#i've watched this already but i still feel like i need context

[demilypyro]

So I've seen a few too many people on twitter talking about The Kiss Scene from the new Scott Pilgrim anime. People saying it's fetishistic and indulgent, people calling it male gazey, etc. And while the kiss itself is certainly a bit exaggerated, I felt like writing a bit about why I disagree, and why context is important, like it always is. But it basically turned into an extended analysis on the metatextual treatment of Roxie Richter. So bear with me. It's a long post.

What really matters about this scene is not the kiss itself, but what precedes it. Not even just the fight scene just before it, but what precedes the whole anime series, really. And that's the Scott Pilgrim comic book, and the live action movie. Because in both, Roxie is a punchline.

She's a joke. Her character starts and ends with "one of the exes is actually a girl, I bet you didn't expect that." Jokes are made about Ramona's latent bisexuality, the movie especially treating it as funny and absurd, and her validity as a romantic interest is entirely written off by Ramona as being "just a phase." There's a fight scene, she's defeated by a man giving her an orgasm which implicitly calls her sexuality into question (come on), and the movie just moves on. It sucks. It really, really sucks.

The comic fares a little better. It never veers into outright homophobia like the movie does, and while the line about Ramona having gone through a phase remains, Roxie actually gets one over on Scott when Ramona briefly gets back with Roxie. But Roxie is still only barely a character. Like all the other evil exes, she's just a stepping stone towards the male protagonist's development. She barely even gets any screentime before she's defeated by Scott's "power of love." But Roxie stands out, since she's the only villain who is queer, or at least had been confirmed queer at that point (hi Todd). In a series that champions multiple gay men in the supporting cast, the single undeniable lesbian in the story is a villain. She's labeled as evil, made fun of, pushed aside in favor of the men, and then discarded. Her screentime was never about her, or her feelings for Ramona. It was about the straight, male protagonist needing to overcome her. And that was Roxie Richter. An unfortunate victim of the 2010s.

Fast forward to current year, and the new anime series is announced. Everybody sits down to watch the new series expecting another retelling of the same story, and.... hang on, that straight male protagonist I mentioned just died in the first episode. And now it's humanizing the villains from the original story. And there's Roxie, introduced alongside the other evil exes in the second episode, and she's being played entirely straight, without a punchline in sight. No jokes are made about her gender, no questions are made of her validity as one of Ramona's romantic interests. The narrative considers her important. In one episode, she already gets more respect than she did in either of the previous iterations of Scott Pilgrim. And this isn't even her focus episode yet... which happens to be the very next one.

The anime series goes to great lengths to flesh out the original story's villains and to have Ramona reconcile with them. And I don't think it's a coincidence that Roxie gets to go first. While Matthew Patel gets his development in episode 2, Roxie is the first to directly confront Ramona, now our main protagonist. This is notable too because it's the only time the exes are encountered out of order. Roxie is supposed to be number 4, but she's first in line, and later on you realize that she's the only one who's out of sequence. She's the one who sets the precedent for the villains being redeemed. She's the most important character for Ramona to reconcile with.

What follows is probably the most extensive, elaborate 1 on 1 fight scene in the whole show. Roxie fights like a wounded animal, her motions are desperate and pained. Ramona can only barely fight back against her onslaught. Different set-pieces fly by at breakneck speed as Roxie relentlessly lays her feelings at Ramona's feet through her attacks and her distraught shouts. And unlike the comic or the movie, Ramona acknowledges them, and sincerely apologizes. And the two end up just laying there, exhausted, reminiscing about when they were together.

Only after this, after all of this, does the kiss scene happen. Roxie has been vindicated, she has reconciled with the person who hurt her, the narrative has deemed that her anger is justified and has redeemed her character. And she gets her victory lap by making the nearest other hot girl question her heterosexuality, sharing a sloppy kiss with her as the music triumphantly crescendos.

It's... a little self-congratulatory, honestly. But it's good. It's redemption for a character who had been mistreated for over a decade. And she punctuates the moment by being very, very gay where everyone can see it, no men anywhere in sight. Because this is her moment. And then she leaves the plot, on her own accord this time, while humming the hampster dance. What a legend. How could anything be wrong with this.

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

I know plenty of people have already made a version of the "Jinx is alive" theory post but I've also seen so many of you mourn her death that I decided to gather all the evidence and make another post, turning this theory into a fact.

Because Jinx is alive. It's not a speculation. It's literally there.

The first thing I'm going to mention are the context clues Jinx gives herself. First, the last thing the ghost of Silco tells her. I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away. Then, the realization she comes to when Vi hugs her in the cell. You're never gonna give up on me, are you? What she tells Vi after she leaves her in that cell. You don't need to worry about me anymore. [...] And yes, her initial plan is to kill herself, because she thinks the only way for Vi to move on is for her to be gone. And Ekko gets there just in time to stop her but it looks like he doesn't convince her to abandon her plan, just change it.

And later, when she joins Vi in the final fight. What does she tell her? Still don't get it, huh, sis? I'm always with you. Even when we're worlds apart.

Everything that happens after is constructed specifically to let us and Vi believe that Jinx died. Until we get to this scene:

Caitlyn is studying the Hexgates designs.

She's looking through the pages depicting the place where the final fight happened, specifically focusing on the air vent shafts, while toying with a monkey bomb head - the same monkey bomb that Jinx used in her supposed last monents.

She looks down at the monkey...

Watch the eyes. The realization hits her...

And she smirks, knowing. Jinx used one of the air vents to escape before the explosion.

I've studied the explosion frame by frame. First, a small yellow explosion goes off - Jinx sets off the monkey bomb.

As it becomes bigger, she shoots out of there

this is still the beginning of the blast when we can still see her, and the big boom that destroys everything starts 10 frames later

Last context clue is a reference to the very first episode, which is clearly depicted in this gifset here, so instead of explaining, I'll just send you there to check for yourselves.

One thing that is speculation here is, how exactly did Caitlyn come into possession of the monkey bomb head? I doubt she found it there because it would have been turned to dust. And I'm thinking, Jinx took it with her and left it for Cait to find as a clue. She didn't want Vi to know but maybe she wanted Cait to figure it out. I imagine her sneaking into her house and maybe leaving it somewhere for Cait to find, like her desk or something. It gives Cait an idea, a gut feeling she needs to check, and that allows her to figure it out. Just like we are supposed to figure it out on our own.

Bottom line, Jinx is alive. She escaped the explosion through the air vents, then boarded the airship and left the city, convinced that the only way to give her sister a happy ending is to take herself out of the equation. The glitching closing shot saying The End in Jinx's colorful handwriting is a sign that she is telling us that this is where this story ends, like she's saying "don't look for me. It's over." That's also probably why we aren't shown what Caitlyn does with the information she now possesses.

I hope this helps take away from the grief 💙

[ozzgin]

OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

[bekolxeram]

I'm usually very block happy, but sometimes a couple of hot takes from the opposite side of the fandom manage to slip through. I'm no saint, I admit I do get quite worked up at first, but after some time, I realize they give me new perspectives to scenes I've watched countless times and discover things I didn't pick up before. So this one is for all of you, staunch Tommy haters, thank you for enriching my viewing experience.

In 7x04, when Tommy goes to Buck's loft to talk things out, this line gives some people the ick, because it echoes what Taylor said in 5x05. In that episode, Buck thought his team was off because they blamed him for Chimney leaving. He talked to Taylor about it, she shared her own experience with her boss being sulky around her, and it turned out her boss was just in a lot of physical pain, she ended the conversation with "maybe not everything is about you". While what she said was absolutely right, and she made an effort to make Buck feel appreciated at the end of the episode, but I can also see Buck not feeling supported emotionally at the time the conversation occurred. In a fashion true to her profession, Taylor delivered it in a very blunt, direct and advisory way. Her being right did not cancel out Buck feeling insecure about everyone acting weird around him and him not knowing why.

What Tommy says here though, is in a a completely different context.

Before all of this, Tommy has already reassured Buck that he's not trying to replace him, that his place in Eddie and Christopher's life is irreplaceable.

Look at Buck's smile, he's apparently in a better mood than before. It's like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

So going in this next part, Buck is more receptive to what he frankly needs to hear: Eddie isn't hanging out with Tommy because Buck did something wrong, he just enjoys Tommy's company.

We've witnessed Buck's growth over 7 seasons, now he can recognize that getting jealous easily is one of his character flaws, he tends to overthink and make other's action personal when he's feeling insecure in a relationship. He's telling Tommy this probably to signal that he understands he messed up and he understands what he did wrong. He never expected Tommy to validate his feelings.

But Tommy does empathize with his predicament.

Buck doesn't understand what Tommy, the cool, confident (and hot) pilot would be jealous over. And he almost can't believe Tommy gets what he's been feeling.

Tommy tells Buck that he's envious of the ride-or-die familial bonds within the 118 nowadays, as if he didn't also put his career and life in danger just to save Athena and Bobby (probably Hen's career as well), after one phone call from Chimney.

Now it's Buck's turn to reassure Tommy.

Another hot take I've seen from the other side goes like "if Tommy was nicer to Hen and Chimney back in the days, he wouldn't have to be jealous over what the 118 has now". You know what? Judging by Tommy's face here, he probably would agree. This is not the face of a man who is proud of what he did. This is the face of a man who is burdened by guilt and regret, this is a man haunted by his past, this is a man who doesn't think he deserves the praise.

Buck even cites fake mouth static as an example of Tommy's effort in aiding the 118's clandestine rescue mission, and they naturally fall into a flirty dynamic. I have no explanation for that, except, your honor, this is exhibit A against the "no chemistry" allegation.

Buck then spells it all out for Tommy that he also put everything on the line just for the 118, without hesitation. Tommy looks like he still has a hard time accepting it as an act worthy of redemption for his past behavior.

We've all made mistakes, and we all know we can't go back to the past and change what we did, so the best way forward is to change ourselves and be better. Judging by Tommy's "and [Gerrard] didn't make me a better person" line in 7x10, he quite possibly reflected on this a lot. Yet, sometimes you still can't help but doubt yourself over if you've learned enough from your past, if you're a good enough person now. I can't imagine how good it feels hearing Buck say out loud that he actually likes the person Tommy is now.

Apparently Buck likes Tommy so much that he came up with excuses just to hang out with him and get to know him.

Tommy is pleasantly surprised, because he did tell Buck to call him when he wants to go up. In fact, Buck can call him for whatever reason, Tommy accepted the Harbor tour request, there's nothing indicating that he would feel weird just hanging out with Buck. Tommy just doesn't know how much of a overthinker and bi disaster Buck truly is yet, but that's the story for another time.

Buck and Tommy really don't know much, if anything, about each other at this stage, as you can see in 7x05, but they're already validating each other's feelings. We've seen Buck get his feelings ignored, hurt, dismissed and kind of fetishized for 6 seasons, now this is something he's been looking for the whole time, for someone to understand what he's going through. At the same time, this interaction must also be quite freeing for Tommy, who's been haunted by demons from his own past.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

But... We Lost...

SUMMARY: After many games, you went to see another NRC basketball game. And this was very important. The finals! Against RSA! You, along with the other students, are there, cheering them on. But... the villains always lose in the end... They were all so angry and you went to comfort your crush.

CHARACTERS: Basketball Club 🏀 (Ace, Floyd & Jamil)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader, Kiss, Comfort

WORD COUNT: An average of 560 words per character.

COMMENTS: If you're interested, I've also written a version where the reader is already in a relationship with one of them and appears in the game dressed in cheerleading attire. It was a request.

👉 Cheering for Him

I hope you enjoy 😉

CONTEXT: After many games, you went to see another NRC basketball game. And this was very important. The finals! Against Royal Sword Academy! You, along with the other students, are there, cheering them on. The game was extremely close. Everyone could feel the tension and anxiety in the air. And in the final moment, with our hearts in our hands, and like in any D. movie... the villains lose.

You saw Ace suffering during the game. He wanted to win so badly. After all, it was the final and you were watching. And worse, rooting for him.

As soon as they lost, he turned his back on the audience where you were. And you saw him put his hands on his head and wave his arms in frustration. You see him walk angrily towards the players' entrance/exit. Then you see Jamil stopping him and talking to him. Then the two return to the field. Each shaken in their own way. They already lost, the school couldn't afford a reputation of being bad-losers too.

After the players have retired to the changing rooms, you went outside. You go to a place where you knew the players would pass by.

It was already dark, but you still managed to see him leave alone, without his basketball clothes on and his sports bag hanging over his shoulder. He seems to have seen you from afar too, but then he looked away as if he hadn't seen you and started walking another path, as if he were avoiding you.

You run to him and reach him in a place where the two of you are completely alone. You call his name, he stops

"What?" he says as he turns sharply back to you. “We lost. I know. I don't need your pity, kay?”

You say you don't feel sorry for him. That you're also upset that they lost. That your school lost. But just as you don't feel sorry for them, you don't blame them either. You saw how he and the others were doing their best. How important this game was. And that's why, as his friend, you just want to support him. Maybe even share your frustrations.

“Thanks. But I'm fine. I just want to go to my dorm. Kay?” He tells you. You say that you understand and that if he wanted you could talk tomorrow, or not. just hang out maybe?

He turns and starts walking again, walking away from you. Until he slows down and stops again. He turns around and sees that you didn't go anywhere, that you just stood there. He sighs and walks back to you.

He doesn't say anything, just drops the bag on the floor as he walks over and hugs you. “I'm sorry.” he says in a slightly pouty voice. “I didn't want you to see me lose.” You tell him that it doesn't matter, that you've seen him win so many times. And, mainly, that you've already seen him score and point at you as if he dedicated that to you. And as you showed how happy you were whenever he did that, you heard him mumble something like he was flattered by that.

“Dummy” You hear him murmur. You reply with "You too" and say NRC is going to kick RSA’s butts next time, both with hope and with a little desire for revenge in your voice.

And while you show this slight resentment towards RSA, he pulls away a little and kisses you. Like a thank you for being by my side kiss.

To make matters worse, Floyd had been kicked out of the game earlier. He was getting so frustrated that they were losing the game that he ended up committing several fouls. And as soon as he saw that NRC had lost, he simply left the field.

Jamil sees him leaving and no one having the courage to stop him. Then he seems to look for someone in the audience and you realize he was looking for you when he spots you and starts running towards you. He perches on the bars and asks you to come closer to him.

He asks you to see if you can calm Floyd down, because they still need to do that thing of saying goodbye to the opponents saying it was a good game. They already lost, the school couldn't afford a reputation of being bad-losers too. And he tells you to look for him on the terrace.

You hurriedly leave and go to the terrace. You find Floyd lying on the floor with his hands behind his head, looking up at the dark sky. You walk calmly until your feet are behind his head. He doesn't move. As if you didn't bother him in the slightest.

“Floyd?” you say cautiously “hum... they still need you to finish the game. You know, the... hum... Good Game thing.”

“I don't want to.” he replied in a monotone.

“I know.” You sigh and kneel down next to him. “Is there anything I can do? You just need to say goodbye to the other players and then you can leave.”

“You can stop annoying me.” he gives you one of those serious, scary looks of his before turning around with his back to you.

You remain silent for a moment, thinking carefully about what to say and what words to use. “How about a deal? I'll leave you alone if you go back and close the game.”

“That's not what I want.” He says, still facing away from you.

“Then, what do you want?”

He lifts his torso and sits down “I wanted to win!” he turns back to you, with his scary face, taller than you. “I wish I had stayed until the end of the game. And I wanted you to see me finish RSA off. If I go back down there, I'm going to squeeze them one by one. Is that what you want?”

You explode saying you just want him to get it over with. You just want him to end that game, vent his frustrations as he sees fit later, and preferably with people other than RSA students. And that you just want to be able to know how to help him. Sometimes it's frustrating just wanting to help him, but having to walk on eggshells to avoid the risk of unintentionally irritating him.

He sees you getting all upset with him in silence and kind of surprised. And that makes him... laugh? And... hug you? “I like seeing you this upset. It's kinda cute.” and then he whispers in your ear: “and hot~” He breaks the hug, and you're all flattered, which makes him laugh again.

“HA HA HA! Well, you did it. I'm back in the good mood. I will end this game. But I want to see you later, do you hear?” He kisses you. And before getting up he says, with your faces very close to each other, and a big smirk on his face: "You better be waiting for me when I get out, Koebi-chan~”

Jamil is not the type to show his feelings a lot. Especially in these situations, he will hide them perfectly. Then you see him acting like everything is fine. You see him calming down some of his teammates like Ace and Floyd and ending the game with good terms with RSA.

Or at least that's what it appears. Keeping his feelings to himself the way he does, especially these kinds of feelings, is not good for him. That's why you are a little worried.

You wait for him at the exit. It's already night, but you see him leaving alone. He has his hood on, but you'd recognize him no matter what. You run to him and call him. He looks up at you, almost surprised.

“Hi, (Y/N).” he had that light, polite smile he wears regularly. “I hope I didn't disappoint you too much with our defeat. I'm sorry.”

You say you're not disappointed. Of course you're upset that they lost, but not because of them. It happens. But, knowing Jamil, he's probably more upset than you. So you ask him to go with you to a more secluded place. You say you know he's upset and he's just hiding it like he always does. And remembering that Kalim will most likely talk to him about the game when he returns to Scarabia, perhaps it would be better to release his frustrations now.

He remains silent for a moment, as if trying to find a way to say that everything was okay. But you're right. And he trusts you. So, little by little, he explodes.

He starts by saying that of course he is upset, they lost, and worse, against RSA. Then he starts to compare the training they had, how tough they were, compared to what he knew the RSA training was like, as if they were training for a children's game and still won. But the worst of all was when he had to say goodbye to them and the RSA team captain said that "he was glad everyone had fun. After all, the important thing is not winning, but team spirit and bla bla bla..." Do you have any idea how difficult it was to calm down the other NRC players? Make sure Floyd didn't break anyone's bones? Jamil almost punched the wall while venting.

You didn't interfere while he vented, you just listened to him. When he finishes and begins to calm down by taking deep breaths, you speak again. You say that you are also upset, that you really wanted them to win because you saw them playing and they deserved to win. You are frustrated along with them. And then you ask if Jamil feels a little better.

He takes a deep breath "Yes. I'm sorry you saw this, but you were the one who asked." His back was to you. And you say you don't regret it. You never regret it when he's real with you, even if it's showing how frustrated he is.

He turns to you. “Well, in that case, you don't deserve to only see my true side when I'm angry.” There was a smirk on his lips, but his eyes were more tender. He gets closer to you and gently holds you by the waist. He kisses your cheek. “Thank you, I needed that.” And if you allow it, he will kiss your lips afterwards.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[wholoveseggs]

Hii I was wondering if u can make an elijah fluff. Like context hes been married for like 1000+ years and he still gets nervous around reader

Dinner can wait.

{Masterlist}

Elijah is nervous about you returning home after a trip, so he cooks dinner to calm himself.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request anon ~ I love domestic Elijah, I could write a million stories on this subject ♡♡~

2k words - Warnings: None, just fluff!

Elijah moved with assured grace around the kitchen, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his dark hair falling softly across his face as he carefully arranged his ingredients. There was something soothing about cooking, and tonight it was something that he really needed. He glanced up at the clock and sighed, wondering if he had enough time to prepare his special sauce, or if he should just use his normal béarnaise. He decided that he wanted to use the special sauce tonight and reached for a saucepan. As he started to slowly melt his butter, he heard the front door open. A smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he heard the familiar footsteps of his sister enter the kitchen.

"What's for dinner tonight, brother?" Rebekah asked, opening the fridge and reaching in to grab one of his bottles of wine.

"Coq au vin, but unfortunately, Rebekah, it's for two, not three," he said, looking pointedly at the wine bottle she had taken out.

"That's okay," she replied, "I'll just help myself to your wine."

She winked at him and poured herself a generous glass, then pulled out a chair and sat down at the counter to watch him.

"So she's coming back today?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, adding the chopped onions and mushrooms to the pan. "Her plane arrives at seven thirty."

"Do you need me to pick her up?"

"No, thank you," he said. "I've already arranged a driver."

"And have you thought about how you're going to greet her?"

Elijah frowned at her, not liking the look of amusement on her face. "What do you mean? I'll greet her in the same way I've greeted her for the last ten centuries."

Rebekah laughed and sipped her wine. "I think that's the problem, brother," she teased.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, his knife hitting the chopping board with a little more force than necessary.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," she said. "Every time your wife returns home after being away for any period of time, you go out of your way to impress her. You cook, you clean, you buy her flowers and gifts, and when you greet her, you are always so polite and gentlemanly, almost as if it's a first date.”

"So?"

"So, Elijah," she said, smiling affectionately at him, "don't you think it's time you stopped trying to impress her and just showed her how much you love her."

Elijah sighed and rubbed his hand across his brow. "I don't think I know any other way," he admitted.

"Then learn another way," she replied, draining her glass and standing up. "I've got a date so I won't be home for dinner, but I expect to see you both tomorrow."

"Fine," he said. "Thank you for your... help."

She laughed and kissed him on the cheek, then grabbed her bag and left.

He watched her go and then looked down at the half-chopped ingredients in front of him. He had always enjoyed cooking for his wife, but this time was different. This time his hands were shaking as he lifted the knife, and his stomach was fluttering. 

Why was he nervous? It was his beautiful wife. His sweet and gentle y/n. The love of his long life. 

They had been married for one thousand years, but his feelings towards her had never changed. She was still the girl from the village who had captured his heart when they were children. The girl he had courted and then married, and who had stood by his side when he had become a vampire and all the challenges that it had brought. He sighed and started preparing the rest of his ingredients. Maybe Rebekah was right, and it was time for him to try a new approach.

When you stepped out of the airport and took your first breath of fresh air, you felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You were so close to seeing your husband, and it made your heart flutter. You looked around and smiled when you saw a tall man with dark hair and eyes waiting patiently for you, holding a sign with your name on it.

"Hello," you said, "I'm y/n."

"Good evening, ma'am," he said politely. "My name is Joshua, and I will be driving you home tonight."

"Thank you, Joshua," you replied. "Can we get going? I've been away for too long."

"Certainly," he said, picking up your suitcase and walking to the car. He loaded it into the trunk and then held open the door for you.

"Where is Elijah?" you asked, getting in and settling yourself into the leather seat.

"He had a prior engagement tonight," Joshua replied, closing the door and walking around the car to get in the driver's side. "He asked me to let you know he was sorry he couldn't meet you and that he will see you when you get home."

"Oh," you said, trying to mask your disappointment. You knew your husband well, and you were certain he was lying about a prior engagement. It had happened before, and you suspected that he had arranged a welcome home surprise for you. You would have preferred he just picked you up, no surprises necessary; you simply needed his presence.

When you arrived home, there was a light burning in the kitchen, and as the car pulled up, and you opened the door, you could smell the wonderful aromas of your favorite food. Your husband was definitely here. You got out and walked towards the house, smiling at Joshua and thanking him as he carried your suitcase inside and left it at the foot of the stairs.

"Thank you, Joshua," you said, as he turned to leave.

"You're welcome, ma'am," he said, "and have a good night."

"I intend to," you replied, your lips curving into a smile as you turned and walked towards the kitchen.

As you approached the doorway, you could see Elijah's silhouette in the light, his broad shoulders and strong arms moving quickly as he finished off the meal. You paused and leaned against the doorframe, watching him.

You remembered the day you met him, and how shy and reserved he was, how nervous and uncomfortable he was around you. He was always so sweet and shy, unaware of just how beautiful he was. You remembered how his eyes would light up whenever he saw you around the village, sneaking glances at you whenever he thought you weren't looking. You remembered how happy he was when you had agreed to go for a walk with him. How he would stumble over his words and blush as he told you about his dreams and ambitions. And you remembered the day he kissed you. It was the first time either of you had ever kissed anyone, and he was so unsure of himself, his hands shaking as he held your face and his lips barely touching yours. But his lips were so soft, and the feeling of his warm skin on yours was exhilarating. You remember the day you married him and how proud he was to call you his wife. The way his eyes filled with tears as he kissed you, the way he smiled and held you so tight. His vows still clear in your mind even after a thousand years.

"My dearest wife, I will always be true to you, through everything and no matter what happens. My love will be yours until the end of time. I will always cherish and protect you. You are my everything."

Little did either of you know how long you would keep those vows; immortality had not yet come upon either of you. It was both a blessing and a curse, but with Elijah by your side, you knew you could handle whatever came your way.

You watched him now, still the same beautiful, sweet, and caring man you had fallen in love with. He was the man who had stolen your heart, and he was the one who would forever hold it. He was moving around the kitchen frantically, nervously glancing at the clock every few minutes. He was clearly making sure everything was perfect for your return. You wondered how he didn't hear you come in, but you supposed he was so lost in thought that he couldn't sense anything else. You smiled to yourself, loving him even more.

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close. He froze, and you could feel his heart pounding against your cheek.

"Hello, my darling," you said softly, kissing his shoulder blade.

He let out a long sigh and relaxed in your arms, his hands covering yours. "Hello," he whispered.

"Mmm, something smells delicious," you murmured.

"It's coq au vin," he replied.

"My favorite," you said. "I'm impressed, you must have put a lot of effort into tonight's dinner."

"I wanted it to be perfect," he said quietly.

"Why?"

He turned around and placed his hands on your cheeks, stroking his thumbs over your skin, his brown eyes were warm and full of emotion. To you he still looked like a the nervous teenager who gathered all his courage just to talk to you.

"Because," he said softly, leaning down to brush his lips against yours, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss you again.

His lips were soft and warm, his kiss slow and tender. You felt his hands slide into your hair and tug gently, his tongue slipping between your parted lips.

"Elijah," you murmured.

"Hmmm," he mumbled, kissing his way down your throat.

"Something is burning," you said.

He immediately pulled back, his eyes wide as he looked over his shoulder. The sauce was smoking, and he quickly reached for the pan and removed it from the heat, turning the stove off.

You watched as he ran his fingers through his hair, his jaw clenching in frustration.

"I'm sorry, it's ruined," he said. "I just..."

"It's okay," you said, taking his hand and leading him out of the kitchen.

"But what about dinner?" he asked.

"Dinner can wait," you said, "or we can order take-out. All I really want right now is my husband."

You smiled and he grinned back at you, his earlier nervousness forgotten. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you, lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

"I love you, my beautiful wife," he whispered, laying you on the bed and climbing on top of you.

"I love you, sweet husband," you replied.

He kissed you again and then proceeded to show you just how much he had missed you.

[ballerinarina]

𐙚LET'S TALK ABOUT... DIEGO, LILA & FIVE

Okay, firstly I need to state that I'm going to say my impressions about the season four of The Umbrella Academy, focusing on the subway plotline. My considerations are very long (I'm talkative!) and about what I watched in the episodes and what I read on social media, so, I am totally open to opinions too!!

As an hyperfocused girl, I've been thinking about the subway arc plot decision during an absurd amout of time. I watched it a few times and read a lot of opinions. Yet, I still feel a little... surprised (?) by the intense hate over it.

It's not about liking or disliking the new couple that I'm talking about. Since naturally people would prefer one ship over another, it was obviously waited that the opinions would be divided.

I just... can't understand why people hated it so much as if it was a bad plot decision. Diego and Lila are beautiful together, i agree! They have a long, real and strong love story together. But why people are acting like this new plotline erased all their relationship together? Relationships are more complex than that.

Feelings are more complex than that. Humans are.

Actually, I may say that the psychological development that happens in the subway is way more interesting because Lila and Diego love each other, as much as Five loves Diego too.

This being said, I don't mean that I think a cheating plotline is interesting because of the cheating. I actually use to dislike it a lot. However, dealing with cheating in a black-and-white way as if it's an indefendible action is not clever. Sometimes, some things I read make me realize that people are so stuck into traditional morals that their capacity of thinking and analyzing complex emotional situations is kind of... damaged.

𝐒𝐨... 𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐚 𝐗 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐚 𝐗 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞?

The Umbrella Academy is known as a series with very human and complex characters. That's what makes it so good, from the beginning! That's why I think it's kind of sad to judge their relationship with a typical moral view.

Claiming that Lila didn't deserve Diego, for example is so... so sad. She was an amazing mother and wife. She tried to go back to them for six years and as soon as she could she went back! Not even thinking twice! She loves Diego, of course she does!

Loving Five doesn't make her love for Diego less strong.

I really don't think Lila X Five is just neediness, however, no way. They already spent two seasons constructing a beautiful (friend) relationship before and in this horrible context they spent a lot of time taking care of each other, being each other's support. Considering this and their communication development — jokes on season 3, kindness in the beginning of season 4 — it's not surprising or nonsense that it turned to become romantic. People and relationships change, love is built and adapted.

I don't think Lila stopped loving Diego (i mean romantically, but even if she did, she surely didn't in other ways of loving that are as beautiful as it is) but that doesn't make her love for Five false, and Five loving and having a relationship with her doesn't make him a bad brother either. That's why I emphasized that TUA is a series with complex relationships. Why do you get upset and surprised when another relationship between complicated characters is built due to the tragedies of the script?

If this didn't cause outrage before, could it cause because, this time, when things get complicated, the plot resource used questions the standard romantic drama format expected by the system?

𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭? 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫?

I guess one of the main arguments I saw was that their relationship didn't make any sense and that their scenes were extremely out of character, but I don't think it could be sustained when they both are characters who go through a lot that makes them change, alone or together. What they're claiming being out of character may simply be character development under non-ideal circumstances.

It seems like there's an strong resistance to open their minds while watching and realize that love isn't something that can only happen once and/or once at a time and under ideal situations. Diego and Lila's marriage crisis, Five and Lila developing ther friendship inbetween work cumplicity, Five looking more lost and tired in his decisions than before, the fact that it is the second time he has been trapped in space-time — which is a big trauma for him, since, from the first season (in the first apocalypse) we have been shown that, despite being introverted, arrogant and reserved, it is precisely "relating" that serves as a point of refuge for Five not to go crazy, lowering his guard and being kind...

All of this constructs very well their psychological coherency. "He wouldn't treat her like that during season 2 or 3!", "Lila would never be a domestic mother/ Five wouldn't work do CIA!". Well, we're talking about them now, not there.

One of the plot decisions to start this season was that the characters were living between what they kind-of-desired, but things still weren't fine, they still weren't getting what they wanted.

Five being free from the world-ending, but stll not being able to relax and live a simple retired life as he wanted. Klaus being sober and free of the ghosts, but insecure and anxious. Allison having Claire and Ray, but still unable to live a happy marriage and career. Viktor having his place working with something that makes him comfortable, but still unable to find love. Diego and Lila having a family and marriage and still unable to feel happy because the domestic work dynamic wasn't working...

Adulthood. Real life. None of those situations were out of character, as much as none of the psychological changes they suffered were too.

𝐀 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦

Since I don't really see the point on why would all of the happenings between them three could be claimed as "nonsense", even less "unasked" or "unnecessary" — because it's a work of fiction and, even if it may not be what the public wants to watch, it is not something that needs to prove its usefulness, just as events (that tie together well, because coherency matters) do not need to prove their necessity in art —, so it makes me even more sad that clearly mostly of the reactions are based on conservative views of marriage.

I know this season is not perfect, and it had a lot of defects, so I'm not saying the arc is perfect. As all the other arcs, it happened in a hurry, making us the public less abl to feel the 7 years of development. Complaining about how the arc was executed is perfectly fine, actually: after all, we know that 4 episodes were cut from the original script, as were many recorded scenes (including a big part of the subway plotline).

AIDAN: "There's a lot of the relationship with Lila that we filmes but they cut it. It took weeks to film it and they used a few minutes in a montage. That wasn't right. It also made very hard for the viewers to believe when we spent weeks filming scenes to set up that scenario."

But when I bring the conservatism theme (misoginy and remnants/consequences of the monogamous religious structure), it's because, even if we have lots of other of worse defects on other parts of the season, the biggest public overreacting opinions have been undoubtly about Five and Lila.

Anyone who spends more than 2 minutes in the comments on Twitter, Tiktok or even here knows that most of the time people've been sad and angry treating them both as if they were turned into cheaters with no morals (Five as a new kind of scroundrel asshole, Lila as some kind of ungrateful whore and I've even seen people problematizing their enemies phase, or the age difference as if one of then, or even the director, were predators, which is pure nonsense) and I can't even express how it makes me deeply melancholic.

I can't see how reacting as if the situations they were put in and their actions toward it in the scripts were absurd, terrible and dumb can't be just conservative, because they were actually very well tied script decisions, used in a bold way. With an interesting and well written enemies to frenemies to friends to lovers trope, they managed to write something fun and that developed both of the characters in their early-season-conflicts-arising-from-other-seasons.

𝐒𝐨? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐂𝐞𝐂𝐞?

I truly just... Can't understand how some people ended up having collectively such insensitive opinions about the relationship of two characters who were so... vulnerable.

Non-ironically I even saw a lot of people defending they would prefer Five to end up with a “real life Dolores” plotline (since the author felt the need of a romance) than with Lila, or that he shouldn't ever fall in love with anyone else than Dolores. It sounds so... Insane. I can't see how someone can have any kind of shipping-affection for his "sick" relationship with Dolores. It was, for me, a completely heartbroken arc.

While watching this new season, actually, it made me almost warmly happy, as a Five fan, to see him having someone to take care of him in hard times like that. Last time he didn't have it. They loved each other, they constructed this love and even if it was constructed under a refuge, extremely vulnerable situation, as much as even if it was constructed over a hopeless and trust-breaking decision towards their loved Diego, it doesn't make it less real and beautiful.

They aren't bad people. They aren't cheaters. They were desperate.

I'm happy they found love in each other. They were victims but managed to construct a beautiful relationship to survive and it doesn't make them love less Diego, as a brother or as a lover.

Of course it breaks completely my heart that Diego and Five died without making peace, but while watching not even for a moment I considered that they stopped loving each other. They're brothers, they've went through a lot.

They were doing so fine getting along together since they came back from the apocalypse.... There's no way it would "destroy" and "erase" (terms used by some fans) all the progress that's been made... I think it would be a very shallow interpretation of their relationship and a very futile interpretation of the events. Some of the public is seeing the situation as if Five slept with his wife since the beginning, not as if he had felt in love with her in a very apocaliptical and hopeless situation.

It's essential to remember that nothing said romantic happened for six years. It turned this way only after they having practically given up hope of returning home, so exhausted they were.

I really don't think that such a desperate and lonely situation would erase all the love and dedication Diego have for Five (and Five has no reasons to stop feeling it for Diego too, obviously). Diego was totally the sweetest during this season, he did his best, but Five did too... Now they fought but it doesn't mean their relationship would be forever broken. They were both stressed out, of course, it was a sensitive situation. But, i don't think it would... However with an apocalypse going on, they just didn't have enough time.

Diego was clearly open to understand Lila better, so I really doubt he wouldn't try to do the same with Five. But, again, they were both heart broken, hot headed and with no time. It's sad and it affect them, but "destroy and erase" are very heavy terms and inconsistent with the context of their relationships.

I don't know. I don't know how to conclude this analysis. I just… Am sorry. I honestly feel lucky to have been able to experience Diego, Lila and Five, but I'm so sorry that I couldn't see these three hearts find peace in their complicated loves, even during their final moments. These are three very beautiful love relationships that grew up tangled up and that, unfortunately, couldn't unfold in time to hurt less their lovers.

It felt wonderful and desolate. I hope more people can feel it like i did.

[eddiernunson]

Be Quiet | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Blurb from my long form Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader story Trapped (Go check it out if you're in the mood for a long read)

[I'm not letting the notes I've gotten in the last 24 hours get to me, I swear]

Context? Meeting Uncle Wayne for the first time then fucking off to Eddie's room.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warning: squirting, light ball worship, oral (both), riding, slut shaming, dirty talk, *parent in the next room so shut up*, teasing/begging

“I know you’re nervous but it’s gotta happen some time.”

“Like you are meeting my mom and dad?”

Eddie’s eyes bulge, forgetting you had a normal set of parents he still had to meet. “Damn. Right. Anyway. It’ll be fine.”

The door swings open without needing a key. The two of you walk in, seeing Wayne Munson perched on the couch with his legs bent and feet on the coffee table holding a beer and watching a rerun of Cheers. A cigarette in his mouth, inhaling, laughing, and coughing as Ted Danson says something rather funny.

He jumps as the door closes, apparently not hearing Eddie’s loud engine. “Oh, hey kid.” Wayne grunts, putting his feet off the table and getting up to greet his nephew. “I see you brought a friend?”

“Of sorts.” Eddie shrugs, his hand flexing in yours.

“Hello,” you greet him, your nervousness obvious in your voice as you greet him. You face him for the first time, taking in the man who you assumed is the one who raised Eddie. Wayne Munson looks like what someone would define as a blue collared man. The plaid he’s wearing, the scruff on his jeans, and the smell and tint of dirt on his skin. He has thin hair on his head, completely thinned out in the middle.

Bald. He’s bald.

He has a scruff beard, and he doesn’t look like the most approachable person in the world. However, the way this man smiled at Eddie told you everything you needed to know about him. You hold your hand to him, testing the waters. Eddie muffles a laugh, smiling over you at Wayne.

Wayne laughs silently at the extended hand, grabs it and yanks you into a hug. It startles you, but the smell of the same cologne you smell on Eddie mixed with his gruff laughter as you yelp is oddly comforting. “Oh sunshine, I found my nephew singing a pop song in the shower last Sunday morning. I think we’re way passed a handshake.”

Wayne gives you one last squeeze and lets you go. You turn back to face your boyfriend, anticipating his reaction to this.

Eddie was looking at Wayne, the face of one who was severely betrayed. “You really gotta bring up singing in the shower?”

Wayne put his hands up in surrender, laughing as he goes back to return to the couch where his beer was sat and his cigarette out from lack of use. “Hey, man. You haven’t sung like that for a couple of years. I just had to let this kid know how much she means to you. In case you haven’t gotten the message across.”

You smile already fond of his uncle. “Wait until you meet my mom” you say, attempting to make him feel better. “She has stories on stories against singing in the shower. Though I gotta know the artist.”

“Not saying shit.” Eddie states, bouncing onto his toes and back onto his heels, representing his stubbornness.

Wayne jogs lightly to you, and whispers “Madonna” right near your face and giggles as Eddie loudly protests this second act of betrayal.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see my girlfriend and my uncle teaming up against me coming. This was bound to happen with you two.” He says, sounding disappointed but there was a hint of a smile his face.

“You picked a good one, that’s why,” Wayne says, sat back on his couch and grabbing his lighter and cigarette. “Nice to meet you, sunshine.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Munson,” you reply, the feeling of Eddie’s hand grabbing yours.

“Please, Mr. Munson is my shit brother. Call me Wayne. Please.”

“Okay. Will do.” You smile, your breath taken away as Eddie tugs you straight to his room.

“Edward!” Wayne calls as you almost reach his room.

Eddie sighs and turns around to ask what he wanted.

“Either be quiet or turn some music on. I don’t want to hear anything. Capiche?” He asks, a mildly smug but mostly a tired man who did not need to hear that on his one night off this week.

“Got it.” And the door closes behind you two.

-

You land on the bed with an oof as you lie onto your back, Eddie running around his room like a headless chicken. Eddie puts on some Journey, a tape he once received as a gift and only plays as background music for more tamer things. He turns up the volume enough, but not enough to drown your voices out.

Sitting up, you give him a look with an eyebrow raised, and your core heating up from the mere indication of putting on slightly loud yet tame music. You watch Eddie as he yanks off his jacket and vest, pulling off his shirt as well. He slips his hair back half up, and finally turns to face you with a knowing smirk.

“What are you up to?” You ask as he crawls on to the bed.

“Shh. Time for kissing.” He whispers and leans in with his delicious lips.

No matter how many times you have seen the sight of Eddie leaning in to kiss you, it never gets old. You’re absolutely positive it won’t ever get old.

Eddie’s lips are on yours, leading with a confidence that grows each time. If you’re not careful he will become hella cocky in his abilities. You meet his kiss with enthusiasm, opting to open your mouth ask for permission for your tongue to enter his. He grants you permission, a dark chuckle in the back of his throat as he sharply inhales. He places a hand into your hair, his thumb caressing the skin right underneath it.

You don’t know how, but you were getting wetter from kissing him alone. You could feel an urge to start to grind, your thighs clenching tightly. Lying down on your back, Eddie follows you down, slipping one hand underneath your shirt, the contact of his hand on your waist making you whimper.

“Feeling needy, princess?” He asks, his voice light. “You want me to do something?” Eddie starts kissing your neck, his tongue teasing by barely gracing your skin.

One arm is around your torso, his body lined up against yours and propped onto his elbow. You nod your head yes as he continues his assault on your neck, starting to use his teeth.

“What do you want me to do, use your words.” He whispers against your neck, his voice nice and smooth. He feels you clench your thighs, most of your lower body tightening right up. “Oh you are very needy, my love. But you’re going to have to tell me if you want me to do something, otherwise I’ll continue to do PG rated things on your neck.”

You whimper, thinking he wouldn’t be as cruel as to only stick to over your clothes type touching for the sake of teasing you. “Please, please touch me, Eddie. I need it. I need it so bad.”

“I am touching you” he mutters pressing his hand under your shirt on your torso a little harder on your skin.

A sound comes out of you that sounds like a sob, a pathetic little noise from being riled up so much already. You know if he were to take off your pants your panties would have a nice little wet patch on them. “My pussy, Eddie please. Touch it, I’m so fucking wet.” You beg him, whimpering.

Eddie admires the way he was able to make you fall apart simply by kissing you. He has been thinking of attempting something like this with you for about as long as he could handle. Your face was already scrunched up from the teasing, whimpering from the way he was teasing you and almost denying you what you so desperately craved.

“There you go sweetheart.” Eddie sits up, you with him. He crawls down to your waist, starting on the waistband of your pants. He tugs on it, forcing you to lift your hips. He throws them across the room and gets a good look at your pretty yellow panties with the bow on it you decided to wear, nearly groaning at the sight of the darkened patch at the centre. “Look at you,” he nearly chokes on air, catching his breath at the way your hips are so easily separated and you panting, staring up at him. “Is this all for me? Just from my lips kissing yours?”

“I’ve been wanting you all day,” you mumble, embarrassed. “Been thinking about your cock in class.”

“Oh, you dirty girl,” he mutters, entirely too turned on at the idea of you sitting in class and writing notes while thinking of him bending you over a desk in a nearby empty classroom. He rewards your confession with a kiss on your thigh, causing it to shake on almost immediate contact, the lick sending pleasure shocks up your body. He looks at you, surprised at the reaction, but it only encourages him to continue.

He laps further up your thigh causing your pussy to start to clench at the very idea of being in contact with his fucking beautiful tongue. Finally, he gets to the centre, the heated core where your pussy is begging for any sort of contact. “Baby, please” You beg him. “Lick my pussy. Eat me out. Fuck please.”

Usually, Eddie is the more verbal one, but you’re starting to catch on to the fact that every time you beg or confess something he rewards you. So here, instead of teasing you over your undies like he was planning, he rips them off in a singular motion. As soon as your panties are off, he attacks your clit with his tongue, your pussy already completely covered in your slick.

“Look how wet and pretty this little pussy is,” he mutters against your clit, the vibrations sending waves up your stomach. If he continues like this, you won’t last much longer. He slips in a finger, pumping it and sucking on your clit at the same time. “How does this feel, baby?”

You were so far gone you were surprised it even registered to answer, your stomach starting to tighten in the all too familiar way. “Feels- feels so good, Ed. Keep doing that.”

Eddie sucks on your clit even harder and adds a finger. You feel fuller and a red-hot heat starts on your clit, spreading in your legs and your stomach. It felt intense, and new. There was a very small part of you that remembered Wayne was in the living room. Instead of the loud moans you wanted to let out, it ended up being choked out moans, staying in the back of your throat.

You struggling to keep quiet was like music to Eddie’s ears. The way your legs were entirely tensed up was telling him you were close. He was surprised how little he did today to get you so close to the edge, wondering how long you must’ve been revved up for. He sucks as hard as he can on your clit, adding a third finger to you.

Suddenly, you’re hit with a wave of heat, something inside you tells you to push and relax a muscle you didn’t know you had. You feel heat all over your body, focused on your pussy and thighs and you hear a gushing sound. It takes you a second to come back to earth, your heart racing and giggles forming in the back of your throat. You sit up slowly to ask him who the fuck taught him to do that cause it wasn’t you when a large wet patch underneath your ass startles you.

It didn’t even occur to you that you have squirted, you were so blissed out. Confused you look at the darkened patch on the bed and then up to Eddie’s face. It’s covered in your slick, and he looks as stunned as you were. “Holy shit I made you squirt.” He mutters, taking one thumb and running it along his face to suck on your slick.

“I-I didn’t know I could even do that.” You whisper, starting at the large wet stain on his bed.

“That was so fucking sexy, baby.” He whispers back, leaning in to kiss you.

You lean back after receiving one kiss, the taste of your pussy/cum turning you on more than you thought it would. “You don’t want to wipe your face off?”

“Are you fucking kidding me, sweetheart?” He asks, dead serious. “I’m wearing this like a fucking trophy. I, a man who has fucked a total of three times, have made my girlfriend squirt. If I can do it any guy can.”

“Not just any guy is willing to go down on a girl like that, though.” You mutter, searching his face.

Eddie rolls his eyes, pouncing on you so you lie back onto the bed. “A guy who refuses to go down on a girl is a fucking whimp. It’s one of the best acts of worship you could possibly do.”

This sentence turns you on so much that you moan softly, leaning in for another you-tasting kiss. You reach down for his pants unbuckling his jeans and belt, needing to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue as lust overtakes and overconsumes your body. “Wanna taste you, now.” You mutter, leaning away to focus on getting his pants off.

After fidgeting for too long, you maneuver him onto his back getting a better angle to blow him.

“Oh, fuck please.” Eddie mutters, a fraction of his confidence gone in the idea of your mouth around his cock.

You yank his briefs and his jeans off all at once, having teased him a bit last time. You just wanted to show him how much making you feel so damn good made you feel. You crawl up to his cock and start fisting him without any warning. Eddie lurches in your hold, his chest lifting with is legs. He really needed the release as well, it seems.

Your hand stops moving, and you lean down, gently kissing along the shaft in different spots. You go up and down several times, not wanting him to know when you were taking him in his mouth. After your third round of up and down Eddie’s hips buck up, silently asking you fucking suck on his cock already. You giggle softly and decide to take pity on him. You open your mouth and finally take him in, his cock going to the centre of your mouth.

Eddie moans softly and you feel his thighs tense. You start sucking and bobbing, getting a rhythm started. “Oh Jesus you do so fucking well with your pretty little mouth, baby.” He rambles, his mouth talking out of habit.

You hum, causing a vibration sent down. Taking your mouth off, you decide something spontaneous, and take one of his balls onto your mouth, sucking on it loudly.

Eddie jerks up in response to this, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. You feel proud of yourself for getting this reaction and you move to the next one. You bring his heavy cock back into your mouth and take him in as much as you can. You start the rhythm again, and you can feel him getting more desperate as you continue.

Eddie taps your head, asking you silently to come up to him. You wanted to continue sucking him off, but you obliged anyhow. It was proving that listening to him paid off.

“Come here.” He says when you crawl up to him. “You do so well, baby. Be a good girl and put your cock in, yeah? I wanna fuck you so bad now.”

You take off your baggy shirt, revealing you wore no bra. Your nipples were nice and hard, Eddie grabbing one of your tits as soon as he saw them. You whimper at the sensation, feeling nice and tingly. Finally, you were both naked. You move your leg over his lap, straddling him. You haven’t ridden him yet and you were fucking excited to. As you sit down, Eddie grabs his cock, lining it up with your entrance but just off. He takes his hand off his cock and you whine at the loss of the possibility of you finally being full of him. “No, no. Remember, I told you to put it in. You can do it, my little slut. Go ahead.”

You reach down between your legs to line up his cock with your entrance. Eddie looks down as the head starts to go in, moaning at the sight of your hand doing such a thing. You moan as his cock enters, both at the slight pain and the immense pleasure already pooled in your tummy again.

As the pain settles after a shorter period than last time, you go as far as you can go, not warning Eddie and making him moan loudly. “Shh.” You say, placing your hand over his mouth. “Remember.”

Eddie nods, his eyes wide, but you feel his cock twitch. You almost remove your hand when he desperately grabs it and places it back over his mouth, nodding. You smile, this being far too hot to handle. You add light pressure with your hand, and finally, you’re able to finish sinking onto his cock. “Holy fucking- holy shit.” You whisper as he moans loudly into your hand.

Slowly, you start grinding on his cock, unable to remember when the last time you rode anyone was but knowing you still had some skill regardless. He was longer than you figured, sliding up and farther than you thought you could. As you slam down onto it again Eddie rolls his eyes and is muffled as he moans in your mouth again, a strain of profanities you wish you could hear.

Soon, you find your thighs aren’t doing the job you needed them to, and you stand onto your feet in a froggy style and start bouncing on his cock. This causes a moan so loud your hand barely hid it, Eddie pussy drunk as you stare half lidded into his eyes. His cock is hitting the right spot and you can feel your self getting close as he starts assisting you, moving his hips.

Before you knew what was happening, he got impatient and grabbed your waist and turned you onto your back. You were so surprised your hand flew off his mouth. He put his hand on yours, wanting to be in control. “Now you can moan as long as you want, you little slut,” he whispers, his hand hard on your mouth but literally the hottest thing in the world. He changes from missionary and hikes your legs up so you two were in an L.

You were accidentally edged earlier, but you felt it coming just as fast again, and the way your knees bent on his chest was the dead giveaway. “Are you close, princess? Come on, cum. I wanna feel you as you moan onto my hand. Come on. Come on you slut. Come-”

Eddie got more aggressive, but it did the trick with the slut shaming doing more than you ever expected. The coil in your tummy snaps, sending waves of pleasure through your body and a white-hot flash past your eyes. You yell loudly into his hand, yelling words you weren’t sure they would make sense even if you didn’t have his hand clamped over your mouth.

As Eddie felt you come around his cock, your wet heat spasming it drew him to his orgasm faster than he was expecting. “Holy shit – Im gonna,” he stops, white hot cum shooting into your pussy, his orgasm overtaking him far faster than he expected.

His hand leaves your mouth, and he falls next to you. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” he starts to say, but you crawl into his arms and cut him off.

“Don’t care. I will need a morning after pill to make sure we don’t fuck over your uncle a second time, but I don’t care. I love the feeling of your cum in me.” You tell him honestly, leaning in for a kiss.

“I’m pretty sure I made you up,” Eddie mutters as he musters the energy to get up. He does, grabbing a towel and coming back to clean you up. “Hold on, be right back.”

Eddie gets changed into sweats and a band t shirt and runs into the trailer to get a glass of water. When he returns, he has a wet cloth as well and a shit eating grin on his face.

“What happened?” You ask, afraid to know the answer.

“He left a note.”

You didn’t see it when he first came in, a cloth against the mug of water he brought. “What does it say?”

Eddie giggles as he lifts it up and clears this throat dramatically. “It says, ‘You kids don’t know the meaning of the word quiet. I went for a walk. I’ll be back at 11.”

You put your hands over your mouth, mortified that after meeting his uncle its followed by fucking too loud and forcing him out of his own trailer. Eddie doesn’t seem to find this embarrassing, but rather funny. Silently you ask him why he’s laughing. “I didn’t think I would ever be able to fuck so loud that my uncle had to leave, seeing as my virginity status was bound to last until college.” He sighs looking off into distance. “Dreams really do come true.”

You get up, knees weak to grab the cloth in his hands. “I’ll take that.”

“AH ah ah.” He yanks it out of reach. “Lie down. Let me take care of you. Then we’ll go watch something in the living room before I drive you home, ok?”

You lie back down, Eddie placing a nice warm cloth on your pussy to clean it. When he’s done, he gives you some water. “Do you need a shower?” He asks, offering a clean towel from the linen closet. You nod your head no, thinking you’ll just take one at home and you wanted more time together.

Eddie shrugs and gives you your clothes and lets you know he’ll meet you in the living room and it’s his turn to pick the movie.

After Wayne gives you an extra half hour of wiggle room, he finds you sitting on the couch, you refusing to make eye contact as he walks in. He sits next to you anyway, already forgotten.

-

You guyssss have blown me away with the love you have shown these little blurbs I cannot thank you enough. Please let me know what you thought pls I love reading it... xoxo

Again there are more smut scenes in the long story that I won't be posting as a stand alone (like Eddie's their first time.)

[elliesflower]

hii, i love your work so much <3 can u write smth about reader and abby (in a pre established relationship) where readers mind just goes completely blank as she stares at abbys arms when she works out or literally does anything and abby notices and fucks her hard and uses her strength to do whatever she wants with reader? would also be nice if u could write smth about overstimulation <3 i know its not a noticeable detail for this req but pls write black!reader bc i am too and need some abby for myself tysm 🫶

what you need [abby anderson]

pairing; abby x black fem!reader

cw; top!abby, bottom!reader, strap-on usage (r!recieving), overstimulation, dirty talk/gendered pet names, kinda leaning on bimbo/subspace territory

an; thank u so much for this request sweetheart! i hope u enjoy, please let me know what u think!! i'm sorry the ending is a little rushed, i've literally been trying to post this for like three weeks lmfao. also i did not proofread this v well so if u see a mistake no u dont <3

tags; @scandalcus @prrimordiais @roarriita

18+ only, mdni!!!!

you don’t consider yourself weak. 

but when you were looking at abby, perhaps you were. just a bit. 

“babe? the chalk,” abby’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you shook your head slightly, as if it would get rid of them, reaching behind you to grab the chalk before crossing the room to hand it to her. 

“thanks,” she didn’t even look at you, and you almost huffed. you’ve been with her at the gym for what feels like hours now, even though it’s probably only been more like thirty minutes. you started out just walking on the treadmill, but got bored pretty quickly when you realized you could be watching your girlfriend train instead. 

she was training for a pr on her deadlift, and she was getting close. you’d barely seen her this week—when she wasn’t on patrol, she was in the gym. you fell asleep before she got home almost every night, and when you woke up, she was already gone. it was driving you crazy, and now that you were together, she still was barely paying you any mind. 

she rubbed the chalk between her hands, clapping them out on her thighs before positioning herself behind the bar. you sat back down behind her and watched as she bent over, gripping the metal bar, her forearms flexing as she adjusted her grip. you practically had to wipe the drool away from your mouth as you watched her begin to lift, admiring the way her veins popped out from beneath her skin, her shoulders glistening with sweat as her muscles flexed with the effort it took to lift the weights. 

her brows were knit together in concentration as she watched herself in the mirror, gritting her teeth together and keeping her breath as controlled as possible. you couldn’t help but to feel flustered as she panted, imagining the sounds in a…much different context.

the sound of the weights clattering to the ground snapped you out of your head for a second time, and you flinched, watching as abby smiled at herself in the mirror, flexing and slapping her bicep. 

“yeah, that’s right,” she spoke, and oh, that sounded eerily similar to her bedroom voice, “that’s what i’m fucking talking about! did you see that shit?” she turned to face you now, still grinning from ear-to-ear. “beat my pr by forty pounds, i gotta get manny in here tomorrow to verify because that shit is going up on the board.”

you smiled up at her, nodding—but it was kind of hard when you were also focused on pressing your thighs together, trying to ignore the fact that somewhere along the line, your panties had become damp, sticking delicately to your folds as you watched abby training. her mouth twitched just slightly at the corner, and you swallowed. you knew abby could read you like the back of her hand, no matter how hard you tried to hide from her. 

“something wrong, baby?” she asked, feigning concern. her tank top was covered in sweat around the neckline, her forehead glistening under the fluorescents as she walked toward you. you shook your head, a bit too quickly, and it was telling. your throat felt dry, your brain absolutely scrambled as you looked up at her. she stopped directly in front of you, towering over you so that you had to strain your neck to look up at her. if there wasn’t a giant wall of windows to the left of you, you couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t just sink down to your knees and kiss her fucking feet. she looked like an angel—scratch that, god—above you as you watched her through your lashes, stomach tying in knots. 

she wasn’t saying anything. she was just looking at you, breathing heavy, with half of that stupid smile still on her face. you focused your own breathing, in and out, but it didn’t help that she was so close you could smell her, sweaty musk that could only smell good on her, and it was making you dizzy. and she fucking knew it too. 

“alright then,” she said finally, bending down to your level so that your faces were mere inches apart. “what d’you say we go clean up and meet jordan and leah for dinner?” oh, right. there was that. you could only nod, and abby’s eyes were wild, flickering down to your mouth before meeting yours again. 

“let’s go.” her voice was sharp, commanding, and she went to retrieve her gym bag. you sat silently for another moment, trying to will yourself to calm down, just a bit. you knew you’d get back to the room and she wouldn’t be able to resist—she’d have you pinned up against the wall before you could even blink. 

except, she didn’t. she tossed her bag to the ground and began gathering things for her shower, effectively ignoring, even as you changed out of your shirt extra slowly, just waiting for her to turn around and catch you. but she didn’t, and didn’t even say another word as she slipped out the door to take a shower. you scrunch your brows together, lips pouting slightly as you get dressed for dinner, making sure to put on a clean pair of underwear. you were so worked up, part of you wanted to touch yourself, right here and now—but you didn’t even want to think about how long abby might make you wait if she came back and found you knuckle deep in your pussy. so you didn’t.

dinner with leah and jordan was pleasant. leah’s cooking was insane, as always, and jordan and abby caught up on some big assignment that was coming up, still paying you little attention. after dinner, you were excited to get back to your room, practically salivating at the thought of what abby might do to you, but jordan just had to suggest watching a movie. and of course, abby just had to agree. 

you were a bit surprised when abby pulled you onto her lap on the couch, seeing as she had practically been avoiding you like the plague since the gym, and oh—she was packing.

leah rested her head on jordan’s lap on the loveseat beside you, their bodies conveniently angled just so that you were out of view. your eyes widened, breath hitching as abby snaked her arm around your waist, pulling you further back into her as she readjusted her position against the couch, effectively grinding her hips up into you. you bit your lip as you leaned back into her, glancing over at leah and jordan to confirm they couldn’t see you. she smelled like pine and her hair was down, fuck she looked so good with her hair down. 

“wassa’ matter babe?” abby whispered against your neck, and you shivered. “you’re so tense.” she punctuated her point with a hand on your shoulder, her thumb pressing into the junction of your neck. 

“nothing,” you lied, trying to keep your voice quiet and steady. “just watching the movie.” and thinking about abby flipping you over and railing you into next week. but you didn’t say that part. you didn’t even know what movie was playing. 

“mhm,” she murmured behind you, her hand trailing around your middle to meet her other, pressing you even further against her. you could feel her cock pressing into your ass, and you had to bite back a moan. you reached to grasp at her wrists, your fingers not even wrapping around the girth of them, trying to grind your hips for just a little bit of friction—anything, you’d take anything you could get at this point—but she only tightened her grip, halting your movements. 

“stop squirming,” she said quietly. “m’trying to watch the movie.” it was really unfair, how her voice was so steady, and her breathing so even. meanwhile, you thought you might explode, nails digging into her skin as you tried your best to ignore the heat in your stomach, and how you were definitely ruining this pair of panties as well. 

she held you like that, for a few minutes longer, or hours, maybe, how long was this fucking movie? your pussy was clenching and unclenching, your heart beating out of control as you tried to ignore the feeling of abby beneath you to no avail. 

suddenly, thankfully, she relinquished her hold on your waist, smoothing her hands down the expanse of your bare thighs. 

“hey, i’m getting pretty tired. i’ve gotta be up pretty early, i think we’re gonna turn in,” she said over the movie, and jordan craned his neck to look at the pair of you standing up. you really hoped your face didn’t give away how insanely flustered you felt. leah was passed out in his lap, and he gave you both a nod and bid you goodnight. 

in the hallway, abby was back to ignoring you. you could barely keep up with her as she strode ahead. you were aching at this point, genuinely surprised you weren’t leaking straight down your thighs as you watched her back muscles flex beneath her shirt. you loved this game. and she knew it too. 

she stopped just outside your door, leaning against the frame and crossing her arms as she waited for you to unlock it. before you could get both feet through the doorway, she was right behind you, chest pressing against your back as she ushered you inside, closing the door behind her and spinning you around so that she could press you against it. you gasped, flattening your palms against the door as you looked at her, your head trapped between her arms. you burned under her gaze, stomach tightening and legs going weak. 

“don’t think i didn’t see your face in the mirror while i was training,” she said quietly, grabbing the back of your neck to keep your eyes on her. you were so fucking horny you didn’t have the semblance to be ashamed as she all but taunted you.

“hm? just watching me work out gets you all hot and bothered?” you felt like your neck might snap from nodding so hard. abby laughed quietly at you, the sound only turning you on more. 

“yeah i know, because you know i could take you any way i wanted and you wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. so fucking spoiled,” she was teasing you, and you whined. “you’ve been so patient with me this week,” she pressed her lower half against you, using her hand to press the side of your face into the door, making you once again aware of the silicone cock in her pants. she could feel your pulse thrumming against her fingers, exciting her. “gonna make it all better now, okay? i’m gonna give you what you need…” her lips were ghosting over your ear, and you were quite literally trembling in her grasp, taking in a shaky breath as you waited patiently. 

“so good for me,” she grabbed you by the jaw, before she placed a kiss on your lips and pulled back, causing you to let out a pitiful whine. 

“tell me what you want,” her lids were heavy as she looked at you, her poor, poor baby—lips parted, eyes glazed over, panting with a desperate need. you pouted slightly. surely she’d give in, right? she’s already had you waiting for so long. 

she gripped your jaw tighter, making you gasp as she pressed you further into the door. you were helpless, completely at her mercy, her strength always hyper evident when she had you like this. “c’mon, tell me what you want.” you felt tears welling in your eyes, balling your hands into fists as she watched your face. 

“use me,” your voice broke through, small and weak. somehow, abby’s face remained stoic, though you saw her draw in a sharp breath. she pulled her hand away to tap at your cheek, not quite a slap, but enough that you were whining. 

“manners,” she reprimanded, withdrawing her hand completely. you let a tear fall as you were overcome with frustration, emptiness–

“please, use me, please abby, i missed you,” and it was pathetic, how a sob escaped your lips. but it was okay, because you knew she’d make it all better, her eyes going soft for a moment before she was pulling you in, slotting your lips together in a messy kiss. you could taste as your tears mixed with saliva, letting her suck your tongue into her mouth before trailing her hands down to your ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing. 

“jump,” she mumbled against your lips, and you obliged, letting her pull you in as you wrapped your legs around her waist. she carried you across the room with ease, and you couldn’t help but try to press deeper against her lower half.

“so fuckin’ pretty baby,” she mumbled against you, and she was setting you down on the table. “was so hard to not to just bend you over that couch and fuck you like you deserve,” oh god, oh fuck, you were moaning against her mouth, letting her hands find the hem of your shirt before she was pulling it off over your head, exposing your breasts. 

“bet you’d like that, hm? letting me fuck you in front of our friends, show them how dirty you really are?” she rasped, her voice holding a desperate edge. you whined at the notion, the fact that she was just as desperate for you as you were for her. you nodded pathetically as she rubbed a thumb across your sensitive nipples, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as you gripped the edge of the table. 

she dipped her head down, swirling her tongue over one of your nipples and you threaded your fingers through her hair, gripping tightly as your head fell back in ecstasy, mouth falling open in a silent moan. she kissed her way back up to your mouth as you panted heavily. she wasn’t even teasing you, she was so desperate, the heat radiating off her body as she continued messily kissing up to your neck, your jaw, back to your mouth where she parted your lips with her own, fumbling with the button of your jeans. 

“yeah, i know baby, i know,” her voice was like velvet, scratchy and soft at the same time against your lips. “just need me to take care of you, huh? that it?” she was practically manhandling you to lift your hips up and pull off your pants and panties, your tailbone connecting rather harshly with the wooden table once you were exposed—you didn’t have the semblance to be embarrassed at how it barely even hurt as your body was overwhelmed with adrenaline, with desire, with abby. 

“yes, god,” you threw your head back, wrapping your legs around her waist to draw her in closer as she sucked a fresh mark into your neck, and then another, and another, leaving you grinding helplessly against her, your wetness allowing you to rub your clit directly against the bulge in her pants. your whining was pornographic, desperate and loud, the friction clouding your mind with ecstasy. “missed you so much, abs, please–”

“fuckin’ needy,” she gritted, pressing on your lower back to get you even closer, eliciting a gasp from your mouth as you clutched onto her shoulder with one hand while the other kept you steady on the table. “barely been a week and you just need it that bad, can’t even wait for my cock?” her words were filthy, and your grinding even filthier, desperate and rough, like you were a bitch in heat—abby’s strong arm was keeping you in place as you took your pleasure, the feeling overwhelming your body as you panted and gasped, and oh, since when were you able to cum this fast? “c’mon baby, that’s it– take what you need, i got you.”

it must have barely been five seconds before you were losing it, body tensing as your hips stuttered, feeling your wetness absolutely drenching the front of abby’s pants. “oh m’godm’godfuckingchrist–” you babbled incoherently as she held you through it, murmuring praises and trying to hide her own groans by biting down into your shoulder. your used clit was puffy and sore against the rough fabric of her pants as you came down, whining as abby reached between your bodies. 

“such a fucking good girl, my god,” she praised, giving you no time to recover as she ran her fingers through your slick folds. you moaned, your thighs closing around her arm instinctively as she explored your wetness, slipping two fingers inside with ease. 

“abby, s’too much, please,” your voice was pitiful, broken and whiny as you gripped her arm, your words inconsistent with the way your walls fluttered around her fingers as she opened you up, unable to resist her, even when it felt like too much—because you know it wasn’t too much. in fact, maybe it wasn’t enough. abby knew your body, exactly how you needed to be taken apart, brought to your peak and taken care of.

“yeah? you don’t want this then?” she taunted, and took her fingers out so that she was just teasing your entrance. 

“no!” you gasped, the empty feeling making your stomach twist, tears streaming down your face. “please, i- i can take it, please, i’m sorry,” you begged, would practically say anything or do anything at this point. but you knew abby wouldnt make you wait long, smirking at you before pressing her fingers back in just as quickly as she’d pulled out. she couldn’t resist you, especially after not having you for an entire week. 

“i know you can baby, such a good girl,” she was working her fingers into you rapidly now, determined to make you come on her fingers again before she impaled you on her strap.and it wouldn’t take long, what with your sensitive cunt being abused again. you were shaking, could feel your wetness pooling beneath you, ruining the table as you moaned and panted. “c’mon, let go for me baby, let go,” her voice washed over you, started as the sweat on your hairline until it was making your stomach twist, your thighs tremble and your toes curl, your pussy gushing out for the second time already that night. 

“fuck,” you whined, clenching desperately around nothing as she pulled her fingers out of you, digging your nails into her shoulder as she ran a finger over your swollen clit again, making you gasp out her name, broken and pitiful. your heart was beating out of your chest, watching abby draw her fingers up to your mouth. your lips parted automatically, allowing her to press her fingers in, pressing down on your tongue as you sucked your juices off of her. 

“yeah, that’s it,” she breathed. “clean up your mess baby.” so full of love and adoration, but she wanted more. you could see it in her eyes as they flashed something wild, and knew she wasn’t planning on stopping. watching your pleasure was doing something to her she couldn’t even explain, practically moaning at the sight and feeling of you sucking on her fingers.

you were tired, your multiple orgasms after a dry spell catching up to you quickly, and abby could sense your sudden change in demeanor—your eyes drooping slightly as you sucked lazily on her fingers, your index finger holding onto one of her belt loops to keep you upright. you were a sight, your juices spilled all over the table, your thighs sticky and messy with your arousal. she almost took pity on you, almost. but she knew her good girl could take just one more. 

and you knew it too, what with the way she was looking at you. the thought made you feel dirty, and made you moan around her fingers, grasping on her wrist as you started sucking on them just a little bit harder, that little flame in your tummy igniting once more. you watched abby’s eyes darken as you sped up, her chest rising and falling quicker as she felt your tongue wrapping around her fingers.

“oh m’god, baby,” she groaned, and she withdrew her fingers, a string of saliva dribbling down your chin as she shuffled backwards to undo her pants. “i gotta fuck you baby, gotta give you what you deserve,” she was rambling as you leaned back on your elbows, your legs twitching as the cool air washed over your damp pussy, on display for your girlfriend. “gonna give you this cock baby don’t worry.”

“please abby,” and unspoken was please take care of me, please fuck me, please do anything you want to me, and she would. there was no doubt. you could barely see the black silicone spring free from down the line of your body as you were laid back on the table. 

“i know baby, i know,” abby gripped your hip with one hand, her blunt nails digging into the flesh with a delicious sting, and you tried to pull back when the tip of her strap brushed over your over-sensitive clit. it made your brain all fuzzy, your whole body tingling with the over-sensitivity, the push and pull of wanting more but feeling so used. “just let me in, you can take it,” she was practically cooing, teasing your entrance as you writhed on the table, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to watch. 

“abby!” you cried as she pushed past the tight ring of muscle, your back arching so that you sat up higher, the angle pressing her cock right against your most delicate spot. abby’s hand immediately came around to your back, holding you up before you dead-weighted and hit your head on the wooden table. 

“i got you, angel, you’re okay,” she was mesmerized, watching the way your body responded to her. you were so fucked out, the feeling of her cock stretching you out making you whine and pant and feel so fucking dirty. “c’mon baby, sit up. hands around my neck, you can do it,” she was pulling you up, and you obliged, reaching up to wrap your arms lazily around her neck. she snaked both arms around your waist and lifted you up off the table, causing you to cry out and bury your face into her neck. 

“that’s it, just relax,” she kept herself nestled deep inside you, almost pressed against your cervix when you wrapped your legs around her waist and whined pitifully, the sound muffled by abby’s shirt. her hands snaked down to your ass to keep you spread open as she held you still and began to thrust slowly up into your sore cunt. 

“oh m’god abby, jesus,” you cried as she fucked into you with seemingly no effort, your wet pussy making obscene noises each time she pulled out. you were already teetering right on the edge, and the feeling of her cock filling you up was going to be your downfall. she groaned each time she felt you tensing in her grip, and she was faltering with her own arousal. 

“such a good fucking girl,” she was almost growling, and you were so close, so fucking close, your juices dribbling out indecently around her as she fucked you to overstimulation. “taking everything i give you…is my pretty girl going to come again for me? hm?” you could do nothing but nod as abby bounced you up and down on her thick cock, desperate to bring you to your release. 

“well c’mon then,” she whispered against the side of your face and your eyes rolled back into your head as your pussy tightened around her, nearly suffocating her with your arms as your body was overwhelmed by your third orgasm of the night. a broken mantra of abby abby abby abby spilling from your lips as you tumbled over the edge again. 

“that’s it baby, fuck,” abby’s voice was almost as broken as yours, pulling you closer into her hips as you cried into her shoulder. 

“my fucking best girl.”

[maezysworld]

test subject x the ghoul pt 1

Pairing: cooper howard x fem! cat mutant & sniper reader (thats a mouth full lol)

I've never really written stories like this but i think this is a fun idea so ill try my best anyways please please please msg me if you have ideas and or suggestions (i am sensitive please be nice LMAO)

Warnings: slow burn, writer is dyslexic, might be slightly out of character, a whole lot of guns, not proof read

context: you are part cat due to being experimented on you have the cat ears and eyes along with all there senses (i do plan on making a full backstory)

your on the search for a doctor who has a large sum of caps over his head, you could care less about the caps you don't have a lot to do in this world so you take any opportunity you can to have some fun no matter how risky it could be. considering the amount of caps, you already know it will be quite the task but you don't mind playing with your food.

you've asked around the wasteland a little (not that a lot of people really said anything useful) but any information you got led you to a town called filly. you entered filly walking in trying your best not to draw more attention to yourself, the gasmask your wearing doesn't really help with that but you don't really need people knowing you have animal ears and eyes. you take in your surroundings as you walk with a crowd looking for the highest most excluded building you could see when a ghoul catches your eyes, you walk a bit slower admiring him for a moment watching him roll a vile in between his fingers before snapping out of your trans and picking up you pace again.

you get to the top of the building staying low to the ground making sure no one sees you up here before laying on your stomach and pulling out your sniper riffle. you sit and watch everything for about 7 minutes until a familiar doctor falls into you glance. you don't even bother lining up your scope to his head, you don't feel the need to someone else is bound to get him after you shoot him regardless but that's more then okay with you, you don't mind playing a waiting game.

you see him talking to a vault dweller just before an older woman who seems to run a shop approach them, you try you best to listen in but all you can seem to make out is the shop owner saying something about getting out of here. "this gasmask is fucking me over" you whisper with a sigh readjusting your arm a bit to be more comfortable.

suddenly the ghoul stands up, along with a few people just now noticing there's a ghoul in the town as they cautiously speed walk away from the area. the ghoul shouts something about this doctor having a hefty price over his head as almost everyone moves away from the man. a sly smile grows on your face now knowing hes involved with this bounty as well. the shop owner says something and before she can even finish her sentence the ghoul shoots the mans foot off, the poor vault dweller just stands there in fear and confusion, a wave of sympathy overcomes you knowing you were just like her you almost wish you still were.

the old woman shouts "i gotta 1000 bottle caps for who ever kills that fucker!!... but you dont get SHIT if i kill em first!". your not to sure why but after hearing that you start to focus your scope on anyone who starts to even look at him. the ghoul holds his gun out gun on the trigger ready to shoot just waiting for someone to make the first move as he looks around in a circle. a man in a black hat and googles pulls out his gun but before he can even pull the trigger the ghoul shoots him in the chest, his bullet exploding on impact. immediately after more people start shooting at him, he turns in a circle again shooting anyone who try's to get near him as you shoot the people from a distance. in all honesty you know he probably doesn't need your help but still you continue with out a reason to be doing so. you see someone trying to come at him with a knife from behind and just as the ghoul turns around to attack you shoot the man with the knife and the glare of your scope hits the ghouls eye and he looks up as you give a slight wave right before pointing to signal behind him as a brother a steel knight shows up.

you see the old woman and the vault dweller go run and hide into the shop bringing the doctor with him. you know you wont to much to the walking tin man so you decide to go down and listen in. you try your best to sneak in with out anyone seeing you but as the ghoul is on some broken steps you look over at him and with out a doubt he was looking dead at you before getting right back into combat. you ignore it and continue to snoop in on the others.

you keep your back pressed tightly agents the wall. hear the woman convince the vault dweller to take the doctor to moldaver, you've heard of the woman but have never had any encounters with her based off the things you've heard you know this will be a good time (you would have never found anything about this situation fun before the war). you start making your way out of the building after hearing that its plenty for you to go off along with now having both the doctor and the vault dwellers sent. you decide to hide in a ally and wait for things to die down before leaving.

after about 9 minutest you don't hear metal clacking or guns shooting you start to leave filly. you didnt get to far outside of the town before you hear a gun cock behind you "aint you a little over prepared?" you hear a mans voice with a southern accent referring to your gas mask. you turn to face the voice seeing the ghoul you've been eyeing this whole trip "doesn't effect you now does it? is the gun really nectary after i helped you?" you scoff offended but knowing youd do the same "now i aint ask you to do that for me, did i?" he says finger on the trigger. you think for a moment 'rude ass' you think to yourself "i guess not, but a thank you would be nice" you say with sarcasm in your voice. The Ghoul keeps his eyes upon you as you speak, the gun never moving. He lets out a short laugh at your attempt to engage. "You want a thank you for a job half done? bailed in the middle of a fight.. not that id thank you anyways i didnt need your help smooth skin. what's you goal here you tryn to steal my bounty" he says sounding more relaxed than he should be. "not necessarily, i don't want the caps if that's what your worried about." the gun never wavers even as you speak. "so just what do you want then?". "entertainment, not much to do in this world." you say with a smile on your face, not that he can see it. The Ghoul is surprised by your answer. He lowers his gun slightly, looking you up and down, but still doesn't trust you. "You ain't got better things to do with your time? Like finding food, or water, or caps?". those things are all fairly easy to come across for you, your sneaky and when you want something you take it. "lets say that all comes easy" Something you said intrigues him, and his gaze lingers on you a little longer. He shifts his weight to his left foot, and holsters his gun. "You saying food, water, caps just comes to you?". you relax abit more now that his guns down "i never said that, its just easy to get. now i have some information that may be of use to you, and im more then happy to give it under one condition" The Ghoul's interest is piqued. His curiosity getting the better of him, he nods his head. He wants to see if what you're peddling is actually worth something. "And what would that condition be?". you feel excited, youve never traveld with someone much less had company in years and the though of him agreeing (even if its not very friendly) makes you happy "i come with you on your bounty." He considers it, still not fully trusting you, but also intrigued by your offer. "And why the Hell would I want you along for a bounty hunt? Why should I trust you? What's to stop you from just turning on me? "he responds "you interest me, my weapons aren't out now are they? if i wanted to kill you i would have done it while i was on the roof" you say slightly muffled from your gas mask. He looks at you for a moment, thinking it over. He didn't like the idea of traveling with someone he didn't know, but he wouldnt mind the help from someone who knows how use to use a gun(not that he'd ever admit that). "Fine, we'll go after the bounty. But the second I even get a hint you're planning something, I'll kill you where you stand. We clear?". "understood." you say trying your hardest not to sound excited. He nods, then turns and begins walking away the dog standing behind him following. He calls over his shoulder to you.

please let me know what you guys think of this and im open to any suggestions and ideas ( i would also love name ideas for this) :)

notes: @s-lock-doctordonna I LOVED YOUR IDEAS AND I WILL BE USEING THANK YOU <3

[elysiaheaven]

𐌋𐌀𐌋𐌀𐌋𐌀𐌋𐌀 𐌕𐋅𐌄 𐌂Ꝋ𐌍𐌕𐌓Ꝋ𐌋 𐋅𐌀𐌔 𐌁𐌄Ᏽ𐌀𐌍!-Ꝋᑳ

Context: You suddenly remembered your childhood days with him.

Some parts of it are fuzzy is it intentional or...?

Words:6000

MONTHS NOW.

TW: MANIPULATION, BLOOD,

You are the same as Sunday.

This friendship with him. Was happier than you expected..Your father changed his ways? But he still didn't let you meet your mother.

Right you, him and Robin are talking. Robin was busy playing with butterflies as always.

You had a small talk about Gopher with him.

Finally, he speaks, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Gopher Wood's teachings about the Aeon of Order... they've been drilled into me since I was little. Everything has to be in order, perfectly aligned, no room for mistakes. It's supposed to keep everything under control, but..." He pauses, glancing at Robin, who is skipping ahead of you, blissfully unaware of the conversation. "It scares me for Robin."

You nod, listening intently as he continues. "She's so full of life, so carefree. The thought of her being forced into this rigid path, of having her spirit crushed under the weight of these teachings... it terrifies me."

He takes a deep breath, his expression tormented. "But it's fine. I can handle the stress, the pressure. I can lay it all on myself. I've already started to bear it. But her... she shouldn't have to."

As he pours out his trauma, you feel your resolve tighten. Each word he speaks fuels your anger toward Gopher Wood, a man who has caused so much pain and fear. You want to snap, to scream about how Mr. Wood is the worst man, but you can't. Sunday respects him as much as he fears him, and you don't want to break the fragile bond of trust you share with him.

"I want to be like him," Sunday admits quietly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and dread. "Strong, composed, always in control. Maybe then, I can protect Robin from all this."

He lets go of your hand and walks away, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his inner turmoil. You watch him go, feeling a mix of sorrow and determination. You can't let Gopher Wood's teachings destroy Sunday and Robin. You need to find a way to help them, to show them that there's more to life than order and control.

"Sunday," you call out, your voice firm but gentle.

He stops and turns to look at you, his expression guarded.

"Mr.Wood isn't a kind man."

Sunday gasps at your words, a mix of shock and confusion crossing his face. "But Mr. Wood is really kind to us," he insists, his voice trembling. "I have to repay him for everything he's done."

You feel your patience snap, the frustration and anger boiling over. Grabbing his shoulder, you force him to face you, a crazed smile twisting your lips. "No, Sunday. Gopher Wood's ways of order are wrong. He doesn't want you to be strong or free. He wants a puppet, and that's what you're becoming!"

Sunday's eyes widen in fear, but he doesn't push you away. He's too stunned by your sudden outburst, too caught up in the torrent of your words to react.

"You're so fragile, Sunday," you say, your voice harsh and unrelenting. "You're scared of everything. Every shadow, every whisper, every possible mistake. Gopher Wood has made you believe that following him gives you meaning, but all it does is chain you down!"

He trembles under your grip, tears welling up in his eyes. "But... without him, I don't know what to do," he whispers, his voice cracking. "I need his guidance. I need to repay him."

"No, you don't," you reply, your voice softer but still firm. "You don't owe him anything. You deserve to be free, to find your own path. Not the one he forces you into."

Sunday shakes his head, his tears spilling over. "I don't know how," he admits, his voice barely audible. "I don't know how to be strong without him."

You soften your grip, your anger giving way to compassion. "You don't have to do it alone, Sunday. You have me, and you have Robin. We can help each other. We can find our own way."

You pull him into a hug, holding him tightly. "That's all I ask," you say softly. "Just try. And remember, you have us. Always."

Sunday pulls back from your embrace abruptly, his eyes flashing with a sudden intensity. "No," he snaps, his voice trembling with emotion. "You don't understand. I need to be useful. I need to keep everything in order."

You look at him, startled by the outburst. "Sunday, I—"

He cuts you off, his voice rising. "If I don't keep things in order, Robin will suffer. She's my only family, and I can't let her go through what I've been through. And now, you're my best friend. I have to keep things in order with you too, so you won't be punished by your family."

The desperation in his voice is palpable, and it breaks your heart. "Sunday, you're not alone in this. You don't have to bear all this responsibility by yourself."

"But I do!" he yells, tears streaming down his face. "I have to. If I don't, everything will fall apart. Robin, you, everyone I care about will get hurt."

You step closer, reaching out to him, but he takes a step back, his eyes wild with fear and determination. "You're so twisted for a child, it's scary," he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You push me to go against everything I've been taught, and it terrifies me."

The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, and for a moment, you're at a loss for how to respond. Then, taking a deep breath, you speak softly but firmly. "Sunday, I don't want to scare you. I just want you to see that there are other ways to protect the people you love. Order and control aren't the only answers."

Sunday looks at you with wide eyes, his earlier intensity fading into confusion as you push him away gently. Your words hang in the air, challenging everything he's been taught.

"Both harmony and order are a joke," you declare firmly, your voice tinged with frustration. "What we need is freedom. Freedom to choose, to live without fear of punishment or control."

Sunday's brow furrows as he tries to process your words. "But... Gopher Wood teaches us that order is necessary," he murmurs, his voice uncertain.

You shake your head, your own frustration mounting. "Sunday, you're not the right person for order," you continue, your tone softer now but no less determined. "You're not selfish like I thought. You want to protect people, the weak, like Robin and me."

His eyes widen at your words, a flicker of realization crossing his face. "I... I just want to keep everyone safe," he admits quietly. "But Mr. Wood says..."

"Mr. Wood isn't always right," you interject firmly. "He wants to control us, to make us believe that his way is the only way. But it's not. We can find our own way, together."

Sunday recoils slightly at your outburst, hurt and confusion evident in his eyes. Your words cut deeper than you intended, but you can't hold back the frustration bubbling within you.

"The will of the weak is not to be protected and can't be decided by a guy like him!" you shout, your voice echoing through the garden. "You're making a big mistake if you think following Gopher Wood is the right path!"

Sunday's shoulders slump, his gaze dropping to the ground. "But... what else can I do?" he asks quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. "I don't know any other way."

You take a deep breath, your anger softening into sadness. "Sunday, you're stronger than you think," you say, your tone gentler now. "You don't need Gopher Wood to define your worth or your purpose. You have the strength to choose your own path."

Sunday's admission hangs heavily in the air between you, his words echoing in the quiet garden. You look at him with a deadpan expression, your eyes betraying a mix of disappointment and concern. Behind you, unnoticed by Sunday, a few pairs of eyes (eyes of order) watch the scene unfold.

"You want to follow Mr. Gopher," you repeat, your voice flat but tinged with sadness. "Even after everything we've talked about?"

Sunday nods, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I... I don't know any other way," he admits softly. "He's always been there, guiding us."

"But at what cost, Sunday?" you ask, your tone edged with frustration. "At the cost of your own freedom? Your own happiness?"

He looks up at you, tears welling in his eyes. "I just... I want to protect Robin," he whispers, his voice pleading for understanding. "I can't let anything happen to her."

"And I understand that," you reply, your voice gentler now. "But you don't have to sacrifice yourself to protect her. There are other ways, better ways."

Sunday shakes his head, a stubborn resolve settling over him. "I have to do this," he insists, his voice gaining strength. "I have to protect her. And... and maybe Mr. Gopher is right. Maybe order is the only way."

You take a step closer to him, reaching out to touch his arm. "Sunday, listen to me," you say urgently, your eyes locking with his. "You're not weak. You have the strength to choose your own path, to make your own decisions. Don't let fear or obligation dictate your life."

He hesitates, torn between loyalty to Gopher Wood and the desire for a different future. "But what if I'm wrong?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"We'll figure it out together," you reply firmly, squeezing his arm gently. "I promise."

Sunday looks at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. He knows you're right, but the comfort of familiarity and the weight of Gopher Wood's teachings still hold sway over him.

"I... I need time," he finally says, his voice filled with uncertainty.

You nod, respecting his need for space to process everything. "Take all the time you need," you say softly. "But remember, I'm here for you. Always."

Sunday leaves. You didn't expect it will be harder for you to send time with him.

As Sunday delved deeper into his strict regimen of studying and adhering to Gopher Wood's teachings, he began to feel a sense of control and purpose that he hadn't experienced before. The hours spent poring over books and memorizing rules gave him a structured framework within which he could navigate his daily life.

He meticulously organized his belongings, ensuring everything had its designated place. His notes were immaculately kept, each page filled with precise handwriting and highlighted key points. Sunday's room transformed into a model of orderliness, reflecting his growing commitment to Gopher Wood's ideals of maintaining harmony through strict adherence to rules and routines.

With each passing day, Sunday's demeanor became more composed and methodical. He greeted each morning with a sense of determination, eager to tackle the tasks laid out for him. His interactions with others became measured and calculated, as he sought to uphold the principles of order and discipline that had been instilled in him.

Despite the outward appearance of calm and control, there were moments when glimpses of doubt flickered in Sunday's eyes. He wondered if this path of rigid conformity was truly fulfilling, or if he was merely following a script written by someone else. Yet, the fear of uncertainty and the comfort of familiarity kept him tethered to his studies and routines.

Through it all, you watched from a distance, observing the changes in Sunday with a mixture of concern and understanding. You knew that his pursuit of order was driven by a genuine desire to protect those he cared about, especially Robin. But you also feared that he was losing sight of his own potential and the freedom to choose his own path.

You decided to visit him. baking his favourite sweets.

Sunday's words cut through the air like a knife, his attempt to impose his beliefs on you hitting a nerve. "Proper clothing is important for someone of noble status like you," he says earnestly, echoing the teachings of Gopher Wood that he had come to embody.

"You think proper clothing defines who I am?" you shout, your voice tinged with bitterness. "You sound just like him!"

Sunday recoils, his expression shifting from confidence to hurt confusion. "I... I didn't mean to upset you," he stammers, his eyes wide with disbelief at your outburst.

"You didn't mean to?" you retort, your tone sharp with sarcasm. "You know nothing about who I am or what I've been through."

He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, your emotions raw and unfiltered. "I thought you understood me, Sunday," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. "But you're just like everyone else, trying to fit me into your idea of what I should be."

Sunday's shoulders slump, his earlier resolve crumbling under your accusations. "I... I didn't realize," he mumbles, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I need some space," you declare, your voice softer now but no less resolute. "I can't be around someone who reminds me of him."

With that, you turn and walk away, Sunday stands there, stunned and conflicted, as he watches you walk away in the wake of your heated exchange. His initial shock gives way to a surge of determination as he realizes he can't let you go like this.

"Wait," he calls out, his voice trembling with emotion. Ignoring the curious glances of onlookers, Sunday rushes after you, catching up just as you reach the garden's edge. He gently grabs your arm, turning you to face him.

"Don't leave," he pleads, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "Please, don't go."

You hesitate, torn between your need for space and the raw emotion in Sunday's eyes. His touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the forcefulness you had felt moments ago. You see the turmoil within him, the conflict between his loyalty to Gopher Wood's teachings and his growing attachment to you.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just... I want to understand."

Torn between your own conflicted emotions and Sunday's desperate plea, you try to pull away, but Sunday holds on tightly, his grip firm yet trembling. Tears stream down his cheeks, his usually composed demeanor shattered by the intensity of his emotions.

"You're the only hope for me," he cries out, his voice raw with vulnerability. "Your kindness... it's the only thing that gives me harmony."

His words pierce through your defenses, stirring a wellspring of empathy within you. Despite your earlier anger and frustration, you can't ignore the genuine pain and turmoil etched on Sunday's face. His admission lays bare his inner struggles, his longing for acceptance and understanding.

"I... I don't know what to do," he confesses, his voice breaking. "I feel like I'm losing myself... and you're the only one who sees me."

You stop struggling against his embrace, allowing his words to sink in. For all his adherence to order and control, Sunday is just as lost and uncertain as you are. In his own way, he's searching for a sense of belonging and purpose, seeking harmony amidst the rigid structure imposed upon him.

"You're not alone, Sunday," you say softly, reaching up to gently wipe away his tears. "We'll figure this out together."

He nods, his grip on you loosening as he leans his forehead against yours. The weight of his vulnerability hangs in the air, a fragile moment of connection between two souls navigating their own paths.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't want to lose you."

In a moment of unspoken understanding, you gently wrap your wings around Sunday, enfolding him in a warm embrace. It's a gesture of comfort and reassurance, a silent promise that you're here for him, navigating this turbulent journey together.

Sunday's breath hitches at the unexpected embrace, his body tensing before relaxing against yours. He leans into your wings, his own arms encircling your waist, as if seeking solace in the simple act of being held.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs again, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I didn't mean to cause you pain."

You stroke his back soothingly, the soft rustle of feathers a gentle backdrop to your reassurance. "It's okay," you whisper back, your words carrying a weight of understanding. "We're both figuring things out."

As the serene moment in the garden lingers, a shadow falls across the scene. Gopher Wood, the imposing figure known for his strict adherence to order, steps into view, his expression a mask of disapproval. His presence is commanding, his gaze piercing as it settles on Sunday and you, wrapped in a tender embrace.

"S-sir," Sunday stammers, his voice faltering under Gopher's intense scrutiny. He releases you reluctantly, his eyes darting between you and his mentor.

Gopher's eyes narrow slightly as he assesses the situation, his lips thinning into a disapproving line. "What is this, Sunday?" he demands, his voice cool and authoritative. "I thought we discussed the importance of discipline and focus. Is this how you uphold our principles?"

Sunday shifts uncomfortably, struggling to find the right words. "I... I just needed a moment," he tries to explain, his tone wavering. "I didn't mean to—"

Gopher interrupts with a sharp gesture, cutting off Sunday's explanation. "Moments of weakness only lead to disorder," he admonishes, his voice carrying a weight of disappointment. "You must remain steadfast in your commitment. This... attachment," he gestures towards you with a hint of disdain, "is a distraction, nothing more."

You stand silently, feeling the weight of Gopher's scrutiny upon you. His words echo with the familiar tone of control and manipulation, reminding you of the stifling influence he exerts over Sunday.

"S-she's important to me," Sunday protests weakly, his voice tinged with defiance. "She understands—"

"Understanding is irrelevant," Gopher retorts sharply, his gaze icy. "You are here to fulfill a greater purpose, Sunday. Do not let personal feelings cloud your judgment."

Sunday's shoulders slump, a mix of frustration and resignation flickering across his face. He casts a fleeting glance towards you, his eyes pleading for understanding before reluctantly turning back to Gopher.

"I... I understand," Sunday murmurs, his voice barely audible. "I won't let you down again."

Gopher nods curtly, his expression relenting slightly. "See that you don't," he warns, his tone firm. "There is much work to be done."

With one last disapproving look at you, Gopher turns on his heel and strides away, leaving Sunday standing there, visibly shaken and torn between his loyalty to Gopher and his connection to you.

Sunday watches Gopher's retreating figure with a conflicted expression, his fists clenched at his sides. He looks back at you, his eyes filled with apology and regret. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice tinged with despair. "I... I have to go."

Before you can respond, Sunday turns away and follows after Gopher, disappearing into the shadows cast by the setting sun. Left alone in the garden, you feel a hollow ache in your chest, knowing that the path ahead for both Sunday and yourself has grown even more uncertain and fraught with challenges.

As Gopher leads Sunday away, his voice takes on a softer tone, masking his earlier harshness with a veneer of concern and authority.

"Sunday," he begins, his voice gentle yet commanding, "you must understand that she is not what she seems. Her kindness is a facade, a guise to manipulate those around her. You are too kind-hearted to see the truth."

Sunday's brow furrows in confusion, torn between his loyalty to Gopher and his conflicted feelings towards you. "But... she's never harmed anyone," he murmurs, his voice tinged with doubt.

Gopher shakes his head, his expression sympathetic yet resolute. "Appearances can be deceiving, my boy," he counsels, placing a reassuring hand on Sunday's shoulder. "She has twisted your mind with false promises of harmony. But true harmony comes from order, discipline, and unwavering commitment."

Sunday looks down, uncertainty clouding his features. He wants to believe Gopher, to trust in the teachings that have shaped his worldview. Yet, a part of him remembers the genuine moments of connection and understanding he shared with you.

"You must let go of this illusion," Gopher continues, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "For the sake of our cause, for the sake of Robin, you must stay focused. She will only lead you astray."

Sunday nods slowly, his resolve hardening as he pushes aside his doubts. "I understand, sir," he replies quietly, his voice tinged with determination. "I won't let her influence cloud my judgment again."

Gopher nods approvingly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Good," he says, patting Sunday's shoulder reassuringly. "You are wise beyond your years, Sunday. Now, let us return to our studies. There is much to be done."

As they walk away together, Sunday casts one last glance back at the garden where you stood, a mix of sorrow and resolve in his eyes. He silently vows to heed Gopher's warnings, to suppress the lingering doubts that gnaw at his conscience.

Left alone, you feel a sense of betrayal and helplessness wash over you. Gopher's manipulation has cast doubt on the genuine connection you thought you shared with Sunday, leaving you uncertain of what lies ahead for both of you.

Sunday's mind races with conflicting thoughts as he walks alongside Gopher, their footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet corridors of their shared dwelling. He hesitates for a moment, then gathers the courage to voice the question that weighs heavily on his heart.

"Sir," Sunday begins tentatively, his voice low but steady, "does... does she pose a threat? Is that why you want me to distance myself?"

Gopher slows his pace, turning to face Sunday with a measured expression. His gaze holds a hint of weariness, as if he's about to impart a weighty truth. "She is a danger," he replies cryptically, his voice tinged with a mix of caution and certainty. "Not in the way you might think, but her influence... it could undermine everything we've worked for."

Sunday frowns, trying to decipher Gopher's words. "But she's just... she's just trying to understand," he argues weakly, unable to fully reconcile Gopher's portrayal of you with the person he knows.

Gopher's eyes harden slightly, a glint of impatience flashing in their depths. "She has a way of twisting minds," he warns, his tone firm. "You must trust in our cause, Sunday. We cannot afford distractions."

Sunday nods slowly, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. He wants to believe in Gopher's guidance, to uphold the principles of order and discipline that have shaped his beliefs. Yet, a part of him still clings to the moments of connection and understanding he shared with you.

"I will do as you say," Sunday finally concedes, his voice tinged with resignation. "I will stay focused on our mission."

Gopher nods approvingly, his expression softening slightly. "Good," he says, placing a reassuring hand on Sunday's shoulder. "You are wise to heed my counsel, Sunday. Now, let us continue our work."

Gopher's influence over Sunday grows stronger as days pass. Under his mentor's watchful eye, Sunday becomes increasingly distant, his interactions with you reduced to fleeting glances and polite, forced conversations in the corridors of their shared dwelling.

You notice the change immediately. Where once there was warmth and connection, now there is a palpable distance—a chasm widening between you and Sunday with each passing day. His once bright eyes now flicker with uncertainty and restraint whenever they meet yours, a stark reminder of Gopher's manipulative grip.

Despite the ache in your heart, you try to approach Sunday, to bridge the growing divide. But his responses are guarded, his words carefully chosen as if scripted by someone else. Gopher's presence looms over every interaction, his influence molding Sunday into a reflection of his own ideals—order, control, and unwavering allegiance.

One day, as you attempt to speak with Sunday in the garden where you once found solace together, Gopher appears unexpectedly at his side. His demeanor is cool and composed, yet there is an underlying tension in the air—a silent warning that hangs unspoken between them.

"Sunday," Gopher says with a measured tone, his voice carrying a weight of authority, "we have much to discuss."

Sunday shifts uncomfortably, casting a fleeting glance at you before turning his attention back to Gopher. "Yes, sir," he replies obediently, his voice lacking its usual warmth.

Gopher nods approvingly, his gaze flickering briefly towards you. "I trust you understand the necessity of maintaining distance," he continues, his words a subtle directive rather than a question.

Sunday hesitates, torn between his loyalty to Gopher and the unspoken bond he once shared with you. "I... I understand," he murmurs finally, his gaze dropping to the ground.

Gopher places a reassuring hand on Sunday's shoulder, a gesture that seems almost paternal in its intent. "Good," he says firmly. "Stay focused, Sunday. We have important work ahead of us."

With a final nod, Gopher guides Sunday away, leaving you standing alone in the garden, feeling the weight of his influence like a heavy cloak.

Gopher's shadow will forever cast its darkness over Sunday's heart and mind.

As you immerse yourself deeper into the labyrinth of tasks your father assigns, a rare moment of respite comes unexpectedly. One evening, as you pass by your father's study, intent on completing yet another set of documents, you catch fragments of a conversation drifting through the slightly ajar door.

"...must ensure she doesn't interfere," your father's voice is clipped, a hint of frustration seeping through his usually composed demeanor.

"But sir, she's just a child," comes the voice of a hesitant servant, his tone wavering with concern.

"Her influence is dangerous," your father retorts sharply. "I cannot afford any distractions. Do as I say."

You can't remember anything after that. You and Sunday grew distanced. Even if he tried to talk.

Your father told it's not worth...Because...why? you didn't care.

Suddenly you saw yourself, Your clothes covered in blood.....

"S-Sunday?" you stutter, shock and disbelief rendering you momentarily speechless. The knife in his hand seems to gleam malevolently, its presence an ominous reminder of the darkness that has infiltrated your once serene existence.

Sunday's eyes widen with a mix of panic and resignation as he meets your gaze, the knife trembling in his grasp. His voice is strained, a whisper of desperation barely audible above the rush of blood in your ears.

"I... I didn't want to," he mutters hoarsely, his words laden with unspoken anguish. "But he... he made me..."

The sight of blood sends a shockwave of horror through you, shattering the fragile moment of solace like glass. Instinct takes over as you push Sunday away, the realization of what has transpired hitting you with crushing force.

"No!" you cry out, your voice echoing with disbelief and fear. The metallic tang of blood fills the air, a stark reminder of the violence that has tainted your once peaceful surroundings.

Sunday staggers back, his hands trembling as he stares down at the knife clutched in his grasp. His eyes widen in horror, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as the weight of his actions crashes down upon him.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone," Sunday murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "He... he threatened to keep us apart. He said... he said he'd do worse if I didn't..."

His words hang heavy in the air, the weight of your father's manipulation and control suffocating in their clarity. Fear grips your heart, not just for yourself, but for Sunday as well—the boy caught in the crossfire of forces beyond his control, manipulated and twisted into a tool of violence.

"I didn't know what to do," Sunday continues, his voice trembling with the weight of guilt and shame. "I thought... maybe if I did what he wanted, he'd let us be together again."

"I'm sorry," Sunday pleads, his eyes pleading for forgiveness amidst the tears. "I never wanted this. I just... I couldn't lose you..."

The smile that curls on Sunday's lips sends a chill down your spine, its unsettling nature cutting through the heaviness of the moment. His words hang in the air, laden with a twisted mix of desperation and possessiveness that leaves you feeling trapped, like a prey ensnared in a predator's grasp.

You recoil instinctively, the fear and confusion swirling within you as you struggle to comprehend Sunday's words. The boy you once trusted, now stained by violence and manipulation, stands before you with a smile that feels more like a threat than a gesture of affection.

"S-Sunday," you stammer, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. "You... you don't mean that."

But his smile only widens, the darkness in his gaze betraying a depth of obsession that sends shivers down your spine. "Oh, but I do," he murmurs, his tone laced with a chilling sincerity. "I've always wanted you, and now... now I can have you."

His words hang heavy in the air, suffocating in their implication. You scramble for words, for a way to break free from the suffocating weight of his intentions. This isn't the Sunday you knew, the gentle soul whose kindness once drew you close. This is a stranger, twisted by manipulation and driven by a possessiveness that borders on obsession.

"I won't let you," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with defiance. "I won't let you control me."

But Sunday's smile remains, unyielding in its unsettling allure. "You can't escape me," he whispers, his words a dark promise that reverberates through the shattered remnants of trust and innocence between you.

Sunday's unsettling smile looms in your mind, your surroundings begin to shift and blur, the oppressive atmosphere thickening like a dense fog. You feel an inexplicable pull, a sensation as if countless unseen eyes are scrutinizing your every move. Whispers of the Aeon of Order echo through the air, a cacophony of murmurs that speak of control and submission, seeping into your very being.

"You must submit to the order," the whispers chant in a chilling symphony. "You must follow, you must obey."

A shiver runs down your spine as Sunday steps closer, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of triumph and desperation. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into an embrace that feels more like a cage than a gesture of affection.

In a surge of panic and defiance, you push him away with all your might. "No!" you scream, the word tearing from your throat as you break free from his grasp. You stumble backward, your heart pounding as you turn and flee from the suffocating presence of Sunday and the ever-watchful eyes of the Order.

The corridors of your home blur around you as you run, each step fueled by sheer terror. The whispers of the Order grow louder, the weight of their expectations pressing down on you like a suffocating shroud. You need to escape, to find solace, but every turn seems to lead you deeper into the labyrinth of your worst nightmares.

Suddenly, you stumble upon a scene that stops you in your tracks. Your breath catches in your throat as you come face to face with your mother's lifeless body, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The sight wrenches a guttural sob from your chest, a cry of anguish that reverberates through the empty halls.

"No, no, no," you whisper, your voice breaking as you sink to your knees beside her. The world around you seems to collapse, the weight of your grief and terror threatening to swallow you whole. Tears stream down your face, mingling with the suffocating darkness that envelops you.

But amidst the despair, a spark of determination ignites within you. You can't stay here. You can't let the Order's whispers, or Sunday's twisted affections, consume you. With a trembling resolve, you force yourself to stand, to move forward, to escape the confines of this nightmare.

You run again, your steps fueled by a desperate need for freedom. The whispers and the eyes follow you, but you refuse to look back. You need to find a way out, to break free from the chains of control and fear that bind you.

As you burst through the doors and into the cold night air, you feel a flicker of hope. The darkness of the night is a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside, a reminder that there is still a world beyond the walls of your torment.

You run until your legs give out, collapsing in a hidden grove where the whispers of the Order are but distant echoes. Gasping for breath, you clutch the ground, your tears mixing with the dirt as you vow to find a way to reclaim your life, to escape the shadows that seek to consume you.

[sanjis-moulinrouge]

Sapphire

Sanji x f!reader | +18 | Smut

Summary: Sanji and Reader don't waste time when they are all alone at the Going Merry.

a/n: I tried to keep the romantic vibes <3 Also, I got inspired by a song called Sapphire, so… that’s the primary source for this fiction. Hope you enjoy and comments are welcome.

English is not my first language, so my apologies if something sounds unnatural.

Moonlight bathing him, turning his back to the satellite, the outline of his figure hypnotizes you. His golden hair shines with grace and his sparkling eyes are fixed on you, you can't escape from the intense desire they emanate. Kneeling on the floor with the chin held on the surface of the bed, he is contemplating your entire self while your body is comfortably lying on bed facing up the moon. In his hand, a cigarette. The chef is so enthralled by you that the smoke is leaking through the window.

The sky is starry, the silence is broken at times by the waves. 

“We're all alone… together here dear” he whispers “completely alone… finally.” 

The fragrance of love in the room got you already craving for him. Sanji never gets tired of romance, you both enjoy the preamble and can be in that game for hours. 

Once the cigarette is out, he begins to crawl into bed, the prince of the night making the first moves. The atmosphere provided by the moonlight highlights parts of his body, his rolled-up shirt makes the veins in his arms stand out as he gets closer.

Gently he uncovers your legs and begins to caress them as if they were the most sacred thing before his eyes. 

“My queen,” he purrs as he slides his fingers in your thighs. The tension grows.

“I've waited for time alone for weeks. I think I'll die,” he confesses, frowning as he takes a long sigh.

He spreads his long legs to sit on top of you, placing your legs between his. Sliding both hands along your legs, massaging your calves and thighs, he squeezes them cautiously. His splendid hands made you feel a fervent need to place his fingers on your spot, but you wanted this moment to endure a bit longer.

“A-ah Sanji” you gasp “more, please.” As he pays attention to your call he smiles effusively.

His hands move to your lower stomach and pubis in circular motions. He loves to feel you getting ready, moistened.

He went slowly because he didn’t want to take your panties and shirt off yet. He wanted to touch your body first, every inch of it. That was a huge turn on for him, watching your body burst with desire. 

As you moan, he blushes and his shirt starts to get damp. His hands go up to hold your breasts, as he strokes them your pulse speeds up. “Oh darling, please” you beg. 

“You seem to be in a hurry, sweetheart,” he replies. “Let me… taste those curves with my hands first, precious.”

You could feel how hard he was and your eagerness to caress his crotch was tantalizing.

“Oh, honey” he groans while noticing your excitement.

He gets closer to give you soft kisses, first on your forehead and nose until finally your lips meet. “The night is young, you have to be patient. Remember who’s the one dying for this?”

You couldn’t contain a giggle… “We’re both craving for this, sweet prince.” 

For Sanji it's still hard to believe how you desire him. He is always worshiping you, day and night, no matter the context. But when you expose your yearning with your body language and words, it is the end for him. Acknowledging that the devotion is mutual is like bringing heaven down to earth.

“Ma chérie,” his trembling voice exposed his hunger. Unable to contain himself anymore, he sinks his face into your neck, slightly biting your earlobe, tracing a path with kisses to your shoulder.

As you weave your lips together, you unbutton his shirt and brush his chest softly. Undressing him while watching his muscles contract always makes you go mad.

“Touch me, please” he whines, pulling aside his pants alongside his boxers.

You have the most privileged view, now he moves his body closer, your hips are between his legs, having full access to his erection. Stroking his solid thighs, you bring your hands closer to his member, rubbing his head.

Sanji took his time to observe your motions for a while, your hands move delicately as the pace starts to accelerate, it is an exquisite torture. Breathless and feverish, he holds your hands to speed up the rhythm, he convulses and moans, before he could reach his climax, you set him free, releasing small precum drops.

“We are not done yet, my love,” you murmur.

Moving aside, he doesn’t give you time to take control of the situation, throwing himself next to you, he starts to tap your spot passionately. “You're so wet, y/n,” he utters fondly in your ear.

Removing your panties, his fingers move between the damp lips of your pussy, rubbing your swollen clit. As he plays with the pace, you feel his hard cock pressed near your hips. You love when he spoons you, so you push and squeeze his waist towards you. The circular motions on your clit make your back arch and whine, he adores to observe your reactions, shockwaves down your spine, your body bursts into an orgasm.

“Let me get inside,” his fingers move to your entrance, putting them slowly inside you until he comfortably reaches your sweet spot. Your body was still shaking with the first orgasm. “A-ah,” you grunt. Raising his fingers, thrusting them up, you start feeling his fingertips rubbing inside and staying consistent.

“Please…” you whisper. “Please go faster.” Sanji’s pulse quickens. His fingers go faster than before and you moan while breathing heavily. Sounds echo in the room, and now the extreme thrusts and sounds of your luscious insides bring on another orgasm quickly.

“Oh my…” you say as your body releases its tension. Sanji could feel the heat and moisture coming off from your spot as he pulled out his fingers slowly.

Your body pulses, going numb with pleasure as tiny moans escape your vocal cords, he hold them back as if they are the most precious sound.

“Are you ok, y/n.” he asks. You look for his face quickly to capture his lips, biting and sucking them, flicking your tongues against each other, groaning. Your bodies tangle, seeking and stealing all the desire.

In a frantic impulse, you switch position, sitting on his lap. “My love, let me watch you move on me…” he gasps. You wanted to give him back all the love and pleasure he previously offered you. 

Looking down at him with a lustful stare, you start to adjust yourself into his erection. As he gets fully into yourself, you start to ride him at a slow pace. His hands grip your hips, the warmth inside your walls gives you goosebumps.

“Shit”, Sanji babbles as you bounce continuously. “My love” you cry when he grips even harder and sinks you down on his cock again and again. 

Holding hands, you start to swing faster, creating an electric friction. “So good, y/n” he mumbles. Scattering sweat, sparkling, you lean down to kiss him, your tongues clash. 

“A-ah” wrapping his hands around your waist, moaning loudly, you feel his orgasm forming.

Piercing himself deeply into you, making the last motions, you climax together. 

Ecstatic, you kiss and taste each other as you find a comfortable place next to him. 

Resting your head on the pillow and facing his lovely profile, you see him trying to catch his breath.

“You make my heart go crazy… I feel so alive, dear” his sapphire eyes gleamed with the moonlight while raising his neck slightly to meet your gaze, pouring his exhausted body onto you, he embraces you to warmly say good night.

[arnaerr]

The more I think about the Elden Ring DLC after my second playthrough of it the more I hate that I noticed too many things that frustrate me in the lore. Not to be a hater on main but I feel the urge to note these down to think about it more later.

- the whole radahn situation. the fight design and the fact that it's the boss we've fought already sucks bonkers. But the fact that it lacks a proper buildup in a narrative and feels random as fuck is what really frustrates me. Feels like retconing. Am I watching Bleach again? Why tf the character who was dead and whose story had an ending is bringed back. The war festival felt like an ending to his plotline and it was fitting. "Miquella saw kindness in him" in a WARLORD?

- Miquella's actions make no sense. Why to bring a bunch of people into the Lands of Shadow. Why charm them if he planned to discard his great rune anyway. These people are not helping. They're just confused. And it's not like Miquella needed help in the first place? What's the point of crosses. Why are they in random places. Why is the one in the Shadow Keep and everyone there is ok with it. If the crosses are in random places bc Miquellla was travelling and searching for the truth about Marika, why is there no cross in the Shaman Village then 💀 it would make sense especially given all the parallels between Marika's and Miquella's ascension.

- if Miquella was obsessed with Radahn all this time he feels not very smart to say the least. Like, the whole scheme of counting on someone to find Mohg and kill him - what are the odds someone would do that. Why cocooning himself in the Haligtree. Why not to help his sister after she nuked Caelid. How did Malenia miss Miquella's kidnap or she knew about the scheme all along. Idk

- what exactly is a Scadutree. "Scadutree is the shadow of the Erdtree". Ok thanks

- the perfumers are growing minor erdtrees in two places DLC and one of them is the Shadow Keep and there's no lore behind it thanks for nothing I guess. When I discovered it, it felt important af 😭

- Torrent? Why the official art showed us that he belonged to Miquella. I hoped to learn more

- love how we use the kindling to burn down the sealing tree only to find out that other Miquella's followers got there before us somehow. Messmer is rolling in his grave

- I wish there was more Godwyn lore. Now the whole Castle Sol situation feels stupid and makes no sense, the mausoleums, etc.

- Romina. I know everyone adores her design but she's so lacking of context to me that I can't really like her. Who is she, what is she doing there why is she guarding the entrance to endgame area.

My main problem with the dlc lore is that I always liked how Fromsoft kept this balance of known/unknown - they gave us little info but enough to be INTRIGUED and speculate further. And as with dlc lore...some of this stuff is so random and has no ties to the things we already know about - too much of unknown - that i don't want to even invest my thoughts into trying to figure this stuff out bc I know that I won't come even close to the truth.

But still the best game I've played this year, 12/10, will replay 10 times, love it

[lawofangie]

I need some advice

Our 3D is just a reflection of our assumption and I have proven it to myself and have seen few evidence of it too like I yesterday manifested brownies

But I couldn't manifest being in void from past 3 months almost and this is frustrating me a lot now I don't know why but I am like yeah I will be in void but whenever I assume that I am going to get in it on this day or like that I just couldn't belive myself that it is happening or will happen and I just need some genuine advice

I ha,ve manifested shit even after reacting to 3D in 4 days but this is getting on my nerves and I need some advice

By The way read your story and it is inspiring and the things happen to you were not what you deserved but am happy for you still

Bye

i've never understood why you guys care so much about that stupid void stuff. it's not the end all be all of manifestation, it's just a fucking method, like affirming, visualizing, scripting, SATS, etc. it means nothing. i truly do not understand the craze, the hype, watching people post about it and people try their hardest to get in such a state feels like watching the blind lead the blind.

if the void state isn't working for you, then just give up? no method has more significance than another, no matter what you do, the end goal is assuming you have something and it materializing. what does the void state have to do with any of that? why do you care so much?

what does the void state have to do with you achieving your dream body, your sp, money, clear skin, your dream house, dream job, what does the void state itself have to do with any of that? what is the law of assumption even about? do you even remember at this point?

the reason why you can't get into that void thing is because manifesting is about assuming, which is believing something to be true before seeing it with your own eyes (which is similar to a prediction). if you wait expectantly for something to happen, you aren't making an assumption. plain and simple. waiting for something to happen every night for 3 months defeats the purpose of making an assumption.. because waiting for something to be true, again, isn't assuming. you're supposed to already decide that it is.

i really don't know how else to put it. it just gets to a point where you guys don't even understand what you're doing anymore. if a method (a way of doing something) isn't working for you, then simply try something else? i honestly don't understand why this thought hasn't crossed your mind on your own.

in any other context, would this make any sense? you keep doing something that obviously isn't working for you until it somehow works for you, even though you already know it doesn't or it's taking too long? wouldn't it make more sense to just find another way?

this is the issue. you guys put this thing on a pedestal as if it means something, when just like any other method, it's just a way of doing something. that's all a method is, a way of doing something in order to achieve something. the purpose of using a method is to help you achieve something. so i truly don't understand why you've been trying and failing to use a method for 3 entire months. what significance does the void state truly have to occupy so much of your time? how is this more special than any other method?

and once you reach the void, what then? is it really worth stressing yourself out every night when people are literally manifesting their desires overnight by simply deciding they have them? while you've been waiting for a stupid method to work for you for the past 3 months? you are TRULY wasting your time.

you clearly are already understanding the law and proving it to yourself, so why not just keep doing that? if you've already found what works, then why are you changing? i don't get it. what do you gain in the end?

[aquamarine-oceanfront]

On Charlotte (Bunny Maloney)

I've been thinking a lot about her because I think there's an undercurrent of sadness to her as a character. She's undeniably got a number of significant flaws, but at her core I don't think she's a bad person like a lot of the cast (especially Bunny & Candy). Below is a lengthy analysis of her character - there's a very short summary at the end if you're curious but pressed for time.

One of the biggest reasons why I got on this train of thought in the first place was when Méko explained why she's such a shameless flirt:

She is looking for a real lasting relationship but her (low) criteria and the means she uses are of course confusing a lot. She's just stressed as she approaches thirty, seeing all her friends already settled...

Which certainly paints her fixation on romance in a different light, I'd say. She longs for connections but has no idea how to properly find or maintain them.

Obviously her carrying a torch for a man who's already taken isn't a good thing, but I think it's worth noting that both he and his girlfriend aren't particularly faithful to each other - to say nothing of the many other problems with their relationship.

Speaking of which: if you watch the show for a while, at some point I imagine you'll think to yourself "why are Candy & Charlotte friends?" Charlotte generally means well and tries her best to be supportive, but her foibles tend to make her a less-than-ideal companion to Candy:

Repeatedly trying to comfort her but inadvertently making her feel worse ("A Wrinkle in the ProtecTeam" & "Free Potchi" at minimum)

Promising to hear her out when she's going through another turbulent period with Bunny, only to flake the moment she learns Jean-François is nearby ("Jean-François: Super Model")

Occasionally just getting downright selfish (refusing to lend her a copy of a book in "Bunnies Are From Mars," getting into an argument while driving in "Raucous Caucus")

Of course, the other side of the coin is that Candy consistently thinks very little of Charlotte - she views the prospect of pairing her up with Stan as a terrible fate to inflict on him ("Stan's Perfect Match"), sometimes insults her to her face ("The D-FixItUp" & "Raucous Caucus" again), and rarely seems to really enjoy being around her. (Contrast with Charlotte, who always takes the time to talk to her whenever they happen to run into each other and tries to help her whenever she needs it.)

So why does Charlotte still stand by her? Frankly, I think much of it stems from her general lack of awareness. She tends to take things at face value and has difficulty discerning context in many situations (the pseudo-"who's on first" bit when she first enters the apartment in "Carrots Are a Girl's Best Friend" is a standout example), so I suspect she thinks Candy is a good friend just because she's occasionally nice and helpful. "Fishing for Trouble" provides the perfect case study of this: while pressed for time, Candy reluctantly hears Charlotte's relationship woes out and gives her a piece of advice ("dump him before he can dump you") that she earnestly appreciates.

"You always have the answer for everything!"

In short: I think Candy kind of does the bare minimum to help her when she's in need, and Charlotte gloms onto her for that. (Ironically, at times I feel like this is how Bunny & Candy's relationship works, but that's another story.)

With all that established, I think there's another reason why Charlotte is so devoted to Candy: she's desperate for any sort of relationship, platonic and romantic alike. Nothing really suggests she has many/any other friends - while this likely stems from economical animation practices (can't make too many unique character models, after all), it tracks with the only mention of her upbringing, midway through "Free Potchi:"

It's a joke, sure, but it's also canonical evidence that her parents didn't really like her or treat her well. With that in mind, it tracks that she'd obsessively try to find love as an adult - on some subconscious level, there's a void she yearns to fill. To some degree, it also explains why she struggles so much with maintaining long-term romance: she never really learned how to (Part of me wonders if some of her other flaws, like her inability to ever discern context or her occasional selfish outbursts, might also be explainable in the same light, but I may be stretching too much there.)

To cap this off, I think it's worth on one particular trait of hers: her complete sincerity. No matter what, she always states exactly what she thinks - oftentimes without regard for whether it might put off or offend those around her. At the same time, though, it also positions her as a sort of foil for Bunny and Candy, both of whom frequently resort to subterfuge against each other. ("Sick Bunny" is essentially a farce/pseudo-morality play focusing on this exact issue: the rabbits both want to go to a concert that coincides with prior arrangements they made together, try to lie their way out instead of just telling each other what they want, and end up all the poorer for it. It's not a coincidence that Charlotte and Jean-François, both of whom are far more open about their feelings, ultimately go together and have a great time.)

Very short summary: I think Charlotte desires love & friendship so desperately because she largely grew up without it. She's a nice person at her core, even with all her flaws, partially because of her sincerity (like Jean-François). Candy sometimes gives her advice/other help, so Charlotte views her as a treasured friend (even though Candy doesn't seem to care much for her).

[muzzlemouths]

Apologies if this has been asked already, but is there any chance we might get to see what those conversations between sun and moon were like? I just started reading (Don't) Fear the Reaper and now that I know they talk when Sun is quiet, I can't help but wonder what's being said.

When I eventually get around to writing the follow-up fic (which will explore the story from Sun's pov) you'll get to see each and every conversation they had!

Since I'm not sure when that will be (and I have a rough version of what it might look like already written up in my notes) I'll go ahead and drop it here for you to chew on in the meantime :3

This conversation occurs in their personal cabin when y/n first finds out about Moon's existence. I've left the original lines in for context, but they'll be indented so you know what is and isn't internal.

“We?” You watch with growing curiosity as he freezes in place and winces, like he’s just been caught in a lie.

“Sun—”

“I know, I know.”

“Fix it.”

There it is, again. That distant expression like his mind is somewhere else entirely. You aren’t sure if robots are capable of internal monologue, but if they are, his must be pretty intense for the absolutely guilty expression he wears before smothering it with another mocked up smile.  “Me and…Moon,” he answers, voice pitifully small. 

“What are you doing?”

“It’s better to be honest, isn’t it? They’re going to find out eventually.”

“No. No. You’re going to say something you shouldn’t.”

“I can handle myself in a conversation just fine, thank you very much. I have so fa—”

“You don’t know when to shut up.”

His smile falters, eyes panicked like a child being scolded.

Moon. You recognize the name from the conversation with Oscar earlier, how scared he had looked from the mere mention of it. You aren’t entirely sure how to navigate this situation, but if this Moon has everyone up in arms, there must be a good reason for it, right? “Is he…dangerous?” 

“....Well? Am I?”

“Oh, now you want me to talk?”

“Just thought they should know all the grisly details, since you seem keen on being truthful.”

Sun hesitates to answer. He bides his time by tending to your ankle, instead. Carefully drawing your shoe away like a reverse cinderella, then gently turning your ankle in all directions to get a feel for the damage. 

“You’re not being fair.”

“Go on, tell them.”

“I don’t think that’s a good ide—”

“Tell them how I butchered her. How I didn’t stop until her pulse flickered under my hand.”

“Moon—”

“Tell them how much I regret letting go.”

“I—”

“Tell them how often we think about her blood caking our palms. How relieving it felt to finally—”

“It doesn’t feel broken,” he tells you. 

“Don’t ignore me.”

“I think you might have just twisted it. Should be in tip-top shape by morning!” He faces you with that telltale smile once more, only for it to droop significantly when you don’t immediately mirror his relief. It’s not the answer you’re waiting for. 

“Hypocrite.” Moon snarls. “Cornered yourself. Now you’re the animal stuck in a trap.”

“Little rabbit…” he sighs. “You are very, very lucky, you know. This could have been much worse.”

Pebbles climb in your throat, brought on by his words. Each bigger than the last and taking up space where you need to breathe. They rattle with every inhale, collecting in great heaps the longer he fits you with that emotionless stare. You don’t think he’s referring to your ankle, anymore.

“Cruel. Warning a rabbit with one foot already in a trap.”

“They’re smarter than you think.”

“It’s too late to save them.”

“...I know.”

“Then why bother?”

A twig snaps just outside the door, relieving you of his piercing gaze as his neck wrenches to follow it. Just a squirrel.  “Sun, I—” “Anyone can be dangerous,” he whispers, eyes still zeroed in on the animal.

“Caaareful.”

“I told you, it’s better to be honest," Sun's optics twitch ever briefly. "They ought to know it isn’t you they should fear.”