#maybe hating him is an outlet for something. I don't know.

[inc0mple]

🗝️ ”Keys Are People, Too” 100 Chapter Q&A ⭐️ (ongoing!)

(Last edit: 12/20 10:40 CST)

Hi! :) If y’all don’t know me my name is Inco (it’s not but shh) and I write a fanfiction for Cinderella Boy called Keys Are People, Too. It’s not finished, it’s ongoing and rapidly approaching 100 chapters XD (yes we are like four chapters away but shh rounding) (I PROMISE WE’RE ALMOST TO THE LAST ACT). So because of an ask from @isitamia and, we’ll say the 100 chapter milestone… tada Q&A??

I don’t know how many people are going to engage with this but that’s totally okay :) I love ranting about stuff and I’ve put a lot of thought into this story, so it would be cool to have an outlet to answer some questions where they don’t get forgotten in AO3 comments. And if you guys also have general questions about writing advice/things like that, I am not an expert but I do also like talking about stories.

So please ask! I’m not planning to close this at any specific time—I was thinking y’all could comment questions under this post or via reblogs (I might miss them in reblogs though) and I will edit this post to answer them, and also reply to you so you know your question is answered. This might get like 10 notes and that’s fine haha (I have zero idea how many people regularly read my story beyond the ones who leave comments), but if there are a lot of questions I’ll try to categorize them. Really just a place to drop info for fun :)

Q&A below ⬇️

I tried to make it organized. It's... kind of organized. Kind of.

Plot/Characters

"What key archetype isn't one of the siblings? Do we get to know their archetypes soon?" asked by @spookieee28 12/20

I'm not gonna say the archetypes at this point in time because it risks spoilers. You will find out by the end of the story and hopefully by that points all of the archetypes should be relatively clear. Some have already been mentioned like the chapter "Heralds and Thieves" for Jade and Cooper, I think (?) Cora has been mentioned as the Innocent archetype, etcetera.

"Which character do you struggle writing the most and which feels easier for you, if you have preferences?" asked by @isitamia 12/20

"Do you ever struggle with keeping Cinderella Boy's canon characters in character?" asked by @isitamia 12/20

I'll answer both of these together. Chase is pretty easy for me because I just channel chaotic gremlin energy and it seems to work. Buddy is OKAY although I am struggling right now making him vulnerable while still retaining him Buddy-ish-ness if that makes sense? Deacon is just Deacon... I am sorry, I feel like I don't really do anything to characterize him, he's just there as a sounding board XD I will say- I daydream situations for CB ALL THE TIME which gives me a lot of comfortability with the canon characters and considering what they would do and say and how they would react. I do have a little bit of difficulty characterizing the human keys so I just kinda went like "oh WELL that's because, UUHHHH, the key siblings don't match the keys exactly! That's it that's the answer!" because I felt like Silver wasn't quite Silver-ish and stuff. As for struggling writing the most I have two main answers.

BRONTE. For those who maybe haven't read this but are scrolling through it anyway, or aren't there yet, Bronte is the "human" version of Bronze and I kinda accidentally eliminated him from the story until like... the 80th chapte ror something like that. I had a lot of trouble actually writing his dialogue and scenes with Chase. It just did not have Bronze's snarky energy. So that was tough and I feel bad because I really feel like I did not do him justice :c

DUKE RAVENELL!!!!!! Ravenell hates me. He gives me so much trouble primarily because I just plunked him in at the beginning and didn't give him a real personality beyond a few vague notions. I've really had to sculpt his character as I went and it's especially difficult because Ravenell is intended to do a lot of plot device-ing. He perpetuates a lot of themes in the story and he is a HUGE character foil to Chase, because he often reflects the opposite of Chase's (and Idonea's) values and intentions. I want him to be morally grey and I am constantly fighting a BATTLE with this man to make sure he isn't too likeable or too hateable. I posted on Tumblr like a week ago really just asking for a diagnostic and the response made my day because people are all OVER the place about this man, some people love him, some will never forgive him, some are like "he's alright but there's something off about him and I can't help but distrust him" and others are like "I know he keeps making mistakes but I can't help but trust him" and I LOVE IT. Fortunately I think he's finally in a place perception-wise where I want him. I want the confusion. So badly. Only now I have to continue to fight this stupid tug-o'-war to keep him properly dividing until the end of the story XD

Behind the scenes

"How did you come up with the plot for KAPT? Was it just a little thought that popped up in your head one day, or did you have like inspiration or something?" asked by @xcitrix 12/20

"Did you have an idea for how you wanted the story to end when you first started writing or did you come up with more ideas while working on it?" asked by @lapileaf 12/20

I'mma answer both of these (and any others if they are asked) in kinda the same go if that's alright. In August I was wanting to write some fanfiction for CB, and one idea rotating in my head was, what if Chase went into a nonfiction book? Like he thought it the most effective way to study for a history project, or he saw a mention of Ex Libris, or something. So, completely directionless, I drabbled out the first chapter of KAPT where they find the book in the museum and... adopt it. And then it sat there in my Google Docs for like two weeks while I worked on a different fanfiction, Violets and Chains. I tried to return to it a little bit and got through the first anthology chapter where they're in the Chartesia battle, but that too did not have a plot behind it, I was like "myeh... trebuchets... uh... and now there's a guy... oh maybe they're PRISONERS..." And then brain did not work and I gave up. Eventually got myself together, BS-ed the rest of the scene, and then sat down and essentially ranted to myself about potential ideas until I figured out the plot.

More ideas have kept cropping up as I've worked on it. There are certain puzzle pieces that are foreshadowed in even teh first ten chapters that I didn't even mean to foreshadow because I hadn't thought of the yet - the plot was generally mapped out but has defintely been refined and added to as time goes on. Eventually you get into the flow of a story and everything just starts clicking into place, like you yourself are theorizing about an external work. Keep in mind that because I am publishing it as I write each chapter, KAPT is a first draft, and I have to hatch out plot points and main parts of the story as I write and make my best effort to recover any loose threads or things like that. It's a fun exercise!

"Do you plan to stick to the story you have already till the end or is there a possiblity you'll have to change some things if we get to know more about canon Ex Libris/Buddy lore while it's still ongoing?" asked by @iwikpines 12/20

There are some new bits of information that are kinda iffy for KAPT, but ultimately because KAPT takes place inside a book most of the Buddy/Ex Libris lore is not applicable. Regarding Buddy's situation I am going to go ahead like I was planning to originally, and I'll add a disclaimer when time permits. I don't think either way throws a wrench in the plans too much but I would rather be confident in the themes I've already set up as opposed to trying to hastily recover new lore in the last third of the story, if that makes sense.

"How did you come up with your ocs? I know some, like Jaime, come from another original story of yours ... but what about characters like Ravenell, Galeus, and Rose? What inspired you? How did you decide their personaltiy, their struggles? Did you take inspiration from yourself for anyone, similar to how Punko took inspiration from herself for Chase? Do you follow any specific process to come up with ocs, like follow a list, scheme, or coming up with hypothetical scneraios?" asked by @isitamia 12/20

A lot of the characters are cameos from a passion project I've been working on for years called IFI (no I will not tell you what it stands for) - Jaime and emma are from there, as well as several others including Alexei, Nishan, Mattheo, Kelitia, Indie (the Marchioness), King Aarius, and King Olivyn. So those are just plunked in and then Jaime decided to become part of the plot. As for the other original characters made specifically for KAPT, they just kinda got plopped in for one reason or another (I wanted Rose to connect to the Chartesia lore, Ravenell to have a foil for Chase, and Galeus because, well, there had to be a king) and then I slowly worked to build connections, themes, and character. Often times I don't specifically sit down and think "this character will be this way", it just emerges naturally from their dialogue, like I'm chiseling something out that was already in the stone like an archeologist, as opposed to carving my own new sculpture. I've always written that way and it makes it difficult when I am required to add structure to my writing or explain why I do things the way I do. I will say it is all VERY inspired from my own life and beliefs; Rose exists as a confidante in the story, and many of her more preachy dialogue pieces are things I'm getting out of my system. So yeah, not really a lot of structure to it, they just appear... and I figure them out as I go... most of my characters are in some way facets of myself or the way I percieve life. As I get more experienced with writing I'm sure I'll be more intentional with them, but for now, they are Athena and I am Zeus.

"How do you post daily" (kind of) asked by @isitamia 12/20

To give an actual answer for this because I know it's a lot to post a 2-4k chapter PER DAY - I am a student and have a LOT of downtime in class where I can't really do anything but write. That is how. Also, I have taught myself to be a prolific writer because that is the thing in my life I can always rely on when other things are unstable.

"How did you extend the story so far? I love the plot and it's kinda insane how you were able to develop it so much, at this point it's a full novel and I kinda live for it LOL. Also how long would you consider one act?" asked by @shyve3 12/20

Two parts to this question, I will answer them both;

I didn't mean to. I am really bad about being concise; I can't. When I write and get passionate about a story there's so much I want to stay and I can rarely fit it into what most people consider a pallatable length. I just get going and... idk... unstoppable force or something lol. And yes KAPT is at least the length of a typical trilogy XD ITS BEEN FIVE MONTHS

Regarding the act question, I ORIGINALLY said KAPT would be three acts, with the first ending when Chase goes down into Rose's "tomb" for the first time, the second ending with the Bronte part, and the third being the final one. It is actually more like four now, with the "second" act split into two at the masquerade ball. We are so close to being onto the actual final act, which should be a 4th of the total fic, so we have maybe 30 chapters left (?) (we'll see lol)

I don't have a specific length, it's just the way the story tends to ebb and flow if that makes sense?

General stuff

"Do you have any advice as a writer?" asked by @iwikpines 12/20

I AM SO BAD ABOUT THIS because I really do just go type type type and words appear. I know there's more to it than that but I've spent a lot of time writing and not a lot of time learning how to write so I have the experience without the actual education behind it. Write what you care about :) I mean NO DUH but like - your best stories will come from the heart. You will find prolificness (is that a word?) in PASSION. If I didn't care about Cinderella Boy or the themes I'm trying to communicate in KAPT would I spent my days writing a chapter a day ABSOLUTELY FRIGGIN NOT I'd be writing a different story. So yeah - write what you love and your audience will find you. What the world needs is a buncha people doing what they love really well because it's what they care about. Also, I didn't include your full comment here, but I am excited to read your fanfiction! <3 Please post it on Tumblr when you also post it elsewhere!

[hd-erised]

We are over halfway through @hd-erised—isn't that exciting? It's been another fantastic week filled with art and fic and, as always, we hope you've been enjoying the fabulous submissions!

We hope you'll  take a moment to check out anything you might have missed this week, and don't forget to check our Week 1 and Week 2 round-ups for even more goodies. And, of course, please don't forget to leave a comment for our lovely artists and writers who make this fest the incredible experience that it is!! <3

Art:

Unemployed and On Guard for @makeitp1nk [T]

No One but Me for justlikewriting [M]

Fic:

Second Chance Resort for @elizah321[E, ~42,800]

A holiday forced on him by his friends after the latest in a long string of failed relationships might be a chance for Harry to relax, but all that is thrown up in the air by the appearance of one newly divorced Draco Malfoy. Mainly because they had been together almost fifteen years ago before Draco broke it off to marry the woman his mother chose for him… Feat. a matchmaking hotel, a spa day, an all-knowing Weasley, and friends who do try their best, but can get a little distracted.

Seven-and-sixpence for @oknowkiss [E, ~35,700]

The entire plan of Harry’s life had been defeat evil, become an Auror, marry Ginny. Not necessarily in that order, but it seemed to be going that way, the first two managed and the third in easy limbo. He can be better, though. He can be more. Draco will see to it.

Slip Slidin’ Your Way (In a Land of Fire and Ice) for @frm9pm [T, ~9,800]

How does a war-scarred young wizard recuperate and create a new identity? Harry opens himself to the magic of the land. Draco learns to wonder at the humblest of creatures. Years later, Magigeologist Evan Jameson and Malacologist Derek Black begin an enthusiastic correspondence. They’re in for a shock when they finally meet. Or: Science nerds go to Iceland and fall in love. Or: Why should kelp have all the fun?

Pillar of Salt for @agentmoppet [E, ~62,200]

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Prescription for @fantalfart [G, ~2,600]

Draco couldn't say he hated his job, not really. In fact, he loved it⁠—and wasn't that something surprising, a Malfoy being a Healer, when most of them hadn't worked a day in their lives?—and most of all, he loved knowing that he was helping people heal, above anything else. (And if there was a part of him that craved the normalcy of something that helped instead of what he had been taught to do his entire life? Well. That was between himself and his journal when he remembered to write in it.) (And maybe there was another reason too.)

Old love don't rust for @drarrydoodles [E, ~20,600]

“Why do you keep coming?” Malfoy asked at last. Harry mulled over the question. For a moment he debated trying to turn the tables and asking Malfoy the very same thing. But this time he didn’t want to hold back. “Because I can’t stop,” Harry said.

Equipoise for khalulu [T, ~88,200]

Ten years of peace have settled over the wizarding world, leaving Harry Potter feeling strangely adrift. Teaching Defense at Hogwarts is fine and all, but when mysterious magical blackouts start sweeping across the country, he can't help but jump at the chance to investigate. It would be the perfect outlet for his restless energy - if he didn't suddenly find himself tangled up in an elaborate charade, pretending to date the Prophet's most illustrious journalist, Draco Malfoy. Between hunting down the cause of the blackouts and maintaining their ruse, Harry's beginning to think that peacetime might actually be trickier - and far more surprising - than he'd bargained for.

Victory Lap for @traylalascrisis [E, ~4,700]

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat first.” For emphasis, he pinches the skin at my waist. I want to cover myself in him. I want to roll in him like a dog. I want to devolve on top of him. And he wants me to sit nicely and use a knife and fork first?

[captainsparklefingers]

I want Orym to be the one who kills Ludinus. I mean, I won't make any arguments about who deserves to end that stupid asshole more, because all of Bell's Hells have legit reason to wanna be the one to finish him off...I just want it to be Orym.

I want Imogen to beat the shit out of him physically and emotionally, Keyleth to kick him a whole bunch, Laudna to punch him a whole bunch, Chetney and Ashton to kick AND punch him (in the face specifically), I want Fearne and Dorian to dislocate his limbs and hold him down while Orym turns him into a pincushion.

And Braius can crush his head after that's all done, just to make totally sure he's gone.

Yes, I have so much rage and hatred exclusively for Ludinus. Nothing but love and admiration to Matt for playing him in such a way that I'm so angry. You keep doing what you're doing, no notes.

(also I am still convinced Ludinus is from Aeor, ain't no way some kid on the ground watching that city fall would have the same type of trauma that somebody who was from there and survived did. Like, yes, trauma. But Ludinus's hatred just feels SO personal.)

[supercantaloupe]

just occurred to me this morning as i woke up this morning why i'm (probably) so taken aback by people in orchestra being So Nice to me cause i saw some photos on social media posted by ppl i traveled to [redacted] with, people who only stood to even have a conversation with me as a last resort kind of social option. i have literally Never gotten along with groups of people, Ever, unless that group of people was also orchestra people. seriously

[hausofmingi]

spotlight | choi seungcheol

pairing: choi seungcheol x afab reader

word count: 5.6K

summary: You're so excited to get the opportunity to sound design your favorite show, Hadestown. But the new lighting guy really knows how to piss you off.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, sound designer!reader, lighting designer!seungcheol, switch!reader and switch!seungcheol, fight for dominance, unprotected piv (don't do that), oral (f and m receiving), semi-public?, munch behavior, head pusher (SORRY IM SORRY), use of petnames (babygirl, sweetie/sweetheart, good girl, baby)

author's note: so hi. if you've noticed i've been gone for like months and months, no i haven't mind ya business. ANYWAYS this was a VERYYYYY indulgent fic bc as you may be able to tell i dabble in theatre. but im not a sound person, maybe one day ill do a fic from an actor perspective but something about being in the booth got me IDKKKKKK. also this would never happen and don't do this it's so incredibly unprofessional. and thank you to my betas, @hausofwoo and T, yall always have my back (and so does neo).

It’s always exciting getting started on a new show. The new people, new creative outlets, new ideas to try. After the last couple years of being a sound designer, you really feel like you found your groove when it came to jumping into a new show. 

This is a theatre you have worked for a few times before; a small one but it paid the techies well and even got you some union points. 

The production manager, Moonbyul, was a longtime friend and had called you in to sound design Hadestown. You had to say yes, of course, to one of your favorite musicals. You had seen it on Broadway a few years before and fell in love with it, especially the production design of it all. 

Moonbyul had also mentioned that they were bringing in a new lighting designer. The last one you had worked with was very lovely, but also an older man that would fall asleep between cues so probably for the best…

At the first production meeting, you were eager to get started and fire off all the great ideas you had for the production, so you wanted to get there early to get all your notes organized. 

You walked into the theatre about half an hour early, expecting to see Moonbyul and Vernon (the stage manager) running around, but they were nowhere to be found. 

You set your stuff down in an audience seat, and head to the stage. It had been a few years since you had been on this side of things, but it always gave you a rush to see the audience from this view; standing center stage. 

Retiring from performing was not an easy choice, fueled by hate and trauma and self-judgement. But when it was time to leave, you found a space in sound design. Being taken under the wing of a longtime mentor, Jihoon, made everything come to you easy and you’ve been hooked ever since. 

Even though the stage is dark, you can close your eyes and imagine the audience in front of you, lights shining, costume sparkling. You hum a few bars of “Flowers” to yourself, slowing your breathing and your brain for just a second. 

BOOM. A bright light cuts through your vision. You hold your hands up in front of your eyes to shield them before you open them. 

“What the heck??” you shout at whoever is in the booth. 

“Sorry, sorry.” says a voice, the light too bright for you to make out a face. “You just looked like you could use a spot.”

“I’m good thanks…” you answer back coldly. 

“Alright, but just know you look great from up here. Made for the stage.” the voice says. 

“Thanks..” you answer under your breath, not sure how to react to the obvious compliment.

The spot shuts off and you blink a few times to adjust your eyesight. Standing in the booth is a figure, a taller man with broad shoulders. But it's still too dark to see his facial features. 

It seems as if he’s just standing there… looking at you.

“Um… can you bring up the house lights?” you ask him. 

“Oh yeah! Sorry..” he responds. The house lights come up a second later. “I’m gonna come down there, hold on one sec!” he says.

You step off of the stage, a little embarrassed you got caught lost in a daydream. You walk over to your stuff, digging through your backpack to get out your Ipad and pencil, if only you could find the damn thing…

A tap on your shoulder startles you and you turn around in defense. In front of you stands maybe the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. His hair was long, his bangs perfectly framing his dark, deep eyes. And man were those shoulders broad… he could probably pick you up and throw you around a little….

You were staring. 

“Um.. sorry you scared me.” you said, trying to cover up your obvious gawking. 

“No you’re good, I tend to sneak up on people. I’m Seongcheol by the way, nice to meet you.” he holds out his (very large) hand for you to shake.

“___” you respond, and take his hand. You’re too stunned to even move your hand to shake his, but he holds your hand strongly and commands the handshake. 

An obvious indicator that he can take control. 

You shake away that thought, remembering the pact you made with yourself to stay far far away from another showmance. 

Your hand is still in his, and his eyes have not left yours. Has time slowed down?

“Good, you guys have met!” says Moonbyul, walking down the aisle where you guys were standing, Vernon trailing close behind. Seungcheol lets go of your hand and quickly turns around to face them. 

“Ready to get this meeting started?”

The rest of the production team trickles in and the production meeting promptly starts; Moonbyul is not one for tardiness. 

All the designers give their presentations, and this is always so exciting for you. To watch the production blossom from pieces of paper to onstage art is a beautiful thing. You especially love the costume designers concept of using color to show contrast between the human characters and the god characters.

Finally comes Seungcheol’s presentation. He opens up his laptop to a lighting program, already set with the stages dimensions and the set design and presses play. He explains while the lights change from scene to scene, full of color and different gobos to add texture. 

There is obviously a lot of thought put behind this design. He is extremely talented. And hot. 

His presentation finishes and it’s obvious how his shoulders relax. Those broad shoulders. He must not like being the center of attention, you think.

It’s your turn next, so you shake the thoughts of him away before stepping in front of the others with your laptop in hand. 

You are always very prepared, already having the mic plot done and the sound effects downloaded to the board. You are super excited to present your concept for the final song- I Raise My Cup. Having seen the show on Broadway, you have a good idea of how the audience will react to the final scene of the show. Complete silence. So your concept is to have the characters sing this song with no help of the mics, completely acapella and completely raw. 

“But what if the audience claps?” Seungcheols voice shoots through your confidence. 

“They won't,” you reassure. 

“But they might, and then what? We won't be able to hear Persephone and then the rest of the cast will be thrown off for the rest of the song,” he pushes.

“I promise, that won’t be a problem. The audience will be stunned by the heartbreaking ending, they won’t know what to do.”

“I don’t like it,” he says blankly.

Okay maybe he’s not so hot anymore. 

This little shit is totally bursting your bubble, what the fuck? You were so proud of this idea, why did he have to embarrass you in front of the director and entire production team??

“Let’s put a pin in that one. Thank you for that great presentation, let's move on to props!” says Moonbyul, cutting through the tension. 

You take your seat next to Seungcheol, but not before shooting him a piercing scowl. 

He leans over to you once you sit down. “Hey, no hard feelings. I'm just a skeptic, ya know?” he whispers over the presentation. 

“Yeah well next time please keep it to yourself. Some of us are trying to make a name in this theatre,” you shoot back. 

The rest of the meeting is spent with your arms crossed, trying not to melt into the smell of Seungcheol’s cologne, but rather hold steady in your annoyance with him. 

The next day is the first day of rehearsal for the cast, and although you aren’t called, you decide to come in to organize the booth a little bit. 

They’re learning music on the stage, so you open the booth window so you can hear the cast sing. The music of this show is so beautiful, so romantic. It's nice to listen to while you work.

It’s when the actress playing Eurydice starts singing Flowers that you space off, lost in the beauty of the song. If you were still acting, this role would be a dream role for you. Of course you belt this song all the time in your car. 

You start to sing along under your breath, knowing that no one will hear you up here. 

Flowers, I remember fields of flowers, soft beneath my heels

You sing to yourself, imagining a beautiful field laid out before you instead of a 10-year-old soundboard. 

I remember someone, someone by my side. Turned his face to mine, and then he turned away, into the shade. 

In the field of flowers, who pops into your head but Seungcheol. That asshole is so damn beautiful you can’t help but imagine him as your Orpheus. 

The song finishes out with the final notes and you sigh as your day dream dissipates, shaking away the thought of ever seeing Seungcheol in that way and returning back to the box of mystery chords you were wrapping.

Someone clears their throat behind you. You really hope it's Vernon. 

“Didn’t know you could sing?” says Seungcheol from behind you. 

“I don’t anymore.” you reply coldly, not really interested in conversing with him.

“You should, you have a beautiful voice,” he says.

You turn away from him as he comes to the lightboard next to you, hiding your blush. 

“Thanks,” you say, trying not to show too much emotion in your voice.

Silence fills the space as he pulls up a chair and opens up the light programming app on the desktop. You direct your attention back to your cords that connect to god knows what. 

“So about yesterday…” he starts.

“Yeah, that was a dick move,” you blurt out. Maybe not so direct next time.

“Look I get that you’re upset, but I just call them like I see them. I get your idea but I don’t think it's gonna work. What's wrong with a little bit of criticism?” he asks.

You take a breath before you turn to him and give him a piece of your mind.

“What’s wrong is I don’t know what gave you the idea that I asked for criticism. I’ve been working at this theatre for a long time, you’re still fresh meat. Really isn’t a good look to come flouncing in giving everyone unsolicited criticism,” you spit at him. 

You get so worked up that you stomp over to where he is sitting on the other side of the booth. The look on his face is unwavering though, in fact it turns into a smirk as he stands. 

He is easily a foot taller than you, looking down at you without closing the space between the two of you. 

You feel so small. You swear you feel yourself throb.

“Someone’s got their panties in a twist,” he says, still smirking. 

You are stunned, mouth falling open but no words coming out. That sentence has never sounded sexier.

“It’s alright, I’ll be nicer to you from now on, knowing how sensitive you get.” he says, leaning down to whisper in your ear for extra effect. 

And then the asshole just walks away and sits back down as if nothing even happened. 

You’re still frozen in place, in shock at the intense flirting that just happened. 

“So, you said you have worked here for a while, how have you liked it?” he asks, continuing the conversation with no indication of what just happened. 

This is going to be a long day. 

After a few hours of genuinely torturous small talk with Seungcheol mixed with palpable silence, you decide to call it an early day. You got almost nothing done, besides wrapping and unwrapping a bunch of useless cords and clicking on random folders on the sound desktop. 

As you leave, he promises to see you tomorrow and sends you off with a wink that makes your knees weak.

The next day, you get there later than usual. The cast is learning blocking in the dance studio, giving the techies free reign of the stage for the afternoon. 

You’re hoping your tardiness will allow you to avoid the overlap with Seungcheol and you can have the booth to yourself.

But, no luck. There he is, sitting in the rolling chair at the lighting desktop in the sexiest skin tight compression shirt you’ve ever seen. 

You don’t even realize you’re gawking when he turns the chair around. “Like what you see?” he teases.

You come back to your senses at his words. “You wish,” you grumble as you head to your station, hoping to get some work done today. 

You swear you hear him scoff as he turns back to the desktop.

“Blackout!” he shouts down to the set people on the stage, as he presses the “next cue” button. A series of “thank you blackouts!” follow, in proper theatre etiquette.

You keep quiet though. 

He goes through a few more cues, calling blackout a few more times, and you still don’t say anything. 

“You know, it’s proper manners to say ‘thank you’ when I call blackout,” he points out after the 4th time.

“What do you know about manners?” you grumble under your breath.

He crosses over to you, again smirking, as he says “Enough to know that you need to learn some, baby girl.”

Shocks of electricity go straight to your clit. 

“Don’t call me that, get that stick out of your ass, and fucking leave me alone Seungcheol!” you shout, unsure if you're more angry or turned on or both. 

You grab your stuff to leave in a hurry, all the while he doesn’t move from his spot where he’s standing; just leans against the counter and crosses his arms to watch you angrily throw stuff in your bag. 

You turn to leave, expecting him to apologize for his inappropriate comment. But when you turn to look back at him, all you see is him looking at you with that stupidly sexy smirk on his face. He waves a finger at you before you stomp down the stairs and out of the booth. 

You text Moonbyul and Vernon some bullshit excuse about period cramps and that you have to leave early, before going home and using up all the battery in your vibrator.

Saturday no one is called, so you use this as an excuse to go in and pick up where you left off before leaving in a huff.

Luckily you have keys, so you let yourself into the empty theatre and up to the booth.

It’s really nice to work in the silence of the empty theatre, only the ghostlight lighting the stage. You leave the ceiling light off in the booth, only leaving on the string lights you and Jihoon added to make the space more cozy. 

You put on your headphones and get to work. The music director sent you a recording of the cast singing, so you make sure all your cues align with the music.

You work for about an hour before it's rudely interrupted by Seungcheol lifting one side of the headphones off your ear. You feel his breath on the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your back, before he whispers, “Boo.” 

Jumping out of your chair a little bit, you snatch his hand away from your headphones and turn back around without a word to him. 

“Sorry to scare you,” he giggles. “I just forgot my charger last time.”

You give him no reply, not interested in potentially entering another conversation where you leave dripping.

“Actually, would you mind if I stayed and worked on a few things?” he asks.

Again, you don’t respond. 

You see him shrug his shoulders in your peripherals and sit down in his chair to get to work.

Both of you sit in heavy silence as you work, and the more silent it is, the more you feel the tension rise, with anger burning in your chest.

What is the deal with this guy? Does he like just getting a rise out of people? Why does he feel the need to torture me? What did I even do to him??

“Gum?” he asks, holding out a pack to you.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you shout back.

He looks stunned as he takes a piece out and unwraps it, popping it in his mouth. “So, no gum then…”

“Why do you treat me this way, Seungcheol? It’s fucked up,” you shout, moving towards him to really give it to him.

“Treat you what way exactly?” he asks slyly.

“You just keep saying annoying shit to me, pushing my buttons and pissing me off. But then you make me leave every conversation so turned on that I can’t even think straight. I don’t get it, what is your issue with me??” You shout at him.

He looks at you in silence for a second, his expression unreadable.

“I… turn you on?” he asks.

Oh shit. You may have revealed a bit too much….

“I… what? I didn’t mean to say that,” you stutter.

“Oh well in that case… it won’t mean anything to you if I do this?” 

He stands up and turns to face you, arms leaning against the countertop, caging you between them. You swear you see the veins straining against his skin, bulging out from his thick arms as he moves closer.

He leans in close to your ear, breath fanning down your neck. You’re frozen in place, trying to focus on slowing your breathing. 

“Jump,” he says. And you do, hopping up to sit on the counter. Why did you just obey him??

“Good girl.”

Oh that’s why.

“Now,” he starts, his lips moving all over your neck, so close but not touching as he breathes the next few words onto you. 

“I’m really curious to know exactly what it is I do that turns you on?” one of his hands snakes up the side of your thigh, dipping just slightly under the skirt you’re wearing and playing with the edge. 

“Can you tell me, baby girl?” he says before he licks a stripe up your neck. 

You shudder and lean into him a little bit. It’s over for you now.

“Say the word and I’ll stop,” he says, hovering in front of your lips now. 

You grab his arm to stop him from moving back. “Please,” you say in a desperate voice. 

His lips meet yours, and slowly he starts making out with you. His big lips make it sloppy, but it's so hot you could care less.

He sneaks his tongue into your mouth, swirling around yours so sensually it goes straight to your throbbing pussy. He snakes his hand into your hair, guiding your head with his big hand to deepen the kiss. 

The strap of your tank top falls and before you can put it back, he takes the opportunity to bring it down even more, revealing your bare breast to him. He pinches your nipple between two fingers, lightly twisting it enough to make you whimper into his mouth.

He pulls away after a few seconds, a string of spit connecting your lips. You look up at his large frame through your lashes, breathing heavily. 

And then he does something you don’t expect. He drops to his knees. 

He grabs your ass and forcefully pulls you forward on the counter to access you better. You know he can see the wet spot forming on your white panties, and try to cross your legs out of embarrassment.

“Absolutely not.” he says in protest, snaking his arms underneath your thighs and grabbing them so you’re practically sitting on his shoulders.

He kisses up and down your thighs, not yet touching you where you need him. You whine and wiggle your hips, attempting to bring him closer. 

“Someone really does have their panties in a twist…” he smirks from below you. That little shit.

He barely gives you what you desperately need, lightly kissing your clit through your panties.

“Cheol, please…” you whine, attempting to get him to give you a little bit more. 

“Babygirl, I know you can beg better than that,” he says, lifting his head up. He keeps a finger pressed to your clit as he talks, rubbing in small, torturous circles. 

Your cheeks heat up, probably turning red. You’ve already given in to this annoying shit, there’s no way you’re begging for him. You just whine in response, not willing to give him what he wants. 

“You sure you don’t want to beg for it?...” he questions slyly, while at the same time moving your now completely wet panties to the side.

He gives your pulsing clit a few kitten licks, just enough to give you a taste of what you could have, all while never breaking eye contact with you. 

You whimper at the contact, starting to reach out your hand to grab his head and pull it closer. He knows what you're up to, though, and grabs your wrist, forcing it back to its place on the counter.

“Now try again baby, beg for what you want.” he says, slipping your panties off in anticipation.

You sit there a minute, chest already heaving with desire, dripping all over the counter. 

“Please Cheol, you know how badly I need it. I deserve it after all the shit you put me through,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can think about them fully.

He raises his eyebrow at you, smiling that stupid fucking smirk that makes you shiver. “Oh is that so?” he questions.

And then he dives in. It’s as if he has been eating your pussy for years, somehow finding the exact rhythm and pressure on your clit that makes the string lights turn blurry. His arms are wrapped around both of your thighs, as if he was trying to choke them out. 

You grab the back of his head with one hand, and start rolling your hips into his mouth, chasing the high that is hurdling closer. He loves it, judging by the way he growls into your pussy, barely pulling away to mumble “fuck yes” before plunging two fingers into you. 

It only takes him hooking them into your g-spot a few times along with flicking your clit with his tongue before you are cumming into him, gasping and not letting go of the tight hold you have on his hair. 

He pulls away, resting his head on the inside of your thigh, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon. His plump lips are completely drenched with your wetness. He looks up at you through his lashes, as if you were a goddess.

Oh, it really is over for me. 

“Stand up,” you order.

He questions you at first, but then gets the message when you hop off the counter and drop to your knees. 

He pets your hair, towering over you, but not unbuckling his belt like you so want him to. 

“You really don’t have to, baby. But it’s so sweet seeing how compliant you are.” he says with a slight smirk. 

“Shut up,” you say, all the while undoing his belt. He continues to pet your hair, watching your every move. 

You pull his cock out of his boxers. It's perfect; long but not too long, and slightly curved upwards. He’s definitely a fucking munch seeing how much it's already dripping precum. 

You hover your lips around the tip, kissing it lightly. He hums above you in approval. 

“Now, it's your turn to beg for it.” you tease, pulling away from him. 

He chuckles from above you, fucking chuckles, before grabbing the back of your head with more force than before.

“Oh sweetie, I don’t beg.” he says, before pulling your head forward onto him.

A head pusher? Yeah… But for some reason, this time, it was the hottest thing he could have done. 

You get to work, watching his mouth drop open in pleasure while you work your mouth up and down his length. You cup your tongue around the underside of him, pulling out every trick in the book to try and get the upperhand in this fight.

He’s very obviously enjoying it, moaning loud enough for anyone in the theater to hear and eyes locked into contact with yours. He swipes his other hand through his bangs, which are now collecting the sweat from his brow. God he’s beautiful.

Even though his hand is holding your head down, you still have full control, so you slow down your pace just a little to try another trick. 

You bring your hand up to cup his balls, lightly squeezing and tugging to bring him closer. You feel his cock pulse in your mouth at the added pleasure. 

But nothing could’ve prepared him for your next trick. 

You slowly trail your finger backwards, lightly circling his rim to test the waters. But before you can even think about going further, you hear a gargled moan come from him, and he pulls you off your knees by your hair. 

Your face meets his, foreheads touching, but you divert your eyes down, scared you may have crossed a line.

“Why the fuck are you trying to make me cum before I get to feel that pussy around me?” he asks.

Your cheeks heat up knowing that it worked, filing that info into your head for another time. 

“Turn around,” he barks, but you stay still. You bring your eyes up off the floor to meet his, determined not to let him win the struggle for control. 

“Funny if you think I’m going to let you fuck me from behind right off the bat.” you say, trying to put power behind your words even though you feel so little in his arms. 

“Oh, well then what’s your alternative sweetheart?” he cuts back at you, as if humoring you.

“Take this off,” you say, tugging at his shirt, “and sit down.”

“Hm… but aren’t you going to take anything off too?” he asks, pulling away and pulling his shirt over his head from the back of the neck. 

You get distracted by his toned stomach, your retort getting stuck in the back of your throat. 

He giggles at you again, before stepping forward and grabbing the hem of the crop top you were wearing. 

“How about, we take this off, but leave the skirt on?” he says, dragging his fingers along the bottom of your shirt, waiting for your consent.

You nod at him, and he swiftly lifts the top off of you, leaving you in your skirt and bra. 

He silently backs up into the chair, sitting down and draping his thick arms over the arms of it.

You slowly walk towards him, really wanting to drag this part out, before you lift up your legs to straddle him in the chair.

You hover over his cock, but before you drop down, you make eye contact with him. He’s staring into you, as if looking into your soul, and you stutter your movements, all of the sudden getting nervous. 

It’s as if he senses the nerves, and brings a hand to the small of your back, trying to reassure and ground you silently.

You reach your hands up to cup his cheeks, before leaning in to kiss him. This one is different though, not like the intense one before. This one is slower, tongues just brushing over each other. Kissing like you have all the time in the world.

Your hands tangle in his hair as you slowly sink onto his length, pausing the kiss to moan in each other's mouths. 

As you bottom out, he holds your hips in place, not allowing you to start bouncing. “Just give me a minute, baby. You feel too good.” he sighs out.

You find it endearing how close he already is just from the kiss, and as much as you are tempted to start the game of control back up and just start bouncing, you stay still. 

You press your body against his in anticipation, so that your stomachs are pressed together. He feels so warm against you, and his arms circle around your back as he lets go of your hips. 

You take this as a green light and start bouncing on him, never breaking the contact of your forehead against his. 

He fills you up soooo perfectly, the curve in his cock dragging so deliciously along your g-spot. You can’t help but to speed up, the sounds of his balls slapping your wet pussy fill the booth. 

He’s circled his arms around your hips now, grabbing your ass and basically moving you up and down on his cock without you having to do any work. But even with that, the awkward position makes your legs burn and you start to slow down. 

“You getting tired baby?” he asks, and you nod. “Do you need me to help you?” he asks, to which you nod again. 

He wraps his arm underneath your thighs and picks you up out of the chair as if you weighed nothing. You knew those arms would come to good use. He sets you down on the edge of the counter before entering you again. 

You keep your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as he starts thrusting into you. This angle is different than before, allowing him to directly hit your g-spot every time.

His pace is somehow way more effective at pushing you to the edge than your own pace was, and you find yourself getting desperately close to your second orgasm. 

It’s as if he can read your mind, or it's probably just him feeling your pussy pulse around him tightly, but he smirks to himself. Almost too small for you to notice. But you do notice, and next thing you know he is pulling out and jacking his cock off in between you both. You whimper at the loss of him filling you up. 

“Help me cum and maybe I’ll let you cum again when I get you in my bed tonight,” he breathes out heavily. 

You huff out in frustration, but unfortunately, you are completely under his spell. You reach in between you both and take over jacking him off. Your other hand snakes around the back of his head, pulling it down towards you so you can whisper in his ear. 

“Maybe if you make me cum again tonight, I'll let you fill me up.” you whisper in his ear. 

That sends him over the edge, and he grabs the counter as he stutters in your hands, cumming all over your skirt. 

You giggle as his orgasm trails off. “You owe me a new skirt now I guess.” you say.

He catches his breath before scooping you up into his arms again. “I’ll buy you a hundred new skirts if you suck my dick my like that again.” 

With another giggle, you peck him on the nose. “So, does this mean I won the fight?” you ask. 

“I don’t know what makes you think that babygirl,” he chuckles as he sets you down. 

He hands you your shirt before finding his own. Still a gentleman even when he’s being an asshole. 

A door in the theatre opens, scaring the shit out of both of you. You both scramble into the spotlight room to put your clothes back on out of sight of the huge window.

“Hey guys! I know you’re here! The director just emailed me back with some tech notes.” Vernon yells from the audience. 

“Okay come on up, it's unlocked!” Seungcheol yells down to Vernon from the enclosed room, now fully dressed. 

He pecks you on the lips before rushing out of the room to his seat at the counter. Which you just fucked on.

You scramble to clean off your skirt with a tissue before rushing to your own chair and sitting down. But it isn’t until you sit down that you realize, you’re still not wearing panties. 

It’s as if Seungcheol reads your mind and you both lock eyes in terror. There are your panties sitting in the middle of the counter. 

The door opens and Vernon starts walking up the stairs to the booth as Seungcheol grabs your panties and haphazardly stuffs them in his pocket. 

“Hey guys, glad you're--” he stops in the middle of the sentence. “It smells like dick in here what the fuck??” he exclaims.

You hid your face, scared you might burst out laughing. 

Seungcheol takes the heat for you though, explaining it off as him leaving some leftovers in here overnight.

Vernon takes you both through some notes before leaving, with a peculiar expression on his face. 

Something tells you he has a suspicion, and you might be hearing some rumors tomorrow thanks to the nosy theatre bitches you surround yourself with…

It’s silent for a moment after Vernon leaves, before you both burst out laughing. 

“Okay well that was fun, but I’m getting my chair all wet. Can I have my underwear back now?” you ask after the laughter dies down. 

“Um, absolutely not! I’m keeping these,” Seungcheol says with a wink before turning back to his desktop to finally get to work. 

And later that night, you both get what you promised.

a/n: thank you for reading, and please reblog and leave feedback! 💕

[r0-boat]

Yessssss I lOvE your headcanons about the 2 unreleased kings 😋 must be because I love dark headcanons.... (and that in Abbadon is something couldn't miss out 😈)

But can you do some moreeee? 🥺 Like about the headcanons about interactions between kings perhaps (seven kings---!!!!) Or maybe between kings and MC pls 😚 I kinda crave for some dark contents right now (cus when I first play WHB, I already expect this 👀)

Only if you're fine with this request, and jusst ignore it if you don't okie 😘

Oh my God interactions with the Kings hshshs

I mostly just have really stupid headcanons about those guys interacting but I got some dark ones

Dark!whb King headcanons

speculation for asmodeus and belphegor(I'm writing these two before they come out)

Cw: yandere, murder, drugging/drugs, death, cannibalism, sexual slavery mentions of being sold off, most of this shit is just talking about a black market shcsdgj. This shit is dark dead dove do not eat

Disclaimer: I do not condone anything I write This is purely for fantasy written by adults for adults only!

Belphegor and asmodeus has been fully released here's the update

Links to little asks about people's questions

Question one about Satan's desires

Question two on Mammon

Satan

I don't think we talk about Satan's depression as much as we should have. What I feel like you would think himself as a wrathful monster unable to control his wrath, sometimes he would have depressive episodes where his personality is a completely 180. He's just as angry at himself as he is at everyone else.

The first time you've witnessed this depressive episode is when he accidentally struck you and made you bleed. His whole body starts shaking as he began to break down He tore apart his room and started crying and took weeks for him to calm down.

The reason why his subordinates are okay with him taking out his anger and physically hurting them is because if he doesn't have an outlet he'll take out it on himself.

Satan is dependent on you for his emotional needs. He loves you, and he needs you; please do not leave him.

Satan is definitely holding back a lot of his dark thoughts because he doesn't want to hurt you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold back these darker desires. Normally he tells you everything, but he doesn't want to scare you. He wants you to like him.

Leviathan

Leviathan is a budding yandere, He already stalks you. Trying to keep his obsessive thoughts underneath a layer of hatred. That hatred mixing into more obsession. Of course he wants you to love him, but he also wants to be hated by you just as much as he is loved because it gets him on your mind. And that's really all he wants. It doesn't matter if he makes you hate him. As long as you're thinking about him he is okay with that.

Because of his abuse as a child from angels I would not doubt he wouldn't know how to normally show affection.

He has killed another devil for you. And he will gladly do it again. He sends the heads of lower rank devils that you dare show a smile too under the name "You're admirer" isn't he so romantic.

Leviathan only tolerates the kings being around you because chilling one of them or they're subordinates would start a war. So to have you he must use sneakier tactics.

Beelzebub

He has a fantasy where he roofies you at a bar and takes you home with him. Whenever you go to the bathroom thinking that Your drink is safe with him, He stares blankly into the glass, thoughts swirling with mental images of your nice loopy giggly self being laid on his bed.

Angels taste like chicken, humans taste like beef, demons taste like pork. Humans so far is his favorite. Humanoid meat especially humans are delicacy and highly illegal in the Tartaros black market. A delicacy He has been recently craving.

If he ever dies he wants his last meal to be you after he fucks you of course.

Levi gives the bodies of the devils he has killed too Beel to eat.

Beel definitely does drugs He's mostly immune now... He hates that Adderall doesn't affect him the same as the others.

Mammon

Tartaros is home to the rich and the very powerful. They hold grandiose special parties where the wealthy gather. Of course Mammon attends these parties. These demons see you as a pretty little exotic pet unknowing that Mammon is the pet and you are the master. And these same demons frequently talk about how they would buy you at any price, talking about your body as if you are a piece of meat and a prize to be bought and sold. Sadly you are not for sale.

As the demon of greed flaunting is his specialty And he has definitely thought about telling you up and all his gold and jewels to bring you to one of these parties to show you off. As a message saying 'This is something you cannot have.

Mammon knows of the Tartaros Black market and he turns a blind eye, but he will gladly do something if you tell him to. Or if belphie gets off his ass and strong arms him.

Giving him a little more because getting asked for it: Mammon doesn't do shit about the black market because He owns part of it and he practically created it. This man runs his kingdom like a mafia and he is a mob boss. Shady dealings to other kingdoms smuggling goods anything for More money and greater goods.

Lucifer

Has purchased a human corpse from the same black market for scientific purposes he swears up and down.

He slowly corrupting himself He beats himself up over it but at the same time he kind of likes it.

"hey can I cut you open and look at your organs? No? Oh okay..."

Lucifer because of his past as an angel suddenly gets urges to kill you. They have gone down over time since his transformation as a devil but he really shouldn't be getting this hard over thoughts of putting his hands around your neck.

Makes aphrodisiacs as a paid commission for asmodeus. And asks you to test the drugs.

If you ever die he wants to keep your beautiful eyes.

Your blood is a beautiful drug like sweet wine. He's obsessed with the taste

Belphegor

Belphegor and his superpower of a kingdom are the only reason why the Kings actually give a damn about their laws. Nifleheim is a strong powerhouse and a great enemy to those who don't want to make one of them.

However, Belphegor isn't all justice and the law and order in fact far from that. He is the law whatever he wants he can bypass it and everyone will turn a blind eye. If you were ever sold by Mammon to the highest bidder Belphegor would be your buyer.

Grand spectacles of public executions are very popular thing in Nifleheim(Belphie Danganronpa fan)

The real horror is that belphie invest in cryptocurrency and has an NFT/j

Belphie is also completely dependent on you and he will make you stay any way necessary.

Belphie only hasn't cracked down on the others harder as he should is because he doesn't give a fuck what happens in other kingdoms if it is in his own.

Belphie thinks Asmodeus is a disgusting freak. Leviathan is an amateur to him. Satan and belphie would get along pretty well I think they would be FPS partners.

Asmodeus

All of hell's most heinous devils come here because the laws are so lax. You're wondering why this kingdom hasn't fall to complete anarchy... Apparently getting you addicted on sex and then withholding it as a punishment is surprisingly very effective.

Asmodeus would love to have you but hasn't invite you yet because... Well if your kingdom is filled with half trained rabid dogs and you throw a nice fine steak inside.... Yeahhh.

Asmodeus is actually a pretty nice dude, He's very calm, polite and chivalrous. Which makes you wonder how much of that is a mask. Something you'll never know.

Asmodeus has a harem I think that goes without saying. And he talks greatly about adding you to that harem and how you would be his favorite~

It's no secret that I think humans are a very sexualized being in hell. Asmodeus is one of the demons with a huge human kink. Humans in his eyes are still primal animals which is part of their biggest appeal to him.

Asmodeus thinks belphie has a stick up his ass and he needs to loosen the fuck up

[oshygoshy]

6:37 pm

word count - 907 words

warnings - kuroo is a loser also shitty writing, not proof read much

a/n - happy bday kuroo this is ass lowkey but i'm sorry i'm trying my best. i hate university i'm so busy and stressed but at least my suitemate got a kitty and she's so soft and warm and cute slay

anyways yeah kuroos a loser with no rizz...sorry. he's kicking his feet and giggling over 1 (one) interaction

there was a man. in your spot. at the library.

it was (unfortunately) finals week, meaning you were one more quiz away from a certified crash out, and one more discussion post away from taking a swan dive off the closest bridge. your left eye was twitching, you were running on less than the healthy 8 hours of sleep, and you were drinking your second energy drink of the day.

you were supposed to go to the library on campus to Your Spot, the one you have reigned supreme over for the past few months. it was quiet, on the 4th floor, away from everybody working on group projects below. it was secluded, off in the corner. it had a nice charging block with multiple outlets available, and it had a pretty view of some trees that sunlight could warm you as day faded into night.

it was perfect. it was beautiful.

and it was currently being taken by some guy.

your eye twitched again. you debated shoving him out of your chair, or pouring your drink over his computer, or maybe just glaring at him and biting his shoulder like a rabid animal (the aforementioned crash out from above), but you recognize that starting and escalating an altercation is not productive, and also that a homicide charge won't add anything to your gpa.

so you sighed, resigned, before making your way to the empty table a few feet from Your Spot. but you decided to do some investigative research (read: spying) to figure out what could possibly be so important for this man to study that he needed to take Your Spot. you quickly peek over his shoulder, scanning for his notes and computer.

“net profit…statistical probability…essay for…”

your eye twitches again. statistical probability? net profit? no fucking way Your Spot was taken by a business major?? a finance bro? an absolute buffoon?? did they even have finals, other than a coloring page? 

fuck you, mysterious business guy. fuck you. 

you were just about to leave when your eyes left his desk-

-and locked eyes with him. 

he...he caught you staring!!

wait. no. you caught him stealing your spot, and then you decided to snoop a bit, rightfully so! he's in the wrong here!!

"um, do you need something?" he asked, an easy smile on his lips. 

his eyes were hazel with golden depths, and though his hair was messy and his eyes tired, you could still see the gleam of a piercing (and honestly, kind of hot) look to them. 

"...no," you say. 

"you can have this table, if you want," he said, beginning to pack up. "i'm almost done here anyway." 

"oh no, you don't have to-"

"but don't you sit here everyday to study?" he whispered, standing up. you realized just then how tall he was. 

you catch his words after a second (you were not distracted by the height difference!), and stare at him hard. "what are you, a stalker? how do you know where i sit?"

he shrugged, zipping up his bag and hoisting it onto his shoulder. "well you sit in the same spot on the same floor like clockwork every night, so it's kind of hard not to not notice."

you rack your brain, trying to remember if you ever saw a guy like him sitting nearby you in the library. it would be hard to forget someone who looked like him (respectfully, and because he is tall and for no other reason!!!), but for some reason, you couldn't remember seeing him at all. maybe he really was a stalker?? "well why did you decide to take my spot then anyway, stalker?" you huff, annoyed. 

he had started leaving by now, and brushed your shoulder on the way out. he looked over his shoulder with a smile full of charm. 

"because i wanted an excuse to talk to someone pretty like you, of course," he said with a grin. "see you next week."

he left his crush standing jaw open as he nonchalantly scurried away. jesus christ, he never realized just how hard his heart would beat when he spoke to you.

he liked how focused you looked when you worked on your assignments, or how your finger tapped restlessly against your pencil when you came across something difficult. it was just a little school crush, really, and he shouldn't be looking too much into it. but when he got to the library today and saw someone had stolen his spot a few tables away, meaning that he could sit in yours and get an excuse to talk to you...well, he was just a little bit giddy.

he opened the old groupchat from his high school days. a lot of his friends from nekoma were busy with their own lives, but they still kept in touch to this day.

kuroo: guess who go to talk to their crush todayyyy yaku: you finally gained the guts? wow, how impressive. i'm sure they're head over heels for you now. kai: congratulations on saying hi!! kenma: stalker kuroo: i hate all of you.

he couldn't contain his little giggle. maybe next time, he would have the confidence to ask to sit next to you.

[anjaelle]

Hii I’m in loveeee with your writing I was wondering if you could write a Dave Lizewski x bimbo reader fic?

Oooh this sounds fun. I had to ruminate on this a bit, but I think I got it.

Pairing: College!Dave Lizewski x Bimbo!Reader

Rating: She's tame

Word Count: 1.3K

--

He was staring again. Every time you turned to look at him, he would quickly avert his eyes to the front of the room. In confusion, you turned to look behind you, only to see the blank wall of the classroom. You looked back at him and found him staring straight ahead like he'd been caught doing something bad.

You pulled your phone out of your bag and opened the front facing camera to check to see if you forgot to properly blend your makeup again. Or maybe you had crumbs on your face.

It didn't look like you had anything on your face. Though you did think you could use a re-up on gloss, and maybe a touch-up on your brows. You accidentally left your makeup bag in your dorm, and you kept losing all of your backup purse makeup, so all you had was a lip balm and school stuff. You supposed that you could use this as an excuse to do a quick drugstore run across the street to pick up another backup makeup kit. But you also felt like you'd be missing out on the sushi buffet in the dining hall if you got there too late. You hadn't had sushi in a long time, it would've been a shame to miss it. Then again you could always order it from that one spot you went to with that one guy. What was his name again? Something with a "F"--

"Hello?" The professor said, addressing you and pulling you out of your thoughts. You raised your brows in surprise, and smiled sweetly.

"Hi!"

Your professor tapped her chin with a beautifully manicured nail and looked you over with a funny look on her face. "Your presentation topic for next week?"

"Oh!" You said, looking down at your notes. "Well, I might talk a little about how hard influencing is and how it's actually harder than a 9-5 job. I'm still deciding. What do you think, professor?"

There were a few whispers in the class as she thought hard on the question. At least that's what you thought she was doing.

"Why don't you workshop that and get back to me tomorrow?" She finally said, turning away from you and moving onto another classmate.

You pouted at yet another presentation subject being shot down and made a note in the margins of your notebook to do just that. You hated going to her office hours, because you felt like you could never really do anything right.

When class let out, you pulled your phone out to text your friends about your change of plans tomorrow, when you felt a gentle touch on your elbow and turned to find Lizewski. Knowing that he was quiet and always a little bit stuttery, you smiled politely and gave him your full attention.

"Hi, how are you?"

"H-Hey," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Uh...I saw that you've been having a bit of a hard time with our media class."

A few people passed by the two of you in the hallway and greeted you but shot a curious look his way.

"It's so bad isn't it?" You frowned, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "I'm literally so great at most Social Media outlets, I don't understand why this is so hard. I mean...it's all the same shit."

He nodded, wide eyed and eager as always, "You're so right."

"And I'm trying really hard, but I just can't get it."

"I can help!" He blurted out. "Only if you want. I mean, you probably don't need my help. But I'd be happy to, if you want."

"You'd help me?" You asked, genuinely touched. "I don't know if I can pay you much, but how much do you want?"

"You don't have to pay me, come on." He dropped his eyes to his sneakers and shifted his weight on his feet, "We've known each other since middle school."

This time your eyes widened in surprise, "We have?"

This time it was his turn to look at you in surprise and confusion, "You went to my Bar Mitzvah."

"I did?" Then you thought about it, "I only remember going to one, and it was this boy named David."

He let out a short laugh and nodded, "Yes, that was me."

"David?! But everyone calls you Lizewski! That's your last name?" He nodded again and you gasped. Your whole world turned upside down. Without thinking you pulled him into a tight hug, "It's so nice to see you again, David! I thought you moved away in high school!"

"No," he said against your shoulder, "I just grew my hair out. And got taller. And you can call me Dave, or David, or Lisewski. Whatever you want."

You pulled away from the hug with a huge grin, and you reached out to readjust his glasses which sat crookedly on his face. Then you looked him over, trying to see the skinny thirteen year old you remembered in the grown man in front of you. You could almost see it. If he cut his hair shorter, and lost about a foot of height, he'd totally look the same. You grasped his shoulders in appreciation.

"Well this is wonderful! I've never had a friend for longer than 3 years before!"

As you walked side by side across campus, you could feel people staring like you had three heads. After the fourth set of eyes on you, you nudged Dave with your elbow.

"Do I have something on my face?" You tilted your head from side to side so he could examine you properly, and he shook his head.

"No, why?"

"People keep staring at me." You frowned, "It's kind of weird."

Dave said nothing at first, but looked around to see the evidence of your suspicion and sighed. "I think it's because you're hanging out with me."

You snorted, "That can't be it. That's so silly."

He kicked a small rock down the footpath and hummed in disagreement, "Is it? I mean...you're you. I'm me. We don't really hang out. I think people are used to seeing you with guys from...Sigma Alpha Epsilon"

You still didn't get it, and you crinkled your nose in disgust at the mention of the name.

"I don't talk to them. They're losers," you shuddered again, "They all have a weird obsession with skulls too. Have you ever seen those skulls with the blue stripe down the middle? They all have them on their trucks. It's so weird."

You watched him raise a single brow as he kicked the rock further down the path, "Are you talking about The Punisher's symbol?"

Before you could ask, he showed you a picture on his phone and you nodded.

"Yeah that's it! What's The Punisher? Is that, like, a band?"

He chuckled, "It's a comic book character and his symbol gets misused a lot. He's a vigilante."

You frowned, thinking of why someone would choose to do something like that. That seemed kind of mean.

"Well can you really see me hanging out with a bunch of guys who like vigilantes?"

For some reason, Dave's step seemed to falter, and he peered at you curiously, "Oh. Are you--do you think vigilantes are bad?"

There was a hint of poorly disguised panic in his voice.

You were confused about why he was confused. The answer was obvious.

"Vigils are a good thing," you said, matter-of-factly. You were surprised that you had to break this down to someone as smart as him. "Sometimes people have vigils for their dead grandmas and their pets, and stuff. Someone who's anti-vigils is obviously not a good person."

Dave gave you a long, strange look and laughed. Like, actually laughed. You didn't understand what was so funny about being pro-vigils. You felt like that wasn't exactly a controversial opinion. Were you on the wrong side of history this whole time? Were vigils actually bad?

"Are they bad for the environment or something? Like, the candles?" You squinted at him. He rushed to ease your worries with an extended hand.

"No! No, it's--vigilantes aren't people who are anti-vigils. They beat up bad people."

Oh.

"What a weird name to have for that," You admitted rolling the word over in your brain. Then you brightened at the memory of something, "Hey there was a guy back home that was like that! Kick-Ass! Do you remember him?"

He said nothing for a moment, but shrugged in response.

"Yeah, kinda."

"All the girls in our grade were obsessed with him," you continued, fishing through your bag for your dorm key. "At first, we thought it was that one weird guy who used to try and sell us coke from the trunk of his car down the street from our school. But one girl said that he saved her dad from getting jumped, and he was apparently, like, young. At least college aged."

"Ha," Dave simply said, "Maybe. I kind of remember people thinking it was someone from our school, though. Someone most people wouldn't even really expect, because it'd be super hard to keep a low profile. Someone who's probably super strong and really cool, even though most people don't know it."

You suddenly giggled, "What if it was that guy Todd Haynes?"

Dave stumbled over his own feet and shot his hand out to steady himself.

"You know who Todd Haynes is?"

"Yeah, I know him. He was in my gym class!"

"He's my best friend, I've known him my whole life. I'm--shocked that you know him." You brightened at the new information.

"I didn't know Todd had friends! You sure are full of surprises today." He stared at you again. For a super long time. You weren't sure what was going on in his brain. You touched your cheek, "Again with the staring. I think you're lying. I definitely have something on my face."

[adventuringblind]

Stash

Oscar Piastri x Autistic Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: Oscar confronts his lovers' weird habits for food storing.

Warnings: talks of eating disorders and past abuse

Notes: based on personal experience. My therapist says she's glad that I have an outlet. Apparently, writing myself into scenarios like this is healing. Who would've ever thunk it??

Masterlist

Oscar was prepared for a great many things when his girlfriend moved in with him. Things they had already talked about extensively. Like how she has her own routine that she follows, even if it doesn't feel like it. Or how she has sleeps on top of the duvet instead of under it.

Things that seem very minor to him. Apparently, other people have said it's weird, and she felt the need to warn him about her habits before moving in. She likes to communicate like that. Another thing he loves about her.

What he was not expecting was to find food stashed away in the most random places.

He didn't confront her about it at first. Maybe this is just a way she feels safe or a reminder to herself to eat something when she sees it. But then he started getting concerned when he wasn't seeing her eat at home.

She followed him around to races and could eat at restaurants, given she was with safe people who didn't tease her for being so plain. She ate snacks when she felt the need.

While she was out one day, he asked Lando over. The Brit was mildly confused as to why he was helping search the depths of the flat for food.

"You litterally have stocked cupboards."

"It's not for me! My girlfriend is stashing food around the house, and I'm trying to see if there is a pattern and maybe figure out why."

"Have you considered asking?"

"Not after she joked about her relationship with food."

Lando, who knows very well how hard eating can be sometimes, comes to the realization that there may be more to this then just sensory issues. Insecurity and scrutiny are hard things to deal with. He wouldn't be shocked if that's the reason she has foods she loves in places Oscar wouldn't find them.

Eventually they do find a pattern. It's not about where they are hidden, it's about what is hidden. It feels as if a child thought they were going to get in trouble for not asking to eat first. It's saddening to Oscar that his lover doesn't feel she can just eat normally around him.

"Do you know if she grew up doing this?"

"No clue."

~~~~~

When she got home that night, she found Oscar setting the table for dinner. Which is already odd considering they don't eat at the table. She hates eating at the table. It feels like she's being judged while she eats and makes her unable to think clearly.

But she would suffer through it. Why? because Oscar has made her comfort food, and it would be a crime not to eat with him after he did such a thing.

"What's all this for?" She asks while setting her things down.

"Well, I know you hate the dinner table, but we need to talk about something, and I thought comfort food and dim lighting might help the anxiety."

She takes her seat and thanks him for the gesture. The pit in her stomach aching with the thought of what he may want to talk about.

"So, your food stashing habits...."

Oh. Oh no. She'd been found out. She is going to get lectured just like she did at home. The one thing she was trying to desperately to avoid.

She drops her head in shame. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong, alright?" I just need to know why and if I can help. You're not eating full meals when we're home and the food your hiding makes me think your self-conscious. I just want you to feel safe here, with me."

She sighs. The female knew she would have to confront this eventually. It's not that she doesn't feel safe eating here, it's that these are learned habits that she has yet to unlearn.

"My parents would often get upset when I didn't eat what they made. It's not that I was being ungrateful, I just couldn't keep it in my mouth without gagging. Textures and things."

Oscar hums as he listens. He knows textures are hard for her. Food, clothing, even certain blankets are hard for her to feel.

"My parents were also always talking about my eating habits. So, to avoid being scrutinized, I would hide food in my room to eat when nobody was around."

Oscar is a soft person. Easygoing, quiet, and according to Lando, boring. In this moment he is none of those things. He feels for his lover that she doesn't feel safe eating at home because of her parents.

Thus enters a time of Oscar warming her up to eating in the house. Not just small things, real meals and snacks and simply whenever she's hungry.

It's definitely a slow process. Oscar still finds food in strange places occasionally, but he leaves it and reminds her that it's okay to put her food in the cabinet.

He never makes a mention of what she's eating. Even if he's just curious. He never talks about it.

Eventually, she starts putting her food in the cupboard. conversations about food become a little easier and doesn't send her into a flurry of insecurity.

Every little step counts, and Oscar is proud of her for every single one she takes.

[thegnomelord]

hi gnome! Had a few thoughts about Hound that I felt the need to share:

I feel like Hound needs to do something to keep their head occupied after they’re taken from Makarov. Let it be doing the dishes, folding laundry, anything to keep their mind busy. Because god forbid they have to sit in silence (like u said). They hate silence so much, boredom gnawing at their mind makes them go crazy. They need to do something, anything to stop thinking about Makarov/ their pain/ maybe their past too. Rehab is just constantly doing something. And it’s almost pathetic how often Hound appears in Price’s office, silently asking for anything to do. They pick up woodcarving maybe, because it’s an outlet for the violent desire to dig a knife into something, to carve and destroy.

I was also thinking: What if Hound doesn’t want to eat anything that tastes slightly like blood, or iron in that case? What if they’re so scarred from Makarovs ‘conditioning’ (torture) that blood tastes like acid, like poison to them? They get sick to their stomach when they smell iron, too. They can’t eat medium rare meat during rehab, it makes them wanna vomit.

Sorry if my English isn’t very good, it’s not my native language. And btw, I really love your writing style <3

Dude don't worry about it, I'm not native english either but your writing is great :Dd

You're deffo right about Hound needing to just do something. I feel like at first Hound wouldn't want to come to Price, Hound holds deep grudges and Price would need to come up with ways to help him indirectly.

I doubt anyone would let him near a knife at the start and even mid way through rehab. But Hound could probably get those stress toys you can squish. You through so many in a week, along with simple things like pencils or crayons; Cracking a pencil isn't the same as breaking a spine, clenching your fist around a squish ball until it pops doesn't feel as satisfying as it does when you crush a man's skull, but it satiates the violence in your marrow.

As for your second thing; I feel like it would be the opposite. Hound's so used to the taste of blood on his tongue that he can't go without it for long, it's like a drug. Blood is one of the few constants in his life(besides death and pain), something that he knows will happen again and again so he feels safe when there's a coppery taste in his mouth. Be it eating raw steaks or just biting at his own flesh until it bleeds, Hound needs blood.

[porkcutletbowl44]

Tags!: MDNI🔞, mutual voyeurism, comfort

(my smut skills are rusty, it's been some time, mostly just practice)

Another note, this is unrelated to Far From Perfect, I just need an outlet because I'm ovulating

Keegan P. Russ x reader

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Everything might have just changed permanently, he fears.

Not even 15 minutes ago there was fire and passion, lips and teeth, the taste of skin and leftover sweets from lunch, months of contained lust spilling out in messy bursts, eager touches and labored breathing.

And now? Silence.

You are curled up on the other side of the couch in the corner in a tight ball, wearing one of his shirts and your panties, your eyes cast downward.

Fear? Embarrassment? Anxious? maybe all.

Keegan glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, trying and failing to act as if he wasn't paying attention, how can he not pay attention to you?

He's smoked his cigarette and was halfway through a second one now. The silence is deafening, but the TV in front of you both was on for white noise; a reality TV show running about the lives of rich people, who are now bickering over something stupid like what brand new car to buy and add to the collection.

He tried to pretend like he didn’t notice your hesitance, but that's asking a starving man to not eat. Every movement, every shiver of your body. He noticed it all, refusing to push you further past the limit you've reached.

He didn't want to scare you, or make you feel bad.

He also didn’t know why you backed out.

Keegan let out a sigh, placing the half-smoked cigarette in the overfilling ash tray, as he leaned back into the couch, running a hand through his hair to get it back into place, something you passionately ruffled into a mess.

"Baby," he muttered, turning his head to look at you.

Meekly, your eyes meet his.

Keegan’s heart almost breaks. He hated this. Hated seeing you like this, nervous and unsure, wary and skittish.

Usually you were strong, confident, and outgoing— but right now, you're none of those. He swallows the lump in his throat, slowly sitting up and placing a careful hand on your knee.

"Are you okay…?"

Keegan's frown matches your own as you worry your lip, still swollen from the usual make out session, you avoid eye contact. He lightly squeezes your knee, silently coaxing you to say something, when you won't under these circumstances.

"Listen."

Keegan slowly scoots closer, moving to press his hip against yours, looking down at you as you sit like a curled up, nervous animal.

"Did I pressure you?"

You shake your head, exhaling nervously.

"No, I'm sorry..."

Keegan scoffs. "Don't be sorry. If you didn't wanna, you didn't have to."

Despite his words, his stomach twisted. What if you were lying? He knew sometimes you did that to try and avoid upsetting him, or worrying him. What if you were playing two roles here, unwilling to face his concerns?

He could feel a sickening, cold chill of guilt settle deep into his bone marrow, wondering if he did push you. Did he do something wrong? Is there something you don't like?

His mind begins to whirl with thoughts like a storm: Was I too pushy? Did I go too fast? Did I say something wrong? Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?

Keegan thought he had been respectful, waiting patiently while you were comfortable.

He hadn't tried to push you, pressure you. But now he was worried that maybe he had. He had hoped you wanted this. That you'd be ready, as he was. After months of secret, testing the water touches, sneaking off like teenagers to get a taste of lips, he thought that now would be perfect.

He wanted this. To be physically intimate with you, to seal the deal into something more after months of slowly waiting.

But now?

Now he wasn't sure, and he felt like a fool.

"Promise to not be mad?" You whispered.

Keegan's jaw tenses, his nerves on full alert.

Oh, god. I did something. I pushed her, now it's all over.

Without a second thought, he quickly nodded. You uncomfortably shift in place, fingers wringing together. Immediately, Keegan's mind thinks of a million different reasons why you would be nervous.

Did you have a bad experience? Did something happen before you met him? Was it something he had done? Was it something he will do?

As you finally look at him, you're pumping with anxiety. "I have trouble,"

Keegan’s brows furrow together, head canting to the side like a confused puppy. What could you possibly ‘have trouble’ with?

"Trouble with what?"

You sigh, shoulders slumping in what he assumes to be reluctance.

"I don't have much... experience. And, I had to stop, because I can't... Finish,"

Oh.

Keegan’s mind instantly settles of all the worrisome thoughts, his shoulders sagging as relief washes over his body like a tidal wave. While he isn't the problem in this equation, you have worries of your own that dwarf his.

He wasn't the problem, thank god.

"Hey," he soothes, scooting a little closer. "It's alright. That's alright, baby."

"It's not," you almost cry, turning your head away.

"Yes it is," Keegan counters quickly.

He reaches out to gently grip your chin, coaxing your face to look at him. "You didn't do anything wrong, you don't have experience, that's okay. It's not a bad thing." he explains, leaning in to brush his lips against your temple.

Keegan hates everything about this— the embarrassment, the hesitation and anxiety you feel. How you must feel like something's wrong with you, is fucking jarring.

There's nothing wrong with you.

"I swear, it's okay." he softly reiterates, releasing your chin and wrapping an arm around your waist to scoot you on his lap.

"I disappointed you..." You mumbled, face planting into his shoulder in a lazy slump.

He'd never be, at all, disappointed in you.

For this? For something you can't even control, especially for your lack of experience? Not at all.

"No, no, you didn't." he immediately reassures, pressing a firm warm kiss onto the crown of your head, squeezing you tightly. He tucks his face down into the crook of your neck, gently nuzzling against your skin.

"Never. You could never disappoint me, baby."

He leans back into the couch, fingers pressed into the soft flesh of your hip, his chin resting on your shoulder giving side of your neck a trail of warm kisses.

"I don't care if you have experience or not. I don't care if we don't have sex," he murmurs beside your ear.

It was half true for the most part; he'd been dreaming of finally getting you in his bed, waking up to you, taking the next step in a relationship he was taking seriously for once. And if you didn't want that, or you still weren't ready, then no harm.

"As long as you're comfortable, I don't care. That's all I want.”

"But you will care,"

"No, I won't."

He gently grips your jaw to turn your face and face his, pushing your hair away from your face with his knuckles.

"As long as you don’t care, I won't care. I don't need sex. I just need you."

You pout, he sighs, his shoulders slumping, you're not letting this go or being reassured. He can't blame you, men are known for being needy, needing something tight and warm to dump their cum in and expect enthusiastic moaning in response.

"You're not thinking properly," he murmurs, "You're makin' a problem in your head when you're not thinking logically. Do you honestly believe I'd be mad at you because you don't have experience? Really?"

"I'm mad at myself, I do want to, but it's going to be the same thing every time..."

Keegan groans.

He knew it.

He knew you were thinking something you shouldn't have been.

"Don't blame yourself. You can't help it, and I'm not blaming you. It happens. I understand that. We'll figure it out. Baby, it doesn't bother me."

"It bothers me!" You correct frustratedly, "I want to have a sex life, I want to enjoy it like you can, I want... I want what I can't have,"

Keegan's chest twists into a knot of pain, your confession is raw and honest.

It's insane hearing you speak like this, how you're getting down on yourself, thinking you can't do something or that something isn't right with you.

The first step is making you feel better.

The second is helping you feel good.

And maybe, some wisdom can help.

"Hey, look at me," he whispers, gently tipping your chin up. "It's not just about gettin' off."

Your eyebrows knit tightly, "what?"

He gives a slight scoff, gently rubbing the nape of your neck.

"It’s not about the end. It’s not about gettin' off. That's just the bonus. It’s not the main goal." he states matter-of-factly, lightly squeezing your hip. "You think that you're not satisfying my needs by not having an orgasm, but you are. You're pleasing me. You're makin' me feel closer to you."

"But that's..." You faulter, confused.

You must think it's supposed to be like porn or some shit. Like you're supposed to feel what they are acting, what isn't real. Shame on the ones who didn't treat you fairly, shame on them.

"But what? But how? Don't tell me no one's taken the time to do what you like." he echoes, lightly rubbing your hip.

What you need to understand, is to get out of your own head for a while. That's one of the problems, you're thinking too much about it. You are too caught up in your head, the what if's, the how's, all of that needs to leave you conscious.

"Do you want to know what actually does get me going?" he murmurs, leaning in to brush his nose against yours.

"It's how you smile at me," he confesses, his fingers tracing over your spine, rubbing small circles, "The way your laugh makes me laugh. The way you look, the way you talk," his voice drops an octave lower, the words coming out like a grumble. "That's what makes me want you, and those small things are better than an orgasm."

"So you just pop a boner every second I'm here?"

The bark of laughter that escapes is true and gravelly, a slight chuckle bubbling in your own throat. And, yes, you are correct.

"You make it sound so crude," he retorts, "but I ain't gonna lie. I do get hard for you. Lots. Especially with the way you dress, and the things you do, even if you're just going about your day."

His fingers trail up and down your spine, tracing the outline of your shoulder blades. He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, enjoying the intimacy of just holding you.

"Being hard is just a little reaction, baby," he murmurs, lips lightly brushing against your neck. "It doesn't mean it has to lead to something."

"I want something like that with you, though,"

Keegan frowns.

"You already have something like that with me," he soothes, placing kisses down your neck, lips pressing against your racing pulse. His hand slides up under your– his –shirt to rest against the small of your back.

"I told you, you're already pleasing me. I get like this without you trying to do anything." he murmurs in your ear, gently nipping your earlobe. "It just happens, baby."

You let out a ragged sigh in frustration, and this time you are trying to focus to his satisfaction. "No, Keegan, I want to sleep with you,"

You want him.

It awakens something in the deep, dark recess of his mind. A low growl echoing in his ribcage, ricocheting off the columns of bones, a beast coming out of a deep hibernation with an insatiable hunger shows it's ugly head.

"Yeah," he exhales, shifting in his seat, trying to ignore the way your words and bluntness are stirring something in his gut.

"That's obvious." he breathes.

"And it makes me think I'm selfish to say that I won't get anything out of it, because my body doesn't want to cooperate."

Keegan's eyes soften, the sight of you being like this cutting through his feels like a knife. He looks at you for a moment, silently trying to think of what to say. To reassure you, to comfort you.

To whoever hurt you like this, death is too kind of a sentence.

Then he lifts his hand, gently running his knuckles down your jaw, "You aren't selfish for wanting something. Nothin's wrong with you— there ain't a person alive who works perfectly."

You're going to keep blaming yourself, he knows it.

He knows you’re going to continue to tell yourself that there’s something wrong with you, that you won’t satisfy him, that you’re a disappointing partner and will continue to feel this way until you snap.

You won't break while he's around.

He won't let you be like this.

He has an idea.

"Listen to me, angel." he rasps.

He cups your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. His thumbs gently graze your cheeks, forcing you to pay attention to him.

"You're gonna do it."

Do what? The question sits on your tongue before it's squashed out of existence as he lays you against the arm of the couch, his legs prying yours apart to lay opposite of you.

"I'm going to teach you something," he grunts, settling on his back while you're splayed out half on his lap like a silver platter.

"Show me what you like."

"Like...?" You prompt tensely, fingers curling into the hem of his tee sprawled on the top of your thighs.

"I'm serious," he responds, his hands slowly trailing up your leg, fingertips brushing over the outside of your thighs. He gently pushes up the fabric of his shirt that you're wearing, your pretty panties on full view for him to see again.

"I'm completely serious. I wanna know what you like, baby. This," he grabs the inside of your thigh, giving it a squeeze, "—its all about connection. Not the sex itself. It's trust,"

You squirm under his gaze, your skin painting with color, teeth capturing your swollen lips- oh, Keegan's always had a thing for the shy ones.

"You want me to—"

"Touch yourself."

He slowly drags his hand down to your knee, pushing it further away, tucking the bend over a thick thigh. His touch is careful, and his words come out low and quiet. Hungry.

"I want you to show me. I want you to trust me enough to show me what you like. Tell me. Guide me."

For a moment, you just blink and stare in shock. He just rubs his hand up and down your calf, trying to bring you out of your stupor. This, the problem, is that you think too much. You're over complicating something that is meant to be fun, something that can be amazing.

"Hey, hey." he calls, giving your calf a small squeeze. "Don't get lost in your head, baby. Come back here. Just nod and then tell me. I won't even touch you,"

The trepidation in your eyes holds you back, the cogs churn in your head, a dozen thoughts flashing through. You need to trust him with this, but he also understands that he shouldn't push you. He can't push you and he won't.

"It's just me here, baby. Just wanna watch, that's all I'll do." he reassures, "Nobody else. It's just us."

Your skin is silk under rough callouses, like a calm night in the ocean pushing against the barnacle riddled hull cutting through in a choppy push and turn.

"Don't think, just follow what feels right. I won't pressure you or touch you unless you want me to. It's all up to you. Can you do that for me, baby?"

And then the moment of truth, you nod.

"Good girl." 

Keegan gives a slight nod, his expression struggling to hide his excitement, the curiosity for something new. He gently grabs both of your thighs, coaxing you to bring your legs up until your feet lay next to his ribs. From his angle he can see between your legs, that small wet spot at your slit already forming, he's becoming hot and heavy at the mere sight.

"Just relax," he mutters, "Just relax, baby. I just want you to feel comfortable."

You hum quietly, moving with his guidance to situate yourself.

"That's it," he whispers, his breath coming out in a deep exhale.

His hands slide down your soft thighs, watching intently as you make yourself comfortable, your body open and exposed to him. You squirm your back around, elbowing the pillow behind you to lay comfortably on a even surface. Your hips wiggle down, accommodating for his wide man spread.

God, this: seeing you like this, the way you trust him, the way you listen to him. It makes his heart race to no end.

"Alright," he murmurs. "You're all done? You're comfortable?"

You nod again, your face tucked down as it turns a warm, deep red color from the exposure and sheer shyness of the exposure.

"Look at me," he quietly reminds you. "Stay here, don't get lost in your head. You're doing good, baby."

You exhale softly and nod, limbs going lax over his legs.

Keegan's eyes rake over you, taking in the sight of your bare legs opened for him, your thighs trembling softly around firm muscle prying them open. His hands glide over your calves, fingers tracing along the soft flesh.

"Fucking beautiful like this," he murmurs, the comment slipping from his lips before he can even realize it.

He bites the inside of his cheek, silently scolding himself for his outburst. He not trying to scare you, doesn’t want you to think he’s some perverted freak. He might be, with you. He just thinks you look amazing like this.

He rubs his hand up and down the inside of your calf, hoping to distract you so he can get his bearings.

"So smooth," he comments, shifting his hips, "No razor burn."

He watches as your hand drifts down the front of the shirt you’re wearing, tracing down your stomach to the waistband of your panties. He swallows hard, thoughts becoming dirtier by the second.

"I want you to take the shirt off," he instructs rough and deep, a way to gather himself before the show starts, "I want to see you."

A low growl vibrates in his throat as you pull off his shirt, tossing it to the floor. His eyes rake over every exposed inch of skin for the second time, drinking in the sight of you like a starving man.

It's just as good as 20 minutes ago, seeing you shirtless for the first time and this is just as good.

He lets out a shaky pant, his hand gripping the edge of the couch cushion as he forces himself to stay still.

"God, look at you." he whispers, his eyes roaming over your breasts heaving with your breathing.

Keegan's eyes are snap to your hands as they go to your panties, watching as your fingers lightly dip beneath the edge of the lacy waistband.

He keeps his lips pressed tight together, forcing himself to remain still and quiet. A quick rush of excitement and anticipation swirls inside of him, stirring up his insides.

"Slide them down." he instructs in a rough and gravelly strain, "Slowly, take them off, baby."

Your fingers push them down over each swell of your hips, hooking off your ankle for his greedy hand to snatch them away from you, stuffing them unceremoniously into his pocket.

He returns his hands to rubbing your legs, trying to soothe and distract you so you’re not so shy and uncomfortable.

"So good to me," he murmurs, shifting in excitement. "You’re doing so good."

You shiver under his hot touch, the gentle brush of his fingers sending tremors through you.

"So goddamn sexy, baby," he whispers, squeezing your thighs. His gaze rakes down your now-naked body, his dark eyes drinking in your glistening pussy.

He knows he's losing control. He's slowly becoming more impatient. He wants to touch you, to take you, but he has to remain vigilant. Has to do this for you.

He has to hold back his base primal instincts. He can’t remember the last time he was this excited, this turned on.

You look so goddamn beautiful.

Your fingers shyly touch, aware that there is an audience as you play with your slippery folds.

Keegan has almost turned into a statue, his body unmoving save for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He watches intently, his hands clawing into his thighs to keep himself under control.

You're so unbelievably wet, and he promised to not touch you and he hasn't, and you're wet.

He’s almost aching to, so tempted to take over, to bring you the pleasure he knows you want, what he knows he can bring.

For now he can imagine your hand has his.

"Go on." he murmurs, his voice thick, "just go slow for me, baby. I'm right here."

Your fingers push your folds apart for him, your hood pulling back to expose that oh so sensitive clit poking out. Your labia slumps to the side, your drooling hole leaking everywhere—

Keegan purrs in need, at least he gets to see your bare cunt like this for the first time. Every tease, every ghosting touch, he imagined as his own.

You let out a shuttering breath as you circle your clit slowly,

"Y-You're just gonna... Sit there?"

He wants to touch you, to replace your own fingers with his, that is something he will confidently admit.

A low guttural growl rumbles deep in his throat, his breathing becoming more and more ragged. This was a bad idea. He should've just picked you up and brought you to the bedroom, took it much slower, gave you all the attention you need, not done this.

He didn't realize how torturous and good this would be.

"Yes," he grits out, his eyes glued to your fingers. "Just watching you."

Your fingers trace down to your hole, curling in only to cover it from his eyes.

He tears his gaze up to you like a heavy weight with a heated look, "Unless you want me to do something?"

He does want to do something, to touch you and give you the sex you deserve, but this is for you. This is to see what you like, how you react to things, how you want it.

He's doing this for you.

He's doing it to please you.

"Relax. Do what you'd normally do. What you like, feels good doesn't it, baby?" he rumbles. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, trying to ease the dryness in his mouth.

Your hips jerk up softly, the length of your finger grinding up and down, up and down, slow and rhythmic, every pass of your second knuckle brings a twitch to your thighs.

"Can you... Do it too?" You breathe, forcing your eyes to stay open as your fingers work.

A small smile stretches across his features, a thrill of excitement running through him at your request.

"I'm gonna need a little more than that, baby," he growls, his eyes struggling to decide looking at you, your hand, and your absolutely soaked pussy, "Say exactly what you want me to do."

You whine, "Touch yourself too,"

A shudder runs down his spine at your words. This…this is not how he thought this would go. He didn't expect the roles to be reversed, to be the one being put on the spot like this.

The thought of you watching him as he touched himself…

"Fuck," he grunts gruffly, his cock twitching against the inside of his waistband.

He palms himself as his head dips back, growling lowly. He just needs a moment to collect himself. He just needs one moment of clarity.

Finally, after a few tense seconds, he looks up at you, undoing the button and fly to tug himself out. He definitely didn't think this would be how you see him for the first time, but fuck it there's a first time for everything tonight now.

He's unbelievably hard. Tip tacky with smears of pre cum that's still drying on his hip, flushed red and angry, veins popping on the underside of his shaft.

You whimper softly, fingers slipping down to collect slick and rotating back.

He lets out a harsh breath, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. He'd just need a little bit of stimulation, just something to match you.

"Give me some," he orders.

Your fingers delve into your folds, gathering what you can and coyly reaching for him, lathering his base up to the ridge of skin on the underside of his cock.

Keegan lets out a hiss, his eyes fluttering shut. The muscles in his abdomen flex hard as you touch carefully, a shudder running through his body at the contact.

He feels like he's going to bust any second.

Your touch was heavenly. He was aching and now your touch was just teasing him.

A low guttural growl emits from him, a deep rumble in his chest.

"Don't look away." he demands, his eyes locked on you like a predator and it's prey.

His hand closes around your wrist, stilling your movement for a moment.

"See how bad you've made me want you?" He rasps darkly.

He releases you, purring in satisfaction as your fingers work desperately on yourself, chasing that lightning bolt feeling deep inside your aching cunt.

"Do what you'd normally do," he instructs in a low rumble, his hand stroking in time with you. "I won’t move."

You've done a number on him, making him so hard he's almost about to cum at just the sight.

He wants to break.

He's just about reached his limit.

His muscles are tense and his blood is pumping, and it's taking every ounce of his restraint to not pounce and devour you.

He's in too deep now. He can't back out.

He's just got to see it through.

This is about trust and about letting you take control.

It's not unwelcome, but it is certainly different.

"I like watching this. Seeing you like this," he pants, his hand squeezing as he downstrokes hard, "So damn sexy, knowing you're all mine, huh?"

"Yours," you mewl, your hips straining up against your fingers.

Keegan's other hand is curled into a fist so tight he feels as if he might break it. He strokes himself tighter, ruddy tip peeking with every pass.

The sight of him makes you writhe in place, your fingers almost slipping off yourself with every frantic motion.

"Yeah, that's right," he grunts, shifting himself so he has a better view. "All mine. This is mine. Show me. Show me what mine looks like."

One dainty finger sinks into your far to empty hole, your slit stretching around the thicker base of your finger.

Every muscle in his body tightens, his eyes rolling almost to the back of his head. His hand speeds up as he watches it live, his breath turning into hot pants.

"Holy shit," he rasps, unable to look away how your finger tells him how tight you are.

His hips roll upward, aching for pressure, for someone to touch him. He's dying to be in you, to feel that tight heat.

"Yeah?" he breathes huskily, "Feels good? You like that angel?"

"So good, especially right here—" you whimper, palm angling down on hyper sensitive nerves.

He looks wrecked, he is wrecked, his mouth open and panting, his eyes locked on your body like a starving man.

"Show me, let me see more,"

"I-Its inside," you murmur meekly, your pupils blown wide, showing the pretty glimmer of tiny tears.

"Yeah?" he purrs hoarsely.

He shifts his legs wider and dips his chin down to watch you fuck yourself to him fucking himself. His brain is overloaded, completely overwhelmed. He's not sure how much more he can handle, how much more he can watch.

"How deep?" he growls, flaring tip coming into view as each tug pulls foreskin away.

Your thighs twitch, toes curling next to his waist.

"I can barely reach," you whimper.

A guttural sound emanates from his chest, his body almost trembling from the effort of staying still.

"Show me, baby," he instructs, "Show me how far you can reach."

His eyes are glued to your glistening finger as you lay it on your pussy, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, He's never seen someone like this wet before, this needy, for him. He's going to lose it, the control he's kept so closely being ripped from his grasp.

This was too much.

Having you so willing, so open. It's almost too much

All from him.

"Shit, I'd do anything to taste you. C'mon, don't stop now," he begs breathlessly.

This, you were driving him crazy, making him want to do things, say things.

He's never like this, normally in control of himself, but there is something about you that just makes his head spin, makes his control slip.

You're an image of pure lust and ecstasy, something for him to relish and drink in, and that's all he can do.

"Good girl," he croons roughly, "so pretty when you do what you're told."

He’s completely lost in the moment, his breathing heavy and ragged, the wet sound of your slick as lube for his cock, the soft feminine pants coming from you, this is the best he's had and he's not even fucking you.

"So good, aren't you?" he rumbles, his eyes locked on you like a hawk. "You like this, huh? Tell me how it feels."

The sounds coming out of you have him absolutely weak he hasn't done anything to you, his head is almost spinning from lack of blood.

"S'good," you slur, the pads of your fingers pressing into your bud harder.

He pants and grits his teeth at the sight, resisting the urge to move closer to you, fuck you with his fingers, his cock. His eyes are hooded, his gaze dark and heated as he watches you, a low guttural growl purring in his chest.

"Yeah?" he grunts, his body trembling with the effort to remain still and not cum. "Keep going, you gotta tell me more than that."

Keegan is a man of straight to the point. Always has been, needing direct and clear.

You gasp softly, your hips canting against your fingers, "Feels s'good I wanna... Put your cock in my mouth and.. play with myself,"

His body jerks and trembles when your words ring in his ears.

"Oh fuck." he hisses, his head tossing back.

He loves watching this, seeing you tease and play like he's not there.

He's never heard you this vulgar before, this crude, he's pushed you so much to this point.

He doesn't mind it though, in fact he thinks it’s beyond hot.

"You want that? You gotta come first," his hand pumps faster.

You whine, "yes,"

His hand is almost a blur, his eyes glued to you. His head struggling to not roll back.

"You're so damn close baby," he croons. "I can see it. You just gotta let go." He pants, swallowing hard.

The pressure is building, rapidly, unstoppable.

"Stay with me, alright? Keep going, just focus, you're doing so good,"

Two of your fingers rub furiously at your clit, moaning and watching his fist tug himself off to you.

"Don't look away," he warns, his voice gruff and thick. "Keep those eyes on me."

He's barely holding it together, barely holding himself back as he watches you. He's completely captivated, unable to look away.

"Just a little more," he rumbles, his hand working in time with your own, "You close?" He almost mocks.

"Yes," you whimper, legs shaking and flexing.

"That's it, baby, I can see it," he groans, his hand pumping faster. "You're almost there."

He's almost delirious, so lost in the moment he's not even caring that he's dry jerking.

Your fingers circle twice more, a breath stuttering in your lungs, eyebrows scrunching, and oh— there it is.

It's pure, raw bliss on your face. Your eyes screw shut, your thighs shake on top of his, your hole fluttering around nothing—

That does it for him.

With a throaty groan he creates a tight fist over his cock head, cumming messily and seeping out through his fingers on his stomach and soft patch of hair below his navel.

“Goddamn," he murmurs roughly, watching as your body quakes and trembles with pleasure. "Good girl, good girl," he praises with heavy grit in his voice, his hand slowing with every pulse of his cock.

The look on your face is one of pure bliss, of pleasure. He's absolutely enamored by it.

"Come here," he rumbles, reaching out for you. He pulls you to him effortlessly, placing you between his legs.

His skin is burning, his drive to show you how good you are, how good you did overpowering all logic. He grips the back of your neck, fiercely kissing you with fervour.

"Did so fucking good, angel."

You melt against him, ass perched in the air chest to chest and kissing him back. He grabs a handful of your hair, tilting your head to kiss you deeper and knead one of your ass cheeks.

"How'd you like that?" he rasps as he continues to kiss you, nipping softly along your jaw.

He can't stop his hands, they're roaming and touching you everywhere they can, pushing your tits up to sit in his palms, finger dimpling into your soft waist, his tongue licking into your empty maw.

"Believe me now? How perfect you are?"

You moan brokenly against his lips, and just like that he's hard again.

[changbinsboobs]

Do you think any of skz has potentials of becoming yandere or like obsessed in general?!

Omg i can't believe what just happened Tumblr deleted my whole Chan reading i habe to do it all over again😭😭😭😭😭 and i don't have the cards anymore😭 i fucking hate it here😭

Who in Skz has a potential of becoming obsessed?

Chan - his reading was so long im so angry😭 what i said was basically how he has a lot of responsibilities and things to do that have way more weight and importance for him so there's not enough time or space in his mind to even begin obsessing iver other les simportants tuff. Even if he would he would quickly be taken out of it as more importants stuff already knocks on the door. Aside from that his job is actually a great outlet for him and despite him being very perfectionistic and a workaholic which in itself is not healthy - this card still points out how music and creativity is what brings him pease and is a source of release for him so i kinda get him why he's so focused on work and drowns himself so much into it - because for him its not work its his peace, its his joy, his relief. So yeah not seeing any potential for becoming obsessed or yandere cuz he has an outlet to channel any unwanted emotions and he also has many other much important things to take him out if other spirals he might come into so he doesn't even get the chance to become obsessed.

Lee Know - for him im not getting that either. He also has better things to do. He knows bery well what brings him joy and how to put himself back on track and regulate his emotions to stabilize himself. I don't see anything going out of control, spiraling, or whatever. Also if he were to be rejected, instead of going after that thing/person even more, hold grudges etc - he's more someone that stays in the shadows, takes it like a champ, cries on his own, oats himself on the back and continues on, maybe with some hurt inside him still but he goes on not really looking like it affected him. And soon the hurt gets relieved too, instead of it he fills himself with good things and soon the hurt is forgotten. In short - he accepts his fate and moves on. Not seeing anything about dangerous obsession.

Changbin - not seeing anything like that with him either. Spoiler alert - not seeing that with any of the guys actually. But for changbins case he does ponder on things more, probably takes much longer for him to swallow rejection, or abandonment or similar. He does think of it a lot, may even get gloomy or depressed for a little while. If we're talking about obsession in terms of not being able to get something out of your head then yeah he shows that definitely. But nothing that exceeds the mind and turns into action, also nothing harmful or dangerous in any way. He just thinks about what ifs and analyzing what went down, why it happened like that, etc. He always finds himself at the end tho, and finds peace and stability within himself and finds love and joy around him, often hurts like that fueling him even further for life, making him feel even stronger and more determent to be even bigger and even better.

Hyunjin - not seeing that with hyunjin either. Im seeing childish wonder and disappointment next to each other. I believe this means his naivety and readiness to jump into things and love fast and easily is often a source of depletion and disappointment for him. Either he becomes disappointed cuz whatever he liked isn't actually the way he thought and his expectations aren't met, or whatever attachment he felt wasn't reciprocated. For that im seeing victim complex and visciousness in terms of coping so instead of becoming obsessed and dangerous he rather becomes bitter and maybe even a bit hateful for a period of time towards that person or situation, being sharp and merciless with his words, holding tight onto the feeling that he was wronged and betrayed, being a victim of someone heartless that now deserves to bear the heaviness of his disappointment and wrath. Despite that not sounding very not-obsessive, the energy here doesn't seem really dangerous or malicious. Its more annoying that dangerous (if you're on the receiving end).

Han - here is the only...concern i had. The energy isn't very heavy, theres not any...dangerous action per say...but this is the only pile where i feel malisciousness in any way. Where theres potential that it COULD get to an extreme. Thats the only pile that gows beyond the mind or beyond words and im actually seeing readiness for action. This tho touches more on anger rather on anything and as for the most the heavy emphasis was on romantic relationships, here im not seeing that at all. Im seeing him wanting revenge on people that have disrespected, wronged, ridiculed him etc. he wants them to pay the price for their wrongdoings and is ready to take it in his own hands or leave someone else taking care of it for him. Now if thats something he just wants to do in a moment of anger or if he really has potential to take revenge in his own hands is unclear and i think ill leave it like that. Going back to the initial question - this doesn't give yandere vibes, maybe not even obsession - it just gives innability to regulate anger properly (honestly i feel u buddy) and maybe even overreacting with his anger in that sometimes its something small t he gets a huge tantrum and is ready to fight and its reslly inappropriate. Or something happens in 2022 and for some reason he failed getting angry back then so he carries his anger all this this time and suddenly this issue gets brought up again in a completely normal manner and "out of nowhere" he bursts out in an angry outrage and throws a tantrum. Or is continuously viscious towards someone for no apparent reason because once 10 years ago that person made a comment about his new haircut that he didn't like and he felt vulnerable and he's been making that person pay for the last 10 years cuz it hurt him so much back then. - all of those were just made up examples to describe what i mean by paying back, holding on grudges etc.

Felix - No. Not at all. He takes it all like a champ and i see him looking for support and connection with the people around him and he balances himself out like that, im also seeing him having some sort of innate yin and yang balance in him, in the way that he has of both good and bath, in a perfect balance. Idk how to explain that energy as it is so unique but in short im not seeing bad intentions, obsessive dangerous tendencies or anything. He seems very connected to the divine and has an innate compass of wrong and right, can regulate himself pretty quickly IF the crowd he's surrounded with is good (which for now im seeing it is). And any rejection or hurt or whatever that happens - he takes like a champ.

Seungmin - not seeing that here either, although he's not really answering my question. He says he's graceful and a respectable gentleman (im seeing bridgerton men😂) He says he's a lover and theres no usw for him to act crazy or be maliscious. He's of good value and he can get himself somethign good with ease so theres no use waisting prescious time and energy, lowering himself beyond his own standards.

I.N - not seeing anything like that either. He seems very peaceful and stable despite what. He has a strong, secure and very stable inner core that can not be shaken easily. He has a very positive and uplifting attitude towards life and himself and chooses to see the positive rather than the negative. He actively chooses good and maintains and builds this beliefs and this huge fort he's standing on. Build with trust and smiles and laughter. Those are very very positive, good & stable cards idk what else to add i really don't see anything of that sort with him. Not even potential for that. Not even potential for thinking about it even i think doesn't understand that at all how some people can get themselves to a point where they act like that.

[f0point5]

"Max's comments about British bias is so weird. I really like Max, and I think he is a talented driver, but his behaviour over the past few weeks hasn't been okay. You'd think, from the way he's acting, that the points gap between him and Lando was only a few points. Yes, mathematically, Lando still has a chance to win the wdc, but realistically, we all know it's a stretch- even lando admits this.

For Max and red bull to feel so threatened that they're talking about landos mental health, claiming Oscar dosen't deserve to be second driver (discussion already heated as it is without Maxs comments on it) and even admitting to crashing Lando out to prevent him from winning ... for what?

I get that to win, you need to be ruthless, but this feels unnecessary and unprovoked because Max driving alone would be enough and also he has his whole team helping him to win wdc without a doubt. It's not like Lando is out there in the media claiming he's the best in the world. In fact, the media often uses every opportunity to criticise him or protray him in a negative light.

Contrary to max's comments about the media and FIA being biased towards British drivers like Lando, this just isn't true. maybe after Miami there was optimism, but with all the missed opportunities, the media narrative shifted quickly, focusing on Lando's bad starts.

After Hungary, every media outlet was discussing how Oscar doesn't deserve to be second driver and how good he is compared to Lando, and how mclaren is refusing to prioritise lando. they questioned his championship mentality, despite his consistent performances. And aside from Zandvoort and Singapore, there was more talk about his mistakes and narratives being used for clickbaits.

media bias in sports isn't new. durch media will focus on Max, Australian media on their drivers, and british media on theirs. this is expected. you could argue that British media has a larger international reach, but thats beyond any athletes control.

example: sky Germany constantly talks about Nico Hülkenberg, or the chances of Mick Schuhmacher, and sometimes even missing race action to cover him.

However, using "british bias" as a defence when he was clearly in the wrong, and in the same breath throwing lando to the wolves and disregarding real bias against other poc driver on the grid, is just not okay. Not all drivers have the privilege of being white male with a dutch passport. maybe I'm exaggerating, but as poc myself, it really weird that Max used this as a clap back for something he himself admitted to doing - trying to prevent Lando from winning.

everyone talks about British bias and how "unfair" it is for Max and it is, the British media talked bad about him especially in the being of his career and him winning and Im not denying that but a few acknowledge the racism and bias faced by other drivers. I don't think these comments are funny or make a good clapback. and for a fact I know that if Lando said a similar thing, the reaction would have been entirely different.

Because Max is a little bitch who lashes out every time he's under pressure. As is a staple of his career. But since his "lashing out" is being overtly aggressive and an arrogant asshole, it's viewed as "woooo that's why he's a champion" instead of weakness."

I honestly do not understand how people cannot see that there is a clear bias towards Max. For a fan base that says the hate towards Lando needs to stop but has absolutely no issue throwing it towards Max the hypocrisy at its finest.

Oh lorddd.

First, no one talked about Lando’s mental health. Your competitive mentality is NOT the same thing as your all around mental health. You can be the happiest most well adjusted person in the world and a competitive environment and pressure can just get to you. Sure, your psychology influences and impacts how you deal with stress and failure and success and all that. But saying Lando cracks under pressure is not the same as ragging on his mental health.

Oscar is a good driver…what was the harm in recognising that? Also, Max doesn’t owe it to McLaren not to share his opinion so as not to upset whatever disaster they have potentially simmering over there?

And Max did not admit he crashed Lando out because he didn’t crash Lando out. They did not make contact. Lando finished second. So…that just straight up didn’t happen. But that “for what” 😂 for…the championship? Please god open the schools.

British bias is real, every single driver who is not British and winning has talked about it. The fact that everyone just accepts it as standard because the brits have basically a monopoly on broadcasting rights is actually mental. And yes it’s the same in every country and in my opinion it’s moronic in every fucking language. But it’s exponentially worse when Sky Sports is the main broadcaster, and when the F1TV pundits are all incredibly biased. F1TV is not a National channel, no it should not be “expected” that they border on unprofessional in the way they talk about certain drivers. they should not be allowed to be biased, in my opinion. I should not know that Jenson Button wants to lick the soles of Lando’s shoes. And mind you, I think both Sky Sports and F1TV presenters have been unprofessional even when they talk about British drivers, at some points, but to nowhere near the extent of the way they talk about Max. That’s why the only one I respect is Nico Rosberg because he is genuinely an equal opportunity hater.

Also, Max can talk about whatever the fuck he wants. The microphone is in front of him, not anyone else, so while you don’t have to agree with his opinion, it’s a take it or leave it thing, there is no third option to demand he say something different.

And in conclusion, yeah when Max is Max people say “he’s a champion” because he fucking is. In 2016/17/18 they were calling dangerous and crazy. And then it turned out what he does works for him. See how when you succeed you earn the right to do what you want, because people trust your process? (Brits don’t get it because for some reason they think their way will always prevail in the face of reason and results that say otherwise) “lashing out under pressure is a staple of his career”…so is performing under pressure. Not everyone can say the same.

He requires no defence, just look at the record book.

Maybe it’s just me, but despite the hate against Max being awful and just as uncalled for as the hate towards Lando…I kind of find it so much less impactful. You can’t really gain ground hating on a guy who has done exactly what he wants to do in the sport. So you think he’s an asshole…and what? Is that a crime? Is that relevant? Who even cares? Certainly not him. They just look so bizarre to me. I can’t fathom thinking someone should care what I think about their behaviour any more than I can fathom caring what someone thinks about mine.

Lol that quote was a deep dive into the mind of a parasocial for sure.

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Reader

Summary: It's your job to translate. But when Jake asks for private Spanish lessons, it complicates things. You try to fight it, but one night the fight gets all too real. And you realise you need him more than you ever thought you could.

Trigger Warnings: Mild S/H. Physical Violence. Full penetrative sex. Foreplay including oral. All the usual smut warnings.

"En español, Jake!" You admonished, tapping your finger down onto the page with vitriol.

He looked up at you with a frustrated sigh. As if the words were swimming around in his head but simply refused to spill out of his poised mouth.

"I'm so sorry." He apologised, slamming the book closed. "I just can't imagine why you haven't punched me in the face yet."

You had a little sympathy for him. Learning a new language in adulthood was fastidiously hard. You'd watched him for hours trying to curl his tongue around the way things were spoken in conjunction to how they were written down.

"The thought may have crossed my mind." You replied playfully, stashing the book back in your bag.

He watched you gathering your things together. Leaning back in his chair, arm draped casually down the back as you tried to pretend that you weren't aware.

"Why won't you let me take you out for a drink?" He asked, again, leaning forward onto the table. "It's just one drink, where's the harm?"

You slipped your bag over your shoulder and gave him the same balanced look you had given him all the other times he had tried to convince you to go out with him for a harmless drink.

"Jake, I can't keep doing this with you."

His arms were crossed as he leaned on the table. Long, lithe fingers locked together as he tried to downplay the disappointment. There was a sadness there in his eyes as he tried to smile.

"I know. I'm sorry, I just lose my head around you sometimes." He uttered, cracking his knuckles as he got up to walk you to the door.

You stopped in the hall to slip your shoes back on. Conscious of his eyes burning into the back of you. It would have made you uncomfortable were it not for the fact that every single time you had told him no a small part of you had died inside. These stolen moments where you knew he was studying your body were all you could enjoy.

When you turned around he was holding the door open for you. A thousand things on his mind that he ached to say, but couldn't.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this anymore." You suggested, "I mean, it was a crazy idea to begin with. I'm not a Spanish tutor, I'm your fucking translator. I'm already on the payroll. It'd be like dating my boss. You know that's why I have to say no, right?"

It was a downright lie.

He raised a hopeful eyebrow. "And not because you don't think I'm sexy?"

He was insufferable in the way you couldn't stand the fact he made you laugh. That had been the reason you had agreed to give him Spanish lessons in the first place. Because he had made you laugh with his goofy silliness. His self deprecating manner was endearing. And you hated him for that.

"Comportate, por favor." You told him, slipping out of the door before you changed your mind.

You weren't averse to dating rock stars. There had been times, in the past, where you had been hired to go on tour with artists who didn't speak the language of the countries they were moving through. It had been your job to liaise with concert venues, hotels and media outlets. Sometimes allowing yourself to be courted by these melodic creatures. There was something about musicians that drew you in.

Perhaps it was because they were poets. They valued art over everything else. To you, language was the most powerful art of all. To have the knowledge of words that could be understood the world over was truly a gift. And you could speak eight of them.

When Jake had asked you to teach him one of your gifts, initially you had balked at the idea. There was something about Jake that made you nervous. He made you feel like a song with just a fleeting glance. You weren't sure of yourself around him. It felt as if at any given moment something beautiful might happen. He wasn't a temporary fuck on a job you knew would only last a few weeks before moving on to the next. You knew, intrinsically, that if you allowed him to touch you there was no moving on from it.

He was peering at you from his porch steps as you got into your car. Patiently waiting until your seatbelt was on before waving sweetly. Like a Grandma would. Only stopping when you were out of sight.

"Damn you, Jake..." You whispered to yourself as you turned the corner, wishing you could rescind the past seven days.

~

You slammed the overhead locker shut and slumped into your seat below. Eye mask lingering on your forehead, ready to be pulled down so that the fluorescent lights on the plane didn't give you a migraine. Your skin was moisturised, your hair coiled in loose braids down each shoulder. Ready to sleep for the next eleven hours.

You watched the rest of the crew and management team take their seats. The unspoken rule of long haul flights being that nobody conversed. Nobody disturbed the other. It was a time to rest and reflect before chaos ensued.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked, swinging himself into the seat beside you before you could protest.

Your mouth agape, you watched him get comfortable in the space where you had planned to put your feet.

"Jake?" You sighed. "I thought you were sitting with your brothers up front?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I wanted to sit here, with you."

You were still waiting for him to embellish as he pushed his shoes off and stretched his feet out. He was wearing those blue jeans with the cut in the knee he had worn every day the previous week, with a ripped hem shirt that was only buttoned half way. His chains hanging against his flesh between the opening.

You wondered how a person could endure eleven hours in clothes like that, but Jake always seemed to put style over comfort. It was one of the first things you'd taken in about him. Every single facet of his being was a token of his personality. He was his own canvas.

You couldn't help but smile.

"Ok, fine." You allowed, "But we're not having an impromptu lesson or anything, I plan to sleep."

You slipped down your eye mask and tried to hide the fact you were terrified of flying as the plane took off. The rumble and strange loss of gravity churning your stomach as you gripped the arm rest. Only settling once you were in the air and the subtle sounds of people sleeping and turning the pages of books was all you could hear.

He kept silent while you slept. And when you awoke to find your legs splayed across his lap, you flinched involuntarily. His head snapped up from the back of his seat. Eyes wide and for a moment neither of you could remember where you were.

You weren't sure how you'd ended up in the position you found yourself in. If he had placed your legs there himself, in some act of kindness you'd not asked for. Or if you had done it yourself in your sleep, and he had simply allowed it.

"Sorry." You grumbled, taking back your feet and slipping the eye mask around your frazzled braids.

"You don't like flying, huh?" He asked, running a hand through his knotted locks.

You were quick to defend yourself. "What makes you say that?"

The most heart breaking memory seemed to come to him. Smiling as if he may never have that time back. You felt the blood rush to your head as he looked at you. His deep brown eyes catching yours for the briefest of moments.

"You reached out for me in your sleep." He replied, almost in sadness.

You blushed. Turning away from him hastily, busying yourself with the book on the small table in front of you. Feeling foolish. As if you had spoiled something already.

"I didn't mean to." You said quietly, fixating on the page without being able to focus on any of the words.

"You worry too much." He commented, straightening up in his seat to reveal that all of his buttons were now undone.

As he stretched, he revealed a smooth chest and small ripples of flesh around his stomach. The muscles above taut and lean from years of grinding into his guitar.

You excused yourself to the bathroom. Brushing past him as you climbed out of your seat. Feeling dizzy as you walked down the aisle towards the illuminated rest room sign.

Splashing your face with cold water did little to dispel your nerves. Staring at yourself in the mirror, telling yourself to hold your reserve. He didn't deserve to hold your attention like this. How had he crawled beneath your skin so easily?

It wasn't exactly love at first sight. But it was something akin. The first time you had spoken. You felt it. The ache. Like a little electric burn. Because of him.

You sucked in your breath and uncoiled your braids. Ran careful fingers through your hair until the waves were smooth. Reminded yourself that it was just another job. And walked back to your seat with irrational confidence that you could endure the rest of the flight by his side.

Confidence which ebbed as you noted the glasses of rum and coke sitting on the tray tables. The froth still fizzing on the surface of the ice. He was chewing on his bottom lip absently until he noticed you. Immediately stiffening as you breezed back into your seat. Looking slightly different than when you had left.

"You've hijacked me, you do realise that, don't you?"

He picked up his glass and raised it as if to make a toast.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about." He feigned. "I just thought you might be thirsty."

There was a devious glint in his eye. One which made you bend to his will. You picked up your glass and didn't really feel in the mood for rum so soon after waking up, but up in the air it didn't really feel like morning or evening. You were in limbo. The only place where you would ever agree to have a drink with him.

"This isn't a date." You confirmed. "This is not me agreeing to go for a drink with you. This is two colleagues having a drink on the same flight together."

It was precisely what he had wanted, packaged in another name. He knew it and so did you.

"Cheers." He said brazenly, tapping the rim of his glass against yours. "Here's to colleagues having a drink together."

You rolled your eyes. "We'll only ever be friends, Jake."

~

There was something oddly beautiful about silence. Music was the beating heart of the world. There was a song for every emotion ever felt by anyone anywhere. But when the music stopped, it was like the echo was felt universally. Bones and blood coming down from the euphoria. There was something about Jake that made it so hard to come down from.

You were standing behind the stage. The tones of the final note still playing out. Your eyes closed and your hands clutching a crisp white envelope tightly. The silence was deafening.

And then he was there. Peeling off his jacket. The sweat glistening in the stage lights. He handed his guitar to one of the stage technicians and noticed you waiting by the door. Not where you usually could be found.

"Buenas noches." You said, tilting your head as he approached.

"Evening." He replied, in English. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

You hadn't seen him all day. You'd been endlessly scrolling through potential activities for a day away from the stage. So rarely did these days come about, it had felt as if you had to find the most perfect venue. The tour manager had given you only three proviso's. Somewhere beautiful to film social media content. Somewhere all four of the band members could enjoy. Somewhere quintessentially Spanish.

"I think I've found the ideal place for your day off." You said, handing him the Vineyard confirmation.

He unfolded the paper and scanned the document. Looking up at you as if you were the most perfect creature to ever walk the earth. It dawned on you that you didn't have to be stood there in that moment, but you'd been so excited to tell him. Aching for a glimpse of him. Afraid that you wouldn't get one.

"A real Spanish Vineyard?"

You nodded. "And a tour of the distillery where they make brandy, too."

"This is perfect." He replied, eager to hug you but consciously aware that he was dripping in stage sweat. "And you'll be there, won't you?"

"Hardly be doing my job if I wasn't."

He lingered there with you. In the silence. The subtle reminder that you worked for him completely disregarded as he took the liberty of waiting until his brothers had walked past before shakily trailing his fingertips down the side of your cheek.

"Bello..." You heard him say, before he dropped his hand and you felt the absence of it so deeply you weren't certain how you could walk away from him and feel whole ever again.

You barely slept. Questioning yourself as you tossed and turned in the darkness. Irritated by the inner monologue that told you to re-think your outfit choice. It had to be light and airy for the warm sunshine. But not too revealing for the classy Vineyard aesthetic. You wanted Jake to look at you and think you pretty. But it couldn't be too obvious that you'd chosen the outfit just for him. Because you didn't want to choose the outfit just for him. You were consumed by the need for his attention. And hating yourself for it wasn't getting any easier.

The sleep deprivation hit you as you stepped out into the heat. Not yet noon and it was scorching down on your shoulders. The yellow sun dress which had been your fourth and final choice had tiny spaghetti straps that did little to protect your skin. Your white wide rimmed hat provided a little shade, but in the end you knew you'd walk away from the day with pink and red stripes.

You were already at the Vineyard when he arrived. Awaiting his arrival with the tour manager and social media assistant. Spilling out of the mini van, it appeared the sleepless night had been a friend to them all. Four sets of shades hid the dark circles. You couldn't help but smile ironically.

But they were like curious children as soon as the first taste hit. Jake, listening to the tour guide speaking a mixture of English and Spanish, turning to you for confirmation on anything he didn't understand. Swilling the wine in his taster glass, as he'd been instructed, endearingly involving himself even though you could sense that he was so tired.

You found some shade as the tour came to an end. Beneath a eucalyptus tree. Fanning your dress out as you sat on the little wooden bench under the arching branches. Watching Jake filming content with his brothers, happy to just be there. Relieved that your skin was not too sun kissed. The joviality of Jake and his brothers was a joy to behold. Their subtle differences in the way they reacted to each wine was comical and you found yourself drifting into a state of bliss you'd never found whilst on a tour job before.

He was wearing his shirt open at the chest again. Chains glistening in the afternoon sun as he came to sit with you. The entire group dispersing into their own little activities. He handed you a glass of red, noticing that it was the one you'd liked the most whilst on the tour.

"I feel as if I haven't seen you all day." He said, shuffling up the bench so that he was closer to you.

"I've been by your side the whole time." You replied bashfully.

He didn't seem to care, though. "I felt it yesterday too, when I actually didn't see you all day."

You took a languid sip, feeling the wine go down past the lump in your throat. His knee conspicuously close to yours. The fabric of your dress billowing in the breeze, threatening to lift and reveal your flesh. He noticed and pressed his leg against yours, the motion driving you irrevocably insane.

"What are you doing, Jake?" You asked, keeping your voice low.

You could smell the wine on his breath as he leaned in.

"How do you say... I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you can't stand up straight...in Spanish?"

The glass felt loose in your hand. As if his words had shaken your core and you couldn't ground yourself.

"Do you enjoy this?" You asked, more curtly than you'd anticipated. "Like it's not hard enough already?"

You'd hurt his feelings. All the happiness of the day seemed to drain from him as he moved his leg away. Another absence of his touch you felt so completely, it was as if you'd fade away entirely if he ever touched you again.

"Why do you constantly deny me?!"

He was livid. You could feel the bench move as he trembled.

"I could understand it if the feelings weren't reciprocated. I'd have asked you out, you'd have said no. Told me that you're not interested and yeah, it would have sucked and I'd have taken it on the chin. But I'm not stupid, I know you want me. And no amount of telling me that we're just friends is going to change that."

He downed his wine. You waited for him to get up and leave, but he remained at your side. A trembling mess as he waited for you to say something that might give him hope.

"You have no right to say that to me...no right!" You almost bellowed, feeling the rage prick at your fingertips. "When all I have done has been to preserve myself. And you. From hurt. And confusion."

"I'm not confused." He was quick to say, gripping the neck of his wine glass so tightly his knuckles turned white. "I know what I want."

"You think this is easy for me?"

You glanced across the courtyard towards the distillery where Jake's brother, Josh, was chatting with some of the staff. His eyes wandering back to you and Jake. His interest piqued as your voices began to rise above the din.

Jake's shoulders slumped. "It doesn't have to be this hard!"

You tried to smile reassuringly as you caught Josh's eye. He smiled back, returning reluctantly to his conversation. Suddenly everything began to turn into a surreal dream. Everything was perfect save for this one moment. You wanted nothing more than to turn back time, just by five minutes, and say or do something differently.

"I'm not about to complicate things for a quick fuck, Jake. I still have a job to do." You whispered, "I don't want to spend the next two weeks feeling like this..."

"Oh, what?" He replied, all the hurt you had caused him spilling out in his tone. "Like you've never fucked somebody on tour before?!"

There it was. All his hurt laid bare and all the hurt you had feared manifesting itself in the instant regret he felt as you turned to face him. All the times you'd rejected him kept in a little bottle in his heart, smashing there on the ground at your feet.

His head began to shake, his mouth open against apologies that wouldn't come out. His arms up in defence as if you were about to strike him. And all you could do was stare at him in disbelief.

"That's real nice, Jake." You managed, "Yeah. Ok, you want to play it that way? You're not wrong. I fucked a few guys on jobs in the past. Sure. They didn't care and neither did I. Why would it be awkward if you know you're never going to see them again? It meant nothing. What do you want me to say? That I'm terrified that this time it's different? That fucking you will never just be casual? That I know I'll fall in love with you the minute you kiss me? Huh? Is that what you want to hear? Stay the fuck away from me!"

~

You were still reeling as you stepped into the cool night air. Cardigan wrapped around you as the wind picked up. It was late but the hotel was situated in a sleepy little town ten minutes outside Barcelona. Lights were still twinkling in the distance. The faint sounds of people sitting outside bars and cafes sounding on the breeze. The gentle waves lapping at the shore in the pitch black.

You couldn't sleep again. Not plagued by irrelevant outfit choices this time, but instead you were horrified by yourself. By the way you had left things at the Vineyard. By how you had made your way back to the hotel without him. Not even looking at him when you'd seen him at dinner. You had felt his eyes burning into you, though. Losing your appetite entirely.

It felt as if a walk would clear your head. Bring you to some conclusion that would give you a reason to carry on. You'd been on the cusp of quitting and taking the next flight back to Nash before slipping on your sandals and cardigan and heading for the empty beach.

The sand was cool to the touch as you slinked down into it. The moon illuminating the curl of each small wave as it encroached onto the flat shoreline. The ever twinkling lights of the buildings which stretched across the coast were like stars upon the land. And you were lost in thought about Jake. About how you were going to make everything right.

So lost were you that you hadn't noticed that you were no longer alone. Catching them in the corner of your eye as they approached, as if they'd walked directly out of the black sea. A man, wearing nothing but a tattered white t-shirt and blue board shorts, waved to you inconsequentially.

You made the mistake of waving back. An impulse. Not an invitation to be disturbed. Your heart sank as they changed their direction, instead of carrying on across the shoreline, they diverted up the beach towards you. An errant smile on a bearded face greeted you as you tried to stand up.

"Oh, no. Please...stay where you are." He insisted, and you smiled because you thought he merely meant to pass you by.

When he didn't you felt yourself rooted to the spot. The darkness somehow darker than it had felt a moment ago.

"I was just leaving." You said as politely as you could.

He smelled like tobacco and body odour. The state of his feet alarmed you, as if he hadn't worn shoes for a very long time. He was sitting opposite you, as if you were friends enjoying an evening under the stars. But the hair on the back of your neck was poised. Your blood began to run cold.

"Oh, come on now." He replied, playfully with a hint of malice. "You're American, yes? I love America."

You had no desire to stay in his company. But something told you not to move. A primal instinct maybe?

"Uh, yeah." You replied, trying to keep your responses civil but brief.

He moved closer. His scent drifting in on the sea breeze. You recoiled. Feeling entirely foolish for stepping out of the hotel thinking you'd be safe.

"What's the matter?" He asked then, his voice low and gruff from years of smoking. "I just want to sit with you, alright?"

You uncrossed your legs. "I really...I was honestly just about to leave..."

He placed a dirty hand on your knee to prevent you from standing. You felt the fear grip you and choke you. Tears forming in your eyes as your lip began to tremble.

"Be a friendly girl and sit with me a while." He insisted. "I just want to talk to you."

He could see that you were afraid. Almost aroused by it. He moved to sit by you. Rubbing a calloused hand up your shin towards your knee. A broken scream was stuck in your throat. Warm tears streaming down your face.

"I have a boyfriend." You choked out, frozen into the sand as you willed it to swallow you.

"No boyfriend that I can see right now."

Something inside you snapped. The thought of Jake. Calling him your boyfriend. You didn't care about anything beyond him. Not your job nor the fears which you'd been running from. None of it made sense anymore. You could feel yourself begin to panic. Your chest moving against deep breaths. Your heart beating erratically.

You dared to push his hand away from you.

"I thought I told you to be friendly..." He hissed.

There wasn't a part of you that had any thoughts running through your mind as you heard the switch in his voice from playful malice to direct evil. You gathered the sand in your fist and threw it into his face, hearing him reel back and grunt in anger as you tried to run away.

Your sandals filled with sand though, preventing you from gaining any real speed. The scream which left you came from somewhere deep within, so blood curdling you weren't even sure it was you making the sound. It felt as if you dared not look back in case he was right behind you.

Three things seemed to happen all at once. The first was your body crushed to the ground. Sand in your mouth. The sensation that you were about to be buried alive. The second was the almost immediate release. Air rushing to your lungs as you swallowed the grit. And the third was Jake.

You stumbled onto your feet. Tears streaming down your face, spitting sand out as you felt yourself on the verge of vomiting. You blinked a few times, using your sleeve to wipe away the blurring tears.

All you could see was Jake. A pair of blue board shorts beneath him. His arm reeling back again and again and again as he rained down blow after blow.

"What the fuck did you do to her?!" He cried, cracking his fist against the bloodied face below him. "I will fucking kill you... I swear to god..."

You hadn't known Jake that long. But long enough to know he was loving and kind. That he chose to sit in corners and watch over being the centre of attention. He was funny and unserious in private with those he trusted best and stoic around people he didn't know. You'd never imagined he could be capable of such violence. When pushed, he was an animal.

"Jake!" You screamed. "Please, stop it!!!"

He didn't hear you at first. Picking up the guy by the scruff of his shirt, rattling his head before shoving it back into the sand. Landing a final, brutal kick to the stomach.

When Jake looked over at you, it was like he was seeing you for the first time. His chest heaving against catching his breath. His knuckles red and covered in blood. Not certain if it was Jake's blood, or the guy who was writhing around on the sand's. You reached for him.

But Jake didn't move. "Did he hurt you?"

You shook your head, feeling vulnerable in a way you'd never felt before.

"He started to but I ran. I'm so sorry, I was so stupid. I should have stayed in my room. I just needed to get some air...I can't believe this is happening...oh god, look at you..."

Jake noticed his hand. He shook off the blood and looked down at what he had done. The nose was broken and the eye sockets already swelling. Blood streaming from the guy's mouth. He spat a few teeth out and groaned in pain, clutching at his stomach as his white t-shirt turned red.

"No. You shouldn't have to stay in your room. You should be able to walk outside if you want to walk outside. It's fuckers like this who need to stay the fuck inside." He shoved his foot into the place where he had kicked, making sure to cause more pain. "Call the police."

"I can't." You sobbed. "They'll take you away, too."

He knew it as well as you did. They'd take him in. Question him. Stick an assault charge on him. You'd need a lawyer. You'd have to tell them what that disgusting guy had tried to do to you. You didn't want any of it. You just wanted to translate Vineyard tours, not police interrogations.

Jake leaned down and pressed his foot into the bloodied cheek.

"You better get the fuck out of here. I've got an entire security team in that hotel and they aren't little guys like me. They'll take you to fucking hell."

The adrenaline was still pumping as Jake stood back. Raking his bloody fist through his hair. Letting the guy stumble away, clutching his stomach as he spat blood onto the white sand. It wasn't until he was half way down the beach that Jake finally breathed. Letting out the most painful groan you'd ever heard. Your instincts telling you to protect him at all costs.

~

"What the fuck were doing out there?" You asked, cracking open the first aid kit in your hotel room. "Were you following me?"

He was sitting on the edge of the bed. Wincing as you knelt at his feet to wipe his hand with antiseptic. You held it within yours gently. Blowing cool air onto his grazed knuckles as you tried not to hurt him. You were still fighting back tears as you looked him in the eye.

"I didn't know you were out there." He said solemnly, tears of his own forming on the rim of his eye lashes. "I guess I had the same idea as you did. And then I heard you scream."

"What if you hadn't been there..."

You fell into his arms. Your entire body shaking as you sobbed. If you'd been afraid of loving him it felt so foolish now. You were consumed by love.

"I knew..." You tried to say, breathing hard against his bare chest.

You felt him cup your chin in his unspoiled hand. Forcing you to look at him.

"I knew from the start." You swallowed. "From the moment I saw you that I'd be fucked up forever. One look and I was gone. Washed away...in a landslide...because of your perfect face."

He fought against a smile.

"I knew you'd ruin me for anyone else." You said, "That's why I said no. All those times...no. How could I say yes to you? When saying yes meant I had to love you without fear."

He returned his fingertips to your cheek and you knew his touch was meant to heal you.

"Are you afraid now?" He asked quietly.

He was the kind of person that you knew you would end up falling in love with. You had perhaps always known it from the moment he was introduced to you. . There was a feeling which sat exactly right in your chest. You didn't want to ever say that you loved him for fear that he would leave. But you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you didn't want to spend your time with anyone else.

"I was afraid that you'd break my heart." You sighed, the shadow of that fear dissipating. "But not anymore."

"I shouldn't have said what I said earlier at the Vineyard. I was wrong to call you out like that. It's none of my business who you've fucked in the past."

You appreciated his apology, but it had little place in the moment. You would never truly understand what he had sacrificed that night. He'd never lost his cool like that, ever. He was sorry for the things which he had said, but there was no apology needed. Not after what he had done for you.

"It doesn't matter." You shrugged, pressed an ice pack against his hand as you flipped the first aid kit shut. "All that matters now, is us."

He took that as his permission to kiss you. Leaning in to it slowly. Keeping your eyes focused on his. Feeling the heat of his breath before his lips reached you. And when they did, your eyes were closed and his lips were soft against yours. They parted slightly, allowing for his tongue to slip into your mouth.

You knelt up to lock your arms around his neck. Bodies pressed together heatedly against each other. You could taste the shared breath. Feel the thud of your combined hearts. Fumbling to be free of your cardigan.

Heat blossomed in your chest. Sparks igniting as Jake pulled you closer against his open shirt. Tentatively, for the first time, he uttered your name as his mouth momentarily parted from yours before returning to you as if he hadn't whispered it at all.

"Jake..." You responded, breathy and almost too shrouded in whisper to hear.

But he did hear you. Gripping your hips tighter as he deepened the kiss. Pulling you up onto his body as he leaned back onto the bed, your legs parted on either side of his waist. Weeks of tension flowing out of both of you.

But nothing happened that night. The evening had caused an exhaustion which both of you shared as you slipped into the curve of his arm. Kissing him in small increments, stopping only to appreciate his face in the moon light which flooded in from the window. Caressing his bare chest, playing with his chains as he pressed his lips against your forehead. Your leg draped casually over his, tangled in each other for the first time.

There was no need for anything else. Loving him with abandon for all the accompanying things you'd told yourself. All the reasons you'd given yourself not to enter into this with him. Wishing that he had been your first love. So that you could have loved him sooner, instead of looking for malice in his pure intentions. Looking for ways to never have to give yourself to him. With Jake as your first love, you would have only known love to be like velvet.

But he wasn't. He was going to be your last love, you knew you would die to make that happen.

~

Jake kept his busted hand bandaged up the next day. Telling anyone who cared to ask that he had dropped his guitar case and fucked up his knuckles trying to save it. It was an unlikely story, but nobody dared to question it. Least of all the security team that would have been heavily judged for not being there to break up a fight.

You were relieved to move on. Telling yourself that it wasn't your fault, that you'd done nothing wrong. And yet, a voice echoed in the back of your mind screaming blame for what Jake had been forced to do.

Even as you boarded the plane to leave the country, it was still playing on a loop in the back of your mind. That rough, dirty hand moving up your leg. The blood. The sand in your mouth. The way he had kissed you that night afterwards...

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked, looking down at you with a wicked grin.

The flight from Spain to England was only a few short hours. Nothing which required sleep or tentative dream induced embraces. You felt yourself blush as he slipped into the seat beside you. Feeling entirely different. Grateful for the distraction from your thoughts.

"Maybe we should have an impromptu lesson this time." You suggested, "I haven't heard you use your words at all this week."

Jake pulled off his shades, slipping them into his breast pocket as he kicked off his shoes and offered you his hand to hold as the plane took off.

"If I tell you that asking for lessons was a ploy to get closer to you and nothing else, would you be mad?" He asked, deadly serious, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

Everything he had done before the previous night meant little. You didn't care.

"Crees que eres tan listo." You replied, "But truthfully, I knew you had no intention of ever learning any of it."

He would have pulled you into one of those kisses. The urge was there on his lips as he licked them, eyes focusing in on yours.

"Besides, we're in England for the next three days. You're going to have a lot of free time." He joked, knowing that you'd have to be preparing to liaise with the concert venue and hotel in Germany for the week ahead. "What's the plan to fill it all?"

It felt like the entire time you'd known him had been foreplay. Leading up to this. A game of cat and mouse that you'd secretly wanted to end with all the sex you'd imagined having with him. Because you had imagined having sex with him.

"Maybe you could help me with that." You giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He stared at you for a moment. Trying to comprehend the words he thought he'd heard you say. He wasn't used to it. He expected you to rebuff him again. Even after spending the night wrapped in his arms, listening to his chest rise and fall against your cheek.

"Are you fucking serious?" He asked, gripping your hand more tightly.

You leaned in and placed your lips flush to his ear.

"Quiero arrancarte la ropa y follarte hasta que no puedas pararte derecho..." You whispered.

You felt his body close, his hand travel up your arm. Pulling you in. You let him. His brothers, Josh and Sam were sitting in the seats in front. And behind there was Danny, surrounded by people who would never know the secret you shared. Their eyes busy with anything but what the two of you were doing.

"I beg you, tell me what you just said."

You kissed him. Without shame. Without care if anyone noticed.

"I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you can't stand up straight..."

~

Throwing your luggage down, you tumbled into the bathroom. The anticipation was overwhelming. He'd been whispering in your ear the entire flight. All the things he was going to do to you. All the things he had imagined every single time you'd rejected him. The last thing he had said to you as you pulled up outside the hotel, weary and travel worn was a twenty minute warning that once you'd checked in and got to your room he was coming after you.

You grabbed your toiletries and began pulling your brush through your hair. Running the faucet until the water ran warm, rinsing the airport smell off your face. Shedding your clothes until you were down to your underwear, furiously brushing your teeth as you ran an electric razor up your leg.

Pulling open the elastic waist band of your panties, you peered down into the pubic hair you hadn't bothered to tidy up. Sighing at your own lack of foresight. Pushing your panties down to your ankles as you ran the shaver across your mound, wondering if he would care or even notice.

You slipped on your little white night robe over your underwear. Certain he would want you in a state of undress as he arrived. Perhaps expecting it. You regarded yourself in the mirror as you recalled his words.

"I'm going to taste that sweet pussy...You don't know how many times I've imagined what you taste like..."

You tightened the belt of your robe, feeling the length of silk material between your fingers as you pulled on it.

"You've pissed me off so much lately, I'm going to fuck that right out of you..."

Catching yourself breathing heavily, you placed the flat of your hand to the centre of your cleavage. Pressing down to feel your own heart beat.

"You know I would beat any man who tried to hurt you...you know that, don't you? Nobody's ever going to touch you again. Only me..."

Something stirred in that space between your chest and stomach. Something you had no name for. You weren't afraid when you remembered how he had lost his mind over the thought of you getting hurt. You were turned on.

"I'm getting hard right now thinking about getting to the hotel... You've got twenty minutes until I knock on your door..."

When you'd thought of the kind of lover he might be, you'd been inclined to imagine him soft and thoughtful. But there was something in those words that had been savage and downright filthy. He'd taken delight in watching you squirm in your seat, looking around to make sure nobody was listening.

Kissing you until you giggled. His lips making moist trails down your neck. Not leaving you alone for a moment, not even when people walked past your seats and witnessed exactly what he was doing to you. You'd be the talk of the tour, now.

The soft knock broke your reverie. You flinched, realising you'd been standing in front of the mirror lost in thought. Feeling as if your life was going to change the moment you opened the door. You sprayed some perfume into the air and walked through it as you headed out of the bathroom.

You only opened the door a notch before he slipped through the gap. Hands creeping down your back, gripping your ass cheeks tightly as he pulled them apart and pressed you against the hotel room wall. His mouth was on yours before speaking. Lapping his tongue into your mouth, feeling it brush against yours in a kiss that was the most desperate you'd ever felt him be.

"Fuck!" He groaned, "I can't believe I finally get to do this with you."

He put you down on the bed. Releasing you so that you fell onto the sheets and pillows, the sweetest laughter sounding out from the pit of your stomach.

Ripping open his shirt, he slipped it off his shoulders and began fighting to ease his belt. You watched curiously. Opening your robe to reveal the white bra and panties beneath.

All the laughter gone as you eyed his hard cock. Sitting there beneath his boxers, large and imposing. He gripped it in his hand. moving the erection up a little so that the tip peeked out from his waist band.

"How bad do you want it?" He asked, taking one of your ankles in his free hand and pulling you effortlessly down the bed.

You were under some sort of spell. There was no other explanation for how you found the confidence to respond. You would have fallen into embarrassment otherwise. Afraid to be vocal about what you wanted. Jake liked to talk, and talking was your gift. It made sense to you, more than ever, to use your words.

"I want you so bad, Jake. I can't stand it..."

He nodded, casting his gaze down the length of your body.

"Fuck, you're sweet. You're so god damn sweet, I just want to sink my teeth into every inch of you."

You pointed your toes, lifting your leg up to run the length of his torso. When you ran it back down, you lingered at his waist band. Hooking your toe beneath it, pulling it down just a little further so that his cock sprang free.

"Pain..." You gasped under your breath.

His hand curled around the hard base. "I won't fuck you sore, I'll make sure you're wet enough first."

You could feel the pressure building in your centre. You slipped your hand down beneath your panties and felt the wetness increase. You were already enough for him to slip inside of.

You were about to pull your hand out when he shook his head.

"No. Keep it there." He instructed, making shallow breaths as he began to move his hand up and down his own cock. "Slip your panties to the side, just a little bit. I want to see your lips down there..."

Yours were like little pink ribbons. Your clit was swollen and ready at the peak, the tiny head budding out from beneath the hood as you pulled it back with the flat of your fingers. Keeping your eyes on him the entire time. Allowing the sight of him at the foot of the bed to spur you on.

His head was flushed pink. White beads of pre-cum leaking out onto his fingers as he squeezed at the end. A throbbing vein pulsated down the centre of the shaft, his eyes half closed as he watched you plane your fingers down the slit, opening up your entrance for him to see.

"Take everything off." He ordered, the faded tan lines on his chest from the Vineyard making you smile as he kicked off his boxers.

Jake knelt onto the edge of the bed as you unhooked your bra. Your breasts spilling out of the white lace, round and firm with two hard buds in the centre of rippled goose flesh as you felt a cold shiver down your spine. Everything felt as if it were happening in a dream.

"These eyes stay on me while I'm inside you." He said, a hand suddenly reaching up for your jaw, tilting your face upward as he drank you in. "You understand me?"

You nod pitifully. Knowing his strength. Knowing there was aggression simmering beneath his cool exterior. Knowing you would do anything to placate him. Even though it made your pussy throb to think of how masterful he could be when cornered.

He inched two fingers into his mouth. A trail of saliva hanging down from his lip as he brought them to your needy cunt. You were a trembling mess as he hooked them inside you, watching your face for that blissful relief.

"Tell me how that feels."

You couldn't speak for a moment. Taking in the sensation of him driving into you past his knuckles. His grazed hand came to rest on the bed beside your head, his hair and the chains around his neck reaching down into the space where he hovered above.

"So fucking good." You tried to say, your entire body shaking as he began to pound into you harder.

He grinned that confidence, the one he liked to smirk when he knew that he was doing something right. You'd seen it on his lips before. His pressure was delicious. Using hot force and a curl of his fingers to press down on that sweet spot inside.

You almost felt bereft when he pulled his fingers out completely, returning them to his mouth where he padded them across his tongue. Tasting you. Just the way he had said he would.

"Put your mouth on it." You told him, wondering if you were a part of this dominance play or if you'd stepped out of line.

"You really are a filthy little thing, aren't you?" His head bowed, he slid down your torso and down through the valley of your navel. "Fuck...if this isn't so worth the wait..."

You looked down past the curve of your breasts. To where his wild hair was splayed across your open thighs. His back arched as he opened his mouth. Taking in a full slick lick of your pussy lips that made you moan so loud you couldn't hold back. His lips pursed around your clit, sucking on it and lapping his tongue against the swollen bud.

"Se siente tan jodidamente bien..." You hissed through gritted teeth, trying to keep a grip on the bed sheets.

You felt the vibration of his moan against your clit. Listening to you speak like that, it made him drive his tongue further into your entrance. You felt the softness of it at the opening of your walls. Hearing him swallow your wetness, you tangled your hands into his hair and swept it into your fist.

You took a deep breath and pushed him deeper into your cunt. Hips bucking, pressure mounting in your core. You almost fucked his mouth yourself until he gripped your hips steady and reminded you who was in control.

"Hold still!" He called up, raising his head with your juice dripping from his bottom lip.

You were brought to stillness by his firm grip. His eyes locked on yours as he returned his mouth to you. His nose pressed flush against your clit as he buried his head. You ached to move. Arch your back. Grind your hips. Anything to release the mounting tension.

"I mean it Jake, I'm so fucking close..." You warned him.

You trembled and twitched against his tongue as he slowly brought it to rest at your mound. The sound of his name falling like gentle rain was like music to his ears. Your orgasm belonged to him. He looked up at you and viciously slammed his fingers back inside.

"Well, come on then." He urged. "Give it to me if you want to so badly."

You tossed your head back. He ravaged and ruined you. Pounding his fingers into your cunt violently as he returned to sucking on your clit, harder. The sound was like a wet popping as his fist pressed against your slipper lips. The moans you couldn't hold back shrieking out of you as he deviously refused to stop.

"That's it, baby." You heard him say below the wet pounding and your own vocals, "Show me what that pussy can do."

He watched you. Every breath. Ever shudder. He absorbed it all. Appreciating each and revelling in it all. You were his muse, his morning song. And as you came undone at the tip of his fingers and tongue, he felt your orgasm bloom into his mouth.

"Oh god..." He swallowed hard. "I fucking need it...."

You were still on the fringes of your climax as he pulled you up. Every point in your body a mess of tingles. You met his mouth again and tasted yourself there on his lips.

"Fuck me, Jake."

Positioning you on the pillows, he made you lean back against the head board. Crawling up to meet you, ensuring your eyes never left his.

"Ask me again."

You feel his hard erection pressed against your pussy lips and inner thigh.

"I want you to fuck me so good, Jake."

He lowered his head, coming to rest at your breasts. Scanning them with his tongue, sucking on your nipple as you try to keep yourself from melting into the bed sheets.

"Beg me." He said finally, sinking his teeth into your flesh.

All the words you could think of in any language you had ever known seemed to flee from you. There was only one that remained.

"Please..."

It wasn't enough. "Beg harder."

You sank your fingernails into his back. "Fuck me! Please, I want you to... punish me...for all the times I told you no... make me repent for it... I beg you."

He moved to bring himself into you. Slapping his thick, girthy cock against your still sensitive slit. Before you could scream, he had you pressed against the head board and his cock was buried so deeply inside you it took your breath away.

God, he felt so good. Like your walls had never welcomed such a perfect feeling. He filled you so good, just on the cusp of pain but you were wet enough to handle it. He'd promised you wouldn't be sore afterwards, and you believed him.

"Shit, you feel so..." He faltered, "Fuck, I can't explain it."

His mouth was at your throat. Sticky fingers rested against your wind pipe, not squeezing but simply holding you in place as he rocked into you.

It had all been too much. Too much waiting, too much anticipation.

"Use your words, Jakey, come on..." You closed your legs around his waist and felt him shudder as he thrusted.

He wants as much contact with you as possible. To keep your eyes locked with his. But to also feel your breasts bouncing against his bare chest. He wants to rub your clit as he shoves his cock into you so deep he wants to watch your pussy eat it up until it disappears inside you. He wants all of it whilst listening to you speak.

"Shut up." He managed, sweat dripping off his brow. "Just let me come inside you..."

You might have been offended, but you could tell the hold you had on him had him all speechless. You making him talk was taking him away from all his other senses. Which made you smile because Jake loved nothing more than being vocal.

"Why don't you make me?" You teased. "Fucking me with your big cock like that? You want me to shut up? Fucking come in me..."

As if he could read your mind, he abruptly picked up speed and grunted vividly into the curve of your neck. Slamming into you with his entire body. The sound of his skin slapping against yours is all that echoes in your ears. Muffling out the sound of Jake's tension, his panting as he let's go into your waiting pussy. Convulsing on top of you as you grip him tightly.

His hands come underneath you, kneading your ass cheeks as he slows down. Breathing hard against your chest.

"I had no idea you could fuck like that." You breathed, "You're a dark horse, Jake Kiszka."

He laughed and returned to you for gentle kisses that reminded you he was still the sweet one who had sat with you as you reached out for him in your sleep.

"I protect my woman and I fuck her good." He replied, with a hint of playfulness as he moved apart from you to slump at your side.

You watched his cock soften as he laid there. His seed still sitting at your entrance.

"Oh I'm your woman, am I?" You jested back.

He nodded, but didn't say anything. Before too long he was snoring quietly. Beautifully naked as he was sprawled out on your hotel room bed.

You slowly inched away, heading to the bathroom to clean yourself up while he slept. Feeling a little sore, after all.

.

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

[sepublic]

Alright hear me out. Pythor x Overlord yaoi. Think about it. The only people the Overlord has really interacted with are yes-men he created to serve him, such as Kozu and Cryptor, or people he's manipulated after rescuing at a low point in their lives, so Garmadon and Harumi.

Pythor is different; He's someone wholly independent of the Overlord, who went out of his way to find and rescue him, totally of his own volition. The Overlord might not have even known Pythor existed up until they met. Others, the Overlord has had to control and take advantage of, but him and Pythor are always on the same track, there's no moral hesitation on his end. They have an evil laugh together, the Overlord outright tells Pythor that he likes him.

Of course Kozu and Cryptor do everything for the Overlord, they were made for that. Pythor CHOSE to be unconditionally loyal. He says he wants the Overlord as a means of revenge against the ninja, but he still took a bullet for the Overlord, which necessitated Zane's sacrifice. Maybe Pythor was more assured of the Overlord's ability to destroy the ninja than his own, and was willing to die for vengeance because what else does he have left?

He's an outcast by Serpentine standards; In the canon Pythor's Revenge book, part of his motives for stealing the BorgWatch ahead of its release was to impress his fellow Serpentine into letting him back in, but they don't. Everyone blames Pythor for nearly getting them killed, he's hated by his own kind now, and was evidently somewhat of a black sheep even amongst his own Anacondrai, who eventually did recognize him at the end of S4.

Does Pythor even know what he's doing with his life anymore, or is he just angry and bitter and looking for an outlet? Has he been driven twice mad, first by surviving the starvation and Donner Party cannibalism of his kind, and then burning inside of the Great Devourer? He was all alone after the Great Devourer, vulnerable and having to take care of himself.

Maybe he sees himself in the Overlord, someone considered an absolute monster with nobody else on his side, who just wants to lash out at the world. Maybe there's a kinship between the two, where Pythor gives him the helper he himself needed. Multiple times, he is the Overlord's savior, when usually it is the other way around between the Overlord and his found champion; There are times where HE is guiding the Overlord with advice, having a grounded, mortal perspective that he needs. The Overlord has had minions and pawns, but him and Pythor genuinely feel like an equal standing.

Don't you think it's kinda sus that the Overlord trusts Pythor more with his damaged condition, than the Nindroid he literally programmed to serve him? He knew Cryptor longer. But Pythor's willing, unconditional loyalty really is something else; I think the Overlord's never had a mortal choose to be on his side without coercion of some kind, so he's like his first real friend. The only person he actually respects enough to listen to; Someone the Overlord trusts to intimately hide in the body of, over any other mechanical means up until this point. Maybe he was just sick of robotic confines and wanted to feel flesh. But maybe…!

Cryptor is wary of Pythor and learning the Overlord really did trust this Serpentine more than his own creation is frustrating to him. He thinks they're both vying for paternal affection from the Overlord. On Cryptor's end, that is the case. But for Pythor, he, um. Fucked that old man.

In Crystalized, I kinda see the Overlord as replacing the twisted paternal role that Harumi tried to place Garmadon into. So in addition to any possibly objections over the mastermind of her parents' demise being on C.O.C.K., not only is the Overlord justifying it by explaining that Pythor is loyal, but also. Also he's his husband. Evil purple couple. By extension that makes Pythor her dad, her fourth dad. Harumi has to explain to Mr. F that Pythor fucked her dad.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,794 Words

Summary: The solar eclipse after Solar's death has an energy to it.

Warnings: Character Death, Caps, Cursing, Overworking, Self-Hatred (from Moon, of course), Sleep Deprivation, Blood (minor), Minor Injury, Ghost, Magic, Mind Meld, Soul Bond, Sharing A Body/Brain, Pain, Nausea, let me know if I should add anything else.

Binding And Bonding

Solar woke up in an abyss. Everything around him was darkness. He could see a vague ring of light around him, lighting up the rest of his surroundings decently well. He could vaguely hear something being said into the void around him in a vaguely familiar voice but he was knocked out before he could acknowledge the voice.

-Two And A Half Weeks Earlier-

"I don't wanna go…" Solar muttered, body deteriorating and slowly disintegrating as it collapsed to the floor like his dimension likely was. Moon was quick to grab him and try to keep him steady but it wasn't any use given he couldn't feel his legs anymore.

"You don't have to!" Moon insisted, holding Solar as close as he could, Solar feeling Moon's hands slip through him as he could feel himself fading into an abyss.

"Solar? SOLAR!" Solar could vaguely hear Moon screaming as he went into a void.

-A Week Later-

"Moon, you're pushing yourself. You aren't charging or resting." Eclipse finally broke and snapped at him.

"Maybe I would if I hadn't fucked everything up!" Moon screamed back at him, too stressed to not scream at the inconveniences anymore, too focused on getting Solar back now.

"Moon, you're at a max of five percent." Eclipse reminded him.

"I'll charge when my brother is back." Moon growled venomously, eyes turning to glare that Eclipse dare interrupt him but Eclipse had gotten used to Moon being like this fairly quickly. Eclipse knew Moon would inevitably run himself down and then Eclipse could carry Moon off to bed.

Thankfully, Eclipse got that opportunity sooner rather than later as Moon stumbled and his hand hit a tray, knocking it to the floor with Moon collapsing to the floor as well a few seconds later.

Eclipse went and finally was able to scoop the poor sap up and groan at how heavy Moon was, muttering complaints about how much Moon weighed as he kicked the door to Parts & Service open for him since he was busy carrying Moon.

"You." Ruin caught Eclipse's attention before Eclipse was able to leave.

"Yeah, what about me? Want me to come in there and kill you finally?" Eclipse asked.

"No, actually. I would like you to forget Protocol 87.775.2, actually." Ruin told him and Eclipse tilted his head in question, not really knowing what Ruin was talking about.

"Forget about what?" Eclipse asked.

"Exactly! Good job! Thank you! Be on your way now!" Ruin cheerily told him and Eclipse shook his head and carried Moon up to the daycare and through the portal to the house, sighing seeing Sun's cats practically waiting for Moon, though they hissed as if they hated him anyway, but Eclipse knew the little cretins were pretending they hated Moon.

Eclipse laid Moon on the couch and put a blanket over him for the cats to crawl on top of and purr now that they knew Moon was sleeping. Eclipse chuckled at the little gremlins. They sure loved their uncle, they were purring on his unconscious body.

Eclipse plugged Moon's charging wire into the wall outlet near the couch and left to go figure out what the hell Ruin was talking about, landing at the daycare computer inevitably. It seemed the computer knew everything anyway so he may as well try.

"Nice attempt, but you are not a member of the Celestial Family." The computer told him.

"Nice joke, I actually am. But I came for answers." Eclipse told the machine.

"Whyever would I give you answers?" The computer asked.

"Ruin mentioned a protocol in me, basically asking me to delete it but I don't know what he was talking about. I will let you scan my code if you look for Protocol 87.775.2." Eclipse told the computer.

"…I will agree to these conditions, only because it may serve well for Moon." The computer agreed. Eclipse plugged himself into the computer for it to scan him and just sat back waiting, all he could do was wait. The computer was doing two things at once and it was taking a while.

Eclipse ended up falling asleep for a bit in the computer chair while the computer did its thing. However, the computer also decided to be an alarm for Eclipse as it woke him up with a loud bussing noise through his circuits.

"HEY!" Eclipse jolted awake, pulling out the cord and thoroughly startled by the computer.

"Ah, good, awake. I have found Protocol 87.775.2 as well as scanned your code." The computer told him.

"And you wake me up like your about to try giving me a controlled shock?" Eclipse snapped.

"Yes, I found it amusing." The computer would've laughed if it could, Eclipse could tell.

"Fine, what is the protocol about?" Eclipse asked.

"This protocol entails a means to what Moon has been working on. A way to undo what has been done." Eclipse scoffed at that.

"So that's why he wanted me to get rid of it. I haven't been alone in a room so he couldn't give me an order to try to get me to delete it until today." Eclipse muttered.

"Unfortunately, it is extremely difficult as it works with the essence of an energy." The computer told him.

"Tell me what I have to do."

-One Week & Four Days Later-

Eclipse walked into the room Solar had died in. He had finally made good on getting everything else ready and Sun and Moon were out with Earth and Lunar, watching the solar eclipse on the roof of the PizzaPlex.

Eclipse had chalk, blood, and a dagger. He hated this, it felt so weird. It felt so awkward to probably be the first person Solar sees when he comes back.

"Solar?" Eclipse calls to whatever remained of Solar's energy, which he had attuned himself to over the last week and a half.

"Solar." Eclipse called to Solar again, sitting down in front of where Solar died. He could feel the energy around him swirling as though Solar was trying to tell him he was there still.

"There you are." Eclipse closed his eyes, holding the chalk and drew a circle of runes with his eyes closed, following the images of runes the protocol was feeding him on the back of his eyelids. The circle was around Eclipse himself and the spot Solar died in, interlocking them.

"Solar, I can feel you. God that sounds weird." Eclipse muttered the last half. The energy jolted like it was laughing at him. "Yeah, laugh it up, idiot. Sit with me." Eclipse sighed. He could vaguely see the outline of Solar's energy sit with him.

"Thank you." Eclipse muttered, knowing he had to thank Solar. He hated that he had to. Eclipse cringed as he poured the blood on the inner ring of the rune circle, watching outside as the sky began to go dark.

"I willingly open this connection for Solar." Eclipse stated as the protocol had, cutting open his right hand with the dagger in his left dominant hand. Eclipse could see that the whisp in his vision that was Solar's energy was interested.

"Hold my hand, Solar and only Solar." Eclipse told the energy. The energy seemed to hold his hand and Eclipse sighed at the feeling, relieved Solar was just listening to him, probably out of curiosity rather than genuine willingness.

"I connect what is mine to what is yours. Wire for wire, energy for energy. I share willingly what is mine with you." Eclipse spoke evenly, making sure to read word for word.

"This day is a connection." Eclipse felt the rune light up with light, blazing as the room went completely dark. "I bind us. Mine is yours. under this light, we become connected." Eclipse lost his breath after these words of the spell, making him choke a bit as he could feel Solar's energy binding to his own, coughing to get air as he could feel his mind breaking in half, body feeling aches and pains as Solar's energy was bonding to him.

Eclipse lurched forward, nauseous as he felt Solar's AI blooming into his head, using the broken-off half of Eclipse's mind, their mind? Eclipse didn't know but he was nauseous. Animatronics weren't supposed to get nauseous. He leaned with his hands on the ground, hearing someone screaming. Was that him? Was he screaming? He still had to say the final words and get Solar to say them too.

Eclipse reached his energy into his mind, making Solar take half control with him, each having control of one half of their? body. Eclipse fed the final words into their vision to make Solar say it with him. Once Solar nodded using their head Eclipse nodded back.

"We claim the energy of the solar eclipse given to us." Both of their voices echoed and the pitch-black void of the room glowed with a peace around them, the white ring around them calmly pulsing with their energies. Eclipse finally felt a peace now as he curled up on the ground, trembling with everything that had happened, too overwhelmed to move but he had to finish it. He had to finish this. He fed to Solar in their optics the final step and words.

Solar was the one to drag their body upright again. Eclipse was shivering, Solar was shivering. The room felt cold. Everything felt cold. Solar seemed to have more force than Eclipse, Solar was learning how to share their energy.

"We undo the damage that has been done through false trust." They made sure to echo each other and Eclipse felt a bloom in his chest of the energy they claimed from the solar eclipse above in the sky still, the ring around them, practically burst into a running visual of universes coming back into being, rebuilding themselves, lives being brought back immediately, everything blooming around them in the circle of light like flowers.

Eclipse gave a soft, exhausted chuckle seeing it and seeing the sky begin to get light again. Once the ring around them finished, the warm feeling slowly dissipated and Eclipse and Solar simply collapsed onto the ground, shaking and taking deep breaths.

"Thank you." Solar whispered.

"I know." Eclipse tried to laugh but all that came out was a wheeze.

"Are you okay?" Solar asked.

"I'm exhausted." Eclipse whispered back.

"Well, you gave up your magic to bring everything back, you're probably going to be exhausted for a while." Solar sighed.

"I expect Moon to thank me, you tell him that if you wake up first." Eclipse told Solar before letting himself ease into unconsciousness, giving Solar control for a brief moment before Solar fell asleep too from being brought back and losing a lot of energy himself.