#it gets the tag so I can find it again later

[humanjarvis]

punch

synopsis: caleb teaches you how to punch.

tags: fluff, high school caleb x reader (caleb's like a senior and you're a sophomore), bullying & implied revenge, tension/flirting, size difference word count: 659

a/n: this was supposed to be categorized as a drabble but i got tired of seeing smut smut smut under my caleb fics and i can do what i want. also ayeee we ballin. we fight together (is this reference outdated)

“Again.”

Caleb's command breaks through his heavy breaths, beads of sweat dripping down his face as he circles you. 

The sweltering heat of the closed garage clouds your focus, causing your next jab to fall a few inches short of its bemused target. “Can’t we stop now? Or at least take a little break?” you whine. “You’ve been drilling me for over an hour.” 

A few days earlier, Caleb had left school early for a doctor’s appointment, meaning you’d had to walk home alone. Seizing the rare opportunity, the meanest boys in 10th grade had followed you all the way, shouting jeers and yanking on your braids when they got close enough. 

Two hours later, when Caleb had knocked on your door to ask about your day, your bloodshot eyes were still glistening with tears. Yet somehow, when you mumbled to him what’d happened, he’d been more upset than you were—he’d pressed a kiss to your forehead and gone to shut himself in his room, trembling hands clenched into fists on his way out. 

The morning after, you hadn’t been able to find the bullies in class or anywhere in the halls. Your next sighting wasn't until after lunch that day, when they’d pressed themselves against the walls as you walked past.

Their matching black eyes were the first hint at what’d happened. The hastily scrawled We’re sorry note in your locker was the second. 

Now, with a pitying smirk, Caleb checks the old clock on the wall. “I’ll let you take a break when you land…five hits in a row,” he decides, tilting his head. “Your record’s two so far, pipsqueak. You won’t be scarin’ anyone off like that.” 

With a pout, you drop your gloved hands to rest at your sides. “Isn’t this silly, though? You have us locked away in here because you won’t even tell Gran what you’re up to. Why do I have to secretly learn how to punch when I have you to protect me?” 

In the next five seconds, the same number of expressions crosses his face: shock, pride, guilt, satisfaction, and worry. “You know I’ll always protect you, pips,” he starts solemnly. “But…it’d make me feel a lot better if you at least knew how to break a guy’s jaw. That way, when I get there, I can get to work on the higher-level stuff,” he shrugs with a wink. 

With a poorly suppressed giggle, you squint up at him. “And how do you know how to throw a punch, Caleb?” you ask, brow raised.

“Don’t worry about it. Now, hands up, feet apart,” he instructs, bringing his own fists up to block. 

As you drag yourself back into form, wavering from fatigue, Caleb comes up behind you. Wrapping his much larger hand around your fist, he maneuvers it into the correct position. “Never tuck your thumb into your fist,” he murmurs. “If you hurt yourself tryin’ to punch someone else, I’ll have to hit ‘em twice as hard. Can’t have that.”

As his breath brushes your ear and his words sink in, you have to fight to stop the heat rising to your already sweating face. “What now?”

“Now,” he whispers as he guides you through the movements, “extend your arm straight and snap right back here. Don’t hesitate.” 

Your skin tingles as you move together, and you know you have to break free from him before you embarrass yourself. Flustered, you spin around in his arms to launch a sneak attack, only to end up subdued by Caleb’s far superior strength. 

With your fragile wrists trapped in his hands, he lifts a slightly arched eyebrow. “And never underestimate your opponent,” he advises, a smug lilt in his voice. “Especially if they’re the person who knows you best.”

Looking down at the closeness of your bodies, Caleb swallows thickly and releases your arms. As he circles back around you, a clear order interrupts the heady buzz in your brain. 

“Again.”  

[mybigsnowman]

anything for you

pairing sylus x afab!reader

summary sylus turns up at your apartment after you accidentally text him while in pain

tags second-person pov, sick fic, pre-relationship, pre-friendship too, reader is wary of sylus, uterus related pain, not a period fic, lowkey doctor hate

word count 1.2k

note somewhat of a character study if u really squint and very self indulgent, almost a vent fic, and written about my own pain while I was suffering at the hospital, pre-period cramps are like hell. you can tell how frustrated I am with doctors...

I think I need to go to the hospital.

Sylus assumed that you'd sent the text to the wrong person. He tried calling you to no avail. Twice, three times, the phone rang and rang before going to voicemail. Mephisto’s view was dark, your curtains were drawn shut and if it wasn't for the motorcycle outside he would've assumed you were out. He opened the text again and debated on what to do.

You wouldn't send him this, not now at least, he could tell you were still wary of him. But he couldn't ignore it. He was already close by meeting a buyer in Linkon; it wouldn't take long to check on you, twenty minutes if he speeds – and he does.

When he arrived your curtains were still drawn. A part of him began doubting if you were even home. Maybe you got injured on the job; you didn't always drive yourself to work. It was a possibility he'd think of after checking your apartment. He was calm and rational even in moments of stress, this didn't rattle him. He would find you if you weren't here. He found you before and he'd find you again.

He heard the muffled sound of the television when he reached your door. You were probably home so he tried to knock. Once, twice, three times – there was no answer. So he resorted to what he knew best and destroyed the lock. He'd fix it for you later.

The inside was dark, only the faint glow of the television filled the place. He saw you curled in on yourself with half your face squished down on the couch, and if it wasn't for the sudden shift of your body he would've assumed the worst. 

Before he could get closer, he saw your head move as you turned to face him. You were fine enough to still be alert; whatever pain you were in wasn't deadly.  

You squinted, for a moment not recognising the looming figure in the dark room. But your mind caught up; it could only be one person. “Sylus? What are you doing here?”

“You texted me.”

You tried to push yourself up to look for your phone but grimaced at the sudden movement as another cramp shot through your lower abdomen causing you to inhale sharply. You were taking laboured breaths with every movement.

Sylus finally saw the sweat on your skin, your shirt was stuck to your body. “Let me help you up.”

“You don't need to. I'm fine.” Giving up on sitting, you patted around for your phone. You were certain you hadn't texted him. The last person you were talking to was Tara, you were sure of that. Finally, you found it lodged between the back of the couch and the cushions. Your eyes burned as they adjusted to the sudden brightness.

Sylus watched your face as you unlocked your phone. The bright screen illuminated your features making your tense expression obvious. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to send that to you.”

Although he'd expected it, Sylus still felt wounded that you wouldn't rely on him. But alas, he was here and he would help you. Without asking why you were in pain he spoke up again, “Let me get you to the hospital.”

“You don't need to, I'm fine, really.” You hated the position you were in, the pain had subsided slightly, but you were still vulnerable in front of him. It scared you – he still scared you. You never gave him the pin to your door, he'd clearly broken in. And maybe it was out of worry, or something else, you still couldn't figure out his true intentions when it came to you.

“You don't have to pretend to be strong, sweetie.”

“Why did you even come here? Were you worried about me?”

Sylus couldn't answer. It was a simple yes, he was worried about you, but he could see it in your eyes that you wouldn't believe him. You were already on edge because of the pain.

“Do you like me, Sylus?”

You were relentless. Even while in pain you mocked him with a question you'd asked before – a question he couldn't answer without giving away too much. It was a yes, always a yes. 

But before he could give you a dismissive answer, he heard you groan in pain. 

And before he could get closer to check on you, you dismissed him. “Just get me painkillers. The medicine box is in the kitchen.”

He obeyed you, whatever you wanted. He brought your medicine storage box over with a cup of water after turning the lights on. 

You'd finally managed to sit up, you were still curled in on yourself while sitting. Your hand reached out for the medicine box when he got closer. You rummaged around a bit before finally finding the pill package. You downed two, all the time feeling Sylus’ strong gaze on you. You probably looked like a mess, you'd been crying before you fell asleep.

He finally spoke up again, “Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?”

“There's no point,” you said as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back. “They'll say nothing’s wrong.”

“We’ll go to another hospital then.”

“Do you think I haven't tried?” Your words had more bite to them than you intended, but you were in pain, and still wary of his presence – you couldn't really control it. His need to throw solutions at you like everything was easy if you just tried hard enough was irritating, so you explained it further, trying to convince him how useless these doctors were. “I've gone to ten different clinics. They all say it's normal, just regular pain before my period. Even though I can't breathe or move right. It's stupid.”

Sylus could hear how frustrated you were, you sounded like you had a lump in your throat. 

“Fuck, it really feels like I'm having contractions,” you said with a breathy laugh hoping to dissipate some of the tension, but even that mild action hurt.

“I'll find you a good doctor.”

“I'm sure you will.” Your reply was mocking, and dismissive, but a part of you hoped that he could. Every gynaecologist in Linkon was useless but maybe the N109 zone had someone special, a doctor that wouldn't just say it's anxiety or dismiss your pain altogether; the thought nearly made you laugh. It really would be a feat if Sylus found someone.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, you can leave.” You wanted to thank him but it felt strange.

“I can't. Your lock’s broken.”

You sighed in frustration and rubbed your eyes. “Fix it then.”

“I will, anything for you.”

You hated his tone – always too earnest. He listened to you like a loyal dog sometimes; he listened like he owed you something. 

You'd take advantage of it if he wanted to be this way. “I want to eat something.”

“Tell me what you want.”

He ordered what you demanded of him before asking you where the toolbox was. 

Your eyes lingered on him as he knelt in front of the door, fixing the lock all on his own. He could’ve called someone to do it, it would’ve been easier, he didn’t have to stoop so low for you. Your eyes grew heavier as you watched him work. Your body betrayed your mind; all the wariness you felt towards him wasn’t enough to stop the ease that spread through your limbs. Perhaps subconsciously his presence felt familiar. 

Your eyes closed as your cramps subsided significantly. You felt yourself daze off as the sound of Sylus fixing your lock lulled you to sleep. 

[theodoresdoll]

LOVESICK!

IN WHICH... Theodore Nott, the quiet Slytherin, is sickeningly in love with you.

WARNINGS INCLUDE... fluff, rushed ending, fem pronouns used, fast burn, not following the canon plot of Harry Potter, not proofread, pining, sappiness, awkward and bookworm Theo. + a short nsfw bonus (including cunnilingus and fingering. it’s my first time writing smut, i’ll get better with practice so be nice☹️). mdni.

A WORD FROM THE WRITER... ahhhh!!!! I’m so so excited to post this. I hope you all enjoy reading these hc’s as much as I enjoyed writing them.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP TO 18.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... notices you in the romance aisle of a small bookstore in Hogsmeade. He’d only seen you around the castle a handful of times but never had he spotted you outside of school. You seemed to be scanning over the binds of the books, merely glancing at the titles. Presumably, one had caught your attention, picking it up and briefly looking at the cover before reading the synopsis.

He stands frozen between the bookshelves, analyzing your features. Have you always been this pretty? Nonsense, snap out of it, Nott. You’re here to get a book, not stare at a random girl.

It is only when you suddenly stand in front of him that he is brought back to reality. “Have you read this? Is it any good?” Your voice is as sweet as honey and as soft as silk, and he has to resist a smile.

He glances at the book in your hand, shaking his head, “No, I haven’t. I don't read romance.” He’s partially lying, he much preferred philosophical literature, but he was not above romance.

“Shame. I was hoping for a second opinion.” You frown, “Thanks, anyway.” Turning around, you make your way to the store counter.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... buys the book after you leave out of sheer curiosity.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... reads the book over the next few days, finding the characters’ unbearable cheesiness obscurely endearing.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... goes back to that same bookstore two weeks later, secretly wishing to see you again.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... does see you again, and you look as beautiful as ever. He takes a deep breath, pretending to be looking at books, but in actuality, is slowly and subtly making his way toward you.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... isn’t sure why, but can’t speak when standing in front of you. He freezes, any form of confidence he thought he had before leaving his body.

“Can I help you?” You raise an eyebrow, turning your attention away from the bookshelf.

“Um, no… just—I noticed you were looking at Me Before You, and it’s good, for a muggle book and all.” His voice has a slight tremble, and it’s obvious he’s nervous. He has to oppose the urge to roll his eyes at his awkwardness.

“I thought you didn’t read romance?” Your tone is laced with confusion and tease, a small smirk playing at your lips.

“I do. I do, just not often.” He pauses, “I thought I’d give a second opinion this time since I wasn’t able to last time.”

“Ah. Well, thank you. I suppose I’ll be getting it, then.” You give a closed-mouth, friendly smile that almost makes him melt right there. Almost. You grab the book from the shelf, making eye contact with him once more. “Y/n.” You extend your arm, offering your hand.

“Theodore.” He replies, shaking it politely.

A moment of quiet passes over the two, then, “Your coat is quite nice.”

He falters for a second but regains his composure shortly after, “Oh, thank you. It’s from—” He tries to check the tag on the inside of his sleeve, but it’s to no avail, “Never mind. I think I cut the tag off.”

A giggle escapes your mouth, “I should check out. I’ll see you around, I hope.”

It’s only after the shop’s bell rings, signaling that you left, that he registers your laughter. He made you laugh.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... replays your short conversation in his mind over the week; during mealtimes, lessons, reading, and even while he’s lying down to sleep.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... doesn't realize it, but he had been staring at you during the two classes you had together. And in the halls. And at parties. He refused to acknowledge it, but you had consumed his every thought.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... begins asking Pansy about you.

“Do you know her favorite color?” He mumbles, the sound of his quill scratching ink on his parchment, transferring words from Pansy’s notes to his own.

“Merlin, Theodore. I told you, I’ve talked to her a total of two times. We're not best mates,” She rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair, “If you’d just approach her, you wouldn’t have to ask around. Instead, you insist on being a timid hermit.”

“That's simply not true, I prefer to know a bit about her before talking to her. And I don’t even like her like that.”

Scoffing, she crosses her arms, “Mhm, I’m sure. I guess copying my notes because you were too busy staring at her to pay attention to anything Snape had to say means nothing.”

Theodore lets out an irritated sigh, looking up briefly before bringing his gaze back to his parchment. “Just shut up, will you?”

“Oh, you have a genuine infatuation for this girl, I see. Have you even talked to her more than three times?” Pansy teases, letting out a small snort at her own comment.

“Quiet.” He quickly retorts, his tone dripping in agitation.

The black-haired girl throws her hands up in mock surrender, “Fine.” A moment of silence passes before Pansy speaks again, “But you need to talk to her eventually.”

“Pansy.” He warns, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, okay. I’m done.”

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... finally builds up the courage to talk to you during class. Settling into a seat next to yours, he places his satchel on the ground.

He watches you pull out your stationary, “Do you like potions?”

“Sorry?” You look at him, leaning in slightly so you can hear him a bit better.

“Do you like potions?” He repeats, mirroring you.

You shrug, “Does anyone like potions? I mean—it’s not the worst, but it's certainly not my favorite.”

A small smile pulls at his lips, but before he could respond, Professor Snape silences the class, beginning the lecture.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... plops down on his bed after the day finally wears, running a hand over his face with a frustrated groan.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... hears Mattheo sigh exasperatedly, “Gods, just speak to her.”

“I did, and I was interrupted by Snape.” His forearm rests over his eyes, “Maybe I should just stop. It’s clearly never going to work.”

“Nonsense.” Mattheo gets up from the couch in their shared dorm, marking his page in his textbook. “Invite her to one of your father’s Galas or something of the sort.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Then I will for you,” Mattheo states plainly.

“No, you won’t.” He sits up, “I’d look pathetic.”

“You are pathetic.”

Theodore rolls his eyes, throwing a pillow at the man.

“Ow!” He exclaims exaggeratedly, rubbing his arm.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... is pressured by Mattheo to ask you to his father’s upcoming business Gala, his hands slightly sweaty as he approaches you in the halls.

“Hi.” He whispers, falling into step beside you.

“Hey.” You smile, your textbooks clasped in your arms.

“So, uh… are you doing anything this weekend?” He asks, his voice barely audible.

“Not really. Why?” You respond, your tone is slightly tinted with confusion.

He hesitates to speak, his fingers painfully digging into his palms, “My father is having a Gala to celebrate his—it doesn’t matter. Um, would you come with me?”

“Wow. That’s a big ask.” Your eyes widen, “Like a date?”

“Yeah, I guess. Obviously, you don’t have to, you can say no.” His voice heavy with nervousness, taking his bottom lip between his teeth, and chewing on it anxiously.

“No—no, I’ll go with you. I was just taken by surprise, is all.” You reassure, putting your hand on his arm and pausing your walk, a futile attempt to cool his nerves.

“Oh, okay.” He nods, “Okay. Yeah, I’ll come by your dorm on Sunday.”

You mimic his nod, grabbing his hand, pulling a quill out of your satchel that has excess ink on it, and writing your dorm number gently. “I’ll see you Sunday, then.”

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... does, in fact, see you on Sunday, taking in your figure in a white, elegant gown with lace detail.

He stands still with his mouth agape for a moment, swallowing harshly, “You look… You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. I hope this is appropriate, you didn’t specify a dress code so I just kind of guessed.” You shrug, grabbing your hand purse.

“No—no, you’re perfect.” He straightens his tuxedo, clears his throat, and realizes what he said, “I meant your dress, by the way. Not—”

“You’re like a frightened cat,” You joke, collecting a few items and putting them into the bag, your sheer shawl falling slightly, “It’s cute.”

Theodore swallows harshly when you link your arm with his, offering a reassuring look.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... arrives with you on his arm, greeting his friends and kindly introducing you to them, despite their previous knowledge of you from his relentless rants.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... nervously presents you to your father, his father patting him on the back and whispering something inaudible to you.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... gains confidence as the night wears on, getting to know you further.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... walks you back to your dorm after the evening ends, his hand in yours.

“I had fun tonight.” You smile up at him, pausing in front of your door.

“Yeah?” He whispers in consideration of your dormmates sleeping inside.

“Yeah,” You affirm, “We should do it again sometime.”

“We should.” He agrees.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Leaning in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight.”

Before he can react, you depart into your dorm, closing the door quietly behind you.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... does follow up with you the next day, planning your next date.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... takes you to a fancy dinner for your second date. Then, a third. Fourth.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... asks you to be his girlfriend on the sixth date, to which you say yes.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... notices the slow progression of your relationship: sitting next to you and passing notes in class, his hand resting on your thigh at mealtimes, your head leaning on his shoulder during study sessions.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... would buy you the moon if he could. Literally. He buys you anything and everything you even glance at.

♡ nsfw bonus.

LOVESICK!THEODORE WHO... tries so hard—so unbelievably hard to keep things strictly chaste, not wanting to rush you. But the chastity quickly fades when you spend the night at his dorm, his roommates gone for the night. You sit atop him, straddling him as your lips move against his.

Pulling away, his breath ragged, “Wait—I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do.”

“No,” you shake your head, “I want to.”

“You’re sure?” His hand squeezes your thigh gently.

“Yes. Yeah. I’m sure.” You nod, shifting uncomfortably against him due to the growing wet spot on your panties.

“Fuck—fuck, okay. Lay on your back f’me.” He mumbles, watching you sink into the mattress beside him.

Hovering over you, he places a soft kiss on your lips. His hand wanders down your body, slipping below your shorts, the only barrier between your cunt and his hand being the thin fabric of your underwear. A smirk appears on his face when you instinctively buck your hips into his palm.

“So needy, huh?” He drawls teasingly, circling your clothed clit with his fingers.

“Please, Theo. Need you, please.” You whimper, arching your back slightly.

He hums, hooking his fingers on the waistband of your shorts, “Lift your hips and spread your legs, sweetheart.”

In a swift motion, he pulls both your shorts and underclothing down to your knees. Looking up at you with hooded eyes, Theodore slowly attaches his lips to your sensitive clit, sucking gently. His actions earn a soft, quiet gasp from you.

Your hand moves to his head, pulling at his locks delicately. His tongue works diligently, feeling your thighs squeeze his head lightly.

“Gods, you taste you good.” He mutters, your head throwing back as you moan. You subconsciously grind against his mouth and he places a firm hand on your lower stomach to still you in response, “Stop.”

“Can’t help it,” You nearly whine, your fingers gripping his hair tighter.

“I know, but just try, baby.” He hums, his tongue continuing its work. He brings his index and middle finger to your lips, “Suck.”

He feels you take his digits into your mouth, your tongue tracing them. When he’s satisfied, he pulls them out with a pop. Slowly, he sinks his fingers into your cunt, his lips still attached to your clit.

“Fuck,” You pant, his fingers curling inside of you. Then, he gradually pistons his fingers in and out.

He detaches his mouth, going up to kiss you, his hands still laboring to please you. He pulls away, his forehead resting on yours, “You taste yourself?”

You nod, not verbalizing.

“Words, baby. I need words.” His fingers never relent.

“Yeah,” You moan, your breath quickening.

“There you go, love. Good job.” He smiles, feeling you clench around his fingers, “Shit—I can feel you—cum for me.”

With that, you release, a loud whimper leaving your mouth. He slowly pulling out, your legs shaking.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Theodore whispers, pressing a quick kiss into your lips before disappearing into the bathroom. He emerges just moments later with a rag in hand, approaching you.

“You really don’t have to,” You sigh, smiling kindly at him.

“I really do.” He retorts, bringing the damp cloth to your inner thigh and cleaning you up.

Once he finishes, he throws the washrag on the ground. “And you dare to question why your dorm is cluttered.”

“Oh, be quiet.” He playfully jabs, settling beside you.

You roll your eyes, placing a last peck on his lips before resting your head on his chest, “Goodnight.”

He turns the lamp that resides on his bedside table off, engulfing the two of you in complete darkness, “Goodnight, lovely.”

♡ feel free to send requests.

♡ reblogs are appreciated but not necessary.

[sleepyjackets]

let's get you that milkshake🥤

summary: rafe and you hate eachother but one late night in your dads diner something shifts (or so you thought)

pairings: season 1 rafe cameron x reader

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, public sex, swearing, fem!reader, edging (kinda???)

you and rafe loathe each other to no end. ever since that prick and all his kook friends trashed your dads restaurant you couldn't keep the idea of socking a punch into his pretty face outta your mind. you assumed this beef of yours was one sided but apparently not. everytime you and rafe are anywhere near eachother you catch him staring. rather those are hateful stares or something more you can't quite tell.

you're cleaning up around the golf corses him and his squad of pricks frequent when you hear something all too familiar.

"come clean up this shit pogue!" one of his friends yells across the field with not an ounce of shame in his voice. you look down to find a milkshake spilled all over grass and sidewalk with a sticky golf ball meeting it's halt in the mess

typically, you’d ignore this kinda thing but you've grown all too irritated lately for other reasons so you make your way over. but your pursuit is stopped when you hear

"come on are you guys 8 clean up your goddamn mess." rafe says lifting his hand over his eyes to shield his face from the suns harsh rays.

"when you do stupid shit like this it makes me look bad" he puts his hand on his friends shoulder and laughs.

rafe must've saw you staring in disbelief because he scoffs "you want a picture or something little miss pogue?"

little miss pogue

you hated that name almost as much as you hated rafe. him and his friends made that name for you after your dad started hanging up your old pagent photos in his restaurant.

"in your goddamn dreams prick" you bite back starting to walk away.

"more like nightmares."

you hear it. you say not one word.

about a week later you're closing up the restaurant when rafe walks in alone and spots you. his eyes stay on you for longer than necessary before he walks up to the counter.

"can i just have a milkshake?" rafe asks very obviously trying not to look at you.

small detail. that day you were wearing a low cut shirt and you purposely left your hair up too just for emphasis. you didn't really love attention but it felt good to look good. you also sure as hell didn't expect to have rafe cameron tripping over himself at the sight of your cleavage. god did it feel intoxicating.

"we're actually closed i just didn't lock the door. what are you doing on this side of town anyways don't you have a maid who could just make you a milkshake?" you add in a little lip bite in between your sentences and lean forward a little. it's not like you really knew how to flirt but you know you were doing something and it was working on him. again it was so intoxicating watching the guy who's been terrorizing you for months finally stutter over his words at the sight of you. you had power and god were you into this way more than you should be.

"so you can't even do your goddamn job" he snaps back but it's obvious he was just compensating for the fact that he knew you knew he was tripping over himself

"instead of being an ass why don't you come to the back i can get you something else." again absolutely intoxicating.

"in your fucking dreams little miss pogue." he stuttered

i smirk crossed across your face and you forward a little. "oh really?"

"yeah really." he says crossing his arms.

you grab a cup from the side of your counter and mutter.

"let's get you that milkshake then?"

when he meets you in the back you quickly grab his perfectly ironed shirt collar and pull him in for a sloppy kiss. his hands grip onto your waist like a goddamn lifeline and you let out a small moan into his mouth. rafe sits you up on the counter and keep kissing you while one of his hands roams up to cup your tit.

"bathroom." he says in between kissing your lips.

as you move to pull away rafe grips onto you harder and you're able to wrap your legs around his hips.

you barely make it to that bathroom before you're both clawing at the tight fabrics restricting you from skin on skin contact.

when you're both stripped down rafe props your beautiful body up on the wall and starts trusting. which each movement a moan creeps out of your mouth and you just instinctively quiet down a little.

"your noises are so goddamn pretty" he says in between latching his lips onto your neck and upper chest. his fingers gently curl around your nipple and you let out another moan. "yeah tell me when you're cumming baby"

you start to feel a warm rise in your stomach and mumble out

"fuck rafe i'm coming!"

then he stops.

it takes you a bit to even register what this asshole just did but once you fully open you eyes and look around you come to the realization and just look up to see rafe gently setting you on your feet and smiling like that was nothing. rafe starts walking out once his clothes are back on but stops. you think your getting an apology maybe even a second round but your fantasy is broken when he says all smug

"i still want that milkshake little miss pogue"

[altacctforastarion]

Hi I was wondering if I could request just some soft hcs of astarion and tav like waking tav up with burnt breakfast or tav surprising astarion with some fresh blood they got from god knows where. Basically just some sfw of them post elderbrain

Hey! Thanks for requesting, this one was so fun!

Warnings: spoilers, he sucks at cooking and watches you sleep lmao. Sfw, 18+ and mdni still because my page, works, and myself are for adults only.

Tag list: @astari0nsju1ceb0x @obsessionprofessional @lotus-ignis

- I think it starts before the elderbrain tbh. Like you wake up and he’s just laying there watching you, a dagger in his hand like he’s been waiting so he can protect you, but he just greets with a smile and a soft, “good morning, love. How did you sleep?”

- maybe he gets your breakfast on a plate before you’re even out of the tent. Maybe he sets out clothes for you, helps you put on any armor you may have. He keeps your weapons sharp for you.

- But then the world doesn’t end, and the two of you live together and you wake up to the smell of food burning, sitting up quickly and rushing to the kitchen, only to see it in disarray and a huffy Astarion standing right in the middle, angrily whispering at the charred food in front of him, blaming it for his failures.

- “Well, you would have had a nice breakfast, but it decided to burn.” He says, hissing out the word “it” and you’re sure the misshapen, burnt pancakes are quaking from his rage, “So maybe you cook something?”

- he keeps trying to cook. Eventually you convince him to just get ingredients ready and set out for you and you cook instead. Sometimes he gets in a mood and demands to help, and you have to give him constant instructions, watching his every move and even then it still goes wrong. Two hundred years of never having to touch normal food, only eating it to pretend to be alive and not a vampire, have left him with barely any recollection of how to cook.

- Other times, you wake up and he’s watching you again, sometimes playing with your hair, sometimes close enough that when you wake all you can see are his eyes and you nearly fly out of your skin.

- Sometimes you wake up and he’s no where to be seen, you don’t hear him in the kitchen, and you’ll eventually find him doing some chore you hate or have been putting off.

- I put this in multiple other works of mine, but honestly I take him saying “don’t be so nice to me, it makes me want to be nice back.” As a real thing that he means, in an acts of service kind of way. I think even when he gets comfortable sharing his feelings and caring for you and acknowledging that he’s changed, it’s easier to do a nice thing for you without saying anything. You’re a great partner, his favorite person, and no matter what you say or what you do, he will feel like he needs to do something to show his appreciation. I think early on it’s so he doesn’t feel like he owes you something, terrified of letting you be kind and being in your debt, but later it’s just a way he shows he cares. So depending on how the day before goes, he might feel this urge to do something for you in the morning, beyond just wanting to.

- that being said, I think if he’s doing a “dirty” chore, it’s because you did something that meant a lot to him. One night he talks about how the things that happened are effecting him now, long after it’s all said and done, and you’re so kind and understanding and gentle. So the next morning you wake up and he’s washed all of the dishes, the house is spotless, and he’s urging you to go fill a basin with water so he can wash all of your (specifically your) clothes.

- if you have a favorite mug it’s always clean and he never says a word about it.

- he mends your clothes. Sometimes you wake up and there he is, stitching up your clothes and sometimes embroidering them. It’s always a surprise, you don’t always see him work but if he’s embroidering he won’t let you look at it, it’s to find on your own.

- I think he does a lot during the night, he doesn’t really need sleep and if the two of you don’t go to sleep in each others arms he wanders.

- If you don’t like to talk to others he will do it for you, and if someone is even kind of rude to you he will flip out on them

—

- You surprise him with blood occasionally. Sometimes yours if you don’t have time to let him feed from you, sometimes someone else’s. You are a person who saved the world, who fought for their life constantly, after all, and those skills don’t go away because there’s less danger. Some days you find a criminal and think “ooh, a snack for Astarion”, and then kill the guy and fill up whatever you can to take to him.

- You start keeping vials and jars on your person for such occasions, just in case you find a not so willing donor that will feed your partner.

- It surprises him the first few times, waking up to you speaking softly, saying good morning and saying you got him breakfast. He looks at you, confused, about to remind you that he doesn’t eat food when he sees/smells a jar of blood in your hand. “…Darling? Whose blood is that?”

- He sips on his blood while you explain that you saw a man trying to steal purses and lured him into an alley to kill him before buying some jars and draining him. There’s more blood downstairs if he’s still hungry. It makes him very happy, but he does look at you strange for a moment because wtf do you do when he’s not there to stop you?!

- You handle the washing around the house usually, because he hates it. If you’re not in the Underdark and you have a yard, you are responsible for yard care lol, he is not doing it.

- You pick up random shit from stores for him, sometimes stealing just so he can tell you how proud he is (he is always very proud). Sometimes a new dagger, sometimes a fun trinket, occasionally jewelry

- I think if you got him a stuffed animal he would pretend to hate it but that thing would stay in your shared bed constantly. Maybe you come home and he’s asleep cuddled up with it.

- You let him handle the decorating for the most part, just because it makes him genuinely happy to design the house, and he asks for your input constantly anyways.

- You search for a way for him to go into the sun, but on the mean time he starts using umbrellas and such to go out with you, and you find him various pretty ones. You also get him a cloak, and he looks amazing in it, matching it to his outfits, putting on a borderline fashion show for you.

- I think astarion is materialistic bc he didn’t have a lot, so he hoards things for both of you and is DELIGHTED with every gift you give him, adding it to the hoard happily and giving you many kisses.

[ellswritings]

My Hero

CM Punk (Phil Brooks) x Reader

TW: Drinking, handsy dude who follows reader out of the bar, violence, foul language, Phil being extra protective, silly misunderstandings, mutual pining. I think that’s it.

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Part of Y/N wishes she had listened to Phil. Actually, all of Y/N wishes she had listened to him. Maybe if she had just been content with sitting at the hotel watching movies with him for the night, she wouldn’t be in this situation.

Demi and a couple of the other girls wanted to go out the night before their big show tomorrow. Phoenix Arizona wasn’t necessarily their favorite place to be, but it still had its perks. They all agreed not to get hammered or anything as they had to be up bright and early, but it was really the only time they had to themselves as they had only landed earlier that morning.

The bar itself was nice. It was only a five minute walk from the hotel, practically right down the street which made it convenient to walk to. The inside was well-furnished, feeling more like a speakeasy rather than a bar. It was a nice find. Not that any of them were surprised. The hotel the company got for them was on the higher end of the monetary spectrum as well.

Phil knew she had plans to go out with the girls later that night, but something in him just didn’t set right at the thought of her out so late. He’s always been rather protective of Y/N, having known her since she debuted at AEW in 2022 before getting poached by WWE the following year.

He’s seen her grow into the phenomenon she is today. They’ve only known each other for a few years, but she quickly became someone he relied on. Which speaks volumes as Phil has never been one to rely on anyone. But something is different about her. The way her smile easily lit up a room, or the way her laugh could brighten even the worst of days for anyone. It made him fiercely protective of her.

So the moment that uneasy feeling rose in his chest, he tried to suggest that she stay in with him. That they could hang out in his room and watch movies like they usually do when they’re in a city for more than two days. But since this trip was supposed to be short, she was adamant about going out before having to hop on another flight.

He understood, and he would never force her to do something she didn’t want to, but it didn’t ease that gnawing feeling in his gut. He tried again to get her to stay right before Demi came to get her, but all he got was a small scoff and a teasing remark about how just because he couldn’t stay up past midnight doesn’t mean she couldn’t.

Phil could feel himself becoming anxious at the thought of her being out. It frustrated him. He didn’t get anxious ever, especially over people. The only time he ever got even remotely close to anxious is when Larry ate the tab of his Pepsi can when it fell on the floor.

But he didn’t want to push the subject any further. She was a big girl. She could handle herself. That’s what he told himself. He’s seen her kick some serious ass in their time of being friends, so he knows what she’s capable of.

But even that didn’t soothe his mind.

So in order to preoccupy himself, he turned on some mind-numbing movie to fill the quiet space that is his hotel room as he patiently waits to get the text that she and the girls made it back to the hotel after their outing.

While the night started out lively and fun, funny stories, shots, and laughs being shared between friends, Y/N slowly started realizing how truly exhausted she was. Perhaps it is the fact she spends most of her time with Phil who is an old man at heart. The thought of him already laying in his bed in pajamas at ten-forty five makes her smile. Maybe it’s his fault she’s now having a hard time living it up. Not that she minds. Hence why now she’s secretly longing for the other girls to tire out so she can catch the tail end of whatever crap movie he managed to find on the hotel television.

Demi notices the small yet distant smile on her friend's face. She smirks, nudging her, “What’s got you all smitten?” She asks with a teasing edge, her accent sounding like velvet to anyone with ears.

Y/N snaps back into reality, suddenly hyper aware of all the eyes on her. “Nothing…” she tries to brush off, taking a sip of her Malibu and coke. “Just got lost in my head a little bit.”

“Well that’s a scary place to be,” Victoria quips without missing a beat making everyone chuckle.

Y/N lovingly rolls her eyes, crumpling up a napkin and tossing it at Victoria, “Har har, very funny.”

“Nah, we all know she probably zoned out thinking about how Punker’s sitting up in his room waiting for her to get back, huh?” Demi grins evilly, though she tries to cover it up with a look of innocence as Y/N glares at her harshly.

“Shut up,” she grumbles, pinching the woman’s bicep. Demi lets out a small gasp before playfully slapping Y/N back.

“Hey, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,” Gionna chimes in. “It’s kinda cute how he looks out for you. Not a lot of guys nowadays are like that with their girl friends.”

“That’s not true,” Y/N tried to counter, fighting off the blush that’s threatening to rise on her cheeks. She doesn’t know why talking about Phil is making her feel this squeamish, but it definitely did not go unnoticed by her friends. “Plenty of the guys we know at work are like that.”

“Oh please,” Demi scoffs out a laugh. “I’m willing to bet my kidney that Luis is conked out, drooling on his hotel pillow right now.” Everyone laughs at the image of the powerful ‘Damian Priest’ being sprawled out like a toddler. “While I know for a fact that Brooks isn’t sleeping until he knows your back safely.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she knows Demi’s right. She can practically see him staring off into space, his phone resting on his lap as he awaits her goodnight text. That’s how they’ve always been. Waiting up for each other before allowing themselves to get comfortable. She does the same for him.

“The old dogs got a soft spot for you,” she continues. “We’re not saying it’s a bad thing. Just saying that it’s different. You’ve got a unique dynamic. It’s nice to see.”

“We’re all just jealous,” Victoria laughs. “We all wish we had a guy friend like that.”

Friend.

That’s all Phil was right? Her friend. Her best friend. Someone who has sat with her through all the crazy things life threw at them. It’s all they’ve ever been. She’s always looked up to Phil, admired him, aspired to be as good as him in the ring and as good of a person as he is outside of it. He lives his life in a way that is so effortlessly him, and she is eternally grateful to have been blessed with the opportunity to be his friend.

However, like in every sappily tragic romantic comedy, best friends is not the term she would use to describe how she feels towards him.

It wasn’t obvious at first. There was a subtle attraction in their first meeting. How could there not be? He’s Phil Brooks. The CM Punk. She would’ve been crazy to deny how insanely good looking he is. But at first, that’s all it was. Just a good friend being able to admit that the man she has gotten close with is attractive. Unfortunately, that initial spark of interest grew with every passing day and burned down everything in its path until it became an untamable forest fire.

She hates herself for it. She didn’t want their relationship to turn into some sappy romance that made everyone either coo with jealousy or roll their eyes out of annoyance by how basic of a trope it was. So she swallowed every part of her that found him attractive. Hid whatever aspect of her subconscious that told her it would be a good idea to confess her feelings. And so far it’s worked. Things have remained perfect between them. Well, as perfect as they could be.

There still is that small part that wishes they could be more. But she knows that’s a line that can’t be crossed. Not when things are so great the way that they are.

“Yeah, I guess I did get pretty lucky in that department,” Y/N agrees with a fond smile, wrapping her lips around the straw in her drink.

Conversation easily flows back into other things; work, husbands, drama in the locker room. Y/N listens intently, chiming in when she feels like she has something of value to say. There was a long stretch of laughter when Y/N admitted to not having been in a romantic or sexual situation in over a year. They didn’t believe her until they saw her awkwardly sip her drink once more.

“Wait… are you for real?” Victoria raises her eyebrows. “You seriously havent even been on a date in over a year?”

“Yeah,” Y/N says sheepishly. “I just haven’t really had time,” she admits. “And I dunno… I guess I just haven’t found anyone interesting enough to spend time with. In either sense.”

“Really?” Gionna leans forward. “No one tickles your fancy even in the slightest?”

Y/N can’t help but laugh at her word choice. “Yes, really,” she confirms. “I just haven’t found a person that when I look at them I get those instant butterflies, y’know?”

That was almost convincing. Even she almost believed it. But that lie hasn’t worked for the past couple years, it’s probably not gonna work now.

“Well then we’ve gotta find you a man,” Victoria says, a new mission in her eyes. “ ‘Cause there’s no reason someone as gorgeous as you shouldn’t have men falling at her feet.”

“She doesn’t need a man,” Demi chuckles. “Not unless she wants one.” Her eyes meet Y/N’s with a certain tenderness, “Do you want one?”

Y/N thinks about it and truthfully, she wouldn’t mind having a significant other to come home to. Or to even travel with while being on the road. She’s had a hard time though the past few years finding anyone that excites her or intrigues in that manner. In fact, shortly after she met Phil, that’s when the struggles in her romantic life started. She really has no one to blame but herself. She let her attraction go unchecked and now it’s costing her in the long run.

“I wouldn’t mind finding someone,” Y/N says honestly. “Even if it’s just somethin’ casual for a little bit.”

“All right…” Demi smirks. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ve been hearing some whispers that Bron’s been talking about you a lot,” she revelas like it’s not that big of a deal.

Gionna gasps, “Oh, I heard that too!” She slaps the table excitedly. “Apparently he’s had his eye on you since he saw you in the Royal Rumble last year.”

Y/N’s face flushes red. She wasn’t expecting Bron Steiner out of all people to have had his attention on her. They’re around the same age, Y/N being only about two years older than him. Normally, she would never even consider entertaining Bron, since she’s typically into older men, but knowing nothing is ever going to happen witht he person she wants it to… maybe Bron wouldn’t be so bad.

“I could ask Dom to talk to one of their mutual friends if you want?” Gionna suggests. “Feel it out a bit.”

Y/N doesn’t understand why she forces a smile on her face. She should be thrilled, but she just can’t dig out that genuine emotion. “Yeah, that would be great.”

Once again, the conversation moves on. Y/N feels her battery depleting more and more as the others continue on drinking. She doesn’t understand how they’re not showing any signs of exhaustion. It’s like the later it gets, the more energy they feel. She rests her head in her hand, her blinks becoming slower and slower as things drag on. She finds herself zoning out, longing to be laying down next to her best friend, falling asleep while mumbling that she’s still watching his movie when they both know she’s not.

Her phone buzzes in her lap and she glances down, the exact name she wanted to see popping up.

“You doing okay?” Phil’s message wakes her up a little more, stirring something inside of her as she moves to reply. “You guys have been gone awhile.”

Y/N smiles but it quickly turns into a frown as she realizes how late it actually is.

2:45 am.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Why are you still up? It’s late.”

“Just waiting for my girl to tell me she got back to the hotel safely.”

Her eyes widen and her heart stutters. His girl? She shakes her head, taking a moment to blink rapidly before rereading the message. It’s still there. He didn’t mean it in the way she wishes she could take it. She knows that, constantly repeating it in her head. They’re just friends. She is his girl just like he’s her guy, because they’re close friends. They’ve got a special bond.

That still doesn't stop the way her mind suddenly starts pounding harder than her chest. She can feel her feet pulsing at a different rate and it becomes extremely overwhelming. She turns her phone off, closing her eyes briefly and sucking in a deep breath. The bar suddenly feels much more claustrophobic than she remembers, the dark lighting only helping to soothe the headache that’s building behind her eyes.

She shoves the small amount of her drink away from her, looking at the girls with apologetic eyes. She really didn’t want to be the one to tap out early, but she genuinely just wanted to be in her pajamas. “Guys, I think I’m gonna head back to the hotel. I’m starting to get a little woozy.”

“What?” Demi’s smile falls, concern replacing her joyous expression. “Woozy? What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”

“No- no, I’m fine,” Y/N tries to wave her off. “Just like a tired woozy,” she explains, trying not to make it sound serious. “I just wanna go to bed.”

Victoria moves to grab her purse, “Well here, we’ll finish our drinks and walk back with you.”

“No,” Y/N stops her. “No, guys, you don’t have to do that. I’m being the loser leaving early. You guys are still having a good time. I don’t wanna ruin your guys’ night just because I’m ready to hit the sack.”

“You wouldn’t be ruining our night, Y/N,” Gionna assures her. “It’s extremely late. We don’t want you walking alone.”

“G, I’ll be fine,” Y/N insists, standing up as she gathers her stuff. “It’s literally a five minute walk. I’ll text you guys when I make it back.”

“Y/N…” Demi looks at her, unconvinced. “You’ve been drinking. We’re in a city none of us know. You can’t expect us to just let you walk alone.”

Y/N grabs her hand, squeezing it reassuringly, “I promise, I’ll be okay.” A playful smile covers her lips, “I kick people’s asses for a living, remember? I’m sure I can handle a scrawny crackhead that tries to come at me. And like I said, it’s a five minute walk. Nothing’s gonna happen in five minutes.”

“You don’t know that–”

“Dem, I’ll be okay,” Y/N cuts her off, a pleading tone in her voice. “Please. I don’t want you guys to leave on my account. I promise I’ll text you the entire time I’m walking.”

The other three still look more than apprehensive. Y/N impatiently taps her foot, waiting for them to give her permission to go. She just wanted to be considerate of their time. If they’re not tired, they shouldn’t have to leave. Y/N’s never wanted to be a burden on anyone, and she doesn’t want to start now.

They can see the desperation and exhaustion in Y/N’s expression. Victoria’s posture softens, “Can we at least get you an uber?”

Y/N exhales with a fond smile, making her rounds to kiss all of her friends' heads. “No, I’m good. That’ll just be a waste of money. It’s right around the corner. I’ll share my location with the group chat and text you guys the entire way, okay?”

They all sigh, but reluctantly nod their heads. Brief hugs are shared before Y/N takes her phone out, sending her location to their group chat. She sends them a small wave before making her way towards the door. As soon as she pushes it open, she’s hit with a very welcome gust of fresh air. The pounding in her head regresses as she sucks in a deep breath. The fresh air around her was much needed. Things started to get much too stuffy in the bar.

Part of her wanted to take off the tall heels that are making her feet extremely uncomfortable, but she knows better than to walk around barefoot on the street so she powered through. She tugs her jacket closer to her chest, folding her arms over it to keep it in place. She’s only walking for about a minute and a half when she suddenly feels a strong chill cover her entire frame.

And it wasn’t from the wind.

The sound of heavy breathing fills her ears and she’s sober enough to know it’s not her own. Every part of her body is now on high alert. She continues walking, turning her head inconspicuously to see if she can get an image of anything out of her peripherals. Her breath hitches when she notices a tall, rather burly individual walking about ten paces behind her. She furrows her eyebrows, trying to see through the darkness. That’s when she realizes who it is.

It’s the same man they saw from when they walked into the bar. He had tried to talk to them when they originally walked in, but Demi was quick to shut it down so Y/N didn’t think anything of it. In fact, they all thought he left after the interaction.

Apparently he didn’t.

Y/N didn’t want to assume the worst. He might just be headed in the same direction, or maybe even going to the same hotel. But there’s this gut feeling she has that says believing the best isn’t the right move. Her hands become clammy and her stomach twists into painful knots. That’s when she knows there’s something wrong. Her body is warning her before something bad happens.

She keeps her pace, not wanting to alert the man behind her that she’s aware of his presence. Her breathing quickens but she tries to keep it under control. She doesn’t want him to hear her panicking because that might just make him strike faster.

Tears begin to brim at the corner of her eyes, Y/N silently cursing at herself for drinking. She always gets more emotional when she drinks. If she had just stayed at the bar– no, if she had just stayed with Phil, she wouldn’t be here. She wishes she had just stayed with him.

Y/N knows she could probably take down the man following her. It wouldn’t be easy, considering how large he looks, but she could do it… if she was fully sober. She’s not in her right mind, so engaging in a fight wouldn’t get her anywhere. It might just get her into more trouble. So she does the only thing she can think of.

Phil furrows his eyebrows as his phone rings in his lap. He sees Y/N’s name pop up and he becomes even more confused. Is she back? If so why wouldn’t she just text him?

“Kid, you better have some magical fucking energy drink to suck down for tomorrow ‘cause I’m still getting your ass up early to train,” he says jokingly, hoping to hear a drunk giggle come from her mouth. He might not drink, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t find her adorable when she is.

“Phil…” she whimpers , her voice cracking as she says his name.

The playful smile on his face disappears, replaced by worry and concern. His chest tightens and his fists clench. He’s never heard her say his name like that. So broken, scared almost. It puts him on edge more than he already is.

“Y/N…” he says carefully. “What’s wrong?”

“Um– I– I don’t– I don’t know what to do,” she says in an urgent whisper. His heart breaks at the sound of her clearly holding back tears. “We were at the bar, and– and I just got really tired so I told them I wanted to leave. They wanted to come with me, but I told them no because they were still talking, so I convinced them to let me go alone, and then I started walking but then I felt like someone was following me so I tried to look and then I saw this guy…” she hiccups, trying to cover up a sob. “He tried to hit on us when we walked into the bar but Demi turned him down. But Phil… he’s behind me,” she says, terrified out of her mind. “I’ve been trying to act like I haven’t noticed him, but I think he’s catching on. He’s walking faster now.”

Phil sees red. He’s up and dressed within thirty seconds, grabbing his hotel key and rushing out the door. “Where the hell are you?” That’s the only question he has time to ask. He’s furious. She shouldn’t be walking back alone. But he doesn’t have time to be pissed at the fact she’s walking in the dark by herself, the only thing on his mind is making sure she makes it back to the hotel safely.

“I’m like two minutes away,” she tells him. He can feel his blood boiling as he hears her shuffling on the other side of the phone. Her breathing quickens and he can tell she’s moving faster now. “I just need to make it around the corner and I’ll be at the doors of the hotel. I can see it–”

“I’m on my way,” he says, voice stiff. Y/N can hear the ding of the elevator and suddenly his feet are pounding against the tile of the hotel lobby. “Don’t show fear. I’ll be right there.”

“Phil…” she whimpers again. “I’m so scared.”

He sighs, clenching his fists tightly. He needs her in his arms now. “I know, sweetheart. I’m comin’.”

All he knows is this is the absolute last time she goes out late without him there to protect her.

Out of nowhere he starts hearing her heels clicking against the pavement faster. She’s running. “Y/N?!” He shouts into the phone. “Hey, talk to me! What’s going on?”

“He’s coming!” She yells, her worried whisper now turned into a full fledged shriek. “Stay the hell away from me! No!”

Phil’s heart drops as he takes off at full speed, disregarding any vehicles coming into the parking lot. “Y/N?!” He screams.

Y/N rips her heels off her feet, knowing she’s not going to be able to out run the stranger like this. “Where you goin’ pretty girl?” The man’s voice slurs out as he starts sprinting after her much quicker. “I just wanna talk!”

“Stay the fuck away from me!” Y/N takes a risky move as she bends down to grab a large rock. She conceals it in her hand, stopping in her tracks. She can’t run. She won’t make it. So she has to do what she’s good at… Fight.

The man goes to say something else, but Y/N doesn’t even give him a chance. She chucks the rock at his face, nailing him perfectly on the forehead. There’s a loud thud when the stone connects, but due to his drunken state, it only seems to stun him for a moment. Suddenly his eyes transformed from that buzzed haze to something darker. Something much more predatory. Y/N’s heart rate spikes out of fear as he starts stalking forward again, much slower this time.

“You stupid bitch,” he growls lowly. “What’d you go and do that for? I said I just wanted to talk!” Suddenly hes lunging forward and his hand grips her wrist. Y/N reacted on instinct. She swung, her fist connecting solidly with his jaw. The impact sent a jolt up her arm, but he barely flinched.

Instead, he growled, his temper flaring. “Knock that shit off,” he spat, yanking her closer.

She struggled, twisting, her knee flying up to hit his groin, but he dodged at the last second. His hands roamed where they weren’t wanted, his grip bruising, and Y/N’s breath hitched—

Her phone hit the ground with a sharp clatter.

“Y/N?” Phil’s voice was still there, but now much more distant than she wishes it was. “Y/N, what’s happening?!”

“Maybe if your friend was a bit nicer to me at the bar, this wouldn’t be happening,” he whispers into Y/N’s ear as she continues to writhe against his hold. “I was just lookin’ for some company…” Y/N holds back a sob as he moves to smell the crook of her neck. “You weren’t my first choice, but I guess you’ll do.”

She grunted, wrestling against the man’s grip. “Get—off me—”

The sound of pounding footsteps sent a chill down her spine. But they weren’t coming from behind her.

They were coming toward her. Fast.

Before the drunk could react, Phil was there.

He didn’t hesitate. Phil’s fist crashed into the side of the guy’s face with a sickening crack, the force of it whipping his head sideways. The man barely had time to register the pain before Phil grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward and slamming his knee into his stomach. A strangled gasp left the guy as he doubled over, but Phil wasn’t done. He twisted, flipping the man onto the pavement with a heavy thud.

“You think you’re real tough?” Phil growled, towering over him. His voice was low, dangerous. “Putting your hands on someone who told you no?”

The guy groaned, trying to push himself up. Phil kicked his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling again. “Stay the fuck down.”

But the drunk wasn’t smart. He lunged, swinging wildly—

Phil caught his arm mid-swing, twisting it until the man howled. He drove his elbow into the guy’s face, snapping his head back against the pavement with a sharp crack. Blood trickled from his busted nose, his eyes dazed. Phil crouched down, gripping the front of his shirt and hauling him up just enough so their faces were inches apart.

“If I ever see you again,” he said, voice low and controlled, “I swear on my fucking life that they will not be able to identify your body when I’m done.”

The man whimpered, finally going limp. Phil shoved him back onto the ground and stood, breathing hard. He spun back around to see Y/N sitting on the floor, body shaking uncontrollably. Tears stain her cheeks as she stares at the scene in front of her. The strange man lies on the pavement, knocked out cold, blood being the only visible thing on his face. But that’s not what pulls her out of her daze. She sees Phil’s knuckles and it makes her eyes begin to water once more. They’re busted up and bruised. She knows he had to have done extensive damage to his hands with how hard he hit the man.

Phil bends down, grabbing Y/N’s phone for her before crouching down in front of the woman. He can still see a lingering fear in her eyes, and that nagging voice in his head makes him think that it might be him she’s scared of after that whole display, and the thought of that makes him sick to his stomach.

He watches as she opens her mouth to say something, but he stops her. He gently hooks his arms through hers, lifting her off the ground. “C’mon…” he says tenderly, holding her in his arms like an oversized teddy bear. “Let’s get you back.”

Y/N doesn’t know why, but her body reacts instinctively to his hold. Her legs wrap around his waist, arms securing themselves behind his neck. She buries her head into the crook of his shoulder, breathing in his comforting yet familiar sense as he carries her back towards the hotel.

She can practically hear the wheels spinning in his mind. He’s overthinking. She couldn’t blame him. Her mind was moving pretty quickly as well. All that transpired in the last fifteen minutes was traumatic for both of them. Y/N bites her lip, guilt flooding her system as she realizes that Phil heard everything. He heard the guy practically tackle her to the ground. He heard her screaming, fighting for her life.

Then she realizes she has more than that to feel guilty over. Her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment as she remembers that she didn’t even thank him for coming to her rescue. She was just so stunned in that moment that she couldn’t even fathom saying anything. All she remembers was registering intermittent flashes of him beating the living crap out of the guy before it was suddenly over.

Then he turned to her, that soft gaze in his eyes. The one she’s noticed is reserved specially for her. But then it changed. He became self-conscious, unsure almost. It made her feel terrible for clinging onto him like this as he carries her into the lobby and over to the elevators. She couldn’t even tell him that it was okay. That she wasn’t mad at him for what he did. She just sat in silence like an idiot. And yet he was still chivalrous enough to be her human chauffeur.

Before she could even process where they were, Phil stops walking. She doesn’t want to lift her head up. She doesn’t want to unwrap her legs. All she wants is to stay like this. Him holding her. It not only settles her hammering heart, but it quenches that desire she’s always had for him. That need to be more than just his friend. The “kid” he has always been protective over.

Phil doesn’t make a move to set her down. Instead he rubs her back softly, his mind still full of anger. Anger at the girls for letting her go, anger at Y/N for thinking it was a good idea to walk alone, anger at that dumb asshole he left bleeding out for even looking in Y/N’s direction, but most of all… anger at himself. He should’ve gone with her. He should’ve called. He should’ve gotten there faster when he heard that panic in her voice. He should’ve gone to protect her first instead of beating the guy senseless right in front of her. Y/N didn’t deserve to see that.

She probably hates him for subjecting her to that.

Obviously they’ve seen each other in the ring. But Y/N has never seen him lose his cool like that. He just didn’t know how to stop it. His body was on autopilot and his only mission was to get Y/N out of that situation.

He then realized they’ve been standing outside her hotel room for almost five minutes in complete silence. He reluctantly clears his throat, whispering, “We’re here, kid.”

Y/N exhales, managing to curl up into a smaller ball than she already was. Phil feels an odd warmth spread through his body as she clutches to him tighter, “I know,” she mumbles back quietly.

Phil swallows the lump in his throat, “Well, you should probably–”

“Don’t let me go,” she asks, no, pleads with him. Her voice is so small as she somehow manages to cling to him even tighter. “Please…” her face flushes red with embarrassment. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

He stops for a moment, his mind fully registering what she’s saying. He hesitates before finally speaking, “Do you want me to stay?” He asks gently.

She finally manages to lift her head up. Her e/c eyes are completely glossed over, her cheeks puffy from how much she had cried. Phil can see the small wet spot on his shoulder from the silent tears she shed on the way here, but he doesn’t care. In fact, it made him feel better knowing she felt safe enough to cry on him.

“Would you?” She looks him in the eye for a brief second before she loses her courage, eyes flickering down to the floor. “You don’t have to stay for the whole night if you don’t want to. I just– I don’t think I can go to sleep by myself. Not after–”

“Hey,” Phil stops her, setting her down on the floor as tenderly as possible. Y/N looks heartbroken for a moment before he lifts her chin up with his finger, gazing into her eyes. His lips curl into that soothing smile that she loves. The one where the dimple in his right cheek pops out, making his soft side more apparent. “I’ll stay. You don’t gotta give me an out. I’m here, Y/N/N. For as long as you need me.”

Y/N’s chin feels like it’s on fire from the gentleness of his touch. She blinks slowly, not finding it inside of her to break eye contact. She nods, reaching in her pocket in order to grab her room key. She fumbles for a moment, but manages to get her hands on it. She reluctantly turns around to open the door, her hand shaking as she goes to press it against the electronic lock. There’s a small whir and click that indicates it’s opened. The silence between them isn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it’s familiar. It eases her anxiety to know that he’s behind her, protecting her.

She feels the buzz that was once infiltrating her system slowly dissipating. Getting almost attacked is a great way to sober up. She’ll be sure to keep that one in the back of her mind for later.

Her room is relatively large, a king sized mattress in the middle of the room. The walls are adorned with basic paintings that brighten the dull brown of the wall. There’s a desk in the corner, her script for the show the following day strewn across it, different colors of highlighter covering it. There’s random pieces of her clothing thrown haphazardly on the chair in the corner of the room, even a few pair of shoes are carelessly tossed near the bathroom door. It makes Phil smile at how they had only been there for less than a day and she already managed to make her hotel room look lived-in.

Y/N fidgets with her hands as she stands near the bathroom. Her eyes sporadically moving from him to everything else in the room. “Um… you can sit down if you want,” she gestures to the bed. “I’m just gonna go change.”

Phil nods silently and Y/N continues staring at him for another elongated moment before grabbing a pair of pajamas from her open suitcase and disappearing into the bathroom. As soon as the door shuts, Phil exhales, collapsing onto the bed. He leans forward, his elbows digging into his thighs as he rubs his face frustratedly. Things aren’t weird between them, but they are certainly not normal. He tries not to overthink it, she did just go through something terrible, so her behavior is justified, but part of him feels like maybe there’s something deeper going on.

Looking in the mirror, Y/N can already see a small bruise forming oner her wrist and on her hip from where the man had grabbed her. She stares at the forming marks, her heart beating faster as she relives the moment in her head. If Phil hadn’t shown up when he did… she doesn’t know what would have happened. A flash of the man bloodied and knocked out on the pavement crosses her mind and she feels guilty, but she smiles softly at the thought. Not because he’s hurt, but because Phil was the one who did it. Y/N feels nothing but relief and gratitude for the way her best friend came to her defense, and it’s about time that she thanked him properly for it.

She walks out of the bathroom, her hands crossed over her stomach to block the visibility of the bruise on her her hip. Phil hears her, his posture straightening, but he doesn’t look back. He doesn’t know if he can face her without losing his mind again. There’s too many emotions swirling in his head for him to thing straight. Y/N can see the tension in his shoulders and she exhales sadly. She grabs a wash cloth from the cabinet in her room, walking back to the bathroom to wet it before finishing her journey to Phil. She sits down directly next to him, reaching out to grab his hands without saying a word.

His brows furrow as he feels her soft skin touch his own. Her hands are perfect. Small yet decorated with little calluses to show how often she lifts and how much work she puts in to have the career she does. He watches her as she carefully cleans his knuckles. She treats him like he’s a piece of glass in danger of breaking. Her lips part slightly as she continues to work across his hands gently. The dried blood disappears with every wipe. He winces slightly, sucking in a sharp breath as she presses a tad bit too hard on a sore spot.

“Sorry,” Y/N immediately rushes out, pulling the towel away. “Are you okay? Well, obviously you’re not okay, that was a dumb question, sorry.”

“Y/N…” he gets her attention, trying to prevent her from getting nervous enough to ramble. He tilts his head in an attempt to try and get her to look at him. His attempt was successful, Y/N not being able to fight looking at him anymore. “I’m okay.” He nods reassuringly, placing his hand on hers. He looks apprehensive to do so, but Y/N soothes his mind by lacing their fingers together, her eyes still tracing over his wounds. “Are you?” He asks gently, letting himself relax into her touch.

“No,” she says honestly before gazing into his eyes once more, “but I’d be a lot worse off if it wasn’t for you.”

His face falls and his anger rises as he thinks about what could have happened to her. He goes to clench his fist, but the way her finger brushes softly against his hands prevents him from doing so. After a moment, his anger dissipates into disappointment. Dissapointemtn in himself specifically. He sighs, closing his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

Y/N looks at him bewildered, “What?” She furrows her eyebrows in complete confusion, “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I made you watch me beat the crap out of some douche bag,” he laughs but there is no humor behind it. It’s bitter, almost self-deprecating. “Instead of going straight to you like I should have and getting you out of there, I decided to sit there and throw punches,” he shakes his head. “I thought I had better control over myself… You didn’t deserve to see that.”

“Phil,” Y/N stops him, rapidly shaking her head. “You saved me,” she forces him to look at her, using the hand that isn’t holding his to turn his head towards her. “You don’t have to say sorry. You–” she stutters, trying to find the right words. “I– God,” she lets out a humorless laugh. “If anyone needs to be sorry it’s me.” He looks at her with a bewildered expression. She can see he’s about to protest, so she makes sure to finish her thoughts before he can. “I shouldn’t have walked alone. I should have called you or someone else here to come get me. Hell, even an Uber would’ve worked, but I didn’t.” She shakes her head as she dwells on her own foolishness. “And then instead of thanking you for protecting my stupid ass, I stare at you like a deer in the headlights, makin’ you think you did something wrong by protecting me.” She bites the inside of her cheek trying to fight off her frustration. “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. Not the other way around.”

A small silence stretches between them. Y/N starts getting antsy once more, not knowing what to do with the silence. She rubs the pad of her finger over the veins on the back of his hand as a way to try and calm her rising anxieties. The only thing that brings her out of her thoughts is the small chuckle that rumbles through Phil’s chest. Her eyes snap back upward, a lost expression covering her face.

“You were pretty stupid for walking on your own,” he chastises with a playful smile.

Y/N rolls her eyes, pushing his chest with no real bite behind it. She tries to keep an angry face, but she can’t help letting a laugh of her own out. “Hey, only I can say I’m stupid, not you.”

It felt nice to have such a lighthearted interaction. Perhaps it was a bit premature considering the weight of what happened still looms over them, but it was a nice reprieve. Even if it was only for a moment.

Phil loves watching her laugh. The way the crowd feet near her eyes become more prominent, the way her teeth manage to sparkle like a cheesy toothpaste commercial. She’s such a light in the world. His hand tightens ever so slightly around hers, like he’s trying to find a physical way to keep her tethered to him.

“You scare the hell out of me sometimes, you know that?” He mutters, his tone holding a much deeper emotion. One she’s not used to.

She lets out a deep breath, a small pout on her face. She leans down, resting her head on his chest as she scoots closer to him. Phil allows her to snuggle up to him, enjoying the feeling of her being near him. “I don’t mean to…” she tries to keep her yawn at bay, but it eventually slips past her lips. “I don’t try to find trouble, trouble finds me,” she says with a small grin.

“Hey, I’m being serious,” he says, his voice firm but not unkind. It’s just a lot more gruff than gentle, not that she minds. She likes the small growl in his voice. He uses his other hand that’s not holding hers to rub up and down her arm. He watches as chills form on her skin as he rubs slow and steady strokes across the surface. ““You go running around on your own, get yourself into situations like that, and I’m supposed to just—what? Sit back and hope you’re okay?”

“You act like I’ve made it my mission in life to stress you out,” Y/N pokes his side, trying to lighten his mood. She doesn’t want him to be upset or worried anymore.

“At this point, I think you might have,” He quips back, his tone bordering on playful, but the look in his eyes says otherwise. He looks down at her, Y/N craning her neck up to meet his gaze, “Kid, I can’t—” He exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to shake off a feeling he doesn’t want to admit to. “I don’t like thinking about what could happen to you. I see red when you’re not okay. And I’d do anything—anything—to make sure you’re safe.”

The weight of his words lingers in the space between them. It’s raw, unpolished—just like him.

Y/N exhales slowly, letting her fingers tighten slightly around his. There’s nothing playful in the way she looks at him now, no quips or teasing remarks. Just understanding. Phil doesn’t pull away. If anything, he holds on tighter. And for a while, neither of them speak. There’s no need to.

After a while, exhaustion starts to creep in. Y/N’s body grows heavier, her blinks slower, her head tilting just slightly as she nuzzles herself deeper into him. Her nose grazes the side of his neck, making his breath hitch. There’s a certain completeness having her this close. He tries to swallow the feelings blooming in his chest, but watching the way her eyes droop, he can’t help but admire her relaxed features.

Phil notices her exhaustion immediately. His protective instincts of her are second nature by now. “Alright, that’s enough excitement for one night,” he mutters, his tone softer but still firm. “You need to get some sleep.”

Y/N hums in protest but doesn’t argue as he helps her up, guiding her towards the head of the bed with that careful, steady touch of his. His arm is coiled around her waist as he pulls the blanket back, gently helping her lay down. He tugs the comforter over her, smoothing it down like it’s just another thing he can control.

Then he steps away, moving toward the chair across the room. He doesn’t plan on leaving her alone for the next few months, even if that means sleeping in uncomfortable hotel chairs. He’ll wait until she falls asleep before he can let himself relax. But before he can sit, Y/N shifts, pushing herself up on her elbows.

“Wait,” she says quickly, her voice a little smaller than before.

Phil pauses, turning back. “What?”

“Can you…” Her fingers twist in the blanket, hesitation flickering in her eyes before she forces herself to just say it. “Can you lay with me?”

Phil stills. His lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. “You sure?”

She nods. “Please.”

He exhales through his nose, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Yeah, alright,” he mutters, like it’s no big deal. Like his heart isn’t hammering in his chest.

He moves back to the bed, slipping beneath the covers on the other side. The second his body hits the mattress, Y/N shuffles over to him. He doesn’t stop her, wanting to feel her warmth just as much as she wants to feel his. Not that he’s going to admit it out loud. When she presses into his chest, everything in him settles. His arm drapes over her waist, pulling her in like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Y/N exhales, relaxing against him, her fingers resting lightly against his chest.

A beat passes. Then another.

“You’re my hero, you know that?” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.

Phil huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… someone’s gotta look out for you,” he mutters. But then he leans down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always come to your rescue,” he says, quieter this time. “Whenever you need me.”

And as Y/N drifts off in his arms, safe and secure, Phil lets himself believe that, for once, everything is exactly as it should be.

[cuppajj]

Beast Ancients AU Askbox Thoughts

Hey! This is just to clear up my thought process revolving around BAAU related asks. Please consider reading everything so you know for later!

When is the askbox open?: Whenever I feel like it, mostly. I usually leave it open, but I close it when I'm not in the mood to receive any.

CJJ's BAAU askbox notes:

I answer whatever ask I feel like! I do not operate on a schedule, and I do not guarantee everyone's ask will be answered, especially with factors like the amount I get, motivation to answer, and other things like if the question has been asked and answered before. Please do not feel entitled to hearing from me!

You are less likely to have your question answered if it has already been answered. This means if I said an answer in a previous ask or if a lore post answered it, I'm less likely to respond. There are some instances where I'll have new information to answer a previously asked question, which is why I'm only saying I'm less likely to answer, not ignore repeated questions outright

You might notice that I'm vague with some responses. This is usually because I want to leave things up to speculation! I don't want to share all of BAAU's story and lore from beginning to end immediately, especially when not everything is planned. So with this in mind, I won't (yet) answer endgame questions, or what happens in certain climactic scenes, etc. That is not to know so early on in baau's development! I like sharing things in a sorta linear format. If I get past the introductory part of the AU then I'd be more open to sharing the deeper heavier moments in detail.

Questions that have very subjective/speculative answers (such as the neobeasts reacting to mundane situations, questions that speculate what happens to a certain character not yet talked about, general headcanon posts that aren't super story focused) are also less likely to be answered, or at least answered vaguely. This is because I want to, again, leave room for people's own theories. I like fostering an environment of discussion!

Please do not expect me to take drawing requests! I know I have drawn for some, but it is not a guarantee nor should it be seen as a likely thing.

"Is it ok if my OC is in the au? ... can we write fanfiction?" etc - yes, it's why the tags exist!

I might answer some questions, but I'm no actual answering machine. I'm just an artist who has motivation highs and lows and answers whatever question jumps out at me in the moment. If I were to make answering everything an obligation, I would burn out real fast - and that's not fun for anyone here!

While it might look like I'm trying to bar people from asking certain things in my inbox, I don't intend for that to be the case. I don't want to undervalue the interest a lot of you have in my au. It means a lot that you have all of these questions and thoughts, and I'm very happy you enjoy what I have so far! This post is mostly just me explaining my thought process when I receive asks. For BAAU, I approach things in a mostly question-answer basis with emphasis on story clarification, and some sillies here and there! If you want to take anything from this, it's that I'd highly recommend scouring the #beast ancients au ask and general #beast ancients au tags (and the masterpost). You might find the answer to the question you were looking for, or at least find something that makes you think!

(I'll add more to this if I think of any)

Hope you understand and thanks!

[getvalentined]

This is...fantastic. I've never seen someone else put the entire Genesis issue so succinctly before, and I commend you for it.

(I would argue that Zack isn't actually stupid at all, he's just sixteen, but you did kinda cover that, which is also nice. I'm also not Zack's biggest fan, to be clear, but that's mostly because of his fandom.)

My sincerest apologies and warmest welcome to my rant about FF7: Crisis Core. Or, as I like to call it,

Propaganda: The Video Game

I say this with the utmost affection. Crisis Core ranks really high up there in my favorite Final Fantasy 7 installments. I played it when it first came out, borrowing it from a friend to play on a borrowed PSP. And, the more I learn about the game and the more I replay it, the more everything lines up.

This game is not about Zack Fair.

This game is about how Capitalistic Propaganda can sink into every aspect of life to the point where it is entirely indistinguishable from reality. And it’s very overt about it. So…

Here we go.

My treatise on Propaganda’s starring role in Crisis Core.

Part One: The Timeline

Something that a lot of people gloss over due to decades of Child Heroes in media—Japanese Shonen and Shoujo series in particular—is how young these protagonists are. We’ll hand-wave a lot of stuff in non-live-action series with just a little bit of suspension of disbelief. And that’s honestly just accepted these days. But here’s the thing about those hand-waves.

Final Fantasy 7 doesn’t do that.

Now, FF7 hand-waves a lot of stuff. For example, how far you can travel in a day by foot, the distance a man weighing approximately 165lbs can jump after being genetically fused with what might as well be a cocaine demon (Jenova), and how much hairspray one can reasonably carry on a cross-country journey while on the run from the feds.

Age is not one of them.

Exhibit A: Yuffie Kisaragi.

Do I really need to say more? She acts her age. So does Zack. And Aerith, even. Most of the characters in the original lineup were over twenty for a good reason. We see several kids in the series, and they all act their age, too—both the OG and the remake. Age is not a thing that FF7 really grapples with. It’s something they take relatively seriously.

Now, to the point.

Zack is 16 when Crisis Core starts…

… and he was 13 when he ran away from home without his parents’ knowledge to join the military.

Which accepted him.

At 13.

Without a parental permission slip.

Think about that for a second.

… Or for the next several parts of this breakdown.

Part Two: The Main Character

As I mentioned in the introduction, Zack is not the main character of the events of Crisis Core. Instead, he is the focal point of the second person POV. This is not the first time Square has done this. It was done most notably with FF9, FF10, and FF12. (I’m not going to go on an Akira Kurosawa rant right now, but please check out his film “The Hidden Fortress”. FF12 and Star Wars episodes 4-6 borrow heavily from this film.) The purpose and position of this character is such that they might best witness the effects the other characters make on the world as their stories unfold, usually in the role of a love interest. For Akira Kurosawa, it may have been told this way because these people are most effected by the decisions being made.

“Well, then, Sal,” you may be asking, “who would you say is the main character? Would that be Aerith, since she’s the love interest, like in the other games?”

No, actually.

It’s the antagonist.

And by that, I mean Genesis.

Hear me out. I used to hate Genesis, for I was once young, full of judgement for flamboyancy (thanks, internalized homophobia), and was led by the narrative to believe he was mean to his friends. Then I met my Lovely beta who loved him, so I wrote a fic for her as a gift. So for that I kinda just… read stuff. Because that’s the thing about Propaganda—you gotta read stuff to navigate it. I read the in-game emails. I re-watched all the scenes I could get my hands on with him. I read his wiki and tried to track down more information about him. Then I watched the scenes in Japanese and gained a better understanding of not just Genesis, but Sephiroth’s character. And I realized that Genesis was put on this road from the start. In fact, a big part of the fact that he’s seen the way he is in Canon—only at his most hostile and lowest points—is because the story is told through Zack’s point of view.

So before we get into the breakdown, here’s the hard facts about Genesis.

1. He was a test tube baby who may or may not technically be Angeal’s fraternal twin brother, which we are not going to unpack right now.

2. He was adopted by a relatively rich family.

3. He was a child genius (which requires not only resources, but drive to achieve), and at a tender young age of like… ten or something? He decided to mess around and literally invented pasteurization. Which is incredible, and really speaks to his knowledge of the world and ability to grasp complex concepts even at a young age. But, again, this is not the time or place to unpack that.

4. He was best friends with Angeal, who might as well have been the sweetest, kindest boy to ever walk the Planet. (I’m biased. I love him.)

5. As a teenager, he became fixated on Sephiroth, who had gained national acclaim as a SOLDIER despite them being the same age. (Please see part 1 and think about that for a second.) He then goes to join SOLDIER and brings Angeal with him. And Angeal brings his step-father’s puritanical “hard work is honorable” mindset with him. (On that note, Angeal and his father’s arc really are a wonderfully scathing letter to companies that overwork their employees and how toxic/unhealthy that line of thinking is. But. Again. We are not unpacking that right now.)

6. At one point he became consumed with LOVELESS, a series of poems with heavy prose and symbolism thicker than syrup. It got to the point where he was so well known for it that there was an entire fanclub dedicated to both him and analyzing the text.

7. While he was in SOLDIER, he repeatedly had his achievements publicly accredited… to Sephiroth.

Over and over and over again.

Everyone did, really. They mention it in the beginning of the game. Sephiroth even got public credit for Zack’s raid on the castle when he wasn’t even there. How much of his legacy is real? How much of it is made up? How much of it was faked? We don’t know. No one knows. But he keeps getting credit, anyways. And when Genesis confronts him about it, Sephiroth doesn’t care. In the Japanese version of their fight scene, you could even say he indirectly implies that he wants Genesis to take his place as the “hero”. In the English, Sephiroth’s line is, “Come and try.” But in the Japanese the line is closer to, “Wouldn’t that be nice?” Which, depending on how you take his tone, can mean wildly different things—from mocking, to earnest, or even admiration—which is especially to tell because he might be annoyed with Genesis at the moment.

Fun Fact: In Ever Crisis, Sephiroth explicitly says they are making up his achievements in the press to target boys his age for recruitment. (Thus why they accepted Zack at age 13.)

My theory on this line is that he is being cynical; that Genesis doesn't understand just how harrowing and even humiliating his experience has been. This only enforces my theory that the "come and try" translation in the English not only does a disservice to a line as wonderfully heavy as, "Wouldn't that be nice?", but fundamentally misunderstands Sephiroth as a character.

8. Genesis then took the fight to Shin-Ra. Inspiring a good chunk of their staff to leave the company, he then staged multiple attacks on facilities, staff, and the main building—which also spilled out into the city of Midgar. He murdered his parents, buried them, killed everyone in town, and… Yeah. It wasn’t pretty. A lot of innocent people died simply because they were vaguely associated with Shin-Ra. These are the actions of a villain. What’s more, this is clearly a sign that he has been acclimatized to death and violence by Shin-Ra to the point where he doesn’t even consider taking hostages.

Except.

Except the entire town was a Shin-Ra town.

Banora, canonically, was a Shin-Ra built town, which means everyone there was basically an employee of the company. No one was safe. Everyone was a threat. And that…

That was how he was raised. And he finally knew the truth—that every moment of his life was touched, controlled by Shin-Ra, all the way down to his very conception. He has never known freedom. He has never known his own identity. And now that very cage was killing him, slowly and painfully, and turning him into something that couldn’t even be recognized as human. He was watching himself rot in the mirror, and it was all because of Shin-Ra’s greed. And as he searched for salvation, he sunk into LOVELESS as he always had, hinging his entire life on Minerva’s Gift because he knew he was dying and that was all he had.

9. And then he died…

10. … but then it turned out LOVELESS was actually kind of a blueprint, and he did meet the Goddess, and he did get reborn without his degradation so he was rewarded for his journey in the end.

So why wasn’t Genesis the main character of the game?

Simple.

His actions challenge the status quo without being about the status quo. It’s a story about revenge. It’s a story about retribution. It’s a story about answering mass violence with mass violence and ultimately being rewarded by it. And while, yes, the series is an action-based violence simulator, the violence in the original FF7 was a guided, tactical effort. (For all that the characters aren’t the brightest bulbs in the sun lamps.) But the biggest, most obvious shift in the narrative happened when they realized their role as terrorists—bringing mass violence to the company via bombing and open aggression—was just resulting in increasing levels of retaliation against uninvolved people. They might as well have been a child beating the ankles of a giant. The goals and themes of the game fundamentally change when they realize that answering mass-scale societal violence with mass-scale physical violence was not only unsustainable, but also wasn’t going to solve their problem.

FF7 is about change and learning when violence—and what kind of violence—is appropriate in the face of different threats.

Genesis’ arc undermines all of that, and making him the main character would contradict the very heart of the OG game.

So, instead, we are positioned as Zack, connected to him through a mutual friend. From there we see all the damage and horror this vengeance brings to those living under the status quo.

But also, that plotline’s a major downer in a lot of ways, so they needed to lighten things up a bit to keep audience involved. And that’s why Zack is, well…

Part Three: Zack is a Himbo

Please, for the love of all that is holy, keep in mind that everything I say here is with the utmost affection.

Zack is dumb as a rock.

He is a charismatic, enthusiastic sixteen year old jock who ran away from home at thirteen years old to join the military. Which, please know, why I say “military�� I mean “private security guard force with a standard-issue Death Baton and a license to kill”. The first scene in the game is him being excited that he gets to murder a bunch of people in a simulation, which he is immediately scolded for by his mentor. He is a glorified, souped up private security guard who is canonically only in it for the glory at first. He wants to be a “hero”, but doesn’t seem to fundamentally know what that means. And, over the course of the story, the definition of that clearly changes for him.

Which tracks, because the story takes place over a period of time with high stress.

Occasionally I see people saying they wish that Zack had more complexity to him, and honestly? The game. Would be. SO. BAD.

Full Disclosure: I am not the biggest fan of Zack specifically because he lacks a lot of nuance. I wish he was a bit more complex, too. But I also know that would break the game. What’s worse, if he was still on Shin-Ra’s side because he understood Shin-Ra’s mission… Well… That would make him a villain, or a cog at best. That’s not main character material. It would make the ending more messed up, though.

Anywho, Zack was thirteen when he left home. He had no formal education. He didn’t tell anyone what he was doing. He even joined without a permission slip from his parents. This means that Shin-Ra was accepting thirteen, possibly fourteen year olds into the military. (Some people will say this tracks because you can get a job at fourteen in many parts of Japan. But, and this is important, you aren’t allowed to be a security guard until you’re quite a bit older, and you need a specific license for it, much like in the US.) Clearly they didn’t teach this boy critical thinking skills. Not because he’s a himbo, but because having their Super-Powered Private Security Force With A License To Kill think independently would explicitly go against their interests. (EX: Genesis.)

Shin-Ra needs SOLDIERs to follow orders or the company would no longer be able to function. Seconds and Thirds aren’t even allowed to reject missions. (One could argue that sending certain someone on back-to-back missions would be a good way for them to eliminate undesirables within the ranks by sending them to their deaths, which… would make an incredible fic idea, actually.) We already know that First, Second, and Third Class rank assignments do not actually reflect the power of the SOLDIER. This is canon. I would instead argue that those who make the rank of First Class aren’t necessarily the most powerful, but are instead the most visible in the media, thus the easiest to market, and/or the easiest to manipulate and control. (For a great example of this, see The Umbrella Academy.)

The point is, Zack may have been elevated to his position as a first specifically because he is malleable and single-minded. Even after all he saw with Genesis, he stuck by the company to the very end, with the exception of the time Sephiroth was literally guiding him to fail a mission. Zack allowed himself to take Shin-Ra’s side every time, taking down their enemies and following their orders, preserving his “honor as SOLDIER” as he had been taught. The only thing that made him stop…

… was literally getting put in a jar.

It was when he was no longer a SOLDIER.

Part Four: Honor

There is no such thing as SOLDIER Honor.

I repeat: There is no such thing as SOLDIER Honor.

It is a fictional thing that is borne of an ideology based around hard work. It only has power because it is believed in. It is an intangible social construct similar to the law, mathematical order of operations, and gender roles. So why are Angeal and Zack obsessed with it?

Pretty simple.

Angeal’s step-father followed it.

Now, we know three things about Angeal’s step-father.

1. He was chill with the fact that Gillian was already pregnant when they started dating.

2. He was a very good father.

3. He worked himself to death trying to pay off the sword he bought Angeal.

This, of course, says a lot about Angeal considering he rarely uses the sword. He essentially sees that sword as the symbol of his step-father’s life. Everything he uses it for, he sees as more important than his step-father’s life. That thing is usually Zack.

Zack, who is the child who joined the military based on stories of heroes.

Zack, who rises against Angeal in the name of his own step-father’s ideology and tries to talk him down, even at the very end. But Zack fails because he fundamentally doesn’t understand what’s going on, partially because “Soldier Honor” is just one more aspect of this narrative he was given. It is a narrative that Angeal has had to step away from, even though he doesn’t want to leave the memory of his step-father behind. He was a good man. He was a good, hardworking man.

And that is why he died.

Corporations will use you up until there is nothing left, then honor your memory/sacrifice. Shin-Ra was doing the exact same thing the company his step-father worked for did; using up SOLDIERs until they outlived their usefulness. And Angeal was horrified to realize that his “SOLDIER Honor” wasn’t honor at all.

It was willingly submitting to control.

But, unlike Angeal, over time, this meaning changed for Zack. Partially because he didn't understand it fully in the first place. It became about acting with integrity. It became about helping people. It became about not lying down and watching the abuse Shin-Ra handed out in exchange for literal money; for maintaining the status quo.

At the very end, Zack understood what it meant to be a hero.

Part Five: The Conclusion

To sum up, Zack believed in and idolized the propaganda spread by Shin-Ra at such a young age, and was so convinced by it, that he ran away from home at thirteen to join the military.

He was their target demographic, so they happily took him into their ranks. What’s more, people think this is normal enough that we see no one opposing this, because the only people who oppose Shin-Ra are “extremists” or “violent terrorists”.

Zack then became their loyal puppy, groomed to fill his role as super-powered attack dog to sick on anyone they deemed appropriate, and he filled the role. He believed he was doing good. He didn’t think they were invading another country, because that’s not what he was told.

He went after Genesis, because that’s what he was told, and he wouldn’t let Genesis’ actions shake his faith in the company.

Then he went after Angeal, hoping to get answers, only to become more confused. Angeal taught him about SOLDIER honor. He taught him about a higher calling. He was the one who made Zack truly loyal to the company. This challenged everything Zack knew.

He went with Sephiroth, planning a small rebellion of their own (a white lie on paperwork) to get answers, only to find things he wasn’t ready for and couldn’t fully understand.

Zack is shaken by each of these events. Horribly. At times, we even watch him grieve. But time and time again, he doesn’t leave the company. He sees the damage they do first hand, and he doesn’t leave the company. The company isn’t the problem, to him. He reads their emails, does their dirty work, and “maintains his SOLDIER honor”.

Zack swallows what they give him right up until what they give him is torture.

Zack swallows what they give him until he becomes their victim.

Every step of the way, Zack is fed a story of how the world is. He was raised on it. He lived it. He became part of it. He was paid peanuts to enforce the status quo Shin-Ra installed in the world by force, and he was proud of it because it was, to him, something to be proud of.

Zack believes the propaganda whole-sale, and we get to watch, from the point of view of an outsider, as it slowly destroys his life before killing him.

Propaganda has the power to make suffering normal. Propaganda has the power to make murder righteous. Propaganda has the power to take a thirteen year old boy out of his home so they can give him a sword, and when they point him in the direction of their enemies he charges of his own volition, because they made him believe in their cause. And he believes in their cause because he believes that it makes life better for everyone.

But that’s not what’s actually happening.

That’s just what he was told.

Crisis Core is about propaganda, and the depths to which it can affect our lives. It changes our belief systems. It changes our perceptions of reality. And when it’s torn down around our eyes, it can make us go insane. It can make us violent and unreasonable as we realize just how much violence is being forced upon us—violence other people just plain do not see. It's just a a piece of paper. It's just a law. It's just a job.

It's just a war.

Final Fantasy 7 was about Fascism.

Crisis Core is about the propaganda that built it. It is told from the point of view of a boy, then a man, steeped in it. He watches until the people suffering around him—Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal—are twisted into villains by the truths and lies around them. Genesis and Angeal are tortured by truths, Sephiroth is transformed by lies, and Zack is subsequently hunted down to conceal them.

Crisis Core is Propaganda: The Video Game.

[krysmcscience]

Don't mind me, just slacking on a big Billford comic by making other far more ridiculous Billford comics and also some AU art (please excuse my slapdash human!Bill thank you please, also before anyone asks the art style is messy and all over the place because idgaf LOL)

This started out as an excuse to design a Bill Cipher-inspired "wedding" dress, but then spiraled wildly out of control. Various rambles and a bunch more human!Bill arts under the cut, including another silly little comic at the end! (Feel free to skip the rambles, I won't be offended. I know I'm bad at shutting up. XD)

I may or may not write some comedy stuff for this AU, which I'm calling 'For Better Or Worse (But Mostly Worse)'. While Ford DOES remember getting sloshed enough for one thing to lead to making out with another after karaoke, neither he nor Bill remember this wedding, At All. The Love God did nothing to dissuade them from going hog wild on their marriage spending, either, so it got...uh. Exorbitantly Expensive. As in, the grand total could probably buy the entire fucking MOON sort of expensive. (It's fine, don't worry, Bill's good enough at crime to be able to afford it.) Also, because the logic of this AU is mostly dictated by Rule of Funny, the Love God's powers are close to unlimited when it comes to matters of romance, but ONLY when it comes to matters of romance. (Like weddings!)

Want an empty human vessel to smash the soul of a triangle into for date nights or when it's convenient, or perhaps even when it's NOT convenient? Easy peasy! Want the marriage to be recognized in every corner of the multiverse from now until the end of time, thus making any potential future divorce nigh-on impossible? Can do! Want to buy an entire beach for the ceremony and honeymoon and in general, and totally not at all because it would be Super Hilarious to prevent any specific movies from being made on that very same beach in the future? Fine, whatever, it's not his finances he's ruining!

Does the Love God also provide special rings that just so happen to turn incorporeal as long as the "happy couple" doesn't remember that they barged into his dreams to bully him into presiding over their marriage? ...No comment!

He spends the next thirty years trying and failing to get in touch with either of them for payment. This is why you should always demand half the money up front, my guy!

Also it's absolutely a traditional Jewish wedding, because I like the idea of Bill demanding all the keepsakes from the marriage that he paid for, and being completely confused when one of the things he's handed is a fancy container full of broken glass. He gets it later, but in the moment, he thinks the Love God is just fucking with him some more.

Ramble over! Here's the full dress that caused the comic to happen, along with what Ford wound up wearing at the wedding (and begrudgingly agreeing to put on again later for Reasons), aaaaand also a close-up of Bill's ring:

I may have forgotten to draw Bill's hair floofier when drawing the back of the dress, lmao

Since double ring ceremonies have been leaking over into Jewish wedding customs for a while now, Ford also has a ring, but his is the much more traditional plain gold band. There's definitely a message engraved on the inside - embarrassing, cringe, or incriminating somehow - but I haven't decided what it is yet, so use your imagination for now. XD Bill, on the other hand, saw the phrase 'traditional plain gold band' and said "No Thank You" before proceeding to embellish his ring to his liking. And because he's a secret sap who adores Ford's extra fingers, the triangle points add up to twelve, as do the engraved stars. Yes, they're stars, not dots, I just got lazy. There's also six lashes on the eye gem, and probably an eye engraving on the inside with another six lashes. (Bill's got it BAD, okay? We all know this.)

Here are the initial scribbles of Bill's custom vessel in more casual attire, please ignore the wonky anatomy and the fact that I flat out refuse to ever draw him with a proper top hat:

He does actually need a cane in this vessel; since Bill tends to possess men and especially Ford more often than not, he's used to having a higher center of gravity when in a human body, so his ability to balance is pretty garbage. (He may or may not topple over with concerning regularity.) As for his empty eye socket, his bangs don't do much to hide it since he's so high-energy (dude is constantly on the move), and he also refuses to wear a patch over it, because 1.) why bother, and 2.) it's more fun to freak people out.

To better align with Ford's attraction towards the strange, the vessel was designed with super minor shapeshifting ability - Bill can look like a perfectly normal human, but he can also make the teeth and fingers sharper whenever he likes (which is mostly just when he's angry or being more of a menace than usual), as well as slit down the pupils or outright ditch the irises altogether. He can also have whatever he wants in the downstairs department, just because I'm an indecisive bitch on that front, lmao. Maybe he can have boobs if he wants them, too, but I ain't drawin' tits on no triangle, nuh-uh, no sir. His powers are otherwise limited down to what humans can do, because for some reason, the Love God doesn't trust Bill to not snap into Immediate Apocalypse Mode if he's given a physical form that's actually all his and no one else's.

Due to the body being all his and no one else's, it's also not really a standard possession so much as it is just...Bill being temporarily human. He's a lot more aware of and in tune with his human body's senses than he ever was with his "puppets", which makes things like pain a lot more intense. (He is mostly fine with this, because he's a fukken masochist.)

A bit more fashion stuff, including beach and party attire~

The beach outfit was mostly me trying and failing to nail down his body shape, which is still not bottom-heavy enough. I then decided to slap a bikini on it, before making it supremely unsexy with a pair of fugly shorts, because Bill's fashion choices are not allowed to be conventionally attractive. Meanwhile, the party outfit was mostly me looking at the casual attire I designed, asking 'how would Bill make this Worse', and then drawing the result. The mismatched thigh-highs are killing me inside! :D

No, his vessel can't actually summon fire, I just drew it for funzies before I decided on said vessel's limitations. Yes, the gold brick tattoos are absolutely a reference to the fic 'Knowing Me, Knowing You' - I simply could not resist.

I also HAD to draw Bill in one of his canonical(?) shirts, just made tank-top'd:

He is absolutely about to over-correct and fall backwards after this. USE YOUR CANE, GOOFBALL!!! (I meant to draw Bill closer to this degree of bottom-heavy in the other images, but. Alas. I am bad at anatomy, LOL)

And, last but not least before More Comic Time, I attempted to draw him closer to Gravity Falls style:

Jury's out on whether or not I succeeded, but - hey. I tried. Now have some Handyman Bill AU, but with my goofy human design, instead:

Hey, it's a 'mystery snack', and the guy wanted A BITE to eat - the joke was right there, guys!!! (Based on this post, because it just screamed BILL CIPHER to me.)

whoops i forgor bills ring and cracks ahaha too late now

I WILL SHUT UP AND STOP RAMBLING NOW K THX BYYYYYE

[tumblweeds-omegaverse]

random omegaverse thought:

There must be people who experience specific instinct things with indifference or boredom.

Procreative cycle coming up? "Crap, I've got plans this weekend...stupid skip weeks."

Caught an intriguing scent while walking? "But I need to get to work! Shut up brain."

Had a snap response to a distressed sound? "Who was it?! ...right, it's my day off, I can go back to sleep."

Somebody growled at them? "Kid, I'm not a rival, that's my sibling."

Super cozy cuddle session happening nearby? "I'm gonna pass tonight guys, no social battery left, maybe next time."

Group of friends heading out to flirt and check out other singles? "I'm coming with you but only to make sure you all get home safe."

Setting where fated mates or soul bonds or permanent marks are a thing? "Meh. I don't really want one or care if I ever get one."

People in the actual omegaverse would get as bored of their stuff, as we do of ours, you know? It could be interesting to see that kind of vibe in fics. Biological demands faced with all the excitement of paying bills or doing laundry or tying your shoes.

Even if that kind of energy might not drive a plot, it could be interesting to have as a contrast to the people who do have big feelings about them - good or bad.

There's the friends who can't wait til they have a pack of their own, and the one friend who isn't against it but couldn't care less. There's the group in the office who are all about scent compatibility tests and figuring out one's best match and what sprays most highlight it, and the coworker who has no intentions on putting that much effort in. There are parents who hover and protect their offspring by scenting them multiple times a day, and others who don't see what the fuss is as long as it's done in the morning.

...also: packs with introverts who show care by giving each other space. So often, closeness is depicted through physical touch and tactile affection, but comfortable silence is meaningful too. Knowing people are near, but not having to interact until you're ready. Sitting in the same room doing different things, knowing that all it takes is a "hey, look at this" to share what you're up to. People understanding and accepting each other's differing or fluctuating needs for how and when to recharge. Seeing somebody reaching out or sharing space, beyond what's their norm, as a signal of the fact that they care.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

BIRTHDAY HAUL courtesy of a very lovely friend of mine 🥺

bonus goofy pics of a bday snack i had earlier with my favorite menace …..

[antiendovents]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

YOU’RE GOOD ENOUGH

I’ll grovel at your feet for you and call you a god and make sure that you have the best birthday ever

You’re fucking PERFECT

It’s me the supply anon. I want to be known lmao

BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU PERFECT BEING YOU

aah!! Yippe!! Hello!! Thank you!! ^_^ I'm gonna buy so many things with my birthday money!!! Thank you again! And hello again! :33

[javierduffy]

is there anyone else out there who has so much respect for people who make insane, out-there aus/ships that are so far from canon that all of the content for it is supplied by their own mind and if yes do yall see ME as one of those people

[vault81]

Had the geck reinstalled for 5 minutes, and I'm already making the twins a player home in goodsprings lmao

[kakusu-shipping]

🤗 for Koro-Sensei and/or 💕 for Sun!! I love your daycare s/i so much

I don't normally clash media in drawing prompts, something about it jambles my brain bad so I only did Koro-Sensei doodles

I could do this all day though.

[lucky-aces]

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