#like. fucking no. that. that would be kinda cruel. especially for such a good friend. even if im not sure i want to date her or not

[mikka-minns]

Okey so im horrible w giving advice for but i might be able to help w this one cuz i had a similar expiriance w my now girlfriend.

For some insight(that you dont even have to read, i Just need to prove my point), couldnt tell if what i felt for her was strong platonic feelings and affection(like queerplatonic) or romantic. She was actualy the first friend who i got close with any was genuen and i was aware of that.

I realised its romantic by noticing how SHE feels about us. She was very much "joking" about marrying me, living together, she told me she loves me a lot of times. (i even kissed her on the cheek a few times and she reciorocated, but thats just my expiriance, it might not work for everyone). The final straw was when we were hanging out and she at some point said "We're basicaly girlfriends" in a pretty serious tone. And she was casual about it. And i liked that. I liked the Thought of being "her girlfriend"

My final advice: Think about something specificly romantic with your friend/crush. Is there something that would change if you two got romantic instead of platonic? Would being their partner satisfy you emotionaly in a way being just their friend wouldnt? Are there any friends you have but apsolutley do not feel the same way about them? Because that might be a sign(it was for me🤷🏻).

Take this with a grain of salt. Or more salt even. This is just my own expiriance and im very aware your situation might be complitely different. I Just wish you luck on your journey! Hopefully it all plays out well! 💕

Help how do you label your feelings for a person when you can barely identify your emotions

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 3 (Hate Sex)

Kevin Moskowitz (The Deep) x Reader (NSFW)

(900 words)

Summary: You hate fuck The Deep

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, rough sex, a little bit of biting, hair pulling, degradation, penetrative sex, hate sex (duh)

Notes: I hate him so he was the perfect choice for this one LMAO anyway I think I kinda slayed with this one, I’m proud of it. Enjoy the fic!!!

-

“Jesus, you are so fucking stupid,” you scoff, pushing Kevin onto the chair. He flinches as he hits the back of it, truly a pathetic sight. “A dolphin? The fuck is wrong with you, you fucking idiot?”

After Stillwell held a meeting this morning about covering up The Deep’s dolphin-train track fiasco, you knew this was the final straw with your shitty job at Vought, especially with The Deep. Not only was he a grade-A douchebag, but also completely moronic, which often caused you two to butt heads on numerous occasions regarding his behavior behind the scenes. This afternoon when you dragged him into an empty office, you took your chance to reprimand him- personally.

“Fuck you, I was doing the right thing!” He rubs the back of his neck, “I’m part of The Seven, it’s my job to save people AND my ocean friends, without me, you wouldn’t even have a fucking job, so don’t you dare tell me what to do you stuck up, little-”

Trying to get himself back to his feet, you push him down again, this time straddling him to keep him down. You can feel the heat of his erection pressing into you. You feel it, and he absolutely can feel it too.

You look down at him with disbelief, “You’ve gotta be joking.”

His dropped jaw momentarily comes back up. He snaps his eyes up to you. “Okay, but you’re the one straddling me here.”

For as stupid as The Deep was, he actually had a point here. Of course, you couldn’t let him know that. Without thinking, you plant a rough kiss on his lips and making sure to bite his lip when you pulled away. Letting out a pained yelp, he comes back to his senses. The Deep grips your hips tightly, painfully almost, keeping you pinned to his lap as your mouth moves down to ravage his neck.

“Y-yeah, nothing to say now, do you? You fucking sl-“

“Finish that sentence and I swear I’ll make what happened to your little dolphin friend look like a fucking joke,” you grit out, your hand flies up to take his chin between your fingers. Not wanting Kevin to get the upper hand on you, you start grinding against his erection. This seems to shut him up perfectly. Seeing him like this was driving you wild. Sure, you hate his fucking guts, but God, if it isn’t hot seeing him under you like this. Your arousal continues to spike. Not wanting to waste any more time, you ease off of him, undoing his belt quickly and pulling out his hardened cock.

Now you understand why The Deep was so incredibly arrogant when he had no reason to be. His cock was huge, it would inflate anyone’s ego.

“Like what you see?” Kevin says loftily.

“Well,” you sigh, “at least you’re good for one thing.” Pulling out a condom from a nearby drawer, you tear off the wrapper, rolling the rubber onto his cock. “Wouldn’t want to leave any traces, or else it’s both our jobs on the line.”

Rolling his eyes, Kevin grips your thighs as he slips into you roughly. You wince at his intrusion, so you decide to retaliate by yanking a fistful if his hair. Kevin lets out a loud and completely shameless whine. Barking out a cruel chuckle, your pace against him is fast and hard, wanting to get yourself off as soon as possible.

“G-God you’re pathetic,” you huff. “You think… you’re h-hot shit?” You ask, continuing to slam yourself down on his massive cock. “No, y-you just whine, and beg, and c-cry like a girl, wanting me… to fuck you.”

Letting a harsh moan escape from your lips as you spout your degradation, Kevin’s hand winds up in your hair, taking revenge from earlier. You hold in a grunt, refusing to give him any satisfaction of the fact that what he’s doing to you is making you extremely turned on.

“F-fuck off, I know… you like this,” he groans, “…just as much as I do.” Kevin bucks into you harder, making your knees shake ever so slightly. You can feel yourself getting close. The chair below you two seems to wobble a little.

Not wanting to be around him any longer, your eyes slam shut as you ride him out furiously, chasing after your release.

Kevin grips the arm of the chair and your hip, attempting to steady himself at your quickened pace. “There you g-go…” he chides breathlessly, “Fucking yourself on me like… like the w-whore you are-”

“S-shut…” you grab the back of his chair. “The fuck…” your hand wraps around Kevin’s throat, you pump yourself onto him as much as you can. Your grit out the last word with a harsh, ragged gasp and you feel your orgasm tear through you. “Up.”

With the ferocity of your climax, Kevin nears his peak as well. But, by the time he comes, you are already off of him, straightening out your clothes and hair. He looks over to you, who is now already walking out the door.

“Don’t forget to clean yourself up,” you toss a small box of tissues over to where he’s sitting which he pathetically tries, and fails to catch. Before leaving, you glare at him icily. “You speak a word of what happened here, and your funeral will be next after Translucent’s.”

[itsbeeble]

Doll

Summary: You and Hyunjae had never really gotten along. But, since he was your brother’s best friend, you couldn’t exactly avoid him your whole life. Especially now that Sangyeon has enlisted Hyunjae to help you study for your classes.

Genre: Fluff, Smut, e2l (kinda)

Pairing: brother’s best friend!Lee Hyunjae x afab!reader

WC: ~6.5k

WARNINGS UNDER CUT

Warnings: Uhhh public sex (car sex), slight age gap (Hyunjae is two years older than reader), oral (m and fem receiving), pet names, switch!Hyunjae, switch!reader, Haknyeon might be scarred for life, swearing, mentions of chemistry, they make out in a library, face-fucking kinda, threats, reader almost kicks the bucket, Hyunjae jumps out a window, Sangyeon is NOT happy, idrk there’s a lot happening MDNI!!!

A/N: Yeah this is uh... yeah

~

“This is so easy, how are you not understanding?” Hyunjae is hunched over beside you, scowling at the seemingly infinite number of red marks he’d made on your worksheet. You scoff at him.

“Sorry to burst your little bubble, Lee Jaehyun, but maybe you should consider the fact that Chemistry doesn’t come easy for everyone.” Maybe take that stick out of your ass and you’d see that.

Lee Jaehyun, or as most people like to call him, Hyunjae was a straight A student. He was nearly perfect in everything. Perfect grades, perfect voice, perfect face, perfect body. He was perfect when it came to the sports he played, he had the perfect family and home. The only horrid thing about him was his attitude. 

He was cruel. To you, at least. Maybe just to you, his best friend’s little sister. Maybe he just didn’t like you because you always seemed to be around, always trying to one-up him in everything related to school. Trying to be better than him at math, at english, at extracurriculars. You joined the debate team in high school just to spite him. And he’d be damned if he ever said he felt threatened by you. 

If you were being honest, you really didn’t hate him. You liked him, even though he clearly didn’t care for you. You looked up to him, similar to how you looked up to your brother, but Hyunjae was different. He wasn’t just your brother’s best friend. At some point you started going out of your way to try to impress him, even if it never ended well for you. You wanted to spend more time with him, get to know him more. 

“I would think that you’d be decent at this,” he sneers at you, “given how you seem to be so good at everything else.” You bite down on your tongue and turn back to the worksheet. The mistakes you’d made were so silly, so you understand why he’d be confused that you’re getting them wrong. Simple miscalculations when balancing equations, simple miscalculations for enthalpy. All of them were simple, and yet somehow you consistently got them wrong. “Your brother wouldn’t be making these mistakes. I thought you idolized him.” 

“I’m not Sangyeon,” you snap. “Plus, why would he be taking a chemistry class as an Econ major? He doesn’t need this shit.”

“Gen eds, doll.” Hyunjae smirks at you. “We all had to do them at some point.” 

Your tongue was starting to hurt from how hard you were biting on it to avoid yelling at him. You’d forgotten that Sangyeon and Hyunjae were already in their third year of college while you were barely starting your second. 

“Don’t call me doll,” you slide your chair forward and lower your head. “Give me another worksheet.” Hyunjae shakes his head. “Dude, give me a worksheet. Let me try again.”

“I’m not giving you another worksheet,” he says as he begins to pack up his things. “You clearly aren’t understanding anything I’m teaching you, so why should I keep helping?” You rise from your chair at the same time as he does, your eyes going wide. 

“There’s no way you’re giving up because I get mixed up sometimes.” He looks down at you, almost annoyed that you’re still talking to him. “Lee Jaehyun, you cannot be serious.”

“I’m dead serious, doll. I don’t know why your brother asked me to help you when it’s clear there’s nothing I can do for you.” He turns to walk away, and your hand latches onto his wrist, attempting (and failing) to pull him back. He’s taller than you and definitely a lot stronger. You barely even get him to wobble on his feet, and he hardly stops walking toward the exit of the library. Now, you’re just being dragged along with him. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” You jog to stand in front of him, walking backwards (in hindsight, you should’ve known that was a bad idea). “Like, I’ve never done anything wrong to you but you just fucking hate me for no reason. Why?” He’s looking down at you while he walks, jaw tense and eyes narrowed into a glare. 

“You’re stuck up and think you’re better than everyone.” 

“Yeah, but so do you!” You argue. 

“You’re more annoying about it though. Like everyone has to know that you think you’re better than them.” He spits out, and the two of you stop walking, standing outside of the library. The cold air of November bites into your skin, slipping through the gaps of your knit sweater. “You just have to brag about every achievement you get, about every goal you make in soccer, and every award you get from school. You think you’re just some fucking princess that everyone needs to bow down to.” 

“Again, you’re the same way!” You snap. You’re walking backwards again, hardly paying attention to where you’re going with how focused you are on Hyunjae. “You’re constantly shooting me down, when all I’ve ever done is look up to you! All I’ve ever done is try to impress you, but you just have to make me feel bad about myself huh?” 

Hyunjae’s eyes widen a fraction, his lips parting as he listens to you talk. He’s not walking any longer, but you are. You’re backing toward the stairs leading to the parking lot and he reaches forward to stop you.

“Doll,” he tries to get your attention but you’re on a tangent now.

“Maybe I went too far sometimes, but it’s only because you’re my brother’s best friend and I wanted you to notice me!” 

“Doll,” Hyunjae tries again and takes a step forward. You’re getting closer to the first step, just inches from backing off the edge. 

“But you’re right. Little old Lee Y/N can’t possibly be worth helping, she’s too dumb for you isn’t she? She isn’t enough for you to not—” 

“Y/N!” Hyunjae lurches forward when your foot slips from under you. For a moment you flail in the air, arms waving while you attempt to get your balance. Your brother’s best friend grabs one of your arms, yanking you toward him and pressing you tightly to his chest. Your body spun, and you found yourself pressed against the railing, your face squished against the tall man who had his arms wrapped fully around you.

You can feel your heart pounding, and you can feel his own, It’s rapid against your cheek, slamming against his ribs. He’s warm. His body is warm, and your hands tighten around his jacket. Call it desperation, but you know this is the only time Hyunjae would ever touch you and you wanted to make the most of it while it lasted.

“Are you dumb?” Hyunjae pulls you away from you, holding you an arms-length away while he scans you over. “Why the fuck would you walk backward near a staircase?” He looks angry, and you duck your head into your chest. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, “I know it was stupid but I just—” 

“What if you had gotten hurt, doll?” He interrupts, his grip on your shoulders tightening. “What then, huh? I’d never be able to forgive myself.” 

“Didn’t realize you cared that much about me,” you try to joke. His frown only deepens, and you begin to shrink in on yourself. 

“Of course I care about you!” Your heart begins to pound again. “You’re my best friend’s little sister, why wouldn’t I care about you?” And then it sinks. You just got best-friend’s-little-sister-zoned. 

You wonder if he ignored everything you’d said before the fall. Maybe he did. Maybe it’s for the best that he did. Save yourself the rejection, move on with your life. Easy enough. 

“I dunno,” you shrug, “figured you hated me enough to let me fall.” Hyunjae scoffs and grabs you by the arm to start dragging you back to the car.

“Idiot.”

~

“So what you’re telling me,” Haknyeon sits across from you, his chemistry textbook open but going ignored as he listens to you talk about what happened with Hyunjae. Since the staircase…incident he hasn’t spoken to you, and you really needed to pass chemistry so you enlisted your friend to help. “He calls you doll, acts like he hates you, then you confess to him and fall down the stairs, he saves you in the most romantic way, then brother’s-best-friend-zones you?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” You dig your pencil into your lip, listening to it click while you read through one of the practice problems that Haknyeon gave you. “And since then he hasn’t spoken to me.” 

“What a dick. You’re doing that one wrong, by the way.” He slides his chair across the library’s old carpet to sit next to you. “Finding the delta-H of a reaction is products minus reactants, not the other way around.” His shoulder is brushing against yours while he explains and writes down how to do the problem correctly. 

One of the doors to the library opens and you glance up, almost immediately locking eyes with Hyunjae. Your stomach sinks when he narrows his eyes at Haknyeon.

“Oh shit,” you mutter, dropping your gaze again.

“Please don’t tell me that Lee Hyunjae just walked into the library and currently looks like he wants my head on a spike.” Your friend is now frozen, speaking quietly out of the corner of his mouth.

“I will not confirm nor deny any of what you just said.”

“If that man kills me, I will kill you.” Haknyeon hisses, and you just smile at him. Hyunjae is sitting at a table nearby, and you feel that familiar sinking feeling in your chest when he looks at you again.

“He’s not gonna kill you. Laugh as if I said something funny.” You jab him in the side and he starts cackling loudly, gathering the attention of several other students around you. “Not that loud, genius!” He quiets his laughter, and you can see the flush rising on his cheeks. “God you’re dumb.”

“What am I supposed to do? The hottest man I’ve ever seen looks like he’ll snap me in half if I touch you! I’m terrified!” He grabs you by the shoulder, and you hear his chair scrape against the ground. “Oh god he’s gonna kill me and it’s your fault, you bitch.” 

“Y/N,” Hyunjae’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder, and he bends down to the opposite ear so you can hear him better. Your body goes rigid, and you feel his breath brushing against the side of your neck. “A word, please?” You turn your head, leaning back so you aren’t so close to him. He’s staring at you, a mix of emotions swimming in his eyes. 

“Uh,” you glance at your friend, but he’s already shoving his face back into his textbook. “Yeah, sure. Hak, I’ll be—”

“Yup, go ahead, have fun.” Your friend spits out and then Hyunjae is pulling you up and walking you toward a dark corner of the library.

“Is this where you kill me?” You joke, but he doesn’t laugh. He’s facing away from you, hands shoved into the pockets of a loose jacket. “Damn, killjoy much?”

“You sure move on fast, huh?” You reel back and he turns to face you completely, a small smile practically stapled to his lips. “With tutoring, I mean. You were able to replace me just fine.”

“Oh, uh,” you blink, “yeah I guess. Hak is a great…teacher? Jaehyun are you okay?” His jaw tenses before he responds again, taking a few steps toward you until he’s just inches from you, and you’re pressed against a bookshelf. 

“You know you’re the only person who calls me Jaehyun? Not even my own parents call me that.” His head is tilted, his eyes half-lidded while he looks at you. “Why is that?”

“I, um,” your brain is faltering, overwhelmed by him. The way he looms over you, the way his fingers dance across your waist, the way he’s looking at you like you’re his last meal. “I don’t— spite, maybe? Jae, you’re getting really…really close.”

“Does that bother you, doll?” He asks, he’s only a few inches away, and you’re getting the urge to lean up and press your lips against his. 

“N-nope. Not at all. In fact,” Your hands are wrapped around his jacket, holding him so he can’t step away from you, “this is great.” He smiles, and you don’t see joy in it. You see mischief and lust. 

“Really?” 

“Mhm.” One of his hands slides up to grip your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“And what if,” his voice is just a whisper, his breath fanning your cheek when he tilts your head to the side. “I did this?”

His lips are warm against your skin. Warm, and soft, and your breath is hitching in your throat andd you know he can feel it. Hyunjae kisses your neck right below your ear, his teeth just scraping against the tender skin and his lips sucking gently. Your eyes are fluttering, your body leaning closer to his. His hand releases your jaw, finding its way back to your waist while your own hands slide up to tangle in his hair. 

He slides his lips down, trailing them across your neck and sucking little pink marks into the skin. 

“Should—” you stumble over your sentence when Hyunjae pulls your shirt to the side, placing kisses to your collarbone. “Should we b-be doing this?” He hums, and the vibrations against your skin have you gasping.

“What do you mean, doll?” He pulls away, leaning back up to look you in the eye. His eyes are halflidded and dark, filled with the lust you had seen in his smile. Your jaw drops open a bit, your hands sliding back down to his shoulders when he leans toward you again. 

“I just— I mean— what would Sangyeon think?” Hyunjae rolls his eyes. “I’m seri—” He’s kissing you before you can finish that sentence. It’s a rough, searing kiss and the suddenness has you gasping. With your mouth now open, Hyunjae is able to slip his tongue into your mouth. It dances along your own, tracing every inch of the wet cavern of your mouth. Your lips are slightly chapped against his, and you wonder if he notices. You wonder if he cares, but the way he groans against your mouth tells you he doesn’t. That he cares only about the way your lips mold against his, the way your tongue dances against his own, and the way your body seems to fit perfectly to his. 

“Who—” his lips press against yours as he speaks, “cares— what— he— thinks?”

Hyunjae presses further against you, pressing you into the bookshelf, and you can feel the kiss becoming sloppy. You can feel the spit beginning to slide down your chin, but when you try to wipe it away your brother’s best friend pins your arm above your head. You squeak into his mouth, feeling him smile against you. 

He pulls back just slightly, catching your lower lip between his teeth and watching your eyes flutter, listening to the whine that escapes you. 

Hyunjae says something to you, something you don’t catch, and then he squeezes your hip.

“Sorry. What did you say?” He smiles, and this time you know he’s amused. There’s a little twinkle in his eye, and you find yourself smiling along with him.

“I said,” he drawls, “that we should get out of here.” 

“Oh…” you hum. “Yeah, no, yeah we should.” He tilts your head up again, his eyes narrowing.

“Are you okay, doll?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You reassure him, “Just…a little shocked, I guess?” 

“Shocked,” he echoes, tilting his head to the side. “Shocked about what, doll?” You shrug, your cheeks starting to burn from the way he stares at you. 

“You’re just…you’re a really good kisser.” You’re mumbling, but you know by the way his smile grows that he heard you.

“What was that?” He coos, turning his head so he can “hear you better”. You scoff. “I didn’t quite catch what you said. I’m a really good what?”

“I said you’re a dick,” you snap and push him away from you, your cheeks now blazing. He trails after you, practically giggling at the reaction he pulled out of you. Haknyeon is still at the table when you come into view and you see his eyes go wide when he sees you.

“What…happened to you?” You grab your jacket and bag, shaking your head. 

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, Hak.” You feel Hyunjae’s hand on the small of your back, urging you along and you watch your best friend’s eyes bug out of his head. 

“He— you— are you two—”

“She said she’ll tell you tomorrow, Hak.” Hyunjae says sharply, now firmly pushing you along. “Let’s go, doll.” 

~

You’re in his car, straddling his waist in the backseat. Your lips are pressed against his in a rough kiss, much sloppier than in the library. It’s a mess of tongue and teeth and spit and his skin is so warm against yours. Your hands are underneath his shirt, but his are under your own shirt. You can feel goosebumps rising on your skin where his hands trace. Your waist, your stomach, your back, underneath your breasts. He’s so gentle with you. You, on the other hand, are rough. Your hands are digging into the skin of his abdomen, sliding across his abs and up to his chest. He hisses when your nails dig into him, undoubtedly leaving little crescents into his golden skin. 

You pull away only briefly, a string of spit connected between the two of you. He’s staring at you with awestruck eyes, staring at the marks he left on your skin, at the knots he made in your hair, at the stretched collar of your shirt from where he pulled on it. 

“What happened to what Sangyeon would think?” Hyunjae’s hand slip to cup your ass over your jeans. 

“I’m not the one that’s gonna have to tell him that his best friend fucked his little sister in the backseat of his car in the library parking lot.” You tug your shirt over your head, tossing it to the front seat. To be fair, Hyunjae moved the car into the darkest corner of the lot, but his windows weren’t tinted and if security came around to check what was up, you’d both be fucked (in more ways than one). “Besides, should you really be worrying about that right now?”

Hyunjae lowers his mouth to your chest, placing wet, sloppy kisses to the soft skin while you unhook your bra and let it slide off your arms. 

“You’re really gonna make me do it? All on my own?” He gazes up at you and you can only smile at him.

“If you want me to suck your dick, yeah. You will.” His grip on your waist tightens and his eyes go wide. You lift his head, connecting your lips again as you begin to roll your hips against his. He hisses out, letting his head fall back at the sudden pressure against his growing erection. You let your eyes drift closed, enjoying the friction, enjoying the pleasure each roll of your hips sends up your spine until you decide it isn’t enough. Until the quiet, gasping breaths that escape the boy under you aren’t enough. Until you need more.

You force yourself off of him, pushing yourself as far back as you can in the cramped backseat of his car, the little waves of pleasure dissipating as you undo the button of your pants and begin to tug them down. Hyunjae watches you, eyes hazy and chest heaving under his shirt. You pause in your motions and stare at him with a cocked eyebrow. 

“What?” He exhales heavily and you scoff, kicking his leg. He hisses, lifting his head and glaring at you.

“You really think I’m gonna be the only one undressing? Take your shit off, Lee Jaehyun.” He sits up, leaning toward you. Challenging you.

“Why would I do that, doll?” He coos. “I quite enjoy the little show you’re putting on for me.” You can hear the little tremor in his voice, can see his cock straining against his jeans. You love the act he puts on, the way he wants you to think he’s in charge, so you play along.

You widen your eyes, playing the role of a desperate little girl. He may be older, but you’re smarter. You’ve known him long enough to get an idea of what he likes, just based on what you’ve accidentally overheard from his conversations with your older brother. 

“Jae,” you practically purr, leaning forward and letting him see the way you’re squeezing your breasts together with your arms. He watches you lace your hands together, tenses when you place them on his knees and bring yourself forward until your mouth is right next to his ear. His breathing hitches when your breasts brush against his chest. “Can you please take your clothes off, baby?” You press a gentle kiss to his jaw. “I promise I’ll be good.” 

He doesn’t respond, but you can hear him shuffling, hear the zipper of his pants and feel him shoving the garment down his legs as fast as he can. His shirt follows after, and you lean back with a pretty little smile on your lips as you slowly pull your jeans down. Hyunjae watches you carefully, practically drooling as more and more of your skin is exposed to him. More for him to touch, to feel, to play with. 

When the last bit of your legs is exposed and your jeans are thrown to the side, he tugs you onto his lap again. You both hiss when his fully erect cock presses against your core, when the slick fabric of your underwear brushes against him and leaves a small damp spot on his boxers. Your hand rises to the back of his neck, nails scratching gently as you begin to roll your hips again. 

You aren’t slow this time, you aren’t gentle with him. You grind against him as if you’re already riding his cock. You roll your hips in gentle circles, pressing down hard with each drag of your hips. This is the pleasure you were searching for. This is soothing the ache that had been building and building since the night at the staircase. 

You listen to the pitiful whines that leave Hyunjae’s mouth, listen to the gasps, and the pleas. You feel the way he lifts his hips to meet yours, thrusting harder and harder with each moan of his name that leaves your mouth. 

“D-doll,” Hyunjae whimpers, “Y/N, please. ‘M s-so close, doll, please.” 

“Please what, baby?” You lower your head to his neck, sucking harsh purple marks into his skin and running your tongue over each one to sooth the burn you know is there. “Hmm? What do you need from your doll?”

“You pro-promised,” he pleaded, squeezing at your hips and trying desperately to get you to stop. You can feel his dick twitching underneath you, and your hips only move faster and harder against him. You can see the tears welling up in his eyes. 

“What did I promise, Jae?” You ask. “Tell me.”

“You prom— promised you’d— that you’d suck me off.” You kiss your teeth, slowing your hips. Your own body is screaming at you, begging you for the release you’d just ripped away from both of you. You, unlike Hyunjae, are good at hiding how desperate you really are to have him inside of you. He’s still thrusting into you, whining at the loss of pleasure. 

“I did, didn’t I?” You run the back of your hand down his cheek and watch him lean into your touch. “I can’t let my baby suffer now, hmm? Not after he asked so nicely.” 

Hyunjae watches in awe as you slide to the ground in front of him, tugging his boxers down with you. He watches as you brush your hand over his leaking cock, running your thumb over the slit and digging in. He whines loudly, jerking his hips into your touch. 

You pull your hand away just briefly to spit into your palm, using that and the pearly liquid leaking from his tip to help run your hand up and down on his length, squeezing gently when you get closer to his tip. 

When your lips finally wrap around him, a shudder runs down Hyunjae’s body, his back arching and his head falling back. There’s a brief moment between when you first put your mouth on him to when you begin to suck, one where you just watch the older boy twitch and shudder under your touch. 

You don’t linger too long, shifting and rising a bit on your knees so you can take more of him down your throat. Your hands grip at his thighs, squeezing tightly when he hits the back of your throat and you have to hold yourself back from gagging. You pull yourself back up, suckling at his tip before bringing yourself back down onto him, taking a bit more of him into your mouth. You repeat these actions until you’re able to take all of him into your mouth. 

From there, when you take him down your throat you moan around him, letting the vibrations hit him until his hips jerk up and he’s sent impossibly farther down your throat before pulling yourself back up and digging your tongue into his slit and drinking in the precum that leaks from his cock. He’s a whining, blubbering mess, begging you to go faster. To make him cum. To do anything except tease him, but you don’t listen. You take your time, occasionally pulling off his dick entirely just to watch him suffer. 

“‘M close again,” he chokes out, barely heard above the sloppy noises of you choking on his cock time and time again. His eyes, up until this point, have been squeezed shut. He’s afraid that if he looks at you, he’ll bust right then and there. “Fuck, doll, please.” 

He makes the fatal mistake of opening his eyes, making direct eye contact with you. His breath hitches in his throat again, his chest tightening. You look so messy, drool running down your chin and onto his balls. Your make up is running down your cheeks, your hands squeezing so tightly at his thighs. 

It just takes you sending him into the back of your throat one more time for him to regain control of himself, gripping your hair and sitting up a bit. Your eyes go wide when he thrusts into your mouth the first time. He hears you gag, but he’s just so close. He’s so close, and he can’t help how his hips move faster and faster, each brush of his tip against the back of your throat sending him spiraling just a bit more out of control.

“You thought I’d just let you take control?” he hisses, tugging your face towards his hips when you try to pull away. He can hear your muffled sobs, hear you gagging on him. “Let you run this show? Pretty girl, you have no idea what you just got yourself in—to—” He stutters his last word, his eyes rolling into the back of his head while he empties his load into your throat. He hears you choke and pulls back, letting the last ropes of cum paint your cheeks and your chin while more spills out the side of your mouth. 

Hyunjae gasps for breath, watching you pull yourself back onto the seat with your back pressed against the door. He watches you run your fingers through the mess on the lower half of your face, bringing it to your lips. You whine at the taste of him, and he feels his cock twitching back to life already. 

Then he notices the lack of underwear on your body. Sometime between you taking control, and him forcing it back you stripped yourself of the last bit of clothing on your body. He turns toward you, wrapping a hand around each of your legs to spread you open. Your eyes are wide again, and you try to protest when he lowers himself to be face-to-face with your sopping wet cunt. 

“Such a pretty doll,” he murmurs, bringing a finger to your slit and collecting some of your juices. Your body twitches, trying to pull away from him but he just pulls you closer. “So cute, still trying to be in control of something.” 

He runs his tongue all the way up the length of your pussy, stopping to suck on your clit before bringing his tongue back down and repeating that again and again and again. You writhe underneath him, moaning loudly when he digs his tongue into you, practically fucking you with it before he’s slipping two fingers inside of you. You knew it would sting with just one of his fingers, but the burn of two fingers pushing inside of you and immediately beginning to pump in and out of you at a rapid pace has you crying out and curling away from him. He just holds you closer, his fingers scissoring in and out and his mouth sucking relentlessly and the knot inside of you is growing so tight, your body curling and your hands gripping his hair tightly. 

Then your body goes slack, your vision blurring and your ears ringing as you release all over the bottom half of his face. He doesn’t relent, doesn’t stop drinking up your release until you’re kicking your legs and shoving his body away from you. 

You both gasp for breath, trying to recover. Your body is tingling with your release and you can see Hyunjae leaning against the door opposite you, running his hand up and down his length while he watches you, waiting for his cock to become erect again so he can fuck you.

“So,” his voice is rough, “now that we’re somewhat even, I vote that we both tell Sangyeon that I fucked his little sister in the backseat of my car.” You roll your eyes.

“I just gave you the best suck of your life, and you think I’m gonna tell my big brother that his best friend fucked me? His best friend that’s two years older than me?”

“You’re 21,” Hyunjae frowns, “two years isn’t that bad. If you were 14 and I was 16, then it would be weird, but that’s not the case. We’re both legal adults in college.” His hand slows on his cock, but he keeps his fingers wrapped around the tip. You run your tongue over your lip.

“Jaehyun, I thought you hated me. What changed?” He shrugged.

“Simple. I never hated you. Sure for a while you were just my best friend’s annoying sister, but like…I dunno. I never really hated you, I just didn’t know how else to interact with you. What about you? I thought you hated being around me.”

“Yeah because I wanted to make out with you half the time you were around,” you roll your eyes and let your head rest against the steamed window. Hyunjae sputters out a laugh, throwing his head back and yelping when it slams against the glass. You gasp and jump forward, crawling over his lap to cradle his head.

“Shit, Jae, are you alright?” You run your fingers through his hair, feeling for where his hit his head. He lets his forehead rest against your collarbone, still laughing. “Why would you throw your head back like that?”

“You sure have a funny way of showing that you like me, you know that, doll?” His lips press gently into your skin and you flick the side of his head. He hisses under his breath and pinches your hip. 

“You worry me sometimes, Lee Jaehyun.” He hums and brings his hands to your hips. “You gonna fuck me now?” He kisses his teeth and pushes you off his lap until you’re on the leather seats again. 

“Hands and knees, doll,” he instructs and you grin.

“Ooh, doggy style. Didn’t think you liked that kind of thing.” You roll onto your hands and knees, lowering the front half of your torso until you’re able to lay your head on your hands and (sort of) gaze back at Hyunjae. You watch him pull a foil packet out of the center console and click your tongue. “Only use one if you want to. I’m clean and on birth control. As long as you’re clean and fine with it, you don’t have to.” You watch the man behind you shudder again.

“God, Sangyeon really is gonna fuckin’ kill me, doll.”

“Problem for tomorrow, really.” You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his tip pressing into your entrance. A quite whine escapes you at the stretch, and Hyunjae rubs your sides to sooth you while he continues to slowly press himself inside of you.

“Almost there, baby.” He assures you. “Just a bit over halfway.”

“Are you shitting me?” you whine. “Why the fuck are you so big?”

“Good genetics, doll.” You feel his hips against your ass and your body relaxes slightly. “Tell me when, okay?” 

“Just fucking go already,” you hiss, fighting through the stretch. “God, just fuck me Hyunjae, please.” Your hips roll back against his and he exhales shakily. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“It’s either me or my brother, pick one baby.” 

Your teeth dig into your lip when Hyunjae gives an experimental, shallow thrust into you. He pulls out a few more inches and thrusts into you again. When he pulls himself out all the way to the tip, he inhales sharply before plunging into you. Your body jerks forward at the force of it, a moan escaping you, and then he’s plowing into you at full force. 

Hyunjae drives his hips into you hard and fast, your body jerking forward so much that you have to grab onto the door to stop yourself from hitting it. The moans you let out become loud cries and screams of his name and you know that if there’s anyone left in the parking lot, they’ll know exactly what’s happening. You can only pray that they know better than to approach the window, pray that they can’t see the way you beg for Hyunjae to move faster, to go harder if that were possible. 

“Such a good, pretty girl for me,” Hyunjae tangles a hand in your hair, yanking you back into his chest. The new angle has his cock driving into that spongey spot inside of you time and time again. “So pretty like this, filled with me. But what would Sangyeon think, hm? What will he think of his pretty little sister getting fucked senseless by his best friend, someone he trusted to look after her while she studies?”

“F-fuck, Hyunjae, please!” You beg, clawing at his hands and his hips and the back of his neck. “Fuck, harder, baby, harder!’

“You want me to go harder baby?” Hyunjae coos, sliding one of his hands down to your clit. “Want your brother’s best friend to fuck you until you can’t breathe? Until you’re begging me to stop?”

“Yes,” you cry out, “please please please, Hyunjae!” He groans, loud and raspy in your ear and you can feel your abdomen starting to tighten okay. “Oh god, I’m so close baby please! So close, so close!” 

“I know baby,” he grunts, “fuck, you’re so fucking tight around me, doll.” 

His fingers are rubbing harsh circles around your sensitive clit, the callouses of his hands providing that delicious friction to drive you straight over the edge screaming his name and squeezing tightly around his cock like a vice until he can only grind his hips into you, and then he’s groaning and warm ropes of cum are filling you and spilling out around his cock. 

It takes the two of you a few minutes to recover before he’s pulling tissues and wipes out of his glove compartment and gently wiping away any traces of his release. When he gets to your face, he can only smile at the dazed look in your eyes.

“So, I take it I’m telling your brother?”

“You can bet your ass you are.” He hums and places a featherlight kiss to your lips. 

“You called me Hyunjae for the first time.” You hum.

“Don’t get used to it, Lee Jaehyun. It was heat of the moment.” He laughs, tugging his boxers and jeans back onto his body before helping you with your bra and underwear. 

“I meant it, you know.” He says when he’s got you situated in the front seat of the car. You look at him with tired eyes, enjoying the heat that comes with his car being on. Your seat is reclined so you can rest on your way home, and one of your hands is wrapped in Hyunjae’s. “When I told you that I never hated you. And if you’d let me, I want to take you out on a date after finals.” 

The thought brings a gentle smile onto your face.

“Only if Sangyeon doesn’t kill you first.”

~

It’s two days later when you force Hyunjae to tell him. The marks on your neck, and the scratches on Hyunjae’s haven’t faded in the slightest, and you know Sangyeon has been asking his best friend about them. 

You’d been sitting on your bed with your boyfriend when Sangyeon burst into the room, yelling at you about the dishes and stopping when he saw the two of you curled up on your comforter. You could see his mind trying to click everything into place, followed by your brother taking a few steps forward and Hyunjae sliding off your bed to get to your open window. 

“LEE JAEHYUN YOU’RE SO FUCKING DEAD!” Your brother screams out the open window while Hyunjae makes a run for his house, one hand thrown into the air. 

“WORTH IT!” You hear him yell, and you can’t muffle the laugh you let out before your brother turns on you with nothing but rage in those brown eyes of his. 

“Lee Y/N,” he hisses.

“In my defense, it was all him.” You back away from your brother, shuffling to the edge of your room.

“You’re dating my best friend?” 

“Maybe? Depends on how you react to either answer.”

“Oh, I’m gonna fucking kill you both.”

“Only if you can catch us!” You bolt out of your room, screaming when you hear him pounding after you. 

Maybe telling your brother wasn’t the best idea. But, then again, it was all worth it in the end. Dying young wouldn’t be so bad, at least in your eyes.

[newlacesleeves]

okay fine fine i'll take the silly karate show seriously for a second.

i have spent most of the day talking about what i liked about it because, well, there was a lot i did like. remember, the bar wasn't just on the floor. it was buried in mariana's trench. but to say it exceeded my expectations is still an understatement. i really did like it.

putting this under a cut. spoiler warning obv. (also me talking in stream of consciousness.)

as for criticisms, yeah i have some. the first being the same one everyone else has: there were almost no johnny & robby moments. robby beats miguel for captain and johnny chooses to comfort miguel for his loss. he gives them both the exact same speech before they fight. literally word for word. now, sure, we can imagine their relationship is still pretty fraught but this would have been a good opportunity for johnny to show how proud he is of robby and instead we got...nothing. huh. okay then.

the next would be tory. i cannot fucking fathom why they set up this friendship between sam and tory and everyone only for NONE OF HER FRIENDS to comfort her or go to her when her fucking mom dies. (on a positive note, that episode won the whole season for me. more on that later.) obviously the idea is to set up tory running straight into kreese's arms but also we could have had that set up and still shown some fucking sympathy for her. (another positive: peyton list can act her ass off.) it felt out of character for all of them. sam spends all of the third episode befriending tory. they have that million minute hug. what do you mean sam didn't run after her and instead just accepted her captain position?

also. samtory. i kinda wish they dragged it out just a little longer. especially considering what transpires in ep. 5 (or doesn't?)

devon and kenny. what devon did to kenny was fucked up and just. wow not okay. i didn't like it. i didn't find it funny. again, it's a set up for conflict between kenny and anthony but 1. is that really necessary at this point? and 2. why THAT? it was cruel and unnecessary. devon trained for like 6 weeks she's not as good as the others use that as a character development tool instead of her cheating to win. i liked devon when she was introduced. i don't know if i like her at all now. she came off as petulant and entitled and it left me feeling so disappointed in her.

and the miyagi secret. look, i think it's ridiculous that they added this plotline in the first place but besides that, what exactly did we learn? he may have robbed a guy and he was a boxer? and he fought in the sekai talkai? (that part might be intersting let's see where that goes.) it just didn't really land for me personally. we could probably do without it entirely and the season wouldn't change.

okay some positives now. guess what they're almost all about johnny i'm not even sorry if you're following me you should be expecting this from me.

from the fucking beginning we get to see some actual growth from him. the whole naming the dojo thing in previous seasons would have been the cause for the dojo divorce but johnny and daniel both handled it so well and so mature i could cry.

the fact that they made him a car salesman and not like a mechanic or a janitor was also great. i feel like this season they really gave johnny some positive pride in himself. the way he talks about eagle fang and how he built it himself. how he learns from chozen when they go house hunting. and him being a GOOD car salesman not just pretending to do it for laughs. i loved that. i loved it so fucking much. that's what i want to see going forward. to that end, they finally eased up on the "johnny is a moron" shtick. thank god. because he's actually not a moron, he's not a complete idiot he has thoughtful ideas and can create lesson plans that have deeper meanings and all of that is innate in his character and should be played up more rather than "here's the himbo from the 80s who doesn't know what pandora's box is or how public parks work."

episode 5 really nailed it for me. tory's grief is palpable. her fighting through it literally is beautiful to me. and yes, YES, it was the right thing to do to stop the fight okay i'm not saying they shouldn't have. but what we get out of that is a real and emotional and RAW fight between daniel and johnny. not about fighting styles or who has the better dojo. they are both coming at this situation from their own trauma and past and johnny explains that (bonus points for the laura mention THANK YOU WRITERS) and daniel isn't hearing him so he goes for the jugular and daniel reacts in the MOST DANIEL LARUSSO WAY I HAVE SEEN SINCE SEASON 3. he punches johnny right there and doesn't hold back even if you can see the regret on his face a moment later. and johnny -- the GROWTH is in the way he doesn't react. he doesn't punch back. it's a real fucking moment for the two of them. we aren't talking about defense vs. offense. we're talking about GRIEF and all of johnny's bottled rage about feeling sidelined by daniel this whole time (which has been sort of daniel's default stage for the last few seasons) comes spilling over the top and it was such a good moment of catharsis i will be thinking about it forever.

there were other things i liked: johnny leaning into his girl dad-ness, the fights (always the fights!!), the return of shawn, sleeveless gi my beloved, johnny prom king confirmation (never ever getting over it). but these were the stand out moments for me on my first watch.

and look. these were the first FIVE of FIFTEEN episodes for this season. a lot of y'all are acting like this is the whole thing when this is literally just the beginning. so i understand what you're saying about what the show lacked but it's not like they're ending it here. we have ten more episodes to go let's hope they continue the trajectory they're on in the next drop.

TL/DR: I LIKED IT A LOT.

[keeksybee]

Just watched ‘Fear no Mort’ and wow was it a gut punch, I mean ooft “You’re irreplaceable” being the thing to tip him off, but that’s already been done to death, I’m personally more fascinated with Morty’s subconscious interpretation of his Grandmother, IMO it was a curious direction for the writers to take her, she’s a little too much like Rick for my taste, her her being intellectual definitely tracks, I doubt Rick would have married stupid but I always imagined she’d be…gentler, kinder, Rick’s grounding point.

They were happy when they were married, he loved her, there’s no reason for her to be a drinker or cruel or have that mean streak like Rick does because he didn’t really do those things before her lost her, she was the catalyst for his self sabotaging behaviours, I can see her being witty, knowing how to reel Rick back but I never thought she’d be like him, then I realised this *wasn’t* Diane it was Morty’s subconscious creating what he thought his Grandmother was like and since he’s never had any other reference for Diane except Rick’s anecdotes, nor seen Rick when he was healthy it makes sense he assumes Diane had to be like Rick for them to have been compatible.

He can’t actually fathom that Rick might have married a perfectly normal, intelligent woman and stayed in their small Washington town, raising their daughter in their little suburb, in their little nuclear family and he would have been content with that, because Rick can’t be content, he’s always chasing the next physical or metaphorical high, the exceptional, something he (Morty) is not, as Rick takes great relish in reminding him, I found it kinda sad that he sees Diane as competition for his Grampa’s affection rather than a new figure to create a relationship with, this is his Grandmother whom he’s never gotten to meet, that most children would be ecstatic to get to know a long lost family member, especially one held so dear by another close to them, but he doesn’t seem to want to get to know her because she takes Rick away, and let’s be honest Morty doesn’t have anyone else, his life is intrinsically tied to his Grandfather, he doesn’t have friends that we can see, his family either treat him like a burden or ignore him completely so the only person to give him attention, positive or negative is just Rick, they’re parasitically codependent to the point he is nothing without Rick. He’s more competent than he ever was and yet he still doesn’t get half the care or consideration that a fake simulation of his Grandmother gets.

I honestly interpret this version of Diane as not canonically how she was as much as this version is what Morty’s jealousy over Rick never moving on from her manifests as, he’s jealous that Diane got normal, family man Rick, that there was a time when he was decent and good and selfless that he’ll never get to experience, Rick won’t even help with his damn homework and he’s just willing to die for HER, she doesn’t even EXIST, Rick who never gives up, never accepts failure, will happily walk like lamb to the slaughter for HER, he’ll just stay in the hole until it consumes him. Why isn’t Morty good enough? He deals with all Rick’s Bullshit ALL the time, he’s the one losing limbs, he’s the one Rick leaves at the drop of a hat for two crows, he’s the one that he trusts less than Summer, he’s the one taking the blame for too many of Rick’s fuck ups to count and he won’t LEAVE THE DAMN HOLE.

He doesn’t see himself as important enough to leave the hole for, he makes Diane mean and selfish because it makes her easier to resent, because if she was sweet and loving and considerate she’d be so much harder to despise so he makes her selfish and compatible with the Rick *he* knows so he’s not forced to think about who Rick would chose if push really came to shove because he has a nauseating feeling it wouldn’t be him, that Rick wouldn’t hesitate.

I wonder what Rick would think if I’d he’d gotten to see just what his Grandson thought of himself.

[punkeropercyjackson]

I really don't like how Percy being attracted to Jason is always connected back to Annabeth by the fandom.It's passive aggressive towards Jercy shippers because it's trying to say 'Remember,Percy may love Jason but it's ONLY because he loved Annabeth FIRST :)' and it's so lowkey hateful for no reason????Percy would be in love with Jason because he's his best friend,not because he's the male version of girlfriend(and he's actually her opposite) and it's kinda gross to Percy by making him look shallow and straight up mean to Jason by making his feelings for him insincere just like what he got at Camp Jupiter from his 'admirers' and they both deserve a million times better than that after all they've been through and frankly so does Annabeth.Is that all you see her as?????'Percy's mean and smart blonde girlfriend'?That's just cruel,ESPECIALLY because it's canon that she dosen't even like being blonde(a messy ass scene,i know,but my point stands)and wants to be seen as more than her hair color.You're not doing anything with this but screwing over every character involved for jokes and fanon dynamics that should've been left behind in the 2010s.Also i'm sorry but i do not give a FUCK that everyone in-universe keeps insisting Percy/Annabeth is a soulmates situation because it's a fucking book series and not a good reason to be mean to irl people for shipping other couples?????Like not to quote a dead meme but calm down Greg,it's fucking Percabeth

[toffeacademia]

ninjago season 8 rant

something something season 8 revolving around three masks being the sole object of interest in the season something something themes of deception and intrigue and whether people can be trusted; the idea of people having “masks” of their own (i.e ulterior motives) *cough* Harumi *cough* something something the season ending in an ultimate betrayal between two people and also the season ending with the acceptance of someone’s true colors (Harumi and Garmadon’s lack of love for Lloyd). Genuinely tho, I love that we were given a battle where Lloyd is stubborn in his belief that he can change his father again without accepting the fact that the evil him is quite inherently, and almost absolutely evil. His evilness isn’t another mask or defense that Lloyd can break down to resolve the conflict and bring peace. (I’m reaching here ik but I needed to write this down as I’m rewatching this masterpiece of a season).

(From here on it’s more ranting, so if you wanna keep reading be my guest)

speaking of Harumi, after watching s8 for the first time, see that first interaction between her and the ninja is kinda hilarious because she literally states her analysis of each of their characters and she even lingers on Lloyd (which was both hinting the romance and also their parallels as a hero and a villain). plus, I think it shows Harumi’s skill at reading emotions: she definitely would have noticed Nya’s skepticism of her and her family, so she appealed to Nya through flattery. I think Nya was still skeptical but it was that little bit of flattery and respect from someone else, especially without immediately assuming and stating her place in the team is being “the girl”. No, Harumi understands that Nya hates being undermined like that so she appeals to her pride and sense of self. i think she was also able to use that skill to get close to Lloyd. That initial sharing of their backstories (LITERALLY WHEN THEY FIRST MET) and then, responding to his advances. Then, as the season goes on, she’s able to use her knowledge of him to get closer and closer and brings his walls down, making him vulnerable to her manipulation. call me sadistic, but I kind of appreciate the idea of reopening old wounds in s8. obviously, referring to Lloyd having to once again confront a corrupted “evilised” version of his father. When I first watched the season, the return of garmadon kind of implied, to me, that Lloyd hadn’t gotten over his dad’s sacrifice, but then I remembered s5 and decided against it.

season 8 was just a lot of guilt thrown into Lloyd and it really tested one of his greatest traits, perseverance. It’s clear from literally season 1. Lloyd is so determined to that he’s like his father and have his vengeance on the ninja that he releases ancient snakes and opens ancient tombs to have his vengeance. But then it’s bites him back in the ass when Python betrays him.

When he meets someone who’s his like first crush and relationship who suffered because of his previous choices and actions, he must have been heartbroken. Granted, he was literally just a kid. And then add even more salt to the wound when the girl he liked wants to resurrect the apparently evil side of his dad? Cruel. But still, Lloyd perseveres and he still ignores the fact that the odds are against him and tries to connect with his dad like last time. But he’s proven wrong and literally loses his powers in the same battle. He’s literally on his last straw of hope until he sees his friends get fucking crushed by his dad’s stone giant and that leaves him broken. Then the whole of season 9 is him finding that unwavering perseverance once again. Yeah he’s definitely one of my favorite characters.

plus Harumi’s betrayal and again, Garmadon’s evilness is a test of his ability to always see the good in others. It really shows how much it is a flaw as much as it is a strength and it definitely changes him. Cuz I mean, shit like that will change you. I love the writers for giving us that. in a darker sense, it’s almost similar to idea of a child losing their innocence.

yeah so this is basically a s8 (and oni trilogy ig) appreciation post

[thesharktanksdriver]

DETERMINATION QUESTIONS!⁽⁠⁽⁠◝⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠௰⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠◜⁠⁾⁠⁾

1) how does doffy feel about Reader? I mean in the sense of does doffy feel indebted or in some way attached to reader ? Because I feel like he's so complex that it could be taken in many ways his feelings (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

2) could Reader be killed forever if they were stabbed or just kinda killed with an sea Stone weapon ? Or is it even possible for reader to ever die in any way (other than losing determination)

3) doffy is a know figure in the sl@ve trade , so how does he feel about the fact reader was or is sometimes a slave ? :⁠'⁠(

Love the work!!!! (English is my first language so sorry if it's strangely spelled:⁠-⁠P) Sincerely AN ᕦ⁠(⁠ò⁠_⁠ó⁠ˇ⁠)⁠ᕤ

Hi!!!!!!!! Thank you for the questions for my favourite fashion disaster war criminal (lol) also don’t worry about ur English! I can read it just fine 👍

(Warning for themes of possession, obsession, slavery and doffy as a whole.)

1) Doffy’s feelings towards y/n specifically his attachment is definitely due to both a sense of gratitude/indebtment along with a sense of possession. They were his and rosinante’s only friend growing up despite the fact they were also hated by association. They’re held dear to him for their part in trying to make what should’ve been a shitty childhood at least a little better. But the real interesting part is when they die for him and his brother. They decided his life was more than their own which kinda empowers his superiority complex and attachment issues because they were his friend that was suppose to stay by his side no matter what. His friend, his.

As Doffy gets older this sentiment is reinforced more especially as he makes his “family”. It doesn’t feel complete without them. No one can compare to them, what they did for him, died for his safety. They’re his friend, he didn’t give them permission to die and leave him to go someplace else, their place is at his side like a good friend should be.

Doffy’s perception of them from when he was young to when he’s older is heavily corrupted even at the beginning. When he was younger they were still “his” friend, but back then it was more due to not wanting to loose them just as he lost the life of luxury he once had. They were his only luxury left and he wanted to keep that close. But as he got older that sentiment had time to fester and for him to become more attached to the idea of them rather than y/n themself.

He doesn’t care what y/n wants or thinks, he just wants them at his side again so he can cling to what he thinks is one of the only things that can make him happy.

(Boy that explanation was long lol, but I love going in depth on characters like him)

2) I’d say with sea stone weapons it moreso has the capacity to make y/n’a regeneration a lot slower. Simply being stabbed by a sea stone weapon would make the wait time for them to reappear much slower and leave a permanent scar on their body. I’m trapped in a room of sea stone though for an extended period of time it could potentially kill them or at least weaken them to a point where it would take years for them to appear again

3)for awhile now Doffy’s knew and had suspicions that y/n didn’t properly die but when it is confirmed for him he does a log of digging. And let’s just say he isn’t happy. Him finding out that for a while they were a slave really infuriates him, not at the cruel dehumanizing system he actively participates in but rather that it’s them who went through being treated like less than dirt and it wasn’t him who had found them first. The person who took rocks meant to hit him and his brother once more being put through torment.

But as fucked as it is to say he’s uses this to his advantage. He makes requests for traders to find them, gives their description and waits for any news back. He doesn’t care if he literally gets “his friend” back by participating in the system that hurt them and traumatized them. He just sees it as a means to an end to get back what was his in the first place that was stolen by others. He’ll pull and strings he needs both physically and metaphorically if it means getting them back.

He doesn’t beat around the bush with this either. He asks other warlords or pirates to look for someone of their description and promises a giant price. He doesn’t care how much he has to pay for them, “his” friend is priceless to him anyways.

he watches some of his fellow warlords squirm when he makes this offer. Jinbe, Mihawk, even crocodile. What interests him most is Boa’s reaction though. Watches the disgust in her eyes along with fear and a deep sadness.

He pokes at her and gets yelled at in return but he knows he’s found a weak spot.

[xxavengingangelxx]

Long Way from Home 1/?

Ok, so here is chapter one of I don't know how many. I have 25 pages of this. My goal is to immerse the reader in this world and put them into the OC's shoes as she questions her sanity and breaks down. I don't know how it's going to end yet.

Same intro: 141's translator isn't able to escape after Graves's betrayal. He takes her, thinking she has information. Things go horribly. Stockholm Syndrome eventually sets in and our OC feels her 141 identity being ripped to shreds while a new one, possibly loyal to Shadow Company takes hold.

Idk how this is going to do because it's a darker fic. War Criminal Graves for sure. Really insecure about this one :/

READ: Trigger warnings (for the whole fic): Kidnapping, eventual dub-con, threatened rape, torture, mind fucking games, implied/referenced suicide, self-harm.

TAGS: Dub-con, violence, torture, implied/referenced suicide, self-harm.

-

Graves.

You looked up at him as your vision became clearer. Your head was pounding. You realized you were lying in the street. Did someone hit you over the head? You couldn’t recall. Graves started shooting and everyone ran for cover or tried shooting back. You shot back maybe once or twice. Truth was you were terrified of Graves’s Shadows and wanted to get the hell away from them.

You were able to camouflage into the woods and managed to make it to the streets on your way to the agreed upon rendezvous point, which was planned in case just an event happened.

The coldness, hardness, and wetness of that same street took your attention away from the sharp pains seemingly crushing your skull. Raindrops made your vision blurry every now and then as they landed in your eyes.

But that didn’t stop you from glaring at Graves. If looks could kill the man would’ve dropped dead on the spot. After all the missions, all the teamwork, and especially all the nights spent with him…you felt disgusted.

But you still felt small, vulnerable, like prey, even with all your gear on. You were flat on your back surrounded by Shadows (demons)…and Graves. You were beginning to worry. Sure, you’d received the training required to tag along with the 141 but definitely not quite all of it. How the hell were you going to put up with being tortured for information or being held captive if it came to that?

“141’s translator.” Graves smirked. “Good to see ya again, Valdez. Been better though, yeah?”

You said nothing. The firefight had stopped although you didn’t know how much time had passed between the end of the fight and now. You only hoped Soap, Ghost, and Alejandro were okay. You didn’t know what all had happened. All you remembered is that gunshots rang out and everyone ran.

You apparently didn’t run fast enough.

“Where are your friends?” Graves commanded, looking down on you with his hands clutching his vest.

Arrogant bastard.

“141?”

“Duh.”

“I dunno,” you answered simply. “You kinda fucked everything up when you started shooting.”

He laughed. He sounded cruel.

“Where are they?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Don’t act. You had to have a rendezvous point.”

You remained silent.

Graves paused before saying, “Actually you know what? Let’s get outta this rain.”

Rough and careless hands grabbed your arms and pulled you into a sitting position, soaking the rest of your clothes.

“Watch it,” you snapped. “Cabron. No me vuelvas a tocar,” you added in your native tongue, demanding he not touch you again.

You heard Graves scoff from the inside of a dilapidated building. He then said, “Cuff ‘er and bring ‘er to me.”

You felt those same rough hands placed thick plastic zip ties around your wrists after pulling your arms behind your back and he pull them tight, almost painfully so. You were then pulled to stand in the same coarse manner before being led into a building that looked like it was barely standing. It had been gutted inside and out. The same Shadow shoved you and you fell onto your knees and shin hard in front of Graves. You felt your knees scrape and bleed.

“Forgot how good you look on your knees,” he smirked. He reached towards you and you almost bit him. He ripped your radio off, also taking your earpiece with it and cutting your ear. He gave it to one of his men, telling them to get rid of it.

You ignored what Graves had said because how could he fucking forget when you’d just seen him last night? You instead decided to temporarily focus your anger on the Shadow that had roughed you up earlier. “Fuckin’ asshole,” you snapped at the faceless man. “Tu mama no te enseño que los hombres no les pegan a las mujeres?” You then shot back, asking him if his mother never taught him that men don’t hit women.

“Now you need to knock that Spanish shit off,” Graves mentioned. “You’re in the presence of Americans so speak English.”

You said nothing, only scowled at him even though he was currently towering over you.

He laughed. “Still got that mouth on you I see. Good for telling others off, translating, and…other things, too, huh?”

You felt your cheeks blush but out of anger. Your ears felt hot despite the cool rainy night. Apparently Graves liked to kiss and tell. The fact that the last time you’d slept with him was right before this mission left you feeling absolutely disgusted. You felt like he’d raped you in a way as he didn’t tell you who he really was.

“Where’s 141?” He asked again, standing before you and again reaching up to grasp his vest. You saw that lines or scratches and scars lined his forearms.

“I told you I don’t know.” You paused before adding, “Si te lo digo en español lo entenderás mejor? No se.” You asked if you telling him in Spanish might help him understand better.

“You really need to start cooperating here,” He walked about you in a circle and you felt like he was a wolf circling injured prey.

“I don’t know, man!” You snapped. “We all had to run for cover when you and your goons started shooting.” You paused before adding, “Heard they knocked a few of your Shadows off.”

One of the Shadows from behind you kicked you and your vest roughly, almost making you fall sideways. You gave a scowl in that general direction before focusing back on Graves. “You’ve been planning this shit for awhile haven’t you?”

“Look at you, so perceptive,” Graves cooed. It was creepy. “All I did was told them I was in charge and they didn’t like it.”

“So you betrayed them?”

“No, no,” he stopped dead in front of you again and knelt so you were both at eye level. His eyes were cold, icy, like the arctic. You smelled blood and gunpowder and you wondered if it was his blood or some of your teammates’. You silently prayed they were okay. His eyes had never looked like that before. “They betrayed me.”

You laughed callously. “Bullshit,” You tried to stop yourself from saying the next thing but it was said before you even knew it. “You’re a traitor, Graves. And a fucking war criminal.”

With that he smacked you across the face. Hard. You cried out, tasting blood. You shook your hair from your face and turned back in his direction.

“So you hit women, too now?” You gasped, spitting blood in between his boots as he kneeled in front of you. “At the very least you have treason and usurpation.”

“It doesn’t need to be this way. I need to know where they are.”

“Why, to kill them?”

“Nah, I wanna keep ‘em,” he added threateningly. “Some brainwashing and they’d make a good team for me.”

“Go to hell, fuckin’ traitor.”

He reached out, grasping your hair so tightly you yelped. He tilted your head up to make sure you made eye contact with him.

“If you use that word again I will kill your friends when I find them. Not before I kill you in front of them first, though.” He didn’t break eye contact, almost expecting a reply from you. “Are we really gonna have to do this the hard way?”

You didn’t speak.

“Fine,” he responded. He stood up, his height allowing him to tower over you again. He drew his sidearm and pulled the hammer back, placing a bullet in the chamber.

So this is how you were going to die. On bloodied knees in front of what you now considered an enemy combatant. He placed the gun to your head and you felt the cold barrel through your thin, wet hair.

“Call them,” Graves demanded.

“No,”

You weren’t expecting it when he hit you with his sidearm across the side of your face. You screamed in pain, falling flat on the floor. You vision was blurry and the sounds around you were going in and out. You saw him step closer is you flinched, mumbling, “Don’t!” When you thought he was about to kick you. Graves grabbed your vest and hauled you back to your knees.

“Call them,” Graves commanded again, his voice louder in volume and deeper in tone.

“I can’t,” you gasped, your head throbbing. You shut your eyes, wanting to be anywhere else but here. You opened them and you were still there, effectively being tortured.

Graves stepped out in front of you. It was dead silent, the only sounds being the crickets and the rain. You met his eyes trying to muster any sympathy. You were likely concussed at least two times over and you were in pain. His eyes didn’t soften and his men didn’t even flinch. Were they seriously okay with this?!

He raised the gun at your chest.

And he fired.

The force of the bullet forced you onto your back and you felt ribs possibly break underneath your vest. You yelled in pain as you found yourself glancing up at the ceiling of the gutted building you were in. Your vest had stopped the bullet from penetrating but it still hurt like a motherfucker.

“Get ‘er back up and take her vest off,” you heard Graves tell one of his men.

Your body protested as you were again hauled up on your knees. The Velcro of your vest easily gave way to the strong arms ripping it open. It was tossed aside. You wanted to ask them to at least have some respect for the American flag on your vest but your energy was sapped. It was focused on staying quiet and surviving.

He was kneeling in front of you again and you wondered if he was going to shoot you point blank because he wanted to look in your eyes as you died. Pulling at your zip ties was useless.

Graves reached into his vest and pulled a large, black knife.

“You’re torturing a captive!”

“There’s the military and me,” Graves stated simply. “I’m not as bound by the rules.” He then leaned forward and sliced through your uniform shirt. Underneath all you had on was a pink tank top. He signaled to one of his men who then knelt directly behind you and pulled you up off your shins and onto solely your knees. He grasped your chin from behind and pulled up, forcing your line of sight up and away from Graves. Graves was completely out of view and you had no fucking idea what he was going to do.

“What’re you doing?!” you voice broke as you began panicking.

“I’m about to scar that pretty body if you don’t talk or call your friends.”

“I don’t know! I don’t!” you yelled out desperately. “You know I can’t do that to them,” you sniffled.

The first cut was deep but not deep enough to cause vital injuries. It went from your collarbone to just over your heart. At this point you just sputtered and cried.

“Either tell me where they are or call them.”

“I can’t!”

“No, you’re choosing not to.”

“I don’t know, I don’t fucking know!” Your breath came out in hurried, panicked gasps.

“Sounds like a rehearsed response to me,” The second cut Graves inflicted mirrored your first except it was on the opposite side of your chest. You couldn’t help it. You screamed.

“Graves what the fuck!” Your words echoed Soap’s from not too long ago. You believed you heard him sheathe his knife, presumably without cleaning it, almost as if he wanted your blood to adorn his vest.

“Let her go,”

The Shadow behind you released his grasp and you immediately fell onto your knees and shins, Doubling over in pain. Your once-pink tank top was covered in blood and the cuts on your chest would need stitches at the minimum.

“Hmm, they must not care about ya anymore,” Graves taunted. “Maybe you should come work for me.”

“Never, fuck you,”

“There’s that attitude again,” he laughed callously. “But you have to admit that would be a neat trick.” His voice was sickly sweet as he added, “Imagine that. You at my beck and call before I sicced you on 141.”

“Never,” you repeated.

“We could really, really use you,” Graves stood back up. “You speak Spanish, have experience with surveillance, countersurveillance, know the culture…”

“You wish,” you sighed.

“Well if this isn’t working and asking nicely isn’t working, we can try something else.”

You were past trying to hold back tears. Luckily your dark hair hid your face. You started at the ground, not daring to meet his gaze. With what he had said earlier you were scared another look at him would brainwash you. We circled you again and you couldn’t help but flinch when he got close.

“You and I had a pretty good working relationship, didn’t we?”

You didn’t answer.

“Answer me, soldier,” he demanded.

“Yes,” you snapped. “Not anymore.”

“You’re right not anymore. Maybe soon though.” He paused, scoffing before adding, “Didn’t we also agree to have certain friends with benefits activities?”

“Fuck you,” you half sobbed.

“Yeah you actually did,” there was that cold laugh again. He continued walking around you in a circle as you watched blood drip onto your dark pants.

This was humiliating.

“Man you worked wonders with that little mouth of yours,”

“Argh!” the yell came from your lips loudly. You were frustrated, concussed, in pain, had been betrayed, and now you were finding out that man you were starting to have feelings for was betraying not only but everyone. “You’re so fucking disgusting!” You shouted, raising your gaze to glare at him.

“How ‘bout a repeat?”

Your glare lost its edge for one of surprise and fear. Was he talking about…

“I’ll go first and they,” he signaled around to his men, adding, “Then they’ll go next. And if you keep pretending not to know we can make things…invasive. How’s that sound?”

“Jesus Christ, Graves,” you whispered, “you’re talking about torturing and raping a captive.” Your voice sounded weak, fearful.

“It’s up to you,” Graves shrugged. “You can stop this anytime you want. Or if you really wanna get laid without admitting it you can keep not talking.”

You whimpered.

“I mean, think about it,” Graves knelt in front of you again, keeping that sadistic blue gaze locked onto your darker one. “It’d happen right here when anyone can see what a fuckin’ slut you are. No one would help, either. They’d just watch it happen.”

You cried because what the hell else could you do? You weren’t used to this. You translated for fuck’s sake. You wouldn’t have ever imagined you’d be captured. Not in your worst nightmares. That was something for the movies, for fiction books.

“Keep up the charade and you’re going to suffer. I promise.” He glared at you with those blue-grey emotionless eyes. “I mean hell when I get sick of ya they’ll pass you around however the fuck they want to. I’m sure they’d love to have a shot at a 141 bitch.”

“Fuck yeah,” a Shadow said from behind you. “She’s a cute little thing. Love to see her cry some more.”

You were floored. How was this happening?

“Graves—” you started.

“Commander Graves to you from now on.”

“Commander Graves. I don’t know. Even if I did, they’ve moved on. They’re mobile,” you tried to reason. “I’m of no use to you.”

You saw his jaw muscle clench. “No, you’re gonna be useful, trust me.”

Your hopes that he would just untie you and send you back to 141 bloodied, beaten, and tortured to send a message fell to zero.

“Pick her up and bring her with us,”

“Fuck no, man,” you shook your head. You knew that you under no circumstances could you allow them to take you to a second location. It dropped your chances of survival to almost zero.

You were pulled to your feet roughly and you suddenly felt a wave of nausea. You were definitely concussed.

“Take her vest. Leave her name tag.” Graves wanted to send a message: she’s alive…come get her before I rip her to shreds.

The Shadow who pulled you up whispered hot and heavy in your ear through his mask. He had to lower himself to your level he was so tall. “Cry some more for me.”

He was so close to you, so close to your face you tried to bite him. “Try me, asshole.”

Graves, further again, laughed. A few other Shadows chuckled. Not because it was funny but because they were probably thinking: awe, how cute…she thinks she can take us.

You pulled and struggled and screamed and cursed. They easily kept control of you. They were too tall and too strong. They tossed you in the backseat of a black Tahoe and your cursed inwardly when you failed to get the plate.

Graves got in on the other side of the backseat. He easily reached over you, grabbing your seatbelt.

“Don’t! Don’t you fucking touch me!” you yelled.

The doors slammed shut and two more of his team got up front.

The van took off and you heard your seatbelt click into place.

You glanced in his direction. Your glare was gone. You were about to resort to pleading when you thought of one more idea. The windows were so dark you couldn’t see anything but you had to try.

You quickly leaned sideways towards Graves. The quick movement threw him off and he didn’t react immediately. It put you in a position to where you could kick the window. One, two, three kicks before Graves grabbed your hair, pulling you upright.

“You need to stop,” he warned darkly. “You almost broke my window.”

The cracked glass might be of some use and so you screamed. Screamed for help. You didn’t mention names but you just screamed for anyone to help.

“If she doesn’t shut up we’re gonna get pulled over,” someone said from the front. “There’s a few non-corrupt cops out here ya know.”

You felt a gloved hand tangle itself further in your hair and the other gloved hand place itself over your mouth.

“Hand me that,” you heard Graves say.

You tried biting but the gloves were too thick.

Graves untangled his hand from your hair and produced a roll of duct tape. “You need to stop biting,” he said darkly. You decided you would keep biting and scratching and kicking.

Using no gentleness at all, he wrapped the thick, suffocating tape over your mouth and around your head, effectively silencing you completely.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

And with that you gave up. You were going to die. You only hoped the US would at least get your body. Things quieted down. Graves worked on a laptop while the other two Shadows up front chatted about nothing in particular. It seemed like hours passed and your head injury wasn’t letting you keep track of the twists and turns.

Exhaustion and your concussion got the best of you and you surrendered to the darkness.

[funficwriter]

Celestial is Cruel (Tartaglia/Childe x Recruit!Reader)

A/N: Not much, apart from the fact that damn I got some... Fantasies. Fucked up ones but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a blast writing it. Hopping on to part 2!

Warnings: Sad, disrespect of graves, abuse of power, slight motif of punishment, kinda yandere, horny Tartaglia with even worse timing, talk of a dead friend.

He hated every single thing about this ordeal. The uncomfortable position on the tree was the least of them. At least it offered a good view of you.

He hated how you wailed like a child, because his sweet little recruit shouldn't be sad. He hated how you were laying on the tombstone, arms splayed out as if hugging your dearly departed friend, because such a passionate embrace should only be for him. He hated the flowers you got him tonight, because they symbolized mourning.

He hated it all, because you were giving everything... Your emotions, attentions, presence and more... To another man.

A dead one, too. Really, now! This is how you spent your free nights the last few weeks? Did they stop teaching cadets to not be too attached to each other? That the Fatui had death everyday?

No matter. As your Lord, he was going to put an end to this. He was going to put you back on the right path as a recruit. His recruit.

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

Deeper into the icy woods, laid your friend's grave. It was particularly hard to get to by virtue of being so nestled.

One wouldn't have to go as deep to hear you. It's been weeks and you still have such nights, wailing and apologizing to your companion of years. You also never dared an appearance without flowers, even if he wouldn't mind.

Your body felt cold against the tombstone. You could never pinpoint the exact time that you laid down in this manner, arms sore from sprawling them out across the stone. Perhaps once you stopped denying his death. But what really took your energy was your crying.

"I'm sorry, Julian! I'm sorry, I should have taken that hit, and you should be here! I'm sorry, forgive me...".

When you two were cadets, you were constantly warned about the possibility of losing your comrade. You were told, time and time again, 'don't get too attached to each other'. But hearing it in the classroom was worlds different than facing it. You two would laugh about it and drink afterwards, bantering back and forth:

"If I die, you better bring hyacinths instead of roses! I hate those spiral-ey shits!"

"In that case, you better tell me who's dating who over a bottle of fire-water! You can splash it on my tombstone!"

"Forget this old graveyard etiquette, you can chill out on mine if you need to get away from everyone else!"

Now here you were, with this banter being closer to reality.

Forget your status within the Fatui. Forget the heightened expectation of 'getting over' your friend because 'this happens everyday, it's part of our job'. Forget the potential displeasure of your Harbinger; You knew you were going to face his wrath at some point, but for now, you just needed some space to be a messy griever, consequences to be damned and faced.

"Julian... I don't wanna go back yet. I want to stay a bit more...".

"Y/N.".

Of course he'd seek you out. You tried to adhere to your usual duties, but it was obvious that you needed a bit more time to get back on par. Especially by his standards.

His hulking shadow engulfed your figure, even more so as he bent down to your level. You felt his hand patting your shoulder and looked up to meet his eyes.

"There, there. At least we both know that he died for the Tsaritsa's cause. The most honorable way to go.".

You sniffled: "But he was so young... We still count as fresh recruits, and he was always so resilient...".

"Yes, I know that. Julian was a remarkable unit, and a fine comrade...".

His hand could never remain in one place for too long, least of all if your body's concerned. You wanted to smack him when you felt it slide down to waist level, waiting for more. You were expecting this, but right on Julian's resting place? Really?

"But remember, my dear, that this isn't clerking; This is the Fatui. Great units are still at high risk, no matter how powerful they are...".

It wasn't fully here yet, but you knew where all of this was going. How could you not? You've been performing at a 'sub-par' level in comparison to your usual, you've spaced out thinking of Julian more than a few times, and though you did your best, many who came in contact with you swore up and down that eyes could never look as glossy as those of you losing your friend. All behavior unfitting for Tartaglia's prodigy.

It was very obvious that something has changed, and this will affect your Lord as well. He can't let you keep this up; It's his job as your superior to rectify this in whatever way he sees fit. A messy, moping recruit wasn't a good asset to have.

And you knew Lord Tartaglia - Childe, how fitting. If said way could bring him some sort of fun or pleasure, he was going to take it. For it to involve his sweet, little overachieving soldier? Well, the constant lip-licking was expected.

So did the wandering hand, pulling himself a little closer to you. Now your waist was almost encircled by his arm.

"I'm not saying you're bad for feeling like this. You're human. But you both knew what you signed up for. I myself has a couple of near-death experiences and lost comrades, and I'm a Harbinger.".

He could soften his tone all he wanted. You knew this talk was rehearsed. It sounded too much like his usual cold reading voice. You'd assume someone who felt your pain would be a little more empathetic, more supportive. But him? He was doing a horrible job hiding the excitement in his eyes, the prospect of 'putting you in line'. You looked down; The tent in his pants further told you what you needed to know. What did it matter if your face was still blotchy from crying?

You backed away while asking: "Lost comrades?".

"Yup. Ya know, I had this friend, Antony, who I bunked with back in our cadet days. He always sang for us at parties. Really fun guy. We also talked about our families so you can bet we were close.".

"What happened to him?".

The acting was losing whatever little effort it had: "Burned to death. I mourned too, I liked him a lot. But this is part of the job. This can be expected any day, any mission, and our friends aren't exempt by being loved.".

He made a good point. Julian wasn't going to be spared, and if his power couldn't save him, your friendship certainly wouldn't.

Celestia is cruel.

You looked up to Childe's face: "Anything you want to say?".

"Celestia is cruel. And so are you right now.".

Did you screw yourself over with the second part? You weren't intending on saying it out loud, but repression and your mind being on your friend 6 feet under will have you doing that.

He chuckled and decided that the waiting game was over. He got up on the tombstone, looming over you. Though you've stared into his empty blue eyes a lot, you never manage to shake off that mix of morbid wonder and fear at how... Soulless they were. Did Antony notice too?

"Me?".

"I'm sorry, my Lord, but yes. I'm mourning right now. Can we wait until we're in your quarters, because it's a grave...?".

You didn't have the energy to defend yourself more fiercely. Though you were still relatively young (at least by Fatui standards), your tonality belonged to a retired officer who's seen too much in one life.

You didn't defend yourself physically either. You didn't stop Childe from laying you down onto the stone, nor did you really admonish his lust on top of your friend's grave. You wanted to, but for one, he could easily overpower you, maybe even get harsher under the pretense of 'not obeying your Lord'. Paired up with your tired body, you felt helpless.

"You're correct, Y/N. Celestial is cruel. So cruel for seeing two adorable recruits, so dependent on each other... Then snatching one and leaving the other to suffer.".

He grabbed your hands to intertwine his fingers with yours. The backs of them were on the cool, grey stone, not at all like this fiery man above you. Like Schneznaya and Natlan. Ice and fire. As above, so below not in terms of temperature, but cruelty.

"And me... Well, I'm a Fatui Harbinger. Being a little cruel is guaranteed at this rate."

At last, he captured your lips with his. This kiss was unlike the few others you shared. He was the hungriest you've known. The most lustful you've seen.

What would Julian think?

You wanted to step back, even if the primal in you told you to stay. At some point, you did, only for him to grab your face.

"Now, now, comrade... You haven't been performing to your usual standard. It's my job as your Lord to end this. We can't fall behind the other legions, can we?".

He trailed off to your neck, nipping right where he knew you were most sensitive. Those whimpers were meant to be moans, only you weren't going to let them out.

"Wait, my Lord-".

There was the spot; right above your collarbone, just at the base of the neck. Did you really think he wouldn't know at this point? There was still a fading mark from last time, so he guessed it needed a renewal.

He chuckled and looked down into your eyes: "I know you way too well, Y/N. I'd say...".

He always liked cutting off his thoughts through kissing or nipping. You heeded out every word of his for years, it's basically an unconscious habit for you to grin and bear whatever he threw at you if it meant hearing the rest of his sentence.

How devoted. And thank the Tsaritsa for how delicious you were as well. Sometimes he pondered whether she was testing his mental endurance by sending him a recruit of such a lethal combo, along with more attributes befitting of an ideal partner, too.

To remove the last potential competition, putting him under the ground and far away from you, only served as an encouragement to take you.

When he broke away, he relished into the sad look in your eyes. Yes, you were going to be corrected for your poor performance and waste of time, at his hands.

"I'd say... You're right. Celestia is cruel for throwing you to me."

The tug at your collar was only the start. It was going to end with everything else right next to the grave.

You didn't know if souls were a thing, or if they were near, but deep down, you prayed to Julian to forgive the upcoming act.

[degenrcy]

deeper than love (3) ao3 link <-

he can only be so successful, you know

kinda short, not a lot of action sorry !!

warnings: incest, noncon, yeah...

you were a brave freshman, taking on high school by yourself- shig graduated a few years back. he was... supposed to be in college by now, but that's okay. everyone goes at their own pace. it was your first day!

"c-come on, shig-nii, i'm gonna be late again!" you whined, holding desperately onto the edge of the bed. you threw your head back when your brother's dick slid inside you quite forcefully- ah when was it not?

"shut the fuck uuuup, dude." he slapped a hand over your mouth, slowly thrusting in and out. god he loved the feeling, nothing topped it. no other girl felt as good as you ever did. he can't believe he's been getting away with it for so long, all the credit has to go to your parents. they shelter you enough as is, they didn't want you to end up like your failure fuck-up older brother, so they force you to bedtime and the only place you can be by yourself is at school after your loving brother drops you off everyday.

the same loving, caring, amazing brother who has been training you to be his personal free-use toy for... hm, a long, long time. he cums in your mouth before school, calls it your energy boost. he convinced you breakfast wasn't that important- just like food in general. he wanted you small and frail forever. might as well engrain an eating disorder into you too while he was at it.

he slapped your cute little butt after he shoved you out his rank, dirty car. you watched him speed off, hearing the bass from his music trail off when he got to the end of the street. you sighed, limping up the steps to class.

"today my presentation is about sexual assault." your peer stood in front of the class nervously, what a mature topic!!

"sexual assault is non-consensual sexual acts..." cue giggling from your class and a shush from your teacher. "sexual assault is usually done by someone you know- a friend, a family member, or another adult you may know."

wow, what kind of friend or family member would do something against your will?

"the sibling incest rape rates in the country are as follows,"

you furrowed your eyebrows.

you raised your hand, perfectly clipped and manicured nails, because your brother wanted you cute and clean at all times, especially if your hand was gonna be around his dick a lot.

"y/n, question?" your teacher smiled. she was glad someone was being respectful.

"so, this is bad to you?" you quirked your head. the whole class fell silent. your teacher looked bewildered. "my brother rapes me all the time, he told me it's completely normal and good!"

your teacher scrambled to the phone, the whole class still quiet.

ever since that day, you've been stuck in therapy sessions three times a week and constantly monitored. shigaraki no longer lived with the family anymore. you had to move schools, no one could forget that day and cruel students liked to make sure no one else did.

"you could fuck y/n, she let her brother hit." boys would bet on it, others were disgusted at the thought.

"i feel bad, but how could you not know that it was wrong! i was there when she told the class- she was all like-" girls avoided you.

at this point, you were more depressed about all the bullying and assumptions than the trauma you actually endured. a few years went by- it was a lonely few years. your brother surely wasn't that bad the whole time, right?

you knocked at his door- you spent very little time finding where he lived. thank god they posted the addresses of registered sex offenders online. your parents were probably getting ready to tear apart the entire neighborhood looking for you, then kill themselves when they realized where you really were.

the door creaked open, revealing an arm, and shoulder, neck, half body- hair- face.

bags under his eyes, stubble, platinum blue dyed hair. the dark eyes, piercing through you.

"y/n?" his voice was so much deeper.

"hi, big brother."

you pushed open the door, pressing the taser mom bought you into his stomach. he fell over without a sound, spazzing a bit on the floor. you jabbed it in his side for good measure, watching his body writhe.

you got to work tying up his wrists behind his back. he was still super skinny, and his place was filthy. his computer was still on, the fans of the pc whirring loudly, blue illuminating the dark corner of his room, tempting you. as a kid, you always wanted to know what he was typing so furiously away at.

he groaned, looking up at you through his bangs. his eyes flicked to the computer, then back to you.

your mouth went dry, heart heavy. he was even more disgusting than you ever perceived. this was who he was? "you're sick, shigaraki."

you crouched down to his level, his eyes quickly darted between your legs, looking at your panties through your dark tights. you smacked him hard, making him gasp out.

"you really can't help yourself, huh?" you wanted to cry.

"you really shouldn't be here, y/n. go home. mom and dad'll kill you."

you frowned, standing up again. your fingers shook, delicate. you lifted your school skirt up by the hems, his lips quivering open and eyes trailing back down to your bottom half. you revealed yourself to him, like old times.

"do you really want me to leave so soon, shig-nii?"

[velvetvexations]

tbhhh seeing how you've been treated on this site (love every trans woman before it's too late... unless she can't be used for our political stuff) makes me think that like... some trans women on this site seem to have an in group, if that makes sense? like... not to victim blame-- absolutely not-- but like

it comes off as if there's a very big in group of 'popular trans women' who will even exclude other transfemmes who don't fit a particular aesthetic/same tastes/same opinions. like they all missed the opportunity to be mean girls in highschool so they're recreating it on tumblr dot gov. i absolutely think transfemmes, esp baby ones, should get to experience feminine things they may have been denied earlier on in life-- if anything it's very sweet. however... in thinking about it, it makes me wonder if it's become this whole trickle down cycle of 'you're not a real trans woman unless you do this/like this/act like this/have this opinion/think like this'-- not in the 'oh people are being TRICKED into being TRANS' so much as a 'i feel very bad for if there's any transfemmes out there who feel like they're trying desperately and failing to commit to certain community aesthetics and opinions just for SMIDGEON of a chance that they MIGHT be acknowledged and be in the 'in crowd' and be allowed to have ANY friends with experiences like theirs-- except, if their experiences aren't exactly like the in-crowd's, they will be swiftly discarded and ignored'. like they're being put into a box they're not allowed much say of what's in it (transmascs also get this-- albeit imo it doesn't usually come from transmascs themselves). like instead of it being using community aesthetics to help find or even fuel your identity, it becomes 'i will modify myself to fit in better even if it's ingenuine to my true self'. this is especially cruel when one considers how much trans women are said over and over again to be targeted in callout posts (granted, i feel it veers into 'shaming victims' territory when ppl go off abt it now a days), so denying the ones that don't fit into a community that ironically constantly says how they don't fit in anywhere would naturally make a less-popular transfemme feel like she has nowhere to go if she were ever attacked (which, is inevitable according to these groups).

except, it's a catch-22-- because when you're popular, you have a target on your back-- this is a fact of the site no matter what identity you are. but unfortunately-- because unless you're Velvet who got there for being Right and Cool and having Good Taste (/j)-- the way you usually become a popular transfemme is hitting all the in-crowd points... including blaming transmascs for every bad thing that happens to you and suspecting them at every turn. this isn't me saying popular transfemmes have nothing to worry abt so much as i think a lot of it comes from hysteria-driven group think, among other things.

and don't get me wrong-- tumblr is transphobic as fuck. it's disgusting. but everyone not only ignores that trans masc and nonbinary blogs have also been deleted, but then turn around and seem to hold more malice for the supposed ''''tme mob''''.

i feel like all of what i described is like... a product of community hypervigilance that-- while understandable-- not only harm the transmascs around them, but even other transfemmes who don't fit the mold, as they too are now viewed as 'dangerous and will do us harm'. like the whole community is wrapped up in doing everything possible to be this... version of themselves that could 'avoid harm' and blaming the wrong sources for it. it feels like instead of taking away 'society put us in a hierarchy and that's bad' it became 'we will make our own hierarchy in which anyone who disagrees with us or is different to us is bad'. it comes off as... kinda unself aware to a point? like making everyone around you the 'problem' whenever you're challenged?

ig i was wondering what your perspective on being on tumblr as a transfemme has been like?? bc i'm not sure how accurate i am about there being a transfemme/trans woman in crowd as someone who's outside looking in. i know i rambled a lot-- and even if you disagree on some aspects, i do thank you for reading through as much as you can.

I don't think I'm a good person to ask for the typical t-fem Tumblr experience, although needless to say I agree it's not a nightmare of constant transmisogyny from every corner. The world is, generally, but yes, there is a hysteria at play.

But I can say that Velvet Nation, most especially AFAB transfolk who follow me for discourse, have always been wonderful supporters who show me a lot of genuine care and appreciation, not just as a transfem but as a narc, as a writer, as someone entering a faith outside their own cultural context, just in every possible way you can imagine, and it's all been so very nice. Obviously, positive things coming my way doesn't discount the negativity others face, but that's been most of my experience on Tumblr - in spite of some fairly grievous transmisogyny from the people demanding I read Whipping Girl.

[cassyapper]

i am so curious about your pucci thoughts...

I AM SO FUCKING SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO THIS ASK OH MY FUCKING GOD my life has been crazy lately but still i am So Sorry

okay so basically i love pucci we have to kill him. here is a list of my thoughts in no particular order

he makes me so ill like genuinely he is one of the most well written jojo characters ever and DEFINITELY the most well written villain. like holy shit. i think a lot about how weather said the evilest of people are those who think they are good and how that relates to pucci oh my GOD it makes me sick. pucci like many villains are a "ends justify the means" kinda guy like while he was cruel at many points i truly think he was jsut like, yes this is a moment of weakness but it wont matter because im going to fix it. i think aobut how he really thought he was going to save everyone. he was going to save perla. he was going to save dio. he was going to save himself. and thinking baout things from his side, like, oh my god. dio was his only friend. we the audience know that dio groomed him (not necessarily sexually but still grooming) and even though dio did seem to grow to truly care for pucci, he didnt care enough to not use him for his plan to restart the world -- but PUCCI didnt know that. im sure he had inklings and feelings like he's not NAIVE, im sure he KNEW dio was using him at SOME point, but it wouldnt change the fact dio still eventually saw him and was his friend either way. it wouldnt change the fact that he would do this one thing for his only friend, even if his only friend BECAME his friend in the first place just to make him fulfill this task. god dio and pucci's relationship is so insane i hate hate hate that people boil it down to just shipping LIKE THERE WAS RESENTMENT THERE WAS ANGER THERE WAS SO MUCH LOVE AND HALF OF IT WAS LOVE FOR WHAT THE OTHER COULD DO FOR HIM INSTEAD OF JUST HIM HIMSELF . LIKE FUCK'S SAKE im sick of ppl putting a romantic spin on everything and YES this is half me being aromatnic but also COME ON. and that's not even getting into the fact dio and pucci's relationship is supposed to parallel jolyne and jotaro's/jolyne and jonathan's. but anyway

god he loved his sister so much man it makes me sick he jsut wanted her safe man. after everything....i choose to believe his final thoughts were of perla. it's why he was begging for everything he did to have meant SOMETHING -- please let if have meant perla got a good life in whatever universe the world will end up in. i like to believe she did. he won't be there to see it. oh god he wont be there ot see it. fuck. maybe that was for the best in his mind anyway

his drama and tragedy aside he's also the funniest guy in the entire world. why the hell is a catholic priest wearing gucci. well i guess that answers the question but still. he is so fucking funny he is not even subtle about it he is LITERALLY like EOUGH DONT TOUCH MY EXPENSIVE DESIGNER PANTS and then he kicks a cop to his death for it. he's so fucking funny i love him so much. i love that whitesnake is independent enough to have its own personality and he and pucci get into spats sometimes OS FUCKING FUNNY. MFW I ARGUE WITH MY OWN SOUL.

also my disdain for shipping culture aside i cannot deny that pucci is a homophobic homosexual. he and jotaro totally banged a couple times and awkwardly called it off when pucci first sees jotaro's birthmark and he's like oh no. SO FUCKING FUNNY

ugh sorry i jsut want to go back to this point he's so smart he's so Aware of how people work and connect he's always had a fine sense for it (do you believe in gravity...) OUGH like there's no WAY HE DIDN'T KNOW DIO WAS USING HIM BUT HE STILL LOVED DIO AND I THINK BEYOND THAT. I THINK HE TRUY BELIEVED WHAT DIO WAS SAYING. I THINK HE TRULY BELIEVED OKAY EVEN IF DIO HAS HIS OWN MOTIVES HERE, THIS END IS JSUT. SO I WILL KEEP FOLLWOING ALONG. LIKE. I. i truly think he thought this would save everyone, especially perla. ohuogh my god PUCCIIIIIIIIIIIII

in short, he makes me sick we have to kill him. i like him a lot

[pullhisteeth]

Hi! I saw your "Wise Words" fic and got so excited because it was inspired by one of my favorite songs by miss blondie herself 🤣 And I loved your writing so much I thought I could request for a fic if that's okay 🥹

So the "Vigilante Shit" performance in the Eras Tour has been stuck on my mind for AGES (and for good reason) and I was thinking...what if reader is a dancer and is besties with Eddie, and he sees her perform like THAT for the first time...I wonder how he would react and keep his shit together lmaooo

Can't wait to read whatever masterpiece you come up with! Ahhh thank you and ilysm ❤️

oh this one was lethal. checked my notifs at like 10pm and bam! I was off!!! and now it’s like 2am lol. I loved writing this - I took some creative liberties because I do not know a damn thing about dance but I hope it’s okay! thank you for the request (and your lovely kind words) ♡

contains fem!reader, dancer!reader, best friend!Eddie, best friends to lovers, bad knowledge of dance (it shows), fluff. 3k-ish

-

The heat beneath your cheeks can’t be kept at bay. You’re all flushed, palms clammy the way they used to get before recitals.

It has been years since stage fright could even try to get the better of you. Too many hours spent in front of crowds - whether they be three people small, parents and siblings crammed into your living room, or hundreds big, it doesn't matter to you anymore. You know this is all there is for you, moving across a stage like you own it.

Today is an exception. You’re standing - hiding - behind the curtain, nose inches from the deep blue velvet, right on cue but without your guts or your confidence. There’s a gaping hollowness there instead. You’re nervous.

It’s not like nerves have completely escaped you before now. On stage you’re stoic, but in life you’re… Less than self-assured. Especially when it comes to boys, or rather one boy in particular.

“Hey,” someone whispers to your left, “you’re up in five.”

Seconds. She means five seconds. Soon, the curtain will lift, and you’ll be released into the open arms of cheering onlookers, and you’ll have to try your hardest not to look for him among them.

You hear the familiar rattle of the rope mechanism somewhere distant, the lowering sandbag and the gear up high, and then the light descends at your feet. The fluorescence is blinding as the curtain lifts above your face, but this is easy. Comparatively, holding yourself together here, on this stage, is child’s play. Holding yourself together in front of him? Not so much.

-

“I thought you’d be happy!”

Eddie stands at the foot of your bed with his hands on his hips. You’re recoiling, knees up at your chin, at the headboard, whinging something cruel about this surprise he’s been keeping from you.

“I am, it’s just-”

“What are you hiding from me?” he asks, smiling, coy like he knows already.

He doesn’t. If it goes your way, he never will.

“Nothing!” you exclaim, too enthusiastically. “Nothing, I just…”

“Just what?” He’s getting impatient; he’s started pacing again.

“It’s nothing, Eds. I am happy. I promise.”

“Good,” he says, grinning. It’s a smile you love dearly, and if this is something that encourages it, so be it. “Nance is coming, too. We got four tickets, so Rob and Steve are gonna try and get the night off.”

Before you can protest he’s throwing himself onto your bed, chest-first, his arms winding around your calves and squeezing a shriek out of you.

“I’m so excited,” he tells you, muffled, face stuffed into the comforter by your feet. “How’ve we been friends all this time’n I’ve never seen you dance?”

“You have,” you respond, absentmindedly threading your fingers through his hair, nails gentle on his scalp. You feel him relax into your mattress and you smile.

“The club doesn’t count,” he says, turning onto his cheek to look up at you. “I don’t even know what kinda dancing it is.”

“You bought a ticket,” you giggle, “surely you saw the name?”

“Yeah,” he says, a little confused, “but what the fuck is chair dancing?”

-

Before Eddie even makes it inside the club, he knows he’s sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Nance,” he whispers, bending ever so slightly so he’s closer to her ear, “where the fuck are we?”

“Shut up,” she says, laughing her breezy laugh and lifting her shoulder to brush him off playfully.

He’s out of his depth, surrounded by a strange concoction of people - plenty of gaggles of young women, sashes reading bride to be or birthday girl, as well as innocuous older men, distinguished in their suits and pressed shirts, speaking to each other in hushed tones.

Where the fuck is he?

The line gets shorter, and inside the door, once they’re past the lacklustre bouncers, Nancy hands their tickets over and Robin takes her by the arm, giggling with her as they descend the stairs.

Eddie eyes the posters along the walls - comedy shows, open mics, oddly themed club nights - but doesn’t find what he’s looking for.

The four of them emerge into a dimly lit room, where small tables hold even smaller lamps and are surrounded by leather chairs. He feels a firm hand on his shoulder and turns to see Steve looking at Nancy and Robin.

“Okay, girls, find us a seat, me’n Eddie’ll get us drinks.”

Eddie follows him wordlessly through to the bar, where a cheerful - and very pretty - woman takes their order from Steve, who turns to him as she wanders off.

“Hey,” he murmurs, dipping closer, “what’s up with you?”

Eddie groans and holds his head in both hands, elbows on the bar. “I don’t know,” he says into his palms.

Steve’s hand is back on his shoulder, firm again, grounding. “She’s great, you know.”

Eddie twists to peek at him. “You’ve seen her before?”

“Only practising. I was over at their apartment and she was in the living room.”

Eddie groans again, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I feel… Nervous, for some reason.”

Beside him, Steve laughs, boisterous and accompanied by a squeeze at his shoulder.

“You should be,” he tells him, “she’s hot shit, Munson. Better be careful, or she’ll be gone before you can catch her.”

-

The music is your favourite part of dancing.

The dancing itself is fun, of course, but it’s nothing without the bass beneath your feet, the smooth curves of sound that seem to run straight through you like a livewire. You like all of it: jazz, rock, country, even metal, when Eddie’s playing it. But there’s something about that sultry kind of pop, the darkness and the sharpness, that turns you into some type of marionette, moving almost without thinking to the sound of gutsy women.

That’s doing yourself a disservice, of course; you’re a good dancer. You’re an excellent dancer. Eddie’s just never seen it before, and suddenly you’re quite sure you’re about to trip over your own feet.

The thrumming bassline distracts you for a flash, and you look over at the other dancers. You move seamlessly between one another, bare legs weaving and feet precise. Your hands lift in the air and run down your body, feeling the intricate beading of the handmade bodice gifted to you by the director. Every nerve is on fire, hyper-responsive and humming with energy. You flip your hair, bend at the hips, move your mouth in time with the lyrics. 

Your hand curls around the cold metal of the chair at the front of the stage, and as you lift your leg, planting a heel firmly on the seat, you forget there’s anyone watching, let alone him.

-

Eddie’s knee stopped bouncing the moment that the curtain shifted.

He loves music, but while you’ve made him listen to his fair share of pop, he’s never heard anything like this. It’s darker than the other stuff. Sexier, even.

His mind empties as the bass kicks in and the curtain hits its peak. There’s a line of dancers, each one beautiful and sparkling under the spotlights, but once his eyes find you there may as well be no one else in the room.

He knows what it’s like to be on a stage - the lights are too bright, the act of performing too consuming; trying to spot someone in a crowd is almost futile. And yet, for the first time in his life, he feels that insatiable urge to be noticed. For you to look over, meet his eye, and shoot him a wink or smile at him the way you do when he picks you up from work.

The way you move up there is unlike anything he has ever seen before. He knows you’ve been dancing your whole life, and when you’re out with friends you still move effortlessly, often emboldened by liquid courage and a good song, but even his wildest dreams - of which there have been many - could not have prepared him for this.

Your body moves with its curves, swaying and bending in a way that seems so natural on you. There’s a confidence he’s rarely seen before, and it’s electrifying, lighting him up from the inside.

“Isn’t she amazing?!” Nancy whispers beside him.

“Yeah,” he breathes, eyes tied to you. Every move you make is slow, methodical, intentional. You lift your legs, tilt your hips, curl your arm upwards like you’re made of water, and Eddie is thirsty.

He feels the warmth of Steve’s chest pressing into his shoulder. “Dude,” he whispers in Eddie’s ear, “shut your mouth. Gonna catch flies or something.”

-

Three songs isn’t many, but holding your own body weight the way you have to takes its toll, and the oppressive warmth of the dressing rooms only make you sweatier. So you race through your post-show routine, saying quick goodbyes to your friends and hanging the bodice carefully on the hanger with your nametag. On quick but tired feet you race through the dimly lit corridors, thankful for the simplicity of your sneakers, in search of the fire escape and some fresh air.

You know he’ll be out here. Part of you longs to linger inside, wait it out until you think he might have left with the rest of them, but you know it’s no use. He’d wait for you all night if you made him, and you’re not in the business of making Eddie Munson wait.

With your bag slung over one shoulder, you push firmly on the bar across the fire door and emerge into the dark alley, the air crisp - just the way you like it. The smell of pot and cigarette smoke drifts and you hear the familiar hum of late-night conversation from around the corner, so you close the door softly and follow it.

As you round the front of the small building, you’re met by thick, strong arms around your middle, lifting you into the air with a force you couldn’t fight even before a full dance routine. You squeal, your feet kicking up behind you, finding the shoulders of your friendly attacker.

“Here she is!” Steve booms, his voice a little muffled by your stomach.

“Steve,” you pant, grinning too wide to make the v sound properly, “let me down.”

He gives you one last squeeze and relents, lowering you slowly until your feet hit solid ground. You’re still grinning and he is, too, beaming at you so wide you can hardly bear it.

“You did good, kid,” he tells you, foregoing his boisterous grip around your waist for a gentle squeeze to your bicep.

“Thanks,” you breathe, eyes drifting as Robin and Nancy weave between the two of you and descend, fawning over you, giggling like children.

“You were so good!”

“Why’d you never tell us you could do that?”

“And that suit, oh my god-”

“Y’know the redhead? Do you think you could maybe-”

“Robin, stop it-”

“What?! She was hot! I'm only asking.”

“Hey,” Nance suddenly hisses, smiling something cruel and cunning, “someone else wants to congratulate you.”

She looks quickly over her left shoulder and you follow her eye line, finding Eddie standing a few feet away with his back to the wall and a cigarette at his mouth.

“We’re gonna head over there,” she tells you, nodding at a bar across the street. “Come find us, yeah?”

They saunter away, looking smug as ever, arms looped as they cross the street. You watch them go until you feel the phantom of someone behind you. It comes with the distinct scent of smoke, and underneath it you catch the bright, fresh smell of his washing powder.

“Hi,” you whisper as you turn to him. He looms over you a little, his head blocking the streetlamp so he looks like a haloed angel.

“Hey,” he says and you’re taken aback, because there’s a waver there. Something like nerves, except this is Eddie, and Eddie doesn’t get nervous. You do enough of that for the both of you. “You, uh… You were really good.”

“Thanks,” you say, smiling.

“I mean it,” he says, the words coming out all together like he might have stopped himself if he’d taken too long. “So good. I had no idea you… I didn’t know you could dance like that.”

“It makes me a bit nervous, I guess.”

“It shouldn’t,” he says without a beat. “You looked amazing.”

You smile at him, a little lost in this sea of nice words. Standing on the sidewalk outside a dingy dance club, under the gaze of your lovely best friend, what are you supposed to say?

“I saw you,” you tell him, voice quiet.

“Huh?”

“I was obviously concentrating, it was just a second, but you looked… Entertained.”

He looks down at his shoes, at where the toes of his boots meet your sneakers, and scratches the back of his neck. You dip your head down slightly to catch him forcing down a smile.

“It’s okay,” you laugh, “it’s kinda the point.”

“I know,” he says, laughing too, though it’s a nervous, unsure sound. “I know, I just…”

He can’t meet your eye. It’s worrying you, pulling your gut apart to make space for that black hole of panic. You stand back up straight and pull your bag up further onto your shoulder.

“I, uh, they went over there,” you tell him coldly. He looks up at you, still stooped a little like he’s being told off. “I’m gonna go meet them, um… You coming?”

You’re backing away on uncertain feet, suddenly acutely aware of the aches buried deep within your muscles and the burn of the soles of your feet.

“Wait,” he says, reaching out to wrap his fingers around your arms. You stop moving but look away, too filled with those wretched nerves to face him.

“Wait a second, I just…” He’s panting, stumbling, and you have no idea why. “I can’t… Fuck, sweets, I need to-”

“Eddie,” you snap, patience wearing thin.

He looks at you again, and you see it: the wavering of nerves in his eyes, though they’re hiding from you in the dark, dissipates into something deeper. Some miniscule movement of muscle in his face tells you everything, and yet you hang onto every word regardless.

“I lost my shit when you came out from behind that curtain,” he begins, a hand on each of your bent arms now, shifting lower to cradle your elbows. “I couldn’t… It was like my head went empty, except all that was bouncing around in there was this, like… Bouncy ball of regret.”

You can’t help but giggle. This fucking boy.

“I know, I know,” he says, smiling again, slowly stitching the rip in your anxious gut back together, “but it’s true, I can’t… I can’t believe I left it this long, and I can’t fucking believe it took me seeing you like that to get it together, I… I feel like a fucking teenager. But I just… I need you to know you looked so fucking hot up there.”

He’s as close as he can be without crashing into you. His hands are drifting and returning, like he’s restraining himself, but he has managed to walk you backwards so you’re sandwiched between his body and the wall.

“I-” you begin, though you’re the one with the empty head now and you have no intention of finishing your sentence. 

“You can head over there,” he says, tilting his head just so towards the bar, “no questions asked. And I’ll go home and leave you alone for a while, if that’s what you want. I just…” He lets his left hand leave your arm finally, and you let out a weak breath. He hovers over your hip, not touching but definitely there.

You hear him, but you don’t move, aside from letting your arm straighten so your bag can drop to the floor. There are people hovering around, loitering after the show, but you couldn’t care less, because Eddie’s knee is knocking yours and his hand has finally landed on your hip and his mouth is so close to your ear you could die.

“Eddie,” you breathe.

“Yeah, sweets?”

Looking down at you like this, Eddie doesn’t know how he’s kept his composure all these years. He really did feel quite stupid for being moved to act by seeing you on stage like that, but now that he’s this close, so close he could kiss you, he’s not feeling too bothered anymore. You’re looking back at him with wide eyes and your mouth’s in a slight pout and, god, maybe he could kiss you after all.

You crane your neck and lift up on tiptoes until your nose bumps his. You feel him smile and you smile back, until his lips brush yours and you’re knocked silly.

This feels a lot like dancing. Less like the dancing you do now; more like the dancing you did when you were younger, the more traditional kind shared between two people. A duet of movement that, once perfected, feels completely natural.

You’re no traditionalist, but you’re happy to let Eddie lead this one.

When he finally gives in and bridges the gap you whimper, because his knee is settled between both of yours and his hands are spread wide across either side of your hips, and you feel just as warm as you had running through the corridors. There’s the same sense of relief, though, that you’d felt opening that door.

He doesn’t linger, pulling back after only a few seconds.

“Thanks,” you say. He laughs.

“What, for that?”

“No,” you respond, smiling again. It won’t go away; maybe you’re stuck with it. You think about your grandfather and how he told you that if the wind changed, you’d be stuck making that face forever. “For coming to see me.”

He leans back in and kisses you again, more playful this time, firm at first and then dotting them like bursting stars around your mouth.

“You’re amazing,” he says. “So amazing.”

“So you’ll come see me again?”

“Every night, if you’ll have me.”

-

[samiamdandles]

The Reminders

Summary: Collei being reminded of Dottore and having a major mental freakout, reader tries their best to comfort her. Word Count: 1k Warnings: Angst(?) Hurt/Comfort, Mention of S H, Extremely Traumatized Collei, Female reader, Platonic, Reader isnt good at comforting.

Authors note: just a small one shot, was thinking about collei sm </3 hopefully this Angst is ok its my first one thats kinda angsty.

That distinct smell of copper and the sterile smell of hospitals insulted Collei’s nose. It hit her while she was alone, cleaning the statue of seven, she froze, looking around. Sometimes, for no reason, her mind liked to play cruel tricks on her, forcing her to remember the smell of him. Seeing the same shade of blue his hair was, his smell, his mannerisms she would see in other people, it made her shake. No, she couldn’t let this get to her, she had to prove that she was capable.she hadn’t thought about him at all for years, now suddenly this and the few times this month? No, she had to prove she was over it, over him, and was a capable forest ranger.  It still didn't stop her from shaking uncontrollably, not realizing how her heart rate had increased significantly.  Her mind starting to wander as she finished her task, rushing to head home when she was done. Tighnari caught her on the way, calling out to her, “Collei? Are you okay? C’mere, let me take care of you.” she usually would’ve appreciated it, but the way he said it just reminded her so much of him. “Just leave me alone. You don’t fucking help anyways.” she yelled out, breaking out into a jog. Tighnari was left there, mouth wide open from the interaction.

Day three. Three days of Collei not eating, and refusing to leave her house. You were sat outside her house, a tray of food and a cup of water next to you. “Collei, I am begging you to please please eat. I’m letting you know now that i will come in by force if you don't eat by tonight.” you waited to hear something, anything, but nothing. The pit in your stomach kept getting worse day by day.  You never left your spot outside her house unless absolutely needed, only when Tighnari had begged you to do something. As the sun started to set, you made your way back to Collei’s after Tighnari had begged you to help with some work, a soft knock at her door and a fresh tray of food for her ready. “Collei, if you don't answer me I am coming in, love.” you tried to be gentle about it, waiting for a response. A few long moments before you hear her lock click and her door open ajar. “Come in.” she whispered, her voice sounded so meek. You entered slowly, taking in the state of her home, and her when you finally saw her. Her eyebags, the fidgeting, the tear stains and the way she seemed so skinny and frail. “Collei..” she couldn't look you in the eyes, sitting back down on her bed. “He just won't leave.” she croaked, she brought her knees up to her chest, rocking herself. Your heart shattered, realizing what was going on, you hated seeing her in this state. She was your best friend, someone you loved and you weren't even sure what to do. “I’m going to sit by you if that's okay.” you figured it would be best to announce your movements giving her current state, once you heard no protest, you set the tray on the bedside table and sat on her bed, keeping distance. You would try to get her to eat later tonight.

You figured she just needed someone there physically so you would gladly take that role. “I’m here for you.” is all you said, glancing over at her. Collei buried her face into her knees, she wasn’t sure why, but hearing those words, especially from you just made her feel a certain way. She started to sob uncontrollably, gripping herself tighter. “I miss him at the same time. Am I broken? Why? I know I shouldn't.” She babbled, you hushed her, you wanted to hug her and hold her, but you couldn’t. You both sat there for a few beats, listening to her choked sobs. As you opened your mouth to say something, Collei turned to you, her arms stretched out. “I just- i wanted to forget but i wanted to be close to him again- and i didnt- “  that’s when you realized why she was showing you her arms. You gasped lightly, quickly getting up to go get tighnari. “I’ll be back love, let me get Tighnari.” “No!” she yelled, she surprised even herself with how abrupt she was. “Please.. Just.. stay with me for a while?” you stared at her, debating and chewing on your lip. You examined her arms, after rummaging around and finding spare bandages you patched her up, deeming it okay to get tighnari after you sat with her. “Can you please eat something? Even just half a pita pocket would make me happy.” you pleaded, picking up a pita pocket, urging her.  She begrudgingly complied, taking the pita pocket from you and taking small bites.

“Thank you.” you watched her as she ate, she just stared off into space as she ate, but she did end up eating an entire pita pocket. That entire night was just you two sitting in silence, once in a while interrupted with Collei telling you about her thought process, or stuff that worried her. It helped having you there, you helped calm her down, she felt safe. A few hours into the night, you both had made yourselves comfortable, you at her table reading your novel while Collei laid in her bed, toying with a plushie she owned. “Do.. do you want to sleep with me?” she stared at you expectantly, fidgeting and chewing on her lip as she awaited your answer. You were taken back, sure you two were best friends but you had never slept over with her before. “Sure.” She moved over, watching your every move as you got into her bed, still trying to be mindful of her and her space.  The two of you laid there, staring at each other in silence. It was for sure awkward, but Collei had never felt more at peace, the thoughts of him disappeared completely, and her heart stilled. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight Collei, please remember to apologize to Tighnari in the morning.” is all you had sad before the two of you eventually succumbed to sleep. The next morning you awoke to Collei nestled against you, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

[slotumn]

Thoughts and ponderings on how to make the Golden Deer eviler™ and more involved in Fódlan politics and the war and why that would be good for the worldbuilding (note: GD are my faves)

First and most obvious imo: war profiteering. It would help establish their character as mercantilists who can be just as cruel as others even without direct bloodshed, if they sold supplies and weapons to both Adrestia and Faerghus over the five years and profitted off said bloodshed.

Extension of the above: price gouging. Oh your country had bad harvests this year? That's so sad. So, how much are you willing to pay to make sure your troops don't starve?

More extension of the above: loan shark shit. Especially cruel if Adrestians and Faerghans are forced to borrow from a Leicesterian cartel just so they can buy stuff from... another Leicesterian cartel.

Possibly the final boss of "evil shit to sell during a war": drugs. The frontlines are said to have been in a stalemate for a while, meaning the soldiers are just stuck there up north without making much progress, for a couple years. That must be painful both physically and psychologically. Thankfully, your good friends from the Alliance have juuuust the thing to make you forget the painful reality! Ever heard of opium?

If that's not enough action, then how about: Leicester doing various operations to keep the conflict going and ensure that it can't end, either by compromise or surrender. Sabotage potential deals, do false flag operations, anything to make sure the Kingdom and Empire both fight until the last soldier, because that way they won't have any left to attack the Alliance with.

There must be desperate people escaping Kingdom and Empire and coming to the Alliance for various reasons. But it's difficult to feed all these new mouths, not to mention that it might aggro the Empire if they accept too many people from Faerghus or defectors from Adrestia. What's Leicester to do? Use them as slave labor in some remote place like the Goneril mines, obviously. They've trafficked Almyrans, they'll gladly do it to Adrestians and Faerghans, too.

Aside from making Leicester more involved in the politics, I think this is a good way to justify and set up a true three-way conflict instead of Kingdom vs Empire feat Alliance.

For the Empire, it gives a good reason for them to go on an active military campaign against Leicester (as in CF) before heading to crush the Kingdom. "Evil underhanded motherfuckers are trying to destroy us by selling us drugs and sabotaging our operations, we can't let that stand for the future of Fodlan" + stomp on them to make sure they don't try any funny business in the future.

For the Kingdom, well... I think it makes it somewhat harder to justify the Derdriu rescue part in AM*, but I do think it gives more justification to why they're totally unwilling to cooperate with the Alliance at Gronder, even aside from Dimitri being feral. Like from their POV, tf you mean "what does it achieve," you put us in debt and destroyed our economy and now you're trying to imply we should team up?

(*If it's presented the same as in canon, I think it can still work if it's framed slightly differently, like Leicester growing desperate enough to grovel for help from the same faction they were previously trying to sabotage and Dimitri decides to do it for the greater good and the future of Fódlan instead of holding a grudge)

Also a good way to fuel tension between Church and Alliance in VW even though they work together; Alliance uses the fact they've got the money to basically blackmail Church into giving them legitimacy for propaganda purposes, Church thinks Alliance is dangerous and unfaithful, partially because they've got sticks up their ass but also because they are, in fact, kinda fucked up. (And Byleth is just stuck mediating between the two rip)

Most of all, this is my personal taste but I like that it makes Fódlan even bleaker than it already is. Like if you take a step back and just look at the factions as nations instead of focusing on the virtues of the individual leaders, it's: superiority complex irredentist imperialists vs inflexible outdated zealots vs greedy backstabbing opportunists, feat. religious institution that has long since grown corrupt and complacent. If you are a random person (probably commoner) in Fódlan who does not know the leaders personally, war would look pretty bleak, especially the longer it goes on. It would look like no matter which faction wins, the average person would lose.

And I think that would make it all the more impactful when Byleth appears and ends the war, especially in SS. The chosen one and savior isn't a noble raised to lord (lol) over others, it's someone raised as a commoner* doing the dirty work (fighting and killing) for others. When they get to lead and/or the leaders listen to them, something finally changes. I have issues with how Byleth was handled as a character in base Houses (even though I grew to like them eventually), but I still think their existence and role is nice symbolically and thematically.

(*You can argue that Byleth isn't a "regular commoner" considering the Crest + their heritage, but like, they don't know about the Crest until they've lived ~20 years as a merc and in some routes they don't even fully learn about the heritage so for all practical purposes they lived and grew up as a commoner)

Think I went on a bit of a tangent but the point is: let the Golden Deer and Leicester be evil, I think it would have been really fun if they destroyed the other two countries' economies with the power of money and friendship* then had a feast afterwards like a bunch of psychopaths (*among themselves I mean, not friendship with the other factions).