their actions. they absolutely came for quinni's throat when she expressed her feelings and told her that the world can't revolve around her and accommodate all her needs... the world can't always accommodate quinni... a queer, autistic woman... and then they don't even actually apologise for what they said to her? and then they seek out an old hook up to have sex when cash comes back from the last "mission" with chook. should cash have done it without telling them? no. was it the right thing to do? no. but going to hook up with someone WHEN YOU'RE STILL IN A RELATIONSHIP?? and then calling it drama?? fucking wild idk

i don't know how i feel about the spider redemption arc they tried to do, but fucking hell did voss piss me the fuck off. dude shut the fuck up, if you want to be taken seriously maybe don't wear a lycra body suit to work. i can't be mad about spider trying to be a better person but i don't like that they made him take a fucking huge jump back when missy said it wasn't going to work, or that the reason he was like that was because he had a hyper-feminist mum. she was horrendous trying to use missy to try and "fix him" and missy ate calling that artwork out for being fake. speaking of, missy is so strong minded, why the fuck did they make her fold for sasha's "people like him can't change" spiel, didn't even think, instantly agreed. sasha was so annoying

i kind of wish harper didn't drop the case, but i think it was something that took a lot of courage. the way woodsy taught her to drive and was so excited when she passed the test - tears were shed. i like harper and ant together i think? but i kind of wish they let it play out longer (this is me assuming there will be a third season)

uhh i can't think of much else, feel free to add.