#lets admit that every group has those but

[shinkei-shinto]

Let's see if I can add MORE confusion in with my previous close reading of every single book in the series so that I could write my own Redwall novel!*

I see that you OP have heard of The Cookbook but for everybeast else: there's a cookbook! Most of the recipes are extremely simplistic but we'll get to why I think that is in a second.

WRT dairy: they make mention of "greensap milk" and I don't think any of their cheese comes without nuts. In ahhhh the one with the badger and his hawk, they talk more deeply about how cheeses are made (after you have the cheese) including wrapping them in nettles. So I Guess So since it apparently acts Just Like Dairy Cheese.

Yes! We are! Society doesn't exist yet! If you look at the books in chronological order, they move from using spears and sharpened stakes to swords and daggers and simple bows, and - in the last couple of books - crossbows. There's only one smithy and it's made in a dormant/dead volcano. They're literally just not that advanced at this point (although who knows where this would have gone if Jacques had been able to continue!) In earlier books, he refers to various tribes of species all living together in groups, such as squirrels in bands of trees, or the molehill of the Longladle family. Actually circling back to this there *is* one society that sort of rises up as a "city" -- in the Rogue Crew. There's a group of peaceable beasts who all live (mixed!) together in an enclosed sort of fort. It's one of the only other mixed-species places that exist, besides the Abbey and technically Salamandastron. (does Martin's temporary home have other species? I can't remember.) So this is also why I think recipes are a little simplistic. While they have so many vegetables (and don't UTILIZE THEM why are potatoes ONLY USED IN DEEPER'N'EVER PIE!? HUH??!) I think we're given to assume those are local and grown in their own ground, and they don't. have. spices/trade/etc yet.

*I* think the only idea of 'currency' is 'the currency of goodbeasts to do slave labor'. I think this one I would lean more heavily into "he was telling these stories to children" as an excuse; kids don't want to hear about money and capitalism they want to hear about pirates and heroes. But I also find this aspect of society confusing so I was mostly glad we didn't have to deal with money.

There's a bread dimension. That's my only excuse. As far as we know, the Abbey is very large - the front gates are tall enough to admit a full sized ship on wheels (a casualty of one mast) which is able to roll fully into the Abbey, hit a tree, and stop, without ever coming within weapons range of the front doors. We know there are lawns on either side of this path, a graveyard, a small-to-medium-sized spring-fed-lake, and a generous orchard. I assume Jacques was modeling this after abbeys in Europe/England, which I don't know jack and shit about, but that they did live there year round. shrug? I will note that there is a scene in a book (no I don't remember which one) where a gardener explains to a peer that 'we don't plant or harvest it all at once because then we'd have a bumper crop of parsley and what use is that? by planting some seedlings now, some later, we will have parsley throughout the season instead' so he was thinking about it, at least, even if it doesn't quite work out to reality terms. but there's just a fucking bread dimension, there just has to be, there's not enough room to grow the plants needed nor mills to grind them nor processing or ever making or even mention of flour. I GUESS we could talk about nutflour and other flour-like-flowers which the mice would have access to but BREAD DIMENSION. This was my one concession in my writing, I gave myself an out here because it drove me NUTS.

I don't think Jacques ever thought about this. We get ONE instance of a mouse adopting a. rat? what the hell is he. I think he wasn't the same species, I don't remember that one well, but there's him and Tagg, and that's "otter adopted by vermin" which isn't quite this either. I think this is probably another "kids story concession" which isn't an answer I like to give but it's the best I've got.

ha! ha! he actually retconned this! if you read Redwall the first book, he makes mention of several species (beaver? horse) which are WIPED FROM EXISTENCE in the rest of the series. There is a cart drawn by a horse which makes it seem like the mice and rats are living in a world with humans & human-sized equipment but that is RETCONNED. I do think the trees vary in size because we have various scenes of "two maidens bound hand-to-hand around a tree to keep them confined for the night" and "tied all [4-6?] of the vermin together with their belts, around a tree" in various locations in Mossflower and its environs. I don't? think? we ever hear of trees large enough to be giants to mice like they would in our reality. an addendum to this: I have never bloody been able to figure out the size of the fish. shrimps are the size of shrimp to us because otters eventually 'Skipper popped one in his mouth' in the kitchens which gives us an idea of how large they are to otters, at least. but fish??? ha. HA! we have the feast-day fish catching where multiple beasts are needed to reel in a huge trout or carp. we have pike, which are enormous man-eaters (mice-eaters?) but can also be beat to shit by a big otter and his rudder (Lord Brocktree iirc) and there is one kept as a tame uh, "pet", by an otter tribe. there is ALSO the wolf question. Gods know I don't remember which one this is but there's a book where a ... big fox? i think he is? is up far north, and he finds a dead wolf? and takes its skull and pelt and puts knives in for the claws? or some such. so we DO have extra-large-predators like wolves and wolverine, but then when we get. to the wildcats. oh the wildcats. they drive me NUTS. by rights they should be as big as badgers? when Martin fights Verdauga it feels like Martin is half the size of the cat? but then in every other way the cats seem to be as big as otters! or hares! uugghhh. BIRDS TOO birds are WILDLY inconsistent in size, I don't know how a mouse helps an osprey re-set his wing nor how a mousebabe rides on a flying eagle's head without disappearing.

do I have any burning questions still. hmm. OH I want to know what they make! their clothing! out of!!! WHAT IS IT. I also want answers about the far west, the scorpion??? and lizards??? as well as what the other side of the continent towards the east looks like, because in Martin's history we get to visit that coast AND we learn of several locations (TM) like Noonvale, which are never referred to again.

which BLOWS MY MIND because he made Brockhall + Castle Kotir literally affect the landscape temporally throughout his books. Brockhall is discovered and rediscovered and lost again and again, and Kotir eventually rises from the dead to menace the Abbey wall because fucking Germaine built a wall over the top of it when it sank into a mire. MA'AM. Even when we get to Doomwyte, the cavern they are in is a cavern mentioned in earlier texts! this is not our first interaction with the deep deep fissure in the earth that emits green gas!!!

oh and The Tapestry. I have so many questions about the tapestry. canonically the image of Martin was sewn by his (mother? wife? someone) and preserved through many things to eventually be set as the 'cornerstone' for the tapestry. And it "depicts vermin fleeing from him in all directions" and his "calm easy face" which seems to smile at Redwallers etc etc. but then. the SWORD. sometimes it it set next to the tapestry which to me makes sense; held vertically along the side it is accessible to many but not to babes. I don't think it is ever placed below the tapestry. but it IS placed ABOVE and there is a part where a goodbeast does acrobatic parkour to SNATCH IT FROM THE NAILS and I want to know HOW??? how big is the tapestry. how did you get that. is it landscape or portrait. what. WHAT. also where did the shield go! where did the sheath go! those were so important aaagaggghhhhhh.

Okay that's it I think I'm done. I hope any of this was useful or amusing, or better yet caused more chaos and questions 👍

^* I did in fact write most of this, 50k/100k words over two NaNos, but I could never get anyone to fucking read it or give me any feedback, despite handing out the first fifteen chapters to like seven people, so I lost steam. So if you're reading this and going "wow! I sure would like to read even more Redwall content and I would LOVE to get into in-depth discussions of shit in a fanbook, this sounds like a great way to build community," HI PICK ME.

hobbies include: close reading the Redwall series to answer my most burning questions. such as:

- can I replicate any of these delicious-sounding foodstuffs and would they in fact be delicious if I was able to

- corollary to the above: are we just supposed to read “oat cream” and “nut cheese” every time we see the words “cream” and “cheese”? I think so. bc if not, what tha hell are their livestock animals

- what is Society like? I don’t think we ever see a Mouse City or even Mouse Town though we do see castles and obviously an abbey. are we supposed to believe that most creatures are either in wandering bands or these societies based around a single structure (castle/abbey?)

- they appear to have an idea of what currency is (the bad guys always want treasure — maybe just to have, not to sell? but less ambiguous is some dialogue I just read, “acorn for your thoughts?” “you can have them for free”) but again, we never see anyone using money or making goods for the market. is this after the fall of Mouse Capitalism? are the bad guys (the idea of rat pirates gives me a headache, vis a vis the political/economic systems needed to power piracy) raiding preindustrial mouse societies for treasure/meat?

- corollary to the above: the abbey creatures have oats and wheat but we don’t see anybody farming or trading for farm goods on a large enough scale. is the abbey “orchard” really a like an indigenous forest farm of mixed foodstuffs? is that possible if you live in the same place the whole year or only if you travel each season? I have to do some googling

- both the lack of mixed-species families and the idea of mixed-species families give me a headache. has a squirrel never fallen for a handsome otter? what is the culture shock like if you marry into a subterranean mole family?

- this is the least “important” question but this read through I’ve been desperately trying to figure out What Size Everything Else Is. i’ve come to the conclusion that everything other than animals are at mouse scale, given that they can make seaworthy vessels their own size (a mouse sized vessel with real-world-sized waves seems impossible) and pick and eat apples and plums. but so far it seems like they’ve avoided mentioning how tall trees are — like a person compared to a tree or a mouse compared to a tree?

[sunandmoonseisai]

I noticed that there's a lot of overlap between l*bru shippers and the "you can't call the touden party a found family they don't even like each other!" crowd. It's like they need to dismiss the growth between laios and his team to make kabru more important to him by comparison. Like the argument that laios learnt to embrace his humanity thanks to kabru. I mean... I don't deny that their little convo had an effect on laios, but his arc towards accepting being human started way before he was even aware of kabru's existence.

It started when he revealed his true self to his team in the first chapter. When they still followed his lead, by obligation at first and eventually by genuine trust. When he bonded with his new companion senshi thanks to their mutual interest for monsters. When prideful chilchuck admitted, with tears in his eyes that he doesn't want to lose him. When marcille was teaching him magic, washing away his inhibition about physical closeness in the process. When his unique knowledge culminated in him defeating the bigger threat they ever had to face. When they all congratulate him for it. When marcille, smiling so bright, told him how proud she is and how much he has grown. It was their interactions, it was their teamwork, it was the meals that they shared that made laios understand that he can be himself and also be loved. That not all of humanity will reject him.

Marcille's smile is such a comfort to laios. The squeamish marcille that never hide her disgust. The one that wear her heart on her sleeve. She know him now, she know how much of a freak he is and yet she still smile so brightly in his presence. Same goes with chilchuck. He wasn't bond by any contract after they found falin, so why did he stay? Because behind every abusive remarks is his strong desire to keep his teammates safe despite the little power he has. Because he can't protect them so he's trying to shame them into being less reckless like a parent. Senshi see the team has his children that he need to look after. Izutsumi learnt that she won't live a good life doing nothing but what she wants. She learnt that she need to take care of herself to not worry those who care about her.

Where was I again? I got sidetracked but all to say that when laios dreamed of falin leaving him after his leg was bitten off, he was distraught. And yet he let her leave so casually at the end, because she isn't the only person who love him for who he is anymore. He has a whole support system by his side now.

(And dungeon meshi is a story about a group of people learning to live without their mutual moral support, and said moral support being finally able to live for herself now that she isn't as needed but that's a story for another time).

[faithshouseofchaos]

Rockstar!Daniel Ricciardo

Tagging @thef1diary and @emchante if yall wanna turn this into a fic/series or make this into a dirtbag Daniel au be my guest I don’t have time to write this one but it needs to be written/seen by the people.

A little about him

Personality Traits

1. Charismatic & Outgoing:

• Daniel is the life of every party. He’s a natural performer, charming crowds with his easy-going smile, infectious laugh, and electric stage presence. He loves the limelight but never takes himself too seriously, always cracking jokes and bringing a sense of playfulness wherever he goes.

• On stage, he’s magnetic—effortlessly drawing people in with his raw energy and cheeky charm. He knows how to command a crowd, whether he’s playing an acoustic set in an intimate venue or leading thousands at a packed stadium.

2. Adventurous & Reckless:

• Daniel’s a thrill-seeker at heart, someone who chases adrenaline both on stage and off. He’s always pushing boundaries, both musically and in life—whether it’s experimenting with a new sound, playing surprise gigs in random cities, or taking risks no other rockstar would dare.

• His reckless side can get him into trouble—he’s impulsive, often diving into things headfirst without considering the consequences, relying on his charm to get him out of sticky situations.

3. Playful but Deep:

• Beneath the loud, playful exterior, Daniel is surprisingly introspective. He hides his more vulnerable side behind jokes and bravado, preferring to laugh off the emotional toll of fame rather than confront it directly. Music is his outlet, and the lyrics he writes are often more vulnerable than he lets on.

• He’s got a big heart and genuinely cares about his bandmates, fans, and close friends. When he lets someone in, he’s fiercely loyal—sometimes to a fault, because he struggles with setting boundaries and doesn’t want to disappoint anyone.

4. Perfectionist Disguised as a Free Spirit:

• Although he presents himself as carefree, he’s a secret perfectionist. Every note, every performance has to be flawless, and he’s his own worst critic. He hides his anxiety behind his rockstar persona, pushing himself to the limit, but he’s terrified of failure.

• He’s passionate about his music and refuses to compromise on his vision, leading to clashes with managers, record labels, and sometimes even his bandmates when they think he’s being too stubborn.

5. Protective & Loyal:

• Daniel has a protective streak for those he cares about. He’s fiercely loyal to his band, his friends, and eventually the racecar driver he falls for. If anyone tries to mess with his inner circle, his easy going nature flips to a defensive, almost fierce protectiveness.

• He’s not the type to hold grudges, but he remembers who’s been there for him when times were tough—and who hasn’t. Loyalty means everything to him, and betrayal hits him harder than he likes to admit.

Headcanons

1. Stage Rituals & Superstitions:

• Daniel has a quirky pre-show ritual: he never goes on stage without his signature worn-out leather jacket, a vintage item he found at a thrift store when his band was still playing local gigs. He believes it’s his good luck charm and freaks out if he can’t find it before a performance.

• Before every show, he gathers his bandmates for a quick, informal pep talk. They tell the worst joke they can think of (the cornier, the better), then they do a group cheer to psych themselves up. It’s his way of loosening up the tension.

2. Adrenaline Junkie:

• When he’s not on stage, Daniel’s always looking for his next rush. He’s got a collection of fast motorcycles and cars, often seen speeding through empty streets late at night when he needs to clear his head. He’s also known to indulge in spontaneous adventures, like bungee jumping off bridges or skydiving while on tour.

• His love for speed explains why he’s so fascinated by racing—he respects the precision and danger of motorsports, recognizing a kindred spirit in the racecar driver he falls for.

3. Unpredictable & Spontaneous:

• Daniel is famous for pulling off wild stunts during his concerts—stage diving into the crowd, setting up pyrotechnics without warning his crew, or deciding mid-performance to change the setlist because he feels the energy of the crowd pulling him in a different direction.

• He’s also the king of spontaneous road trips. On a whim, he’ll pack up his guitar, grab his bandmates, and head to the nearest seaside town for an impromptu acoustic performance on the beach, drawing crowds without any promotion.

4. Sentimental About Music:

• He’s a collector of old vinyl records, especially rare albums that influenced his style. He’s got a whole wall in his apartment dedicated to his collection, and he’s deeply sentimental about them. Some of his best songs are inspired by the music he grew up listening to.

• Daniel often leaves small, handwritten notes in his guitar case—lyrics, song ideas, or random thoughts he jots down in the middle of the night. Some of his most iconic songs started as scribbled phrases on the back of concert flyers or napkins from his favorite dive bars.

5. Fan Engagement:

• Daniel is a huge believer in connecting with his fans. He’s known for sneaking out after gigs to chat with the crowd outside, giving out autographs, and sharing drinks with his most dedicated supporters. He’s got a reputation for being “the approachable rockstar,” never too cool to hang out with his fans.

He keeps a scrapbook of fan letters and gifts looking at it whenever he feels down or struggling with the pressure of being famous it’s his reminder of why he became a rockstar in the first place.

6. Restless Energy:

• Daniel has a hard time sitting still. When he’s not touring or recording, he’s always tinkering with something—trying out new instruments, customizing his motorcycle, or brainstorming wild ideas for his next show. He’s the kind of guy who stays up all night because he’s had a “brilliant idea” for a song and can’t rest until it’s fleshed out.

• He’s notorious for pacing backstage before shows, strumming his guitar and humming new melodies under his breath, his nervous energy barely contained until he steps into the spotlight.

7. Unexpected Vulnerability:

• Late at night, when the adrenaline fades and he’s alone in his hotel room, Daniel struggles with insomnia. He’s haunted by doubts about his career and fears of burning out. Sometimes, he’ll play acoustic covers of his favorite songs to calm himself down—always soft, raw, and never meant for anyone else’s ears.

• His songwriting process is often therapeutic; he’s written some of his best lyrics during moments of quiet vulnerability, sitting by himself in the early morning with only a notebook and his guitar, capturing the loneliness that fame brings.

8. Clashing with the Music Industry:

• Daniel has a love-hate relationship with the music industry. He’s had multiple fallouts with record executives who tried to mold him into something more commercially viable, insisting on playing what feels real to him instead of chasing trends.

• Despite pressure from labels, he continues to write personal songs that don’t always make sense for radio play but resonate deeply with his fans, who appreciate his authenticity.

[jeanjauthor]

Yeah, I agree; it's lazy world building to have a goddess curse her people to be more like herself and then cast them out of her worshippers. Worshippers are the center of a god's power base, and transforming someone into a dryder surely consumes a lot of god-energy, so it wouldn't be done casually.

"But she's Eeevillll!"

Still needs worshippers & their energy.

"But she's CHAAAOOOTIIIIC!!"

Still needs worshippers & their energy, 'coz she's a god. Gods are supposed to have superior intelligence. And she's not a demon, whose very nature is chaos. She's a drow goddess, and drow have a great deal of organization & careful thought integrated into their society.

Nope. Lazy worldbuilding. Because if even a strong arachnophobe like me can see the glaring gaping flaws in this "ideology" then "because arachnophobia!" isn't a valid excuse, either. Nor is Lolth going to be full of arachnophobia or the concomittant self-hatred that would come from being what she fears in that scenario. She's a god. She can change herself so she won't have to keep hating herself!

Sure, it might take a few miracles and demands to her clergy to remove all the spider motifs, but honestly, she's a god, she can waste her god-energies on changing those instead of permanently polymorphing people whom "offended" her into being more powerful than before.

Lazy-ass writing with absolutely mindless "worldbuilding" decisions. And yes, I admit I've done some laziness in my own writing, too, but honestly, this dryder thing out-lazies everything I've ever done.

People may fear them, but that's fine, because as a dryder, they're more powerful, and people should fear that power. But I just don't see it as a curse. I see it more like, "The Goddess Has Her Eyes On You, and is imposing Her Will upon you. Your increased power and strength only comes from Her! Every awesome thing you do from this moment on with your awesome new body is due solely to the power of Lolth! Praise Lolth with your every breath!"

Hell, even if it was a legitimate worldbuilding curse, it's more along the lines of, "You tried to get away from me, but now you're more like me than ever!!" And that power should be forced upon them to make them more integrated into the society they're trying to flee. THAT would be one hell of a chaotic curse! But no, it's lazy as hell to just shove them to the outskirts of society when they're the living embodiment of their deity's power.

As a result, I think it's great that a lot of gaming groups tend to ignore or reverse the whole "dryders are accursed creatures outcast from society" thing.

But that's the thing about roleplaying games. It's group cooperative storytelling. We agree, as a group, to create a story based on the rules of X, Y, and/or Z. And/Or. If we all agree Y is "let's not go there; 'tis a silly place" territory, then we don't have to go there.

One individual author can be lazy as hell. But if everyone else agrees to ignore Camelot in our own stories, then we can simply ignore Camelot!

'I am once again asking for Menzoberranzan DLC'

[sorryimananti-romantic]

viviz's maniac's intrument sturcture is actually so unique n smart

idk the name of the instrument but they have only one beat stretching through the song until the first chorus, which is where a few more beats are added. then those beats continue until the second chorus, where even more beats are added. and the final chorus is like the result of the build-up ygm

also which group(s) do you think need more attention?

i say oneus and stayc. if those groups were under big4? you bet they'd be one of the biggest 4th gen groups. not to mention their songs, which are literal bops, and apart from one or two, their title tracks never miss. people fr be sleeping on amazing music!!

omg. i literally agree with all of this and it's like you've taken a peek inside my mind!

viviz maniac is such a good song, i cannot say this enough. the instrumental is so euphoric esp when it comes to the end with the amalgamation of all the beats. also doesn't help that the last chorus choreo hits the sweetest of spots hehe this song deserves all the recognition, it's so... gfriend. viviz. kpoppy. all good things.

i agree with you- oneus and stayc have so much potential, they've always done sth a bit different and unique and their sound is so pleasing to hear, they def would have had more recognition if they were from the big4 (or if ppl had taste bruh i know most of the ppl don't listen to groups that aren't from the big4 or close). and i don't think they've had a single miss-- they've always done their thing brilliantly and if we don't like a specific song, we should just accept that it's not our taste and move on instead of thinking that that cb was not it, yfeel? can't like every song from a group even when it's your fav 🤷‍♀️ and that's okay hehe. essay ahead:

i've been listening to oneus since debut, and they've always done that thing with their title tracks where all 3 chorus are different, with the first two being just one thing away from pure satisfaction- like they literally tease us throughout their entire song, and when the final chorus hits? utter relief, ascending to the clouds, 9999 levels of euphoric satisfactions achieved! not everyone can do that, and they do this incredibly well. their choruses always hit the spot! like in 'come back home' and 'lit' to name a few. i swear if ppl just listened to them, they literally have top tier discography

and stayc! i'm not familiar with their bsides, just the title tracks, but i bet their bsides are just as good. i think like everyone else my first song of them was asap and i started following their music soon after. i love how while trying different concepts and sounds, they're still so distinctively stayc. you just know it's a stayc song as soon as it plays. if i could have one word to describe their songs, it would be 'fun'. like even with their more sentimental song 'beautiful monster' (my underrated queen, literally my fav song from them) they have that fun element about them, bubbling with youth and it's so refreshing. i'm quite a fan of their recent cb too. they never miss, and i wish more ppl heard and appreciated them.

you can tell i'm serious about them LMAO i've written an essay. i do think kbands deserve a whole lot more too bc come on. they're just another level. however, for kpop groups... i must talk about weeekly.

weeekly literally have such amazing vocals and performances. i know prob everyone heard their song 'after school' but like, don't you think they have such a nostalgic sound about them? if you heard their recent cb 'vroom vroom', it's so... idk why it reminds me of sth and i can't quite put a finger on what. their songs do that to me. monday is amazing and has so much potential as a main vocalist, so does soeun. they're literally such a power vocal duo. i've been listening to them pre-debut so its sad to see they still don't get the recognition they deserve. idk if it's bc their company don't have the budget for them or they're not that popular that they don't have many comebacks but they always slay

dreamcatcher too. literally such an amazing group full of the best performers in the industry, dare i say. their presence, concepts, skills are on par with some of the greatest kpop groups and im glad they're finally getting some limelight. the fact that they have choreos like 'scream' and they're singing live blows me. they're like the ateez of girl groups.

there's so many more i could talk about- purple kiss, pixy -- both with unique concepts and amazing performances. i don't stan a lot of the 4th gen boy groups so i can't say for sure (i'm made for the girls i guess) but sf9 comes to mind.

[filmstarved]

i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you’re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot. 

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble. 

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin. 

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him. 

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. 

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning. 

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you. 

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans. 

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it. 

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully. 

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did. 

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top. 

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ‘oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it. 

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely. 

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again. 

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything. 

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he. 

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies. 

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face. 

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass. 

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again. 

ease and silence…and love.

[castillon02]

Jason and Tim have similar competence standards and end up swapping employees sometimes.

---

"Boss, I'm outta the game with this hip---"

"You're outta the beating-up-traffickers game. I got a guy who can get you into the scaring-the-rich game just fine."

"You mean, like...?" A fist into an open palm, quirked eyebrows.

"Nah, verbal intimidation only unless someone steps up to the plate. Mostly you got good eyes and this Wayne kid values having people around who can observe things that aren't spreadsheets."

"Hey, you said I did pretty good at that Excel thing!"

A pointed look.

"Ohhhh. I'm gonna get to learn spreadsheets and threaten people? Oh, man. Thanks, boss!"

"They've got the same insurance, too, so that'll roll over automatically."

---

Meanwhile, on Tim's end of things:

"I noticed that you tend to get impatient with slow results, that you're happy to yell at people for safety violations, and that your plan to remediate the company's incompetence in these areas involves 'firing every single one of them who can't get their head out of their ass.'" Tim smiled.

His employee smiled back. "I mean, that's why you hired me as safety supervisor, right?"

"Of course; your proactive attitude is one of the reasons we chose you. However, I also noticed that a lot of your frustration stems from employees whose work is being impacted by personal issues, often ones stemming from attacks by prominent local criminals."

"Listen, I'm from Minnesota. I know from cold. And I also know that you can't let a little hypothermia from Mr. Freeze screw up your numbers, especially not when those calculations impact lives." Squared shoulders, hands on the hips---yeah, definitely more of a cultural fit with Jason's organization.

Tim nodded and continued his pitch. "And you're competent with a firearm, correct?"

"Hey, I'm not about to go postal just because---"

"No, no, you misunderstand me. You're a skilled employee. I'm just wondering if you might benefit from transferring to a work environment in which you can shoot some of the people who are actually causing these problems."

"I'm sorry?"

"You have a dartboard with Leeds's face on it because he screwed up so many times after that Ivy incident put his kid in the hospital."

"...Okay, I admit that's not my best look."

"The organization I'm recommending you to has a printer next to the firing range; it's sized specifically for target paper."

"Oh."

"It's also an organization that works specifically to keep kids from needing to be in the hospital."

"Oh. You mean---" There was really only one group it could be.

"They need someone with your eye for logistics. Hood's work isn't 'legit,'" Tim made careful air quotes because the dorkiness tended to put people at ease, "but your insurance would roll over to them automatically. And you can rest assured that they take safety very seriously."

[caxycreations]

Okay, I've been nerd sniped, I'm sorry

NOTE: If you're going to reblog just to say "not reading that" or some other rude shit, DON'T. I've seen so many notifications of people just saying they couldn't be bothered to read it. I don't know if it's just that they don't see how incredibly rude and disheartening that is or if they know and don't care, but either way it really hurts to see, so please don't reblog if it's just to tell me you won't read it.

So let's go through the canonical likelihood they could each beat Goku. For the sake of keeping canon, we'll keep groups/pairs together if they would never reasonably be apart for something like this. Long post below the cut.

So first up are the ones I see that would, without a doubt, beat Goku.

Saiki K

Saiki is an omnipotent psychic/psionic with quite literally every single possible power out there. Now, this on its own isn't enough to beat Goku. Versatility doesn't mean everything, but Saiki is also powerful enough to rewrite the genetics and reality of everything within range, and his range is, so far, "Earth".

So this, on its own, would allow him to rewrite Goku's biology to make him Human. Bye bye zenkai boosts, bye bye Saiyan transformations. And Saiki, with his powers, has no trouble beating a Human of any caliber if he truly wanted to. And for those who ask "Why would he ever fight Goku?"

One simple reason: Goku would sense his immense power, and be excited for a fight. Goku is respectful enough to not force one if he's refused, but he's persistent enough to badger Saiki until he's given a chance. And Saiki, being Saiki, would simply take off one of his limiters, or both, and rewrite reality as such: "Being an alien isn't possible", thereby making it effective immediately that Goku must be lying/insane, and he is, in fact, Human. Easy win for Saiki.

And for those who would argue against this, bear in mind, the funniest way to beat Goku in this instance would be to simply make him weaker than Saiki, and Saiki is a gag character from a gag series, and it's already been shown in the world of Dragon Ball, and again in Dragon Ball Super, that Goku is incapable of defeating a gag character regardless of that characters canonical ability.

Saiki could win without gag character status, but even in the instance of Goku "beating" him, the gag would turn out to be that Saiki only pretended to get beaten, and is actually entirely unharmed because it was the easiest way to get Goku to leave him alone. Followed by a reveal that Goku will still show up now and then to ask for sparring matches, to drive the point home.

Popeye

Gag character. Would get beaten handily, crawl his way to spinach, and then be exactly as strong as he needs to be to take Goku down in however many hits is funniest.

Bugs Bunny

The gag character to end all gag characters. Someone on this hellsite once described Bugs as a "Trickster God who traps us in our own societal expectations" or some such. Like convincing Thanos to remove the Infinity Gauntlet by establishing a security checkpoint with a metal detector and shaming him into cooperating by telling him there's others waiting.

He could beat Goku in a billion ways, and each and every one of them would involve some shenanigan like Goku throwing a spirit bomb, Bugs showing up behind him holding it, saying "Ehhh, can you hold this for a second?" and as soon as Goku takes it and Bugs is off-screen, it would explode and Goku would be a pile of ashes with blinking eyes. Bugs would win because Bugs' gag is that...well, he simply can't be beaten.

The Warner Trio

Gag trio. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot would snark, sass, and sarcastic-joke their way into the scene, and they would spend the entire time poking fun at him, roasting his look, being unfazed by his attacks because "Nice laser show but we didn't bring our glowsticks." and just being too unbothered to care.

They would undoubtedly annoy Goku into admitting defeat simply to get away from them.

Road Runner

Gag character. Would force Goku to chase him, Goku would fire some blasts, chase him around, and inevitably be led right into the path of a blast he fired earlier to be disintegrated by it.

Pop Team Epic

I know nothing about this series except that it is a gag series. They are gag characters. That means Goku is inherently incapable of beating them.

ASDF Guy

Gag character. Could beat Goku with a simple "Hello, Mine-Turtle!" or "I like Trains."

Heart Diagram

Goku was literally killed by a heart virus in Future Trunks' timeline. This is one that has actually canonically already killed Goku.

Chowder

Gag character. Would likely be after S-Cells for some recipe and need to take Goku's as he's "The only Saiyan in this episode!" or some such, thereby ending the fight with a shot of Chowder wearing Goku's Gi for comedic effect while Dahl stirs raw Super Saiyan aura in a pot to hint that Chowder killed Goku for his S-Cells.

Force Ghost Trio

Gag versions of serious characters, and also ghosts. Goku is canonically unable to beat ghosts or gag characters, and these guys are both.

Those are the ones that would, without a doubt, beat Goku.

Now, let's go over the ones that could, potentially, be it likely or unlikely.

Kirby

Kirby is often considered a gag character, but he isn't. He has a very specific level of power, even if that level of power is "fuck you" levels of power. Kirby has beaten Gods, but so has Goku, even more often and with greater ease. However, Kirby has absorption and power-theft. Kirby could, potentially, absorb Goku (he isn't the brightest and Kirby has his unassuming appearance on his side) and take on his strongest form, including its powerup, and given Kirby in base form is likely more powerful than Goku in base form (Goku needed SSJ to scare Supreme Kai, Kirby beats Gods in base), it's possible Kirby would be more powerful than Goku with the same power up.

Kevin McCallister

Okay, hear me out.

Kevin is technically a gag character, BUT. He is not TRULY a gag character. He just happens to be a comedy character.

So he isn't guaranteed to win, but he could still possibly do so. How you ask?

Goku has been somewhat injured or lightly shaken by the following: planet-shattering attacks. Punches that rock the universe. Energy blasts so potent they would destroy entire galaxies.

Goku has been rendered inconsolable from the pain of the following: chest pain and a half-heartedly, boredly tossed pebble.

It is canon that when Goku and the other fighters in the series are expecting an attack or primed for battle, they are protected by their ki, like armor. It's how they're able to knock away attacks that would destroy planets, or put their "bare" hands on plasma energy that would normally burn the skin off you from a mile away let alone touching it.

This is why when Krillin threw the rock at Goku, it left him in agony and bruised him despite Goku being in Super Saiyan form at the time. This is why Chi-Chi is able to injure Goku regardless of how strong he gets.

So, how does this relate to Kevin being able to beat him? It's everything. It's critical information.

Kevin McCallister's entire M.O. is unexpected attacks. You open a door, you see a bucket fall, think it's over, turns out no, second bucket pulled by the first, second bucket is full of paint and open, you're blinded, you get your bearings, you take a step and feel cars, you smirk and step over them only to find marbles, you slip, you land on the cars which turn out to have been rigged to break easier to let loose a single thumbtack which is now firmly stuck in your back or butt. You bolt upright only to slam your head on a 2x4 that was rigged to hang down from a rope when you fell because your impact shook things enough to make it fall from a precarious perch above.

You get the idea. Every time you think it's safe to let your guard down, that's when the next wave hits. So you say "well he would stop letting his guard down" right? You fool. You know nothing of Goku. He would never put his guard UP. This is a human child, Goku can sense his pitiful power level. His strength? His speed? His ki? Weak. Pathetic. Nothing. A scouter wouldn't even register his power it's so low.

Goku never raises his guard to Chi-Chi, or to Bulma, or to Hercule. He does not raise his defense against normal, powerless, non-combative humans.

"BUT KEVIN IS COMBATIVE" No. He isn't. Goku can sense intent, power, and location. But Kevin isn't actively intending to hurt Goku. He's intending to protect himself and his home. He's not actively wanting to hurt Goku, he's just wanting Goku to leave. He doesn't have power to threaten Goku with, so Goku won't pick up on any threatening aura. And while Goku could simply instant transmission to Kevin and do what he will, we're not talking about how Goku could win, we're going over the fact Kevin could POSSIBLY win.

Enough injury and Goku is down for the count. Otherwise, Goku leaves to avoid further injury, and thereby admits defeat. Both cases, Kevin wins.

Shedinja

This one took me...quite a while. I had to do a lot of extra research for this. So, my immediate thought was Shedinja is a Ghost type, so ghost rules, right? Nah. Bug and Ghost type, and they are the physical shell left behind that has been reanimated. So they very much are physical beings, and given their ability to faint in the games and show they are capable of being physically damaged.

But There's a real case to be made for Shedinja beating Goku.

It can learn Ghost type moves, which operate on ghost-logic, and therefore are a canon weakness Goku is known to have. So things like Shadow Ball, Hex, Curse, and the like would all effect Goku regardless of Ki or form.

It also has access to Wonder Guard, which renders it "immune to all damage types that are not Super-Effective". For those unaware, we can actually attribute Typings to Goku's moves based on attributes and traits they share with Pokemon moves. His melee is, by nature, Fighting type, which Shedinja is immune to. In fact, Shedinja is immune to ALL attack types except Flying, Rock, Ghost, Dark, and Fire type moves, which are all Super Effective.

Goku's most common methods would actually fall under Fighting and Normal type attacks. "But his Ki blasts-" would be Normal type moves. You want proof?

Focus Energy is Normal Type. Quick Attack is Normal Type. Self Destruct is Normal Type. Techno Blast is Normal Type. Tera Blast is Normal Type. These are all energy based moves similar to ki blasts. Know what other energy based move is Normal Type? Hyperbeam. Which is almost identical to the Kamehameha and every other beam attack in DBZ.

Those few attacks Goku has that aren't going to be Normal Type will be Fighting Type.

Shedinja is Immune to all Normal and Fighting Type moves. Goku literally can not damage Shedinja, but Shedinja can damage Goku through Ghost Type moves. Shedinja can beat Goku. But why is it not "absolutely will" beat him? Because Goku can also transform his Ki and if he finds out Shedinja is vulnerable to fire, he can and will use that to his advantage.

That's who could potentially beat Goku. Here's who absolutely could not.

Saitama

I forgot to go over Saitama originally so here's the edit that features that analysis. Bear in mind I am saying this as someone who has seen Seasons 1 and 2 of the show AND is aware of some of the events of the manga.

A lot of reblogs over Saitama claim he is a gag character. But there is a case to be made that he is NOT. What is that case you ask? Well, for the sake of fairness, here is how I am handling gag characters: if their gag is in effect in 100% of all cases (such as looney tunes like Bugs or Road Runner) or if the gag is triggered in 100% of all cases (such as Saiki K or Chowder) then they are a True Gag Character and will insta-win.

However, if their gag has failed (such as Wario, or, yes, even Saitama) in ANY case, then it CAN fail again, and the fairest fight is one against two non-gag characters, so we can safely apply non-gag Saitama here since his gag has failed and Goku meets the conditions to cause it to fail again, which I'll explain.

So, first off, how does his gag fail? Well, his gag is that he kills everything instantly in one hit, unless he actively chooses not to. So we can safely say his gag fails if any of the following are true: he fails to instantly kill an enemy with a single hit while intending to do so, OR if he fails to kill an enemy with a serious hit intended to kill.

He meets both of these conditions. Boros survived for several seconds AFTER Saitama hit him with a Serious Punch. It was a single hit that intended to kill...But he didn't kill Boros INSTANTLY with it. Another example of his gag failing, if that doesn't satisfy, is Garou. Garou, in the manga, has survived MULTIPLE Serious Punches with intent to kill. This, on its own, is proof Saitama's Serious Punch does in fact have a limit to its output. It also proves his gag can, and does, fail against certain opponents.

So the next thing we need to look at is similarities between Garou and Boros to identify what they share that could possibly allow them to get around Saitama's gag, or to nullify it entirely. First similarity is that both are determined to have a good, satisfying fight. Boros crossed the stars seeking one, and Garou sought to become a true Monster powerful enough to force every hero, every do-gooder, to unite under one banner just to take him down. They both seek a battle to end all battles, even if Garou's intention is to end it in his favor, not simply enjoy the fight.

The second similarity is that they have incredibly unique circumstances, even by OPM standards. Garou is a man who has always felt love for the bad guy, he looks to the monsters as inspirations, as the misunderstood and the victimized by those claiming to be heroes. He's trained by an S-Class hero, and has developed into a being of unimaginable power in the pursuit of his dream. Very much a true foil to Saitama, who looked to heroes in comics as inspirations, as the righteous and unshakably moral, self-taught through and through and developed into a being of unimaginable power in the pursuit of HIS dream. Garou is, in this way, a reflection of Saitama, the Tails to Saitama's Heads, the dark to his light.

Boros on the other hand is an alien, forced to become strong by his homeworld's unforgiving conditions, developing a level of power necessary to survive and then some, and on realizing he was far too powerful for his own good, he sought purpose, meaning, and when he heard he may find a worthy opponent, he did everything he could to achieve that future, to realize his dream of facing a foe that would give him a true challenge.

So what are the similarities we can identify? Notably unique circumstances even by OPM standards, sharing strong similarities to Saitama's desires or dreams (Garou dreaming of becoming the greatest Monster vs Saitama dreaming of becoming the greatest Hero, Boros feeling lost in life and seeking a worthy foe vs Saitama feeling bored with living and wishing for the sensation of a real fight again), and the desire for a serious and ultimate battle.

Goku fits ALL of these conditions. He is an alien sent to Earth for his protection, grew up in hostile conditions (surviving on his own for most of his childhood, constant battles with Nation-level threats throughout his teen years, constant battles with world or universe-level threats throughout his adulthood), trained extensively until he was the best of the best, has the ultimate dream of a truly satisfying battle (a dream he routinely seeks out by facing down powerful foes), and being entirely bored with mundane life because there's absolutely no challenge to it, not to mention the fact he has the ultimate dream of becoming the strongest, something he shares with Saitama's pre-OPM self.

Since Goku fits ALL the conditions needed to make this battle exempt from the gag, we will NOT be considering it, as Saitama is not a True Gag Character, and Goku fitting conditions for nullifying it means we can assume actual power limits and such.

So let's look at feats of power. Saitama's Serious Side Hop technique allowed him to create AT LEAST 60 after-images (based on the manga panel) which, when compared with Sonic's 4, means Saitama was moving 15x faster than Sonic in that moment (bare minimum). An afterimage like that is created by moving at least 572mph, stopping in each position for at least 1/255th of a second (any less and the human eye can't pick up on it), so by moving from position A to B for 1/255th of a second and back to A, going 572mph between the two, you create the afterimage.

Sonic creates 4 simultaneously, meaning he needs to move to 3 positions and then back to starting position, or go from A to B, B to A, A to C, C to A, A to D, and repeat.

This means Sonic, to move into each of these positions in less than 1/255th of a second, would need to be moving ~4x faster than the speed for one afterimage. That puts him as moving at 2,228mph while creating those 4 afterimages. Given he is capable of Mach 5 speeds (he's said to be hypersonic) this feat is easy for him, as Mach 5 is 3,805mph. I assume, just as it's easier to move at top speed in a straight line than at sharp turns for a normal person, it's likely more difficult to create such consistent afterimages and so the difficulty that makes it his best attack is from the technique and reaction involved, not the speed itself.

In any case, if Saitama made at least 60 afterimages, putting him at 15x faster than Sonic's speed while creating 4, that puts Saitama's speed at 33,420mph just to account for the 60 we can count in the manga panel. This means 33,420 is the MINIMUM speed we can assume for Saitama's max ability. To be generous, given he wasn't winded after doing that and given he was able to react incredibly easily to the near-instant directional changes, I'll be kind and put his maximum speed at 10,000x this number.

That puts Saitama's speed at 334,200,000mph, or 49.8% the speed of light. We'll be kind again and say 50% the speed of light, round up that last .2%

So we have a speed value for Saitama. Now what about Goku? Well, let's look at Goku on Namek, for a moment. Base form Goku, at the start of his fight against Freeza. Goku, BEFORE his super saiyan transformation, was moving at 3.26 (we'll round down to 3) times the speed of light. How do I get this number? Buckle up, it's involved.

The Namekian ship Bulma, Krillin, and Gohan took to get to Namek made it from Earth to Jupiter in "seconds". That means less than a minute, so we'll say it took them 1 minute just to lowball it and to have a solid starting number. Jupiter, when the two planets are at their closest to each other (assuming shorter distance for slower speed, another lowball), is 365,000,000 miles from Earth. This means the Namekian ship moved 365mil miles in 1 minute.

That puts the Namekian ship at a speed of 21.9 billion miles per hour. They made it to Namek in 30 days of travel. The ship Goku took to Namek made the trip in 5 days. That means Goku's ship is 6 times faster than the Namekian ship. Don't worry, the ship speed DOES matter in this, I promise you.

So Goku's ship moves at 131,400,000,000mph. That's 131 billion, 400 million miles per hour. Or 195x the speed of light.

Why does the ship speed matter so much, you might ask?

Because King Kai could visually keep up with the ship. He was able to track Goku's progress with ease, and could see his ships movements without problems. This means King Kai's eyes and brain are capable of perceiving and processing things that move at 195x the speed of light.

Why does that matter? Because Super Saiyan is canonically a 50x multiplier to ALL base ability. Strength, speed, durability, etc.

And Goku, in Super Saiyan, was moving so fast King Kai stated he could no longer keep up. King Kai, capable of seeing and processing the input of vision on a ship moving 195x the speed of light, could not see or process the input of vision on Super Saiyan Goku.

We'll lowball it, and say Goku only needed to move 1 mph faster than 195x the speed of light for King Kai to lose track of him. So whatever value we get, we'll add 1mph to for Goku's base form speed.

So 195x the speed of light +1mph. 195/50=3.9x the speed of light. That's 2,616,900,000mph, adding in the extra mph makes it 2,616,900,001mph. So Base Form Goku moves at ~3.9x the speed of light, ON NAMEK. Super Saiyan is a 50x multiplier, putting him at ~195x the speed of light. Super Saiyan 2 is a 100x multiplier to Base, so 390x the speed of light. Super Saiyan 3 is a 400x multiplier, so 1,560x the speed of light. Super Saiyan God is a 20,000 multiplier so 78,000x the speed of light. Super Saiyan Blue is a 1 million times multiplier, so 3,900,000x the speed of light. And lastly, Mastered Ultra Instinct is a 300 billion times multipler, so 1.17 trillion times the speed of light.

Why did I bother going through all those multipliers? He wins in Base as of Namek saga lol. Anyway, continuing on to strength now that we've established Base Goku on Namek could move 3.9x faster than the Speed of Light while Saitama could only move at 0.5x the Speed of Light.

Strength. Okay. This one is harder to gauge, but we CAN gauge it. We'll go in terms of level of damage, so human level (would be on-par or less than peak human ability), town level (small towns), city level (large cities), nation level (an entire nation, less than a continent), continent level (one or more nations that span an entire continent), world-surface level (the surface of an Earth-sized planet), Planetary (capable of destroying an entire Earth-sized planet), Solar (capable of destroying a solar system), Galactic (capable of destroying a galaxy), multi-galactic (capable of destroying many galaxies), Universal (capable of destroying an entire universe), Multiversal (capable of destroying multiple universes).

We'll start with Goku this time. Goku's punches are, as of the Battle of Gods arc, strong enough to match Beerus perfectly to nullify the shockwaves of Beerus' attacks. Mind you, the mere shockwave of Beerus' attacks are enough to rip and tear the fabric of the universe itself, as stated by Elder Kai. This puts Goku's punches as being powerful enough to tear the fabric of the universe in when he first obtained Super Saiyan God. Why does this matter for Base Goku? Because Base Goku retained his SSJG power, as stated by Beerus.

So Goku in Base, post-battle of gods, is physically capable of punches that can tear apart the universe from the aftershocks alone. This is important to note because Elder Kai could physically feel the shockwaves from the World of the Kais. This makes Goku Universe-level in strength. This means Goku, post-BoG, in Super Saiyan is 50x stronger than what's needed for Universal, while Goku, as of current manga canon (assuming he didn't actually get any stronger since BoG and is simply more powerful due to new transformations) is capable of a form (Mastered Ultra Instinct) that puts him 300 billion times stronger than minimum Universe level strength.

And Saitama? Where does he fit here? Well, I thought this gap would be bigger honestly? But after researching, it seems the gap isn't all that big. Saitama has, canonically, with a Serious Punch, snuffed out an entire cylinder of stars and presumably every planet, moon, asteroid, and more, at a distance surpassing that of our solar system, and with a diameter surpassing it as well. This puts Saitama's power (if we lowball it MASSIVELY) at Solar. He could, in a single punch, destroy our entire solar system, and he wouldn't even need to be serious to do it. It's worth noting this is coupled with Garou's own Saitama-level Serious Punch, so we can assume this level of power is double Saitama's own.

So how do we determine the specifics? Well, he cleared an area large enough to cover, presumably, half the area of stars destroyed in the path of his and Garou's serious punches.

Through future revelations in the series we learn they didn't "destroy" every star in that path, but likely only several were destroyed, and possibly a galaxy, while the remainder of the void left behind was from the shockwave forcing every other star within range into a new position, creating a void in space that all stars had been moved from, save the few that were in the DIRECT path of their attack.

Another theory is that the Serious Punch^2 simply distorted the photons in the area, resulting in the appearance of a massive void, and this theory is based on the angles in the manga and comments made by other characters that paint Earth as the only thing in real danger from the power of the attack.

To be fair to Saitama, where we would lowball Goku, we'll highball Saitama, and say the Serious Punch^2 outright destroyed every star in the area. That level of power would, naturally, have shockwaves that push nearby stars out of the way AND distort photons in the area, resulting in a massive cone of destruction surrounded by a large cylinder of force.

This puts Saitama at, quite easily, multi-galactic level of strength.

But why did I say this gap isn't as big as I expected? One simple thing. Saitama has canonically punched his way into a different dimension in the manga. That means he's capable of brute-forcing his way out of the bounds of his universe. He is capable of physically destroying the fabric of the universe.

Meaning Saitama's strength is, bare minimum, Universal in close proximity. That puts him, strength-wise, on par with Goku, who through training has become stronger than Super Buu (who was so strong he could shout his way out of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, a dimension separate from our own), meaning Goku is also Universal in close proximity.

So...while I expected Saitama to be ~Planetary, MAYBE he'd be Solar at most...Research indicates he's actually Universal, or near-Universal, meaning the fight may not be too far a gap after all.

Goku may have Saitama beat on speed (given recent manga events in OPM, I'm willing to allow that Saitama is faster than light speed, but Goku having as many forms as he does (Kaioken, which he can combine with other forms and can hit a multiplier of x100 on top of whatever power he currently has, SSJ1-3, SSJG, SSJB, MUI) means even if Saitama matches Base Goku, he's likely not going to stand up to his stronger forms).

But on strength, I'd wager they're close enough for this fight to be one hell of a battle.

What about Durability? After all, all the strength in the world won't save you if you're as easy to kill as a simple bullet to the head, right?

Goku has withstood universe-ripping punches (from Beerus, the God of Destruction, and based on comments in the manga he's one of the stronger Gods of Destruction too), dimension-tearing attacks (from Goku Black, pre-Fusion), energy blasts that even the Gods of Destruction were nervous of (from Jiren during the Tournament of Power), and he survived multiple blasts from Granolah post-wish buff, who was renowned for his sniping power pre-wish, and post-wish was as powerful as he would be if he had spent every single second of the next 147 years training non-stop with the absolute healthiest amount of rest and physical care, making him, presently, as powerful as he would be at the END of that time, with the price paid being that he only had 3 years to live as he lost 1 year of his lifespan for each power boost.

It was also clear that Granolah was the strongest in the universe...at the time of his wish. Goku and Vegeta, who were already on their way, were not as powerful as Granolah even with their transformations. They became stronger during their fight with him, and stronger still during their fight with Gas (who was more powerful than Granolah after Gas transformed and mastered his transformation).

So we can safely assume Goku is Multiversal in Durability, as he himself was able to output Universal damage with each punch, and he was able to survive hits from beings drastically stronger than himself.

What about Saitama? Well, Saitama was able to survive the force of the Serious Punch^2 and he was able to casually bust his way into another dimension. So his Serious Punch, if he wanted it to, could easily destroy the barrier between universes or dimensions.

And given he survived the force of two of them impacting each other, I would put Saitama at, bare minimum, Universe-level durability. But given he was able to survive prolonged battle against Garou, who is a Power Mimic and has shown Saitama-level strength, we can safely assume Saitama is BEYOND Universal-level durability, and so we can put him right there with Goku at Multiversal durability.

So what do we have so far?

Goku has speed equal to, in Base Form, 3.9x lightspeed, and 1.17 trillion times lightspeed in his most powerful form.

Goku has Universal level strength in Base Form, 300 billion times that in his most powerful form.

Goku has Universal durability in Base Form, Multiversal durability in his most powerful form (300 billion times his Base Form's durability).

Saitama has speed equal to, at minimum, 0.5x lightspeed, and at maximum, if we highball it, 2x lightspeed.

Saitama has Universal strength.

Saitama has Universal durability at minimum, and Multiversal durability at maximum.

At this point, I'm convinced the speed difference between Base Goku and Saitama means nothing. Saitama's durability means even with Base Goku moving at his top speed, his impacts won't be enough to beat Saitama. At top speed Base Goku may be putting out Universal damage, but he's not putting out enough to actually BEAT Saitama. Only injure.

Making me rethink my "Goku wins in Base lol" claim earlier, how dare you!

Anyway, at this point, Goku would HAVE to transform to beat Saitama. His ability to sense power and Saitama's evident inability to suppress it (as evidenced by multiple characters sensing his ungodly power even while Saitama is completely relaxed) would mean Goku would know, right away, he needs to transform for the fight.

Saitama's durability means Goku would likely need Super Saiyan 2 or 3, or, more likely, SSJG. Super Saiyan God's multiplier to Granolah-arc Goku, after all of his training with Whis and Vegeta, would most likely be enough to beat Saitama. And given SSJG is enough to "most likely" beat him, then Super Saiyan Blue (aka Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan, the form above SSJG) is surely enough, and Mastered Ultra Instinct (a form drastically more powerful than SSJB) is absolutely more than enough to beat Saitama.

And given Goku's mastery over the Kaioken technique, and he's been shown to enter Kaioken x 20 while in Super Saiyan Blue for fair amounts of time as of the Moro saga, meaning even if SSB wasn't enough, given MUI is overkill, it's possible SSB x10 or x20 would be.

The point being, Goku wins this fight due to a combination of technique, experience, and power from his transformations. Given Goku is faster than Saitama and would sense his power as Saitama doesn't know how to suppress it, nothing Saitama could do would be a surprise attack to Goku, meaning Goku would have ample opportunity to react to everything Saitama does.

And given the relatively similar strengths the two bear, Goku would recognize he needs to transform to beat Saitama's output.

And given Saitama's greater durability than Base Goku, and greater durability than even what Saitama himself can put out, Goku would see he needs to transform to have enough of his own output to beat Saitama's durability.

Conclusion: Goku would absolutely win this fight, BUT...I'll give Saitama credit where it's due.

Out of everyone on the entire list, Saitama is the fairest matchup here, and the one most likely to give Goku a truly satisfying fight, given it would be a battle on par with those Goku has enjoyed most.

Kingdom Hearts Mickey

K.H. Mickey has a clear power limit and ability set. He is not strong enough, fast enough, smart enough, or durable enough to beat Goku, but he is just enough of a threat for Goku to actually put his guard up, which is why K.H. Mickey would lose; Goku would see it as a fight, unlike with Kevin.

Crash Bandicoot

Crash isn't nearly powerful enough to be a threat to Goku, but he IS insane enough to push Goku to hostility. Goku would feel the need to put effort into getting him away and that is his downfall.

Hatsune Miku

Goku would assume she is a Red Ribbon android and fight her on assumption she's trying to kill him or bring harm to Earth. He would hit her full force expecting her to tank it and she would keel over dead instantly.

Wario

Everything he could possibly do, the Red Ribbon Army has tried and done better, and they've never beaten Goku. Neither would he.

Sans

Lost to a child with slightly above average human determination, and standard human strength and speed. He does not beat Goku.

And just because you specifically told me not to @ you, have this :)

@that-one-enby-onyx

[nina-ya]

Can I have a scenario where Law is jealous of Bepo because you’re always hugging and cuddling with him like the big cuddle bear he is but Law is too shy to admit that he’s jealous

A/N: Hi there!! I had a lot of fun writing this I hope you enjoy! Pairing: Law x Reader CW: none just fluff WC: ~800

It’s truly hard to resist the lure of the comfort that Bepo brings. Everyone knows this. Everyone on the crew has succumbed to the furry comfort of the polar bear, and you were no different. Especially during those cold winters, trying to steal Law’s body warmth is not enough, so you often turned to the furry companion.

You often found yourself nestled comfortably against Bepos warm fur. As you lay there, you caught a glimpse of a certain captain out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t help but notice that something was wrong. You would notice how his stares would linger on the two of you when you were cuddling, or how his attitude would be the slightest more passive aggressive if you were to talk to him after cuddling the polar bear. 

You brushed off any thoughts of jealousy, chalking up the more sour behavior to stress from future plans. As the days went by though, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was indeed something wrong with Law, yet every time you would confront him, you would be met with a short and sweet “nothing’s wrong.” 

‘Nothing’s wrong’ he claimed, yet those stares never stopped that constant upset mood never stopped. It’s as if he was jealous that you were cuddling Bepo or something… holy shit he was jealous that you were cuddling Bepo!

Once you put two and two together, you couldn’t help but find this all amusing. His denial of anything being wrong was slightly infuriating, but his lack of communication is something you would work on later. For now, your main focus is exploiting that newly discovered jealousy until he owns up to it.

You started purposefully avoiding Law as often as you could to cuddle with Bepo. Every time he would see you, you would be cuddled into the side of the polar bear. This only heightened his jealousy further and further with each passing day.

Today, the Polar Tang was surfaced, and the crew took the opportunity to go star gazing at night. All of you lay on the main deck, watching the stars above, and you of course were planted right in the arms of Bepo, your new favorite spot. The crew was passing around food and drinks, chatting and laughing under the night sky, until Law left the group early. He was quieter than normal tonight, and you were honestly wondering if you were starting to take this jealousy thing too far.

Then, a blue bubble encompassed the entire deck and suddenly, you were no longer on the main deck in Bepos arms, but you were in the captains quarters, in Laws lap.

You stammered in confusion, trying to make sense of the disorientation caused by the sudden teleportation. Law’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him. As if by instinct, you melted into his arms, your body molding into his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You nuzzled your head into his neck, mumbling against his skin. “Are you okay?” The care for him evident in your tone.

He let out a small grunt in response, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Just stay with me for a bit,” he muttered to you, a subtle vulnerability laced in his voice. 

With a hum, you settled further into his arms, taking in the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body right against yours. The tension that had been building finally began to dissipate the more you settled into his touch. His tight grip around you softened, and you could feel his worries easing with the sigh he let out. It was as if all the weight of his jealousy had been lifted off his shoulders. 

You nestled closer to him, resting your head against his chest as you listened to his heartbeat. It’s moments like these where words are not needed, just each other's presence. He rested his head against your own.

Law broke the silence, “I’m sorry,” he murmured against your skin. “ “for acting so…” he trailed off, not quite sure how to articulate his feelings.

“Jealous?” you finished for him, your voice gentle as you looked at him with understanding. A pause filled the air as he took in that word. ‘Jealous’. Law hesitated for a moment before he finally nodded with reluctant agreement.

“Yeah, jealous.” he admitted, confirming your thoughts. 

You sensed his discomfort and shifted in his lap to get more comfortable. “You know,” you began, your voice tender as you reached up and brushed a stray hair from his face. “This is my favorite place. Right here, with you.” you punctuated your words by squeezing him tight. 

His eyes softened at your words, “Good,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “lets keep it that way.”

[hysteria-things]

can you do a teacher!chris and a college student pleasee. (With smut. And if you want to!!)

PROFESSOR STURNIOLO

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!teacher!chris x student!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: this isn’t your first problem with this specific professor, but at this moment you’re fed up and want to put your foot down.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, p in v, degradation, spanking, masturbation (female), making out, stomach bulge, overstimulation, dumbification, squirting, cream pie

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,535

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: we are locked in🫡

your professor dismissed class mere seconds ago, and everybody either has already left the lecture hall or is still packing up. “are you meeting us for lunch?” your friend says, zippering her bag and putting it on her shoulder.

you scoff, shaking your head. “can’t.” you say, ripping out the essay you wrote for this class that was due a few days ago. “professor sturniolo gave me an F on the essay.”

“again?” she questions genuinely shocked. “he’s got a bone to pick with you.”

this isn’t the first encounter like this you had with your professor. this class — your argument and persuasion class — is the only one you’re failing this semester.

not in your three years have you ever had this type of problem, and after many F’s, you’ve finally had enough.

“well, good luck.” your friend sighs, leaving the classroom with the remaining group.

now, that leaves you and him.

it would be a different story if you didn’t do the assignment right or didn’t try on the essay, but you’re one hell of a writer and you’re sure he knows it. you’ve always been good in school, ever since a young age.

normally you wouldn’t pick up fights with teachers, but your blood has been boiling for this dude for weeks.

“what’s your problem with me?” you say sternly, wiggling the paper in your hand as you step down to where he is.

he stops erasing the board and turns to you. “class is over, ms. l/n.”

yeah, no shit.

you roll your eyes. “so? i want to speak with you about my recent essay. you always give me F’s and never explain why. i would understand if it happened once before at the beginning of the year, but for every. single. one? it’s ridiculous.

he’s emotionless as he listens to your rambling, then he shrugs. “it wasn’t good enough.”

you crinkle the paper in your fist and slam it down on the desk in front of you. “wasn’t good enough my fucking ass, professor sturniolo. is it a favoritism thing? or are you fucking the other chicks in your class so they can have good grades? is that what i need to do? do i need to fuck you?”

the moment those words left your mouth, you knew that was a huge mistake.

you wouldn’t be surprised if he does, though. he’s not much older than you, and he is attractive.

he licks his lips, tilting his head toward himself. “bring it over.”

you gulp, feeling slightly intimidated. you uncrinkle the page and hand it to him, who is now sitting in the chair.

not even reading it, he stares at it and looks back up at you. “sorry. your paper didn’t meet the expectations.”

your pinch your lips together to keep you from screaming at him. “you didn’t even read it.” you shake your head. “i should’ve dropped this class when i had the chance. you’re cocky, and a waste of my time. i’m failing probably because your teaching sucks.”

as you start to storm out, he speaks up. “i’m going to have to clean that filthy mouth of yours.” he smirks. “teach you a much-deserved lesson, then afterward you can see if my teaching still sucks.”

you pause in your tracks, face turning beat red as you slowly turn back around. “w-what?”

he motions you to come over with his finger, and for some reason, you listen.

grabbing your wrist, he pulls you over his lap so you’re straddling him. again, you let it happen. you can’t help the wetness that starts to pool between your legs.

“you can admit it, you know,” he whispers, dragging his hand from your waistband to your mouth. he grazes his thumb over your bottom lip.

“a-admit what?” you stammer, shuffling in his lap which causes him to groan and hold your hips.

he chuckles. “deep down you want me to fuck you. i bet you touch yourself to the thought of me like a desperate little thing.”

you look away, face turning even redder than before if possible. “nuh-uh.”

“your face says otherwise.” his whisper shoots a chill up your spine as he starts to unbutton your shorts.

the way your fingers move quickly inside of you have your eyes shut with your mouth dangled open.

you were lucky enough to get a single dorm, so you can do whatever you want without being sneaky about it.

the way your legs are spread makes your fingers dig deeper, curling to hit the right spot. you grip onto your sheets tight, moans and other loud noises leaving your lips.

your previous orgasms make a mess below you or the back of your thighs, but you don’t stop. you’ve been at this for almost an hour because your mind is only focused on one thing.

your lecturer.

professor sturniolo.

“shit.” you pant, your orgasm building for the nth time. you let go of the sheets to massage your breast, pinching at your nipple from time to time.

you whine. “just like that.”

legs shaking, your fingers get coated with yet another orgasm, but you wish it wasn’t your fingers.

you wish it were his.

your shorts are now on the floor, along with your shirt, underwear, and bra. chris still has his clothes on except for his pants.

hovering just above his tip, your lips move in sync with each other. his tongue fights yours, and the erotic sounds of you two kissing fill your ears.

his hands rub along your back before spanking you hard, ruining the intimate moment. you pull away to gasp.

“sit,” he demands, mouth agape as he looks down to watch you try to sink onto his dick.

you grunt from the pleasurable pain, stopping just about midway. he’s probably the biggest you’ve ever seen. “it’s not gonna fit.” you whine.

“i’ll make it fit.”

with that, he grips onto your ass, hammering up into you without being able to adjust first.

you grab onto his shoulders for dear life. you moan uncontrollably, the feeling of him raw inside of you making you grin like a fool.

you’ve been wanting him to do this for a very long time.

“look at you.” he starts, smacking your ass to have you jolt. “having the professor you allegedly hate balls deep in you.”

“i-i do— ha-ate you.” you struggle to get out, a hand landing on your asscheek again.

“is that so?” he mocks, waiting for you to talk back but instead you moan even louder. he nods. “that’s what i thought.”

he bites his lip, looking at the way your tits bounce rapidly and at the bulge in your belly, eyes widening slightly. he’d never seen something like that before.

“i should keep you around more often after class.” he groans, seeing your face of pleasure.

eyes rolled back, mouth hung open, hair disheveled and sticking to your forehead from sweating.

“you make a pretty little cocksleeve.”

that sentence makes you clench around him, your body starting to quiver from the overwhelming feeling. “ngh— feels so go-od. y-you make me feel s-so good.” you whimper. “wanna cum!”

“not until you apologize.” he tuts, grabbing and then spanking your ass. “say you’re sorry, and i might let you cum.”

you whine, his cock now kissing your g-spot more than it did before. “i’m s-sorry.”

“for?”

“for— mm!” you squeal. “for being b-bad.”

“and?”

“and-and—” you can’t finish because of the sudden clear liquid squirting out of you, now making your pussy squelch more than it was before. your back arches even harder, your brain all dazed and dumb from the overstimulation.

you start to lose stability from being too weak, so chris has to hold you by your arms.

he groans, shaking his head at the terrible mess you are making. “come on. you can do it.”

tears spill from your eyes, sobs running past your lips. “a-and for t-talking back. fuck!”

his dick twitches inside, his thrusts getting sloppy. “i hope you’re on the pill because i’m going to fill you deep, baby.”

you can only make sounds, so a high-pitched moan echoes throughout. you’re seeing stars the closer your orgasm approaches before it finally snaps and you’re smearing the ring of white around his dick.

he doesn’t stop, causing your body to twitch in his grasp as another orgasm builds since he’s still fucking deep to your g-spot.

“close again?” he laughs fake. “scream for me. let people know how much of a slut you are; letting your teacher use you to get a better grade.”

your body slowly starts becoming limp, eyes fluttering closed as you moan.

he spanks you for the last time, not caring that his job is on the line.

“louder. they can’t hear you.”

screaming this time, you cum once again when he holds you down on his shaft. you collapse onto his chest, quiet sobs leaving your lips as you feel his cum start to fill you.

he peppers kisses on your shoulders, peeking over them to grab a pen and clicking it open. he scribbles over the previous grade on your essay to write a new one.

A+

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturniol0s @catalina-island @mbsbaby @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopeno1

[babysukiii]

regina’s puppy (1)

// regina has a soft spot for you, but when she refuses to accept why, someone else might swoop in and take your attention away from her. //

warnings: mean!regina (not to reader), protective!regina, oblivious/innocent!reader, pinning, mutual pining but reader thinks it’s one-sided, use of “y/n”.

regina george definitely has a soft spot for you. if you ask her, she’d refer to it as a weak spot; resembling more like an invisible bruise inside of her that only you could see. you’d push and push it, til it bruises some more. until she’d sickly do just about anything you ask. it wasn’t a secret either; regina could be in the middle of being the worst human being on campus, and you’d just walk up to her with those big eyes of yours.

“hey gina!”

“did you see the new shake flavor at sonic? wanna ditch and go?”

“i stayed up all night reading the bell jar!”

regina would shift her undivided attention onto you within a millisecond, and you didn’t even realize it. you were so obliviously innocent. you didn’t have an underlying reason for getting close to the queen bee, you just caught her reading a book one day and started talking her ear off about it. the blonde, who got pure joy out of making girls like you cry, for some reason didn’t have it in her to tell you to fuck off or call you a dork. there was something about you that regina couldn’t quite place; it was something that made her heart flutter in her chest.

maybe it didn’t fully hit regina just how bad she had it for you until junior year. it was the middle of fall, and you had rushed up to her with a pair of sad eyes. “hey gina.” you greet her, but it isn’t your usual eager greeting. regina looks away from the mirror in her locker, looking at you. her brows furrow and a wave of concern washed over her, as she realizes you appear upset. “what’s wrong?” she demands, not even bothering to say hi back. “stacy matthew’s said i can’t be in debate club. she says i’m really nice and that’s not what they’re looking for.” you admit, and regina can feel the rage course through her before she slams her locker shut.

“where the fuck does stacy matthew’s get off telling you that you can or can’t be in debate club? she’s a fucking dork. come on.” she grabs your wrist and your eyes widen, shaking your head in protest but the blonde is already set on giving the raven haired girl a piece of her mind. nobody was going to make you sad and get away with it. “gina it’s okay i—“ you try but regina is already turning down the hallway, making her way up to a random group of students. they all go quiet as soon as regina is near. “where’s matthew’s?” regina questions demandingly, causing one of the students to nearly begin to tremble.

“st-stacy? she’s in the library i think—“ regina doesn’t even let the poor girl finish before she’s dragging you in the direction of the library. you weren’t really sure what you were expecting when you told regina about why you got rejected from the debate club, but this certainly wasn’t it. you weren’t expecting her to storm into the library. “everyone out.” she commands, and just like that, every student in the library is scurrying out. “not you.” the blonde hisses as she glowers at stacy who was in the middle of gathering her belongings. you watch the girl tense up, freezing, and a part of you feels guilty because of how terrified she looks.

“so it’s come to my attention that you think your dorky little debate club is too good for y/n…” regina trails off, and stacy’s eyes widen as her gaze flutters over to you. “don’t look at her for help, look at me.” regina snaps her fingers in stacy’s face; her behavior should cause you to be horrified, yet you can’t deny the heat at the bottom of your belly that comes from watching regina defend you. “it’s not— i didn’t say we were too good, i said she was too nice, regina. you know it too, that’s why you’re here debating for her.” stacy’s comment causes you to look down at your shoes, knowing she isn’t wrong.

“y/n is smarter than you will ever be. her gpa is higher than yours, and she had better exam grades last year. she doesn’t need to be a cunt to debate, she just has to be right… and she always is. you didn’t deny her a spot in your club because she’s too nice. you’re afraid she’s better than you.” regina hits her right where it hurts, and the way stacy’s face morphs into an ugly angry expression causes your eyes to widen. you had actually believed stacy when she said you were too nice for debate club, but now as you watch her react to regina’s accusations, you realize she only said that because she didn’t want you in the club at all.

“i’ll give you the rest of tonight to reconsider giving her a spot on the debate team. if you don’t, i have no control over whether or not the club gets banned… i mean, considering my parents are the ones who fund it.” regina puts on her best falsified sorry expression, and it causes stacy’s eyes to widen at the threat. her eyes lock with yours before regina clasps a hand around your wrist. she drags you out of the library, muttering angrily as she does so. “ugh, the nerve of that fucking bitch.” regina sounds genuinely upset, and you frown.

“you didn’t have to do that…” you whisper, barley being able to find your voice. she comes to a stop, turning around to face you with a deadly serious expression etched onto her features. “i did because you would’ve just let it go. she can’t just act like the queen of debate club; even the cheerleaders started being inclusive!” regina rambles a bit, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling. “yeah but i’m pretty sure debate club is all stacy matthew’s has. it’s fine. i mean, it’s not fine, but it’s clearly more important to her.” you shrug easily and regina huffs in clear frustration.

“that’s exactly why people think you’re too nice! you can’t just let people do or say whatever they want to you, and just let it go! just twelve minutes ago you wanted to cry about it.” regina points out, and you press your lips together. “if i held on to it every time someone upset me, i’d be a really sad person.” you confess lightly, but this does nothing to ease regina’s anger. “well, i’ll hold on to it for you. she’s going in the burn book.” regina mutters the last part, making you a quirk a brow at her. “the burn book?” you question, and she purses her lips tightly, realizing she might have said to much.

“it’s just this thing the girls and i have been working on…” regina’s demeanor shifts, and your brows knit together. “you and the girls? as in gretchen and karen? can i see?” you ask hopefully, and regina shakes her head quickly “no way.” she answers, and as soon as she sees you deflate, a look of disappointment taking over your features, she relents. “it’s not finished yet, and it’s kind of a secret…” she trails off, “i promise i won’t tell anyone! at all! not even riley.” you promise, mentioning your best friend who’s being home schooled this year. regina chews on her bottom lip; she’s well aware the burn book is just a harsh joke her and her friends came up with. but she isn’t sure whether you’d think it’s funny or not.

though regina can’t seem to be able to tell you no. “okay, but most of it was gretchen.” she lies as she begins to lead you towards the exit of the school. karen and gretchen furrow their eyebrows in clear confusion as they watch their best friend leave with you. even though school ended almost half an hour ago, usually regina would opt to hang out with the plastics. sometimes she even just stayed after school to “ogle” the football team during practice. but here regina was, leaving school with you. sure, her friends knew about her weird tolerance of you… but now you were hanging out?

“wait are we going to your house?” you ask uncertainly as you both approach her expensive car. she flashes you a look that says “duh”, “that’s where the book is.” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “shouldn’t you call your mom and ask her for permission for me to come over?” you inquire timidly, and although the butterflies in her stomach flutter due to how adorable you are, she rolls her eyes feigning annoyance. “she doesn’t care. get in, loser.” she commands, and you immediately obey; getting into the passenger side.

regina’s car smells like her perfume, and the backseat is messy. “your moms so cool for letting you drive by yourself with just your permit.” you say out loud and regina shrugs, “she’s alright.” she mutters as she hands you her phone. “pick a song.” she insists and your cheeks flush. “o-okay.” the way you stutter causes you to mentally facepalm, but regina finds it hard to stifle a smile at how cute she finds you. you put on a taylor swift song, and she snorts, “so cliche.” she says, her eyes unusually soft, as the sky and your heart does this pathetic little lurch at the sight of her smiling. regina looks so beautiful when she smiles; it almost makes you forget how she almost made stacy matthew’s piss herself a little while ago.

regina’s house is even bigger than you imagined. you knew her family was rich, but you didn’t think they were this wealthy. your eyes are as big as dinner plates as you look around the house. as soon as you walk in you can hear regina’s little sister in the living room; practicing dance routines in front of the tv. “ignore her that’s my sister kylie. everything she does, i did it first.” regina retorts simply, and you raise your brows as you follow her through her house. “hi honey! i made lunch— oh, who’s this?” a woman who you assume is regina’s mom comes out of the kitchen.

she’s wearing tight leggings and a top that barely covers anything. regina grimaces at the sight of her mom, “this is my friend, y/n. we’re gonna be upstairs for awhile. don’t bother us.” she warns harshly, and you offer the older woman a bashful smile. “it’s nice to meet you, mrs. george.” you let out before regina pulls you up the stairs, and towards her room. “your mom seems… nice.” you say as nicely as you can, and she scoffs. “she’s totally embarrassing. she lives vicariously through me.” she deadpans as you both walk into her bedroom.

her room is exactly how you imagined it. it’s pink and girly; there are various posters of celebrities on the walls. her bed was huge. “your room is so cool!” you exclaim, and she tries to fight the grin tugging at her lips. “it’s okay. i’ve been meaning to redecorate it, but i’m gonna make gretchen do it.” regina snickers and you giggle. “that’s mean.” you halfheartedly respond, and she tenses up. she wonders if you’ll laugh that way when you see the burn book. even though you aren’t in it, she isn’t sure if anyone you know is.

“so where’s the book?” you ask curiously as you take a seat on the corner of her bed. regina’s smile falls as she keeps her back to you, she reluctantly disappears into her closet, only to reappear with a big pink book in her hands. your eyes light up as she makes her way over to you, and sits by you. “you have to promise you won’t leave after reading this.” she states stringently, making you pause. you look at her in confusion, “it’s just… this book is like a fucked up version of the year book. we make fun of all the girls from school in it.” she admits hesitantly, and your face falls.

“am… am i in it?” you quietly ask, and regina shakes her head rapidly. “no! no, you’re not.” she promises and you nod. “okay, so why would i get mad?” you question, and regina sighs as she opens the book. you begin to read all of the cruel things her and her friends write about other girls. when you get to the part where regina makes fun of becky martin for getting a bob freshman year, you involuntarily giggle. suddenly there’s this lightbulb that lights up above her head.

“y/n, you should sit with me at lunch tomorrow.” she says, and you tense up, prying your eyes away from the burn book to look at regina. “you mean with you and the plastics?” you ask uncertainly, and regina rolls her eyes. “why does everyone call them that?” she mutters, and you shake your head. “because you’re all perfect like plastic barbie dolls.” you answer simply, and this causes the blonde to quirk her eyebrows to her hairline. “you think gretchen and karen are perfect?” she asks with a scoff, and you nod quickly. “duh! you’re all so… pretty. everyone knows girls like me don’t sit at the “it” table.” you half joke, and regina rolls her eyes.

“i decide who sits at that table, and i’m deciding you’re sitting there with us from now on.” regina stringently states, her tone indicates she’s up for no debates. “we’ll start by giving you a makeover.” she declares, as she gets up. “come on, we’re going to the mall.” she adds, and you throw her an “are you serious” sort of look. “gina… i really don’t think that’s a good idea.” you try, but she pulls you off the bed, and onto your feet. “i’m already picturing how cute you’d look in bellbottoms.” she says, as she drags you out of her bedroom, the burn book long forgotten.

“i can’t buy bellbottoms! they’re like forty bucks a pair!” you stress, as regina leads you down the stairs, never once letting go of your hand. “i have my dads card, relax.” she assures you easily, and you frown, but don’t protest. you know better than to try and argue with regina, especially when you’d let her get away with anything and you think she knows it.

regina ends up spending over four hundred dollars on you, much to your dismay. no matter how much you protest, or try to secretly put items back, she was hellbent on giving you a makeover. thankfully regina claimed you had flawless features that didn’t need makeup, so you avoided the makeup stores altogether. when regina drops you off at your house, you have a hand full of shopping bags and you have to rush to your room in secrecy. fortunately your brothers are too transfixed with some horror video game, and your older sister was nowhere to be seen.

as soon as you’re in the privacy of your bedroom, you let out a little breath. today was the strangest day ever. you were used to your strange friendship with regina, but it was usually only a few meaningful conversations here and there. regina george was never full on “queen bee” around you for some reason, but she had never defended you like she did today. a part of you felt bad about telling regina what stacy did, but the way the blonde threatened the debate teams captain for you made your heart flutter.

tomorrow you were having lunch with regina and “the plastics”; you had to pick an outfit before you went to sleep which was out of the ordinary for you. you’ve never been the type to get ready for school, but there’s this insistent need to impress regina that you suddenly have. the way she ogled you when you had tried on the out of character outfits made your stomach tingle. the nerves in your body only increase as you think about it. as you stare at the various shopping bags, you know there’s no going back now; you feel indebted to regina george.

[ellecdc]

Recently got diagnosed with POTS, thinking about poly!marauders and/or poly!moonwater fussing about Remus and Reader during their respective flare-ups. I just know they'd be carrying around electrolyte water, glucose gummies etc everywhere and anywhere - completely unafraid to curtly just tell the two of them that they need to sit down when out and about. Just the thought of being looked after so well has gotten me through this diagnosis and I thought I'd share <3

you're literally the coolest person I know; THANK YOU for sharing this with me and also, thank you for letting me spend some time with this so I could turn it into a little blurb <3 <3 <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who has POTS [1.2k words]

CW: chronic pain/pain management, reader is diagnosed with POTS, Sirius is a master complainer, fluff

James was a firm believer that if he took one of those muggle quizzes that told him what his love language was, he would get all of them. 

Physical touch? Couldn’t get enough of it. Acts of service? Consider it done. Gift giving? His specialty, if he did say so himself. Words of affirmation? He was simply overflowing with flowery words for his partners. Quality time? There’s nothing he liked doing more than spending time with those he loved. 

Though James thought himself to be talented in every language of love, when push came to shove he had to admit that his favourite way to show love was through acts of service. 

It started back in Hogwarts in way of taking dutiful notes for Remus when he’d frequently miss classes. Then it came in the form of back breaking research and becoming an illegal animagus so one of his favourite people in the whole world wouldn’t have to suffer the full moons alone anymore. Then it came in the form of making sure Sirius had a family and a place to call home when it was no longer safe for him to stay at the house in which he was raised.

And lately, it came in the form of navigating Remus’ full moons with a well-practised sort of ease that only years of experience could cause, and helping you through your diagnosis.

Neither of which he minded in the slightest; there was nothing James Potter liked more than feeling useful and needed. And sure, neither you nor Remus needed James, but he liked to believe that he could in some ways make your lives a little easier.

Whilst that was all well and good, something he admittedly had a hard time doing was receiving every love language - namely, gifts or acts of service.

Which is why he probably seemed extremely fidgety and flighty as he waited in the long line at the Quidditch World Cup that you, Sirius, and Remus had treated him to for his birthday. 

“Do these lines seem particularly long to you?” James asked no one in particular as he craned his neck to see how close the group of you might be to the Puddlemere United booth.

“These lines seem rather average for a sporting event, Jamie.” You chuckled, though he couldn’t help but notice how heavily you were leaning against Sirius. 

“Are you feeling okay, angel?” He asked quickly, and you grimaced as Remus turned his attention towards you as well.

“She’s alright, Jamie; I’ve been looking after her.” Sirius placated as he tightened his protective embrace around your shoulders. 

“I think we should find somewhere to sit down.” James declared, earning him more than a few protests from your group. 

“Prongs, we’ve been in this line for so long; we can take a break after we get your jersey signed, yeah?” Remus offered. 

James made a protesting sound in the back of his throat but didn’t press the matter; simply pulling the rucksack off of his back and digging through it for his supplies. “Can you drink this for me, angel?”

You shot him a rather exasperated smile but took the bottle of electrolyte water from him dutifully. “You’re fussing, Jamie.”

“Uhm, no.” James argued as haughtily as he could manage as he pulled a few glucose chews out for you. “I’m loving, thank you very much.” 

“Are you feeling alright, dove?” Remus murmured quietly as you handed your drink back to James. 

“Are you feeling alright, Moony?” You countered, raising your eyebrows at your boyfriend who had very little room to be fussing over you as he leaned heavily on his cane in a way that told the group of you that his hip was screaming. 

“No, you’re right, we should leave.” James decided then, hiking his bag back over his shoulder and moving to bend under the ropes currently controlling the line when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Jamie? Please?” You asked softly, your eyes wide and earnest as you silently begged him to stay. 

“But-”

“We’ve waited all this time; Rem on his bad hip, me with my bad…everything-”

“Oi!” Sirius chided for your self-deprecation.

“-because we want to and we’re happy to. We wanted to do this for you.”

James hesitated as his eyes flit nervously between you, Remus, and Sirius who were looking at him pleadingly, patiently, and exasperatedly respectively. 

“Prongs, for fucks sake, let someone else fuss over you for once?” Sirius ordered as he encouraged James forward in line that had moved two groups forward during James’ fussing. 

“It’s really Moons you need to worry about, James.” Sirius mollified. “Our dolly here is way better at agreeing to go for a cwtch than Mr.‘I’m perfectly fine’ is.”

“I resent that.” Remus muttered as he pointed his nose in the air; knowing damn well Sirius was quite right but would obviously rather die than admit it. 

“Okay…” James relented warily; giving the three of you one last look over before turning his attention back towards the line. They were making some progress now.

“That does sound nice, though…” Remus offered tentatively, narrowing his eyes at his partners. “A cwtch.”

“Can we? Lie down in the tent for a bit after this?” You asked then, batting your lashes at James in a way you knew would have him eating out of the palm of your hand like this had all been your idea from the very beginning.

“Yes.” James agreed readily, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before pulling Remus down into one of his own.

“No one asked me if I was ready for a nap; what if I was just dying to continue spending my time out in the blazing sun, hm?” Sirius badgered, pretending to be miffed as he accepted James’ hand into his own without a second thought.

“Do you want to continue spending time out in the blazing sun?” James murmured into his hair, breathing out a laugh as Sirius all but melted into his frame. 

“No; I’m getting a sunburn and my hair is sticking to my neck.” He whined.

“Sorry guys.” James called over to you and Remus. “We’re gonna have to take Pads back to the tent after this; he can’t possibly stay out in this heat any longer.”

You giggled and Remus let out a good natured chuckle as he kneaded at the muscles between your neck and shoulder. “I think we can make that sacrifice, can’t we dove?”

You nodded as you looked up at Remus conspiratorially. “They’re so high maintenance though, aren’t they?”

“Just the worse.” Remus agreed readily. 

“Hey Jamie?”

“Yeah, angel?” 

“Can I have more water, please?”

James beamed a smile at you as Sirius quickly dug into James’ rucksack. “Of course you can, my love.” 

Yup; James was certain that his favourite way to love was taking care of you three in any way he could.

[mieczyhale]

if you actually cared about palestinians, if you actually wanted to help people in gaza, you would donate to accredited organizations that are actually making a difference

throwing your money at every gofundme you get sent is performative, it's ignorant, it's a real 'head empty' move. something a child with no internet knowledge or common sense would do.

and to continue to defend doing that just shows that you don't actually care about helping people in gaza. you just don't want to be wrong. you don't want to admit that maybe you've been wasting your own money and the money of those who follow you and follow the links you share

you can't vet gofundme's. 'reverse image search' isn't actually vetting. and you can't trust every person on tumblr who says 'trust me!'

i can't believe any of this actually has to be pointed out in the first place, let alone driven home repeatedly because y'all refuse to even CONSIDER you JUST MIGHT be wrong. that you just might have fallen for propaganda and lies designed to hit your desire to do right, do good, and help (falling for those things btw is common. it's easy. you're not bad for getting caught up in it, but i am judging you if you refuse to consider that might be where you are.) (this actually applies to gofundme scams AND whatever heinous antisemitic alternate universe you're living in due to the non-facts you eat for every meal)

i'm not a zionist

i can't be. i'm not jewish.

but i am pro-peace, pro-two state solution, pro jewish self determination, pro palestine's continued existence, anti-ANYONE dying, and beyond fucking tired of y'all's bullshit

stop being fucking stupid

stop throwing your money in the trash

stop acting like your hate isn't hate

stop acting like you're on some fucking high horse and you have all the facts despite actually knowing absolutely fucking nothing because you refuse to listen to a single real non-token jew. you're antisemitic. i don't care that you don't think you are. you are. so many of you just are. and you don't get to decide you're not. just like a racist doesn't get to decide they aren't racist. if people in a group are calling you something there just might be a fucking reason for it, kathy

re-learn your internet safety, turn your brain back on, hop off the hate bandwagon, educate yourself beyond surface level shit the internet presents you with, make informed decisions based on facts, do things that will ACTUALLY help people in gaza.

be fucking better. do fucking better.

[indecisivemuch]

~ Titles ~

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You are determined to steal the title of best swordsman from Luke. You proposed a spar, which led to unsuspecting confessions and an alternate proposal/offer. (fluff, pining, playful rivals to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: some sexual innuendos but nothing explicit. Violence? (you two sparred).

Note: he’s like one of my only age appropriate crush if I’m honest LMAO. The others are all much older 😭

Word count: 4k

You wanted many things. You wanted glory, you wanted to have the highest winning streak to capture the flag, and you also wanted Luke’s head on a stick…sometimes. 

Oh yes, Luke has heard it all from your pretty mouth, and it does not get less amusing every time. In fact, the whole camp seemed to enjoy the banters between the two of you. At one point, it escalated to bets among campers on whether you or Luke would win against one another in things. Initially, both of you were shocked at the discovery. But when the surprise wore off, both of your competitiveness only amplified. Capture the flag became your guys’ war zone, and even silly things like who could finish chores quicker was a competition.

However, despite the rivalry being kind of playful, there was one thing you swore your heart upon winning - Luke’s title.

“Ah, well, if it isn’t the best swordsman,” you greeted as you spotted him approaching.

“If it isn’t the best flag captor,” indeed, you were always assigned to snag the flag due to your combat skills.

“And soon to be the best swordsman,” you added.

“You keep saying that but haven’t even gotten close.”

“I’m literally the second best.” The second those words left your mouth, you wished they didn’t. From the number of years you’ve known Luke, you could very well predict what he was going to say next, and because of that, you realized you just walked straight into his trap. You glanced up at the boy, only to see him already cheekily peering down at you with twinkles in his eyes - the sweet look of victory casting over his face.

“Ah, yes…second best,” the smugness interlacing Luke’s otherwise swoon-worthy voice made you scoff.

You never actually hate Luke, but neither were you two friends who hung out. You both were in different friend groups, rarely in the same space without making a quick remark or two, though they were all interlaced with a humorous undertone. There was a thin line between rivals and somewhat friends that you both mingled on without crossing. You would never tell him or admit it out loud, but Luke played a huge part in shaping who you are today as a Demigod. He constantly challenged you, which pushed you to take steps to become better. Over time, you two even slipped into a routine. You were each other’s sparring partners and, strangely enough, each other’s choice when it comes to quest partners.

You remember the first time Luke did it. Three years ago, you used to believe that he genuinely hated your guts and loved making fun of you for his own amusement. So when Chiron asked Luke to pick two companions for his quest, he named you without an ounce of doubt in his voice. You almost had a whiplash looking over at the boy who just called out your name.

“Not for long,” you settled on replying after rolling your eyes.

When you glanced back at him, Luke was giving you the look. The one where his lips were sculpted in a challenging and somewhat arrogant smirk, contrasting with the soft gaze that would always pair with it. It was as if he wanted you to know that despite his annoying habit of riling you up, he’d never cross any line that you would not let him, and he’d never push any buttons that you’d say were off limits. It was charming and sweet in a sense, though your mind dismissed that belief every single time and blamed it on your heart for being delusional. However, boy oh boy, your body reacted to it like Zeus has personally struck you with thunder every single time. Your lungs would collapse and malfunction for a second; your eyes would hold still and at him as if turned to stone by Medusa; your tongue seemed to have been frozen; your voice as if taken by Ursula. But amidst that mess, your heart would be beautifully embracing this feeling that it was harboring. It was something you never acknowledged or wanted to label because you knew it would be put into the universe as soon as you did that.

“I have a proposal,” you said, after forcing yourself out of that flustered state. 

“I’m listening,” Luke crossed his arms, and you almost gulped at how they bulked up when he did so.

“We spar. If I win, I get the title of best swordsman. You win, you can get anything you want,” you named the terms.

“Anything?” Luke asked, tilting his head with amusement twinkling in his eyes as you confirmed by nodding. “Ok, deal,” he drew a hand out, prompting you to shake it, which you mindlessly did. Little did you know, Luke did it on purpose as an excuse to hold your hand, even if it was for only a split second. 

It was sort of pathetic, and Luke knew it. But there was nothing else he could do. The only way he could ever touch you was either small actions like handshakes or getting punched by you. The latter happened more frequently as the two of you sparred together more. The both of you didn’t make a habit of hurting each other, but it was bound to happen when practicing combat. 

As toxic and insane as it sounded, Luke was somewhat addicted to the infrequent pain that you were inflicting on him. One, because he got to feel your touch, albeit it was aggressive. Two, the worried look on your face - the closest he thought he would feel to you caring about him as much as he cared about you. Three, waking up the next day with purple bruises left by you, which, to him, was the only substitute for the type of purple marks he wanted you to leave on him.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you retracted your hand and got into position.

“Don’t you wanna know what I’d get if I win?” something in Luke’s eyes told you that whatever he had in mind was pure trouble, and he knew you had this urge to know everything. So you purposefully ignored asking about it.

“I don’t need to know, ‘cause that won’t happen anyway,” as you turned away, Luke let out a chuckle as his eyes softened at the sight of you. He knew that you know of the fact that he knows you well. Years of bantering and shy glances over your way when you weren’t aware has also taught him many things about you. Like how you prefer tabbing over highlighting your books, or how you’d always strike on the side first when combating others but would always change it up when it comes to him, or that your smile slightly tilted to the right when you are genuinely happy, or the fact that your love language was act of service because you were always going out of your way for the people you love.

At a far enough distance, you finally turned back at Luke but was caught off guard when you saw his sword already swinging at you. Years of practice forced your reflexes into action, and you caught his sword midair with your own.

“Woah, we never agreed that it started,” you yelled, pushing him and his sword away from you and yours.

“Do monsters wait for you to be ready during quests, sweetheart?” The mocking tone should not be affecting you the way it did, but it elicited this feeling of sheer annoyance and unleashed a hunger for victory. Luke got into a fighting stance as well, “Well then, ready whenever you are.”

You practically swung at him, and your swords clashed at an alarming rate to outsiders. But you two were experts at swordsmanship. Every move was quick and with ease. However, as Luke predicted, your eagerness to win was eroding your strategic senses. Taking advantage of this, he was planning to strike your armor next, aiming to create a mark on it. But you unexpectedly dodged down, and he was not prepared enough to change his course of action. 

Within seconds of a gasp escaping your lips, Luke halted still as his jaw dropped in horror upon realizing what he had done. He called out your name, trying to come nearer to inspect the consequences of his action.

Thunder started sounding as the gray clouds finally cast water upon you two. You traced your hand along the mark that was left on your cheek, eying the blood that was now on your finger. As raindrops landed on your hand and diluted the substance, you realized your attacks in the last five minutes have been too impulsive and you needed to keep your emotions at bay.

“Y/N?” Luke called out again, though it reeked a new level of worry this time. Luke was afraid he had crossed a line. Despite sparring many times in the past, Luke had never caused harm to your face before. In fact, he has always been careful to minimize the injuries he would inflict on you.

Luke held back the urge to rub his hand over where his heart would be to soothe it as his mind wandered off to the possibility of you hating him genuinely and never wanting him around again. He never told you, but the reason he trained so hard to become the best swordsman - apart from for glory - was for you. He knew you were also good at it and hoped the title would make you notice him. 

You averted your attention back to him and drew your sword up again. 

“What? You’re scared you won’t be the only one who looks good with a scar on their face anymore?” you asked, arching your eyebrow.

“Oh, so you think I look good with the scar?” Luke bantered back, though you could tell there was an immense relief that he was feeling. Taking advantage of his distracted state, you struck again, but he managed to dodge just in time.

The fight went on for another twenty minutes. You were too focused to see, but Luke was surprised by how you chose to attack him this time. However, you miscalculated Luke’s next move and had to abruptly try to dodge his attack. But by taking a step back, you gave him the perfect chance to strike. Within seconds, he managed to disarm and send you to the ground. 

Like the last thousands of spars, the tip of his sword ended up near your throat as an indication of checkmate. You knew you could make no more moves - definitely not without your sword. You lifted both hands up slightly in a motion of surrender, biting the inside of your cheeks as you peered up at him. 

Right now, sweat and rain were dripping down the side of Luke’s face. They rolled down his scar - that goddamn scar that never failed to make you go borderline feral with visions of the kisses you’d bless them with if you were given the chance to. His dark, wet curls were clinging onto his forehead, and the same colored eyes gazed down at you. They were so cocky, almost condescending, yet so hot it made you want them to be kept on you forever. 

You hated to admit it, but he looked so hot fighting you were willing to purposefully lose sometimes.

Little did you know, it drove him to the wall that you were peering up at him like this: cheeks flushed, heavy breath, and those goddamn eyes peering through your pretty lashes that could convince him to do absolutely everything you’d ask. The sight of you made Luke want to spill his guts and tell you everything he had been locking up inside his mind.

He extended one hand out to help you up. Like always, you accepted his offer and got up from the ground.

As you were about to let go of Luke’s hand, he slightly tightened his grip, and your heart fluttered at the action. He was staring at your guys’ hands in deep thought before softly rubbing his thumb across your fingers and knuckles. The way Luke delicately did so vastly contrasted with how he was fighting you during every spar. For a second, you wondered what it would be like to be loved by him and be held so tenderly.

“It’s okay, you know…” Luke spoke, breaking the peace from the sound of rain hitting the soil beneath them.

“What? Be defeated?”

“You may be the second-best swordsman in this camp-”

“Geez, thanks for reminding me that I’m only second best,” you playfully commented.

“But you’re first place...in here.” Luke pointed right at his heart using the hand that was not on yours. You stare at it with your mouth slightly agape.

“Stop playing around with me,” you almost stuttered, refusing to believe Luke was not trying to fool you for a quick laugh.

“I’m not,” Luke rebutted and pulled your hand towards his chest, causing your heart to flutter at the action. But unlike that small kick in your heart, when your palm lay between Luke’s hand and his heart, you could hear his heart beating like an engine that had lost control. Your jaw fell agape at the contact and the speed of his heartbeat. When you looked up at him, the earnest look on Luke’s face made you know that whatever he was planning to say was indeed from his whole heart.

“Third week at camp, I got knocked down by this much older kid during capture the flag, who wanted to maim me for some reason. You swept in, pushed him into the lake nearby and pulled me to run away with you before that kid could get out of the water and chase after us. It felt like I was lovestruck or something, but I could not keep my eyes off you after that. Somehow, you always draw my attention in any crowded room,” Luke blushed at his confession, shyly avoiding eye contact with you. “But after that, I think you sort of forgot who I was because you weren’t acknowledging me at all, and so the fifteen-year-old me thought maybe I needed to throw sarcastic remarks or say stupid things to make sure that my crush would remember me and know that I exist. Hence-”

“The banters,” you finished off for him. 

“And the rivalry. It’s pathetic, I know,” Luke added.

You were in awe of viewing things from Luke’s perspective. Because from your side, you did remember that day very vividly. The reality was you were too nervous to interact with the boy again after the incident, growing shy at the thought of talking to a cute boy. So you pretended that nothing had happened.

“Fast forward to when I returned from that quest that gave me the dragon scar. People weren’t exactly different, but I could feel that they were somewhat tiptoeing around me as if I was…damaged,” Luke’s eyes hollowed for a second, and you could see that he was being sucked back into the memories. But his absent state of mind didn’t last long, and his eyes lit up again as the boy continued, “But you were the one thing that did not change. You didn’t treat me any differently. Your remarks and blunt insults became fresh air for me. I never told you, but every time we interacted back then - every time you talked to me, insulted me, or even looked at me, it felt like…I could finally breathe in that suffocating time period. Seeing you suddenly became necessary, and I think that was when I realized…”

With your hand on Luke’s chest still, you could feel his heart start beating even faster, if that was possible, as if trying to break free from his ribcage. 

“I think that was when I realized I was in love with you,” Luke’s words came out as a whisper, like an oath too sacred to be said out loud. That is not to say he wasn’t afraid to shout it out from a rooftop. Luke just wanted his first time saying it to be for your ears only. For every single time after, Luke would make sure that his words and actions were heard loud and clear to you and others, if you would let him.

You almost could not believe your own ears. For the first time ever, you saw Luke look so vulnerable. He was usually so sure of himself, almost always overly confident whenever he was around you, just to irritate you with an inflated ego persona. But right now, it felt like the curtains were closing, and nothing was left but him with his heart in hand.

This was who Luke Castellan really was - under all the armor and titles.

And he was in love with you.

You opened your mouth to say something, but words froze. You weren’t sure what to say because you believe that whatever it is you utter out wouldn’t be able to top Luke’s words. You frowned as the sparks in Luke’s eyes dulled slowly. You could feel his hand keeping yours on his chest slipping slightly. At this, you flipped your hand around to hold his in place.

“Eleven months after you arrived at camp that I…” you paused, gulping as you tried to find the words, “This boy, he tore my favorite book apart because I defeated him during a spar and “embarrassed him” in front of everybody. He’s an absolute coward, too, because he brought his buddies along, knowing he would have never won one-on-one against me. So, he had his friends hold me still as he punched me in the face and stomach repeatedly.” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed at the story. Of course, he remembered the incident. He only wished he had been there when it happened rather than in the aftermath.

“You found me bloody and bruised while I was heading to the infirmary. I was convinced you hated me back then because of all the sarcastic remarks I thought were genuine insults. So I thought you would just ignore me. But no, you stopped me. For the first time ever, I saw who you seem to really be: this caring and protective person. You were stubborn and determined to know what happened, even though I said it was not a big deal. Then you wrapped up my wounds in the infirmary wordlessly and would not leave my side until you walked me back to my cabin, where I finally told you who was behind it all.”

“Then, the next day, I found a new copy of my favorite book, candy, and new book tabs on my bedside. Later that day, I found out that his whole friend group, including him, had their hair dyed bright pink with dozens of bruises and cuts on them, and they could not even look at me. And I just knew it was you who had done all this for me, which changed how I see you - and us.”

“Is that why you left me your dessert for a month straight? After I lost dessert privileges for maiming those guys?” Luke asked.

“I did no such thing,” you tried to lie. Indeed, you were the mysterious person who left desserts next to Luke’s bed for the month after the incident. Even though you never told him, he knew it was you, and the look he was giving you right now conveyed he very well did not believe your denial.

“What I’m trying to say, Luke Castellan…is I think my heart might be a little too fond of you as well,” Luke’s jaw dropped slightly at your words. His heart almost spiked completely, losing a beat as if you caused him to flatline from bliss. Then, something glossed over his eyes, and you fully recognized it. The glint of mischief always presented itself before he said something cheeky to you. 

“You know, I think I’ll cash in my prize now. I did win after all,” Luke referred to your original spar deal. You huffed at his words and the cheeky grin he was offering you.

“Ah, right. So, what is it that you want?” Luke untangled his hand from yours and used both to cup your face slowly but surely. 

“Hmm, you did say “anything”,” Luke muttered as he glanced down at your lips, which made you subconsciously licked them. However, your action made him let out a quivering breath. Even though it was somewhat dark, you could still see that his eyes were dilated. You were pretty sure yours were as well. 

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” Luke was holding your face like it was the world that he had in his palms.  

“Yes,” you answered almost without hesitation, and he smiled at that. “Kiss me, Castellan,” you tugged Luke’s shirt, pulling him towards you, and almost immediately, he clashed his lips against yours.

Years of yearning were unleashed as you two practically melted in each other’s hold. The rain only added passion to the kiss, like fuel to the fire. Luke lightly backed you against a tree with one hand at the back of your head, shielding it from hitting the tree trunk too hard. Slowly, his other hand trailed down from your cheek to your hips. There were so many words he was seemingly trying to convey to you through his kiss. It was as if he was making a promise upon the love he intended to deliver to you. 

One of your hands tangled in Luke’s curls, twirling them around your fingers like it was their intended purpose to exist for. The other was on his cheek, your fingers subconsciously rubbing over his scar ever so delicately, as if they were gold to be treasured rather than a blemish to be ashamed of. Luke faintly shivered at your action, growing ever so breathless at the way you touched him, wanting to scowl at himself for being affected in such a way. 

Luke pulled away first, and you could not help but grin at the sight of him: swollen plump lips, messy dark hair, and a hue of pink dancing across his face. He cupped your face with both his hands again before leaving a small kiss on your cheek near where he had split your skin and drew blood. 

“This doesn’t change anything, you know? It may not be today, but someday, I will get the title of best swordsman if it is the last thing I do. Me losing today does not mean I’m giving up,” you said, hands still playing with his hair lovingly despite the stubborn declaration.

“I would not expect any less,” Luke replied, though wanting to add ‘if anybody were to take this honorable title, I’d want it to be you,’ yet he did not utter his thoughts. You breathed out a chuckle at his words.

“And yeah, maybe someday you will get that title,” Luke paused, taking a deep breath. You could feel how his chest seemed to stutter as his cheek heated up. 

“But for now, will you settle with the title of being mine?” you almost swooned at his words and the smile that he was giving you. If only you knew, he would give you all the titles you want: best swordsman, best counselor, his, and - if someday you would ever want it - his last name, as crazy as it sounded. Hell, maybe he’d take yours. 

“Yes, only if you’d also have the title of being mine.”

“I’ll wear it with honor and never surrender it unless you ever deemed me unworthy of the title,” Luke replied, grinning down at you like he had no intentions of ever letting you go.

“Never,” you grinned up at him, hands cupping his face before drawing him into another kiss, sealing the deal of forevermore.

———————————

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[hereforthehitsbaby]

Behave | Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Eddie always told you to behave on game nights - but tonight you were feeling extra bratty.

Warning: Slight Smut, Finger Sucking, Mimicking Blow Job, Spanking, Dom!Eddie, Public Displays of Lewdness, Fingering Mentioned, Language, Drug Use, "Daddy," Choking,

Rating: E - NO MINORS!

Word Count: 3.6K

Best Friend; A person's closest friend. Someone who will be there for you no matter what, someone who you can trust with your deepest and darkest secrets. Best thing about having someone be that close, you could be comfortable with one another and know you will never be judged. That was the best part about it all, knowing you can openly be yourself without the feeling of dread or fear. Everyone needs someone like that in their life, whether they would like to admit it or not. It's the truth at the end of the day. Everyone could use a best friend who will be there through thick and thin, who will pump them up whenever they are feeling low. It isn't to make others jealous, but to help with your own brand of faults and doubts. Sometimes having someone who will openly reassure you is better than just being silent - instead of letting you wallow in your own despair. For you, he was the chosen one. He was the one to take those doubts away, and flourish you into the world of beauty. Though really, he loved when you were more; Teasing, taunting, overall sexy.

Being a tease was in your nature, whether you wanted to believe it or not. Something about riling up your friends was funny. Maybe it was seeing what flustered them, and what made them tick. After all, it was all in good fun - your friends didn't seem to mind. I mean, how could they when you're gorgeous? Especially when Eddie Munson was the bestest of your friends. He really enjoyed when you teased him, openly flirted with him, and even when you would climb into his lap like it was nothing. Though you both were heavily adamant, you were just friends. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. It was a safety precaution after all, in case if things didn't work out the integrity of your friendship would not be ruined. To the naked eye of your friend group, the two of you were platonic with a capital P, whilst in private you could've sworn you were lovers. Just the way he handled your body, making you bend to his will - how you'd give yourself up to him, he was damned if he fell in love. It was normal for you two to experiment with one another - to find what you like and how it should be done. All the best adventures, came from Eddie.

That 5"11' brown eyed beauty would be the death of you at some point, truly a gracious man who would take care of you at the drop of a hat. Eddie Munson was your person, your forever in such a brutal world. When he had slid into your life at fourteen years old, you were a goner. That was around the same time he had grown his mullet out a bit so it was more of a hair metal variety. Bright brown eyes were like a puppy's, constantly begging and pleading to be loved. That is all Eddie truly wanted at the end of the day - to feel the love neither of his parents had given him. Growing up with his uncle, it was rare to show any sign of affection - making him feel almost robotic at times. But, when you were caught on the swings smoking a joint in front of a bunch of kids - he knew you could love him like he needed. He offered you a light to reignite your end of the joint, suckling the smoke deeply as it swirled within your lungs. Simply you passed it off to him; That entire day you spent running through the fountains near Hawkins downtown, causing chaos every moment you could. He was in love with you from the start, it was obvious.

"Sweetheart, I need you to behave tonight. We are at the halfway point in the campaign. No distractions, okay?" Eddie pleaded as he drove down the rickety dirt road near Hawkins High. Thursday nights were dedicated to Hellfire - the D&D club Eddie has ran since Freshman year. When you became the new soul to Hawkins, Eddie was the first to bring you into the sacred circle - loving how easily you fit in with the others and how great of a rogue dark elf you are. It made his heart beam that the girl of his dreams, also loved the same music, books and games. But, Eddie wouldn't admit that he fucking loved when you were being a tease, purposely turning him on during the most inconvenienced of times. There was something about being bent to your will he could not get enough of, especially when he was heavily rooted in the campaign. It wasn't outlandish for all of the guys to see - but enough for Eddie to silently berate you. The other guys were oblivious, which was cute.

You turned to Eddie's side in the van, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting with an audible hmph, knowing that cannot be arranged. A chuckle slipped from Eddie's lips as he heard you sweet little sound, your pout the cutest thing he had ever seen. He was a weakened man for you, that was a no brainer. "I cannot make any guarantees, Eddie the Banished." You knew Eddie was a slut for you calling him by his Dungeon Master name - which you found sexy. Just seeing how his hands gripped the steering wheel a bit harder to make the leather crunch beneath his fingers, was enough ammunition you needed to keep going. With Eddie's eyes becoming hooded in lust, he strained his fingers against the wheel. "Fuck, you love I love it when you call me that, sweetheart." Indeed you did, hence why this was going to be an absolutely torturous night for sweet Eddie Munson - not when the love of his life was bound to kill him with teasing. "If you're going to tease me, at least get it out before the game." Eddie pleaded with you, turning his head to face yours as the light remained red, gulping his worries down.

"Aw, Eddie? Are you okay, baby boy?" You pouted playfully, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You could hear the strain of the steering wheel beneath your fingers, causing his body to convulse in the slightest. His knee was bouncing up and down whilst waiting for the light, trying so hard to contain his raging hard on in his jeans, trying so hard to not fuck you in the back of his van in the school parking lot. You made Edie crazy, but he fucking craved it. Eddie slammed to 60 when the light turned green, speeding down the last set of dirt roads by the high school while you waited to tease him. Eddie wouldn't give you the chance to do so though, for as soon as he pulled into the parking lot, he left you in the van. No keys, no words, just grabbed his lunch box and that was it. In a way you silently wondered if you took this too far with him, if you made him angry by teasing. Your heart began to race with the possible realization that Eddie was mad at you, causing a sliver of doubt to shine within your bones. But alas, like everything else in life, you pushed it down and never thought of it again.

Slowly you crept the passengers side door open to be met with the cool early summer breeze against your freshly shaved legs; High waisted leather skirt caused the breeze to slide underneath. Adorning your torso was your very own Hellfire Club shirt, tucked into the band of your bottoms. With the blackened boots and studs on your feet, you hopped out of the van with a clank of the heels - sighing out softly. Truly you were worried that you may have pissed Eddie off, which would make the game that much more awkward. But as soon as you were about to be wrapped up in your worries, you heard the infamous giggle of one Dustin Henderson rolling through your ears, shoving your door closed with a smile. "Hello, Lady Thesa! Are you ready to completely annihilate the cult of Vecna?" Dustin smiled sweetly, tagging Mike and Lucas along with him. Smiling widely as you rolled your eyes, you bowed to the boys with a short curtsey, trying not to laugh. "Of course I am, ready to kick that slimeballs ass once and for all!" You exclaimed proudly, causing the three to scream in agreement.

The four of you made your way to the double doors of the school, the only set that would be opened tonight. It was cute hearing how excited the guys were to get to the halfway point - needing to level up and get their steel armor finally. If there was anyway you all would beat Vecna, it was with the best of the best armor. The halls of Hawkins high were bare from the world; Cold, almost decayed with the scent of death - and gym socks. It was weird always being back at the school late at night with nothing else around, no one else around for that matter. Principal Higgins, as much as he was a douchebag, gave Eddie a key to the school for these reasons - though he barely trusted Munson. It was funny, you and Eddie being the oldest of the groups - just due to the fact that he stayed back three times and you, well you had the unfortunate luck of your transcripts getting lost in the mail, meaning you had to repeat freshman year twice. Maybe its because Eddie officially ran Hellfire Club but, you always had a spare.

The chatter coming from the science classroom made your stomach drop, hearing Eddie's loud voice booming through the hiss of the lights overhead. Dustin, Lucas and Mike ran into the class before you did, screaming along with Eddie, Jeff and Gareth. Meanwhile you, you trailed into the class lastly, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you wandered over to Eddie's side. Plopping down next to Gareth, Eddie noticed where was a twinkle of something in your eyes - something that made you not want to look at him. Is she mad I walked away from her earlier? Eddie's mind pondered so many different possibilities and fears, wondering if he was too harsh in what he did. But really, this was just one giant fucking game. "Hey Gareth, could you please be a darling and pass me by dice?" You smiled sweetly at the flannel wearing guy, batting your lashes softly. His face instantly reddened at your flattery, fingers trembling as they grabbed your purple satchel from the pile. Sending him a wink as a thank you, you hummed softly as poured them out beside your character sheet. "You look really pretty today," the soft tone of Gareth's words made your heart soar, the heat creeping upon your cheeks.

You nudged Gareth's shoulder with your own, smiling sincerely at his compliment, not knowing exactly how to function after it. "Thank you, that's really sweet of you to say!" You made sure the sentence was loud enough for Eddie to hear. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Eddie's mouth screwed up into a solid line, his fingers gripping the ballpoint pen as if he was trying to kill it. His leg shook the entire table, making some of the pieces turn over accidentally. "Jesus Eddie, did you forget to pop your quaaludes before the meeting?" Jeff snorted, causing Eddie to slam his hands down on the table, everyone shutting up so quickly. Eddie's beady eyes bored into everyone's, mainly yours with fury. You had never seen Eddie so pissed off before, or just mad in general. Usually if the guys joked around like this then Eddie was all giggles too. But tonight, something was different - something was off. "Listen here you little shits, I am not in the mood to fuck around. Get your shit together, or get the fuck out!" Eddie snapped, surprised with the tone of his own voice. He jumped back slightly at his own harsh remark, wincing towards the group. "I'm sorry - just...a lot going on."

Everyone was understanding, nodding and keeping their lips sealed until Eddie began the campaign. You barely needed to do anything here tonight, Eddie was already frustrated because of you. In a way you felt bad for working him up, but on the same length you were only just getting started. As Eddie began to recite where you all had left off, you leaned into your fanny pack to grab out a lollipop, unwrapping the blow pop - cherry - your favorite. As you popped the candy into your mouth, you wrote down your updated stats on your character sheets, not giving a second glance to the DM. "Lady Thesa, you see a Rust Monster coming your way out of the darkened woods. It's body insect like, the color of rust with antenna's that can easily wrap around you. Do you fight, or do you flee?" Eddie recited to you, cocking his brow as you swirled the lolly against your tongue. Popping it freshly out, dripping with your saliva, you nod to him with a smirk; "I'll fight that fucker." Eddie's eyes were dazzling over the lollipop, breath hitching as you traced your tongue on the underside of the protruding top, wrapping your perfect lips around it.

You grabbed two D7 dice from your pile in front, the purple and black glittering in the overhead lights. Shaking them in your hand was phallic in itself; You were mimicking a hand job directly at Eddie. As the two dice fell down to the board, you noticed how you hit the rust monster with an attack of fourteen, meaning you wounded him enough to take fourteen damage. Everyone around you cheered and Gareth clapped your back, rubbing smooth circles over your shirt. A flush rose to Gareth's cheek as you rested your hand on his lower thigh, gently rubbing his jeans as you giggled. Eddie hated that someone other than him was making you giggle, making your smile so hard your cheeks hurt, fuck even making you shiver with delight. That is something Eddie always did - to see that he was almost being replaced hurt a lot. But he could not let you get away with this. Clutching the dice of the rust monster in his hand, Eddie threw the D20 down with haste, seeing how it landed only on five - meaning you got to do another hit of damage. The way Eddie perched himself in the chair, his back against the wood and his legs spread wide, made you shiver with lust. The way his sinful hands grasped at the arms of the chair, as if he would rip them off at any given moment.

"Kick his ass Lady Thesa, stun them with your beauty." Gareth was on a roll tonight with the compliments. You wondered if it was because Eddie wasn't being obsessive about you, wondering if he was doing it to get a rise out of Munson. Either way, it was sweet of shy Gareth to speak up finally, looking at you like you were a prize. When Gareth leaned forward to whisper in your ear, that was enough to made Eddie snap. "Time out!" His voice boomed over the chatter of everyone, causing the room to stand still. Before anyone could ask Eddie if he was okay, the brute stormed out of the classroom, slamming the door behind. His jackets were laid across his bag on the floor, you wondered if he had a smoke to calm his nerves. Sighing out loud, you slowly pushed out of your chair, rubbing your forehead before heading towards the door. "What's gotten into him?" Mike asked with confusion, causing you to shrug. "I don't know but we will be back, I am going to see what's up."

This was very out of character for your Eddie, and you wanted to do what you could to give him peace in the process. As you left the classroom, you looked up and down both halls - not seeing a lick of Eddie anywhere. Groaning to yourself, you quickly sped down the right side of the hall, heading towards where the gym and locker rooms would be. There were only about four classrooms - all senior level art, psychology, history and culinary. He could be hiding out in one of those, you pondered, but just which one? You reached for the first class which happened to be the art room. Elongated black tables lined each row - showcasing off eight of them with four chairs at each. It was weird to see one of your classes in the darkened night, fluorescent lightbulbs not burning your eyes. "Eddie?" You called out with a hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you sighed out. You were nervous he was mad at you, or worse yet - he wanted you to leave. "Eddie I'm-" you began, but were cut off with two strong hands pinning your shoulders back against the air. The slice of tension covered your body like a wet blanket, unable to move under the force. His left hand slid from your shoulder to your neck, pushing down on your pulse point like it was nothing.

"You must think you're real fucking cute, don't you?" Eddie hissed as he tightened his grip, his right hand coming to pin your hip to the board behind you. Easily you could feel your eyes growing darker as they dilated. Eddie was possessive sure, but he never used this sort of force outside of the bedroom. In all honesty, it was hot to you, knowing how much you loved to be choked. Giving Eddie your best impression of doe eyes, you slowly let your smile creep forth, showcasing your reddened lips and tongue from the lollipop earlier, you had discarded when you were rolling. "Mhm, of course I do, Munson." You challenged him back, looking him up and down for two seconds. He was lost in your words, how you played feigned innocence so well. This time around it wasn't going to work on him, no, he was already deep into his mind of fury. Still holding your throat in his hand, Eddie marched you backwards to the emptied desk of the art teacher Mrs. Callough, watching how your bared thighs trembled. Eddie paced himself out by removing one of his hands from your body, using it to push your tight leather skirt over the swell of your ass, showing how you had forgone your panties for the evening, letting your naked core be only a few inches away from exposure.

"Naughty, naughty girl - you fucking menace." Eddie growled from behind, laying a harsh crack against your right ass cheek. The sensation made you jolt forward, stifling a waning moan. Before you could speak out against Eddie's spank, he laid another one flush to the other cheek, feeling the skin heat under his touch. It was like rapid fire at that rate, he kept laying harsh smacks against your ass almost to learn your lesson, but instead it caused you to go dumb. Your mouth hung open, collecting your own saliva as broken moans slipped out. Your cunt clenched around nothing, hoping to god he would shove his fingers or cock within you. Each spank got rougher than the last, his fingertips digging into the rounded, pillowy flesh like it was nothing - almost to show you who you belonged to. After fifteen, you had lost count, the pain mixed with the pleasure, you couldn't control yourself from wanting your best friend. "D-D-Daddy," you let out, tearing welling in the corner of your eyes. "Have you learned your lesson yet, princess?" Ah, so this was a punishment, you thought, feeling your heart swell.

Rapid nods fell from your head as Eddie placed a soothing palm over your now heated ass, letting the cool tips of his rings cool your backside. "Y-Yes, I am s-sorry." You muttered, letting Eddie help you stand up to straighten your tight skirt. Eddie cupped your cheek softly, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, watching how it puffed out just for him. "It's okay, sweetheart. I forgive you. If you can be a good girl, I'll let you come on my fingers under the table while we play - okay?" Eddie smiled softly, peppering kisses to your forehead, cheeks, nose and chin, watching how your heart raced with affection. Eddie did take amazing care of you, even when you were being a brat. That was what you loved most about him, and his darkened side. "I love you, Eddie." You let out louder than normal, causing his plush lips to turn up into a loving smile, leaning forth to kiss you so tenderly. "I love you, my darling."

[ahqkas]

♯ JUST LIKE MOVIES ; mattheo riddle

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! mattheo riddle, half-naked and utterly captivating, was a vision that would be hard to forget (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.5k

WARNINGS / TAGS! pure fluff, kissing, pansy serves like always . lmk of more if missed !

NOTES! all credits to the pretty devider below belong to @v6que !

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BEST FRIENDS COME AND GO but Pansy Parkinson wouldn't let her closest friends parish without a serious reason. Her loyalty to those she cared about was above the standard (if there any was) and so was the commitment to mark her presence in her friends' lives in a way they wouldn't forget. She was cunning and mean, but she meant well. Most of the time.

It was a regular evening in the Slytherin common room, the dim light from the enchanted green flames casting flickering shadows and a warm glow on the ancient stone walls. You were nestled comfortably on one of the plush, dark-green couches, a loved book balanced in your lap as you tried to focus on the chapter in front of you. Despite your best efforts, your eyes kept drifting away from the page, your thoughts straying to someone who wasn't in the room yet.

Mattheo Thomas Riddle had been occupying your restless thoughts far more than you cared to admit. You tried to brush it off (an impossible task), convincing yourself that it was simple because of how often you saw him. After all, with the both of you being in the same house and friend group it was impossible to not cross paths with him constantly. But deep down, your heart knew there was more to it than that.

The way his dark curls fell over his forehead when he was lost in thought, the way his eyes seemed to darken with an intensity that made your heart race, the way he was looking straight at you every time a small joke slipped past his lips — it was all becoming increasingly hard to ignore. Still, you did your best to keep your feelings hidden, especially around your curious friends. You didn't need anyone picking up on the fact that the nonchalant Mattheo Riddle had you utterly smitten and wrapped around his finger.

Your eyes flickered back to your book, trying to push thoughts of the boy out of your mind. ❛And one asks oneself where are one's dreams. And one shakes one's head and says how rapidly the years fly by! And again one asks oneself what has one done with one's years. Where have you buried your best days? Have you lived or not?❜ But it was to no use. Every little sound made your stomach twist in nerves, wondering if it was him finally entering the common room. You were too distracted to notice when Pansy Parkinson, your ever-observant best friend, slipped onto the couch beside you, wearing a sly grin on her pink lips.

Pansy, always perceptive and mischievous, noticed the direction of your gaze. She had been scheming something ever since she realized the mutual pining between you and Mattheo, and tonight was the perfect opportunity.

"What are you staring at?"

You didn't realized you zoned out a bit and you've been staring at the entrance that led to the boys' dormitory rooms for a while now. You quickly looked down at your book, pretending to be engrossed in the words of literature. "Nothing. Just reading."

The girl next to you snorted at your obvious lie. "Right. And I'm excellent at Quidditch."

Shooting her a glare from the corner of your eyes, you still kept up with your excuses (which didn't seem to work but it was still better than running around telling the truth). "I'm just reading, Pans, really."

"Sure thing, if that's what you want me to believe. But I've seen the way you look at a certain someone."

Your poor stomach did a nervous flip at her words, and in the moment you wished it was for rather different reasons. You kept the expression on your face neutral but you were crumbling on the inside. How did she know? "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, it's obvious, even to a blind git like our Berkshire. You've got it bad for Riddle."

An instant heat rushed to your cheeks, aiding to your growing embarrassment, and you fumbled with your words, trying to come up with a denial that didn't sound ridiculous. "I — no, it's not like that."

"Right," the word was drawled by the dark haired witch who was clearly not buying it. "That's why you can't take your eyes off the door, hoping he'll walk in any second now. Face it, you've got it bad for him."

"Pansy, please, don't make this a thing."

"I'm not making this a thing," she held her hands up in a mock defense, the pale skin of her palms facing you. "But if you're going to sit there and pine over him without doing anything about it, someone's got to step in."

And that someone would gladly be Pansy Parkinson.

You shot her a warning look but the girl's bored mind was already made up. "What do you mean by that?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of her devilish lips as she got up from her seat, quietly slipping away without anyone noticing. Panic surged you as you realized what she was about to do. You stood up after her, set on following the girl you so dearly called your best friend, but it was too late.

She was already out of sight, heading straight for Mattheo's dormitory room. You stood frozen in place for a moment, heart pounding against your rib cage, unsure whether to run after her or pretend none of this ever happened. Before you could make a decision, Pansy reappeared with a smug look on her face — and in her grasp, she was holding one of Mattheo's shirts.

You stared at her in disbelief as she sauntered back over to the spot she claimed as hers on the couch, picking at the green and silver shirt with her slim fingers. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing," she said innocently, her tone betraying her mischief. "Just thought I'd borrow a little something from Riddle. He won't mind, will he?" As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"He's going to kill you."

The girl shrugged, completely unfazed. "He can try."

Just as you were about to protest further, you heard the door to the dormitory burst open, and then you saw Mattheo storming down the stairs like his life depended on it.

The air around you seemed to shift. The usual hum of chatter died down as all eyes turned toward him. Water droplets still clung to his skin, glistening in the dim, green-tinged light from the enchanted flames in the fireplace. His dark curls, damp from the shower, hung slightly over his forehead, giving him an almost rugged, untamed look.

His broad shoulders and chest were on full display, the muscles there defined and sculpted, showing the hard work he's done throughout the years of Quidditch. His skin, a shade somewhere between pale and lightly tanned, was smooth, with the occasional freckle or mole adding to his character. Every line and curve of his body was honed, from the subtle ripple of his abs to the V-line that disappeared tantalizingly beneath the towel wrapped low around his hips.

The towel itself was just barely doing its job, clinging precariously to him, revealing strong thighs. He moved with a certain grace, despite the situation, his confidence evident in every step. His dark eyes, framed by thick lashes, swept over the room, taking in the scene with a mix of amusement and challenge. Those eyes, usually so intense and guarded, now held a glint of playful irritation as they locked onto Pansy — and then softened when they found you.

His lips, slightly parted as if caught in mid-thought, were full and curved into a smirk that sent a wave of warmth through you. Even in this slightly ridiculous situation, Mattheo exuded an aura of dangerous charm. There was something about the contrast of his bare, vulnerable state and the raw power he embodied that made it impossible to look away.

Despite the fact that he was clad in nothing but a towel, he didn't seem the least bit self-conscious. If anything, he seemed entirely comfortable, like he knew exactly the effect he was having on everyone in the room — especially on you. As he approached, the air grew thick with unspoken tension, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

And then, as if just to make your heart race even more, he ran a hand through his damp curls, pushing them back from his forehead, giving you an even clearer view of those piercing eyes and the strong lines of his jaw. The sight was almost too much — Mattheo Riddle, half-naked and utterly captivating, was a vision that would be hard to forget.

"Give it back," he growled at the witch, but there was a playful edge to his voice.

The rest of your Slytherin boys in the common room immediately took notice of the situation, and a chorus of laughter erupted. You, on the other hand, felt your cheeks heat up, your gaze inadvertently wandering over Mattheo's exposed torso before quickly looking away, embarrassed.

"Come and get it, Riddle!" Pansy taunted, her grin widening as she stepped behind you, holding the shirt just out of Mattheo's reach.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, clearly used to Pansy's antics, but there was a flicker of something else in his gaze when he looked at you— something that made your heart skip a beat. He stepped closer, and the room seemed to quiet down as all eyes turned to the two of you.

"Pansy, seriously. Give me my shirt back," Mattheo said, his voice softer now, his eyes flickering between her, the shirt in her grasp, and you.

Pansy, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, finally tossed the clothing over to the Slytherin beater, but not before giving you a knowing wink. Mattheo caught it effortlessly, but instead of putting it on right away, he turned his attention back to you.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low, concern lacing his words.

You nodded, still feeling flustered. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "Listen, I — there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

Your heart pounded in your chest. You had a feeling you knew where this was going, but you couldn't quite believe it.

"What is it?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

The boy glanced around the common room, noticing the curious stares from his friends. With a slight smirk, he leaned in closer, so only you could hear him. "Maybe we should talk somewhere a bit more private?"

Your breath hitched as you nodded, and the two of you slipped out of the common room to the stairs leading to the dormitories, leaving behind a very smug-looking Pansy and a bunch of amused Slytherin boys.

Mattheo motioned for you to follow him, and you trailed after him up the staircase that led to the dormitories. The common room was still buzzing behind you, but the further up you went, the quieter it became. You stopped halfway up the stairs, where the shadows were deeper, the flickering green light of the common room barely reaching this far. It was secluded enough to talk without the eyes of your peers on you, but there was still the chance that someone could come down at any moment — a chance that added an unspoken tension to the air.

The Slytherin leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his still-bare chest, the towel securely wrapped around his waist. His expression was softer now, the teasing smirk from earlier replaced with something more serious, yet still unreadable. You mirrored him, leaning against the opposite wall, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, though your heart was hammering in your chest.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was heavy, filled with everything that had gone unsaid for so long. Mattheo's eyes were on you, dark and intense, as if he was weighing his words before speaking them. You were keenly aware of the proximity, the way the confined space of the staircase seemed to draw you closer together, despite the few feet that separated you.

"I'm going to guess Pansy did that on purpose," you finally said, trying to break the tension with a small smile.

Mattheo huffed a quiet laugh, the sound low and rough. "She has a way of meddling when it suits her."

You nodded, the small talk serving as a brief reprieve from the weight of the moment. But you could feel the real conversation hovering just beneath the surface, waiting to break free. And it did, when Mattheo's gaze sharpened, his demeanor shifting slightly as he uncrossed his arms, taking a small step closer.

"You've been avoiding me," he said, his tone even, but there was an edge of something more — something almost vulnerable.

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his statement. "I — well, I didn't think you'd notice."

He frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as if the idea was absurd. "Of course I noticed. How could I not?"

There was a sincerity in his voice that made your breath catch, and suddenly, you couldn't find it in yourself to meet his gaze. You looked down at the stone steps instead, tracing the cracks with your eyes as you tried to gather your thoughts. "It's just — well, with everything people say about you, about us . . . I didn't want to make things awkward."

Mattheo stepped closer again, now close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, the scent of soap and something distinctly him filling the small space between you. He lifted a hand, hesitating for a split second before gently tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His touch was light, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Awkward?" he repeated, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. "I think you're the only person who can make me feel anything but awkward."

Your breath hitched at the implication of his words, but you didn't pull away. His thumb brushed against your jaw, and his eyes were locked on yours, as if he was searching for something, some sign that you felt the same way. You didn't need to say anything; the look in your eyes must have been enough because Mattheo's expression softened, a quiet resolve settling over him.

"I didn't want to make things weird either," he admitted, his voice steady but laced with the same tension you were feeling. "But not saying anything has been driving me mad."

The vulnerability in his voice was unlike anything you'd heard from him before, and it made your heart clench. The boy who always seemed so sure of himself, who carried an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance, was standing before you, baring a side of himself that few got to see.

"And what exactly is it that you're not saying?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo's hand dropped from your chin, but instead of stepping back, he closed the distance between you, the barest of gaps left between your bodies. His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like they were always meant to fit together. He took a breath, and for a moment, you thought he might back out, but then his grip tightened, and his eyes bore into yours with a determination that sent your heart racing.

"That I like you, more than I should," he said, each word deliberate and measured, as if he was afraid of getting it wrong. "And it's been driving me insane because I've been trying to act like I don't, but I do. And I can't keep pretending otherwise."

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and for a long moment, all you could do was stare at him, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. But instead of feeling suffocated, you felt something else — a warmth that spread from where his hand held yours, blooming outwards until it filled your entire chest.

"I think I like you too," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

The relief in Mattheo's eyes was immediate, and before you knew it, his other hand had moved to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently against the apple of your cheek. The touch was so tender, so full of unspoken emotion, that it made your chest tighten.

And then, slowly, as if giving you every chance to pull away, Mattheo leaned in. His lips hovered inches from yours, the anticipation crackling in the air between you. You closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But then something shifted, and the kiss deepened, turning desperate and hungry, as if all the tension that had built up between you over the past few weeks was pouring out in this single moment.

The world around you faded, the only thing that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the way his hand held your face as if he was afraid to let go. Your free hand moved to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm, grounding you in the reality of what was happening.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, Mattheo didn't move far. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he caught his breath, his fingers still laced with yours.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

You couldn't help but smile, your own heart racing. "Me too."

You stayed like that for a moment longer, savoring the warmth of his presence, the way your hand fit perfectly in his. There was still so much left unsaid, so much you needed to talk about, but for now, you were content to just be here, with him, knowing that whatever happened next, you would face it together.

Just then, a faint creak echoed from the foot of the stairs, pulling you both out of your bubble. You instinctively stepped back, your eyes wide as you turned toward the sound, and Mattheo straightened up, though he didn't let go of your hand.

A first-year student, with wide, curious eyes, was standing at the bottom of the staircase, frozen in place. He looked like he was caught between curiosity and the urge to bolt back down to the safety of the common room. The young boy's gaze flicked between you and Mattheo, clearly unsure if he had interrupted something important — or perhaps he was simply trying to figure out what a shirtless Mattheo Riddle was doing on the stairs with his hand in yours.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks, but before you could say anything, Mattheo let out a low chuckle. He looked over at you with a smirk that was both amused and reassuring, as if to say, Don't worry, I've got this.

"Hey, kid," Mattheo called out, his voice casual, though the edge of his smirk hinted at something more mischievous. "You lost?"

The boy blinked, his face reddening slightly as he shook his head, clearly flustered. "Uh, no . . . I was just . . . going to bed."

Mattheo nodded, his expression softening as he gestured towards the upper floors. "Well, don't let us stop you. But you might want to keep what you saw to yourself, yeah?"

The boy's eyes widened and with a quick nod, he scampered up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time as he disappeared into the dormitories.

Once he was out of sight, you turned back to Mattheo, who was watching you with an amused expression. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a lightness that made you smile despite yourself.

"You're terrible," you whispered, though there was no heat behind the words.

Mattheo grinned, pulling you close again, his forehead brushing against yours. "I prefer the term 'irresistible,' actually."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. As you stood there on the stairs, the echoes of your laughter mingling with the distant sounds of the common room, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together — starting with getting back to the common room before anyone else stumbled upon your little moment.

But for now, you were content to stay here just a little longer, savoring the feeling of being exactly where you were meant to be — by Mattheo's side.