#i should actually watch through it fully but i'm lazy

[journeytojaburo]

Watching random UC engage footage and discovering its rendition of emma's encounter with amuro where her past design and her girlfriend got full color designs

[debussy42]

"straight or curly?"

Guys, I'm not gonna lie. This whole nonsense started with me just debating whether or not I should straighten or curl my hair today. Wow, I miss my man Levi. Maybe it's with Valentine's day coming up, but I needed some emotionally charged, dancing, jealousy, barely restrained Levi in my life. Hope y'all enjoy ◡̈

wc: 8k WHEWWWWWWW

"Sasha. Mikasa. Should I straighten my hair today, or curl it? It's the weekend, and I want to try something new."

Mikasa, already dressed and pulling on her boots, barely glances up before saying, “Straight.”

Sasha, who’s still lounging on her bed with no urgency whatsoever, tilts her head in thought. “Curl it. It looks cuter that way.”

You hum, turning back to the mirror, lightly running your fingers through your hair. “Hmm. Mikasa, why straight?”

She shrugs. “It’s easier.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but it’s the weekend. Don’t you want to, I don’t know, do something fun with it?”

You smirk at their contrast and tap your fingers against the wooden vanity. “Jean’s going to say straight. Connie’s going to say whatever makes me look stupid.”

Mikasa ties her scarf, uninterested. “Jean will say whatever makes you look ‘mature.’”

Sasha snorts. “He’s been watching too many noblewomen walk through town.”

You shake your head, grinning at their banter, then turn back to the mirror. “Alright, decision made.”

Mikasa raises a brow. “Which one?”

You give a dramatic pause before flashing them a mischievous grin. “I’ll ask Levi.”

Sasha chokes on air. “Wha—are you insane?”

Mikasa actually looks up at that, blinking. “You’re going to ask the Captain?”

You shrug innocently, gathering your comb. “He’s got an eye for detail. Might as well make use of it.”

Sasha buries her face into her pillow, groaning. “Oh my god, you love testing death, don’t you?”

Mikasa, while less dramatic, still watches you carefully. “You’re comfortable with him, sure. But that’s still Levi. You really think he’s going to care about how you do your hair?”

You smirk. “I don’t know. But I do know that if I look ridiculous, he won’t hesitate to tell me.”

Sasha peeks out from her pillow, stifling laughter. “That’s... actually true.”

Mikasa just shakes her head. “I’m not stopping you. But don’t be surprised if he tells you you’re wasting his time.”

You flash them both a grin before heading for the door. “I’ll be back with verdict.”

—

The morning sun is just beginning to filter through the halls as you make your way toward the common area, boots clicking softly against the wooden floors. Most of the squad is still waking up, scattered across various spaces, engaged in quiet conversations or lazy weekend tasks.

And then, you spot Levi.

He’s near the windows, arms crossed, watching the drizzle outside with his usual unreadable expression. The early light casts a soft glow against his features, the sharp angles of his face somehow looking even sharper in the muted tones of the morning.

You take a breath, then casually stride up next to him, standing just close enough that he acknowledges your presence with a glance but doesn’t immediately turn away.

“Captain,” you say, tilting your head.

Levi’s gaze flickers to you, his brows drawing together slightly. “What?”

You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, smirking. “Should I straighten or curl my hair today?”

There’s a pause. A heavy, weighted pause.

Levi blinks once. Then twice. His expression is as blank as ever, but there’s a split second where you think—just maybe—you’ve stunned him into silence.

“…You woke up just to ask me that?”

You cross your arms, feigning seriousness. “This is an important decision, Captain. I need guidance. You have high standards, so I figured you’d have an opinion.”

Levi exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever asked me.”

You bite back a grin. “That’s not an answer, though.”

He finally looks at you fully, scanning you with the same critical gaze he uses when inspecting gear, paperwork, or a particularly irritating recruit.

“Straight,” he says flatly. “Less maintenance.”

You huff. “That’s what Mikasa said.”

Levi shrugs. “Then she’s right.”

You tap your chin, pretending to contemplate. “Sasha said curls.”

“Tch. Of course she did.”

You fight the urge to laugh. “You really don’t like being pulled into nonsense, do you?”

Levi scoffs lightly, already turning back to the window. “And yet, somehow, you keep pulling me in.”

You grin. “It’s a talent.”

Levi exhales again, shaking his head. “Straighten it. But if you’re going to keep bothering me about it, just shave it all off and save everyone the trouble.”

You do laugh at that, shaking your head as you step back. “Alright, alright. Decision made. Thanks, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t reply, but as you turn to leave, you swear you catch something—the barest flicker of amusement in his gaze.

And somehow, that feels like more of a victory than anything else.

You straighten your posture before giving a firm nod, shifting away from the relaxed banter you nearly let slip. “Thank you, Captain.” Your voice is lighter now, but the respect is there—solid, unwavering, the way it should be when addressing him.

Levi doesn’t reply, but the flicker of acknowledgment in his expression tells you that he noticed the shift. He doesn’t need praise, doesn’t care for pleasantries, but he does expect discipline.

And you do respect him—his authority, his position, the sheer presence he carries that makes the rest of the squad tread carefully around him. That weight isn’t something you take lightly.

With your decision made, you turn on your heel and make your way back toward the barracks, catching the eyes of a few cadets as you pass. Some of them look at you like you’ve just done something insane, while others avoid making eye contact entirely, as if speaking to Levi so casually might have put you on a death sentence.

When you step back into the barracks, Sasha and Mikasa are still exactly where you left them, Sasha now halfway through a snack she definitely didn’t have before.

Mikasa eyes you first. “Straight?”

You smirk. “Straight.”

Sasha lets out a dramatic sigh. “Of course he’d say that.”

You shrug as you make your way to the small mirror on the vanity, pulling out your comb. “Well, you did say he has high standards. Might as well follow through.”

Mikasa finishes tying the last knot on her gear before grabbing her scarf. “I don’t understand why you’d ask him in the first place.”

You glance at her through the mirror, lips twitching. “Because he’d tell me the truth, not just what I want to hear.”

Sasha hums thoughtfully. “That is true… Still, brave of you to just walk up to him like that.”

You roll your eyes, running the comb through your hair. “He’s my Captain, not some untouchable ghost. You all act like he’s going to snap my neck for asking a question.”

Sasha gives you an incredulous look. “He would if you tested him enough.”

Mikasa, though less dramatic, simply says, “You’re more comfortable with him than the rest of us are.”

You pause at that, the weight of her words settling over you.

It’s true.

The others hold Levi at a distance—not just because of his rank, but because of who he is. Humanity’s Strongest. A leader, an authority, a presence that demands respect with the sheer force of his being. You’ve seen how they sit up straighter, how they quiet down when he enters a room, how the air around him shifts the atmosphere entirely.

And yet, with you, the distance is different. You still respect him, still heed his orders, but you don’t shrink away under his stare. You step forward, meet his gaze, hold your ground—not recklessly, not without care, but with something else. Something more solid.

You shake off the thought, focusing back on your reflection as you finish smoothing down the last strand of hair.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “it’s not my fault you all look like you’ve seen a ghost whenever he’s in the room.”

Mikasa doesn’t argue, simply picking up her gear and heading toward the door. “I’ll see you outside.”

Sasha gives you one last lingering look, then grins. “If you ever do cross a line, just give me your rations before you get executed.”

You snort. “Noted.”

As Sasha follows after Mikasa, you take one last glance at yourself before heading toward the door as well, rolling your shoulders back as you mentally prepare for the day ahead.

Even if you are more comfortable with the Captain, that doesn’t mean you’ll ever forget who he is.

Levi Ackerman.

Your Captain. Your superior.

The strongest soldier alive.

And somehow, someone you can’t seem to stop seeking out.

—

The morning air is crisp as you step outside, the lingering chill of the earlier rain still clinging to the air. The ground is damp beneath your boots, the scent of wet earth and wood mixing with the sharp freshness of the wind rolling over the fields beyond the walls. The sun is beginning to break through the thinning clouds, casting golden streaks across the headquarters, its light catching on the dew that clings to the edges of the grass.

You inhale deeply, letting the coolness of it wake you up fully. The barracks are already alive with movement—cadets milling about, some heading toward training fields, others finishing up morning duties. The sound of voices, of boots against gravel, of birds stirring in the trees beyond, all mix together into the low, steady hum of a world still in motion.

Sasha and Mikasa are waiting for you a few feet away, Mikasa adjusting the straps of her gear with practiced efficiency, Sasha idly bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’s trying to generate enough energy to get through the day. She notices you first, squinting at you with exaggerated focus before nodding in approval.

“Alright, I’ll admit it. The Captain was right. The straight hair suits you.”

You snort, walking up to them. “You sound so betrayed.”

“I am betrayed,” she huffs dramatically. “But only because I wanted to be right.”

Mikasa shakes her head. “It was a practical answer. Levi only ever gives practical answers.”

You hum, knowing that’s true, but there’s something about the way he’d looked at you when he said it—how he’d assessed you with that sharp gaze of his, how he’d told you without hesitation, straighten it—that lingers in your thoughts more than it should.

But before you can dwell on it too much, the sound of boots approaching pulls your attention.

Erwin and Levi are walking through the yard, their presence commanding without effort. There’s something about the way the air shifts when they’re together—Erwin with his calm, calculated confidence, and Levi, sharp-edged and observant, moving with quiet precision.

Cadets straighten as they pass, conversations dulling slightly out of instinct, as if the weight of leadership alone is enough to pull people to attention. Even Jean, who normally has some sort of wisecrack ready, keeps his mouth firmly shut as they approach.

You, on the other hand, watch them with interest. Erwin is speaking in low tones, his expression unreadable, while Levi listens, his eyes narrowed slightly, his arms crossed as he walks in measured steps beside him.

But then, as if drawn by some unspoken pull, Levi’s gaze flickers—to you.

It’s brief, but it lingers just long enough to be intentional. A silent acknowledgment. A glance that feels heavier than just casual observation.

Your heart stirs in a way you don’t fully understand.

You don’t break eye contact right away. You hold it, just for a second longer than necessary, before nodding in quiet greeting, maintaining the formality expected of you.

Levi doesn’t nod back, but there’s a shift in his expression, something so subtle that only someone looking for it would notice. And then he looks away, back to Erwin, as if nothing had happened at all.

The moment passes, but it leaves something behind.

Mikasa notices. She doesn’t say anything, but she notices. The slight tilt of her head, the way her gaze flickers between you and Levi before she simply adjusts her gear again, tells you that much.

Sasha, however, being Sasha, definitely notices.

She leans in slightly, voice hushed but teasing. “That was a look.”

You keep your expression carefully neutral. “That was nothing.”

Sasha smirks. “Sure it was.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth spreading beneath your ribs is undeniable.

—

The morning drifts into training, the sky fully clearing as the sun rises higher, warming the damp earth below. The air is filled with the rhythmic whoosh of ODM gear, the sharp snap of cables latching onto wooden poles, the occasional grunt of effort as cadets push themselves through the drills.

You move through the routine with practiced ease, the familiar weight of your gear settling into your movements, your muscles burning in that satisfying way that comes with hard work. The wind rushes past your ears as you propel yourself forward, the world blurring for a moment before you land solidly on the next platform, inhaling sharply before launching off again.

Training days like this—ones where you can feel your strength, your skill, the sheer power of your body moving through the air—are the ones that remind you why you fight. Why you push.

You fall into rhythm with the others, weaving between them, keeping pace as you scan for your next maneuver. Jean and Eren are bickering between swings, Sasha is somehow eating mid-air, and Mikasa—unsurprisingly—is moving effortlessly, her form almost unnatural in its efficiency.

And then there’s Levi.

His presence alone changes the air.

He’s not just watching—he’s analyzing, assessing the squad with sharp, unwavering focus. His movements are controlled, effortless, the way he balances his weight even as he stands observing more a testament to his skill than anything else.

Every once in a while, he calls out adjustments. A sharp, no-nonsense command. A correction before anyone even has a chance to mess up.

And when his voice cuts through the field—low, firm, carrying more authority in a single word than most could in an entire speech—people listen.

You land solidly on a nearby platform, catching your breath for just a second before you hear it.

“Your form’s getting sloppy.”

You turn sharply.

Levi is watching you, arms crossed, gaze heavy.

You blink, surprised at first, before narrowing your eyes slightly. “It’s not sloppy.”

Levi raises a brow. “You hesitated before your last swing.”

You huff, rolling your shoulders back, feeling the weight of your gear settle evenly again. “Only because Jean was in my way.”

Jean, from several feet away, throws up his hands. “Why is my name always being thrown around?”

Levi doesn’t even acknowledge him. His attention stays on you.

“You’re letting yourself get distracted,” he says evenly, gaze unwavering. “Fix it.”

Your jaw tightens slightly.

You could argue, you want to argue, but you know better. Levi doesn’t say things for the sake of it. If he’s calling you out, it’s because he knows you can do better.

And that bothers you more than anything.

You nod once, sharp. “Understood, Captain.”

Levi watches you for a second longer before giving the smallest nod of approval. And then, just like that, his attention shifts—back to the squad, back to the broader picture, back to everything else that needs his attention.

You take a slow breath before launching yourself forward again, this time sharper, faster.

And though he doesn’t look at you again, you know he’s still watching.

And that’s enough to push you harder.

—

It was the end of the short lesson as you were released for the weekend.

“Guys,” You fall back into step with the girls, absentmindedly stroking a piece of your hair, “what if he only chose straight hair because it’s more convenient, not because it necessarily looked better on me? How can I know?”

Sasha groans dramatically, throwing her arms in the air. “Oh my god, you’re still thinking about this?”

Mikasa, walking beside you with her gear slung over her shoulder, gives you a sidelong glance. “Levi doesn’t say things just to say them. If he said straight, he meant it.”

You let out a thoughtful hum, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers. “But what if he only said it because it’s easier, not because it actually looked better?”

Sasha snorts. “Then I guess you’ll just have to change it up and see if he reacts.”

You blink at her. “What, like curl my hair next time and test his response?”

Mikasa shakes her head as if she can already see where this is going. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sasha grins mischievously. “I do.”

You narrow your eyes in thought, considering.

Mikasa sighs. “He’s our Captain, not some noble at a ballroom.”

“Exactly,” you quip, smirking. “Which means if he does notice, it’ll mean something.”

Mikasa doesn’t respond, just presses her lips into a thin line as if choosing to disengage entirely.

Sasha, however, nudges you with her elbow. “Alright, next mission: Operation Look Pretty and See if Captain Notices.”

You huff a laugh. “That is not what we’re calling it.”

Sasha grins. “Too late. It’s already official.”

Mikasa sighs again, rubbing her temple. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

You smirk but don’t push further, letting the subject drop—for now. But deep down, curiosity lingers.

Because, honestly?

You kind of do want to see if he notices.

—

“I mean, we are going out tonight to celebrate Jean’s birthday. I can accidentally slip by him with my curled hair to see his reaction…” You muse thoughtfully as you get change out of uniform and into more casual clothing, appreciating the cool breeze that hits your legs as you twirl in a skirt.

Mikasa groans, rubbing her temple like she’s already regretting being part of this conversation. “That’s ridiculous.”

Sasha, on the other hand, lights up. “No, that’s genius.”

You grin, brushing through your hair as you sit on the edge of your bed. “Is it though?”

“Yes,” Sasha says immediately. “Because listen, if Levi doesn’t care, he won’t react. But if he notices—even a little—that means he actually has an opinion on how you look.” She gestures dramatically. “And that would mean something.”

Mikasa exhales through her nose. “Or it just means he’s observant and has an opinion on everything.”

You hum thoughtfully, tying your hair into a loose ponytail for now. “That’s why it’s a test, Mikasa. For science.”

Mikasa stares at you blankly. “That is not how science works.”

Sasha claps her hands together. “Alright, so plan’s simple—tonight, you curl your hair, we go out for Jean’s birthday, and at some point, you just... happen to slip by the Captain.”

You nod, amused at how invested Sasha has become. “Exactly. Totally casual. No effort at all.”

Mikasa shakes her head, standing up and adjusting the straps on her uniform. “I’m not encouraging this. If you want to waste your time overanalyzing Levi’s non-reaction, that’s on you.”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “It’s called gathering data, Mikasa.”

You laugh, standing as well. “Exactly. And besides, it’s just for fun.”

Mikasa gives you a look that says you are all insufferable, but she doesn’t argue further. Instead, she merely slings her gear over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you both outside.”

As she leaves, Sasha leans in conspiratorially. “She’s totally curious too, she just won’t admit it.”

You smirk. “Oh, definitely.”

Sasha grins. “Alright, then. Let’s make Jean’s birthday party very interesting.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of training, chores, and preparation for the evening. By the time the sun dips low over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft orange and violet, the atmosphere around headquarters shifts into something lighter, more relaxed. It’s rare to have a night like this—where everyone can unwind, even just for a few hours, without the weight of duty pressing down on them.

You stand in front of the small mirror in the barracks, fingers deftly working through your hair as you curl it, piece by piece. The heat from the iron brushes against your fingertips, and you carefully shape each strand, letting the soft waves fall naturally over your shoulders.

Mikasa, seated on her bunk, pretends not to watch but definitely watches. She says nothing, but the occasional glance in the mirror’s reflection gives her away.

Sasha, on the other hand, is fully invested, sitting cross-legged on her bed and leaning forward. “Oh, yeah. This was definitely the right call.”

You smirk. “Told you.”

She grins. “You’re about to ruin a man’s whole perception of himself.”

You snort, shaking your head as you adjust the last curl. “You’re making it sound like a battle strategy.”

Sasha shrugs. “If you win, I say it counts.”

Mikasa finally sighs. “It’s ridiculous to think Levi would even care about something like this.”

You raise an eyebrow at her through the mirror. “Then there’s no harm in testing it, right?”

She presses her lips into a thin line, but doesn’t argue.

Satisfied, you stand up, smoothing your hands over your outfit—something casual but presentable, enough to blend in while still feeling put-together. The anticipation hums beneath your skin, but you shake it off, reminding yourself that this is not some grand event.

It’s just Jean’s birthday.

And Levi noticing or not noticing your hair is just... extra data.

—

The town is alive with warmth and movement, the faint glow of lanterns casting golden light against cobblestone streets. It’s a stark contrast to headquarters—where the air is always tense, where everything is lined with purpose and duty. Here, laughter spills from tavern doors, the clinking of glasses and distant music drifting through the air.

The squad gathers outside one of the better-kept taverns, waiting for stragglers before heading in. Jean stands at the center of it all, basking in the attention of his birthday, grinning as Connie pretends to give a heartfelt speech about his immense wisdom and contributions to humanity.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you adjust your jacket. “You’re laying it on thick, Connie.”

Connie throws up his hands. “It’s his birthday, let me lie to the guy.”

Jean scoffs, shoving him lightly. “At least someone is recognizing my greatness.”

Mikasa stands beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. Sasha is already trying to drag Reiner and Bertholdt into a bet over who can drink the most before passing out. The atmosphere is light, easy—exactly the kind of night you all need.

And then, just as you’re about to head inside, you feel it.

A shift.

The kind of awareness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough—Levi is approaching from the other end of the street. He’s walking with Erwin and Hange, both of whom are engaged in quiet conversation. But Levi—Levi is quiet as always, sharp eyes scanning the gathered squad as he moves.

Your heart does a stupid little lurch in your chest.

It’s not a big deal. You know that. But suddenly, every single curl feels too obvious, every strand of hair placed too deliberately.

Sasha subtly elbows you, voice low. “Showtime.”

You swallow, ignoring the ridiculousness of it all as you casually—very casually—turn your head and pretend to adjust your sleeve, making it look like you just so happen to be standing directly in Levi’s line of sight.

He slows slightly as he approaches, his eyes flickering over the group in his usual assessing way. You watch carefully, scanning for any sign of reaction—anything at all—but his face remains unreadable.

And then—his gaze lands on you.

It’s brief. Just a flicker. But something shifts.

His sharp eyes drag over your hair—not just in passing, but with intent. The tiniest hesitation, the kind that would be imperceptible to anyone not looking for it.

You hold your breath.

And then, just as quickly as it happened, it’s gone.

His expression smooths back into neutrality, his attention snapping forward again as he brushes past you with no comment, following Erwin and Hange into the tavern.

You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of Sasha’s expectant stare burning into the side of your face.

“Well?” she whispers, practically vibrating. “Did he notice?”

You press your lips together, considering.

“…He paused.”

Sasha grabs your arm. “OH, MY GOD.”

Mikasa groans, already walking ahead. “I refuse to be part of this.”

Jean, oblivious to everything, is already inside, basking in the attention of his own celebration.

You, however, linger for just a second longer, glancing at the door Levi disappeared into.

Maybe it was nothing.

Maybe it was everything.

But either way—he paused.

And that was more than enough.

—

The warmth of the tavern hits you the moment you step inside, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. The scent of old wood, spiced ale, and freshly baked bread lingers in the air, mixing with the low hum of chatter and the occasional burst of laughter from a drunken patron. The flickering candlelight casts everything in a dim, golden glow, the kind that makes the edges of reality feel softer, less urgent.

Jean, reveling in the rare occasion of being the center of attention, immediately heads toward an empty table near the back, where the rest of your squad is already gathering. Connie slings an arm around his shoulders, teasing him about how old he’s getting, while Sasha is already scanning the menu, clearly prioritizing food over conversation.

You settle into a seat across from Mikasa, who looks less interested in the celebration and more like she’s simply here to make sure Eren doesn’t do anything stupid. You smirk, leaning on your elbow. “I bet you five rations Eren ends up in a bar fight before the night is over.”

Mikasa doesn’t even blink. “I’m not betting against something that’s guaranteed to happen.”

You laugh, but before you can respond, the door swings open again, and your attention flickers instinctively to the entrance.

Levi steps inside, following Erwin and Hange as they make their way toward a separate table reserved for officers. Unlike the rest of you—who have already started loosening up, the casual energy of the tavern slipping into your movements—Levi remains the same. Composed. Straight-backed. Completely unfazed by the shift in atmosphere.

But you don’t miss the way his sharp gaze subtly sweeps over the room, assessing the layout, cataloging who’s here, where the exits are. It’s instinctual, second nature. Even in a space meant for relaxation, he’s still a soldier first.

He moves toward his seat, and for a second, just a brief second, his gaze flickers in your direction.

You feel the weight of it, even from across the room.

It’s unreadable, just like before. But you know he saw.

Your heart does that stupid little skip again, and you force yourself to look away, suppressing the smug smile threatening to form on your lips.

Sasha, however, does not suppress hers. She leans in close, voice hushed but practically vibrating with excitement. “He paused again.”

You shake your head. “It could have been anything.”

“It wasn’t anything.”

Mikasa sighs, already regretting sitting next to you two. “If you two spent half this energy on training, you’d both be Captain-level by now.”

Sasha grins. “Okay, but watching this unfold is so much more entertaining.”

You roll your eyes, picking up a glass of water and taking a slow sip, hoping to calm down the unnecessary giddiness that’s settled in your chest. It’s stupid—you know it’s stupid—but something about Levi’s pause feels like a tiny, unspoken victory.

Still, you shake it off. The night isn’t about that. It’s about Jean, about unwinding, about letting yourself be a person instead of just a soldier for once.

And so, you let the conversation around you pull you in. You tease Jean about his dramatic speeches, you steal a bite of Sasha’s food when she isn’t looking, you let yourself sink into the warmth of camaraderie, the normalcy of it all.

Time moves easily, drinks are passed around, and the sound of laughter grows louder as the night wears on.

Until—

“You’re drinking too fast.”

The voice is low, firm, unmistakable.

Your muscles stiffen slightly before you even see him, but when you glance up, sure enough, Levi is standing beside you, arms crossed, looking unimpressed.

Your glass, half-full with whatever cheap ale Sasha had convinced you to try, is still in your hand. You raise an eyebrow, tilting it slightly. “I’ve had one drink, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t budge. “And I’ve seen what happens when you lot get carried away.”

Around you, the others fall quiet, the easygoing atmosphere from moments ago shifting under Levi’s presence. Even Jean—who, on his own birthday, should technically be allowed to act out a little—sits up straighter, eyes flickering toward you with mild concern.

You swallow, knowing that Levi is right, that the last thing you need is to be unfocused, careless.

Still, you offer a small, placating smile. “I hear you, Captain. Don’t worry—I know my limits.”

Levi watches you for a moment longer, gaze lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. But then he exhales sharply through his nose, something between a sigh and a quiet acknowledgment, before stepping back. “Tch. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

You nod, and with that, Levi finally retreats, making his way back toward his own table.

The second he’s out of earshot, Sasha lets out a long breath. “Wow. He really keeps an eye on you, huh?”

Jean shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or be impressed you can get away with talking back.”

You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t talking back. I was just… clarifying.”

Mikasa hums. “He didn’t call anyone else out. Just you.”

That gives you pause.

You glance back toward Levi’s table, where he’s now sitting with Erwin and Hange, sipping from a teacup instead of anything stronger. His posture remains the same—composed, indifferent—but his awareness of the room is ever-present.

And maybe, just maybe, his awareness of you is a little sharper than the rest.

You turn back to your friends, shaking your head. “You’re all reading too much into it.”

Sasha smirks. “Are we?”

You don’t answer.

You just take another sip of water, ignoring the way your heart betrays you with a quiet, persistent rhythm.

—

The world feels a little softer around the edges, the golden glow of lanterns casting everything in a dreamlike haze. The warmth of the alcohol hums beneath your skin, not overwhelming, but just enough—enough to dull the weight of the past week, enough to make the music sound richer, enough to let yourself exist in the moment without overthinking it.

The tavern is alive now, laughter spilling over the strum of instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor in time with the lively rhythm. Around you, your friends are caught up in the revelry—Connie and Sasha are engaged in some ridiculous footwork competition, Jean is attempting to twirl Historia around and failing miserably, and even Mikasa, ever composed, allows herself a small smile as she watches the chaos unfold.

And then—your hands are caught in someone else’s.

You blink, surprised, as a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy grin—takes your hand and pulls you into the movement of the dance floor. His grip is firm, his confidence easy, and before you can even register it, you’re being spun into the rhythm of the music.

You offer a polite smile, adjusting to the steps as he twirls you once, twice. He seems friendly enough, his expression open and relaxed, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, let yourself be just another person in a tavern, caught in the joy of the night.

But then—

His hold tightens.

Subtly, but noticeably.

His hand lingers just a little too long on your waist, his grip just a bit firmer than necessary.

Your instincts, dulled by the pleasant haze in your mind, take a moment to catch up. You keep your smile in place, but a quiet unease settles in your stomach. You try to subtly shift your weight, to create some distance between you, but he moves with you, maintaining the closeness.

A polite exit. You just need a polite exit.

You clear your throat lightly, offering a small laugh. “Alright, I think I need a break—”

The man chuckles, still holding you in place. “Come on, one more dance.”

Something in his tone makes your skin prickle—not outright threatening, but entitled, as if your willingness to dance once meant you owed him more.

Your smile tightens. “I should really—”

And then, before you have the chance to finish your sentence, the air changes.

A presence—sharp, heavy, unmistakable—settles behind you.

The man stiffens slightly, his grip loosening just enough for you to slip a step back, as a new voice cuts through the space between you, low and edged with quiet authority.

“Let her go.”

Your breath catches.

Slowly, you turn your head.

Levi stands there, expression unreadable, eyes dark and steady. His posture is relaxed—but in that way, the way that suggests he is anything but. His arms are crossed, but the tension in his shoulders is subtle, the kind you’d only notice if you knew him.

And you do.

The man—who had been all confidence and charm just moments ago—hesitates, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He sizes Levi up, as if debating whether or not to push his luck.

He makes the wrong choice.

“She was dancing with me,” the man says, lifting his hands slightly in false innocence, though his tone holds a thread of defiance. “Didn’t seem to mind.”

A sharp, quiet pause.

Levi tilts his head ever so slightly, eyes flickering between you and the man with chilling precision. His voice, when he speaks again, is calm.

“I wasn’t asking.”

The weight of those words settles between them, heavy, immovable.

Something flickers in the man’s face—hesitation, irritation, then a quiet understanding that this is not a fight he wants to pick.

With a huff, he raises his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she had a guard dog.”

You feel Levi tense, just for a split second.

Before anything can escalate, you step forward, offering the man a sharp, polite smile. “Thank you for the dance,” you say evenly, voice firm. “But I’m done now.”

The man’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, then finally, he scoffs and turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

The tension lingers, like a blade just barely sheathed.

You exhale slowly, turning fully toward Levi.

His gaze sweeps over you—quick, assessing, making sure you’re unharmed. When he’s satisfied, he clicks his tongue. “You need to be more careful.”

You cross your arms. “I was being careful.”

Levi raises a brow. “Didn’t look like it.”

You huff, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was handling it, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes flicker over your face again, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally—

“I know.”

It’s not an admission of fault, not quite. But it is an acknowledgment.

You blink, caught off guard by the quiet weight behind those words.

Before you can say anything, he exhales sharply and steps back. “Oi. You’re reckless.”

You smirk. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Levi doesn’t dignify that with a response, just shakes his head. But there’s something different in the way he looks at you, something lingering beneath the usual exasperation.

Something like relief.

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t the only one who noticed the way he paused tonight.

—

“Well Captain?” You smile, laughing as you sidestep to avoid Sasha twirling with a recently hired chef that you had seen around a lot more recently. “Isn’t the gentleman supposed to offer the lady a dance? Awfully rude to step in without an intention of following through, don’t you think?”

Levi exhales sharply through his nose, unimpressed, arms still crossed as he watches you with that unreadable expression. The tavern is alive around you—figures moving in vibrant swirls of laughter and motion, the wooden floor shaking beneath the weight of stomping boots, the rich hum of music weaving through the air.

But here, in this moment, it’s just you and him.

You smirk, tilting your head. “Come on, Captain. You can’t step in all dramatic like that and not at least pretend to play along.”

Levi doesn’t move, but there’s something assessing in his gaze, something like quiet calculation behind those steel-gray eyes. You wonder if he’s thinking of an escape, a way to dismiss you with one of his usual deadpan remarks.

But then—

A hand.

Not grabbing, not demanding—just a simple extension. A silent answer.

Your breath catches in your throat.

It’s brief, just a flicker of hesitation before his fingers brush yours, just enough to take your hand without giving anything away. His grip is firm, but there’s a carefulness to it, as if he’s aware of the weight behind the action, of the unspoken shift in the space between you.

And then—he moves.

Not in the showy, exaggerated way the others are throwing themselves into the music, but in a way that’s purely Levi—sharp, controlled, precise. His grip on your hand remains steady as he guides you through the steps, his other hand finding the small of your back, light but firm.

For a second, you forget everything else.

The alcohol, the laughter, the blurred movement of the world around you—it all fades into something distant, something inconsequential compared to the quiet gravity of him.

His touch is careful but certain, his movements seamless despite the clear reluctance in his expression. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable—it’s just that Levi Ackerman is not a man who does things without purpose.

And yet, here he is, following through.

You smile, leaning in just slightly, voice barely above the hum of the music. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

Levi scoffs lightly. "You’re lucky I haven’t stepped on your feet.”

You laugh—really laugh, the warmth of it bubbling up in your chest, light and unrestrained. The sound earns you the barest flicker of something in his eyes—not quite amusement, but something close.

The moment stretches, neither of you breaking the rhythm, neither of you pulling away.

And for the first time that night, you’re certain of one thing:

Levi definitely noticed your hair.

The music swells around you, a lively, unrelenting current of sound and motion, but you barely register it. The tavern, the laughter, the blur of bodies dancing past—it all becomes background noise, a distant hum compared to the quiet weight of the moment unfolding between you and Levi.

His hand is steady against yours, his grip firm but never forceful. His other hand, resting lightly at the small of your back, holds no urgency, no demand—just quiet control, a careful presence. He moves with you in that same effortless way he fights—with intention, with precision, with the kind of quiet mastery that makes even the smallest of gestures feel deliberate.

And yet, for all his competence, you can feel the reluctance in him.

Not reluctance toward you, necessarily. But toward the situation. Toward the ease with which he’s letting this happen.

Toward the fact that he is here, dancing with you, indulging this moment when he so rarely indulges anything.

You can see it in the tension just barely visible in his shoulders, in the way his jaw ticks subtly, as if his own body is surprised by the fact that he’s still holding onto you.

You press your lips together, suppressing a smirk. “You’re concentrating too much.”

Levi exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “I don’t dance.”

“You’re dancing right now.”

“Tch. You call this dancing?”

You grin, leaning in just enough that your words are meant only for him. “Well, you are holding me awfully close for someone who doesn’t dance, Captain.”

Levi doesn’t react immediately, doesn’t pull away or push you off with a sharp remark like you half-expect him to. Instead, his grip subtly adjusts—not tightening, not loosening, but shifting in a way that tells you he’s aware.

Aware of the closeness. Aware of the way your breath brushes faintly against his collar. Aware of the warmth of your body so near to his own.

It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you feel it—that minuscule shift in his fingers against yours, in the way his hand remains steady at your back, holding you just at the edge of something uncertain.

He doesn’t break the eye contact you didn’t even realize you had been holding.

“…You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, voice low, almost lost beneath the sound of music and laughter around you.

You smile. “And yet, here you are.”

Levi exhales, his thumb grazing the back of your hand as he adjusts his grip—so small a movement, so imperceptible, that you wonder if he even realizes he did it.

Or if he does, and just isn’t stopping himself.

The room spins slightly—not from the alcohol, not from the movement, but from the sheer weight of the moment, from the impossible tenderness that exists in the spaces between words, in the breaths you don’t take, in the lingering warmth of a touch that neither of you are pulling away from.

And for the first time since you pulled him into this, you realize something.

You’re testing him.

Not just to see if he noticed your hair, not just to push his limits, but to see if he will choose to let this moment exist.

If he will choose to let himself stay.

Your heart pounds as you take a breath. “Levi—”

A crash from the other side of the room interrupts you, followed by loud, drunken shouting.

Levi’s body tenses immediately, his hand at your back twitching as his head whips toward the commotion. The moment between you shatters instantly, replaced by sharp awareness, by the cold snap of duty.

He doesn’t say a word. He just lets go.

The loss of his touch is instant, like stepping into cold air after being wrapped in warmth. The shift is so sharp, so complete, that it almost makes you doubt whether the moment you just shared was real at all.

Levi steps back, his expression neutral again, unreadable as he scans the room, already assessing.

You swallow, forcing yourself to do the same—to shake it off, to pretend like your pulse isn’t still pounding in your ears, like the ghost of his hands on you isn’t still lingering on your skin.

He glances back at you, his gaze flickering over you once, checking—like he’s making sure you’re still steady, still standing, before he turns his attention back to the rest of the room.

“Stay here,” he mutters. And then, just like that, he’s gone, moving toward the source of the disturbance with the same effortless sharpness that makes him humanity’s strongest.

You watch him go, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

The music carries on, the tavern keeps spinning, but you remain rooted in place, heart still racing, the memory of his warmth still imprinted on your skin.

And for the first time tonight, you realize—

You don’t need Levi to say that he noticed you.

Because in the way he held onto you, even for just a moment—he already did.

—

You scan the room to see if any of your friends are in danger. After seeing them slowly making their way back to the corner table, you bunch up your skirt before striding across the room to Erwin. "Commander, what is it? Where's Captain? Squad Leader Hange? What are my orders, sir?"

You stand unflinching before him, but your heart beats thunderously, unsure of where the Captain went and if he'll be okay.

Erwin’s sharp blue eyes flicker down to you as you approach, his expression unreadable but steady, as always. The weight of command rests on his shoulders like a mantle, effortless in the way only a man like him can carry. He does not startle, does not seem surprised that you’ve come to him first, as if he expected you would.

His gaze scans over the tavern, over the shifting figures of soldiers and civilians alike, before settling back on you. “It was just a minor scuffle,” he says, voice calm, deliberate. “A few drunk patrons getting too comfortable around our cadets. Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange are handling it.”

Your fingers tighten slightly against the fabric of your skirt, heart still hammering in your chest. “Should I assist?”

Erwin studies you for a fraction longer than necessary before speaking. “No. The situation is under control.” A pause. “But it’s good that you came to me first.”

Your lips press together, trying to steady yourself. “It’s my duty.”

Erwin gives the smallest nod, an unspoken acknowledgment that you understand what it means to be a soldier, even in moments like this. Even with your pulse still thrumming from something that has nothing to do with a threat.

You inhale sharply, eyes flickering toward the direction Levi disappeared. “Where did Captain Levi go?”

“He’s outside.” Erwin’s voice remains as even as ever, but something in the way he watches you is too perceptive, too knowing. “Ensuring the situation is fully resolved.”

Your stomach twists, but you keep your stance firm. “Permission to check on him, sir?”

A pause.

Not hesitation, not refusal—just assessment.

Then, Erwin gives the faintest tilt of his chin. “Go.”

You don’t waste a second.

—

The cold air hits you as soon as you step outside. The tavern’s warmth is instantly swallowed by the crisp night breeze, the scent of rain still lingering from the earlier drizzle. Lanterns flicker dimly against the darkness, casting long, stretching shadows over the cobblestone streets.

And then—you see him.

Levi stands a few paces ahead, his back to you, his posture rigid but controlled. Even from here, you can see the way his fingers flex slightly at his sides, how his head tilts just barely, listening to something unseen.

There’s a man at his feet—conscious but slumped against the wall, groaning, as if the fight had been drained out of him in an instant.

Levi had taken care of it. Of course he had.

But you don’t care about the drunk.

You care about him.

You step forward, boots tapping against stone, and his head immediately shifts at the sound. He doesn’t fully turn—doesn’t have to. He already knows it’s you.

“Captain.” Your voice is steadier than your pulse. “Are you alright?”

For a moment, Levi doesn’t respond. He exhales slowly through his nose, a habit you recognize—one he does when he’s recalibrating, shifting from fight to stillness.

Then, at last, he turns.

The dim lantern light catches against the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the slight furrow between his brows, the tension still visible in the line of his jaw. His uniform is slightly rumpled from movement, but there’s no sign of injury—no blood, no bruising, just Levi, standing in the quiet aftermath of something already finished.

He studies you for a moment, eyes scanning—searching, checking—as if making sure you’re still in one piece.

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue, looking away. “You should be inside.”

You step closer, searching his face. “So should you.”

Levi exhales, the barest hint of exasperation beneath the breath. “Did Erwin send you?”

You shake your head. “I came on my own.”

At that, something flickers in his expression. Not surprise—more like quiet understanding.

Your fingers twitch slightly at your sides, unsure of what to say, unsure if there’s anything to say that he’ll actually listen to. So instead, you just—watch him.

The lines of his face, the way the dim glow of lanterns traces the edges of his expression, how his eyes—normally so impassive—seem darker under the weight of the night.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then—

“You’re shaking.”

It’s so quiet that you almost miss it.

You blink. “What?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to your hands, and you realize, belatedly, that he’s right—your fingers are trembling, ever so slightly, still buzzing with the leftover adrenaline from the evening.

You open your mouth to dismiss it, to say something lighthearted, to wave it off as nothing, but—

Levi moves first.

His hand—warm, calloused, steady—reaches out. He doesn’t take yours, doesn’t grip your wrist, but he touches. A brush of fingertips against your knuckles, a fleeting connection, just enough to ground you in place.

Your breath catches.

It lasts only a second.

Then, just as quickly, he pulls away, as if realizing what he did, as if catching himself before he lingers too long.

You swallow, staring at him.

“Go inside,” he murmurs, voice quieter than before.

Your heart is still hammering, but it’s not from the cold anymore.

“…You’re sure you’re okay?” you ask, softer this time.

Levi holds your gaze, something unreadable in his own.

Then, with the barest tilt of his chin—

“I’m fine.”

And this time, you believe him.

[botchedsundoll]

hi ong are your requests open? was gonna ask for some early morning/late night fluffy HCs with RE men because honest to god my insomnia actin up and i'm craving some lazy fluff to read...

L. KENNEDY, C. REDFIELD, C. OLIVEIRA X READER (SEPARATE)

ೃ⁀➷ sypnosis; late night/ early morning hc’s

ೃ⁀➷ warnings; none!

ೃ⁀➷ author’s note; i wanna gts SO bad but have ro wait dor mt washing to finish 2 put it in the dryer, this is late sos lolol

C. OLIVEIRA

if it’s his day off, this guy is sleeping in. he genuinely doesn’t care

you will definitely have to wake him up, which will take a bit considering this guy can sleep like CRAZY if he feels like it

once you do succeed in waking him up, he’ll most likely just stare at you blankly - eyes still half lidded and lips apart as he wonders why the actual fuck he’s up at a time like this. but considering it’s you, he’ll put up with it

most likely wrapping his arms around you, trying to coax you back to sleep - if that fails, he’ll just listen to whatever you’re saying to him, giving a response here and there till his body fully wakes up and is coherent enough to maintain the conversation normally

late nights and you not being able to go to sleep? this guy will try his hardest to get you to sleep. whether it be going for a run to wear you out, snuggling together on the couch whilst watching a movie or running you a nice relaxing bath - anything to tire you out, atleast a bit

if all that fails? he’ll settle on just cuddling on the couch whilst a movie plays in the background and having a conversation about practically anything - most likely ends up in him asleep and snoring

L. KENNEDY

lets be real, this guy barely sleeps anyways

but he’s a bit of a hypocrite, constantly on your ass about how unhealthy it is for you and how you should go to bed. he cares about you, he wants you to get your rest!

he’ll most likely try to coax you into bed with whatever means possible but when that fails, he just accepts it and stays up with you

whilst constantly grumbling under his breath about how you should go to sleep. but he understands

early mornings? the feeling of your hand shaking him awake is enough to cause him to wake up (on the occasion he does manage to go to sleep..)

probably just ends up in him getting ready for work, you following him around like a lost puppy talking his ear off about whatever - the last couple minutes before he has to leave for work is spent with him trying to get you to get some shut eye, tucking you into bed and running his fingers through your hair whilst murmuring softly to you

C. REDFIELD

he might not sleep very often, but god does he like his sleep

it’s an absolute PAIN trying to get him to wake up early in the morning sometimes, him snoring whilst your just trying to shake him awake

once you manage to do so, he’ll probably think it’s an intruder or something and instantly be on high alert - there were a few instances where he’d gotten you into a headlock without realising it was YOU waking him up

flops back into bed once realising it’s you, pulling you down with him and grumbling something about you needing to go to sleep

but eventually he will get up. only because it’s you asking him to do so

he stays up late with you sometimes if he knows he doesn’t need to wake up early the next day - the time is usually spent doing something you’d suggested

baking one night, working out together the other, watching one of your tv shows the other

he doesn’t necessarily mind, he really enjoys spending time with you - he’s a bit of a pessimist okay, he always has that thought in the back of his mind that he’ll loose you

bless his heart give this man a hearty meal and a few kisses

[vienssunshine]

What do you really want, you psychopath?

pairing: Josh Washington x fem reader nsfw word count: 6.7k content warning: blood, violence, needles, manipulation, non-con elements (nonconsensual filming, deception) author's note: My obsession with Until Dawn returns every summer like clockwork.

You hope he's doing okay.

It's the only thought sticking in your mind as you pace on the cable car platform. After everything last year, after him shutting down, not able to talk to anyone, you hope that now, a year later, things are at least better than they were. He has mentioned a therapist, so it's a little comforting knowing he's getting the professional help he needs.

You lean your hands against the wooden railing and admire the snowy landscape, trying to push Josh out of your mind. Instead, you shift your focus to Sam, because where the hell is she? Sam insisted on you both being the first ones up the mountain, but it's fifteen minutes past the time you agreed to meet and she has yet to arrive.

Your phone buzzes with a message from your friend:

"Hey! So sorry but traffic is terrible and I'm gonna be a bit. I don't want to keep you waiting out in the cold so take the cable car up and I'll see you up there!"

Turning your phone off, you sigh. Things are going to be awkward this year. Walking in with Sam would have eased your nerves about seeing everyone again, but it looks like you aren't being afforded that comfort anymore. Worse comes to worst, you can spend the evening holed up in your guest room with your favorite book.

You step into the cable car and try to ignore how the whole thing creaks and sways with the wind. The Washingtons are rich, so they must have the money to get this thing safety checked. Right?

The music you play in your earbuds somewhat drowns out the loud groans of the car as it travels up the snowy peak. Through the frosty window, you can see what looks like a blizzard rolling in. Good thing you'll be able to hunker down in Josh's cabin.

At the top of the mountain, the doors open and you see him, Josh Washington, standing alone in the snow. After all this time, the sight takes you aback; he seems to be an apparition, not fully there.

"Look what the cat dragged in," he says, hands in the pockets of his winter jacket, "Well, I guess it was the cable car, not a cat." His lazy grin is unshakable as he speaks.

"Hi Josh," you respond, fighting the smile creeping up on your face.

"Here, let me grab that for you," he says, stepping forward and helping you out of the straps of your North Face backpack. He swings it over his shoulder and beckons you up the path.

You thank him, bashful, and follow. The trail is white with snow and dimly lit, a few lanterns hanging from the fences, their wood corroded from the harsh winters before.

"So, is anyone else here yet?" you ask, pulling your gloves on. The wind feels stronger here than it did at the bottom of the mountain, it's icy and cutting into the skin of your fingers.

"Nah, the other party people aren't due for another hour or two." He leans in with an evil grin, "So it'll be just us for a while, scared?"

You giggle, pushing the man away from you, "I don't know if I'll survive all of your ultra-corny jokes, Josh."

"Yeah? Then, any requests for what they should put on your tombstone?" he asks, giving you a lighthearted push back.

"Shut up." You shake your head, smiling, before stealing a glance at your watch: 8:03 p.m. "Actually, I guess I won't have to survive for long since I'm on time. So everyone should be due soon."

"Aww, come on," Josh says, "You know they're all gonna be late."

You punch Josh in the arm and he fakes serious injury, "Don't talk about our friends like that, I trust in their punctuality. Sam, our good, timely friend even took the initiative to get us to come early."

Josh looks around in an exaggerated manner, squinting into the dark forest, "Do you see Sammy here? Or anyone else? 'Cause I don't. Face it, they're all gonna be late. Sam at least had the decency to give me a heads-up about it."

"Yeah, the traffic's terrible apparently."

"Damn, I guess she's gonna be even later then."

You furrow your brow, "What do you mean?"

"Sam told me to expect her around 9. So, if there's traffic, it might not be until like 9:30 or 10. Right?"

"Wait, when did she tell you to expect her at 9?"

"Uh...a few days ago, maybe?" Josh glances at you sideways, "Something up?"

Confused at the discrepancy between Sam and Josh's stories, you wrack your brain. Why did Sam want you to go early with her but tell Josh she was going to show up late?

You clench your fist, Sam wanted you and Josh alone. She's known you've had a crush on him for so long and has been relentless in encouraging you to go for it. This must be her fucked up way of forcing you to.

Josh studies you, still puzzled. Staring ahead, you notice the silhouette of the lodge at the end of the path. You weigh your options: should you be honest about what you think Sam is up to or just let it go?

You elect to give Sam a stern talking-to later, reassuring Josh by saying, "Ah it's nothing." You point to the cabin, "Hey, we're almost there!"

He follows your finger and gazes at the lodge ahead, "You're right, soon we can party all night long," he says with a mischievous smirk.

You lumber up the old stairs and find that the door to the lodge is unable to be opened.

"Ah, shit. The lock's frozen," Josh observes.

"Is there another way we can get in? Or get the door unfrozen? I'm not gonna lie, I am freezing my buns off out here."

Yeah, you'd like to spend more time with Josh, but not in nearly subzero temperatures.

"Now, now, you know Josh wouldn't keep a pretty girl outside freezing her buns off for long. Wait here, I have an idea."

Josh hurries off behind the lodge, leaving you on the porch, arms wrapped around your body in a fruitless attempt to warm yourself. You look around at the dark woods surrounding the cabin. It's a dense forest, filled with gnarly trees that look like they're twisting into one another in a warped dance.

A small trace of movement pulls your attention, something shifting its position in the tree line. Anxiety begins to pour into your stomach and you look around for Josh who is nowhere to be seen. Is something—or someone—out there? You step forward, placing your hands on the railing and leaning over to get a better look when the door behind you flies open.

"Honey, you're home!" Josh cries out.

"Josh!" you respond in a harsh whisper, "Keep it down!"

Josh laughs, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you into the house, "For who? No one is out here besides me," he points to himself, "and you," he presses his finger to your chest, right beneath your zipper.

His small touch flusters you, bringing a welcomed warmth to your cheeks. It makes you forget about whatever you saw in the woods. Must have been a bird.

He leads you into the living room and motions with a bow for you to sit on the couch. "Now, if the lovely lady would allow me, I'd adore starting a fire to warm her freezing buns."

Assuming a janky upper-class accent, you respond, "Why, of course, fine gentleman. I suppose that will suffice to toast said freezing buns."

You both laugh, and it makes you forget how cold you are. It's nice to kid around like old times. Like times before Hannah and Beth ran off into the woods and were never seen again. Things were easier then, it was easier to make jokes, easier to laugh.

You sink further into the couch as Josh piles wood into the fireplace.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?" He throws one last log in and pulls out a matchbook from his jeans.

"I'm happy to see you again. It's been a while."

"Too long," he agrees, striking and lighting the match.

You shift in your seat on the couch. "I guess I wanted to ask, are you okay?"

He freezes, and the match dies in his hand.

Shit, you went too far. What were you thinking, asking him how he is doing on the anniversary of the death of his little sisters? You begin to ramble, "Josh, I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that if you don't-"

"It's fine," he interrupts, "I'm fine."

You lean forward on the couch, "It's okay if you're not. Honestly, I wouldn't be."

He strikes the match again and lights the kindling as he talks. "I know that having our friends up here is going to help. It really means a lot to me that everyone is coming back to spend this weekend together."

The flickering flame nestled in the piled-on logs is growing in size, blossoming into a healthy, cozy fire. You can feel its warmth on your cheeks already.

Josh ambles over to the couch, sitting next to you—sitting very closely next to you. You almost scooch away, but decide to stay still.

Josh turns his body towards yours. "It means a lot to me that you came."

It's hard to keep your composure; his words feel too intimate and, god, his arm is resting on the couch behind you, one movement away from wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you close.

"Thanks, Josh," you force out, looking down at your hands. Your fingers are anxiously knotted together, a clear sign that your body is short-circuiting at his proximity.

He follows your gaze, watching you fidget in your lap. He then moves in, resting a hand on yours to quiet your restless fingers and placing the other beneath your jaw, using his knuckle to gently move your chin up so you face him.

You're freaking out. This is crazy. Why is he touching you like this?

"I-uh...well..." you stammer.

"Do you like me?" he whispers.

You freeze up; what do you even say to that? There's no way you can tell him you've had an embarrassingly unmanageable crush on him since the day you met. It could blow up the entire friendship. But, it's possible that he feels the same way you do, isn't it? His face is mere inches from yours!

Unless he doesn't feel the same way. After countless cruel and mean-spirited pranks, this friend group has sown distrust into every fiber of your body. You want to trust Josh with your true feelings, but can you?

Your mouth gapes, unable to articulate the paralyzing swirl of desire and fear coursing through you.

So you stay silent, and he retreats from your personal space, leaning back against the couch cushion, "Don't worry about answering now, I have a feeling everyone will know each other a lot better after tonight."

Your brow furrows at the crypticness of his statement, but before you can think about it too much, Josh's phone vibrates, and he gives you a knowing smirk, "Speak of the devil."

He gets off the couch and answers the phone while you try to keep your brain from spinning out of control. He was so close to you, which was really scary, but at the same time, it felt really good.

Josh teases the recipient on the other line about Ashley, so you take a guess that he's speaking to Chris.

He ends the phone call and turns to you, "Gotta go pick up the kids at the end of the trail, wanna come with?"

You press your lips together, "Um, I think I'll hang back. Y'know, unpack and stuff."

"Suit yourself," he shrugs, grabbing a flashlight and exiting the cabin.

Still in a daze, you head down the dark hallway and find your guest room. You unpack your clothes into the wooden dresser and throw your diary onto the patchwork quilt atop your bed. The bedroom is a familiar space to you, but it doesn't bring the comfort familiarity typically does.

You take some time to journal out your feelings, trying to work out the complex emotions that come with being back at this lodge after last year. Then, you take some time to write about Josh. How he had possibly come on to you tonight. How you wanted it to go further.

Voices begin to fill up the halls, so you leave your bedroom and journal to join everyone out in the living room. The fire is now roaring and Sam has arrived, so you go to greet her.

You expected everyone to be making an effort to get along considering the reason you're all up here, but since Josh has to separate Jess and Emily by sending Jess and Mike to the guest cabin, it's clear that no one is putting in the work.

The rest of the group swiftly and awkwardly disperse, each couple running off to deal with something whether it be finding a lost bag or a Ouija board. Whether they're making excuses so they don't have to stick around, you don't know, but it hurts to realize that your friend group will probably never recover from last year.

For a moment, Josh looks defeated, but he quickly plasters on his usual devil-may-care smirk.

Sam heads upstairs for a bath, but not before you pull her aside and whisper-shout about her audacious set-up. She laughs it off, and you both agree she can make it up to you with a card game in your room after she washes off.

Still feeling weird about Josh and the exchange earlier, you elect to read in your room instead of hanging out with him. Only, when you go back to the guest room to grab your book, you can't find it in your bag. What you don't notice is how your journal has also disappeared from its place on top of your bed.

"Hey, Josh?" You walk back into the living room to see Josh as well as Chris and Ashley sitting in front of a Ouija board, "Oh hi, Chris, Ashley. Have any of you seen my book?"

"There's a bunch of books around here," Chris shares unhelpfully.

Josh turns toward you, "What does it look like?"

You position your hands to give them a visual aid, "About this big? Green? Signed by the author on the inside?"

Your friends stare at you, blank, and you let your hands fall to your sides.

"Are you sure you packed it?" Ashley asks.

"Yes, I'm sure, and it's special so I really need to find it."

"Maybe it fell out when we were walking up?" Josh suggests.

"Ugh. You're probably right. I'm gonna go check," you say, zipping up your coat.

"I'll go with you," Josh offers, about to stand up before you say, "No, it's...it's fine."

"Are you sure you don't want some alone time with Josh?" Chris teases. Ashley laughs a little too hard.

With a grin, Josh adds on, "What if there are some baddies out there?"

You offer a weak smile, "I'll be fine. Like you said, there's no one else up here but us this weekend. Besides, Emily and Matt are down there getting a bag or whatever."

"Okay," Josh says, throwing his hands up in defeat.

You take a flashlight and head down the trail, squinting as the snow comes down heavier and heavier. After following your friends' footsteps all the way down the path, you spot your book on the bank of a narrow creek a little ways off the trail. You're not sure how it got there but are just happy to have it again.

Brushing off the light dusting of snow atop the book's cover, you're pleased to realize that the weather hasn't damaged the book at all. You're less pleased when you hear an arguing couple headed your way. You silently curse; you had hoped to make your journey as short as possible to avoid this dysfunctional pair.

They turn the corner and Matt sees you, calling out your name with a wave. Emily stares ahead with her arms crossed.

"Hey, guys!" you respond.

They walk up to join you, but your presence doesn't make an impact as they continue bickering all the way back up to the lodge. You succeed in tuning them out until Chris and Ashley appear out of the snowfall.

Your mouth falls open as you take the scene in: Ashley is curled into Chris's chest and her clothes are soaked with blood.

You hurry over to them, "Are you guys okay? What happened?"

Emily gasps, "Ashley, whose blood is that?"

Ashley lets out a strangled sob, clinging onto Chris.

"Chris, what happened?" Matt asks.

"J-Josh," Chris chokes out.

You take a step forward, "Josh what, Chris?"

"He's gone. It's all my fault. There's...there's a psycho on the mountain."

His words are like cold hands that squeeze your heart. There's no way.

"What did you say?" Emily cries, "There's like a serial killer up here?"

Ashley begins sobbing uncontrollably, "Yes! There's a killer and he's gonna kill us all if we don't get out of here!"

"It's okay, it's all gonna be okay," Matt says, and he turns to Emily, "We need to get help."

"But Sam," you interrupt, "Sam's still at the lodge!"

"You're right," Chris says, "We need to get everyone back together first."

"But we also need help!" Emily says, "If there's some psycho up here, I'm not just gonna go back and run into his arms!"

"Here," you say, "You and Matt go get help while Chris, Ashley, and I go back to the lodge to get Sam and everyone else."

"Fine!" Emily responds, "But we need to go, now!"

You split off into your separate directions. Ashley and Chris decide to check the upstairs bathroom while you hurry to check the guest rooms.

You fly down the hallway, opening and searching all the rooms lining the corridor. When you get to your room, you close your eyes and crack open the door, praying that when you open your eyes, your friend will be there, cards in hand, ready to play your make-up game.

"Sam?" you cry out. Nothing.

You check the closet and under the bed, thinking she could be hiding but still come up empty.

You're about to turn around to go check the rest of the rooms when a large hand clamps around your mouth, slamming your back into a hard chest so another arm can ambush you, wrapping around your waist and holding you still.

"Looking for your friend?" a distorted voice asks. Your eyes widen. Shit. This must be the psycho Ashley and Chris were talking about.

You begin to thrash against the body behind you, desperate to do anything to avoid whatever fate Josh had suffered. Your fight does nothing but make the arms around you constrict, the strength of the maniac locking you in place, pressed against their body.

"I wouldn't be difficult, if I were you," the voice states, and you're frightened into compliance when the maniac presses a syringe of mystery liquid up to your neck. You whimper against his glove.

"Now, now, there's no need to be scared," he tucks the syringe away and begins stroking your hair, "As long as you behave, you'll be in good hands."

Tears well up in your eyes and you suppress the urge to fight back again.

He seems lost in thought for a moment as he uses his gloved fingers to play with your hair, but shortly regains his focus, "If you promise to keep quiet, I won't have to use that syringe I showed you earlier," he chuckles, the sound metallic with the voice changer, before adding, "Not that anyone would hear you or be able to help."

You gasp, are Chris and Ashley okay? Is Sam?

He looks down at you, and you can see a part of the mask he's wearing in your peripheral vision. "Can you do that for me? Be nice and quiet like a good little kitten?" As he speaks, he slowly pulls down the zipper of your coat, exposing your tight v-neck shirt.

You press your eyes shut and give a curt nod. It's best to just go along with what he says, you want to try to make it out of this alive.

The man releases the hand over your mouth, and you make an effort to keep from breaking down in tears. The psycho takes a step back and away as you manually even your breathing.

"Sit on the bed and face me," he says.

You take a few uncertain steps forward, as though you were walking on a lurching boat, and sit on the patchwork quilt, cramming yourself close to the wall behind you and pulling your knees up to your chest. You raise your chin to face your attacker and cold fear washes over you.

He's tall, built, and looks like something right out of a slasher film. He's wearing oversized overalls dirtied with dried mud and a creepy skull-like mask that covers his entire head and neck. The syringe he threatened you with pokes out of his pocket, a reminder of the consequences if you don't comply. Down by his side, his gloved hand grips a journal—your journal.

He opens your diary and begins to carelessly flip through it, "Hmmm...maybe I should tell you a bedtime story to calm you down. There's a lot of great material in here."

Your fists ball up, scrunching the fabric of the quilt beneath them. "What do you want?" you grit out. Those entries are personal, and you'd have no idea why this intruder would be interested in reading them.

Ignoring you, the psycho flips to the page you had left your bookmark in. "Look at that, a recent entry," he darkly chuckles at his discovery, "I wonder what it says."

Your lips tighten, of all entries, why did it have to be that one?

"It's nothing, just random fucking friend group shit," you say.

The psycho looks up, gazing at you for once instead of the pages in his hands. "Then you wouldn't mind me reading it, would you?"

You open your mouth, helpless, "Um, no...you don't need to-"

The maniac lumbers towards you, just a few steps away, before he begins to recite your words.

"Fuck, Josh is so hot. It's literally torture. I want to take him into one of these guest rooms and just have my way with him. I'd let him do anything he wanted too, like let him just use my body for his pleasure. Ugh, I'm getting all hot just thinking about it. It's killing me that we were literally alone, and I think he was making a move on me, but I just didn't do anything about it. But I don't know, I don't want to push it after his sisters..." the psycho trails off.

Your face burns, feeling more embarrassed than scared now, even with a potential murderer standing before you. Your words sound so much more extreme and mortifying after being read aloud. Is that what he's trying to do, humiliate you?

The psycho closes the journal, steps forward, and tosses it onto the dresser. He's close now, boots planted on the red carpet in front of the bed, just a few paces away. He's watching you, his gaze suffocating, so you avert your own, instead focusing on the area above his left shoulder.

A glint in the corner of the room, right where the ceiling meets the two adjacent walls, catches your eye.

"Nothing to say about that entry, sweetheart?" the psycho asks, standing there with his gloved hands by his side as if he has all the time in the world.

This is getting suspicious; why is he asking you about your crush instead of, I don't know, killing you? It seems like such a trivial topic for a killer to be focused on...if he actually is one. Were Chris and Ashley wrong?

You peer at the shady corner of the room and are able to make out a circular object: a black and shiny lens. Above it is a dim but steadily blinking red light. You're being filmed. With that realization, you put it together.

They're pranking you.

It started with Sam tricking you into being alone with Josh, and then Chris teasing you about him, and then Ashley and Chris putting on a hell of a show trying to convince you some psycho is running around. Now, they're trying to terrify you into confessing your feelings. It's all some stupid, immature prank where you are the butt of the joke.

A deep frown forms on your face and you unfurl your body from its curled up position on the bed. Fury begins to pulse through your body.

"Now that I think about it, I actually have plenty to say about that entry." You stand up, taking a bold stride toward the "psycho". His hand raises to the pocket the syringe sticks out of, but you continue unfazed.

"First, let me start off with the fact that I will not let you guys scare and embarrass me for your own entertainment, alright?" You're almost yelling now, and the man watches as you continue your tirade.

You stare down the camera, gesticulating wildly, "I have feelings for Josh, okay? I want to fuck Josh. Hard." You throw your hands in the air, "And you can play all these stupid little tricks you want on me but I'm not going to let you guys make me feel bad about it. I don't give a fuck about what any of you think of me."

You sigh, exasperated, and face the speechless man standing in front of you. "There you go, hope you guys got the laugh you wanted."

He observes you as you shift your weight, the creepy eyes of the mask staring uncomfortably deep into you. You fold your arms, "So you can take the mask off now, okay? The prank's over, Chris."

"It's not Chris."

You press your lips together, "Okay, then who is it, Mike?"

The psycho speaks again, but this time, the voice-changer has been turned off.

"I think you know who it is."

Your eyes widen. There's no way you just confessed to-

The psycho's gloved hands rise to his head, and his fingers hook behind his mask and bring it down, revealing Josh's smirking face.

You take a wobbly step back, your anger disintegrating and leaving you without the confidence to speak as casually as you just were.

He chuckles, amused by your surprise and confusion. "This isn't how I imagined this going, but I'm not complaining about it." He places his mask next to your journal that's on top of the dresser.

A million thoughts and feelings begin swirling around your head and body at a vertigo-inducing pace, but they are all quieted when Josh steps forward and takes your hands in his gloves.

"Josh, what...what's going on?" you ask meekly, "Where is everyone?" It feels so contradictory, but knowing it's him near you, with his hands in yours, makes you feel so safe.

"I set up a few games for them," Josh says, "They should be entertained for a bit. But yeah, it's all one big prank. Gotcha!"

It feels like he's holding back a full reply. You look up at him, searching his green eyes for a complete answer, only to be met with a warm rush to your stomach at the fact that his gaze is soft, loving, and entirely focused on you. It's easier to fall into his warm embrace than insist on knowing more about the stupid prank, so you choose to just let it go.

Josh looks down and away, “Y’know, I’ve always been into you. I’m not good with this kind of thing but…I’ve always wanted to ask you out. I never got the courage to tell you that until now.”

Your heart flutters. “I was scared to tell you too, I just didn’t know how you’d react given…everything.”

He nods, “It feels like sometimes it takes a life-or-death situation to get people to confess their true feelings. Like Chris and Ashley, it’d take a gun to their head to get either of them to spill their guts.” 

“You’re probably right,” you giggle. 

Josh leans closer to you, hands moving from yours so they can rest on the curve of your waist. His thumbs slowly stroke your sides, provoking the urge to move his hands underneath your shirt to feel the sensation unobstructed. 

“So,” he starts, his voice quieter, dripping with something darker, “Was everything you wrote in your diary true?” 

You bring your arms up so they’re around his neck, pressing your body into his. Your soft chest melds into his hard sternum and heat radiates through his overalls to warm your skin. 

You tilt your head so your lips are centimeters from his, “You mean how I wrote pages upon pages of how bad I wanted to fuck you?” 

His hands tighten, squeezing your waist, and with his chest so close to yours, you can feel his heartbeat speed up at your words. 

“Fuck,” he says, “I guess I didn’t know you wanted it as much as I have.” 

You lean forward, closing the gap between your lips and kiss him, hard. You melt into each other, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, devoid of any negative space. One of his hands comes up to your jaw and the other travels to the small of your back, pushing you further into him. 

Threading your fingers into his hair, you deepen the kiss, parting your lips and allowing your tongues to push into each other's mouths. He’s a little hesitant at first, but any self-consciousness vanishes when you begin to moan breathily into your open-mouthed kisses. Thoroughly encouraged by your noises of delight, he indulges in his desire, indulges in you.

His kisses are becoming messy and desperate as he works to keep receiving your pretty little noises. He runs his hands all over your body, feeling every dip and curve, wanting to touch all of you at the same time. Each brush of his hands sends tingles up your spine and you move with him, desiring nothing more but to keep your body underneath the palms of his hands.

You allow your hands to explore too, taking them downward, past the buttons of his shirt, the large pocket of his overalls, and his belt until they reach the hardness in his pants. You rest delicate fingers on it, tracing the outline and Josh breaks from your kiss to groan. 

You let out a shaky breath, “Shit, Josh. I want this. I want you.” 

He leans down and grabs the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up and against him. Now suspended, you tighten your arms around his neck, holding onto him. Josh lays you down on the quilt and you spread your body out, relaxing into the soft fabric and the euphoric buzz your body swims in. He crawls on top of you, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your neck, and finally, to your collarbone all while you giggle and pull him close.

He hovers over you, “You know where I want to take you right?”

You laugh and point your finger into his chest, “Don’t you dare say that perverted phrase.” 

He smiles, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lock his lips and throw away the key. 

He begins to kiss your neck once more, and you squirm underneath him, overwhelmed by the sensation his warm and wet lips shock through your body. His shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, so you wrap your hands around his thick forearms to stabilize yourself. 

Josh moves the neckline of your t-shirt, kissing further down on the increasingly exposed skin. Each kiss sends heat blooming deep in your stomach, making it even harder to keep still with the waves of pleasure overtaking you. His fingers tug on the hem of your t-shirt, a silent ask for removal. You’re about to comply when the shine of the camera in the corner catches your eye once more, the lens trained directly on the bed. 

“Josh, the camera?” you ask. 

“Not on,” he mumbles, entranced by the sight and feeling of your chest. 

It’s enough reassurance for you to pull your coat and shirt off, uncovering your bra and torso. Your exposure gives you a sudden wave of self-doubt about the prank pulled on you and everyone's role in it. You still have questions since some things aren’t fitting together, but, shamefully, it’s hard to think critically when Josh’s lips feel so good against you. 

“Fuck, y’know you’re so pretty?” Josh whispers into your torso, lavishing your chest with kisses and licks as he worships your body, “All of our winter trips…s’been so hard to focus with you here. Just wanted to touch you.”

Your fingernails begin to dig into his forearms. “It was so hard for me too, Josh, I’ve had a crush on you for like ever.” He kisses just above your jeans and you let out a gasp. Your hand comes up to your mouth in an attempt to muffle your noises, but Josh pins your wrist to the bedspread. 

“Please,” he says, “I want…to hear you,” he presses another kiss to your pelvis, “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” 

“Okay,” you answer, breath hitching as he unbuttons your pants. He pulls your jeans off and throws them onto the rug. “Mmm, no fair,” you whine, using your free hand to knock one of his overall straps off his shoulder. He smiles, complying with your wishes by taking his overalls off, leaving him in his button-up and dark jeans. 

“Is this satisfactory for the princess?” he asks, waiting for you to evaluate his outfit. 

You tilt your head and grin, “Hmmm…satisfactory for now.” 

“Then, may I continue pleasuring my fair maiden?”

“You may,” you giggle. 

He kneels between your thighs and strokes his fingers along the curves of your legs, marveling at your beauty. 

“You have such a tight bod,” he says, breathless. He places a big hand on your lower stomach, “And so soft, too.”

A shy smile spreads across your face; the words from your crush make you feel tingly and giddy. “It makes me happy that you like my body,” you respond. 

“I love it,” he says, bending your knees and pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, amused by how you instinctively jerk at the sensation. “You like when I kiss you there?” he asks, already knowing the answer. 

Your breathing becomes uneven as he kisses further down your inner thigh, closing in on your underwear and the darkened patch where your wetness has soaked through the fabric. Josh’s rough hands slip down your thighs, holding them open and still despite the way you squirm when his lips feel a little too good. 

He pauses for a quick moment to pull off his shirt, leaving him in his dark henley top that hugs his lean build perfectly. 

“I want more off of you,” you demand, and Josh grins, stating that “Somebody’s eager.” 

His henley top comes off and shirtless Josh is between your legs once more, kissing just a few inches shy of your underwear. His hands roam as he does, gratefully squeezing the flesh of your thighs. 

He moans your name as he licks a stripe across the inside of your leg, sending the thoughts straight out of your brain. All you know is that he sounds so fucking hot when he moans your name. 

“C-can I take these off now?” he asks, placing a hand on your underwear, a twinge of desperation underlying his voice.

“Yes, please, Josh,” you gasp, thumbs already tucking into your waistband to get the burdensome fabric off as quickly as possible. 

He groans as your glistening folds are exposed, looking like he’s about to come just from the sight of you. Within seconds he’s nestled between your legs again, kissing your thighs until he gets to your soaked entrance. His hot breath fans against you, sending butterflies of anticipation up your sides. 

“I’ve been thinking about doing this for so long,” he admits before licking up your cunt with a flattened tongue, sending one of your hands down to get knotted into his hair and the other gripping onto the bedsheets for dear life. 

He continues to lick his tongue through your folds, and you begin to writhe underneath his touch, “Fuck, Josh, it…it feels really good.” 

He groans against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body. Your hips kick up against your will, but Josh pushes your pelvis back down into the mattress, palm firmly placed on your lower stomach, fingers spread. 

“Can’t have you wiggling around, now can we?” he says before diving into your pussy one more. He bathes your clit with attention, holding your hips down and keeping you still every time a flick of his tongue is too powerful for you to handle. 

Your fingers dig deep into Josh’s hair, pulling it gently, which he seems to enjoy with the way he groans into you. His hips buck a little into the mattress whenever you pull tighter, so desperate to get off to you.

He watches you as he pleasures you, devouring every little reaction with his dark and hungry green eyes. When you look down, you can see that one of his hands has slipped underneath his jeans, allowing him to palm himself to your delightful reactions. 

He begins to suck on your clit, kissing and taking it into his mouth rhythmically in a way that might just drive you out of your right mind. His mouth is warm and wet against you and each shockwave of pleasure it gifts breaks you down into smaller and smaller pieces. 

Honestly, it’s frightening how the bliss consumes you in totality: thoughts, body, everything. It’s better than any smutty fantasy you scribbled down in your journal. Your imagination could have never conjured up what it feels like to have Josh go down on you.

“You’re s’hot,” he says in between licks, “And taste so good, fuck.” 

You moan, and he becomes sloppier with his movements, too overcome by desire to think straight. You buck your hips against him and he lets you, allowing his hand to just sit on your pelvis instead of push it down.

Tingles of electricity shoot up your sides as you ride Josh’s tongue. He accommodates his mouth to every jerky thrust of your hips, fully giving in to your carnal pleasure. He watches you, eyes half-lidded, touching himself, and completely under the spell of your gyrating body. 

“Ah—fuck, Josh I’m so close.”

“Please,” he mumbles, his tongue and mouth inseparable from your wet cunt, “I want you to, I want you to come so bad.”

A strangled moan rips through your throat as an orgasm comes crashing down on you. You throw your head back against the quilt, eyes crinkled shut and mouth agape. The pleasure hits you in unforgiving waves, slamming into your poor body until it's through with you.

Josh strokes your quaking thighs, soothing the intensity of your climax and helping you through it. 

“Fuck—that’s it, there you go” Josh coos.

Your whole body falls limp, and you lie supine on the bed, the aftershocks of your orgasm still buzzing through you. Your canal throbs, squeezing around but the copious amount of slick dripping out of your pussy.

Josh clambers up to your face, kissing your cheek and forehead as you try to slow your panting. 

“Josh,” you slur, still trying to return to Earth. 

“Mmm?” he answers, placing a gentle kiss to your temple. 

“That was really good,” you manage to express. 

He smiles against your skin, lies down next to you, and wraps his arms around your body, holding you to him with a comforting firmness. Your hands rest on the bicep settled over your chest, and you snuggle into Josh’s embrace. He’s so warm, and smells so good. He’s exactly what you need after such a violent orgasm.

Your energy depleted, you slip off, so comfortable and safe in Josh’s arms. 

Josh waits until you're fully asleep before checking his watch. Based on the time, Ashley and Chris should be waking up soon from the sleeping gas he had poisoned them with.

Careful not to wake you, Josh slips out of the bed, dresses himself, and picks up the mask on the dresser.

"Sleep well, honey," he says with a smile before shutting the door behind him.

[jman14102-blog]

Danse Macabre

An art piece I commissioned from @leafinqxi of a scene from an upcoming story I'm writing. They were fast, patient, and excellent to work with! I definitely recommend them! Thank you again for bringing to life O and Cyn, and the beginnings of what will eventually become the world's most toxic relationship.

The gramophone cranked to life, the music groaning and moaning until it was fully up to speed, filling the room with a sweeping, cascading song.

O winced as he turned, knees locking as he performed an exaggerated bow with his singular arm, winking, "May I have this dance, miss?"

Cyn's head rocked to the side, crooked little body shuddering under the change in balance. She was quiet for a moment, but then she moved, that ever-present smile unchanging as she shuffled forward, "Polite curtsy. Yes, you may."

They half-stumbled, half-walked into the center of the room as the crescendo in the song gave way to a woman's voice, every word, every note carrying with it a haunting, forlorn longing.

The maid's tiny hand found his and stretched outwards with it. Her head tilted forward and bumped off his chest, and a short laugh was his reply. She didn't pull away, instead pressing against him, rising on tiptoes, other hand trailing up, fingers searching, twitching with a nervous energy as they grazed against his shoulder. She couldn't reach, instead settling for gathering a balled up wad of fabric between her fingers. Her head drifted up, tilting slightly, eyes blinking, "I have never. Danced. Like this before. Big Brother is usually. Too. Busy. To teach me."

He looked down at her, a smile, an actual smile present there, as he gently but firmly guided them across the floor, "Well, that's a shame. Everyone here should know at least the basics. Turn with me, please?"

O twisted his hand, beginning to turn. Cyn released his jacket, maintaining her grip as he pulled her into a slow, halting spin. It was spastic, unsure, stumbling feet and disjointed knees dragging what should have been a graceful move into something ugly. She nearly fell twice, but O would stop moving each time and allow her to recover. He let her lead.

"Don't feel bad." He whispered, "Practice makes perfect."

Her spin finished, and Cyn tried to hide the flush lines on her visor as she replaced her hand on his jacket a little too quickly.

"Sheepish. Expression." She mumbled, legs quivering, her head turned to the side and pressed against his chest, "Much to learn. Yes."

They continued on like that. Slow and meandering. Their moves were clumsy, halting, neither of their bodies cut out for something this elegant, but still they danced. The earnestness, the want to drift among the moonlit shadows, guided their steps regardless. Any mistakes, any slips or stepped-on shoes, were quickly forgotten amid nervous giggles and the soaring music.

For the bespectacled maid drone and curious human girl watching through a crack in the door, it was absurdly cute. Something they'd spend the rest of the night gossiping about, snickering and smiling.

For the broken butler and the mangled maid, however, nothing changed. Time stretched on, and eventually their dancing was little more than the two of them turning in slow, simple circles. Both of her hands were now pinned to his jacket, his singular arm wrapped gently around her. Cyn's head was nestled gently against his core, feeling the electric thrum through her audials, eyes focused somewhere far away, smiling. O's head rested atop her's, chin squishing down the extravagant bow, eyes shut with a lazy grin.

"Another lesson tomorrow?" He sighed, breath ruffling her hair, her bow, "You have me now. Plenty of time for lessons."

Her smile grew, her hold tightened, she nuzzled further against his core, absorbing the warmth, the faint scent of oil, the tingle of electrodes and circuits. Her eyes glinted in the dim light.

"Yes." She said, and something vaguely resembling a symbol flickered across her visor for a split-second, so fast that none could have noticed. Her grip tightened further, refusing to let go, "I do have you now."

[harlotistic]

Helloo!! This is not-freaky-anon resending my ask because I.. forgor to put my name on it. Teehee.

"Hi!!! Hello!!! Hiya!!! Your posts brings me joy mwa mwa I love them and I would consume them if they have a physical form.

Anyways!! Lipgloss! I love women applying lip gloss actually one of my biggest kinks idk why tbh.I ate a shit ton of melatonin gummies the other day and my movements become sluggish for like a couple hours before completely passing out on the floor miau. Dw this has happened often lol.

So I propose to you!! An extremely sluggish airheaded MC applying their lip gloss so slowly because they have to attend this very important meeting/gala/party with their beloved boyfriend even though each cell in them is begging for sleep.

The LLs just.. watches. Gulps, even. Salivates? Idk. They're transfixed for some reason and they can't help it because omg here's their pretty little girlfriend applying a white-based sparkly lipgloss to make up for the lack of shine (because they're too lazy) on their face and all they could think about is how MC should wear their cum as their primary lip gloss.

When the LLs asked why MC applied it like that they just go "Oh -w- I'm sleepy -w- I can't function rn I'm so sorry -w-" and thoughts of fucking the sleepiness out of them and abandoning the gala entirely runs over LLs buffering brain.

That is all!!! Live love eat!!! I will come back sometime later to provide heavenly weird girl pussy ask!! Buh-bye!!!!"

hi not freaky anon!! i was about to sayyy hehe :)) ty for the ask!! also please are you alright?? why are you constantly going through it 😭 hope you got a good rest and are feeling better!!

the prettiest shade

tw. oral sex (m receiving), sleepy sex, nsfw

that lipgloss colour is actually diabolical like white based sparkly lipgloss??? at this point you just want to tease them! they're just watching fully entranced as you glides the applicator on your slightly parted soft pretty lips. their cocks twitching in their pants and fingers clenched tight as they try to remind themselves that there's a gala to attend.

so when you turn around to face them with droopy sleepy eyes and lips sparkling with cum coloured gloss, all it took was a bat of your lashes and a slight pout for them to be all over you. hours of work put into getting dressed dissolved in mere seconds as they pepper your skin with kisses and nips to mark your pretty skin. whispering begging you to please let them see you in your knees, their cock between your lips.

fingers in your hair as they hold themselves back from thrusting too hard, balls drawn tight from the way you whimper and moan against their cocks all sleepy and cute. watching the way you rutted your clothed core against the carpeted ground because your hands are occupied with holding onto their thighs. so when their hips shudder, they pull out with effort to spurt it all over your tongue and tits. panting as they scoop the mess and spread it across your lips with shaky fingers.

"this shade suits you so much better..."

[carcarcraziiv2]

The Woman with the Pink Hair (P. 1, 2, 3)

Hello my friends! I bring to you The Woman with the Pink Hair! This is a Vi x Fem! Reader fanfiction.

I will post this gradually, maybe once or twice a week until it is fully out! (If you are impatient, you can view it on my Wattpad-> @DatBishCar)

Please note that this is the first piece I wrote after a HEFTY (I mean years long) hiatus from writing.

P.S. Lowkey I KNOW there's a bunch of shit I could fix in here to make it better due to my practice over the past year or so, but I just... I'm so lazy rn LOL. Anyhoooooo....

ALSO- here are the TW for you lovelies! (This is for the WHOLE SERIES)-

Violence, mental illness, oral sex, dominant tendencies, torture, kidnapping, plotting?... lowkey there's probably more but you should get the gist here, AS ALWAYS ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK ILY<3

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PART ONE: INTRODUCTIONS-

Staring at the wall. You often found yourself staring at the wall while you were bored, zoning out thinking about things. How lonely your life had gotten, while at the same time it is better than it has been in a while. You had your freedoms to go do what you wanted - walk, paint, draw, listen to music. As you did those things you constantly seeked inspiration from the little bits and pieces that showed themselves to you in every crack and crevice. 

    You enjoyed finding the positives in things that didn't always seem positive. Hell, you were living in an old shack you rented from a grungy man who you weren't sure even actually owned the place. He did, however, have the keys.

    Deciding you needed some fresh air, as fresh as it can be in the undercity, you gather yourself to head out for a stroll through the dark streets and into the markets and shops. You enjoyed people watching, perhaps you would run into someone interesting. You grabbed your jacket, a purple and black lots of pockets kind of deal, and your beanie and put them on. Your medium length hair was in a bun on the lower part of your head, and you had pieces of hair flowing down in front of your face on either side. You liked the wispy look of it.

    You quickly found yourself in the center of the town after a few turns and blocks that you had memorized by heart. The place was always semi crowded. People doing grungy things, illegal things - but in your eyes, you saw beauty. You saw people smiling, laughing with their friends. Even as there were people who looked at you with an evil glint in their eye as you walked past, you were not afraid. You knew this place like the back of your hand, you grew up here after all. 

    After reaching one of your favorite places to eat, you walked to the counter and ordered some soup. Honestly, there was no telling what ingredients were in it but you trusted the chef as they always made delicious things. A few minutes pass, and you grabbed your brown, watery looking stew and headed over to a table nearby. There was no one sitting there, and the furniture was mostly clean unlike some of the surrounding options which were covered in trash, dirt and spilled food. As you sat, you looked over to the large red headed woman who cooked and served the food.

    "Thank you!"

    "You're welcome, honey," she replied with a warm smile. She was kind of like family to you, since you didn't really have any of your own. In fact, a lot of the shopkeepers and people who constanted the area were as such. You rarely saw people you didn't know or hadn't at least met once. 

    The soup was warm, salty, and amazing as usual. You finished every last bite and took the common decency to return the silverware and bowl to the counter, rather than having them come grab it from the table. You liked helping them out whenever you could, as they would do the same for you. Turning around, you looked about. Still seeking inspiration, you were torn as to whether or not to just go home. You did have to work in the morning but were unsure as to how much you actually cared about getting rest beforehand. Scanning your surroundings from right to left, you looked at all the people, until you saw someone unfamiliar leaning against a wall, hood down, with bits of pink hair peeking out from beneath it. 

   You were intrigued.

   Gazing at the person standing there, your creative curiosity and interest peaked. You wanted to know what they looked like, and luckily right as the thought crossed your mind someone approached the woman, and she took her hood down.

   She looked tired, worn, beaten and bruised. Your heart hurt thinking about anyone going through the things that would result in looking such a way. Behind all of that surface area, you saw beautiful features, however, and felt your heart race a little bit as the woman scanned the area while chatting. You were nervous she would catch you staring, so you pretended to look down quickly.

   The woman was becoming more agitated speaking with the person in front of her, and suddenly pushed them away. She started walking quickly away from you.

    Oh no... you thought. You did not want to lose this person, as creepy as that sounds. You decided to follow them only for a few minutes. Sometimes strangers led you to streets and places you would have never gone to yourself. You weren't only following her to be creepy. 

   You jumped up and started walking in the same direction as the woman. She was fast, so you had to speed walk a little bit. You took a few turns and short stops, all at places you had been before and studied before. Although you were interested in her, you decided that you would turn around and head home. 

    Right before you turned heel, the woman turned down a narrow dark alleyway. Ok... you thought. Now what is she doing? You waited a few moments before turning, too. You didn't want her to see you and recognize you. She looked like she might get a little angry about that. 

    Very quickly, you realized you had made a mistake. Three large men appeared from the shadows in front of the woman. And she stopped, looked up to the sky, and sighed loudly. You took the opportunity to hide behind a stack of boxes that were next to a dumpster on the left side of the alleyway. You peeked out from behind them and watched the confrontation ensue.

    "What do you need, boys?" The woman said, stepping over to lean on the wall next to her, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

    "We saw a pretty girl like you, and decided we needed to have you. What'ya say, sweets?" One man said. His voice was gravely, low, and you swore you could smell him from where you were. The other two men were sneering behind him, adjusting their waste bands. 

    The woman laughed. And she laughed loudly. Your eyes widened at the sound, it was like a sweet music, even in this scenario.

   "You don't know what you're about to do, dirtbag," the woman said while laughing. The man's expression quickly changed to one of anger, and he started approaching her. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," She warned. The man laughed slightly and kept approaching, to which the woman responded-

    "Idiot".

 ---- Vi's POV ----

    Vi sneered at the man coming at her. She had a rush of adrenaline from the argument she had with the junky at the markets earlier already and needed to get rid of the urges she had to punch something. She decided these guys would do the trick.

    As the man approached, Vi took the cigarette out of her mouth and flicked it at him. He jerked back. Really? Afraid to get burned? That should be the least of your worries. As he jerked back, she grabbed him by the front of his coat and head butted him, wasting no time while he was in shock to bring her right fist up and slam it into his face.

    "By the way, the name is Vi."

    The other two men started to approach her, and she gave them a look that said "really?". They came to her from opposite sides, and she easily grabbed both of their backs, took a step backward and slammed their heads into each other. The men both collapsed to the ground rubbing their heads and yelling at one another. 

    The first man was starting to get up off the ground, but this time he looked afraid. Vi gave him a look that made him tremble and told him "Get the fuck out of here. You and these two dumbasses. I don't want to see you causing trouble to anyone again. Got it?" They hesitated, "I said get the FUCK out of here!" She yelled this time. The men got up and ran away like little children. Pathetic. 

    Vi turned around and saw someone staring at her from behind a dumpster. It was that girl from the market, the one that caught her eye. She had noticed her following her but didn't think she still was at this point. Vi grew angry, her adrenaline still running high through her veins.

 ---- Your POV ---- 

    As the fight finished up, you were holey prepared to turn tail and book it out of here. You decided you were following someone really dangerous and became scared. That is right about the moment when the woman turned around and looked right at you, rage in her eyes.

    You stumbled backwards, turning and trying to run away. "Fuck" you muttered as you slipped immediately after trying to start running. You looked backward for a brief moment as you stood, and realized she was right behind you. The woman shoved you roughly into the wall behind you. Her hand on your neck.

    "WHO are you? WHY are you following me? WHO are you working for?" The woman yelled in your face. Although you were afraid, short of breath and absolutely dreading what was to come you were enamored by her beauty. "Hello?!" She broke you out of your trance, "I asked you a question!"

    "N- n- no one! I'm not working for anyone" you stammered, your voice weak from the vice like grip she had on your neck.

    "Liar," she said calmly, her grip tightening ever so slightly on your neck. You felt pressure in your cheeks and above your eyes, and you became truly afraid that you may die. 

   "I- I'm no- not lying," you struggled to say. "I just tho- thought you looked go- good so I followed you to get inspi- inspiration for my art."

    Her grip loosened ever so slightly. You sensed she could tell you were afraid. Maybe she could tell you were not lying, but you were unsure. You really couldn't trust strangers down here. She shoved her finger in your face, and bit her teeth together. Through this, she said -

    "Don't fucking follow me again. That is creepy as hell." She released you and you fell to the ground, rubbing your neck. 

    "I- I won't!" you promised, looking up. But realization quickly hit that she was already gone, as you saw her walking the rest of the alleyway past where she beat those men, with her hood up and hands in her pockets.

    You took the opportunity, got up, and ran your ass all the way home. You heart was beating very quickly, and you were still terrified. Hyper aware of everything around you. The wind making the tendrils of your hair fly next to your face as you ran.

 Finally, you got home and got inside, collapsing on the ground from exhaustion.

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PART TWO: Ubiquity

  The next few weeks, you continued on with your life. Going on walks, working, eating, and drawing. Drawing someone who you could not get out of your head. The woman with the pink hair. After your encounter, you swore you saw her everywhere. Places you had never seen her before. 

    One day, she was at the market getting food from your favorite place. She looked like she liked the woman who had previously given you your soup. She was smiling, and you noticed her put down a gracious tip onto the counter before collecting her food. You stayed very far back before cowering and going back home. 

    Another day, she came into your work. You didn't think she was looking for anything in particular, she was just browsing, probably bored. You watched from the back-room door as she fumbled with some of the little figurines you had placed out and watched her put them back down as if they were so fragile, she might break them by breathing on them.

    On this particular day, you headed to work. You were tired and worn out from the last weeks' worth of work already but still had today before you finally got a day off. You worked in a small nick-nack shop that a lot of people who created gadgets frequented. You decided to stop and grab some coffee at the warn down coffee stand out front of the shop you worked. The stand was musty, creaky, and downright shouldn't even exist anymore. But what are you to do when you are so limited to recourses as you are down here?

    "Hi, can I have a coffee, something sweet?" You smiled at the barista. They did not smile back.

    "2 dollars." They stated. They were tall, skinny and looked as if they were addicted to... something. You handed them the money and they gave you your coffee, immediately turning away to attend to the next customer. You started taking a sip, it was bitter, and you let out a hiss. Slowly turning to your left, you jumped and let out a little yelp.

    It was the woman. She was standing beside you against the wall, staring at you as if she was pondering something. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she took a drag off her cigarette. 

    "You still following me?" She smirked. Your eyes widened and you felt your heart beating a thousand beats per minute. She was wearing the same getup. A red jacket that looked warn. Her tired look was no longer, but she did look wary and had a few scratches, including one on her lips.

   Her beautiful pink lips. 

   "Hey, my eyes are up here," she snorted. You gasped.

   "Oh, shit. Sorry... No, I am not following you. Trust me I don't want to get strangled again." You said way too quickly. A few people glanced over at the two of you, and you lowered your head. You could feel your cheeks becoming red.

   "Then why are you everywhere I go? I have seen you at least 3 places besides the first time we encountered one another. Who are you?"

    "Well like I said, I am not following you," you stated. You felt a little frustrated that it wasn't getting through her head. "And I don't appreciate you accusing me of such!"

   She laughed. That same beautiful laugh she had right before she beat the shit out of three huge men.

    "It wouldn't be the first time, weirdo. Now, I am not going to hurt you again. Trust me. I was in a fit of rage and... yeah. Just can you trust me on that?" She looked genuine. You felt yourself loosen up a bit. "What is your name? I'm Vi," she reached her hand out towards you.

    "I'm (y/n). And I guess I can," you stated hesitantly. You reached your hand out and grasped hers. It was calloused and hard against your soft one.

    "So, you're really an artist?" She asked, sitting down on a bench across the walkway. You followed, and sat next to her, looking at your wristwatch. You had about 30 minutes until you had to go in to work behind the coffee shop.

    "Um... yes. It's a hobby," you said shyly. You brushed a loose piece of hair back behind your ear and looked over at her. "And you're a street fighter?" You said raising your eyebrow.

   She laughed again. You couldn't help but smile too.

   "Well, technically, I guess you could call it that. I really only fight when I have to, or if I am in the mood to do so. I am the kind of person who just goes with the flow, I guess. I have no real goal right now...". You noticed that she was becoming saddened, but not enough to fully show it through her tough face. She stretched her legs out and laid back against the back of the bench and looked up at the sky. You noticed a few features you hadn't previously. She had a tattoo on her cheek that read VI and a gear tattoo on the side of her neck. She had scars, a lot of them. You wondered where she got them but put the pieces together and assumed they were probably from fights.

    "Do you fight a lot?" You blurted out, unsure if the question would offend, anger or sadden her. She looked at you dead in the eyes with her sky-blue ones, serious as can be.

    "Yes."

    She was so mysterious. You wondered about her life, her story. You wanted to know more about her but there was still and underlying fear and feeling of uneasiness around her simply because of how the two of you first interacted. You rubbed your neck as you remembered the happening. 

    "I am sorry for what I did to you before. It was out of line. I shouldn't have assumed you were some person who was hired to go after me." Vi reached up and put her hand on your shoulder for a split second. You felt yourself get warm all over and blushed.

    "Um, I guess it's okay?" You shrugged. You weren't actually okay with it, but you didn't want it to be the reason why you two wouldn't talk again. You wanted to talk to her again, so you gathered yourself and in a brief confidence asked, "Do you want to hangout sometime? Like we can get coffee or food or something?"

    She looked taken aback, and you immediately began trying to remedy the situation. You were embarrassed. "I- I'm sorry it's okay if you don't want to I totally under-"

    "(y/n), Its okay. I would like that." She stopped you and stated. You smiled coyly and looked down at your coffee, then back up at her.

    "Okay, cool. Meet me here tomorrow, same time?" You got up. "I have to go to work, actually. Like right there. I am a few minutes late..." You couldn't believe that 35 minutes had already passed by and knew the boss man was not going to be happy that you were late. You said your goodbyes and headed into the shop. 

    You were right, the man was not happy.

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PART THREE: Awkward Encounters

 You and Vi had plans to meet the next day. On one hand you were giddy with excitement. On the other, you were nervous. Very nervous. You weren't entirely sure you could trust the temperament of this woman. As you laid in bed, you had thoughts of what the day ahead would look like. What kind of interest did Vi have with you? You were certain you had interest in her, but you didn't know what kind of interest it was. You imagined the two of you in different scenarios, such as friendship, or as lovers. Friendship seemed amazing, but lovers felt even better. You smiled at yourself and rolled over. Either way, you decided you were going to have a good time.

--THE NEXT DAY--

    Waking up energized, you decided since it was your day off, you would try to do as much as possible. If Vi was up to it, perhaps she could tag along. You got up in the morning from your bed and comfortable plaid duvet to go shower. In the shower, you washed your hair as well as wash and shaved your body. The water was warm as it caressed your figure. You imagined it was Vi.

    What am I thinking? You contemplated. You two had only just met and it was a strange encounter to say the least. You shook your head in dismay, blushing at the thoughts you were dismissing. You hopped out of the shower and grabbed one of the towels right outside the curtain. You always laid the towel on the toilet seat so it would be easier to get to. Stepping out of the shower, you stood in front of the mirror above the sink. You were a tidy person, but today it was a little bit messy in there.

    Taking a small hand towel, you swiped the glass on the mirror so you could see your reflection. Although you looked tired, you still felt energetic. You were too giddy to feel tired. You decided today you were going to put on a little bit of makeup, just mascara and eyeshadow. Walking out of your bathroom and back into your room, the towel draped across your midriff, you looked in the closet to pick out an outfit. 

   Deciding on black jeans, a baggy brown knit sweater, and your warn old brown boots you tossed them on. The sweater was warm, which was perfect for this time of year in the Undercity. You got everything on, tossed on a few rings on your fingers, and headed to the door. beside the door was a coat rack, which you grabbed your oversized black leather jacket off of and threw on. You smiled as you walked outside and took a deep breath of air.

    Your heart was racing, but this time it was from excitement. Never had you thought you would be so brave as to ask someone you had just met (who admittedly had almost killed you) to hangout. You rolled your eyes at yourself and dismissed the thoughts from coming back. You refused to let that ruin your day or come back up ever again. 

    You made your way down the street and your usual route to the coffee shop in front of your work. As you approached, you had hoped Vi would be there early, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was 5 minutes before your set meeting time, but you were not worried. You ordered yourself and Vi a coffee at the stand and sat at the bench you both had your first meaningful conversation at. Taking a sip, you looked around and took in the area, hoping to remember every last detail that you may not have already memorized. 

    You looked down at your watch and realized time had already passed. 10 minutes, actually. You were getting worried that she wouldn't show up. After another 5 minutes, you decided to get up and walk into the shop you were employed at. The shop keep looked confused why you were there, but you said-

    "Don't worry, I am just visiting. I rarely get to come in here as a customer."

    "Oh, okay." he smiled slightly. He seemed to be in a better mood, but then you bumped into a shelf beside you. You jerked yourself to the right to correct it and ensure nothing fell off. "Just don't break anything," he sighed, rolling his eyes. He was a big man, not fat but muscular. He seemed like he could handle himself in a bar fight if he had to.

    "I promise I will not break anything," you laughed slightly. You turned your back to the man and back towards the window out front, and you saw her.

    She was beautiful, sitting there on the bench on the same side she had last. Her fingers were tapping the back of it and she was looking around nervously. You decided to set down the figurine you had in your hand and rushed outside. You were relieved she actually came.

    "Vi!" you smiled, rushing over to her. She smiled back and began to stand, when you felt someone run into you, knocking you to the ground. You were shaken, and looked up towards the direction the person was going. "S-Sorry!" you hollered to the person, but they kept going.

    "Watch it, Asshole!" Vi yelled in their direction, coming over to you to help you get up. Luckily, you had already gotten rid of the coffees as they had gotten cold. You stood and brushed yourself off, thanking the world silently for the ground not being wet today. Sighing, you turned to Vi and embraced her in a hug.

   "I am so glad you made it," you smiled, releasing her. She had not returned the embrace, but you were okay with that. Not everyone is a hugger and she appeared shocked.

    "Oh, uh yeah. Sorry about that. I had some things I had to take care of," she muttered, appearing to blush and took her hand through her hair. As she did this, you couldn't help but watch the muscles in her arm flex, as she was only wearing a t-shirt. She cleared her throat, and your eyes darted back over to her face. 

    "So, um, are you hungry?" you quickly changed the subject. She nodded, and you started walking. She followed.

    The two of you walked side by side for quite some ways and decided amongst yourselves to go to one of Vi's favorite places. You had never been there before, but you had walked by it many times. You were in awe at the fact that you had not ever seen Vi before. You walked inside the establishment with her. It was large and smelled of drink. You noticed a decrepit old bar towards the back, and wooden tables all around. There were a few people in there, but not many. Vi walked to the back and sat at the bar. Sighing, as she looked around.

    "You know," she started, "My dad used to own this place. He died trying to protect my family." A pained expression crossed her face. You frowned.

    "Oh, I am so sorry..." you weren't the best at comforting people and looked down at your hands. Luckily, Vi decided she wanted to change the subject and called the bartender over, ordering you both a drink. You didn't normally drink, but today you were willing to allow it. After all, you did decide you wanted to have fun.

    After a few rounds, you both and really let loose a lot. You were laughing with each other and had gotten to know more about each other's lives and interests. 

    "...And then!" Vi laughed as she was finishing her story, "He fell on his ass into the puddle, right beside us!" You grimaced and laughed with her. She had just told you about a fight she had gotten into. It seemed to be a lot of the talking points she had, but you didn't mind. Actually, it impressed you how confident she was in herself. 

    In your tipsy state, you leaned forward, putting your hand on her thigh to keep your balance. She looked down at your hand, and back up at you.

    "I am sorry for following you," you slurred. "I thought you were so beautiful... I wanted to see what you were about..." blushing, you turned away, but your hand still laid on her thigh. You felt a warmth over your hand and looked back over. Vi had placed hers there, on top of yours. Butterflies fluttered throughout your stomach.

    "(Y/N), it's okay. Really." The two of you had gotten closer, without even realizing it. "To be honest, I saw you at the market before I even started walking. You were looking down at your hands, but I could tell you were pretty. I almost came over to you, but I chickened out."

    Your eyes widened, and you blushed profusely. You leaned towards her slightly. You weren't even sure she was interested in women, but you didn't care. You were really really hoping she was. Suddenly, Vi removed her hand from on top of yours, and lightly placed it on the back of your neck. She looked you in the eyes, and you tilted your head ever so slightly looking back into hers. She leaned in, pulling you closer gently, and pressed her lips against yours. You leaned into the kiss and melted. Her lips felt like heaven against yours. They were soft, supple, and warm. 

   As she pulled away, you felt your hand absent-mindedly reach up and caress your mouth. You were blushing even harder than before and looked at her. She was smiling a huge face splitting smile. She looked proud.

    "Wow," she stated.

    "Wow," you repeated back. 

    "Bet ya weren't expecting that, were you?"

    "No, but I liked it. Did... did you?" you asked nervously.

    "I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to." She giggled. You smiled and turned back towards the bar, twirling your finger around the straw in the glass. You wanted another, and so did she. You knew because soon there were two new drinks in front of you both. 

    You looked over at Vi. She was just finishing a sip of her drink and looked over at you as she set it down. 

     "Do you want to come to my house tomorrow and see some of my art? I already saw you fight, so I figured it would be fair if I showed you some of the things I have done," you asked sheepishly. She smiled, but this time it was sly. Like someone looking at something they wanted to eat, to devour. 

    "Absolutely."

    The two of you finished your drinks. The day was nearly over, and you hadn't done any of the things that you had planned. You were okay with it. In fact, you wouldn't trade how this day went for anything. Before leaving the establishment, Vi offered to walk you home. You had a feeling she wanted to keep you safe, and you appreciated it even though were not afraid. This also made it easier for her to find your home the next day, so she could come look at your art.

    You continued talking to one another as you walked back to your house. She had her hands in her pockets, and you had yours in your own. The streets were dark and there were hardly any people out, as most of the shops had closed. 

    Approaching the old shack of a house you called home, Vi let out a whistle and turned to you.

    "Quite the place you got here, huh?" She grinned, teasing you.

    "Hey, its home to me alright? Can only do so much down here." You reached up and lightly smacked her arm. Before you could lower your hand, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to her. So close, both of you were touching bodies. Vi was taller than you, and looked down at you slightly, as you looked up at her. She smiled and planted another kiss on you. This one more passionate, inviting. You could feel her warmth enveloping you as her arms held you. 

    Releasing from the kiss, you tried to stammer out a goodbye, but Vi had already started walking away. 

     "See you tomorrow, sweet stuff!" She said, waving as she walked backwards. She had a huge grin on her face.

    "O-Okay! See you tomorrow!" You smiled back. You turned around and got inside, shut the door and leaned against it. You did a little happy dance in your spot. 

    Wow... you thought. That was amazing. 

PLEASE LIKE AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOY :D Drop a follow if you wanna stay updated on these! There are TEN more parts in the series! Oml...... lol <3 I hope you enjoyed so far!

[nyrasbloodyclover]

leave it to me (peter maximoff x mutant!reader)

a/n: i forgot i wrote this last summer so here you go! it's literally just flirting + fluff

I layed in my room and watched the fan on my ceiling spin for the last 54 minutes. I wanted to rip my head open and take out my brain. I had so many things to do that i actually didn't know where to start. My room was a fucking mess, piles of clothes were everywhere. I had to sort out my thoughts after getting off the phone call with my mom. (It wasn't pleasant.) I had to get dressed since i was still laying in my underwear and black top. I was exhausted, because I couldn't sleep at all. Oh and i didn't do my homework, so Charles won't be happy about it.

But instead of doing any of that, i counted minutes and stared at the ceiling. Like a fucking genius. My powers were also occupying me— blue stripes sliding down my arms and floating around. They weren't completely useless in this situation—I could use my telekinesis to clean my room, but I was too lazy to even do that. 

Nobody checked on me, which was kind of a relief at first, but now...I wanted somebody to help me. I had so many things to do I was beggining to think it's impossible.

"Open the dooooor," I heard distant voice from the other side. It was Peter. "You've been there for hours, come onnnn!"

Hours? That can't be possible. "I can't get uuuppppp," I returned in the same tone, smile spreading across my face. I loved being in his presence and I wanted nothing more than to open the fucking door, but there was a problem. 

I didn't want him to see this mess.

"Use your powers, stupid." He shouted. 

"Uhhh, I'm naked." I lied unsuccessfully. God, I'm so miserable.

"Now, that was just horrible." And he bursted through the doors. Despite not being fully naked I mentally slapped myself for not at least putting some clothes on. My head was hanging from the bed and i was looking at him upside down.

His eyes were filled with amusement, scanning my current position. I'd probably laugh at myself too.

"What's the problem here?" Then he added, "Besides the obvious..."

I thought I might cry. My eyes were burning. "God, I think I'm the worst student here." I put my hands over my face. "Look at this mess!" I showed around the room.

Worry covered his features ,"Hey, hey, hey! You're not the worst student. Here, I'll help you."

I wanted to hug him so bad. He was the sweetest person I've ever met, truly. But I still felt bad for not doing anything.

I wanted to get up, and help him, but he put his hands on my shoulders, "Leave it to me. Now watch."

Before I even got a chance to protest, he started cleaning everything up.

And for the next 5 seconds I watched him use his super speed, going from one corner to another, putting everything back in it's place. It was really something else.

My room was finally clean. Oh my God I could burst into tears. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I jumped from the bed and threw myself at him, hugging him like my life depended on it. He chuckled and hugged me back. 

He whispered, " Now I wish i could also run through your mind, 'cause I know something's bothering you, but unfortunately, I can't." Even that made me smile. 

"It's okay. My room being normal again is enough." I broke the hug, taking my papers that were due tomorrow. "I should probably get to—"

"Oh and I forgot to mention, while I was walking around, I accidentally heard Professor say something about this specific assignment..." He explained, taking the papers from me. Was he sent here to take care of my problems? I really wanted to know.

"No way. What's in it for you?" I asked suspiciously.

"I am in your room. I am talking to you. And you're asking what's in it for me?" He raised his eyebrows and I felt my neck burning. 

"Well if i'm such a prize, you should come here more often." I meant it in a joking way, but it just sounded...wrong.

He smiled, "Oh, I will, don't worry." 

[bellysoupset]

So I was wondering 👉👈 with Wendy adjusting to Vince being Gone maybe she gets really sick and just misses him but doesn’t want to call but like maybe Jonah comes to check on her and she’s very emotional and he finally calls Vince to talk to her while she is sick or something ? sorry I’m a sucker for their love 🏳️

Hiiii, I LOVED this ask and it was overdue Leo as a caretaker to Wendy, so I did a little switcharoo, I hope you don't mind!

Also this was 🦦's request and someone else's as well!!

This is part 3 of the strep throat fic. Read part 1 here and part 2 here.

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

"Are you sure you don't wanna tag along?" Jonah asked with a pout, for the 5th time.

Leo rolled his eyes, stealing another peck and shoving Jon towards the front door of their apartment, "no, it's your sister. She wants to hang out with you-"

"You were invited-"

"Jonah, it's fine. I'm not gonna die one night alone at home," Leo grinned, kissing him again, "I have a lot of reading to catch up on. And don't even worry about dinner, I'm goin to order something in."

Jonah let out a huff, looking conflicted, "Okay... We're going to be back around ten," he grimaced and Leo chuckled, stealing another kiss and shoving him out.

"Get out of here. Have fun with Angie," he rested on the threshold, "love you."

"Love you too," Jonah sighed, fixing his trench coat and walking to the elevator, while Leo crouched down to stop JD from darting out of the front door.

Leo let out a happy sigh as soon as he shut the door, looking forward to his lazy night in. He loved Jonah, but it was good to have some time apart from each other and Leo had many plans to do ten different shades of nothing.

He sprawled on the couch and JD jumped on top of him, butting her head against his chin, "you're so cute," he cooed, scratching the kitten and smooching the top of her head, "the cutest cat ever."

She let out an indignant meow at being squeezed, but didn't pull back at all and Leo happily continued to pester the animal, kissing her all over.

He hadn't been lying, there was a lot of reading to be done and at least two different actions movies he wanted to watch. By the time he finished going through his copy of Copyright Wars, JD was purring like a little engine against his belly, curled up in a way that her fluffy tail was nearly tickling her nose.

Leo lowered the book, opening a smile at the kitten and smoothing a hand down her spine. JD didn't even stir.

He gave up on the double movie idea, since it was already almost 9 o'clock, and instead ordered food, yawning already. Leo sighed, he was getting old, sleepy at 9 PM.

It was 10 already when Leo finished scrapping the bottom of his food container and he stretched on the couch, glancing at his phone briefly. Not a text from Jon, which was good, meant he was actually enjoying himself with Angie.

Deciding he should watch the movie in bed, since he was going to most likely fall asleep through it, Leo got up to go fix the guest room for Angie's stay.

He fully expected it to be Jonah when he heard a phone ringing, so Leo took a second to realize that his own phone was in the pocket of his sweatpants, not ringing.

JD was already inspecting the source of the noise, Jon's phone fallen under the couch, and Leo picked it up without thinking, just wanting to make the noise stop.

"Hi?"

"Jon, can you- Leo?" Wendy interrupted herself and Leo let out a small chuckle, squishing the phone between his shoulder and cheek and getting back to the task of fixing the guest room.

"Jonah forgot his phone home," he entered the guest bathroom to make sure they had extra towels and then jumped at a loud noise, taking a second to realize the rattling cough was coming from the phone, not inside his apartment, "are you alright? That didn't sound good..." He paused against the bathroom door and heard as Wendy wheezed and gasped for air.

"I'm fine," she scoffed, her voice completely shot, "I'm fine, I just-" Wendy didn't sound fine, not even remotely. Not only she sounded terribly sick, and it was probably his fault by being all germy in her apartment, but she sounded sad.

"Is anyone with you?" Leo asked, biting his bottom lip and nervously looking around.

"I don't need a babysitter, I'm fine," Wendy groaned, causing him to sigh.

"Taking that as a no," he ran his fingers nervously through his hair, "alright, you need anything from the pharmacy?"

A small hesitation and he realized this had probably been the reason she called in the first place.

"Wendy?"

"Uhm- More tissues and cough syrup? I'm out," because she had fed him half the bottle.

"On it," Leo turned around and left the bathroom, heading to the kitchen where they kept a notepad to list down groceries and scribbling a note for Jon, "I'm gonna be there in twenty, don't die."

He hung up before she could complain.

-----

"You look great," Leo said sarcastically, the minute Wendy opened the door of her apartment. She had a blanket wrapped around her as if it was a cape and her face was waxy white, nose all red and raw.

He expected a response, their usual back and forth, but all Leo got was Wendy staring at him drowsily, swaying on the spot. There was a feverish haze to her eyes and she seemed really unsteady on her feet.

"Oookay," Leo cringed, planting his hands on her shoulder, "let's sit down before you collapse."

"Uhm..." Wendy allowed him to guide her back inside and Leo steered her to the living room couch, where she clearly had already set camp. There was a waste basket next to the couch, filled almost to the top with little tissue balls, an empty box of tissues, one of those tacky inspirational water bottles that showed someone's liquid intake for the day, currently stuck on "halfway there!"

Wendy collapsed on the couch and promptly fell back against the cushions, pressing her eyes closed, "what are you doing here...?"

Her voice wasn't above a whisper.

"Can't let you die, I'll never hear the end of it," Leo shrugged, dumping the contents of his paper bag on her coffee table, "when was the last time you took medicine?"

"How'd you get in?" Wendy frowned, confused, and the man paused, raising his eyebrows.

"You just let me in..." he trailed off and planted his hand to Wen's forehead, hissing at the heat, "isn't that just great. Give me your blanket."

"Uhm?" Wendy shivered violently, "no."

"Yes," Leo sighed, "c'mon, you're boiling up," he manhandled the blanket away from her and Wendy let out a pitiful whine, sounding and looking dangerously close to tears.

"I'm cold..." She groaned, frustrated and trying to grab her blanket back, "Leoo..."

"Sorry," he threw the blanket on the armchair, "when did you last take medicine, Wen?"

"I don't know," she sniffled, rubbing at her eyes angrily, "my head is killing me."

"Because you have a raging fever," Leo crouched in front of her, grabbing the brand new thermomether he had purchased and removing it from the plastic case, "under your tongue, c'mon."

Wendy opened her mouth to complain, only to immediately be hit by a terrible, painful coughing fit and Leo jumped to hold her by the shoulders as she folded in half with the coughing.

He could hear her lungs rattling and Leo cringed in sympathy and guilt, sitting next to her and rubbing her back in firm circles. Wendy let out a whimper and reached for the waste basket, as her coughs turned into gags, tears streaming down her face. She gagged fruitlessly over the basket, before finally stopping, panting as if she had ran a marathon. Leo could feel her heart hammering just by touching her.

Deciding he really didn't care if she had taken medicine already or not, Leo reached for the antibiotics that Jonah had fed him when sick. It was in syrup, which he had appreciated immensely because his throat hurt too much to swallow, and Wendy clearly shared this opinion, because she obediently took the dosage off the measuring cup.

"Alright, now-" Leo pushed her to the side, until she was lying against the pillows, and folded her legs as if Wendy was a doll, "lie down and get some rest."

Wendy let out a sigh and curled up, shivering, "Leo, I'm freezing."

"I'm sorry," he pouted, "but you're really, really warm, I don't think you should have a blanket..."

She didn't answer him, only let out a little teary whine and hugged herself, continuing to shiver. It broke his heart, so Leo started rubbing her arm up and down as if to generate warmth.

He assumed the worst was over, as nearly one hour passed without Wendy so much as stirring, so Leo got up to fix up her place. He picked up the tissues that had missed the waste basket, as well as her water bottle and went to dispose of the trash and make her some tea.

Leo was lying against the fridge, waiting for the kettle to whistle, when his phone started to buzz. He glanced at the picture of Jonah, him watching the sunset in Italy, and picked it up, "hey..."

"Hi, I'm going over," Jon sounded worried, "switch places with me."

"No, you're not," Leo sighed, rolling his eyes, "Angie is here, you're gonna stay with your sister and preferably not infect her with this bug. I can handle Wendy..."

There was a second of silence as Jonah clearly tried to argue, but found no fault in his logic. Instead he let out a groan, "how is she?"

"She's got a really high fever, but I fed her some medicine and now she's asleep," Leo shrugged, before he remembered his boyfriend couldn't see him, "it's just strep, she'll live, babe."

"Uhm," Jon didn't sound convinced, "that's a bummer, we were supposed to have lunch with her tomorrow. Angie and I."

Leo felt a flash of jealousy that he wasn't included in those plans, but he quickly pushed it away. It was good that they weren't tied by the hip, he reminded himself.

"Yeah, you'll have to reschedule, there's no way she's going anywhere tomorrow," Leo removed the kettle from the stove, "do you know what her favorite tea is?"

"Lemon and ginger," Jonah answered and Leo could vaguely hear Angelina's voice in the background, cooing over JD.

"How's Angie?"

"She's fine, planning to steal our cat," Jon teased and Leo heard Angie let out an offended gasp at his words, causing him to smile fondly at the interaction.

His smile promptly slipped away as he heard Wendy cough and choke in the living room.

"Gotta go, bye. Love you," Leo said quickly, not waiting for an answer and rushing out of the kitchen. He was a second too late, because just as he was about to circle the couch he heard Wendy's cough turn into gags and then pink liquid covered the front of her hoodie.

She groaned, hiccupping and sobbing, "I'm sorry, I- I don't feel good, I'msorry-"

"Hey," Leo frowned, crouching in front of her and pushing Wendy's short hair away from her mouth. She was still really warm, like the medicine had done nothing at all, "hey, Wen, it's fine. Nothing laundry can't fix, it's okay..."

"Itsssgross," she groaned, her pale face all red, scrunched up as she cried. Big fat tears running down her cheeks, "I'm sorry-"

"It's fine," Leo rolled his eyes, tucking her hair behind the ear, "look at me," he forced their eyes to meet, "you're alright."

She sniffled, "I feel disgusting."

"Shut up," Leo scoffed, grabbing a tissue and wiping her lips and her chin. Wendy didn't say or do anything, looking every bit a kid as he fussed over her, "arms up."

It was more than a little unnerving to not have her sass him. Leo fully expected at least one comment about him removing her hoodie and leaving her just in her bra, but instead Wendy only shivered violently, curling up and coughing again.

"I'm gonna get you a new hoodie," he grabbed the ditched blanket from the armchair and wrapped it around her shoulders, "be right back."

Once she was changed into a new outfit, Wendy curled back up on the couch, sniffling and continuing to cough every five minutes or so. Leo was tired, but he couldn't imagine just how exhausted she was.

"I made you tea, do you wanna try it? Might help your throat," he walked back to the cough with the mug and Wendy shook her head.

"Gonna come back up," she rasped, breaking into a new coughing fit and whimpering, touching her throat, "I want Vin..."

Leo's heart all but broke in a million little pieces. He couldn't help but put himself in her shoes, "how about we facetime him, what do you think?" he suggested despite his better judgment and the fact it was nearly midnight on a school night.

Wendy immediately perked up, before she frowned and shook her head, "gonna bother him," she curled up more, "then he'll break up with me."

He frowned at that, "...What? No, he won't, what the fuck?" Leo rolled his eyes, pushing Wendy's feet on the couch so he could sit next to her and then grabbing his phone, "you're not a bother, you're his girlfriend."

Wendy let out a little scoff at that, sniffling once more and Leo glared at his phone, suddenly feeling a lot more protective than he would've liked.

The phone rang and rang and then suddenly Vince's face appeared. Tired and alarmed, with a glittery star glued to one side of his face and red marks that indicated he had fallen asleep on top of a notebook.

"Leo? Kid, is really late, is everything okay?"

"No," Leo shook his head, "Wen's sick, can you just chat-"

Vince's frown deepened, as he interrupted, "sick? How sick? I can go over-"

"No!" Wendy exclaimed at that, before whimpering when that caused her throat to hurt and starting to cough all over again. Leo rolled his eyes, thumping her back.

"She's got my strep bug," he explained, "you don't have to come over, just talk with her a little, will ya?"

"Yeah, of course," Vince eagerly nodded, rubbing a hand over his face in order to look more awake. Leo passed Wendy the phone and then heard Vin's voice twice as soft as he said, "hey honey, not feeling well?"

"I'm fine," Wendy lied, causing Vince to laugh given her tone wasn't above a raspy whisper, and Leo to snort. He patted Wendy's calf, getting up from the couch.

"I'm gonna get you some more medicine," he whispered, messing Wendy's sweaty bangs and moving away when she tried to slap his hand.

He put away another dosage of the syrup, before heading to Wendy's bedroom and fixing up her pillows, pulling on the blankets as well. Once he returned to the living room, Wen was half asleep lying on her side, giggling as Vince explained why he was covered in glitter.

Leo saw as the man panned the camera, revealing his baby sister passed out on his bad, surrounded by crayons and glitter glue, "I didn't have the heart to wake her up. She was helping me grade the kid's papers."

"Cute," Wendy sniffled, "get a picture for me."

"Of course," Vince yawned, "here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna check with Daniels if he can get my seniors last period tomorrow and I'll go over to be with you, alright?"

"You don't have to do that," Wendy mumbled, rubbing at her forehead, "I'm an adult and Leo is here and-"

"She'd love it," Leo interrupted, "sounds like a great idea."

Because he knew she was lying through her teeth. Wendy's shoulders dropped with visible relief as Vince shrugged in agreement.

"It's not a big deal, honey, Daniels already keeps my seniors half my class anyway, he might as well keep them for the remaining forty minutes too."

"Who's Daniels?" Wendy yawned, smiling and Vince let out a loud huff.

"Some asshole," then his voice softened up, "get some sleep, I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I love you."

"I love you too..." Wendy's eyes were already closed and it came out more like a wheeze. Leo took the phone from her, wordlessly waving to Vince and hanging up.

"Hey," he touched Wendy's arm, "let's move you to bed, c'mon."

"Uhmm?"

"C'mon," Leo pulled her up on her feet and Wendy slumped against him, pressing her feverish forehead to his chest. Once they entered the bedroom, he handed her the medicine, "big gulp."

"It's gonna make me sick," Wendy groaned, barely seeming to be conscious.

"It won't," Leo pushed it in her hand, "and the waste basket is right here and I'll be in the couch, okay? It's gonna be fine."

"You're staying?" Wendy asked, before gulping the medicine down and shuddering at the taste. She curled up under the thin blanket Leo had left on the bed and hugged her pillow.

"Duh," Leo smoothed her hair, "of course."

"Uhm," Wendy hummed, smiling and didn't say anything else until he walked to the door and hit the lights, keeping the hallway light on, "hey Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"You're an ass," she whispered and even in the half dark he could clearly see the smile on her face. Leo smiled back.

"Yeah, well, game recognizes game, Wen. Get some rest," he grinned, leaving her door open and walking to the living room.

[safetycar-restart]

Two p3’s in a row for Pierre! I have two thoughts:

One: celebrating with him. His last p3 was so emotionally overwhelming that he didn’t even know what to do with himself and you two ended up napping together. This time, you celebrate with him fully, overstimulating him in a completely different way. You end up with a sleepy but smiley boy in your arms (again.)

Two: Piarles poly, which means you have to juggle Pierre’s excitement and Charles’ disappointment. Charles is so happy for Pierre, but he’s also so frustrated with Ferrari. Pierre wants to make Charles feel good, but he needs you to tell Charles that because he doesn’t want Charles to focus on him and push his own feelings aside.

Holy fuck I love this!!! Both of these thoughts are truly top tier I am obsessed. And I know I'm a little late for a Pierre podium ask but I don't care because we need it.

THOUGHT ONE:

I love that this time he gets to actually enjoy it? Last time was so overwhelming and emotional and he really needed to just process it and couldn’t handle much else.

You think that because he ended up alone with you last time, he’ll want to go out and celebrate with the team this time, since he didn’t do that for his first podium. However when you tell him this, he immediately says no.

He did the podium ceremony and sprayed champagne on his team and then did the little photoshoot and got hugged by everyone and whatnot. That was celebrating with his team, and he loved it, but now he wants to celebrate with you.

To Pierre, the perfect celebration for his podium would be enjoying it with his team and then going back to the hotel with you for a more private celebration. And well, who are you to deny him? If that's what he wants, then that's what he'll get.

You order champagne and chocolate covered strawberries to the room, because he deserves something decadent after his performance. And so the scene starts with you feeding each other the strawberries, which is the absolute perfect way to start a scene in pierre's opinion.

He gets horny very quickly, cause he did so well! He wants to properly celebrate!

He absolute deserves to be fucked hard. You open him up as quick as you can without hurting him, not teasing him because now is not time for that.

He lets out the most sinful grown when you first push the dildo into him, a lazy smile on his face cause this is exactly what he wanted. It's quick from him there, fucking him with no mercy because he wants it hard.

You flip onto his hands and knees at some point, fucking him hard enough to make his hard cock swing between his legs. He cums untouched the first time, groaning as he spills and then collapsing into his own mess because he arms can't hold himself up anymore.

Then, well, you aren't done yet.

You carry on fucking him with the dildo until he's rock hard again, and then decide to ride him. He's overstimulated and it feels so good and so much and he's crying and groaning and it's the absolute best.

You leave scratch marks down his chest as you ride him, not stopping until you're satisfied and he's sobbing.

And then, well, there's still some chocolate covered strawberries left.

THOUGHT TWO: POLY!PIARLES:

(Holy fuck I've missed writing poly!Piarles)

You watch Pierre on the podium, and cheer for him and hug him and do everything he deserves. And then afterwards, you go back to his driver room with him and he tells you to go back to the hotel with Charles. He's happy to go through the media and team celebrations on his own and then join you and Charles at the hotel when it's over. He sees no reason why you should have to wait and Charles should have to go back alone.

You agree with him, and message Charles to ask where he is so that you two can go back together.

To your surprise, Charles shows up at the alpine garage having changed out of his Ferrari clothes. He knows you were offering to back with him to comfort him, and he loves that thought, but he doesn't want to leave without his Pierre. Pierre did so well!! And he hasn't even gotten to talk to him! He doesn't want to leave without him.

So you and Charles wait in pierre's driver room for him.

You can tell your little bunny is upset and disappointed, because of course he is. So you let him cuddle into your chest. You hold him tight, kissing his head and asking if he wants to talk about it. Normally, Charles always wants to vent and have a little cry in your arms when he's done badly. But not this time.

This time he just wants to cuddle in your arms and think about how well his Pierre has done. He will not let Ferrari ruin his happiness.

When Pierre arrives back, he's so shocked to see the two of you still in his driver room. Charles jumps right up and into his Pierre's arms, kissing him and saying how proud he is. And he is! He's so happy for his Pierre!!!

But I think that's actually the problem? Charles pushes his own emotions aside to be happy for Pierre, but Charles is not someone who can bottle up his emotions without it ending very very badly. You and Pierre both know that, and as much as Pierre would love to just be happy for himself the entire evening, he would be a terrible dom if he did that because Charles so clearly needs attention even if he isnt admitting it.

It's you that speaks to Charles about it at the hotel room. Pierre excuses himself to go the bathroom and you sit Charles down.

"I know you're happy for Pierre," you tell him, kissing his cheek, "but you wouldn't be a bad bunny if you needed some attention. You're our little sub, it's our job to help you and Pierre would never be upset if you needed some love, never ever."

Charles is silent for a few seconds, staring down at the floor before he just mumbles "mommy..." and collapses against you.

Pierre comes out of the bathroom a few seconds later and instantly he's at Charles' other side. You two just hold your sweet bunny close, letting him cry out all his frustrations until there are no more tears left.

To your surprise, Pierre then slips off the couch and onto his knees in front of Charles.

"Bunny," Pierre says, smirking, "you deserve to feel good and I want a prize. Can I have it?"

Charles is confused, his little brain is a mess and he doesn't understand what his Pierre wants. But of course he can! Whatever it is, he can have it!

You know where this is going then, so you pull Charles into your lap and let him settle between your legs. Pierre smiles when he sees you doing that, so happy that the two of you can work together without needing words.

Pierre sucks Charles off like that, groaning around charles's cock like he's the one being pleasured. Pierre LOVES to pleasure his bunny, loves to hear Charles moan and cry and hide in his mommy's arms cause it feels too good and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Charles cums embarrassingly quickly, and Pierre swallows every last drop.

Then you get an idea. You know Charles will feel very vulnerable and subby now, wanting to stay close and safe.

So... you let Charles warm Pierre's cock and then have Pierre tell the two of you all about his race and how he got the podium.

It's bitter sweet, but the aftertaste is mostly sweet.

[loveislandthegame]

thoughts on todays volume ! i swear at least 90% of this volume was just ava spewing ”i’m not like other girls” pickme nonsense. i have no clue why she thinks she’s competing with my MC for hayden (this is rhetorical, i know it's FB being too lazy and heteronormative to branch) i only have eyes on lisbeth & jesse 😭

moving on, of course i chose to spend the night with lisbeth ! ❤️

ava caught us, and i’m getting sienna flashbacks (seriously, which weirdo at FB is obsessed with this “rival walking in on MC possibly doing bits” thing ??) and why the hell would i care what hayden thinks ?😭 if she really wanted to hurt my MC, she’d focus on telling jesse...but he doesn’t give a shit. in fact, not a single islander in this villa cares

eisha pulls MC for a chat, unfortunately just for casa drama instead of getting to know her. i thought this would be the moment where we have to choose between her and lisbeth, but we’re safe for another volume

up next is some quiz challenge, i tried to get everything correct but it genuinely doesn’t matter what you choose here, we don’t even learn what the correct answers are 😭 i was also speed tapping through ethan and jesse fighting & ava insisting that her and hayden are in sync (the lady doth protest too much, methinks)

afterwards, jesse takes us to the swing set and confesses that he likes us. i feel like that's been established 300 times now, but it was still a very sweet scene ❤️

ethan and isadora did the worst in the challenge & end up getting dumped. why on earth was telling her the truth about her shady partner a gem option ?😭 i guess it could be considered revenge for him getting you dumped, but it should’ve been free. especially since these spineless guys were fully aware but didn’t tell her because “ethan should 🥺” (sorry jesse ❤️)

MC really has the entire villa at her feet. the whole sequence of lisbeth and eisha fighting for her, hayden swooping in to take her up to the treehouse, and then caleb climbing up the ladder had me in tears

this was the hardest decision of my life. jesse is finally available, but i’m worried that not picking lisbeth here will end up locking you out of her route (if you’re wondering why i’m worried about that, i noticed that some redditors who were romancing her didn’t get her casa amor scenes. maybe it's a glitch—the coding has been especially awful this season—but it could potentially be because it‘s tied to whether you chose her or your OG LI for the pre casa gesture. so it seems like you have to keep choosing her to stay on her route, meanwhile, telling the guys you’re not interested 100 times won’t push them away. classic FB 😒)

so what i decided to do was pick jesse first, and then replayed and picked lisbeth. i think this scene was definitely written with jesse in mind, but there were some small changes, mainly about the time you’ve spent together (also the narration calls lisbeth’s bum "curvaceous" lmao)

considering this shower scene is unavoidable, i wonder if it will end up being MC's movie night clip 😳 oh well, MC has plot armour anyways

YESSSS, tristan my love mortal enemy, come back to meeee 🙏🏽😭 (watch as it ends up being two offscreen bombshells)

overall, ava is so obnoxious that it ruined my enjoyment of this volume. it's not even about her pursuing hayden, but the fact that all of her dialogue is either putting down MC or talking about how she's better than everybody else, plus the sheer volume of it. i'm tired of lazily written rivals that have no personality outside of being horrible (and to be targets of body shaming, misogynistic, even ableist and transphobic hatred from the fandom)

on the bright side, jesse romancers finally got fed !!! 🎊🥳🎉🕺🏽🥳🎉 hopefully an actual recoupling is soon, but also i don't want to decide. let us have throuples/poly relationships FB 😩

i actually wonder who else would be taking MC on a date, i thought about dean and whatever casa guy didn't get chosen, but it says "blast from villa past." maybe sofia will pull an allegra, idk

[mugram]

[opens door, Es enters]

Es: Good afternoon, prisoner–

: Oh, you’re… actually in your… seat.

Keisuke: Eh? Why wouldn't I be?

: You are the person who is supposed to be watching over us, right, Warden?

: Then, I should let you watch over us and listen.

Es: Ah, well… Thank you, I suppose. [Es takes a seat]

: My last two interrogations weren't as cooperative as you. I'm glad that I've been able to take a break from all the… 

: Conflict, I suppose.

Keisuke: Hey, I get it!

: You have to be careful, you know! Make sure nothing bad happens. 

: Oh! I've heard around you don't plan on voting any of us innocent.

Es: Where did you–

Keisuke: One of the others, I think?

: I don't know. Either way…

: I trust you.

Es: This blind trust in me…

: It's…

: What do you want from me?

Keisuke: What? No, no! I'm trusting you, Warden! You're the one with all the power here, so it's up to you to decide what to do with it.

: I don't think I'd be able to change your mind anyway, so I might as well just let you interrogate me and get on with it.

Es: Yes, yes… As MUGRAM's Warden, I must reveal your sins through an interrogation. So, let's begin this interrogation.

: Ahem, name, age, and… occupation, though you don't seem to look like you have one.

Keisuke: Hey, are you saying I look lazy?! 

Es: [laughs] Ah, well, I didn't exactly intend on saying that, but sure, if you'd like to interpret my words as such.

Keisuke: I… Aren't you younger than me, too? This feels so weird… 

: Anyways, hey! I should get back to my introduction.

: I’m Izumi Keisuke. I’m 19 and I'm in high school! Anyways, it’s nice to meet you, Warden!

Es: You're a high-schooler? You certainly don't look it.

Keisuke: Hey, well…! Man, school is so rough… Alright? There's all these tests and also having to deal with classmates. 

Es: What's wrong with your classmates?

Keisuke: Oh– Nothing, of course! I'm just saying… There's always drama and fights and other stuff… 

Es: Hm… 

: Well, that's helpful… I think?

: How has your life in MUGRAM been?

Keisuke: Oh, it's nice! It's weird not to be around my classmates or anything. 

: I've never been around so many people with working jobs, though… It's hard to find people to talk to about high-school besides people who are… like in university or something.

: Which reminds me, Isamu is nice! And, Mia! 

: I don't really talk to Mia that much; I think she's still scared about MUGRAM.

Es: I recall someone bringing up Isamu once… and Mia… Hm.

: Well, I'm glad to know your stay at MUGRAM has been enjoyable.

Keisuke: Can I ask how much longer we'll be here for?

Es: Well… I suppose, since you're being cooperative, until these trials are over and I have fully understood your sin.

Keisuke: Ah, but– Warden…

: I promise I didn’t do anything wrong. 

Es: Unfortunately, I've been brought here with the knowledge that you are all murderers.

Keisuke: …

: Look, I’m putting my trust in you, so keep us safe, okay?

: Make sure we're all okay by the end of this.

: …please, Es?

Es: Ah–... [sigh]

: I suppose.

: I'll keep that in mind. 

: …May I ask about your school once more?

Keisuke: Oh! It was nice. Classmates were fine. Teachers were nice, even if they ignored stuff sometimes.

Es: Hm? What do you mean by that?

Keisuke: There would be a fight happening in the hallway and the teachers wouldn't do anything about it.

: I mean, we put our trust in them and they don't do anything, like come on! 

: I'd listen to them – sure! – but when they're ignoring stuff like that, it's dumb!

: You understand, right, Warden? 

: You'd also listen to someone you trust, but they need to prove their trustworthiness. 

Es: So, you killed them.

Keisuke: What? Huh–

Es: They weren't trustworthy enough, were they?

: Someone let these little troubles slip by without a word and you needed to make sure someone noticed.

Keisuke: No, that's not what I–

Es: You saw this person, who you trusted, ignore these issues, deciding that they should let this stuff continue on. So, you took matters into your own hands. 

: You killed them just because they weren't paying attention to some silly drama?

: You're sick.

Keisuke: That's not what I did! I didn't do anything wrong, okay?!

: Everyone needs protecting and people need to see that! You listen to them when they need help, right, Warden??

: Right??

[Es stands up]

Keisuke: You'd listen to someone who needed help, right?

: Who needed protecting?

Es: Of course I would.

: But, I'd never resort to murder. 

Keisuke: Wh…

: What…?

Es: I believe I am starting to break down your defenses, Keisuke.

: Thank you for this cooperative interrogation.

Keisuke: No, no– Es!! [slams table] You need to understand– Please!

: I was just listening– I needed to– They asked me to– I was protecting them!!

[mechanical noises]

Keisuke: What's happening? Why is everything changing? Why is everything going dark?

: Es, please, you need to tell me what's going on–

: Please! You're supposed to keep us safe–

Es: Unfortunately, Keisuke, my job here is to reveal your sins.

: So, come now, prisoner number three, Keisuke.

: Sing your sins!

MUSIC VIDEO - Promise

[stormyseabunnyarchives]

Miraculous Ladybug characters describing each other except it's from a bad fanfic I wrote three years ago and never posted

Sooo It's finally time. Back when I wrote this, I didn't have social media, so it never actually saw the light of day, but I didn't want to just do nothing with it so I'm just gonna gut it for parts for you guys! :)

Ladybug about Chat:

Chat smiled a little bit too wide to be genuine, his eyes looking slightly crazy in the moonlight. Marinette hated how well she’d gotten at reading him, how she could read the small cracks in his calm, if not slightly crazed expression. Gently she grabbed his hand taking a deep breath. 

 “ You're really starting to freak me out.” He whispered. 

 “Sorry.” She muttered, squeezing his hand to comfort herself more than him. 

 “Lady what’s... I. What's wrong?” He pleaded, gently prodding her with his shoulder, to get her to look at him. 

“I hate to have to be the one to tell you Chat..I uh” She stuttered her voice catching a little bit 

She couldn’t look at him anymore. His eyes catching in the moonlight, alit like headlights in the darkness, staring her down.

 “You're going to have to give up even more of your civilian life to being a Hero.” 

(Actually, said superheriong instead of "being a hero" but that was too stupid of me, I had to change it.)

She dared to glance at him trying to gauge his expression, he didn’t seem to be partially upset or heartbroken which was enough for her to keep going.

Chat about Ladybug:

Ladybug spared him the smallest of glances. If he hadn’t been carefully watching her, he wouldn’t have caught it. Her sapphire blue eyes flickered towards him, the light from the window making them look almost sliver in the dull sunlight. 

The Lady of luck, who seemed to glow in the sun. How could anyone breathe when the sunlight made her dark blue eyes sparkle? They seemed to soak in the sun and shine it back out into the world, the warmth of her smile, her presence felt like the lazy afternoon sun filtering through the open window of his room. 

Chat felt his body tense and his lips tremble before his brain fully had processed the tears shining in those deep blue depths.

Ladybug seemed to shrink into herself pulling her arms to her cross protectively below her heart.

Marinette about Alya:

Marinette could never ever imagine Alya acting as timid or as soft spoken as she herself did. She was very much the girl she knew, yet something close to nervousness flickered in her eyes. There was tension in her jaw that Marinette had never picked up on before… Marinette couldn’t quite believe it. Alya shoved her hand in her pockets, trying to shake off her uneasiness, as her gaze flickered around the empty street searching for Marinette’s still form. 

Marinette quickly shifted her gaze back to her phone trying to strain her ears for the sound of  her heeled boots clicking on the wet ground.  The rain should have drowned out the sound or at least muffled it but the click clack of her heels was an ever present sound. 

Finally Alya’s boots clicked toward Marinette, giving Marinette just enough warning to click off her phone as the girl wrapped her arms around her shoulders peeking down at her phone. Alya’s tight curls fell around her like a long shawl, clouding Marintte in the scent of her Cinnamon shampoo. The scent was grounding, pulling her back from the spiral. 

 “Who you texting? Someone special?” She teased. 

Rena about Chat: (slightly edited because most of this was misspelled)

She startled at a sudden noise, turning to see Chat emerging from the shadows of the rooftop above this one. He smiled nonchalantly at her, but he curled in on himself, his ears drooping slightly, almost sheepish, clearly uncomfortable to be approaching her. 

“ Hey.”  He greeted her with a stiff wave. 

Rena offered him a small awkward smile in return 

“Hey.” 

“You mind if I join you?” He asked, refusing to meet her eyes staring past her and into the city below. Rena nodded wordlessly scooting over he could sit next to her. 

Chat folded into the empty spot, letting his legs dangle above the city below, something even Rena hadn’t built up the courage to try yet. He forced himself to sit straight, shoulders raised and tense as he started at the glittering lights below. 

“ Nice night, Huh?” 

Rena awkwardly hummed in agreement, not quite knowing what the cat themed superhero was doing there or why he was talking to her. 

“Strange time of night to be out and about...Ladybug doesn’t really show up in the twilights”

“ I wasn’t looking for Ladybug.” Rena mumbled, trying not to let her annoyance show, she didn’t quite understand why he’d mentioned his partner but something about his assumption rubbed her the wrong way. 

He glanced at her, the sharp calculating look in his eyes fading to a genuine confusion as he asked “ Then what were you looking for?” 

Rena rolled her eyes at the sky. “ I wasn’t looking for anything.. I just wanted to sit for a while.” 

Chat nodded at her stiffly.  “I do that.” 

“ hmm...mhm.” Rena threw him a bone, trying to push past the feeling of awkwardly chatting with her boss. “It's really pretty at this time of night, everything seems to sparkle… It's nice.” 

Chat nodded slightly more enthusiastically. “You choose a good spot.”

“ Thanks.” 

Having fully run out small talk the silence sat heavy between them. Nothing but the sound of cars rushing by reaching their quiet corner of the rooftop. It was quite calming to Rena’s tired brain. Chat however, began to squirm. His eyes flicked towards her, seemingly each time a car sped by, eyes burning into the side of her head. Rena had just decided she would comment on it, pointedly meeting his gaze with one of her own when he folded. 

 “Sorry about yesterday.” Chat whispered, looking more awkward than Rena in all her research had ever seen the cat themed superhero look. 

“What?" She asked, thoroughly caught off guard.

His ears flicked nervously and for the first time Rena felt her own fax ears react for her, copying the movement.

She watched Chat catch the movement in real time. Shock, fading to amusement as he bit back a knowing smile. Gone was the tension he'd worn sense the moment he'd sat down, replaced with something much softer, much sadder.

" I'm sorry about yesterday." he murmured.

Chloé about Adrien

Chloé watched him shatter, his cheeks dusted and shimmering in the pale sunlight like glass upon the floor. Her heart ached with his, as if hers had been shattered too but she made no move to help him clean up the mess. 

“ So that’s it?” He muttered, green eyes searching her face for something, anything. 

“Yeah, Adrien. I think it is.” she stated, coldly, feeling the sharp words cut against her throat. 

His jaw clenched painfully, eyes flickering across her features as if unwanting to believe her. What a joke, somehow, he was still trying to win her favor. Chloé wished he would just come out and say it; just rejoice in his new perfect life instead of pretending he actually cared. 

He shook his head, rage dancing across his green eyes and he got up without a word. Chole’s chest burned painfully as he walked away, her heart begging to follow or to make him stop but Chole made no move to stop him. Adrien was gone.

Chloé about Carapace

 She had a reputation to uphold so she sucked it up and met his eyes. Dark unreadable eyes stared back, testing her, judging her. 

Chloé bit the inside of her cheek and until she could taste copper and fixed him with the cruelest meanest smile she could muster. 

He couldn’t beat her. It didn't matter if she couldn’t read him Chloé had pushed people away thousands of times, disappointed people millions. Carapace was no different, despite the superhero name. 

Chole was sure she was gaining control of the situation when he broke the gaze first, gently resting his head in hands.

She could weasel her way out of this, pay him off somehow. It was fine. There was nothing that he could possibly do to shake her, or at least that’s what she thought. 

All of Chloe's resolve fell the second she heard him whisper, the words were inaudible, but she could guess their meaning as his suit began to fade. 

Nino about Chole

Nino had never quite understood why people adored Chole. Sabrina seemed entranced by her every movement, every word but it had never quite clicked why.

Nino had also never quite understood why people feared her either. Marinette and Nathaneil flinched any time she so much as glanced at them. To Nino she never seemed imposing or frighting; she had always just been that annoying thorn in everyone’s side. 

But for a moment, barely a second Nino understood it all. For the first time Nino had captured her attention, not the weird hybrid of her and Queen bee but Chole and Chole alone stared back at him.

 Queen bee’s warm brown eyes never seemed so far away. 

He could tell she was trying to communicate something, but all Nino could focus on was how unreadable she seemed.

Chole about Nino\carapace

 It wasn’t the Nino she barely knew whose eyes met hers. He stood over her, his back straight and regal, kind caring eyes looking over her in concern. Chole couldn’t quite comprehend how much he looked like Carapace. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered, voice and clear despite the rain and the noise of the city as he carefully looked her over. 

He sounded like Carpace too. Chole had to look away, a strange feeling of wrongness making her feel slightly nauseous. It was as if she'd looked at the sun without any sunglasses ,or gone scuba diving without oxygen. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She muttered walking ahead of him so she had an excuse to not look directly at him anymore. She was hyperware of his footsteps following behind her, the hurried splashing as he took two or three strides to be in insync with her once again. 

She had acknowledged to herself that they were in fact the same person before, but this was a new level of comprehension. It felt as if her brain was protesting the knowledge she now knew, it was if it wanted to banish the information from her brain and separate the two once more, but she couldn’t anymore. The two were swirling and mixing in front of her eyes, melding into one. I need to sit down she thought. She was getting a headache. 

“Coffee?” She suggested, coming out more as a command than a question.

[abiiors]

thinking about bbf!george on the first day of the year 🫶🏻💕

oh i'm so glad you're thinking about him haha. he's a sweetie and i miss him a lot so maybe a little new years blurb if you're up for it??? 👀

in an alternate world where everything is okay with matty, everything is fucking great actually, i think george whisks you off to somewhere warmer for the new year.

he's been planning this for a bit now--he started as soon as he got his first big cheque and presented you with two tickets to tenerife as your (second) christmas gift. watching you open it with a huge grin on your face is enough for him but he's even more excited when three days later you stand outside his apartment with your packed suitcases, waiting for him to tie his shoelaces so you can finally set off for the airport.

he loves how you can't stop bouncing on the balls of your feet and grinning with excitement every five minutes, how you cuddle into him to get some warmth back into your body and how your breath comes out in cold puffs as you make your way inside the airport.

george is absolutely over the moon that everything has worked out perfectly so far. and it even continues to do so--the flight is great, you find your hotel without getting lost, you check in with zero difficulties. and now here you are--flopped onto the cosy bed making plans for the day.

he can tell you're dying to go down to the beach (which starts right as the hotel property ends). from your window, it all looks so lively and happy and warm.

"should we get changed and go out?" he asks and you nod, crouching down to get your swimsuit out from your suitcase.

he lets you do your own thing for a bit while he gets changed into his swimming trunks and looks for some nice restaurants on his phone but when george sees you walk out the bathroom, cute yellow swimsuit on and your hair tied up with a claw-clip, his heart almost stops in his chest.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you ask, barely stifling a smile and a flush that's about to take over your entire body.

he's on the bed in his swimming trunks. just that and nothing else.

his tattoos gleam in the sunlight coming in through the window and he looks almost unreal, especially when he stands up and walks towards you, smirking, fully aware of how it flusters you to see him like this.

"like what?" he asks and stops in front of you.

"like you don't intend on letting us leave this room any time soon."

a giggle slips out of you and suddenly he's lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. your ass is up in the air, right in front of him and of course, he takes that chance to smack it making you squeal and laugh.

"maybe i don't," he teases and the next thing you know is your back pressed against the mattress and his chest pressed against yours.

his mouth roams over your skin, kisses pressed onto your neck and down your chest, until his face is right between your tits and george looks up.

"do you want me to stop, sweetheart?"

his pupils dilate, fingers digging slightly into your skin. you can feel the way his body shakes with barely restrained control, the hardness of his muscles against the soft curves of your body and you shiver in delight.

"didn't say that now, did i?"

"mmm, no you didn't" he laughs in between kisses and captures your mouth in his. sweet at first and then a bit more urgent. still, it's lazy and languid and cosy.

the sun streaming in from the windows warms your skin and his movements make your blood heat up with desire. his heart beats so loud, the sound is all around you--grounding and calming and peaceful. and you feel his smile against your lips too, the gentleness of his hands against your skin.

it's only day one of your trip, you realise. you still have an entire week full of warmth and sunshine and george. an entire week full if utter fucking bliss.

[gffa]

11, 12, 18 for the choose violence asks? (for the fandom of your choice 👀)

I'll choose Star Wars since that's where we both tend to reside. 💖 11. number of fandom-related words you’ve filtered I haven't filtered any fandom-related terms! Part of this is straight up laziness, but part of it is that I use it as a reminder to keep myself from absolutely having to purge any mention of a thing I don't like, to keep me in the practice of learning to scroll. (I have filtered out some AO3 terms with AO3dar, like position preferences or certain tropes I don't like, because I want to go faster when I'm looking for fic.) 12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them REVA SEVANDER. While I'm lucky to have gotten in with a group of people who enjoy her character, I do wish more of mainstream fandom had come to love her the way I do, both as a character with her own motivations, but also a character in the theme of characters who provide absolutely stellar foils to Anakin Skywalker's character. They're both full of so much pain and want to carve away the parts of themselves that were once Jedi so that they can immerse themselves fully in the dark side, but they diverge in that Reva can't bring herself to kill an innocent child, not even to get revenge on Vader, she can't kill Luke Skywalker to hurt Anakin Skywalker, even though he killed her family, her friends, when they were children, just ooouuggghhhh that hurt to watch. Also, I fully believe with my BODY AND SOUL that she should have been Obi-Wan's second Padawan. 18. it’s absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on… HOW THE FORCE WORKS and how that influences the worldbuilding, that it's not just a mystical energy field that you can tap into whenever you want--it has rules and laws to how it works. The Force is based on the emotions you feel when you connect to it, that the Force responds to the feelings in your heart, that if you're angry, you get that flung back in your face--how does that influence a culture that lives so deeply in tune with the Force? If you can feel the anger soaking into the walls through the Force, how does that change your behaviors (so you're not leaving more anger in the walls and floors around you) and how you train your children, so they have the tools to deal with that? How does it affect which places you go to, like do Jedi avoid medbays because they're full of the suffering of sick and wounded people and that's an assault on their minds, when they're sick and wounded, too? I want so much Lucas-philosophy-based Force explorationnnnnnn.

[certified-bi]

So I was on the plane back and I took a chance on Late Night With The Devil. Now I watched it blind so I didn't know about the controversy and I'll have thoughts about that at the end. But the movie left me with some thoughts.

One the intro sets up the fact that this is clearly a retrospective and we as the audience are expected to know what happened after. Think the OJ trial level of sensationalism, which makes me believe the theory that Jack probably had trial live on the air. In the universe this is a well known case. The Gus scene with the worms raises some interesting questions about what the in universe live TV audience saw. Like the movie starts with a documentary feel and ends with what's clearly Wriggles/Abracadabra messing with Jack. Like did the documentary have a second half with like the aftermath and commentary? I would imagine so given the intro, so did the demon hijack what we saw? Was it just poor writing? I would love a follow up series of in-universe videos in different styles. Like maybe some YouTube coverage, what news casters were saying, etc. I do think that the ending should have called back to the documentary set up because I don't hate the intro as world building, but it would have worked better for me if they had a "come back for part two," "Stay tuned for our experts" or smth. As it stands it's easy to call lazy exposition.

The movie is clearly tackling a lot of the insidious nature of the show biz world both the TV/Movie side and the more respected but ultimately similar book world. Everyone in the movie is being exploited, and aside from Lilly, they willingly exploit others. They're all cogs in a machine they have no control over, but clearly have no desire to stop the machine, or are easy to push back into place. I think there's a reason we don't meet any of the characters that quit and it's because they're not the point. It's way more compelling to get Phil who clearly is just doing his job, but is also unwilling to stop and consider if maybe he should be doing it at all. The makeup lady(Sammy maybe?) who sees how fucked everything is and just jokes about it. All of the characters know on some level it's wrong to allow what's happening but none are willing to stand up alone or even with their peers.

It doesn't matter how much of a fraud Christou is either. Was he a medium with actual skills who compromised on his morals to get ahead? Was he a fraud from the start who was used as a toy to get attention by Wriggles? Does it matter where on the scale he falls? It all comes to the same place. And that's the tragedy of it. The adults all made the choice to sell themselves, but Lilly was groomed for the cult and then for June's ambitions. I won't pretend to know exactly what would have been best for her given demons are real in that universe and so regular therapy could have been more disastrous, but like... June being her doctor, weird demon wrangler, and guardian was fucked up.

I don't think Jack knew what his deal was, at least not fully, and he's definitely being yanked around. The only Maddie who is for sure not a demon is the clips from before her death. After I'm not willing to say it's her. It's either Wriggles pushing her spirit around or straight up impersonating her. While the ending death montage felt rushed I don't think that's necessary a con. We feel unbalanced just like Jack does. The whole sequence of him going through his past moments was good.

Also the Grove and satanic panic were well incorporated. Like as someone with passing awareness of the references, it still all read really easily, and I'm sure for those more familiar with what was being referenced there's a lot there.

Overall I think it needed a bit more.. finishing if that makes sense? Like it feels like one or two steps away from complete. And now I'm going to get into the AI(which I hate calling it so I'm going to call it what it is which is image generation nothing intelligent about the digital equivalent of tracing and copying) images and my thoughts. I didn't notice but that doesn't really say much given the guy in front of me on the plane kept shoving his seat into my knee and the lady on my right kept bitching at the poor attendant. I don't think they have any excuse for the images being in the final cut for a few reasons, 1) image generation programs had been called out for being trained on stolen art before it released fully and they could have gotten it replaced, and they chose not to and 2) they didn't even have the excuse of not knowing better because while the images could have been pre debates they weren't locked into a contract.

To the point of "Well don't disrespect all the work put in by the actual artist they're only there for like a combined 30 seconds" 1) I don't fucking care, 2) the disrespect to the actors and other real artists is the decision makers on the film not pulling the images. They are the ones saying the work is comparable and belongs in the same film, and 3) I don't fucking care how indie they are, either pay for the work or don't use it. If you can't afford to pay an artist to draw for you, then you don't get the art. Using a cheap program(that's cheap because it steals) to replace real workers(some of whom are the same artist being stolen from) is scummy. If you can't afford to pay for labor then you can't afford to be in business.