#she appreciates people who play it straight!

[lucky-clover-gazette]

Arceus Forbid Women Do Anything

Chapter 2/3 | 7,558 words | Rated T

Commandment II: Gatekeep

The self-indulgent Volo Wins AU fic has turned into non-diagetic game mechanics timeloop existential struggle with failure fic. Who's surprised

When the champion watched him during their battles, she often tried to imagine him in a different state of mind. She analyzed what she understood of his plans, was reluctantly impressed by his enduring commitment to his own aspirations. She got the best impression she could of the real Volo, a friend and a stranger and her only companion in this endless cycle of failure. She never spoke to him. The idea of conversation felt wrong, as if disturbing a scripted play or painting over a work of art. And besides, even if she managed to change the narrative through speech, her inevitable failure would render the results meaningless. She would, always, try again. Until she won, she would try again. As she approached the Temple of Sinnoh once again, the champion thought that she might be going insane. It made no sense, that she had not yet used her knowledge and practice to end this cycle. But every time she had the chance, she just… couldn’t. She would lose, retreat to the cave, call Arceus, and receive the same answer each time. Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

Read the full chapter on AO3 or under the cut:

BEFORE

The Champion of Hisui knew that something was wrong when she reached the temple’s remains.

Volo had been acting more strangely than usual in the past few weeks, as their search for the plates of Arceus drew closer to its end. Restless, lapsing into bouts of discomforting behavior that she’d struggled to explain. She’d always known there was something ironic about his friendly mercantile persona, and appreciated his genuine nature whenever it showed. Having worked retail herself in the previous world, she could never blame Volo for avoiding his job at the Ginkgo Guild, exploring ruins and attaching himself to her adventures instead. With time she had come to genuinely enjoy his company, smiling despite herself whenever he emerged to congratulate her for quelling yet another frenzied noble. And after her banishment, when he’d been the only person to truly care for her, she hadn’t hesitated to accept his comfort.

She didn’t know what exactly to call their relationship now, in the wake of her victory against Palkia and Dialga. By all intents and purposes, it felt like they were a partnership—officially as seekers of the plates of Arceus, but also as friends. He was the closest companion she had found in this world, and she’d grown to trust him near-implicitly. Volo had put himself at risk on her behalf far too many times for her to doubt his intentions now.

But, still. He was being weird. His lecture about Giratina had been pretty normal (for Volo), but the deranged laughter interrupting it? Definitely harder to explain—even for the champion, who usually delighted in Volo’s bizarre behaviors.

Of course, part of that was due to Volo himself, who was easily one of the most attractive people she had ever met. If someone else did half of the weird shit he did, she was pretty sure she’d find it annoying or even creepy. But with Volo, it was endearing. Not just because he was beautiful, or because he had a pleasant voice, or because he held himself with exceptional confidence. She was endeared because he was brilliant, and passionate about his interests, and clever in his humor, and so very sweet towards his pokémon. And he was hot.

She sometimes wondered if he felt the same way about her. But he was so focused on his studies, on the plates of Arceus, that she assumed that any kind of latent attraction would not be made a priority. Occasionally she felt the urge to just straight-up ask ‘what are we?’, but that seemed far too modern an approach. And besides, did she even want her relationship with Volo to be physical, or even explicitly romantic, outside the realm of fantasy?

She didn’t know if she could stand to lose his friendship. Volo, more than anyone else in Hisui, felt real. He was more than a sycophant, a worshiper, someone who idolized her unquestioningly for her gifts. He’d praised her successes, of course, but she’d never been ignorant to the double meanings in his words, the slight contempt of someone who wished for a life they could not have. A life she did have, thanks to the Almighty Arceus plucking her from her original time and place.

From others, praise felt shallow and meaningless. She’d saved them from misfortune, and they’d thanked her because they could continue living as they always had. But from the lonely and mysterious Volo, praise felt meaningful and true. Through his resentment he saw the many facets of her—she was not a flawless hero—and as a result, hadn’t rejected her when she appeared to have failed. He hadn’t abandoned her after she’d saved the region, either, once she’d served her great purpose. And while he was absolutely using her to find the plates, she knew that she was using him too. And that, somehow, was a greater comfort than any other connection she’d forged in this unfamiliar world.

Of course, things weren’t entirely cynical between them. Volo had shown the champion genuine moments of support, even when it had served him no purpose to do so. He’d comforted her during her banishment, blaming the people of Jubilife for their cruelty rather than telling her what she could have done differently to appease them. He had never once encouraged her to apologize. He’d given her a safe haven with Cogita and dedicated himself to assisting her with the Red Chain. All the while, he’d shown no shame about his continued association with the traitor who supposedly doomed them all.

Arceus, meanwhile, had transported its champion to Hisui with only a smartphone as a tether, offering little support beyond a mission and a vague promise upon its completion. At least when Volo was negging her, he did it to her face. With effort. While being hot about it. When he’d asked the champion for her help with the plates, taking her away from the village so they could travel the world together, it had been a no-brainer to say yes. She didn’t even really know what the plates did—just that Volo cared about finding them, and so she did too.

But, still. Something felt wrong. Something had felt wrong, ever since their last conversation with Cogita. Volo was lying to her, and after everything they’d been through she had no idea why he would. She already knew that he was more misanthropic than he acted and negligent in his merchant duties, which were the things he seemed most invested in concealing. He obviously had secrets—she knew very little of his past, for example—but those missing truths had never threatened the dynamic they’d created together. This truth, whatever it was, just felt wrong. She would not be able to proceed until it was revealed.

The champion took a deep breath, more nervous about this confrontation than any that had come before, and entered the temple ruins.

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NOW

The challenger returned to Mount Coronet for what would surely be their final attempt at victory.

They only knew what Arceus had told them: they’d returned countless times throughout their life to battle the Champion of Hisui, and each time they had lost. Lost the battle and their memory, returning to the wilds to train the pokémon they wielded. They knew that they were nearing the end of their life, and soon enough would not be able to ascend Mount Coronet at all—yet the voice of Arceus still urged them forwards, and so they climbed.

They understood now that the Champion of Hisui was a faithless traitor, who they would need to defeat in order to earn an audience with the detested false Lord. In their younger years Arceus had not provided this information, simply requesting that she be dispatched. After several losses, though, Arceus had eventually disclosed the entire truth. Ever since that disclosure, the challenger’s mood approaching Spear Pillar was always the same: overwhelming anger towards the fallen hero who had enabled the old world’s destruction.

The challenger reached the temple again.

“Welcome back,” greeted the Champion of Hisui, motioning to a bench at the edge of Spear Pillar. “Please, take a seat.”

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BEFORE

She thought it was rather dramatic, the way he stood at the edge of the ruins. The sky around them was vast and pink, dotted by Hisui’s seemingly eternal clouds as the sun slowly set. Volo did not face the champion and the feeling of wrongness only increased.

“The temple lies in ruins now,” said Volo, still refusing to turn around. His voice was light, distant, a kind of detached calm that she had rarely heard from the passionate researcher. “Columns cracked and broken... like pillars now turned into spears, stabbing into the heavens.”

The champion raised an eyebrow, stopping just before the stairs leading up to the viewing platform. But she said nothing.

Volo turned around then, wearing his winning merchant’s smile. “Well,” he sighed, “I detect a distinct lack of Giratina.”

The champion couldn’t help but smirk at that. It had always amused her, the way he acted like life was a comedy of errors and they had no choice but to play along. The way he’d spoken in the Celestica Ruins had been different, though—he’d been dead-serious about his own suffering and the suffering of others, deranged laughter aside.

And here was that humor again. It should have been a comforting return to form. But this time, the champion could not shake the chilling feeling that Volo was in on the joke.

“Hm?” he asked, resting his chin on his hand. His tone was unmistakably condescending. He hadn’t spoken to her like that in months, not since they’d grown to understand each other as more than merchant and hero. “Is something bothering you?”

The champion nodded stiffly. For all of her trust and confidence in their friendship, she couldn’t help but wonder—

“Ah, I do beg your pardon,” said Volo, having traded his smile for a chillingly neutral expression. “I suppose I must seem to be behaving strangely!”

He didn’t sound like himself. He put a hand on his hip.

“I daresay you deserve to know what I’m really after by now,” he told the champion, and her heart sunk.

She found herself stepping backwards, filled with incomprehensible dread. It didn’t matter what it was, it only mattered that she hadn’t possessed the sense to avoid this situation altogether. And now she had no choice but to accept that she was wrong about the only person in this world who’d ever felt right.

Volo chuckled darkly, his one visible eye noticeably changed. He looked… manic, was the only word for it. She’d seen hints of this before, but had chalked it up to passion. It had even been sweet, in small doses. But this was concerning. She wanted to reach out to him, and she wanted to leave this place before she learned exactly how foolish she had been.

The conflict left her rooted where she stood. The conflict, and the fear.

He seemed to sense that fear, his expression shifting back to an easy smile. He spoke clearly, thoughtfully, just as he had during countless discussions of history and ruins and oh, Arceus, this man might actually be insane.

“Ever since I became convinced that Arceus really does exist,” said Volo, “there has been one question that consumed my thoughts: How can I meet such a being myself?”

The champion struggled to understand the implications of his words. All things considered, that was a perfectly normal Volo thing to say, so why did everything feel so—

"It was in an attempt to answer this question that I originally sought out Giratina and had it tear open that rift in space and time,” Volo told the champion. “After all, Giratina wished to stand against Arceus.”

She blinked.

He…

He’d brought her here.

She was here, because of him.

And when she’d been banished…

“But that didn't do the trick,” Volo continued, still smiling. “So then I had you gather the fragments of the all-encompassing deity, just as the murals of the ruins directed.”

He had her.

He’d had her.

Volo closed his eyes and lifted his head to the heavens, eerily peaceful in his confession. “Eighteen plates said to be the fragments of the all-encompassing deity. You hold in your hands seventeen of them. So, you must be wondering: Where is the last one?“

He opened his eyes and removed something from his apron. A purple plate, shaped exactly like the others. “Why, it’s right here!”

That was not a customer service smile, it was a smirk. She’d seen it last when he’d playfully challenged her to battle, but nothing was playful about this challenge.

The champion stood, slack-jawed, as Volo reached for the shoulder of his Ginkgo Guild uniform. In one smooth motion he removed the jumpsuit and his hat, revealing…

Oh, he was definitely insane.

"Now hand over the plates you gathered!” Volo commanded, dressed in the most bizarre outfit the champion had ever seen in her life. He wore a chiton-shirt with a cold shoulder, a pendant with a teardrop-shaped stone, gladiator sandals, and green capri pants. Had he assembled this look in the dark?

And the hair. He had done something with his hair. His beautiful hair that the champion had always longed to see at its full length, gelled up in a deranged imitation of God itself.

It was too much. All of this was too much.

Volo’s gaze burned into her, his visible pupil having grown noticeably smaller. “I will be the one to bring them all together!"

The champion gripped the strap of her satchel. How dare he make commands, when he was the reason Arceus had brought her here? He should be begging for her forgiveness!

Volo was ranting now, seemingly to himself more than the person he’d just betrayed. "My desire to meet Arceus cannot be contained any longer! I need to know what it is! I must know what it is!"

When the champion was banished for Volo’s actions, he had comforted her. He had cared for her. Why would he have done that? Why would he have done any of this?

He stopped smiling. He spoke to her now, although part of her wished he wouldn’t. "If I can meet Arceus myself, then I may also be able to subjugate its power. And using that, I will attempt to create a new, better world!"

His words at the Celestica Ruins echoed through the champion’s head:

Ever since I was young, whenever I met with something painful or heartbreaking, I couldn't help but wonder why life was so unfair. Why I was cursed to live through such things. Of course, I imagine we all go through something like that.

The champion was pretty sure she was currently going through something like that.

“Of course,” Volo continued, “if I create a brand-new world, then the Hisui region that we currently exist in will be undone and returned to nothing. You, everyone you know, and all the Pokémon living here will vanish in an instant, as if you'd never been."

He’d brought her to this world, and now he wanted to destroy it.

Destroy her.

The champion wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound at Volo’s chest and demand that he admit that their connection was real, that she wasn’t a fool, that he regretted what he’d done to put her in harm’s way. She wanted him to be cured of this divine madness and come to his senses. She wanted him to be the person she’d grown to love—because of course she’d grown to love him, of all the people in this stupid world, instead of someone normal and unremarkable and disinterested in becoming a god.

Because that was what Volo wanted, right? To become a god? To subjugate God, and take its place?

And then he would destroy everything. This entire reality, gone. The people and pokémon within it, gone. Her, gone.

Did he really care for her so little, that he would erase her along with the rest of them?

And how deranged was she, to be more upset by the loss of his friendship than the loss of everything and everyone else?

Volo crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the champion as if he saw right through her. As if she wasn’t a person at all, but an obstacle in his way. The final barrier between him and Arceus, between his destiny and desires, in which she would have no part to play.

She would have given him the damn plates, if he had just apologized and explained. After all, it had been Arceus—not Volo—to bring her to this godforsaken place.

"If you want to keep this world from disappearing,” challenged Volo, “then face me in battle!”

She would not be giving him the plates. He didn’t deserve them, didn’t deserve to be God any more than God itself deserved to be God. Arceus and Volo—a deity and its unfashionable imitation. Honestly, in that moment, the champion despised them both.

“Not that you have a choice,” Volo taunted, grinning widely because he was insane. “Even if you don't wish to battle me, I'm not above using force to take those plates from you."

He held up a pokéball and stared down at the champion. With the slightest of nods, she removed her samurott from her satchel.

She had Arceus’s blessing and Volo clearly did not. She was going to defeat him, just as she’d defeated every other enemy in her path. Only once she’d sufficiently humiliated him in front of his god would she allow herself to process everything she’d learned.

Volo tossed out his first pokémon with a knowing smirk, his form surprisingly confident and precise. For all of his intellectual strengths, the champion had never known him to be a particularly skilled trainer.

A spiritomb emerged from his pokéball.

Clearly there were many things the champion did not know about Volo.

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NOW

“Please,” the champion repeated, motioning to the bench beneath the heavens. “I really think you should sit down.”

The challenger scowled at her, crossing their arms over their chest. “You know why I’m here.”

She rolled her eyes. The outsider had no memory of meeting her before, but her behaviors felt familiar all the same. “Yes,” the champion sighed, “I know that you’re here to fight me.”

“And then Lord Volo.”

She smirked at that. “Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

Her attitude enraged the challenger. A wicked traitor to the god that had chosen her—unfathomable, really, in her irreverence.

“Seriously,” said the champion, looking the challenger up and down. “Sit down.”

“Why?” the challenger said, suspecting a trap.

“You look exhausted from your climb.”

She was uncomfortably earnest in her explanation. And she was correct.

“How old are you now, anyway?” the champion asked as the challenger sat. To their surprise, she sat down beside them immediately.

“Old enough to finally defeat you,” said the challenger, avoiding her searching gaze.

She chuckled. “Fair enough.” And then, thoughtfully: “It’s been quite some time since we last met. I was beginning to wonder if Arceus had decided against sending a senior citizen in its stead.”

The challenger, naturally, took offense at the insult. “How old are you, then? I assume that your lack of humanity implies a lack of mortality as well.”

She nodded with a face that appeared far too young for the person wearing it. “I do not age conventionally, that is true.”

“Can you die at all?”

“Not by natural means,” the champion said. “Although I suppose I am still flesh and blood, just like you. But you are old and frail, while my youth has been preserved. Your remaining time in this world is incredibly limited, and yet you’ve come here again—do you not have other things to do? Interests, passions? Family? Does your entire life revolve around your mission from God?”

“Does your life not revolve around your Lord?” the challenger deflected. “According to Arceus, you chose him over the entire world.”

“In a manner of speaking, I did,” admitted the champion. “Though I don’t expect Arceus to ever fully understand my decision.”

“Decision? You lost.”

Something flashed behind the champion’s eyes. It felt good to drag her down from the heavens.

“It was once said,” she told the challenger through gritted teeth, “that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results.”

It was an odd response. The challenger did not care to understand its purpose. They were indeed old and frail, and this was their final chance.

“Today,” they told the champion, “I will win.”

“Very well,” the champion said, withdrawing an ancient-looking pokéball from her fine silks. She stood up and offered her challenger a hand. They glared at it. The champion sighed, withdrew her hand, and watched as the challenger struggled to their feet.

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BEFORE

Her final pokémon was on low health when she finally defeated Volo’s Togekiss. She had refused to speak a word during the fight, despite his taunting smiles and various confident poses. In addition to being insane, Volo was apparently also an incredibly skilled trainer. Not quite as skilled as the champion, though, as his final and most beloved pokémon returned to her ball.

Volo shook his head, still wearing that deranged smile, as he returned the pokéball to some unseen pocket in his ridiculous Arceus outfit. The champion sighed with relief, grateful that this would be over soon. He’d abandon the temple in defeat, and she would mourn his betrayal in peace. Short of physically attacking her, he had no other way to take the plates by force—and she still could not believe that Volo was capable of such brutality, when his entire goal was to create a better, fairer world.

(Honestly, if he hadn’t hurt her so profoundly in the process of achieving that goal, she thought she might admire him for his idealism.)

She shook her head. He was a hypocrite and out of his right mind. The last thing he deserved was admiration, or even an attempt at understanding. She would return to the village and forget all about him, and try her best to find someone else in this world who made sense. Maybe if Arceus saw her success, it would even return her to her world. Defeating Volo had been her ultimate mission, right?

Which…

If Arceus had sent her to correct Volo’s disturbance of the natural order, it had always known about Volo’s hidden intentions. This entire time, it had watched its chosen champion find comfort in her destined enemy, without so much as a word of caution.

It must have been intentional, then, for Arceus to keep her in the dark. But why?

“Why?” Volo demanded, now despondent in his defeat. “Why you?! Why do you have the blessing of Arceus?”

She didn’t know. He knew that she didn’t know.

“I’ve devoted myself to Arceus beyond any other!” Volo ranted, seemingly towards the heavens themselves. “I worshiped it as the creator of our entire world! I bent all of my passion and interest and study! All the time I’ve spent poring over the legends.. Everything that I’ve done—!”

The champion had served Arceus’s mission dutifully since her arrival in Hisui. Although reluctant at times, she had quelled the nobles and assembled the Red Chain. She had immediately opposed Volo, who sought to destroy the world Arceus created. This mission was her entire life—her job, her hobby, her singular purpose upon being transported to Hisui without her consent.

“You outsider!” Volo hissed, now glaring directly at the champion. “It’s almost as if you were spat out of the space-time rift just to get in my way!”

She felt a lump rise in her throat.

Volo had been the one thing, here, that she’d chosen for herself. To her, their friendship had been disconnected from her holy mission or crushing responsibilities—in fact, it had been a much-needed relief.

But the entire time, he had only viewed her as Arceus’s chosen hero. And he despised her for it.

Silent tears ran down the champion’s cheeks. He seemed not to notice, or not to care.

“No,” Volo told himself, “no, this isn’t finished yet.”

Please, she almost begged, but didn’t. She didn’t know how much more of this she could stand. But she couldn’t leave, either, not when he still posed a threat, not when she deserved answers but couldn’t yet bring herself to ask—

Volo grinned again, his derangement reaching its apparent peak. “Can’t you feel it? The chill creeping through your veins—the eldritch presence icing your heart?”

She felt something, as dark shadows began to appear behind Volo. A massive void, from which a large creature began to emerge. It screeched as Volo began to laugh, its wings unfolding and its body taking material form. The champion recognized Giratina at once, well-primed by Volo’s lecture in the Celestica Ruins.

Volo regarded her in the throes of his mania, unwilling and unable to recognize her as anything but his enemy. Perhaps that was too charitable an interpretation, but—

“GIRATINA!” Volo shouted, clenching his hands as if they already held the plates of Arceus. “STRIKE HER DOWN!”

He laughed again, his eyes wide and his body hunched, as Giratina roared.

The champion released her final available pokémon, which only possessed a quarter of its health. She then turned on her heel, summoned Wyrdeer, and headed for the temple exit, using the ill-fated battle as a brief distraction. She ignored the sound of her fainting pokémon and Volo’s confused yelling as she pulled her Arcphone from her satchel and held it to her ear.

“You have to stop him,” the champion demanded as she entered the passageway beneath the peak of Mount Coronet. The cave was cool and blessedly quiet, and she only stopped moving when she received her response.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

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NOW

As always, the challenger had put up a very good fight.

“Will this be the last time I see you?” the champion asked, almost bored in her victory. The challenger just glared at her, returning their fainted pokémon to their pocket.

“One can hope,” they said, and revealed their knife. If repetition with the expectation of different result was insanity, then they were no longer insane. Because this approach, this last-ditch effort, was entirely unprecedented—even to Arceus itself.

Using their last reserves of energy and strength, the challenger seized the woman. Short of stature and physically softened by ages of casual godhood, she could show little resistance to even the oldest of heroes. And, of course, there was the matter of the blade held to her throat.

“He will lower himself from the heavens and face me,” the challenger said between gritted teeth. The champion swallowed.

“Arceus has driven you to this,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Lord Volo has driven me to this. Arceus has only ever encouraged me to be better.”

“Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.”

The challenger’s eyed widened. “How do you…?”

The champion sighed. “I heard it too. Every single time.” She was infuriatingly unfazed by the threat to her life. “How relieving it must be,” she said, “to lose the memory of each of your losses.”

“I find it rather inconvenient, actually,” shot back the challenger, holding the blade closer to her throat.

The champion smiled sadly and shook her head.

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BEFORE

Eventually, she found herself trying to lose.

The fight with Volo had become like second nature to the champion, who since her first attempt had assembled the ideal team to counter his specific pokémon and fighting habits. Arceus knew she had been given enough attempts to observe him, some of which ended before Giratina even appeared. Volo was undeniably skilled, and dedicated to his own victory in a way that consistently astounded the champion. But while each new battle seemed to be Volo’s first, his memory struck of previous victories and defeats, the champion remembered everything.

At this point, she knew Volo almost entirely as the man she’d truly met atop Mount Coronet. Memories of their previous friendship lingered in small instances, but she had lost much of her attachment to his formerly comforting presence. This made it easier for her, as Arceus’s champion, to study and practice and try again and again and again.

She was confident, now, that she could defeat him. Him and Giratina, and then she would finally witness the world after such events transpired. Would he give up immediately, or try to harm her further? Would they finally speak as their true selves, or would he just disappear? If he did disappear, would he be gone forever?

The champion was still far from completing the the Pokédex and meeting Arceus, who only potentially could send her home. In the meantime, she would still be stuck in Hisui, alone. Almost certainly without him.

The outfit was not… irredeemably ill-conceived. With some modifications, she could understand the vision. And it would be easy for Volo to take down the Arceus style, allowing his hair to flow naturally. When the champion watched him during their battles, she often tried to imagine him in a different state of mind. She analyzed what she understood of his plans, was reluctantly impressed by his enduring commitment to his own aspirations. She got the best impression she could of the real Volo, a friend and a stranger and her only companion in this endless cycle of failure.

She never spoke to him. The idea of conversation felt wrong, as if disturbing a scripted play or painting over a work of art. And besides, even if she managed to change the narrative through speech, her inevitable failure would render the results meaningless. She would, always, try again. Until she won, she would try again.

As she approach the Temple of Sinnoh once again, the champion thought that she might be going insane. It made no sense, that she had not yet used her knowledge and practice to end this cycle. But every time she had the chance, she just… couldn’t. She would lose, retreat to the cave, call Arceus, and receive the same answer each time.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

There had been a few close calls, where she’d almost won. Especially against Giratina, she often stood a very good chance. But then she would remind herself that this was not fair in the slightest, because she had been given infinite chances to practice and strategize. Yes, Volo had technically cheated as well, but abusing Arceus’s blessing in such a manner simply felt cheap.

That was what she told herself. Eventually, someday, she would see an opportunity for victory that she could truly call fair, and she would take it. But until then, she would just have to lose.

And he would still be here. Insane, but here.

Insane.

She was going insane.

“I think I’m going insane,” she told Arceus after yet another loss.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

“I know I’m going insane.”

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

“Why don’t you try, for once?” the champion challenged, gripping the phone tightly.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

And then, she thought it. For the first time in what felt like an eternity of repetition, she finally thought something new:

“Why can’t I lose?” the champion asked, her voice shaking as tears ran down her cheeks. She did not understand what she was asking, exactly—she could not lose because Arceus had blessed her, that much was already obvious. The world, this world, worked in her favor in some unearned and unwanted way. Yes, she could retreat from the mountain at any time to train her team, but that still left Volo up in the temple, nearly indistinguishable from the person she had grown to love. He would not follow her, would not attempt to seize the plates by any other means, seemingly frozen in time and place by divine circumstance. She would never have her former friend back, and if she moved forward, Arceus would never allow her to befriend him as he was now.

And she—

She would just keep going, in Volo’s absence. If not this battle, she would be fighting another. Again and again and again, until Arceus deemed her worthy. Arceus, who had lied to her, manipulated her, taken her from her home without her knowledge or consent. Who had created this world and its mysterious mechanics, blessing—no, cursing—her to endure.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

God’s champion hung up the phone.

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NOW

Much to the challenger’s surprise, Lord Volo had not immediately arrived to save his champion.

“He can see this, right?” they demanded, as their arms grew increasingly tired around her.

She scoffed. “Of course he can.”

“So why isn’t he coming? Perhaps he cares less for you than you believed.”

The champion met the challenger’s gaze. “He knows that you would never actually murder me. That is not becoming of the world he designed.”

The challenger narrowed their eyes. This had always been a possibility. “Fine,” they said. “But would your Lord stand by while you are in pain?”

For the first time, the champion looked afraid. “I—”

The challenger plunged their knife into her fine white silks.

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BEFORE

The champion surrendered.

It was not a victory, nor was it any sort of defeat she had experienced before. Instead of intentionally losing the fight, she had refused to even allow its commencement. She had approached Volo where he stood, suspended in space and time, and offered him her satchel containing the plates of Arceus.

He stared at it, pupils shrunken and hungry. A smile crept onto his face. “How precious,” he said, almost tenderly. “You only needed a moment to think, before deciding to see things my way.”

The champion scowled. To him, it had been only a moment.

“You’re insane,” she said, showing no resistance when he began to take the satchel from her. He paused, though, upon hearing her first words towards his true self.

“Did you not listen in the ruins?” he asked, slight irritability piercing through his mania. “My reasoning is entirely rational. If God did not want to run the risk of its power falling into our hands, it should not have created its plates on our mortal plane. It is my right to seize them, and use that power to create a better world.”

“You could make this world a better place.”

Volo shook his head, smiling sadly. “Can’t be done. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“You made it better for me.”

The words left her mouth before she could stop them. She was so, so tired.

Volo narrowed his eyes, pupils still tiny but slightly more focused. “Whatever could you mean by that, hero?”

“You know my name,” said the champion, cursing her voice for cracking at the last word.

Volo looked properly confused, now. Especially as the champion began to shake. “What are you—”

“Just take it,” the champion said, feeling that lump in her throat again. She had felt so strong, when she’d hung up the ArcPhone in the cave. Self-assured, energized by the notion of ending this vicious cycle. It had seemed, if only for a moment, that she had found a way to truly win.

This did not feel like winning.

“Just fucking take it,” the champion repeated, shoving the satchel towards Volo. He did without further comment, but did not immediately dig inside. He only watched her, still far from sane but seemingly calmer at least.

Volo furrowed his brow. “You said I made the world better, for you. But I was using you. I am the reason for your existence here. You should hate me.”

The champion shook her head as a tear ran down her cheek. “I don’t hate you.”

“Don’t be foolish.”

She winced.

Volo studied her carefully. “What,” he said, “do you think your god would say of this?”

The champion shut her eyes. “Arceus doesn’t care about me.”

“Of course it does. It has chosen you to receive its blessings. It loves you, as it will never love—” Volo cut himself off, though of course she understood how the sentence would have ended.

The champion felt pathetic as she met his eyes. “I love you.”

He blinked. “How?”

“I just do.”

Volo began to pace, shifting into a paranoid state. “A trick from Arceus,” he muttered to himself, clutching the satchel close to his chest. “A test? No, a safeguard—a temptation…”

A temptation?

“This is all by design,” Volo continued to ramble, “If I allow for this endearment, for this enduring desire—”

Enduring desire?

“I must be strong. There must be a better world. I must not allow myself to—”

“Was any of it real?” the champion asked, point-blank.

“Yes,” Volo said at once.

“Which parts were fake?”

“The parts that mattered.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to understand. Volo sighed.

“The parts vital to my mission,” he clarified, “were false. The merchant charade, the search for the plates.”

“And that’s what mattered?”

Volo avoided her eyes. “Nothing else can matter in this world,” he told the champion. “Nothing else will remain.”

He looked haggard, as if this was a truth he’d refused to admit to himself before having it forced from his lips.

“It has never been my intention to carry over unwilling parties,” Volo reluctantly explained. “Involuntary acquiescence has no place in my better world.”

“What about lying and manipulation?” the champion asked. “And erasing everyone and everything that came before it?”

Exhausted, Volo gave his response: “I said ‘better.’ Not perfect.”

After a moment, the champion replied. “It mattered,” she said quietly. “To me.”

“Your mission?”

“Us.”

Volo regarded her as if for the very first time. “Us.”

She stepped forward slightly, reaching for his hand. He allowed her to take it, using the other to clutch her satchel.

“Do you want them to remain, in your new world?” the champion asked, looking into Volo’s wide exposed eye. “The parts that were real?”

He gave the slightest of nods.

She could not have him in this world. She could either continue this endless loop of suffering, or defeat him and likely never see him again. And it wasn’t just Volo who mattered, but the champion herself—with Arceus as her god, she knew that she would never truly be free.

“Is this the right decision?” she asked Volo, squeezing his hand tightly. He gently leaned down to place her satchel on the temple floor, then used his other hand to stroke her face.

“Must there always be a right decision and a wrong decision?”

“I should be ashamed.”

“I disagree.”

“What if I’m insane?”

“I would say that you are just as sane as I am,” Volo reasoned, “if you wish to remain by my side.”

The champion frowned. “That is not a reassuring statement.”

“It is all I can offer,” Volo said, holding her hand to his heart. Then, with a small smile: “That, and—”

He kissed her on the lips. When he pulled back, his eyes were almost back to normal.

“So?” Volo asked, eager and curious just as the champion had remembered him. Her heart ached with the comfort of familiarity—lost in the cycle of repetition, she hadn’t even realized how much she missed her former friend.

“It’s not perfect,” she said, “but it’s better.” She allowed herself to finally relax as Volo held her close.

Keeping one arm around his champion’s waist, Volo leaned down to retrieve the satchel once again. Despite her divine mission, the champion did not intervene.

“Very good,” Volo praised. His voice was warm and earnest, lacking the condescension one would usually associate with such a statement. “Now, rest. You’ve done more than enough already.”

And with that, at least, the champion could wholeheartedly agree.

─────────────────

NOW

Lord Volo appeared at once.

The challenger stepped away from the champion, their hands shaking as the knife clattered to the temple floor. Violence was a rare occurrence in this world, and murder was almost entirely unheard of—yet here they were, resorting to the former and possibly the latter as a desperate final effort.

“This was my mission,” the challenger prayed to Arceus as a figure descended from a shimmery stairway to the heavens. “Now please, give me strength...”

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

“No, I haven’t! I’ve won—look, he’s coming now!”

Lord Volo was a tall man, appearing much as he’d been depicted in historical records and famous works of art: blonde, pale, draped in white silks resembling those of his champion. He reached the bottom stair and stepped onto the world he had created, barely giving the challenger a glance as he walked right by.

Thou hast been defeated in battle, the voice of Arceus said. Thou shalt try again.

But the challenger was not beaten yet.

They reached for the knife, even as their joints ached. Lord Volo disappeared the weapon with a flick of his wrist. He then took his champion in his arms and placed her onto the bench, speaking words that the challenger could not hear.

She seemed to be speaking, as well. Alive. Despite everything, the challenger felt relief at that.

There was a sort of peace, in knowing that this was the challenger’s final try. Their pokémon were fainted, their god had seemingly abandoned them, they had compromised their own values out of desperation after a lifetime of repeated failures. Now, Lord Volo would disappear them just as he had the knife.

At least in oblivion, the challenger would finally be able to rest.

The champion muttered something more to her god, who then turned to face the challenger. He did not look happy, but seemed to be exercising some kind of restraint.

He looked back at the champion, who nodded. Lord Volo sighed.

“Very well,” he said, and flicked his wrist again. The challenger inhaled sharply, and then they

─────────────────

In the heavens, he saw to her healing.

“I’m sorry,” Volo said for what felt like the millionth time, although it would never truly be enough. He held a hand over his champion’s wound, glowing gold with healing light. “I’m sorry, and I love you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” the champion said, kissing the side of his other hand. “The rosiness had begun to return to her skin, her deific attire now clean of the blood that had stained it. “I understood the risks of going down there undisguised.”

“That isn’t supposed to happen, though,” Volo said, trying to mind his temper as he channelled healing towards the champion’s wound. “Violence and murder, they’re not—not a part of our world.”

“Neither is the voice of Arceus,” the champion countered. “But even from within its containment, it still finds a way to haunt its champion.”

She glanced pointedly towards the pokéball on Volo’s hip. He had wielded its power to destroy the old world and create this one anew, to grant himself and his partner endless life and a home in the heavens above. He supposed it made sense that if Arceus’s power still existed in this world, its voice could never truly disappear.

“What will happen now?” Volo asked, shifting slightly against the headboard of their bed. “Will there be another challenger?”

“Probably,” said the champion. “Eventually.”

“But the one who…?

“I think they’re safe. An infant without memory of their past life, reborn free of Arceus’s influence. Of all the people in this world, why would it choose them again?”

Volo frowned, thinking of the recent confrontation. “I wanted to destroy them, for what they did.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here,” teased the champion, “to make sure you don’t repeat old patterns.”

He smiled fondly, thinking of the many way they’d helped each other create this new world from the ashes of its predecessor. Not only was his champion beautiful, but she was also brilliant—always had been, although he’d been rather slow on the uptake. In Volo’s defense, he’d very much written her off as a loss before her surrender on Mount Coronet. It had been a matter of strategy, to avoid considering her inner life.

“Can I ask you something?” said Volo, watching his champion with endless interest. She nodded. “What changed your mind, in the cave?”

She looked surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“On the day that the old world fell, you initially ran away,” Volo recalled. “Disappeared into the passageway for only a moment, then emerged again to hand over the plates. Why?”

The champion appeared conflicted, which was not the desired outcome of Volo’s questioning. He had his suspicions, based on previous reactions around the subject, that this was not a memory she often wished to revisit.

“I felt defeated,” the champion said, “so I tried something new.”

Volo couldn’t help but think of the challenger, who his champion had always seemed to care for despite the annoyance they caused. Even after their unfathomable act of violence, she had insisted that Volo reincarnate them rather than destroy them entirely.

“Something new?” he asked the champion, as he felt her pain ease beneath his fingertips. “Had there been… something before?”

She nodded. “Over and over again. And I remembered everything.”

A chill ran down Volo’s spine. With this revelation, the champion’s requests to borrow his spiritomb while facing Arceus’s challenger made an entirely new sort of sense.

“You never told me,” he said.

“In a way, I did,” she replied with a soft smile. “When you suggested that we were both insane, I didn’t disagree.”

Still so very cryptic. Volo kissed the champion’s forehead, vowing to someday learn every secret within it.

“And how do you feel now?” he asked as the stab wound faded entirely from her skin. Good as new.

His champion regarded him knowingly, lovingly, shamelessly.

“I feel better.”

[demilypyro]

I like Surge so much you guys.

[infictionalwonderland]

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

[hannieehaee]

BOY WITH LUV

18+ / mdi

summary: a new job as a barista should be easy enough, right? except it gets a whole lot more complicated when the coffee shop's most loved client just decides he has to have you OR richboy!jk falls for barista!reader and refuses to give up.

content: richboy!jk, downbad!jk, barista!reader, sub-ish!jk, reader plays hard to get just for plot purposes, jk is down horribly bad for reader, afab reader, smut, dry humping, jk's the embodiment of needy, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.8k

a/n: another silly and unserious jungkook fanfic<3

masterlist | patreon

"Anyways just be careful with how many pumps you add to drinks. Customers can be extremely sensitive about that kind of stuff. Trust me," rambled on your new trainer, Jen? Jess? Something like that.

You watched disinterested, already having had a menial barista job in the past and being well aware of the high expectations of disgruntled customers. You, too, had been verbally harassed by one too many people in dire need of a drink far too specific for the average person to memorize. It was still appreciated, though, the effort she took in walking you through every step to ensure you did good at your new position.

Despite your focus on the task being demonstrated to you not being at its best, you did take notice when Jean(?) stopped her mentoring and instead spilled some of the drink she was currently making, clearly now equally as distracted as you. Her focus was no longer on the counter you were practicing drinks on, but instead looking past you and towards the counter a few steps behind you.

You meant to call out her name to question her, but without an angle on her name tag or any confidence in actually remembering the correct name, you simply grabbed at a nearby towel and cleaned off the mess, not bothering to look at whatever was distracting her. It was too early for you to bother.

Snapping out of her trance mere seconds later, she tapped at your shoulder urgently, her voice now a whisper as she leaned close for you to hear what she was about to say.

"Oh my God, don't look, but that's Jungkook," she whispered excitedly, as if letting you in on information you had any context about — hint: you had no idea who nor what she was referring to.

Turning around, you eyed another one of your new coworkers tending to the line at the counter, but more specifically helping out some guy. Focusing your eyes on him, you could now understand why his presence had caused a short-circuit in Jane (?) and why she felt the need to announce his presence to you.

The distraction in question presented itself in the form of a very tall and fit guy, one with a fully tattooed sleeve and dreamy black curls. Other outstanding attributes were the very obvious muscles encompassing his entire body and the shine that came from the various piercings on his face. In short, the man was nothing short of a dream straight from a Pinterest board — and the charisma radiating from his mere presence did not help matters.

"He's a regular. No one really knows much about him other than he's rich. He tips like 200% above his total," continued June, still leaning in your direction to whisper.

You felt bad at how obvious you were whilst staring at the boy, but he was likely the prettiest one you'd seen in a while. The blank expression in your stare did not tell on you, but it did not deny the fact that you were staring.

"We take turns serving him," your coworker informed you, "Sometimes we fight over it. He's a natural flirt, but he does it with everyone, so we're not sure if he's taken or not," she proceeded to tell you benign details about him that had you nodding along as you continued to stare at him.

The usually fast-paced place seemed to slow down when he entered the coffee shop, with most baristas' attentions going to him rather than their jobs. If he was aware of it, he was good at ignoring it, instead giving a flashy smile to the lucky barista currently tending to him. From the short distance between you, you were unable to hear his conversation, but you still had a perfect view of him as he simply existed. He could easily see you, as there was nothing in his way, but he hadn't yet, somehow oblivious to the attention he was receiving from all other baristas in the house.

As time stood still for everyone else, it continued normally for him. He paid for his drink, having it quickly bypass all other prior orders and made immediately by one of the many girls fawning at him. God, even the two baristas working the drive-thru had taken a short break from it go gawk.

It wasn't until moments later that Jungkook seemed to get a taste of his own medicine, with his own time suddenly coming to a halt. As he turned around to leave, sweet drink now in hand, his eyes incidentally met yours, causing him to pause mid turn and do a double take in order to catch your eyes again.

It was ridiculous, really. Almost too identical to those moments you'd see in those dumb romcoms you used to enjoy as a teenager. Except this was actually happening. And it was happening to you. As all your new coworkers watched his every move with extreme attention.

His eyes widened a bit. It was something the naked eye might've missed, but not you (nor the other five girls watching). His head tilted a bit to the side — maybe in curiosity due to not having seen you there before (Joanne did mention he was a regular). A ghost of a smirk took over the natural smile that had been on his lips since arrival. And lastly, a nod was sent your way — a nod in acknowledgment to your presence, but also with a flirtatious hint to it. It was hard to describe. You simply had to be there.

You remained watching him with a poker face throughout. The same poker face you'd had since clocking in to work that morning. It wasn't that you were mean or not a people person, you simply hated work. You'd been told you had a bit of a resting bitch face and gave a mean impression to those who didn't know you, but that was beside the point. The pretty boy whose attention you'd caught had gotten lucky, though, as he at least received the ghost of a smile from you before he left.

The first thing to occur upon his departure was a squeal from your left. The perpetrator? Julie (or whatever her name was).

"Oh my god!," she let out, grabbing onto your shoulder so you'd face her, "Did you see that?"

"See what?", you asked, not 100% sure of what had just happened.

"He totally checked you out . He's never done that before. Maybe he likes you? God, don't let Lila find out, she's got a huge crush on him," she informed you, once again assuming you knew who the hell Lila was.

"Hah, I think he might've just been surprised to see a new face," you downplayed, "What were you explaining before he got here? The thing with the pumps and the-"

"He comes here every morning at 8 or so. How about you take his order tomorrow? Y'know, just to test my theory," she suggested, disregarding your question.

"Orders? It's my first day here. Isn't training like two weeks lon-"

"It's fine! I'll be shadowing you. You'll do great! Now let's get back to your training-"

"Jane! I need more change at drive thru!", called one of the drive thru girls, interrupting your conversation.

"Coming, Lila!", she responded, giving you a polite smile before handing you the shaker she had just been holding, "Just practice some drinks how I taught you. I'll be right back to show you how to work the register."

So her name was Jane. And that was Lila.

At least you learned something today.

The subject of Jungkook stayed for a while after he left.

As you got to know a few of your other coworkers during your shift, you came to learn more useless details about him. Useless due to the fact that none of your coworkers had ever actually had a real conversation with him. It appeared as if he was always in a rush any time he stopped by. This bit of knowledge made it even more scandalous among your coworkers that Jungkook had stopped to blatantly check you out before continuing with his busy day.

And so the next day, you were admittedly a bit nervous when they'd suddenly prepped you for cashier duties only one day on the job. You'd done this before, but it was always slightly nerve wracking working a new cash register system and dealing with an entirely different hurdle of customers. That and the fact that you knew all your coworkers were awaiting the moment in which Jungkook came back, only this time he'd get a one-on-one with you.

For one, you didn't believe the suspicion that he liked you.

It was impossible to assert that from the simple one-over he'd given you. But then again, you didn't know the guy as well as your coworkers claimed to.

It was at 8:17AM that the theory was finally tested, when a certain heartthrob walked through the glass doors with all the charismatic energy a person could possibly carry.

He looked as handsome as he did the day prior, especially because now you had a beeline view of him, simply waiting for his arrival on the other side of the counter. His hair was wavier today somehow, and he donned a tight short-sleeve that gave you the perfect view of a sleeve full of colorful tattoos — fuck. His jeans were loose but still gave you a nice view of his physique. It was easy to tell the man was ripped to hell, yet another probable reason as to why your coworkers were all in love with him. Chunky shoes and shiny piercings accessorized his outfit, bringing an edge of grunginess you typically enjoyed in guys.

All things considered, he seemed just like your type.

However, the concept of even crushing on a guy that had every other girl at his feet sounded far too exhausting. You were just not into the idea of chasing after a guy who had a line of women waiting for their turn (or just chasing any guy in general). Today you'd simply serve his drink to prove a point and put an end to any possibility of even a mere flirtation with Jungkook before it even began.

Somehow, he hadn't taken note of you until reaching the cash register, too distracted by his phone as he made what was likely a familiar path for him — he was a regular, after all.

When he reached you, finally putting his phone away, he reacted similarly to last time, doing a double take before letting his eyes land on you for a more permanent stay. His mouth opened and closed a few times, hands reaching up as if undecided on what to entertain themselves with and remaining awkwardly on the air. A gulp took over his voice before he shook his head slightly to clear his head.

"Hi," he began, "You're new."

"Hi, yeah. What can I get for you today?," you got straight to the point.

As flattering as his reaction to you was, a line would probably form any minute now, and you'd already been thrown to the wolves, so you needed to move things along. There's never any time to waste in customer service.

"Oh, uh, the other baristas know my usual — but, uh you're new, like you just said, so, it's uhm just an americano. Medium, please," he rambled, not smooth like you'd expected someone as handsome and put together to be.

Your chuckle couldn't be helped, but at least it wasn't the girlish giggle you truly felt like letting out in the presence of such a man, "Yeah, okay. That'll be $4.95. Anything else?"

He stared at you blankly for a few moments, two silent blinks trapping his large eyes before clearing his throat, causing you to look up from the cash register to give him a curious look, hoping that was enough of a silent indicator at him to speak up.

"Your number, maybe?"

Admittedly, this caught you off guard.

You were surprised at the swift shift in confidence in Jungkook. Literal moments ago he was stammering his way through a sentence, yet the second time you looked up from the cash register he began to sport a cocky smile, confidently leaning against the counter separating you.

"God, you're gorgeous," he then added, eyes moony as he stared at you. It was said with a clear lack of thoughts in his brain, though also with an air of confidence, almost as if he were stating an irrefutable fact.

"Uhm, thanks," you mumbled, taking the money he was currently handing you with an awkward smile, "Okay, got a $5," you recited the usual cashier dialogue as you dug into the register for his change, "Here's your change. Your drink will be ready in a few minutes."

He took it, eyes still glued to yours with a dreamy smile on his face. Tilting his head to the side, his smile widened, "So, no number?", he asked with a teasing tone.

"Sorry, not allowed to give it to customers," you lied, "What's your name? Need it for the order," you asked despite already knowing his name. Disclosing this information would've only made him more adamant in asking for your information.

"That's a lie. Most of your coworkers have slipped me their numbers before," he called you out nonchalantly before giving you his name without any further argument, "What's your name? You don't have a name tag on," he seemed very okay with continuing with the small talk as much as possible, ignoring how your eyes looked past him to eye the line that had began forming.

You sighed, noting how settled he was on his spot, with his arms now leaning comfortably on the counter. He was clearly not going to leave with at least something from you.

You gave him your name, adding reluctance to your tone, attempting to send a message of disinterest.

Lifting his hand, he reached to yours which was currently lying on top of the screen of the cash register, softly grabbing its limp form to offer you a handshake. You did not grasp his hand in yours in return, making the handshake one-sided.

"Very nice meeting you. You'll be seeing me very often, gorgeous," he winked, dropping a bill way too high for a $4.99 order into the small tips cup on the counter and finally walking away as suave as humanly possible.

Internally, you groaned, knowing this was going to be the topic of conversation as soon as you clocked out for your break.

As expected, a few of your coworkers squealed at you immediately after Jungkook's departure, rambling about how clear it was that he was into you. And yes, that much was obvious — especially considering the large $20 tip he'd left you for merely taking his order. It was difficult to not give into their encouragement to ask him out or to at least respond to his advancements next time.

Most of your coworkers expressed happiness for you, simply enjoying the sight of the pretty boy coming around on a daily basis, while one or two seemed to grow an immediate dislike for you upon his sudden interest in you. Regardless, you wished to steer clear of any emotions his crush on you could bring. All you wanted out of this job was to clock in and clock out and call it a day.

The next time you saw him was two days later when you were finally scheduled to work again. Once more, you found yourself at the cashier once again. Despite it being your first week, your trainer had decided that you seemed apt for the task after the test trial with Jungkook a few days prior, so cashier duties were now assigned to you.

You didn't mind this. It was a straight forward task and far more preferable to drive-thru or clean up duty. However, you couldn't lie in saying you weren't a little on edge at the thought of interacting with Jungkook again. So maybe you spent an extra five minutes this morning on your makeup, so what?

You spent most of your morning taking orders for the early risers that frequented the store. They were all pretty nice, likely too tired at such an early hour to trouble the baristas in charge of their morning dosage of caffeine.

"Hey, gorgeous," were the words that took you out of your thoughts, calling your attention to the boy you'd been subconsciously thinking about all morning.

"Hello, Jungkook. What can I help you with?", you readied yourself to enter his drink on the register.

"What, don't remember my order? Missed you the past few days, by the way. Where'd you go?", he pouted.

"Sorry, not good at memorizing customers' orders, you're going to have to remind me. And I was off this weekend," you were straight forward in your responses.

Similarly to last time, he leaned on the counter, diminishing the distance between you as much as possible before speaking again, a smirk still present on his face.

"That's no problem, gorgeous, I'll remind you every day. Any chance you're nearing your break any time soon?", he questioned with confidence, repeating his order afterwards for you to type into the system.

You sighed, interrupting your work to respond, "No, I-"

"Actually, yes!", interrupted a sudden third voice.

You turned your head to the side to look at the intruder. It was Jane, of course.

"She's been working all morning. She's due for her 15," she let out, pushing you away from the cash register to take your place, "I'll work your order for her," she insisted.

"Great," Jungkook smiled at you in triumph, "In that case, throw in some cake pops in for my new friend," he went to take out some cash, handing what was likely too much to Jane and insisting she keep the change.

Turning his eyes back for you, he nodded in his direction as a silent request that you round the counter and head over to his side. Jane somehow completed his order in artful speed and handed it over to you with a wink before nudging you to encourage you to go. With a slight scowl, you did as suggested, handing Jungkook his drink and cake pops before he gave one back for you.

He began walking over to an empty counter, leaning against it and inviting you to do the same. Very casually, he drank from his drink and took a bite from his cake pop as he offered the other one out to you, chuckling when you grabbed it with reluctance.

"C'mon don't act like I got you hostage."

"You kinda do. My break wasn't until another twenty minutes. This just means I'll have to stay another half an hour," you quipped, more contrarian than anything.

He liked this, it seemed, indicating his amusement with another chuckle. It was probably not usual for him be met with much resistance to his flirting. And it wasn't as if it didn't work on you (it did). You were just not very willing to focus on it over your job — as menial as it was.

"I'll cover your overtime, gorgeous, don't worry about that," he smirked, "What time does your shift end anyway?"

"Hah, wouldn't you like to know?", you laughed antagonistically, continuing to nab at the sweet treat he'd given you.

Taking a step forward, he got up in your personal space. It wasn't an intimate type of closeness, but rather a standoffish one. He was challenging your own defiance against his flirting.

"You are aware I'm flirting with you, right?"

"Very."

Another amused chuckle left him, "How many visits is it gonna take me for you to reciprocate?", he asked, "Fine, maybe being so forward after my second visit was a bit too much, but I'm willing to play the long game if you are."

You listened to him with the ghost of a pleased smile on your face. Fine, maybe he was attractive and likable too. You weren't about to shut him down so easily. Maybe the long game sounded good to you too.

Taking the rest of your cake pop into your mouth with one swoop, you gnawed at the leftover candy on the stick, sucking at it with a pop before eyeing him again and nodding at him.

"You're more than welcome to, Jungkook."

He nodded back, "Them I guess I'll be seeing you here tomorrow ..." he paused with a lift of his eyebrow, a silent question for your name and groaning when you continued to grin silently, "Come on! At least give me your name!"

The giggle left you before you could stop it, continuing to sound out your name to him as a sign of peace.

"Pretty name," he murmured to himself, "Same time tomorrow?", he asked before turning to leave.

"I'll be waiting."

In the following two weeks of working as many hours as possible at your new job, you were finally no longer in your training period. You were now considered as useful an employee as Jane and Lila, meaning you got your name tag and could now comfortably settle into your cashier position.

In these two weeks, you also saw Jungkook almost every day (sans those in which you were off).

It got to a point in which Jungkook would occasionally stop by a second time in the afternoon in search of a peek of you, usually proving unsuccessful, but still trying anyways.

As summer time ended, the mornings became more packed, meaning yours and Jungkook's encounters diminished in time due to the peak of clients in the mornings. Jungkook was not shy in expressing his disappointment at this, always giving you eyes to attempt to get you to stall on his orders so he could spend a little extra time at the counter with you, or even attempting to bribe you with tips so you'd give him your number (something which had almost worked a few times).

Now, an entire month into your job, it was safe to say that Jungkook's crush was more than mutual by this point (though it really always was).

Unfortunately, your back and forth was so limited that you were yet to really find out anything about the guy other than his first name. Apart from having a vague idea of his wealth, you didn't know any basic details such as his age, profession or even his last name.

To be fair, you had never attempted to learn more about him, but this was partially due to your belief that he must've just enjoyed your casual flirtation. Likely, he liked your hard-to-get personality and enjoyed attempting to break you down. He had never actually asked you out past that first time he invaded your break, after all.

Up until today, that is.

"Please let me steal you away for your break," were the first words the boy had spoken to you when he'd finally caught you at the cash register after days of missing you altogether, "Or! I can wait until you get off. I'm finally off work for a few days. Please don't make me beg. I will do it, but it won't be pretty for anyone."

You sighed, fake annoyed at the gigantic pout on his face, "You've seen me almost every other day," you started, only to be interrupted by him.

"But you're always busy! God, why do so many people need coffee anyways?"

"Ask yourself. You're a frequent client here."

"Yeah, but that's different! I don't even come here for the coffee anymore. It's too packed," he continued, peeking behind him for a moment to make sure he wasn't holding up a line.

"Really?", you decided to play with him, "Why do you come, then?"

He leaned in closer to the counter separating you, grin copying your own satisfied one, "You know, the least you could do is acknowledge my flirting. It'd be really mean if you didn't."

"Fine," you gave in, "I work a full day today, but my lunch is in twenty minutes. Now order before my manager scolds me for letting you loiter."

He scoffed, "All your coworkers love me, that could never happen. But fine. I'll have my usual," he conceded, "I'll be waiting for you over at a table outside. If you don't come, I'll become even more of a nuance," he threatened jokingly as you processed his order, taking his payment and handing him a receipt with a reluctant nod in agreement.

"Okay, leave!", you couldn't help but berate him as you handed him his drink — which, hard to admit, you knew by heart.

With another chuckle in your direction, he made a face at you and made his way out, making sure to leave a far too large tip before exiting.

The twenty minutes before your lunch were spent boringly to say the least. Not many customers were around at that time of day, so you spent most of your time lounging around the small bar and restocking any lids or cups you felt were low enough to be refurbished. Contrary to how you'd previously expressed yourself, you were actually looking forward to getting to hang with Jungkook.

He was fun, what could you say?

Just a few minutes before your lunch break actually began, a subtle knocking sound caught your attention, causing you to focus your view on one of the many windows in the shop. Looking in that direction, you caught a smiley Jungkook attempting to grab your attention, waving cutely when you finally noticed him.

"Are you done?", he mouthed through the window, hands making a 'come hither' motion to entice you into coming out, eyebrows lifted in anticipation.

It got increasingly difficult to hold back a smile any time Jungkook would do something unknowingly cute, but you still managed.

You looked at the clock hanging on the wall, noting you had two minutes until your break. Looking back and forth between the empty coffee shop and Jungkook fawning at you from the window, you made a decision. What were two minutes, anyways?

Shrugging, you gave him a small smile, you began heading outside after clocking out of your register, having to force back a giggle at how much bigger his own smile got at your reciprocation.

"Was that a smile I saw?", he grinned when you finally made it outside.

You rolled your eyes, though the ghost of a smile didn't leave you.

"Shut up. You got me for thirty minutes, don't waste it."

You walked side by side up until the table Jungkook had been sitting at, not taking a seat but standing next to it.

"Do I have permission to take you out?", he tried, biting his lip in hopeful anticipation.

Pretending to mull over it for a moment, you crossed your arms and pursed your lips, hmm'ing at the proposal.

"C'mon! You know I like you. All your coworkers know I like you. And, y'know what? I think you like me back- Okay, wait, don't give me that look. Fine, you at least tolerate me."

"And?"

"See! You didn't deny it. That's a step in the right direction. Let me take you out. Please? I'm not in this just for the chase, if that's what you're thinking," he practically pleaded, looking down at you with those gigantic eyes you were unsure if you were truly immune to.

"Then why me?", you asked, truly unsure.

"I don't know," he began, "Call it love at first sight, I guess? Do I need a reason to like you? There's too many. I like everything I've known about you," he finished with sincerity in his eyes.

But you couldn't really buy it so easily.

"Jungkook, you don't even know me."

"But I want to! That's the whole point of dating. C'mon, I won't get in the way of your job. I'll even take you out somewhere fancy. I know you like pastries, I always see you go for the sweet drinks rather than the coffees, and you always pair them with a cake pop. See? I know as much about you as you've allowed me to know," he braved it and stepped closer, grabbing onto your hand tentatively, "So, please?"

You huffed, looking down before looking back at him, attempting to force the endeared smile out of your face.

"Fine. You can take me out. But not right now. If you want to take me out, you have to wow me. A measly thirty minutes in my work apron is not enough."

He took a few moments to wipe the huge smile off his face before responding, clearing his throat before doing so.

"Completely valid. Give me your number so you can text me your address and any time you'll be free for me to wow you," he handed you his phone, taking yours in exchange.

"Really? Any time?", you asked as you absentmindedly added your contact info to his phone, "Don't you have a job or something?"

"Huh, now who's the one who wants to get to know me?", he smirked lightheartedly, "That's for you to find out at our date," he went to hand your phone back, "Now, if I'm not mistaken, I still have an allotted seventeen minutes to spend with you."

In usual Jungkook fashion, he insisted on buying you something to eat from your own establishment, huffing at any suggestion for you to use your employee benefits and leaving a large tip as per usual. Whatever was his job, it must've left him more than satisfied. It made you curious, though his personality was even more intriguing. Against how you may have presented your lack of enthusiasm, you were quite excited for your upcoming date.

The next time you saw Jungkook, you got a very clear idea of what his job must be. Or at least of which tax bracket he sat comfortably at.

You weren't sure what model of car sat in front of your apartment at this moment, but you were sure it was worth beyond the money you'd see in this lifetime. There was also no doubt it belonged to Jungkook. The personalized JK1997 license plate was good enough indicator of its owner.

After giving Jungkook your number, you became victim to a myriad of messages from him from that moment on. Not only did he make plans for your date, but he also took advantage of how easily reachable you had become and chose to display his affection for you in the form of endless messages.

You couldn't lie to yourself, it was fun to have a guy so deeply interested despite your constant indifference towards him, specially if it was a guy that looked like Jungkook.

His messages varied from flirtatious to friendly to downright thirsty — there had been an instance of him sending you a picture of him at the gym, one which you shamelessly saved to your camera roll. You'd tease him about sending pictures back, but the most you ever gave him were selfies (to which he responded with threads of heart eyes).

Your date had been planned almost immediately. Jungkook, claiming himself a romantic, insisted on not telling you his plans, but did recommend you wear a pretty dress and some cute heels. He ached to see you all dolled up for him (his exact words).

Part of you wanted to be a brat (as he seemed to enjoy) and deny him of this pleasure. But a bigger part of you as tired of rejecting him and wanted to break him in different ways. And so you dressed up. You pulled out the dress you thought would wear him down the quickest, dolling yourself up to the best of your abilities and even donning the cutest pair of heels you could find.

The fruits of your labor manifested themselves in the form of a practically drooling Jungkook standing in front of your apartment door, stammering a greeting to you as his eyes went up and down your body multiple times, taking various stops at the parts he likely deemed his favorites.

He led you downstairs by your hand, groaning out loud at your perfume as he complimented it, claiming you must've wanted him dead before he even got to take you on your date. Maybe he was half right about that.

Once downstairs, he played dumb when you gaped at his expensive car, simply claiming that you deserved nothing but the best and opening the passenger door to you with a kiss to the pack of your hand.

His hand remained on your thigh the entire way over, nimble fingers occasionally tracing t the skin or sometimes even squeezing at the plushiness of it. You smiled in satisfaction at how blatant he was about wanting you. He'd always been loud and proud about it, but the reactions he was giving you tonight inflated your ego tenfold.

The restaurant was, once again, another demonstration of his wealth. This time you scoffed at any other suggestion to him being rich, to which he simply chuckled as he allowed the host to lead you over to your seats — some which he'd introduced as the best in the house.

"Are you going to tell me what you do for a living or should I start speculating?", you asked after a few sips of wine.

"What are your thoughts?", he decided to entertain you.

"You're in the mafia, maybe? Or a nepo baby? One of your parents married into wealth? You don't seem the lottery type. You look like you're very well accustomed to being rich," you began speculating, enjoying his amusement at you.

"All very fine guesses, but no. Gonna have to try harder."

"Can I bribe you into telling me?", there was a suggestive tilt to your tone.

"Please bribe me."

You giggled. You enjoyed how open he was about liking you. It was extremely refreshing. It was hard to remember now why you'd ignored his advances for months.

"Tell me," you whined.

"It's nothing exciting. I'm afraid you'll be bored by it," he clicked his tongue.

Maybe you should flip the script and show him your own interest?

Before you could decide, your body took control of its own, with your leg beginning to drag up and down his own under the table in a slow and seductive fashion. He instantly hiccuped at his drink when he felt the touch.

"Tell me?", you asked again, but your tone was far more convincing this time. You let the strap of your dress fall to the side, giving him a sneak peak at the strap hidden underneath it; the first hint at the pretty set you'd thrown on for later.

"A-ah, I'm just a video editor and producer. Nothing too exciting," he managed to not stutter too much as he felt your touch and allowed his eyes to zero in on the tiny sliver of bra.

"Oooh, sexy."

"Well, not as sexy as being a barista," he joked back through a stutter.

"Is that why you're always at the cafe? You're rich enough to not work a menial job like the rest of us peasants," you leaned towards the table a bit, foot continuing to tease at his leg.

"I'd say the pretty barista there is the bigger reason- Baby, you gotta stop doing that," he interrupted himself.

"What, I can't flirt with you? How's that fair?"

"You have the upper hand here. It's not fair!" he almost whined.

"Trust me, I could be doing much worse," you threatened with a smirk, "Don't make me sit next to you. I'll be even meaner up close."

He gaped at you for a few moments before readjusting himself on his seat, eyes trailing to your chest for a brief moment before attempting to refocus.

"Baby, did you enjoy your meal?", he suddenly switched the subject, sitting up straight now.

"We just got here," you tilted your head in confusion.

"Yeah, but, uh, I think I might've left my stove on. Come back home with me to check?"

Oh.

Well, that was fun enough for you.

But you could make it funner.

"But I wanted dessert," you pouted as you let your foot find higher heights on his legs.

"What I want isn't on the menu," he played along with a matching pout.

"Will you treat me to something good if I say yes?"

"I'll give you anything you want," he gave up on the double entendres, tone exasperated as he visibly itched to get up from his seat.

"Fine," you feigned disinterest, slowly getting up from your seat only to be rushed by Jungkook who had suddenly made his way over to your side of the table, ushering you out of your seat.

He scrambled through his wallet to grab a stack of cash, gesturing at the waiter to let him know it covered the bill and that he could keep any extra as a tip. You giggled as he dragged you away, not at all subtle in what his goal was. Even his grip on your wrist as he dragged you away was clear on its intent.

"Well, that was a shitty date," you deadpanned back in the car.

"You're the one who ruined it by playing footsie with me!", he rasped, attempting to focus on the road while you sat pretty beside him with an unspoken promise of sex as soon as you reached your destination.

You were happy to not be the one driving.

"But you said you'll treat me once we take care of your oven, right, Kookie?" you teased with a hand beginning to draw patterns on his leg, causing him to flinch with a whine.

"D-don't touch me! I will crash and I need you intact for I wanna do to you," he grumbled.

You laughed again, surrendering for the rest of the ride.

The next time you spoke was when Jungkook began pulling into a building that looked a few tax brackets above your own. It oozed luxury, being so high up that you could not see the end of it from the car window.

"A producer, huh? Dude, you're loaded. You could probably buy out the entire franchise of the cafe I work at," you marveled as you took in the expensive-looking parking lot you were pulling into.

"Can I? Will that get you to stop working and pay attention to me?," he pouted.

The sight gave you some cognitive dissonance. On one hand, you had an extremely attractive Jungkook donning what was likely an insanely expensive suit whilst maneuvering the car with only one hand. Meanwhile, you also had a needy boy pouting at you for your attention.

But you decided to play into the latter. The control he gave you was just too enjoyable.

"Needy," you teased.

"You have no idea."

And those were hid last words before he finally parked the car, rushing to get out and round it in order to help you out of your seat. It was embarrassing, really, the urgency in which he ushered you towards the lobby, practically dragging you all the way to the elevator before pressing a button far too high for the ride to be a short one.

Which was why you chose to take advantage of tour solitary surroundings whilst in that small ascending box.

Jungkook should've seen it coming, really. You hadn't been shy about being a tease back at the restaurant, nor had you really restrained yourself while in his car. It should've been obvious to him that you'd try and pull something whilst on the elevator too, right?

Wrong. Or well, at least if his whimper of surprise had been any indicator of his cluelessness.

The most sensible thing to do (in your horny opinion, at least) at that moment had been to corner him and catch him in a heated kiss. Apart from his initial surprise, it seemed like this was the right step to take, seeing as he fed into it immediately.

His hands were just as needy as his person, gluing themselves to your body and refusing to leave it for even a second. Every curve was felt and squeezed at as his tongue infiltrated your mouth. But his needy hands weren't even the best thing about him.

Your favorite thing was how shameless he was when it came to his sounds. If a mere kiss had him whimpering against you, you were ecstatic to know what second base would make him sound like.

Pulling at his hair, you pulled him away from you just so you could take a look at his dazed eyes (which were very adamantly glued to your lips). The sight was too pretty to ignore. But this lasted mere seconds before the poor boy drew you into another kiss, humming when you kissed back with the same amount of fervor.

Needy hands landed on your hips, long fingers digging into the plush and pushing them against his own. His hardness was already proudly present and dragging itself against whichever part of your body was closest. Pants were released right into your lips and suffocated against your tongue. No words were exchanged, as the sounds of clothes ruffling and tongues meeting were already loud enough.

Sadly, the beautiful art of dry humping had to be put to a stop when the elevator dinged, indicating you'd reached your destination.

True to his character, Jungkook whined again, immediately setting course for his apartment as he dragged you by the hand once again. You found your destination quite quickly as Jungkook fumbled to let the two of you in, practically pushing you in before closing the door behind him.

"Fuck, I want you so bad," he spoke for the first time as he pressed your lips together once more.

Blindly guiding you through his expansive apartment, he somehow managed to only bump twice before making it to his bed. Sadly, you were unable to take in your surroundings due to Jungkook's insistence in keeping your lips locked, but who were you to complain?

Landing on his bed, Jungkook remained standing, beginning to throw off his blazer and unbutton his shirt as you leaned back in a sitting position, legs spread to allow him to stand between them. You enjoyed the show, not even attempting to get yourself into any state of undress.

"Stop staring at me like that. You're making me nervous," he whined when he found himself finally shirtless, squinting at you as you quite literally ate him with your eyes.

You knew he'd be the prettiest sight from the moment you first spotted him, but he looked even better than you could've possibly imagined. He was clearly sculpted, but you didn't realize it'd be to this extent. Carrying a lean figure, every inch of his body still managed to contain toned muscle. The tattoo sleeve also did not help manners.

You ignored his whining, continuing to stare.

"Come up wrap me," you lifted your hands childishly as if to invite him to undress you, which he accepted happily.

Chuckling at your demeanor, his hands reached out to you, helping you stand up before blindly unzipping your dress and letting it fall down to reveal the other pretty garments you'd chosen to wear for him.

"Oh, you hate me," he mumbled upon a single view of what was hiding below your dress.

Pressing his forehead to your shoulder, he groaned, hands hanging by your sided as he appeared to apprehensive to touch you, not really knowing where to start.

"You haven't even looked at it yet!", you pouted, "I got it just for you. And it was expensive — maybe not by your standards, but," you shrugged.

His nose trailed its way to your neck by then, breathing you in and continuing to groan at the peak of lingerie he'd just gotten. There was no way he had gotten a good look from his proximity, but knowing that the mere suggestion of you dressing up for him already had him frustrated.

"I'll buy you a wardrobe full of them," he huffed whilst his hands felt you up, fingers lightly scratching at the lace barely covering your hips and breasts.

"If I rip it, will you be mad?", he asked after getting his fill of you. Your neck was practically wet with his saliva by then.

"Well, you did say you were gonna buy me more, so,"

Your statement was followed by a ripping sound coming from down south, your lower half now fully nude as you gasped.

"Jungkook!"

"Oh, these rip easily. That's good. I like these," he muttered, unhooking your bra before beginning to kiss his way to your breasts.

"K-kook, fuck."

His lips caught onto one of your breasts, tongue teasingly rounding the hardened bud in the middle before nipping lightly at it. A huff of air was released against your skin as he sighed in what you believed to be contentment.

"You're so pretty," he sounded pained as he said it.

He continued kissing at your breasts and feeling at your body for a few moments before laying you back on the bed, hands aiding you in scooting towards its middle so he could hover above you comfortably. His hands didn't leave you once, latched onto some part of your body at all times.

Trailing down with wet kisses, his lips acted as a magnet against your skin, finding their way to your middle slowly but desperately. Immediately once there, he nuzzled his nose into your bundle of nerves, sighing against it before letting his tongue get a taste.

"I- fuck, Kook," you sighed when you received a wide lick to your folds, followed by precise movements of his tongue.

Jungkook's proclivity towards oral became obvious quite quickly. It was as if he was trying to replace all the wetness seeping out of you with his own saliva. It sounded disgusting in theory, but felt far too good in practice.

"Hmm, fuck. Baby, I need to be able to breathe," he chuckled breathlessly when your thighs began squeezing around his head a little too harshly.

"It's your fault," was all you mumbled before whining at him to continue.

Unable to deny you anything, he kept going, tongue pointed as it poked and licked at your swollen pearl while his ring and middle finger slowly inserted themselves inside, doing a 'come hither' motion and gracing against your walls to perfection. The constant rumble of his groans against you did not really help matters either.

"You're too fucking good at this, shit," you groaned when he held you impossibly closer, nose rubbing against your clit as he licked at your hole maniacally.

"Just, fuck, it's so warn n pretty," mumbled the drunken man.

It made you pulse the way in which he described your cunt. Pretty had never been a word you'd considered, but who were you to oppose his expert opinion?

Far too soon, you felt your orgasm approach. All your senses were heightened. The smell of sweat, the feeling of his tongue against you, the sound of his grumbles of self-serving pleasure; you were done for.

When you came, it didn't come to you as a surprise when Jungkook refused to create any distance between you. His head remained buried between your legs, tongue lapping at you despite your body begging at him to stop. The sensitivity was high, but the pleasure was ever so present, you didn't have it in you to actually make him stop. Your hands dug into his hair even harder than before, though they were indecisive as to whether to pull him closer or away from you.

"God, fuck. I've been wanting to do that since I met you," he groaned out once he resurfaced.

He climbed beck up your limp and ruined body, kissing his way to your lips before nastily shoving his tongue in your mouth. Not bothering to ask whether or not you'd want to taste yourself, he took a wild guess and asserted you'd be enthusiastic in your reciprocation — which you clearly were, practically reaching down his throat with your own tongue.

Naturally, your bodies melded with one another as you kissed. Both pairs of hips became needy as they ground against each other. Bumping bellies, you ensured Jungkook remained trapping against you as you wrapped your legs around his nonexistent waist. He chuckled at this for half a second before continuing to devour your lips with his own, hips even more desperate than before.

"Wanna- fuck, wanna cum like this, but ... God, need to be inside you," he grunted out his predicament.

Pity.

Maybe you'd rebirth the lost art of dry humping some other day. It'd be far more fun to make Jungkook cum in his pants, after all. Why waste a perfectly naked Jungkook with some dry humping when he was already in a full state of undress?

"What are you waiting for?", you nudged him with your foot, opening your legs further to demonstrate your want for him.

"You're mean," he huffed as he kissed you before pulling himself away to scramble through his end table for a condom.

In an uncharacteristically non suave manner, Jungkook ripped the condom open with his mouth, peeling it over his hardness with an urgency that showed you just how needy he was. This caused you to giggle at the sight.

"You laugh now, but I'm about to fuck you into this bed," he grunted as he absentmindedly rewrapped your legs around his waist, ensuring you locked them behind his back so he could grab onto his cock and begin lining himself up.

"Fuck, baby, do you see that? So puffy and needy," he mocked, tip running up and down your folds, catching your clit long enough to make you gasp.

"Stop it. I'm the only one allowed to be mean," you complained, legs pulling him forward.

"Right," he chuckled, "What I'm about to do to you feels really mean, though."

"Jungkook, I swear to- F-fuck!"

"God, so fucking tight," he mumbled under his breath, "Feels even better than I imagined."

You panted for a few moments as you adjusted yourself to the huge intrusion, eyes faltering a bit.

"Thought about this a lot?"

"Every night, baby," he groaned when you gave him the green light to start moving.

With this, he began grinding into you with an intensity that showed you he'd been telling the truth. Despite how much of a mess he'd been throughout your date, his suave and confident persona was ever so present whilst fucking into you.

There seemed to be no thoughts in his mind that did not revolve around your pleasure. His pace was mind-numbing yet sensual, his fingers circled at your clit with the perfect precision, his lips never ceased in their smacking against your skin. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was trying to ruin you for any other man (hint: he was).

"Feels good, baby?," he grunted between thrusts, breathless and almost unable to form a sentence.

"K-kook-"

You were unable to formulate words, and he knew as much. Or at least that's what you got from the smirk pressed up against your cheek as he trailed back up to your lips.

"You're going to cum with me, right, pretty? Hmm?", his nose nudged your own, lips leaving teasing kisses against yours, "It'll feel so good, gorgeous, okay? I'm, fuck, I'm almost there."

"Kook, I'm c-cumming, sh-shit! Fuck!", you wailed when it finally hit you, having no time to feel embarrassed at how quickly it came. It had all been too much, but you were pretty sure Jungkook knew that.

He followed you into the abyss with a groan and a small bite down the skin of your shoulder. He hummed against the skin, getting it damp with saliva, but you didn't care. The heat from his body as he pressed you down onto his sheets created a damp sheen of sweat between you. It was all very humid and nasty, but the knowledge that Jungkook was currently creaming into a condom whilst buried inside you, mind lost as his sounds filled the room, was more than satisfactory to you.

"Fuck," he groaned once he slumped himself next to you.

He lazily slipped off the condom, throwing it at a trash can laid near his bed before nuzzling his body against your limp one. You had made no move since your orgasm, simply taking in the pleasure that had just invaded you mere minutes ago.

"You're dangerous for a barista."

"You knew this the moment you saw me. That's what you liked about me."

He hummed happily, "You should actually be mean to me next time. It'd be hot."

"Masochist," you laughed.

"Guilty."

"All the girls are gonna hate me when they realize I toon you off the market," you whined as you flipped yourself to your side, scooting closer to him and practically burying yourself in his skin.

"But you love that, don't you?", he chuckled.

You giggled back.

"Guilty."

to read short 2k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: more cafe shenanigans with reader and her coworkers, jungkook still being down bad, smut, afab reader, tit fucking, face riding, mentions of sexting, etc.

wc: 351 (teaser); 2k (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"What the hell are you doing here with those?"

"Is that how you welcome your boyfriend?"

Those were his last words before you rushed to round the counter and get him out of earshot, dragging him by the arm towards the exit. On his other arm, he held tightly onto the ridiculously large bouquet of flowers he'd entered the facility with mere moments ago.

"Woah, what's with the aggression?", he scoffed in jest when you finally made it far enough from your coworkers' eyes.

"Dude, I already told you Lila's been on my ass since she found out we're dating. You have got to stop bringing gifts to my workplace," you groaned, though still taking the flowers from him and giving him a peck as a form of thanks.

There had been a few instances already in which Jungkook had been far too loud and proud about your relationship whilst visiting you at your workplace. It always led to thin-veiled animosity between you and your coworkers.

"So? Who cares about Loraine, or whatever her name is?", he shrugged.

"I do! And it's not just her. They're all in love with you. And most of them keep giving me the cold shoulder because of you! Lila's just the worst of them."

He pouted and coo'd, chuckling when you complained at him for patronizing you. His arms wrapped around you, still chuckling in amusement at your predicament.

"Well, you won. You have me," he hummed in satisfaction.

"Pfft. As if I chased after you," you scoffed.

"Is that a challenge? I'm not afraid to go back in there and confess my love for you."

"Jungkook. No!"

"I won't. Just because," he stopped to check his watch, "it's 2:02pm, which means you get to clock out and I get to take you home. So get your pretty ass back in there so I can get my girlfriend in bed."

"It's two in the afternoon."

"I said what I said," he gave you one last squeeze before grabbing onto your hand and leading you towards the cafe you'd just technically kicked him out of.

...

find the continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[tiza0925]

okok hear me out but Akaashi dating reader and she has a spit kink 👉🏻👈🏻 you don't have to write anything about it but i would love to hear about it from you! (i love your works sm 💗)

…i think you’ve just woken something inside me, anon 🫠

Intimate | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, praise kink, jealous!reader, dom!Akaashi, raw sex, multiple orgasms, slight dumbification, squirting, pussy slapping, petnames, little bit of choking, overstimulation, creampie, spit kink ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You’re not a jealous person, you swear.

Your relationship with Akaashi is the most secure relationship you’ve ever been in—not once has he ever given you a reason to doubt him. 

To not trust him. 

He’s shown you nothing but respect, kindness—god, so much love and patience—ever since you two started dating. 

But—

Your jaw ticks as you watch a random girl get a little too close to him—watching how she laughs a little too much and looks at him with stars in her eyes. 

You can’t blame her, though—you look at him the same way—he’s good-looking and deserves to be appreciated for that. 

But that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t get to you whenever you see other people do it. 

Especially this particular girl who seems to refuse to leave his side ever since you two arrived at Kuroo’s house party. 

Because apparently—she’s close with Bokuto. 

Which means she knows Akaashi. 

But you barely hear Akaashi talk about her so it’s either he doesn’t see her as close as she thinks they are—

Or he’s hiding something from you. 

But that would be ridiculous—it’s Akaashi. 

He wouldn’t.

Right? 

You take a sip from your drink, then you turn to the person who’s currently talking to you—you think her name is Yachi—and you give her a slightly apologetic look as you walk away and straight towards him. 

And the girl that’s seemingly too giddy with whatever Akaashi is saying. 

It’s why you come up to his side with a small smile at the other girl, your arms around his waist, and Akaashi stops mid-sentence to look at you with a slightly concerned look—his one eyebrow raised as he asks in a soft murmur, “You okay?” 

You hum, a small smile threatens to pull at your mouth as he wraps one arm around you, holding you closer, and you nod. “Just tired.” 

He gives your waist a small squeeze, his voice a soft rumble against you. “Wanna go home then?” 

You blink up at him, then you quickly glance at the girl that was talking to him—and you feel a slight bud of satisfaction in your chest when you notice how annoyed she looks—and you nod, blinking up at him all sweetly. “Please?”

You end up in the passenger seat of his car a few moments later—looking out the window—as he drives you two home.

It’s quiet—comfortably so—as you watch light posts and buildings until—

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” 

You hear him ask that, his voice calm and quiet, and your eyes widen with surprise as your heart flips. 

You blink, turning to look at him—his eyes remaining on the road ahead—and you frown. “What?” 

“Suddenly wanting to go home and hugging me like that,” Akaashi then turns his head a little to give you a look like he knows something. “What was that about?” 

Oh. 

Was it that obvious how you felt? 

You blink. 

Silent. 

Then you swallow hard, playing dumb as you look away, murmuring, “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

But then you hear him let loose a low, caustic laugh—as if he doesn’t believe you—and you feel his hand, heavy and large on your thigh, with the heat seeping through your pants and skin, as he gives it a small squeeze. “Alright.” 

It’s how you end up with your face stuffed into a pillow, back arched, and ass out the moment you two arrive back home—

“Oh fuck—”

And you’re cumming around a thick cock with your moan getting muffled into the cushion. 

“Look how well you take me,” His voice comes out a low drawl, sounding so nonchalant as if he isn’t fucking you deep into your cunt with a harsh grip around your waist—holding you in place as Akaashi makes you take all of him with your orgasm throbbing through you. 

Your mind goes numb, and you whine when he drags his dick against your G-spot, overstimulating you. 

“Keiji—fuck—please—”

But then he pulls out—leaving you empty and pulsing around nothing—causing a trickle of your juice to leak out, and you let out a sudden cry when Akaashi leaves a harsh slap against your wet pussy with his hand. 

“Turn around.” 

Fuck. 

You listen almost immediately—moving to lay on your back, breathing heavily, and Akaashi smiles down at you from the bridge of his nose, admiring you for just a moment—

Then he’s hooking your legs over his shoulder—and your eyes grow wide when you feel the head of his cock slide over your drooling pussy, bumping your clit that has your head going dizzy, and then—

“Do you think she’d be able to take me as well as you do?”

Then he starts to ask that—in that taunting, calm voice of his—and your cheeks grow hot at the mere mention of that girl, jealousy pricking the edges of your vision and—

You whimper when he pushes his cock back inside you, filling you and making you feel so full as he rolls his hips against yours, building that sweet buzzing ache in your pussy again. 

Akaashi watches the way your cunt swallows him so perfectly—his girth opening you up as you cream all over him—and he wets his lips, his smirk turning lecherous. “You think she’d look this pretty around my cock too, baby?”

He’s not blind.

He can pick up on the small signs of jealousy from you with just a small look, word—even the way you act.

He’s observant—and he clearly didn’t miss the way you were eyeing that girl from earlier.

You suck in a large breath, feeling him in your damn throat as he fucks you languidly, and your voice is breathy when you bite out a response. “Why don’t you go and find out for yourself then.” 

Akaashi leans down and god—you sob out a moan when he nearly bends you in half, shoving his dick so deep into you that your entire body goes limp. 

You’re practically shaking as his lips hover over yours, and his eyes—all half-lidded as he observes you—grow alight with something darker and amused as he hums lowly. “I don’t think I will.” 

He pulls out, the tip of his dick catching your hole, then he immediately thrusts back in with one, harsh slap of his skin against yours—making you gasp as your juices gush out. “Nobody else can get messy like you do, baby.” 

His smirk comes slow and syrupy, his hooded eyes observing you—how your eyes are glossy with tears threatening to spill out—and he goes to pull on your lower lip with his mouth, kissing you so achingly soft despite the harsh fucking. “Nobody else feels this tight around me.” 

You moan against him, your arms numbly wrapping around his neck as you take his cock pushing in and out of you—your pussy swallowing him whole like it needs his dick in there. 

It’s so fucking needy that even when you feel him digging into your lungs with his cock—you still want more of him, that swelling ache in your clit just begging for it.

And god—he gives it to you. 

He fucks you with one hand coming to thumb your sensitive clit—rubbing it in slow circles with your juices coating it until you’re clenching around his cock, squeezing him and throbbing as you cum for a second time. 

“Shit,” Akaashi groans, driving into you as his head gets foggy with lust, and heat overwhelms him as you make a mess on you both—clear liquid squirting out of your poor little pussy with every rock of his hips, and tears finally spill down your cheeks with oversensitivity. 

“Don’t cry, angel,” Akaashi soothes you, his voice throaty and heavy, and his hand that was on your clit comes up to wipe your tears—spreading your fluids all over your face and getting you dirty as he calmly shushes you. “You asked for this.” 

You know. 

You just didn’t anticipate how intense Akaashi will be to make sure you know that you were being irrational for feeling jealous—to fuck you until you felt all loose and dumb from his dick that you can’t do or say anything but whimper and cry for him. 

God—

You suck in small, gasping breaths as he slides his hand down until he’s rolling his thumb over your bottom lip, and—

And then his pupils grow wide and dark, there’s a small tick at the side of his lips that looks carnal, and your heart leaps into your throat as he forces your mouth open as he presses down onto your lip—your heart thundering in your ears as you watch with shiny eyes, unsure what he plans to do until—

Until he also opens his mouth as well, and your mind grows heady with submission with your tongue out for him, your pussy clenching him so fucking tight as he lets a small, pearly glob of his saliva string down onto your tongue. 

And fuck—he lets out a low groan of approval, making your chest swell at how satisfied he looks as you please him. 

“Swallow.” His voice is so deceptively soft.

But you listen and swallow. 

With no hesitation. 

And it should feel gross with him spitting in your mouth like that—making you feel like some whore under him—

But instead—it does things to you. 

It makes things so much more fucking intimate. 

You keep eye contact with him as your throat bobs with an obedient swallow, your body moving with every thrust of him inside you, and Akaashi can’t help but lean down to kiss you so deeply that you shudder against him—

“Such a good girl for me—shit,” His hand comes to the front of your neck, his calloused fingers wrapping around it and giving it a little squeeze, making you moan as you sloppily kiss him back, your vision growing blurry. 

Then he leans back, hand still on your throat, and his chest rise and falls as he continues to fuck your abused pussy, your fluids making a mess, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your calf. 

“I want you to cum on my cock again, love, you do it so well for me.”

Then he brings his other hand to press on your lower stomach, making you keen with a wet moan—and you feel so fucked out and dumb in the head as another orgasm steadily pulses through you. 

“And say my name when you do, love,” Akaashi breathes out lowly, his dick in your guts as he pushes his hand down a little more, “Because nobody else gets to do that except you.” 

More clear liquid gushes out of you, spraying and squirting all over him as your legs shake with another orgasm for that night—his name on your tongue, making his head spin as he fucks you through it. 

And then he’s spurting out thick loads of his hot cum into your sore pussy, shoving it further into you with every push of his cock inside your walls—making sure you know that only you get to be marked like this by him. 

end.

Masterpost

[jaysng]

when your daughter walks in on you | pjs

pairing: husband!jay x wife!reader

genre: married au, comedy (tried my best), fluff

warnings: suggestive, jay sucking boobs like a madman

your husband has had an exhausting week and needed some way to relieve the stress he had related to his workplace. 

and that’s why, you were here know trapped in his hold in the kitchen, “missed you s’much baby” he said as he open mouthed-ly(?) tracing your neck leaving kissed and licks here and there til he reached your earlobe. 

as soon as you opened the door, he looked at you, yes with those goddamn eyes. next thing you know, you’re pulling him from his tie. “fuck can we do this? like in here—“ he asks as he lifts you up easily in one go and puts you on the counter“i have put her to sleep, use me all you want jay.” 

the approval was enough for jay to let his guard down as he dives in again attaching your lips with his, you were wearing a cute loose set of night wear with easy access, in one swift move he pulled your top down by the shoulders as he took a step back appreciating your mounds. 

giving each attention one by one, jay knew how needy you grew when he gave most of his attention to your chest he took your left nipple between his fingers and pinched it, fondling with the other one all while keeping eye contact.

“l-lick them jongseong, feels s’good when you do that” you said as you kept your hand on his, the one massaging your breast as he bend and took one of it in his mouth.

licking, sucking, making out messily with saliva everywhere as you arched your back with your hand on his hair and the other on your mouth to not disturb your ‘sleeping’ daugther. 

few minutes into it, jay felt your body really stiff, not squirming or whimpering anymore, maybe she’s too lost in i—

“appa don’t you think you’re abit to old to be doing that?” 

shit

shit

shit

oh fuck

his head shoots to the direction of the stairs as he sees your 4 year old daughter, half sleepy half astonished, wiping her eyes with her chubby hands. 

now standing straight, not knowing what to do he stares into blank space for a while then stares at you

blink

blink

“ah, yes.. baby uh…” you say breaking the silence as you thought, was better than the silence. “didn’t you say she’s asleep” he whispers, almost just mouths while shooting his big wide eyes at you. 

brushing a hand through your hair, you get of the counter “could’ve atleast pulled my shirt back up jay” you mouth another sentence at him blaming him in panic while fixing your top. 

“baby, weren’t you sleeping?” you ask as walk to her and run a hand over her head, “i dunno… eomma i heard sounds… breaking sounds! i thought bad people came in..” she says, still clumbsy with her words as you chuckled, 

“oh well, uh mommy and daddy were playing a game okay?” you mentally face palm yourself as you hear jay’s embarrassing made up excuse, still funny as even you were out of excuses— i mean what the hell would you tell your 4 year old daughter who just walked in on your husband with your titty in his mouth?? 

“hmm” she says as she looks around, honestly not taken aback or interested in it at all, thank god thank god she was in her sleepy state “i want ice cream” she demands as jay now picks her up in his arms.

the sigh of relief that left both of your mouth were synchronized, you knew your daughter and how she doesn’t process anything when she has just woken up, similarly and gladly this was the case as for what she just saw. 

“you can’t have ice cream baby, it’s midnight.” jay coos at her as she puts her face on jay’s neck and nods already drowsy and sleepy, you felt bad for her to be woken up and disturbed like that. 

shooting at sorry glance at jay who was pretty much sulky right now as the sexual tension was ‘ruined’ and probably not coming back again for today as your daughter was pretty much stuck by the glue to his chest as she slept.

putting her to bed, you entered the room as you found jay on the bed hands splayed around the bed, as the baby slept peacefully in her room now, the two of you exchanged knowing glances and started quietly chortling over what just happened

“a message would be good?” you say between the laughter sitting beside his laying figure putting his head on you lap. 

“massage it is.” he says, smiling with embarrassment.

[bleedingoptimism]

“I’m sorry Steve, I thought we were just having fun! I enjoyed you taking me out and paying for everything that’s all…” Is what Shelley said to him when Steve walked into the bar and saw her flirting with another guy. 

Obviously, he smiled and shook his head, said everything was okay, ‘Just a silly misunderstanding’ and left, ever so graceful. But the second he was outside he cursed, tried not to shed a tear, failed, and then started laughing. 

He probably looks like a mad man, or a drunk. But no, don’t worry people, he’s not drunk or crazy, he’s just really, really stupid. He thought Shelley really liked him, he thought they were dating. And Shelley just assumed he was just another playboy so she played him back. He’s not even mad at her. She didn't mean to hurt him. It’s not her fault Steve is just so easy to hurt. 

Sighing, he gets his phone out to get an uber and hugs himself even though it’s not really that cold outside, waiting for his car, already imagining the big, greasy burger he’s going to order when he gets home. He deserves it, okay?

The car that pulls out has definitely seen better days, but it’s clean and comfortable so Steve doesn’t think twice about getting in. He offers the driver a smile through the rearview mirror, sparing a moment to notice his eyes are big and dark, and they crinkle when he smiles back at him. 

Steve sits stiff and straight for a moment before realizing no one is there to judge him right now and he deflates, sighing again and letting himself collapse against the seat. Still hugging himself to feel any sort of comfort, he bumps his head against the window softly a couple of times. 

“Long night?” The driver asks him in a friendly manner.

Steve meets his eyes in the rearview again and shrugs, smiling back crookedly “Thought I should go home early since I already accomplished making an ass of myself for the night”

He checks the uber app for the driver’s name, doesn’t want to be rude by not remembering. ‘Eddie’ chuckles at Steve's statement.

“You did, huh? Well good job on getting it out of the way then,”

Steve chuckles back, “Yeah, I was actually thinking I deserve a treat”

He notices Eddie looking back at him a couple of times before breathing an interested, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “A huge cheesy burger or something” Wondering what Eddie was thinking he’d say.

Eddie laughs again, “Oh! Right of course” and just when he’s about to say something else his phone rings.

“Oh, sorry” Eddie murmurs, immediately hanging up on whoever is calling. 

“No worries,” Steve mumbles back, sitting up a little straighter again. 

“So, what’s your favorite dirty burger place?” Eddie asks him. 

Steve can tell he’s trying to distract him from the mood he entered the car with and he really appreciates it.

He sits forward and leans his forearms against the headrest of the passenger seat, “Oh, there’s so many, but…” from this angle, he can see Eddie’s face better, and he can’t help but think he’s got a really nice looking profile, long lashes, full lips, and the cutest nose he’s ever seen, “I think Benny’s the best one” he finishes.

Eddie pulls at a stop light and turns to look at him with a smile and he’s so much prettier than Steve first thought he involuntarily gasps. But thankfully Eddie is talking excitedly and doesn’t seem to notice.

“No way you know Benny’s?! Benny is my uncle! Well, he’s married to my uncle actually- you know what I mean but yeah, Benny’s is great!” 

It’s such a weird coincidence that it managed to take Steve out of his stupor and he’s suddenly just as excited as Eddie,

“Really? Oh my god, I’m so jealous right now, I wished I could live at Benny’s sometimes” 

Eddie laughs, and just when he opens his mouth to reply his phone rings again. This time he doesn’t immediately hang up and Steve sees the screen light up with the name “you deserve better” 

Ouch, he thinks, and his heartstrings tug for his cute, sweet, uber driver. Who offered him friendly conversation cause he noticed he was feeling down and has the most beautiful laugh. He doesn't really know why he feels so strongly about it, he doesn't even know Eddie… but he still feels the text is right. Whoever hurt him, Eddie deserved better.

“Hey,” He says softly when Eddie hangs up cursing.

Eddie sighs again, “I’m so sorry,” 

“Hey, no. It’s fine,” Steve replies, resisting the urge to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He figures, after the way his night started, he’s got nothing to lose so he says, “So much talk about Benny’s I feel like I need to go there right now.” 

Eddie let’s out a distracted “Huh?” and Steve soldiers on, “Wanna change the destination and join me? You can take me home after,”

He notices Eddie doing a double take and blushing, “Really? I- Am- I- okay” he stammers but Steve can’t really figure out why.

“Yeah, you know, that way you don’t lose time on the job and have another ride?” He finishes and Eddie laughs,

“Oh, right. Yeah That- makes sense”

They keep talking about their favorite things on the menu on the way there and soon they are sitting face to face in a booth at Benny’s.

What a pair they make, Steve in a three piece suit, jacket off, vest undone and shirt rolled up to his forearms. And Eddie with sweats and a hoodie. 

Eddie is even better looking in the shitty dinner light and the blush that adorns his cheeks ever since they came in makes Steve wanna kiss them to feel their warmth.

Benny himself comes to take their order, and Eddie gets up to hug him and introduces him to Steve. They already know each other, because Steve does come to the dinner often and Benny lets Eddie know that.

Eddie thinks it's hilarious that they both have been here so much and never saw each other before, but Steve can’t help to think it’s a shame.

“I actually would’ve loved to have met you sooner,” he tells Eddie at one point and watches curiously as Eddie’s blush turns a few shades darker.

As they eat, Steve tells Eddie about Shelley, about his hopes, about misreading the situation, about his shame. How he doesn’t even think he liked Shelley that much, but he just wanted to have something real. Eddie gets mad at him for blaming himself, tells him it wasn’t his fault, that he’s being too hard on himself. And it’s not a bad thing to consider but all Steve can think about is how cute Eddie looks when he’s mad on his behalf.

Eventually, Eddie tells Steve about whoever was calling him. 

“I met him at my last job. I thought he was so cool but turns out he was actually just cold,” Eddie shrugs, “We dated for like 6 months or something, not that long but, I was miserable the whole time and I didn’t even realize it was because of him.” 

Eddie’s hand is tearing up a paper napkin between them and Steve tentatively settles his hand over Eddie’s, who stops destroying the napkin and smiles gratefully at Steve, holding his hand back.

“The worst part is I didn’t even break up with him, he broke up with me,” Eddie chuckles self-deprecatingly, “But he still wanted to keep me around I guess… And I… didn’t want to feel lonely” 

They both stay quiet for a moment after that, and Steve stares at their hands joined over the greasy dinner table and thinks about loneliness, about how he doesn't feel it right now, with Eddie.

“So, what happened?” he asks after a bit.

“I did eventually realize he was the one making me feel like shit so I stopped seeing him but he didn’t appreciate my new sense of self-respect,” Eddie says lightly and Steve instinctively squeezes his hand protectively, which makes Eddie smile again, “I’m doing just fine now though, I told him to fuck off and got a new job. And it’s actually pretty good, ya know?”

Steve can’t help but smile back at Eddie’s cute expression, “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah, my own hours? Good money? Plus I’ve always liked driving around, it calms me. And I get to meet really interesting people…” he says, winking at Steve and making him chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad then. Proud of you for getting out of there,”

“Me too,” Eddie says and looks up as Benny walks over to them.

“Sorry to interrupt boys, but we are about to close for the night,” He says, stifling a yawn.

Steve looks surprised at his watch, it’s almost 2 A.M. He can’t believe he’s been sitting here with Eddie for hours when it only felt like a few minutes.

He offers to cover the bill but Benny fights him over it and says it’s his treat. And Eddie offers to take him home no charge. So they get in Eddie’s car again only this time Steve sits next to him instead of in the back and they talk about music on their way to his place while Steve changes the radio stations. Laughing, singing and joking around, it’s such a good time. It feels like they’ve been doing this forever, like they could do this…forever. But eventually they arrive at Steve’s building and suddenly Steve doesn’t want the night to end. 

He’s about to tell Eddie as much, maybe invite him inside, when his phone rings again, the ‘you deserve better’ staring at them. But Eddie immediately grabs his phone and hangs up, blocking the number after. 

“There, he can’t call me again,” he says with a sigh.

“Can I see your phone for a second?” Steve ventures, making a last second decision.

Eddie looks surprised but curious as he hands it over and Steve punches his phone in.

“If you ever feel like unblocking him, or calling him back… Why don’t you try calling me instead?” he says in a rush and then walks out of the car, not lingering to see Eddie’s reaction.

There’s always the positivity that he got things wrong again, got too invested too soon again and he doesn’t want to know tonight. He’ll deal with it later, if Eddie doesn't call.

🚗📱🍔💙

It takes only two days for Steve’s phone to ring, an unknown number flashing on his screen. He picks it up feeling a little out of breath for no reason at all.

“Hello?” 

“Steve?”

“Eddie, I”

“Wait- before you say anything I just want you to know that I didn’t call because I wanted to call him, or I was thinking about him. I called because I can’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to talk to you. Okay?”

“Eddie- yes! It’s more than okay, I- I was hoping you’d call”

fin 💙

☕🥐💕 coffee? oovoo javer?

[atrwriting]

games and other fun — rafe cameron x reader

HAPPY NYE FUCKERS HERES A TOXIC MAN THAT SHOULD DEFINITELY BE LEFT IN 2024 BUT NOT ON THIS BLOG HAHA

this is the hottest rafe scene and if you disagree i think ur silly

as always, warnings: smut, daddy kink, choking, slapping, dom!rafe, alcohol consumption, p in v sex, unprotected sex (please for the love of god wrap it), talk of drugs

anyways… here’s games and other fun:

…

the summer you got hot was coincidentally the same summer you moved to the outerbanks.

the climate was hotter than back hot, but… so were the men.

you and your friends had moved for the new adventure, and thankfully you had found a job in your field pretty quickly. while your friends looked for jobs in their field, they acquired jobs at some of the restaurants, bars, and catering gigs in town.

that was how your best friend met topper.

when she first told you the story, the blush on her cheeks had never been brighter. him and his buddies had been out that night — at the bar she worked at. almost immediately, topper started flirting with her. she claims she played it cool, but from her giggling you can tell that she was excited to talk to him as he was to talk to her. you were so, so happy for her.

…until she mentioned how he had a friend.

“absolutely not,” you stated, shaking your head,

“why not?!” she demanded. “the friend said you were cute!”

you raised an eyebrow at her. “you showed him my picture?”

she nodded. “he was cute! i swear!”

you sighed. “what’s his name?”

“kelce.” a mischievous smile began to play at her lips. “him and topper want to meet us at a party their other friend is throwing this weekend.”

“did you meet that friend?” you asked. “do you think he’d be cool with us coming?”

she dismissed you with a playful wave of her hand. “rafe’s a kook. they wouldn’t be kooks if they didn’t show off their wealth to the whole island.”

you laughed. “okay, fine — i’ll go, but who the fuck names their kid rafe?”

only the richest man on the entire fucking island did, apparently.

you were excited to meet kelce, but you couldn’t help but be curious as to who exactly rafe cameron was. your friend didn’t meet him, neither of you looked him up, but then again — there was a double date to prepare for.

your best friend had gotten ready together after the work day. bikins under levi cutoff shorts, crop tops, and sandals were sported, but the main event was how somehow you both mastered the beachy blowout and natural makeup look in this humidity. once you were done, you both caught an uber and headed straight for the cameron residence.

it was fucking massive.

there was no other word.

and, honestly… it was like something out of project x.

strobe lights, music blasting, and loud laughter and screams. your best friend was more of the partier, so she didn’t look too phased — but you? you were fucking bright-eyed. you hadn’t experienced anything like this before, and even if the date didn’t work out… at least there would be other things to occupy you.

once the uber had parked in front, you spotted a man waiting on the front stoop with his phone in his hands. your friend typed a quick text, hit sent, and through the window you watch the man on the front stoop smile.

place your bets now, you thought. that’s definitely topper.

and that he was.

when you both had met him on the front stoop, he engulfed your friend in a cute hug. afterwards, he extended a smile and his hand to you, and you shook his hand appreciatively.

a man that knew boundaries and manners… fuck yes, bestie.

he led you both inside and you had to stop your jaw from dropping. the party looked crazy from the outside, but nothing could compare to the absolute mayhem that was occurring inside. pong, lines being cut on a few tables, people jumping into the pool from the roof… you name it.

“this is awesome,” you spoke absentmindedly to no one in particular.

“i know,” topped laughed. “kelce’s around here somewhere... drinks?”

he led you both to the kitchen. if you were being honest, you knew that topper and your friend would hit it off pretty quickly and you didn’t want to cock-block them. you were hoping that kelce would find his way to you so you both could have your own fun, and leave your friends to their own devices.

…that was until topper started trying to call kelce over. topper, a bit drunk at this point, didn’t really get the memo from his friend that was turned around, basically back into the corner… that kelce did not want to be disturbed. in fact, when kelce finally got the message, he ripped away from whatever had caught his attention, and turned towards topper’s voice angrily. when he turned away… there was a petite woman pushed into the corner. she seemed very pissed off that kelce had broken their kiss.

who could blame her? he was hot.

no one could blame you for being a little upset, but you wouldn’t tell anyone that.

topper was at a loss for words. you almost felt bad.

letting the liquor provide comic relief, you spoke, “she’s hot. can’t blame him.”

topper laughed and then stuttered, trying to find the words to fight the embarrassment of the situation. even drunk, his manners were impeccable. his and your friend’s eyes revealed a mixture of guilty and sympathy, and you couldn’t deal with how uncomfortable it made you feel. your first instinct was to pretend it didn’t bother you… and if other people ignored your pain, you could too. it gnawed at you in the back of your throat — a rock lodged in your esophagus. your voice was tight, your cheeks were hot, and frustrated and embarrassed tears were pickling at your eyes.

“guys, don’t worry about it,” you laughed, trying to brush it off. “top, where’s the bathroom?”

maybe you couldn’t save yourself from embarrassment, but you could save them from secondhand embarrassment. once he directed you, you gave them both a smile and set off.

if you were being honest… it did hurt that had happened. it was fucking embarrassing. nothing horrible, but combined with having drank in a while, and you were already tipsy? you were feeling emotional, and that wasn’t a good luck. you needed a few minutes in the bathroom to cool off.

you texted your friend that you were going to find the pool after and that she shouldn’t wait up for you — you wanted her to have fun with topper.

you were barely in the bathroom for a few minutes when you heard banging on the door.

“hurry up!” a gruff voice from the other side of the door called.

you shut the water off and brushed away the loose tear. your eyes were red, and your face was a bit puffy, but you figured you’d be fine. you’d probably never see the guy on the other side of the door anyway.

as you opened the door, he went to bang on it again. with his weight forward, he accidentally stumbled into the bathroom while you were still in it.

“sorry, dude, uh —“ he rasped, standing before you and staring awkwardly down at you.

“you’re good…” you spoke, before trying to brush past him.

he caught your upper arm.

“woah, dude,” you laughed hesitantly, trying to step away from him. “i’m leaving, don’t worry.”

“sorry —“ he let go of your arm, still peering down at you. “you’re crying.”

“what? no,” you faked a laugh. “heat got to me s’all. needed some air.”

he eyed you. “never seen you before. not from around here?”

“no,” you shook your head. “my friend and i were invited.”

“by who?” he asked, raising a brow.

you took a step back, not particularly enjoying the third degree in a small space. “this guy she likes… topper.”

his eyes widened, almost in realization. “yeah, yeah… he told me about that. said there was another girl… for kelce.”

you laughed, but with a slight scoff in your voice. “he’s a bit… preoccupied at the moment. with someone else. i was going to go play pong after i… saw.”

“knew he had a pretty girl coming, and did that? guy’s a dick.”

you laughed, and shook your head — brushing off his comment. “‘m sure he’s fine. i don’t know who his friends are — not really in the mood to talk shit about someone i don’t know.”

“sweetheart, he’s one of my best friends — guy’s a dick.”

a smile played at your lips as you raised an eyebrow at the man. “and who are you?”

“the owner of this house,” he replied. “i’m rafe.”

you smiled, and introduced yourself as well. “i’ll, um — leave you to it, then. see you around.”

you turned to leave, when you heard him say your name. while peering down at you, he spoke, “nah… let’s mess with him.”

you shouldn’t have been excited… but you couldn’t deny that you were.

rafe led you back into the kitchen and you smiled at your friend. topper turned to look at you, and his eyes immediately perked up when he saw rafe walking directly behind you.

you greeted them both, but barely before rafe had picked you up by the hips and placed you on the counter next to your friend. you bit back a squeal at the motion, but rafe had leaned against your side as he cracked a beer.

topper turned to you. “i don’t know how you found him, or how you got him out of the woodwork… but the man barely comes to his own parties. nice job.”

you laughed, and let topper and your friend continue their fun.

“so…” you began, turning to rafe. “if you don’t come to your own parties, how do you have fun at things like this?”

a smirk played at the corner of his lips. “they’ve been kind of boring for me, lately, i don’t know… i’m usually in the corner somewhere, smoking.”

sarcastically, with a grin, you asked, “are you telling me i can’t convince you to be my pong partner?”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you could convince me to do a shot with you.”

mischief danced in your eyes. rafe was quick to notice, and the look in his eyes matched yours.

he immediately went for glasses and liquor.

“and you got him to lay off the snow?” asked topper, mouth wide. he looked back to your best friend, grinning. “you’re both coming to the next one.”

rafe poured four shots and handed them off to topper and your best friend. they smiled and laughed to themselves before linking arms, and taking their shots.

“i like to take mine a different way,” rafe rasped, eyes peering down at your lips. “especially since my boy kelce has been staring us down since i put you on this counter.”

a smirk was beginning to form on your lips. in a sultry voice, you asked, “are you suggesting we give your friend a show, rafe?”

you stared into his piercing eyes before he spoke. his lips were parted, and he almost looked hungry. the heat was getting to the both of you making a shiny sheen of sweat glow because of the strobe lights. his eyes were focused on you, and really on you. it threw you off how rafe could have so many things going on around him, barely knowing you — and you were the apple of his eye. the next words rolled off his tongue like sugar, “that’s exactly what i’m suggesting, sweetheart.”

your teeth sank into your bottom lip as a blush rose across your cheeks. with a boldness you were a stranger to, you lifted your shirt above your head to reveal your string black bikini that barely hid your chest.

you figured rafe was lying about kelce — but that was until you saw him and the girl separate, and were now closer to where you and rafe stood. kelce had thrown a few glances your way every now and then, but now? now he was blatantly ignoring the girl next to him as he stared at your rack and rafe.

you threw back your shot, bending your chest towards rafe. you looked back to him with a smile on your face, and plucked his shot from his hands. holding your beasts together and placing the glass in your cleavage, you threw him a wink. rafe’s gaze darkened — and you knew you were in for it.

rafe rested a hand on your waist before he dipped his head lower. his lips wrapped around the circumference of the glass, and threw his head back with ease. your eyes drifted downwards to his broad shoulders, the thickness of his neck, and the muscles in his arms….

oh… you were in for it, alright.

before you knew it, rafe placed his glass down and connected his lips with yours. a whine of surprise rose and died in your throat after rafe placed both of his large hands on the warm skin of your waist. you held rafe’s strong jaw in both of your hands as you kissed him back, letting your tongue dance at his bottom lip.

“you’ve been too sweet to me tonight,” you whispered against his lips. “when are you going to let me be sweet to you?”

“fuck…” he rasped, stealing another kiss. “as soon as i know kelce knows what he missed out on.”

you laughed. “he’s been staring, rafe, come on…”

rafe had wrapped his arms under your ass and hoisted you against his chest. your hair cascaded down around you both, shielding the rest of the party goers for how your lips couldn’t leave his.

“if my dick wasn’t so hard right now — i’d shove it in his face more,” rafe spat. “teach that prick a lesson about how he should treat a beautiful woman.”

you giggled against his lips. “another time — please, rafe. i need you.”

a deep growl went off in his chest, and he let you swallow it whole. rafe kissed you once more before he swung you over his shoulder, one hand firmly planted on your ass to keep you steady, and began walking towards the upstairs.

laughing, you raised your heard to wave goodbye to topper and your best friend — who were laughing and happy for you as they waved back.

with each step towards an empty room, you giggled at rafe as he was cursing at people who got in his way. he kicked a couple of people out of the room before he let you fall onto your back on the bed. your giggles died within you as he began to crawl over you.

“what if i wanted to ride you, baby?” you whispered, running a thumb along his cheek as you bit your lip.

he kissed the inside of your hand as his eyes never left yours. “no, sweetheart — never had such a sexy woman below me. i’m taking my fuckin’ time.”

“taking your time?” you asked. “you’re the host of the party.”

“fuck ‘em,” he spat, capturing your lips once more.

rafe’s movements were much more dominant than in the kitchen. the privacy of the four walls and closed door allowed him to cage your body in and wedge the front of his hips against yours. you hooked your ankles behind his lower back, pulling him into you with a grinding motion. little whimpers left your lips as the friction from your jeans hit your clit in the perfect motion, making you shiver in rafe’s arms.

“want those pants off, daddy,” you rasped. “don’t make me wait.”

“call me that again and i’ll give you anything you want, sweetheart,” he spoke, his hands immediately darting for his belt buckle.

you tore off your and rafe’s pants and rafe made quick work of taking that skimpy bikini off your breasts.

“i almost told you no when you asked to go upstairs,” he spoke, his hands slowly sliding up your stomach. “i wanted to make kelce so fucking jealous…” the palms of rafe’s hands rested on the swell of your breasts, thumbs drawing circles on your nipples. “wanted him to realize that the chick next to him had nothin’ on you… that i was the one to have you… wanted to see the realization in his eyes….” his thumbs and pointer fingers began rolling your sensitive buds in between each other, drawing sharp breaths from between your lips. “but i think you were right, sweetheart. don’t want anyone to see what’s mine.”

“yours?” you let the pads of your fingertips slide down the length of his chest and stomach. you kept your eyes locked on his, provoking him. “no man’s ever been able to make me cum before. what makes you think you’re different?”

he raised an eyebrow, darkness covering his irises. he was silent for a moment, studying you. you kept your baiting look on your face, but inside you grew worried.

rafe’s hand held your jaw in his, thumb prodding at your plump bottom lip. “gonna be a brat for me, that it?”

you shouldn’t have — but you did anyway. “and what’re you gonna do about it?”

an evil smile crept up on rafe’s perfect face. he let go of your chin and got off of you. you were curious as to what his goal was, but that was until he got himself between your legs. you laid back against the bed, and when you looked up — you realized there was a mirror on the ceiling.

you gasped at the sight. your hair was as crazy as your skin was flush. your eyes were as wild as rafe’s, and he stared back at you with darkness and lust all wrapped into one.

“you see that, sweetheart?” he asked, staring back at you. “sight that almost made me take you right there in the kitchen. you gonna be good for daddy, and let me show you how i’m better than all of those little boys?”

your teeth sank into your bottom lip as your cheeks blushed. “yes, daddy, please.”

“so polite,” he rasps, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. a whine brews in your throat at the affection. “open your legs. let me see that pretty pussy.”

on command, you parted your legs for him. rafe slid one large hand down from your knee to the beginning of your tanned thigh. you watch as his hand cups your mound, and you shiver at the feeling.

“oh… just so soft for me…”

his voice was like caramel as it rolled of his tongue. smooth and sweet. he looked at your pussy like he fucking adored it, there was no other way to put it. when his head finally dipped and his tongue nudged itself at your clit, you leaned your head back against the pillows.

“you like to hide, huh?” he spoke, eyes wide at you as his tongue dripped in between your folds. “not tonight, darlin’. you’re watching me.”

you lifted your head up and watched as his tongue slid into your entrance, and rafe began to nudge your clit with his nose. you gasped at the feeling — completely unaware that was even a thing someone could do, let alone be good at.

“fuck…” you quietly gasped, folding your lips over each other.

rafe replaced his tongue with two fingers — sliding them in and out and curling at the top. a low hum began to build as you fought to keep your eyes on him. the hum was deep and warm, filling your rib cage. you didn’t want to scream, afraid of being too loud or too much for rafe… but keeping your eyes open was enough of a fight. when his perfect, plump lips made contact with your clit… you couldn’t help it. you let out a loud sigh as your vision began to glaze over.

“i wanna do everything i can to this pussy,” rafe bit, sucking at your clit. “smack it, lick it, fuck it, anything i want… just so warm and sweet.”

“…fuck…” while only one word, your voice had never broken so much. rafe’s words were so sensual and mind numbing it was hard not to lose yourself in the moment, free to completely enjoy the sight and feeling of one of the hottest men you had ever seen put you on a pedestal and fucking worship you. his tongue, velvet, was working its way around your clit like it wanted your thighs to clench and wrap around his head. “i’m so close, rafe…”

“that’s it, baby, yeah.” the slurping sounds from below you were pornographic. your hips were jutting up and down to meet his lips and fingers as he plunged inside of you. your hands had found the sides of his head, sad there wasn’t any hair to hold back. “you wanted to be a brat before, now what? blame all of those little boys? now look at you — too fucked out to care. dirty fuckin’ girl.”

he was right. your boldness had left you with your sanity. the low hum had now spread throughout your body until it was everywhere. a soft, quiet vibration could be felt in every one of your limbs until you sure you were shaking. a cocky bastard like rafe — you should’ve wanted to deny him your orgasm, the metaphorical trophy. however, every fiber in your being was telling you he deserved it. his tongue, his lips, his nose, his fingers, his eyes — they wanted you to finish all over his face, and they deserved it. every last drop. every bit of it. every. fucking. bit.

“you scared, baby? don’t get shy on me now.” he had now raised his face where now only his hand was on your pussy. with a concerned, focused look on his face, he dipped two fingers into your entrance as his rough palm was working your clit. “you want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

you shut your eyes for a little longer than you should’ve, but opened them back up for tears to collect in the corners of your eyes. the approach of an orgasm was like a current in water, sucking you under. there was no fight and there was no giving in. it was heavy, fast, and hard — drowning where you head had no chance of staying above water. your body was being pulled every which way as your brain fought to remain present, in control. through your glazed over eyes, you could see rafe smirk.

“oh — i don’t think my girl’s listening to me, is she?” his taunting voice was sending you up a wall. the rat bastard — making you feel so good and then demanding that you respond as if your mind wasn’t mush. he moved himself so he was now hovering over your body, balanced on one arm. “i know you can hear me. come on, baby — you wanna cry? do it. fuckin’ cry for me, darlin’.”

you weren’t sure why you needed permission — but something in your insecurity snapped that allowed you to let out one singular strangled moan in your sand paper throat. it was whiny, and soft, and most of all — fucking pathetic. you could see in rafe’s eyes he loved it.

“been so good for me, letting me play with you,” he whispered against your lips as he continued with his hand. “seeing this little body give in — wanna see how far i can go. can’t wait to split you on my cock.”

“let me cum on your cock, rafe, please…” you spoke through your tears. “need it so badly. please let me…”

“can’t cum without a cock inside of you?” he asked, immediately sitting up and undoing his pants. “finally allowed yourself to be a whore and ask for what you want… lettin’ me use that pussy…”

you were nodding furiously, tugging at him to come lay on top of you once more. he batted your hands away, confusing you.

“nah, lay back,” he spoke. “…because i know you want me to use that pussy, don’t you?”

“yes, yes,” you cried, voice breaking. “just want you to use me — fuck, please, rafe…”

there was that smirk again — before he dove in.

rafe had pushed your legs against your chest and held you there as his cock slid easily inside you. since you were denied a very close orgasm — your pussy had never been wetter. it was like your slick was causing him to slide further and further inside so he could be buried in there. with every thrust, your pussy tightened around him — and rafe let you know.

you stared up at the mirror on the ceiling as you watched rafe’s muscles flex. his shoulders and back — holding you down, making you take every thrust. watching his glutes tighten and release with every thrust sent shivers up and down your spine. however, nothing, not one single thing, could compare to the way rafe’s arms flexed around your head and body — holding you in place.

“fucking love your cock, daddy,” you whimpered in his ear. “so, so deep. feels so good it hurts.”

he groaned against your ear, straining to fight against the pleasure. his thrusts began to pick up strength and speed, refusing to give in before you do.

“can tell it hurts, baby — pussy sucking me in like she’s never cum before,” he gasped, his own voice threatening to break. “just needed someone that knew how to work you, huh? give you what you needed? fuck you like the slut you are?”

you dug your face into the crook of his neck, feeling lost in his words and embrace. “slut for your cock, daddy — fuck, just like that. just like that — right there!”

one of his hands reached up to grab a fistful of your hair, and yanked you back. with parted lips and gritted teeth, rafe forced himself against your throat and began to suck on the soft skin. the strain of the position took away what last bit of control you had. you were completely at rafe’s mercy — and you didn’t mind. the head of his cock was pounding against that spot inside of you. your brain and the lower half of your body were working in tandem — acting like they had never had an orgasm before, but that wasn’t the case. no — they had just never had an orgasm like this before. the kind where you are completely out of control, unable to get it back, and under the hands of a man who took such good care of you. maybe you should’ve been scared because you barely knew him, but you weren’t. he wanted your orgasm as much as you did — and you let your naivety get the best of you.

“never wanted to breed a pussy so fuckin’ badly,” he spat against the skin of your throat. “she wants my cum so badly, doesn’t she? sucking me in — what else?”

incoherent. that’s all you were. rafe’s hips smacking against yours, cock hitting just right — there was nothing that allowed you to stay present and sensible in that situation. you were all his, under his control.

“be mean,” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut. “be mean to me — and i’ll cum. fucking christ — please.”

“pussy like this, dirty as you are —“ he spoke, trying to fight his own orgasm. “no one should touch you but me. i own this pussy. me. no one can fuck you like me, that right?”

it was like music to your ears. your pussy was being split open and fucked raw — so dirty, so naughty, so wrong. yet, you were both grasping onto each other like there’s was nothing else in the world. rafe was working his cock into your pussy like your orgasm was his, and his alone. he —

he got tired of waiting for a response. he lightly smacked your cheek, and wrapped a hand around your throat.

you couldn’t be surprised — because your pussy only got wetter.

“you’re gonna fucking cum for me,” he spat against your eyes. “that’s mine. all mine.”

you caught a glance of what you looked like in the mirror above — a mess. a fucking mess. your face was covered in sweat, spit, and tears. your hair was everywhere, just like there was a flush all over your body. you saw the way rafe’s veins in his neck and forehead tightened and protruded as he spat dirty words against the side of your face.

“give it to me,” he spat through gritted teeth.

your eyes couldn’t leave the mirror. it shoved you farther and farther into your trance that you couldn’t look away. couldn’t move. couldn’t think about anything else.

“it’s yours, it’s yours…” you cried, throwing your head back.

your hands immediately came up to dig your nails into his back. your back, arched, pushed your tits into rafe’s face. his face, in awe, couldn’t help but suck a nipple into his mouth as he watched your body fucking shake. there was no more low vibration — your body, every limb, had fully succumbed to shaking and crying.

“pussy so tight,” he gasped. “fuck, fuck, fuck…”

through the mirror, you watch both of your orgasms hit you at the exact same time. with one snap of rafe’s hips, the muscles of his ass tightened where his pelvis locked with yours. his back and shoulder muscles went taut, rippling with the bout of adrenaline running through his veins. with rafe’s body holding yours down, he stopped your body from spasming. your skin was prickly to the touch as your blood was pumping, pumping, pumping. the walls of your pussy squeezed around his cock as strangled gasps pushed past your lips, and were swallowed by rafe.

against your lips, he whispered, “never letting you go now, princess.”

you giggled softly, shivering. “is that so?”

“yeah,” he mumbled, kissing you. “you’re fucked.”

- - -

happy nye here’s some smut HAHA love yall

-L xoxox

[philip-the-nickel]

Marketing did Elemental DIRTY

Just saw the movie, it was well worth the watch. The trailer made the movie look like some half assed race metaphor Zootopia ripoff with a canned, rehashed love story you've seen a million times.

Let me be clear, Elemental was none of the things the trailer made you believe it was.

First things first, The Romance:

There's a reason aro/ace people are flocking to this movie. The main couple falls in love without having to rely on any passionate kisses or hand holding; they fall for each other based on who they are, their personalities, their interests, their appreciation of the other's uniqueness. The central hand holding comes at a point in the movie well after the two are established as a couple, and have gone on many dates together. This movie makes their characters fall in love over mutual appreciation, not physical chemistry, and its such a genuine, sweet, wholesome romance to see play out

On top of that, this movie goes into a lot of aspects of immigrant life and the expectations that come with being a first born in a new country. The romance does not shy away from this or sweep it under the rug. The romance blossoms as the two learn more about each other, and come to understand and respect those differences.

Second, the movie isn't about romance, its about being an immigrant.

I came into this movie expecting zootopia 2: now with elements, and what I got was a heart-wrenching look into the life of a first generation child in a new land, born to immigrant parents. The movie absolutely does NOT sugar coat things, showing not only an ellis island moment of having your name changed, but also a number of topics ranging from having to navigate in a city made for people who are nothing like you, being denied housing, micro-aggressions, and straight up being denied entry to public places based on who you are.

The true heart of this movie is about the child of immigrants realizing the life she wants for herself, struggling with disappointing people who gave up everything they had so they could give you a better life, repaying that sacrifice and what a burden it feels like, and somehow facing the truth of who and what is staring back at you from the mirror.

Third, and lastly, the movie is absolutely beautiful

The trailers did this movie dirty. You never saw the refracting lights from firelight streaming through water, you didn't see the glassblowing, or how the fire dies down to barely a wisp when Ember is sad to burning like a wildfire when she's angry. You didn't see the scene underwater with the tree and |Spoilers|, you didn't see the world building or the character design that went into the background characters. This movie is absolutely beautiful, and uses light as both a visual treat and a metaphor for the movie's themes. Its absolutely gorgeous.

So, if you're wondering whether to skip this movie or watch it, I'm telling you now: ignore the trailers and go see this in theaters.

[itsgwencayyye]

Been thinking a lot about the queer rep of the qsmp and like how much i appreciate characters saying full stuff about being only into women, or liking men, or being gay in general. Like I remember distinctly during the first movie night is when it first hit me. The milk carton animatic was playing and it ends with qcellbit and qroier kissing at the wedding. And like i remember physically looking away and preparing to see one or both of them be really uncomfortable or joke about it. But they were really happy about it instead and I felt like just weird relief from it. Cause like yeah mc smp's tend to be very homoromantic, but everyones tends to be very almost prudish about wanting those relationships to be shown or go anywhere or be drawn kissing and stuff like that( At least in previous smp fandoms I've been in). Then, although it was before that moment, cellbit saying "I want to be gay and happy" although funny, it's just so nice to hear the word and have it not be a joke or not danced around cause someone's uncomfortable with it. Like the character likes men and wants to be gay and happy, simple as that. Then you have q!bagi saying that she's only interested in women, and liking melissa, but not roier, even though they're the same person. Then there's q!fit who told Ramon "I'd prefer another dad for you" and just how much knowing his backstory that being canonically a gay man adds to his characterization(i could write like a 5 page paper on that alone). And on top of it all it's the language and seriousness of all the relationships as well. Foolish and Vegetta were calling each other boyfriends, and 'my love', people go on dates and talk about what they want out of their relationship and how they're feeling about it, and like it's even normal for a lot of the couples to normalize implying or just having straight up sex (thanks for the trauma slimeriana and maxpierre/lh). Like I know I'm rambling, but, it genuinely means so much to like have the queer romance be explicitly queer and also more than just a joke. Like in ways I didn't realize at first, but it's kinda fucking awesome.

[leah-lover]

Toddlers.

Alessia russo x Leah Williamson x reader

One might expect after coming back from a run to the bakery at 7 am to come back home and find silence still filling up the house or perhaps jazz music and the smell of coffee. What you didn't expect was bickering.

You opened the door quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping bodies in your bedroom only to hear them full on arguing up the stairs. You put down the baked goods in the kitchen and angrily stomped your way to the room where the loud noises were coming from. You found Alessia and leah both hovering over a disassembled crib arguing about who should do it and who should go to bed. 

“ Lee, you have a concussion,you should rest.” said Alessia, still in her oversized sleeping t-shirt. 

“ and you just played a game last night you are the one who should be resting. Besides, I know my body and what I can handle.” replied leah. 

“ Leah seriously stop with this nonsense and go to bed.” Alessia tried to command her club captain. 

“ What do we have here?” you jumped in before any one said something they would regret. 

No matter how unusual this encounter might seem it happened quite often in your household. Lessi was sweet and gentle while Leah was stubborn and hard headed. Alessia would easily give up control and  surrender either one of you’s  touch or words while Leah needed more convincing in order to let go. 

“ I couldn't get any sleep. I needed to move so I came here to assemble this crib. And  little miss over here wouldn't let me.” explained leah. 

“ you are concussed leah you need to rest;  this crib can wait.”  added alessia. 

“ Alessia,  give it up. I am fine. I don't need babysitting. If I do, I will make sure to call you.” said leah in an undermining tone. 

“ I am 7 months pregnant. I got up and went out to get us something to celebrate qualifying for the champion's league and I am greeted with this at 8 am. I expected cuddles in bed with my favorite people instead I got a problem.” you say as you sigh and get out of the room. 

“ See if you weren't a child lee we wouldn't have upset her.” said aleesia. 

“ and if you just let it go we wouldn't have either.” added leah. 

“ Enough, you two.” you yell from across the room and they go quiet. 

You opt for a shower to relax from the stressful morning you had. Once you got out you found Leah waiting for you. You ignored her and headed straight for the mirror to apply skin care. She came up behind you, put her hands on your swollen belly and kissed your shoulder. 

“ I am sorry.” she mutters. 

“ It's not me you should say that to.” you respond. 

“ She is angry at me.” you turn to face her and cup her cheeks. 

“ Say you're sorry and she will forgive you. You were harsh on her, you know. She was just trying to help you.” 

“ I didn't mean to snap at her.” Leah genuinely feels bad for what happened. 

“ So go console her and show her that you love and appreciate her.” Leah was like a toddler sometimes which was one of your favorite things about her. She gives you a kiss and leaves. After you are done you head to the kitchen, make coffee, and scroll on your phone. You were lost in your phone and suddenly you feel it get  yanked out of your hand. Your attention goes quickly to the new sensations on your neck. They were both kissing you, each one kissing a different side. Your hands gravitate to their hair and a moan escapes your lips. Their hands however were perfectly situated on your belly. Alessia stopped kissing you first which sourced a whine from you. She immediately kneels to the level of your belly. “ she just kicked i felt her.” she exclaimed happily. moments like these were why you kept up with their nonsense. And the sex of course. Leah does the same thing and you admire them as they talk to your belly in an adorable voice. 

“ So I understand that you two made up.” They both stop and look  at one another and smile. 

“ Sorry this happened, I know you wanted a slow morning.” apologized alessia. 

“ It's not that late. We can still go lay down on the couch together.” she added. 

“ Since I created the chaos I will prepare breakfast,” said leah. 

After you demolish your food you lay on Leah's chest and Alessia puts her head on your lap and just sits there admiring each other. You really love these two idiots and are excited to start a family with them.

[museanddream]

One Night - part 1 || Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x Reader

Summary: When you complete a dream transfer to Barcelona, there’s only one problem - you have to learn to coexist with your ex-hookup and her new girlfriend.

Warnings: 🔞 | no actual smut in this chapter but contains references to sex and this is just setup for several parts of pure filth

Word count: 5.4k

It takes you all of about ten seconds on your first day at Barcelona to realise that Ona Batlle and Lucy Bronze are dating.

Strangely, it’s not Lucy who gives it away, but instead the young Spaniard.

You don’t actually know Ona beyond the distant professionalism of two people who have played against each other a handful of times over the years. Lucy, however, is somebody you’re more than acquainted with. Intimately so.

You started sleeping with Lucy a few years ago, during her first spell at City. Lucy was charming, hot and available and you were … well, you were young and horny. It was a mutually convenient agreement until she moved to France and you to Germany, when it became obvious within just a few months that a casual situationship was much harder to nurture when you lived in different countries. That’s when it fell apart, heated words fired from both sides then radio silence as if you’d never even known each other.

You knew you’d have to face up to your past when you signed for Barcelona. Lucy’s been here for a year already, but you don’t say no to a club like Barça, not even when you’ve got history with one of their star defenders.

All you can do when you show up for your first day is hope that you’ve both matured enough to be professional about it.

“I’d heard a rumour you might be coming here.”

Of course you find yourself alone with her in the dressing room pretty much straight away, fresh out of your signing photoshoot. The soft fabric of the blaugrana Barcelona kit feels good against your skin, but you feel anything but comfortable alone with Lucy.

“Back on the same team, huh?” you reply stiffly. “Who’d have thought it?”

“The best team,” Lucy brags.

You’re saved from having to make any more awkward smalltalk with Lucy as the door to the dressing room clatters open.

“Lucy, you left your trainers in the-”

The newcomer, Ona Batlle, stops mid sentence when she notices you, forgetting whatever she was saying so that she can instead greet you with a dazzling smile that knocks the air out of your lungs.

She’s pretty. You’re sure that you must have already known this, you just haven’t had time to properly appreciate it, not when you were playing against her and focused on other things.

“Hi. I’m Ona,” she greets you, letting you introduce yourself in return before she turns her attention back to Lucy. “You left these in the gym. If I’d known I’d be tidying up after you, I’d have stayed in Manchester.”

And that’s when you realise that there’s more to the relationship between Ona and Lucy than just being new teammates. It’s a mixture of things that gives it away, the affectionate tone of Ona’s voice, the familiarity with which she teases Lucy, but mostly the look of absolute adoration in Ona’s eyes as Lucy takes the shoes off her. It’s a look that you recognise, because there was once a time when you probably looked at Lucy with that same expression.

If there was any doubt in your mind, what Ona says next is the final nail in the coffin.

“We should stop for groceries on the way home by the way,” Ona says to Lucy. “We don’t have anything for dinner.”

Home. So it’s serious enough that they’re living together, she’s not just another one of Lucy’s flings.

You were never that serious with Lucy. Aside from occasionally carpooling to training the next day if one of you accidentally fell asleep at the other’s post-hookup, you never reached this level of domesticity.

Lucy mumbles something in agreement, tucking her trainers into the cubby behind her, and soon enough Ona is gone as quickly as she arrived.

Left alone with Lucy again, the atmosphere somehow even more tense than before, the first thing that spills from your lips before you have time to think twice is a joke.

“Bit young for you, isn’t she Luce?”

“I don’t know what you…” Lucy trails off and sighs, probably realising that there’s no point trying to deny anything when you’re going to be sharing a dressing room with her and her new beau and will inevitably learn the truth anyway. “Look, I really like her, okay? It’s real.”

You ignore the heavy implications of Lucy’s words, that what she shared with you all those years ago wasn’t real, for the sake of the harmony of the team you’ve just joined.

“I’m happy for you,” you tell Lucy, not entirely untruthful. You never thought that Lucy would be partnered up when you joined Barcelona, but you definitely didn’t expect any of your old history to be reignited either. It’s been long enough that Lucy is just another teammate, someone you can learn to get along with.

…

You do get along with Lucy, in a kind of amicable yet emotionless way that almost feels like you’ve never played on the same team before, let alone slept together on and off for over a year in your early twenties. It’s purely professional, cordial without getting too close to friendly.

You’re relieved, of course. The last time you encountered Lucy was an international match a couple of years ago, an evening which started with heavy tackles and the two of you earning a yellow card apiece on the pitch and ended with Lucy on her knees between your legs in an empty medical room after the game. It was the last time you saw Lucy, the last time you slept with her, the last time you even spoke to her until you moved to Barcelona.

So you’re glad that you can get along with her, even if you’re still trying to wrap your head around how normal it is to be teammates again after everything.

But somebody you really start to get along with is Ona.

It turns out you have more in common with Ona than just being new signings and finding Lucy Bronze attractive. You bond quickly at training and soon you’re hanging out outside of the training ground, grabbing coffee a couple of times a week and letting Ona show you around the city that has become your new home. Lucy gets invited along once or twice but always manages to find an excuse not to join you - whether Ona knows about your history with Lucy isn’t clear to you and you decide it’s not your place to be the one to tell her.

And that’s how you become good friends with your ex-hookup’s new girlfriend.

You quickly realise exactly what Lucy sees in Ona.

She’s got a personality that matches the Barcelona sunshine, a smile that would charm anybody, and eyes that are so big and perfect you’re not entirely convinced that she wasn’t hand-drawn by a cartoonist.

It’s not a crush, you tell yourself. That would be inappropriate in all sorts of ways. It’s just an appreciation.

One that only grows as the season progresses.

Ona does your hair before a game, putting it into a braid that matches her own, and it quickly becomes a pre-match tradition. You sit on the floor between Ona’s legs while her deft fingers work your scalp and pull strands of hair this way and that and can you really be blamed for the direction your traitorous thoughts threaten to move, especially not when Ona was standing beside you in nothing but a tiny pair of shorts and a sports bra mere moments ago? Now you’re thinking about her abs and her fingers.

She taps your shoulder when she’s done, letting you know that you can stand up, and you make eye contact with Lucy across the dressing room as you get to your feet. Her gaze is intense, not jealous or angry that you’ve become so close to her girlfriend, but there’s something in those familiar eyes that you just can’t place.

Focused on the match ahead, you store that information in the back of your mind for later, but end up forgetting about it altogether.

…

There’s some kind of mix-up in communication that means that Lucy has joined you for one of your usual outings for coffee with Ona. You try to excuse your way out of it, claiming that you don’t want to third-wheel their date, but Ona is too nice and jokes that it’s actually Lucy who is the third wheel, before saying that you can’t back out now.

So that’s how you end up sitting at a table on a terrace outside a quaint little cafe with Lucy. Ona goes inside, having insisted that she’ll buy the coffees, despite your protests that she paid last time and it’s your turn.

“You’ve got a good one there, Luce.”

Lucy grins across at you.

“I know. Always had good taste in women, me.”

It’s … flirty? At least it feels borderline flirtatious, considering your past with Lucy. Then again, Lucy’s always been a little flirty, she just didn’t have a girlfriend the last time she turned her charm on with you all those years ago.

“I just mean, don’t fuck it up with her, that’s all,” you tell Lucy, rolling your eyes.

“You mean like I did with you?”

It’s the first time in the three months since you joined Barcelona that either of you have openly acknowledged what you used to have and you don’t really know how to react. Your policy since joining Barcelona has been to pretend that you and Lucy were never a thing. That’s a lot harder to do when Lucy is reminding you that you were.

“It wasn’t just you who fucked it up,” you reply, avoiding eye contact with Lucy out of fear that looking at her might bring up old attraction. “Anyway, that was different, it wasn’t like what you have with Ona.”

Lucy hums, then says, “Maybe it could’ve been the same. If we hadn’t been so dumb and immature.”

There’s much less room to misinterpret Lucy’s words this time. Here is Lucy, pretty much admitting that she wishes things had gotten more serious with you when she had the chance, while her actual girlfriend, the same person who has been nothing but welcoming and an all round great friend to you since you joined Barcelona, is at the counter inside the coffee shop.

“We were around the same age as Ona when it started,” you point out, hoping that the mention of her girlfriend will snap Lucy back into a reality where she doesn’t feel the need to reminisce over your past.

“Ona…” Lucy glances at Ona through the coffee shop window and her expression softens. “Ona’s got a wise head on her. Plus she’s a hopeless romantic. She’s been all-in since the start. Probably knocked a bit of sense into me too, along the way.”

They’re disgustingly in love with each other and it’s enough to squash any butterflies in your own stomach.

“Like I said, I’m glad you’ve found each other.”

The conversation finishes there as Ona returns with the coffees, setting the tray on the table carefully and passing the drinks around.

“Thanks, Ona. You know, I might steal you away from Lucy if you keep fuelling my caffeine addiction like this.”

You say it as if having a little flirt with Ona somehow makes up for whatever traitorous thoughts you were having about Lucy before Ona returned to the table, but at least the smile that spreads across Ona’s face at your words is enough to smother some of your guilt.

“It’s good to keep Lucy on her toes,” Ona says, raising her eyebrows at you like she’s letting you in on an inside joke. “And she’s always saying how much she likes a competition.”

Lucy stirs her own coffee, then sets her spoon down as she leans back casually in her chair as if completely unbothered by the thought of having to fight you for Ona’s attention.

“Yeah,” she says with a shrug. “And I always win.”

…

You’ve always liked away games. Especially now, in a new league. New teams to play against, new cities to visit. And you quickly get used to the expectations that Barça has for its players on away trips.

The main one is the rooming rules. Couples don’t share, you learn that quickly, and also notice that everybody seems to accept that rule. You’ve been on teams before where that’s been an official rule, but teammates have made arrangements between themselves to trade with each other to share with their partner instead. That’s not the case at Barcelona.

The other thing is that while there are some players who mostly seem to always share with each other, there seems to be a deliberate effort to rotate room pairings for the newer signings as they integrate with their new teammates. You’re with Esmee for the first trip, which is a relief to you both as neither of you speaks a word of Spanish yet, then with Ingrid who is just as friendly, having been a new signing herself only a couple of years ago.

You never share with Lucy. Part of you wonders if she’s put in a deliberate request to whoever organises the hotels that sharing with you is just as off-limits to her as sharing with Ona would be, but you’re grateful for it. Though it’s no longer as weird between you, sharing a room with her seems like a step too far right now.

It takes four months at Barça before you room with Ona for the first time, for two nights on a Champions League away fixture in Sweden. The first night is quiet and focused, you talk through some of the tactics from the earlier training session together before getting an early night.

But the second night, after winning the game, there’s a knock on the door when you’re getting ready for bed.

You probably shouldn’t be surprised when you open the door and find Lucy standing outside, given that she’s your roommate’s girlfriend, but you forget that for a moment until Lucy speaks.

“Hey. Is Ona here? Just wanted to say goodnight.”

You blink yourself out of your surprise, then gesture at the closed door to the en-suite bathroom.

“She’s just in there.”

“Can I wait?” Lucy asks.

You hesitate for just a moment, then step aside to let her in.

“Sure.”

Lucy enters the room and you close the door behind her. When you turn around, she’s taken a seat on the end of your bed.

“Uh, that‘s Ona’s bed,” you tell her, pointing at the other bed.

“Oh. Shit, sorry.”

Lucy moves to the other bed, but still sits on it just as awkwardly as she sat on yours. Though it’s mostly normal between you and Lucy these days, when it’s just the two of you, you sometimes remember the way things used to be.

And then you remember that it’s not like that anymore.

“Remember when we used to sneak into each other’s rooms at City?” Lucy asks, with a low chuckle. Apparently she’s reminiscing over the past too.

You glance towards the bathroom, wondering if Lucy is really trying to remind you of the late night trysts you used to have at away games while her actual girlfriend is on the other side of the door.

“Is that your way of hinting at me to piss off and leave you alone with your girlfriend?” you ask her drily, arching an eyebrow as you plug your phone in to charge on the nightstand.

“Nah, it’s against the rules, innit.”

“It was against the rules at City too,” you remind her.

“Yeah, but that’s what made it exciting.” Lucy’s green eyes are alight with mischief, and your stomach does a little flip as you remember the thrill of trying to hook up with Lucy at any available moment without getting caught by teammates or coaches.

And then you feel guilty. Because this is another conversation with Lucy that borders on flirtatious, another split second where you forget she’s in a relationship and are transported right back to when she used to want you.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the bathroom lock clicks and the door swings open. Something shifts in the air between you and Lucy as Ona steps out, hair falling in pretty waves over her shoulders. Her brown eyes light up with pure joy and adoration when she spots Lucy sitting on her bed.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Ona teases Lucy.

“I’m not staying,” replies Lucy. “Just wanted to drop by and say goodnight.”

An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach and you’re not sure if it’s because they’re so horribly in love with each other that it’s making you nauseous, or if it’s a lingering guilt that Ona has no idea you and Lucy were just talking about your heated past. Either way, you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be here for, making a mumbled excuse about giving them a moment and take yourself into the bathroom.

It’s only when the door is locked behind you that you realise you’re now trapped in the bathroom, while they’re saying goodnight to each other in god knows what sort of way.

You press your ear to the door, then jerk away as if the wood is scalding hot when you realise what you’re doing. If they’re talking, it’s not your place to eavesdrop. And if they’re doing anything else…

Your cheeks burn hot at the idea. Surely they wouldn’t? Not while you’re in the bathroom. But they had been so enamoured by each other that you’re not even sure if they noticed you slip away.

You think back to your situationship with Lucy all those years ago. She always had an incredible knack for getting you naked in record time and somehow, you really doubt that she’s lost any of that charm since then.

What if they get carried away with their goodnight wishes and you’re stuck in here all night?

You don’t know how long you’re left wallowing in your own anguish in the bathroom, it could be anywhere from three minutes to three days, but eventually there’s a knock on the door, which is followed by Ona calling your name. You flick the lock then open the door, relieved to find Ona still fully dressed in her pyjamas and now alone in the room again.

“You okay?” she asks. “You were quiet in there. Not that I was listening! Just that you were in there a while and … and I didn’t hear the toilet flush or anything.”

Ona is exceptionally cute when she’s flustered.

“I just didn’t want to get in you and Lucy’s way.”

For just a second, Ona looks like she wants to say something, but she holds it back and the moment passes. Soon you’re each lying in your own bed, the lights off as you settle down for the night.

Sleep feels a whole universe away. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think you can still smell Lucy‘s perfume lingering in the room. The air somehow feels even thicker than it did when Lucy was here. You can hear every movement from the other side of the room, every shift of the bedsheets, every breath that Ona takes, like it’s being amplified through a speaker.

“I know about you and Lucy.” Ona’s low voice eventually penetrates the darkness. “What you used to have. Lucy told me a while ago.”

That’s - well, it’s not what you’re expecting her to suddenly admit. You’re grateful that the lights are off, saving you from having to twist your expression into something neutral.

“It didn’t mean anything. It was just a bit of fun. It was never anything serious.”

You hear Ona’s chuckle rise up from the other bed.

“I know. She told me everything. I’m not jealous. That was way before I knew either of you. Anyway, it makes sense.”

“It does?” you ask.

“Yeah. I like you both. Makes sense you’d like each other too.” There’s a pause, then she adds, “Also you’re both hot.”

Not for the first time, you wonder if everything that’s happened since you joined Barcelona has been some kind of bizarre dream, because there’s no version of normal that includes your ex-hookup’s new girlfriend implying she thinks you’re attractive in the middle of the night on an away trip.

You don’t really know how you’re supposed to reply.

“Uh, thanks.”

Ona continues, “I’m telling you I know just because I’ve noticed you’re a bit weird around Lucy sometimes, so I just want you to know it’s fine with me if you two want to hang out.”

You wonder if Ona would still be fine with it if she knew that you and Lucy have almost flirted with each other twice now. Your cheeks heat up at the thought and you’re glad for the darkness that hides your flush from Ona.

“Maybe we could all hang out together sometime?” Ona suggests, oblivious to your turmoil.

“Oh, I don’t know if…”

“We could have a movie night,” Ona suggests, ignoring your attempts at declining the offer. “At our place. It’d be fun!”

It’s such a typically Ona suggestion. Because Ona is sweet and kind and of course she wants to do everything she can to make sure that her friend gets along with her girlfriend without any awkwardness. There’s not a bone in Ona’s body that would even consider the possibility of being jealous of the fact that you and Lucy used to sleep with each other.

And so in that moment, staring up at the ceiling in a hotel room in Sweden, you vow to never let yourself have a private conversation with Lucy again that’s about anything other than football, to never let Lucy flirt with you or the idea of flirting with Lucy back cross your mind, and to definitely never reminisce about Lucy when your hand is between your legs.

…

You don’t manage to talk your way out of going to Ona’s planned movie night, though if you’re completely honest, you don’t try too hard.

When you arrive at their apartment, it’s Lucy who opens the door and you have a brief moment of panic that she doesn’t actually want you here. But you’re quickly reassured by the way she steps aside to let you in and greets you with a mumbled “Alright?”

“Nice place you’ve got here,” you comment to fill the silence, as Lucy leads you through the apartment to the living room.

“Thanks.”

You sit down in the single armchair, leaving the couch for Lucy and Ona to share. There’s no sign of Ona yet and Lucy doesn’t sit down, instead hovering awkwardly by the door, glancing over her shoulder every two seconds as if looking to see if Ona is joining you.

“I know this was Ona’s idea but if it’s weird I can just go,” you pipe up, wondering if it’s really that awful for Lucy to be alone with you that she needs her girlfriend as a buffer.

“No,” Lucy says decisively. “It was both our ideas. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you too.”

Finally, to the relief of both of you, you hear bare feet pattering down the hallway from one of the other rooms and Ona appears in the doorway. She smiles warmly at Lucy, brushing her fingers against Lucy’s hand as she passes in a gesture that feels far too intimate for you to witness, then grins at you.

“Hi! You came!”

Ona sounds genuinely surprised, like she half-expected you to not turn up, and maybe you haven’t been as good as you thought you were at pretending your relationship with Lucy is one between two normal teammates if Ona was worried that you might bail on a movie night just because Lucy would be there too.

“Of course,” you say, as you try to relax back in your armchair as Lucy and Ona sit down at opposite ends of the sofa. “So, have you already picked out a movie?”

“A movie?” Lucy asks. Confusion briefly flashes across her face, but then it settles into realisation as she turns to Ona and repeats, “A movie.”

A tiny smirk graces Ona’s lips as she shrugs and says, “What? You told me to get her here. You didn’t say how.”

Lucy seems equal parts annoyed and amused - about what you’re not exactly sure - as she says, “I thought you’d do some of the explaining instead of leaving it all to me.”

It’s your turn to be confused.

“So we’re not watching a movie then?” you ask slowly, your eyes flitting between the two of them as you wait for an answer.

Silence hangs between the three of you, Lucy and Ona apparently both waiting for the other to say something, before Lucy rolls her eyes and takes control.

“Listen, here’s the deal,” she starts to explain, leaning forwards slightly in her seat. “I told Ona about our past as soon as you signed for Barça and she found it pretty amusing. Soon she was asking more questions about … well, about you and us, I’m sure you get the picture.”

Still trying to figure out what this has got to do with a movie night, you say, “I don’t think I do.”

Lucy lets out a groan.

“Jesus, am I gonna have to spell it out? She wanted to know what it was like to ‘be with you’ -” Lucy throws up some exaggerated air quotes with her hands, rolling her eyes again along with her words. “So I told her. Well, actually I told her that if she wanted to know what it was like then she should just sleep with you herself. Was joking, of course, but it turns out Ona’s really into that idea, actually.”

Your eyes flicker across to Ona, whose cheeks are tinged a pretty shade of pink and eyes are wide with a mixture of worry and expectation as she waits for your response.

Turning back to Lucy, you ask, “So you’ve invited me over to fuck your girlfriend?”

Lucy nods.

“Well, both of us, if you’re up for it. We figured you and me already had that chemistry and I know you fancy Ona, judging by how often I see you checking her out in the dressing room.”

Your mouth falls open, embarrassed that your staring has been noticed, ready to protest, but they’re both looking at you with more amusement than annoyance.

“Anyway, that’s us,” Lucy finishes. “Ball’s in your court.”

Two pairs of eyes watch you, waiting for your reaction. Lucy almost seems indifferent, settling back in her seat casually as if trying to play it cool, which almost has you wondering if you’ve imagined her just propositioning you for a threesome, if not for the way that one of her fingers taps nervously against her thigh. Ona, on the other hand, looks at you with eyes that are wide and vulnerable, as if the prospect of you turning them down might shatter her heart.

The pieces start to fit together - the tour of cute Barcelona coffee shops from Ona, the occasional flirtatious comments from Lucy. To know that they both want you is flattering. To know that they’ve been talking about this, planning how to get you into their home and their bed, is something that your mind struggles to comprehend.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Ona eventually says. “If you need time to think about it?”

“No, let’s do it.”

Your words are decisive. If you give yourself too long to think about it, you’ll talk yourself out of it and you can’t deny that this is something you want. Maybe you hadn’t imagined that it would end up happening like this, with both of them, but you’ve definitely thought about them. Lucy, and the things she used to do to you, the spark you used to have that still makes the occasional appearance when you least expect it. Ona, and the way her hands feel in your hair when she braids it before a game, the way your stomach churns with butterflies whenever she smiles at you and those perfect eyes look into yours.

To have both of them at the same time is beyond your wildest fantasies.

“Go on,” Lucy says to Ona. “I know you’ve been dying to kiss her for months.”

Your heart rate picks up.

“Yeah?”

Ona counters this by shaking her head.

“Not months. Lucy’s exaggerating.”

“I’m not. She talks about you all the time. About what it’d be like to kiss you, to have you in our bed. And I told her if she was that desperate, she should just go for it. I know you like the direct approach, it worked for me all them years ago. But no. No, Ona wanted to seduce you. Why do you think she’s been taking you on all those coffee dates? She’s been trying to woo you.”

Your ego swells with the knowledge that Ona, beautiful and kind and funny as she is, who has already pretty much hit the relationship jackpot by bagging herself Lucy, has apparently spent months plotting her pursuit of you.

Not that you had any idea. Ona has always strayed onto the affectionate side of friendship whenever you’ve hung out with her. Maybe if she’d been single, you might have picked up on some clues, but you’ve known about her relationship with Lucy since you joined the team and never had any reason to think that Ona’s familiarity with you was down to anything else but the fact that she’s simply Spanish.

You explain this to them.

“I thought she was just being nice.”

Lucy chuckles to herself at this, then says, “Course you did. Sweet little Ona, welcoming you to Barça. Just wait until you find out Little Miss Perfect isn’t so innocent after all.”

If you weren’t already interested, Lucy’s words fill you with intrigue.

“Come here,” you instruct Ona.

Ona glances at Lucy, as if asking for her permission, and Lucy responds by rolling her eyes and clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“Don’t get shy on us now as if this wasn’t your idea in the first place.”

Ona’s cheeks are pink but she pushes up to her feet and crosses over to you. She stops awkwardly in front of you, scratching at a hangnail on her thumb until you reach for her hand and pull her closer, leaving her very little choice but to clamber into your lap.

“You’ve been planning this, huh?” you murmur to her, as if you’re the only two in the room. Your hands find her hips as she settles with a leg on either side of your thighs. “What, Lucy wasn’t enough for you?”

“She is,” Ona says. “But…”

Ona trails off, teeth chewing into her lower lip.

“But what?” You prompt her.

There’s a brief moment where time seems to stand still, except for the visible rise and fall of Ona’s chest as she breathes, then she answers, “But I wanted you too.”

Hearing Ona vocalise her desire for you gives you a rush that comes second only to scoring a goal in a cup final.

It makes you giddy. And you really don’t want to fuck it up, which is why you take a few deep breaths in time with the strokes of your hands up and down Ona’s thighs as you compose yourself before you speak again.

“All those times you took me out for coffee, all the times you translated for me in training or did my hair before a game, you were thinking about this, weren’t you? About having my hands on your body.” You lean closer until your foreheads rest against each other, hot breath mingling in the almost nonexistent gap between your mouths, then whisper, “My lips against your skin.”

Ona tilts her chin up slightly, trying to tempt you into finally closing the gap. When you don’t, she resorts to begging.

“Please.”

“What do you want?” You want to coax it out of her, committing every part of this moment to memory. “Tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

[lowpolynpixelated]

Bloodborne PSX One of the best fanworks on the web

Though the PS4 boasted and still boasts an impressive library of releases, for many (myself included) the system served to be bought for initially one purpose, to be the Bloodborne Machine. Most of the people in my life who had a PS4 during its generation either bought one exclusively to play Fromsoftware’s Nightmare Hunting Adventure or had initially got one solely to play the game and ended up getting more games afterward. It’s a phenomenon the game industry sees time and time again, with previous generations having swathes of fans buying entire consoles for one or two games. As far as games go though, Bloodborne is at the very least worth the price of entry. At the time, it was heralded as Fromsoftware’s most cutting-edge and impressive game to date. A gorgeous gothic world filled with creatures ripped straight out of H.P Lovecraft’s nightmares, a haunting soundtrack showcasing beautifully composed choral scores and a combat system that incentivized aggression and speed to achieve brutal and bloody efficiency. It’s no wonder then why Bloodborne still has such a large following behind it. Fans of Fromsoftware have hoped for a sequel or PC port year after year to largely disappointing results. But where the community shines is in its fanworks. 

From fanart, comics, music, animations, and even fan-made video game spinoffs, the game has been shown a monumental amount of love since its debut in 2015. One of these fanworks was released back in 2022 and has since become one of the most famous pieces of fan-made content surrounding the game, this of course, being BloodbornePSX by LWMedia. An incredibly impressive feat of coding and art direction, the game serves as a “Demake” of Bloodborne’s first Yharnam segment, made to look like and play as if it were made on the very first PlayStation console. With some custom-made areas and an entirely unique boss to boot the perfectly paced experience is both a treat to fans who have been orbiting the game since its earliest days and new fans looking for the best and brightest fanworks to interact with. 

The game has since gone on to be covered by a variety of news outlets all over the web, along with its creator receiving much-deserved attention for her efforts. One Lilith Walther (AKA b0tster on social media) holds the title of developer for the project. A long-time video game enthusiast and FromSoftware fan herself, she’s had quite an impact on the community I’m sure she’s very proud to be a part of. Later in the article, we’ve got an interview with Lilith herself about both Bloodborne PSX and her current project, “Bloodborne Kart”, but first, let’s talk a bit more in-depth about BBPSX.

(Official launch trailer for Bloodborne PSX, uploaded January 31, 2022 by LWMedia on Youtube)

Bloodborne PSX:

So, what exactly is Bloodborne PSX? To start, let’s answer what precisely a “Demake” is first. Demakes often have the goal of remaking the likeness of a game either stylistically, mechanically, or both, as if it was developed on retro/outdated hardware. Famous examples of Demakes include “The Mummy Demastered” developed by Wayforward as a sort of tie-in to the 2017 film “The Mummy” in the stylings of a 16-bit run and gun adventure against armies of the undead, and “Pixel Force Halo” by Eric Ruth games which take the prolific XBOX franchise and shrinks it down to a Mega Man-esque platformer reminiscent of the NES’ 8-bit days. Demakes are intensely attractive looking, not only into the past of video games and their developments but just how creative developers can be with games that they love and appreciate. Bloodborne PSX hits as hard as a Demake can in my opinion, blending masterfully recreated graphics with perfectly clunky early PSX gameplay quirks that go above and beyond to make the game not only LOOK like it belongs on the nearly 30-year-old console but feel right at home on it as well.

(A screenshot depicting the player character “The Hunter” facing off against two fearsome Werewolf enemies. Screenshot sourced from the Bloodborne PSX Official itch.io page)

Gameplay:

Starting off with the masterfully recreated clunk in the gameplay, Bloodborne PSX “shows its age” by hearkening back to a time when being seamless just wasn’t an option. Much like adventure action games of the past (and much UNLIKE its modern inspiration), you’ll be cycling through your inventory delightfully more than you’d expect. Equipping keys, checking items, and even the trademark weapon transformations are all done through the wonderfully nostalgic menu and inventory screens. Taking one of the foundational parts of Bloodborne’s combat system and making it such a more encumbering mechanic is nothing short of sheer genius when it comes to ways to really make you feel like it’s 1994 again. On top of this, the Hunter’s movement itself has been made reminiscent of classic action titles. Somehow, both stiff enough to feel dated and fluid enough to make combat that same rush of bestial fun found in the original, it goes a long way towards the total immersion into that retro vibe the game sets out to give the player. Anyone who grew up with Fromsoftware’s earlier titles like Armored Core and the King’s Field series will be very familiar with this unique brand of “well-tuned clunk”.

(A delightfully dated looking diagram showing off the controller layout for Bloodborne PSX’s controls. Image sourced from the Bloodborne PSX Official itch.io page)

Graphics:

Speaking of old Fromsoftware games, though, let’s talk about the absolutely bit-crushingly beautiful graphical work on display. As I’m sure you’ve seen from the videos and screenshots included in the article, BBPSX’s art style and direction are nothing short of perfect for what it aims to be. While playing, I couldn’t help but notice every little detail (or lack thereof) in the environments meant to emulate the experience of a game made on 30-year-old hardware. Low render distances, chunky textures, blocky polygonal models, just the right amount of texture warp, it all blends together to create an atmosphere that I can 100% picture being shown off on the back of a jewel CD case with a T for Teen rating slapped into the lower corner. While playing, something rather specific that called out to me was the new way enemy names and health bars were displayed in the bottom right corner of the screen while fighting. As a big fan of the King’s Field games, this small detail went (probably too much of) a long way toward my love of how everything’s meant to feel older. Other games trying to match the more specific feel of King’s Field, like “Lunacid” created by KIRA LLC, also include this delightful little detail, a personal favorite for sure. 

(A screenshot depicting the second phase of Father Gascoigne’s boss fight, showing off the game’s perfectly retro art style. Image sourced from the Bloodborne PSX Official itch.io page)

Sound design/Soundtrack:

But where would a game be without its sound and score? No need to fear, however, because Bloodborne PSX comes complete with a chunky soundscape that will make you want to check and see if your TV is set to channel 3. A haunting set of tracks played by fittingly digital-sounding MIDIs ran through filters to sound just as crackly as you remember backs up crunchy sounds of spilling blood with low-poly weaponry. Original sounds from Bloodborne have been used for an authentic sounding experience, but have also been given the CRT speaker treatment and sound like something you remember playing on Halloween 20 years ago. If you watched the launch trailer featured above then you know exactly what I’m talking about. The Cleric Beast’s trademark screech and Gascoine’s signature howl after his beastly transformation have never sounded so beautifully dated, and I’m here for every bit of it. Even the horrific boss themes we know and love from the original Bloodborne have been brought through this portal to the past. One of my favourite tracks, the Cleric Beast boss theme, might just sound even better when played on a 16-bit sound chip. It really cannot be understated just how much weight the sound design of the game is pulling. In my opinion, the only thing missing is that sweet sweet PSX startup sound before the game starts crackling through the speakers of a TV in the computer room.

(The Bloodborne PSX rendition of the Cleric Beast’s boss theme. Created by and uploaded to Youtube by The Noble Demon on March 20, 2021)

Interview with the developer:

Before writing this article, I had the absolute pleasure and privilege of talking with Lilith Walther about some developmental notes and personal feelings about inspirations and challenges that can come with the daunting task of being a developer. Below are the nine (initially ten, but unfortunately, a bit of the interview was lost due to my recording software bugging out) questions I posed to Miss Lilith, along with her answers transcribed directly from the interview. 

I’d like to start this section of the article by saying Lilith was an absolute joy to talk to. During the interview, I really felt like she and I shared some common ground on some topics regarding how media can have an impact on you and what sorts of things come with video games as an art form. After some minor technical difficulties (and by that, I mean my video drivers crashed), I started off with something simple. The first question posited was: “What got you into video games initially?” Lilith’s response was as follows: “When I was a kid, the family member of a friend had a SNES lying around. I turned it on and didn’t really understand. I was a guy on top of a pyramid, I walked down the pyramid, and some big ogre killed me. Later I learned that was A Link to the past.” and after a brief laugh continued, “A couple years later my parents got a Nintendo 64 with Mario64 and Ocarina of Time and that was it. Never put the controller down since then.” 

She then went on to describe what precisely about Nintendo’s first foray into 3D Zelda had hooked her. “I’ve heard this story so many times. It’s like you’re not even playing the game. You’re just in the world hanging out in Kokiri forest collecting rupees to get the Deku shield, and the game expects you to! It was just, ‘run around this world and explore,’ and that really hooked me.” I couldn’t agree more with her statement about her experience. Not just with a game as prolific as Ocarina of Time but many experiences from older console generations that could be considered “the first of their kind”, or at the very least some of the earliest. Lilith also described her first experience with a PlayStation console, stating: “Later on I got a PS2 which played PS1 games. I didn’t end up getting a PS1 until around the PS3 era, so I guess I’m a poser. I remember my sister bringing home Final Fantasy 9 when it was a relatively new game. If it wasn’t my first PS1 game it was definitely my first Final Fantasy game. Of course I went back and played 8 and 7 afterwards.” A solid answer to a simple question. 

The second question I asked was one starting to move toward the topic of Bloodborne PSX and its namesake/inspiration. Or at least the family of systems it was released on: “What PlayStation console was your favorite and why?” Lilith’s answer surprised me a bit. Not because I disagreed, quite the opposite, actually. But with such a big inspiration for her work being games from the PSX-PS2 generations, what followed was a pleasant bit of insight into one of her favourite eras of gaming, to quote: “I can give you two answers here.” To which I assured her she was more than welcome to, but she was set on having something definitive. “No no I’m only going to give you one answer. I can give you the correct answer that I don’t want to admit, but it was the PlayStation 3. It’s so embarrassing but I genuinely was hooked into the marketing of the whole ‘The cell processor is the smartest thing in the world’ and all that. It really seemed like the future of gaming and I was all about it. I think I owned an XBOX360 before but I did eventually get it and really enjoyed it. It took a couple years for some of the best games to come out but I really did.” A few examples she cited as being some of her most memorable experiences on the console were Uncharted 2, Journey, Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare, and Warhawk. All games I’ve seen on several top 5 and top 10 lists throughout my life within the gaming space. A delightful show of affection for a generation personally very dear to me as well, in which she ended the segment by declaring “Hell yeag”, a bit of a catchphrase she’s coined online.

Getting into the topic proper, my third question was one about her personal relationship with Bloodborne: “How did Bloodborne impact/appeal to your interests?” A question that received perhaps my favourite answer of the whole interview. From her response: ”Oh that’s a big one. Going to the opposite end of the poser spectrum, I was a Fromsoftware fan before it was cool. One of the games I played religiously on my PS2 was Armored Core.” A statement which made more sense than perhaps anything else said during my time with her. “Then later in the PS3 era everyone was talking about Dark Souls, this was when I was in college. I finally caved and got it and saw the Fromsoftware logo and thought ‘Oh it’s the Armored Core people!’ I played and beat it, really enjoyed my time with it. I skipped Dark Souls 2 because everyone told me to hate it, I still need to go back to that one.” 

It’s something I would recommend anyone who hasn’t played Dark Souls 2 to go and do. “Then Bloodborne came out and I thought ‘Alright this is the new one, gotta play this one’ and I was a huge fan of all the gothic stuff in the aesthetic. And how do I explain this, I do really like Bloodborne. I like the design, and the mechanical suite of gameplay, as a video-gamey video game it’s very good.” The tone shifted here to something a bit more personal. “But as well, I was playing it at a specific time in my life. I came out in 2019, I know Bloodborne came out in 2015 but I was obviously just playing it non-stop. It was just one of my ‘coming out games’, you know?” For those who maybe don’t understand the statement there, “coming out” is a very common term used within the Queer community to describe the experience of revealing your identity to those around you. Whether it be to family, friends, or co-workers, almost every queer person has some sort of coming out story to tell. Lilith is speaking in reference to her coming out as a trans woman. She elaborated: “Obviously I can only speak for myself, but I just feel like when you make a decision like that, that part of my life just ended up seared into my brain, you know? Bloodborne was there, so now it’s just a part of me. And it definitely influenced some things about me. It was there because I was working on Bloodborne PSX at the time, but it had an impact on something I’ve heard a lot of other Trans people describe.” She went on to describe the concept of “Coming out a second time” as sort of “finding yourself more within your identity” and becoming more affirmed in it. She described both Bloodborne and her development on Bloodborne PSX influencing large parts of her life, a good example being how she dresses and presents. As a trans woman myself, this answer delighted me to no end. I, for one, can absolutely 100% relate to the notion of media you experience during such a radical turning point in your life sticking with you. There are plenty of games, shows, music, and books that I still hold very near and dear to me because, as Lilith stated, they were there. All the right things at the right time.

Halfway through our questions, we’ve finally arrived at one pertaining specifically to the development of Bloodborne PSX: “What are some unique challenges you’ve faced developing a game meant to look/play like something made on retro hardware?”

Lilith answers: “So there’s two things, two big things. One is rolling back all of the quality of life improvements we’ve gotten over the years in gaming. Not automatically using keys is always my go-to example.” Something as well I mentioned in my short talk about the game’s gloriously dated feeling gameplay above. “That was definitely very very intentional. Because it’s not just the graphics, right? It was the design sensibilities of the 90s. Bringing that to the surface was very challenging but very fun. Another big part was, since it was one of the first 3D consoles, I wanted to recreate the hype around the fact that ‘ITS IN 3D NOW!’ So if you go into your inventory you’ll see all the objects rendered in beautiful 3D while they slowly spin as you scroll through them.” This is a feature I very much miss seeing in modern video games. 

She continued, “I think the biggest one was the weapon changes. Bloodborne’s whole thing was the weapon transformations. Like, you could seamlessly change your weapons and work them into your combo and do a bunch of crazy stuff, and I kind of said ‘that needs to go immediately.’ So now you have to pause and go to your weapon and press L1 to transform it, that was extremely intentional. So once I had those three big things down it all just sort of fell into place. Like the clunky UI and the janky controls. You need jank and clunk, and I think that’s why Fromsoft games scale down so nicely, because they are jank and clunk.” 

A point I couldn’t agree with more. Despite all the modern streamlining and improvements to gameplay, Fromsoft’s ever-growing catalog of impressive experiences still contains some of that old-school video game stiffness we’ve (hopefully) come to appreciate. She went on to make a point I was very excited to share here in the article, “It was just a lot of trying to nail the feel of the games and not just the look, right? Like I’m not trying to recreate a screenshot; I’m trying to recreate the feeling of playing this weird game that’s barely holding together because the devs didn’t know what they were doing.” In my humble opinion, something she did an excellent job with. 

Fifth on the list was a question relating to her current project, Bloodborne Kart, a concept initially drawn from a popular meme shared around social media sites like Tumblr when the buzz of a Bloodborne sequel was keeping the talking spaces around Fromsoft alight: “Anything to say about the development of Bloodborne Kart or its inspiration?”

Lilith answers: “So first off Bloodborne Kart is less trying to be a simulation of a PS1 game and more just an indie game. It’s not trying to be a PS1 game, I just want it to be a fun kart racer first. Starting off of course is Mario Kart 64, that’s the one I played back in the day. But I looked at other games like Crash Team Racing and Diddy Kong Racing, but also stuff like Twisted Metal of course. I always used those as a template to sort of look at for design stuff like ‘how did they handle what happens to racers after player 1 crosses the finish line.” The next portion of her answer was initially a bit confusing but comes across better when you consider certain elements present in BBK’s battle mode. “And also Halo, like for the battle mode. I had to do a battle mode and it kind of just bubbled to the surface. Split Screen with my sister was such a big part of my childhood. Thinking about Halo multiplayer while I was making the battle mode stuff.” 

Her answer to the previous question began to dip into the topic of our sixth question: “Are there any unique challenges or enjoyable creative points that go into making something like Bloodborne Kart?”

As she continued from her previous answer: “One of the biggest quirks of the battle mode I had to figure out was how to tell what team you were on at a glance, and that came back to Halo again. I started thinking about how you could tell in that game and it hit me that the arms of your suit change to the color of whatever team you’re on. It was just something I never even thought of because it’s so seamless. So that gave me the idea to change the kart colours, and that’s the most recent example of me pulling directly from Halo. It’s wild how a small change like that can turn your game from something unplayable to something fun.” I would agree. Tons of small details and things you don’t think about go into making seamless multiplayer experiences. Some of which we take for granted nowadays. She then made a point about one of the most challenging aspects of BBK’s development, “The most challenging thing was definitely the Kart AI. AI is just my worst skill when it comes to game development among the massive array of skills you need to make a game. It’s really hard to find examples of people coding kart driving AI, You know? You need to make a biped walk around you can find a million tutorials online but if you need to make something drive a kart, not really. I was really on my own there. A lot of the examples out there are very simulation oriented. Like cars using suspension and whatnot, but I’m making a kart racer. So I started simple, I put a navpoint down and if it needs to turn left, turn left, if it needs to turn right, turn right. And I just kept adding features from there.”

Moving onto our last three questions, we started to get a little more personal. Question seven being: “What’s your favorite part of Bloodborne Kart so far?”

Her answer was concise in what she was excited about most, quote: “The boss fights.” Short and sweet but she did elaborate. “Translating a big part of Bloodborne is the boss fights. So I made a short linear campaign which is basically AI battles and races strung together. Some of those stages are just boss fights which are unique to the rest of the game. When you make a video game you sit down and you make all your different modes of interactions, and then you make a multi-hour experience mixing and matching all those different modes in more complicated ways. I think the most interesting part is when that style tends to fall away and it ends up building something entirely unique to that experience.” An example she gave was the infamous “Eventide Island” in Breath of the wild, it being a unique experience where the game’s usual modes of interaction are stripped or limited, forcing you into a more structured experience that ends up being a majorly positive one. “That’s what the boss fights are in Bloodborne Kart. They do multiple game mechanics like a chase that ends in a battle mode. Like Father Gascoine’s fight where he chases you, and after you blow up his kart he turns into a beast and picks up a minigun.” That sounds absolutely incredible. It’s very easy to see why she’d pick the boss fights as her favorite element when they’re clearly intended to be such unique and memorable experiences. 

Our last two questions veer away from the topics of development proper and focus more on our dear dev’s personal thoughts on the matter. Question eight posits: “What’s your personal favorite part of being a game developer?”

After some thought, she gave a very impassioned talk about something she considers to be the best part of the experience: “When people who aren’t game developers think about game development they think of things like ‘oh well you just get to play video games all day and have fun’ but it’s not! Except for the 2% that is, and it’s near the end of development. When all the pieces fall into place and you start actually ‘making the game.’ Game development, especially solo, you’re so zoomed in on specific parts. Because you’re not making a game you’re programming software that’s what making a game is. You spend months working on different systems and then you actually sit down and make a level, and you hit play and it you go ‘Oh my god, I just made a game’. That part is what sustains me. It’s magical. That’s the best part when it comes to true appreciation of the craft aside from the reception.” An answer that I don’t think I could’ve put better if I tried. 

My last question is one that I consider to be the question when it comes to interviewing anyone who works on video games. Perhaps a bit basic, but heartfelt nonetheless: “Anything to say to anyone aspiring to be a game developer?”

Lilith’s answer: “Yes. Just do it. For real. This is what I did and it always felt wrong until I looked at more established devs echoing the sentiment. You cannot plan a game before you’ve started making one. The example I always bring up is the team behind Deus Ex wrote a 500 page design document for the game and almost immediately threw it out when they started development. Just start! You’re going to have unanswered questions and I think that trips people up. Don’t start with your magnum opus idea, start with something simple and achievable. I feel like a lot of people set out with the goal of making a triple-A game, and that’s good! But it can’t be your first game. Game development is creating art, just like any other form of art, and it’s like saying ‘my first drawing is going to be the Mona Lisa’ and it just doesn’t work like that. You need practice and development, and it’s difficult to see that because games take so long and so much, so it’s definitely seen as a bigger undertaking. But it’s still art. You’re still making mistakes and learning from them for your first project. Your next game will be better. View your career as a game developer as a series of games you want to make, and not just one big game.” A perfect response to an otherwise unassuming question. 

Lilith’s passion and love for video games were reflected very clearly in every response she gave during my time with her. Her dedication and appreciation for the art form can be seen in every pixel of Bloodborne PSX, as well as the development logs and test builds of Bloodborne Kart. I really do think that the way she answered my final question speaks volumes to the type of attitude someone should take up when endeavoring to make art as intensive as a video game. Whether it’s fanwork of a game that’s important to you or an entirely new concept, do it. 

(developer of Bloodborne PSX Lilith Walther, image provided by Lilith Walther via Twitter)

Closing:

If you’d like to check out the positively phenomenal experience that is Bloodborne PSX  I’ve included a link to the official itch.io page below the article, as well as a link to the official LWMedia Youtube page where you can check out Lilith’s dev logs, test videos, and animations about her work and other art. Thank you so much for reading, and another very special thank you to Lilith for setting aside some of her time to talk to me about this article. Now get out there and cleanse those foul streets!

Links:

Bloodborne PSX official itch.io page: https://b0tster.itch.io/bbpsx

LWMedia Official Youtube page: https://www.youtube.com/@b0tster

Lilith Walther Twitter page: https://twitter.com/b0tster

[hannieehaee]

BOY WITH LUV (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: a new job as a barista should be easy enough, right? except it gets a whole lot more complicated when the coffee shop's most loved client just decides he has to have you OR richboy!jk falls for barista!reader and refuses to give up.

content: richboy!jk, downbad!jk, barista!reader, sub-ish!jk, reader plays hard to get just for plot purposes, jk is down horribly bad for reader, afab reader, smut, dry humping, jk's the embodiment of needy, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.2k (teaser); 8.8k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: october 22nd

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: downbad!jk is back!

masterlist | patreon

"Anyways just be careful with how many pumps you add to drinks. Customers can be extremely sensitive about that kind of stuff. Trust me," rambled on your new trainer, Jen? Jess? Something like that.

You watched disinterested, already having had a menial barista job in the past and being well aware of the high expectations of disgruntled customers. You, too, had been verbally harassed by one too many people in dire need of a drink far too specific for the average person to memorize. It was still appreciated, though, the effort she took in walking you through every step to ensure you did good at your new position.

Despite your focus on the task being demonstrated to you not being at its best, you did take notice when Jean(?) stopped her mentoring and instead spilled some of the drink she was currently making, clearly now equally as distracted as you. Her focus was no longer on the counter you were practicing drinks on, but instead looking past you and towards the counter a few steps behind you.

You meant to call out her name to question her, but without an angle on her name tag or any confidence in actually remembering the correct name, you simply grabbed at a nearby towel and cleaned off the mess, not bothering to look at whatever was distracting her. It was too early for you to bother.

Snapping out of her trance mere seconds later, she tapped at your shoulder urgently, her voice now a whisper as she leaned close for you to hear what she was about to say.

"Oh my God, don't look, but that's Jungkook," she whispered excitedly, as if letting you in on information you had any context about — hint: you had no idea who nor what she was referring to.

Turning around, you eyed another one of your new coworkers tending to the line at the counter, but more specifically helping out some guy. Focusing your eyes on him, you could now understand why his presence had caused a short-circuit in Jane (?) and why she felt the need to announce his presence to you.

The distraction in question presented itself in the form of a very tall and fit guy, one with a fully tattooed sleeve and dreamy black curls. Other outstanding attributes were the very obvious muscles encompassing his entire body and the shine that came from the various piercings on his face. In short, the man was nothing short of a dream straight from a Pinterest board — and the charisma radiating from his mere presence did not help matters.

"He's a regular. No one really knows much about him other than he's rich. He tips like 200% above his total," continued June, still leaning in your direction to whisper.

You felt bad at how obvious you were whilst staring at the boy, but he was likely the prettiest one you'd seen in a while. The blank expression in your stare did not tell on you, but it did not deny the fact that you were staring.

"We take turns serving him," your coworker informed you, "Sometimes we fight over it. He's a natural flirt, but he does it with everyone, so we're not sure if he's taken or not," she proceeded to tell you benign details about him that had you nodding along as you continued to stare at him.

The usually fast-paced place seemed to slow down when he entered the coffee shop, with most baristas' attentions going to him rather than their jobs. If he was aware of it, he was good at ignoring it, instead giving a flashy smile to the lucky barista currently tending to him. From the short distance between you, you were unable to hear his conversation, but you still had a perfect view of him as he simply existed. He could easily see you, as there was nothing in his way, but he hadn't yet, somehow oblivious to the attention he was receiving from all other baristas in the house.

As time stood still for everyone else, it continued normally for him. He paid for his drink, having it quickly bypass all other prior orders and made immediately by one of the many girls fawning at him. God, even the two baristas working the drive-thru had taken a short break from it go gawk.

It wasn't until moments later that Jungkook seemed to get a taste of his own medicine, with his own time suddenly coming to a halt. As he turned around to leave, sweet drink now in hand, his eyes incidentally met yours, causing him to pause mid turn and do a double take in order to catch your eyes again.

It was ridiculous, really. Almost too identical to those moments you'd see in those dumb romcoms you used to enjoy as a teenager. Except this was actually happening. And it was happening to you. As all your new coworkers watched his every move with extreme attention.

His eyes widened a bit. It was something the naked eye might've missed, but not you (nor the other five girls watching). His head tilted a bit to the side — maybe in curiosity due to not having seen you there before (Joanne did mention he was a regular). A ghost of a smirk took over the natural smile that had been on his lips since arrival. And lastly, a nod was sent your way — a nod in acknowledgment to your presence, but also with a flirtatious hint to it. It was hard to describe. You simply had to be there.

You remained watching him with a poker face throughout. The same poker face you'd had since clocking in to work that morning. It wasn't that you were mean or not a people person, you simply hated work. You'd been told you had a bit of a resting bitch face and gave a mean impression to those who didn't know you, but that was beside the point. The pretty boy whose attention you'd caught had gotten lucky, though, as he at least received the ghost of a smile from you before he left.

The first thing to occur upon his departure was a squeal from your left. The perpetrator? Julie (or whatever her name was).

"Oh my god!," she let out, grabbing onto your shoulder so you'd face her, "Did you see that?"

"See what?", you asked, not 100% sure of what had just happened.

"He totally checked you out . He's never done that before. Maybe he likes you? God, don't let Lila find out, she's got a huge crush on him," she informed you, once again assuming you knew who the hell Lila was.

"Hah, I think he might've just been surprised to see a new face," you downplayed, "What were you explaining before he got here? The thing with the pumps and the-"

"He comes here every morning at 8 or so. How about you take his order tomorrow? Y'know, just to test my theory," she suggested, disregarding your question.

"Orders? It's my first day here. Isn't training like two weeks lon-"

"It's fine! I'll be shadowing you. You'll do great! Now let's get back to your training-"

"Jane! I need more change at drive thru!", called one of the drive thru girls, interrupting your conversation.

"Coming, Lila!", she responded, giving you a polite smile before handing you the shaker she had just been holding, "Just practice some drinks how I taught you. I'll be right back to show you how to work the register."

So her name was Jane. And that was Lila.

At least you learned something today.

...

you can check it out today on my patreon by subscribing!

reply if you'd like to be tagged!

[dauntlessallure]

𖤐 ⸝⸝ ˚ ┊ INSULT TO INJURY — T. FUSHIGURO ⋆

〝 ⠀ ݁ 𝐁𝐎𝐗𝐄𝐑!𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ❜ ⠀݁ ⠀

【 SYNOPSIS 】— he’s mean. tough. toji fushiguro shouldn’t be so much to deal with until he is. you fix him up & he gives you a lil reward.

【 CONTENTS 】— boxer!toji , medic!reader , reader referred to as ‘ she ‘, fem-bodied reader, smut , slight angst / comfort , mentions of blood & injuries , mature language , jealousy , mutual stalking, hints at masturbation , consensual non-consent , unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it. ) MDNI + any other missing tags .ᐟ

【 PAIRING 】— toji fushiguro x reader

【 WORD COUNT 】— 2.2k

【 TAG LIST 】— @itsmonicabc @girlluvsblogging

⠀ ̽ ⠀ ᝰ✍︎ ﹐⠀/⠀ ❝ ⠀ 𝔄𝗗𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝔑𝗢𝗧𝗘 . . .

THE LONG AWAITED BOXER TOJI IS HERE. alrighty people , toji had won the poll vote for the first of the boxer!jjk men series. reblogs are very much appreciated <3. comment to be added to my tag list .ᐟ this work is not yet proof read.

boxer!toji was one of the first of many people that you had first taken care of as a medic. it was your first event working with the company , everyone you had run into was very very nice and seemed happy to have the extra support that your dainty little hands could provide. though at first , toji was refusing treatment. he called it “ a waste of time. “ which is translation for: im slightly embarrassed. toji was never the one to ask for help. in his own brain , he handles his own healing even if his nose was pouring blood like a leaking faucet. but you , you’d insisted that he’d stay. lucky you didn’t have to tell him twice. he couldn’t say no to you, a beautiful individual with a good head on your shoulders.

boxer!toji was endlessly throwing compliments at you the entire time as you tended to his bloody nose. “ do ya always look this pretty while fixing your patients up ? “ his word’s immediately went straight to your head. toji fushiguro was undoubtedly handsome, and huge in stature while you were just a tiny little thing. he smirked as you looked at him with a reddened face, toji knew what he was doing. “ awh cmon doll , you ain’t gotta be shy about it. “ at this point, he was just teasing you. “ just . . hold still “ was the only thing you managed to get out.

boxer!toji who gets jealous that others are in dire need of your care besides just him. someone who honed the same skill as you certainly wasn't uncommon but you ? you were the only one that toji allowed to actually touch him. you were just following up with another patient, geto suguru when toji walked in to see you wrapping up geto’s left hand. you didn’t even notice toji standing outside of the doorway until geto cleared his throat, causing you to look up from suguru’s limb. toji was already staring directly at you and now suguru. you’d be lying to say that his stare didn’t do things to you. “ oh toji .ᐟ i’ll be with you in just a mome— “ he didn’t give you time to finish “ i’ll come back later when you aren’t so busy with some lightweight. “ toji spat as he glared at geto before walking away. you quickly apologized to geto, finishing taping up his hand.

boxer!toji still remembers the first time he laid eyes on you. just staring at you from afar while you spoke to the chairman of the company, masamichi yaga. toji stared you and your body like a piece of meat. as shiu , toji’s manager was deep in conversation with him but the sorcerer killer had one thing on his mind. “ she’s too pretty to be working in a place like this “ he had spoken out loud. shiu’s eyes followed toji’s gaze which led him to you. perhaps even the contractor agreed in silence. you locked eyes with both men as you were stepping into your office for the evening, causing a small friendly smile to play on your lips while toji’s dark gaze seemed to burn a feeling into you that you just couldn’t shake off upon entering your new workspace.

boxer!toji who HATES losing. It makes him feel so small even though toji couldn’t be small even if he wanted to. especially with the most recent loss he had taken, It hit him hard. The media alone already hated him so this was only insult to injury for fushiguro. he just wasn’t able to understand it. if you thought he was embarrassed before, it just went up a couple notches. how did it all go so wrong ? not to mention, he had some nasty injuries to only add to his frustration. tonight’s scheduled fight went out of control in toji’s favor. toji was set to fight on ‘the strongest’ fighter , satoru gojo. the whole time you watched from backstage , just flinching everytime a punch was thrown or a kick was made. you could replay that brutal moment in your mind , that’s how explicit it was. a loud CRRAAACK was heard after satoru had thrusted his knee upwards into toji’s face. — ouch. you immediately knew something was wrong by the dazed expression displayed on toji’s face, his body falling limp.

boxer!toji was quickly rushed to your area as soon as possible by shiu, he was still in a hazed state of mind. mostly anger and confusion fizzled in his mind as you instructed him to sit. toji obeyed your orders & sat on the medical bench, now holding an ice pack to the giant laceration that skimmed the side of his head whilst staring blankly at the wall in-front of him in silence. shiu sighed at toji’s stillness before walking out of the medical area, leaving you to now look after toji. the medical room was just gasping for comfort , nothing but a thick and awkward tension lingered in the air. toji slowly turned his face towards you , almost emotionless. it was nerve wracking, you’d expect him to be yelling or just mouthing off but no. his pride was hurt to push you away , not this time.

boxer!toji who for once lets you tend to his needs without any trouble or bartering, he just couldn’t bring himself to say no to you again. even though he’s mentally punching himself for letting his guard down, but he really has no choice here. toji sure as hell wasn’t gonna go to an actual hospital to see what’s wrong with him. maybe it’s better for you anyways, you needed the hands on experience. “ just do what you have to do. . make it quick. “ he didn’t have to tell you twice. you stood up to change your gloves , he was now staring at you. his eyes raked down over your body before landing back onto your face , toji could feel your concern about him which made him feel guilty. . why ? who really knows ? the way toji’s mind works is complex. . he feels bad & guilty over things that he has zero control over.

boxer!toji blurts out “ i betcha think i’m weak , don’t you ? “ , it causes you to stop your movements and look at toji. “ what ? no toji , i don’t think you’re weak. . . “ trailing off on your words , your skilled hands proceed to fix up the gash on toji’s head. “ if anything , you’re everything but weak. not everyone can do this type of career , and not everyone can be toji fushiguro. if that was the case then there would be a million guys running in and out of that locker room . . you did good , but you can’t win them all. “ you words seemed to stick in toji’s mind for the rest of time you’ve spent fixing him up, the short exchange of words made the tension less apparent. soon enough you set toji on his way. “ please take it easy . . Be careful with your nose too , your lucky it wasn’t broken fushiguro. but i will need you to check in with me soon with that gash, keep it clean ! “

boxer!toji never did come back for his checkup during the next event. matter of fact , he didn’t even even show up for the next few events which caused you to worry. you go as far as waving down shiu and asking him what the hell was up. “ fushiguro says he is still recovering “ shiu reassured you that toji was fine. but you began to speculate that something else was going on, something deeper beyond your comprehension. but what could you do about it ? nothing. after all , you were just a medic. you’d nod at shiu before stepping away back into your office, groaning while you slowly shut the door behind you. . perhaps you were beginning to miss that hunk of a man a little too much.

boxer!toji who’s stalking your social media a little too hard during his ‘ recovery ‘. endless hours of his dark colored orbs staring at the screen of his phone , just scrolling away on your instagram. these pictures didn’t do you enough justice he thought , you were even better looking up close. little did toji know that you were doing the same thing. . you didn’t understand why people hated him. better yet , why on earth he didn’t have a significant other ? all the gym photos of him shirtless with a sheen of sweat covering over his torso and chest , it made your heart thump. the pool of arousal quickly making itself known in the pit of your stomach. . was this wrong ? you kept staring at the picture while your hand began to snake it’s way below the waistband of your shorts but you stopped once you realized you had accidentally liked the photo ! were trying to get a better grip of the phone in your shaky hands , your chest tightened with anxiety as you quickly unliked the photo. phew ! there’s no way he could see that you didn’t just like a photo of his from six months ago !

boxer!toji who did in fact see that you did in fact like a picture of him from six months ago. a low chuckle leaving his lips seeing the notification pop up on the upper half of the screen only for him to grin as he refreshed his notifications. — no notification. it disappeared. toji was cocky enough when it came to the effect he had on people in any manner. after seeing you doing the same mutual stalking that he was doing only 30 minutes ago caused all those feelings to rush to his raging length , restricting itself by the fabric of his sweatpants. toji was more than ready for his check up.

boxer!toji slowly sneaks into your office during the next event. it was quite early in the evening, not even all the fighters had arrived yet. but toji had something he needed to prioritize before making a complete comeback from his injury. you. while nobody is looking, not even you noticed him snaking his way through the door, quietly closing the door with a soft click.

while bent over , tidying up your area — a pair of large hands grip at your hips. causing a gasp to flee from your lungs. “ shhhh. it’s just me princess. “ you knew that voice , causing a shiver trickle it’s way down your spine. it was toji. slowly bending upwards, his lands kept a firm hold on your lower half. a quiet chuckle coming from the man behind you. “ toji , what are you doi– “ he didn’t even let you finish your sentence before one of his rough hands made its way up to your throat, giving it a light squeeze. quickly hushing you, toji presses his body against your backside while leaning down to your ear. “ someone’s been stalkin’ me late at night , hm ? “ fuck, he knew. “ we both know what you’re doing up at those hours of the night , don’t we ? “ as if he wasn’t doing the same exact thing , humiliation began to leech itself into your brain. how embarrassing ! the other thing you muttered out was a strangled “ m’ sorry ! i-it was wrong of me ! “ evidently your ‘sorry’ and honesty wasn’t much to toji, as now you found yourself bent over the medical bench with your leggings now carelessly tossed across your office, your arousal-soaked panties dragged down to your ankles, and your moans and whines being suppressed by one of toji’s hands covering your kiss bitten lips while he’s plunging in and out of your sopping cunt at an inhumane pace. “ you’re gonna take my cock as a thank you for fixin’ me up — fuuuuuck. “ the lewd squelching coming from between your legs bounced off of the walls as you moaned loudly into his palm, his thick length filling you beyond oblivion. even you were surprised by how he fit inside despite being fucked onto only two of his fingers before hand. “ mmmph ~ “ was the only thing you could manage to sputter out , toji was pounding you so hard. he was fucking you stupid. no coherent words , thoughts, dared to corrode your mind other than pure selfish pleasure that toji was bestowing onto you. “ pussy so fuckin’ tight , she’s pullin’ me in. “ he’d groan , looking down at where your bodies met. soaking in the image of your cunt gripping his cock like a vice. the cute noises escaping from your covered mouth seemed to be having an effect on toji as well. you could feel his grip only tighten and his thrusts become sloppier by the second while the coil in your stomach instantly snapped. you were cumming so hard , harder than any other pathetic ex partner of yours could ever manage. a string of noises left your body as your gummy walls convulsed & pulsated around toji’s throbbing length. “ hah — fuck ! makin’ a mess of you. “ was the last thing toji uttered out before his cock spasmed. toji grunted as his hand left your hip and landed hastily against the flesh of your ass. his seed painted your walls white. the warmth of his load earned a whimper, you could feel it seeping out of your aching heat. toji slowly retracted his hand from your mouth before slowly pulling out , watching your face contort into one of pleasure while his load dribbled down your inner thighs. “ i think i’ll need a check up more often, whaddya say ? “

ׂ⠀〝⠀⠀.. ⠀ ©dauntlessallure 24’ — please do not steal , publish , or post my work elsewhere or credit as your own .ᐟ

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter VIII: Rumours 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: Three months after your show in Oldtown, things seem different. How will you and Aemond navigate this new normality?

Warnings: 18+, self-destructive thoughts, mentions of rehab, therapy and anger management, allusions to smut

Word count: 4500

A/N: What a journey! Thank you so much to everyone that has followed this story, both for the first and second time.

Three months later. 

The tour went on for over two months, finishing with a sold-out show back home in King’s Landing. Thanks to management bringing in some highly skilled people to work on finalising the songs on Rumours, the event doubled as the release day of your second album. 

You sold twice as many records in the first three days as your first album did since its release last year.

Though you’re certain that some of the attention your album’s received is due to the dramatic end of your marriage to Aemond, you’re convinced that fans wouldn’t be buying it if they didn’t enjoy the music. The reviews from major music outlets were raving about the emotional depth throughout the album, another indicator that gossip wasn’t the only selling point of your heartbreaking labour. 

Now, with the holidays closing in, your label has asked you to create some type of extra material to put on a limited edition version of Rumours. 

The members of Dragon Dreamers agreed that adding a bonus track would be the best feature, and decided to meet in the studio to record it in one go; a straight-forward and quick procedure fitting your time restraint. 

You’ve been playing around with a few ideas for new songs, but nothing substantial that feels ready just yet. Lucky for you, Helaena posted in your group chat that she’s been working on a song you could use. 

You’d listened to the demo she shared and the song truly has great potential, being somewhat fast-paced with Helaenas dreamy vocals adding that mellow feel to it only she seems capable of. 

Reaching the studio, you step out of the taxi and thank the driver over your shoulder, pulling the thick, wool fabric of your coat tighter around your trembling body. 

It’s only the last week of November, but winter seems to have come early this year. You hurry to get into the building where the studio is, shaking fingers fidgeting with the key in your cold, inflexible hand, too stiff to obey you and get the thin piece of brass into the keyhole. 

“Allow me”, echoes a voice behind you, and the corners of your lips pull up at the familiar, gentle tone. 

“It’s fucking freezing”, you say light-heartedly and move away from the lock to make space for Aemond, who steps forward, key already in hand.

He unlocks the door swiftly, giving you a pointed look while pushing the heavy door open with one hand. It’s his idea of banter; meeting your eyes with that cheeky glint dancing in his eyes, amusement hiding in his lips where the faintest promise of a smile forms. 

“Thank you” 

You walk past him into the hallway leading to the studio and he follows behind you, mumbling a quiet, 

“Anytime”

After the show in Oldtown, your and Aemond’s relationship has improved immensely. Agreeing that whatever happens, the band comes first, proves to be a good way for the both of you to stay on track. 

Being on the road and performing several times a week is draining, stressful, and overall rough. But in the strain, it’s provided you with some peace of mind, forced to put all your focus on work instead of dwelling on the past.

On everything that’s happened between the two of you.

Besides, Aemond’s put in effort to be civil as well, even bordering on being friendly at times, asking you if you’d like anything from the coffee shop before he went to grab an espresso. A clear sign of trying that you appreciate, no matter how small. 

Besides, it’s not like he even needs to ask. He knows perfectly well what you like. 

But this feels better; feigning ignorance. 

Not still acting like a married couple. 

Perhaps his change was not entirely due to what occurred in Oldtown. Helaena had let it slip one day over lunch that he’d started seeing a therapist, while also attending an anger management program online. 

You’re happy for him, truly. 

It shows on his demeanour that he’s doing better; that he knows how to handle situations better. He seems more in tune with his inner self as well, more in control of it. You’re glad to see him improving, and yet there’s a small part of you that still mourns the broken bond between the two of you. 

That part feels resentful, annoyed with the fact that he couldn’t have done this before your divorce. 

Then you might still be together. 

Helaena’s singing voice grows louder as you move closer to the door of the studio, pushing it open with your stiff, cold hands. 

Jace and Erryk are already seated, listening intently to Helaena’s instructions as she explains how they’re going to record the song. You and Aemond slip in, eyes trained on her, and she offers you a nod in greeting, continuing to discuss her vision of the song,

“The build up has to be captivating! It speeds up towards the outro at the end, which is like the highlight of the song”, she says, hands coming up to put emphasis on her words, 

“That’s what you’d envisioned, right Aemond?”

Her head turns to meet the gaze of her younger brother, waiting for a sign of agreement. He only hums in reply and nods at her, prompting her to continue. 

Has Aemond written this song?

You think back to the demo Helaena sent of her singing and playing piano. 

Isn’t this a love song?

“Finally wrote a song for your girlfriend then?”, Erryk teases as he lowers himself to take a seat behind the drum set. 

A wave of nausea crashes over you without warning. You feel your heart race in your chest, like it’s fighting to get out, and a sickening panic spreads within you. Your hands, that’d just felt so cold and stiff, now feel clammy and tingling with unease. 

You knew this day would come. 

The day Aemond writes a song for Alys. 

You’d mentally prepared for it; convinced yourself that whenever this day came, you’d be okay. It wouldn’t hurt that much, you already know that he’s moved on. 

But Erryk’s question leaves you disoriented, almost dizzy, and you hear the furious beat of your heart in your ears.

Now you have to live with your decision to leave him all those months ago. Allow him to move on and watch him from the sidelines as his colleague. 

Sing along to the declaration of love he’s written for his new lover? 

“Hel and I have been working on this song since last spring”, he dismissively replies, throwing Erryk a look that feels cold, yet his tone stays neutral. 

Since last spring? 

You still feel the heavy weight of anxiety on your chest, but with a few deep breaths, you manage to pull yourself together. 

Just get through this afternoon, then you can go home and dwell in self-pity without spectators. 

The band starts to play, Helaena singing as her fingers dance over the keys of the piano, 

‘Sweet, wonderful you’

‘You make me happy with the things you do’

‘Oh, can it be so?’

‘This feeling follows me wherever I go’

Aside from the demo Helaena sent you a few days ago, you’ve never heard this song before. If Aemond’s been working on it since last spring, does that mean he’s kept it a secret from you?

Maybe he played a rough edit to you before your separation? 

Maybe he and Helaena had reworked it beyond recognition? 

‘I never did believe in miracles’

‘But I’ve a feeling it’s time to try’

‘I never did believe in the ways of magic’

‘But I’m beginning to wonder why’

He’s not usually the type to write love songs. His solo song on your first album, titled ‘I’m so Afraid’, can be described as anything but romantic. 

‘Don’t break the spell’

‘It would be different and you know it will’

But this? Is it the love he receives from Alys that has prompted him to write such an exposing song; causing him to believe in miracles and magic? 

Does she make him feel safe? 

Safer than before? 

‘You make loving fun’

‘And I don’t have to tell you but you’re the only one’

You try to keep your voice stable as you sing along, backing up Helaena’s delicate tone. 

It hurts, hearing how much he doesn’t miss you; how happy he is with her. 

The one that makes loving fun. 

When you were married, all you seemed capable of was making him miserable. 

Loving you wasn’t fun. 

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

‘You make loving fun’

‘It’s all I wanna do’

Some hours go by.

You record a few different versions of the song; playing around with various sounds. 

Every time you sing the words, they stab your heart like a knife, 

‘You make loving fun’

You try to act normal. You try so hard that you can taste copper on your tongue. Thankfully, no one seems to see through your facade. 

Just breathe. 

In. Hold three seconds. Out. Hold three seconds. 

You know that it won’t hurt this much forever. 

One day, you’ll wake up and your lungs won’t ache when you inhale deeply. Your eyes won’t burn from the force in which you're trying to prevent tears from falling. 

Time heals all wounds. 

But yours are still fresh. Leaking and aching. 

All you want to do is go home, throw yourself in bed and cry. 

You crave release, whether it comes from sorrow-induced dehydration, calling Alysanne just to yell out your frustrations, or screaming into a pillow.

When Helaena finally wraps up the recording session, asking you to come back tomorrow after she’s listened through a few of the takes, you hastily grab your bag and move towards the door. 

Just need to get out. 

Away. 

You call out a rushed farewell over your shoulder as you make your way down the corridor of the building, hand coming up to the door handle to step out into the cold November night. 

You brace yourself, ready for the chill air to hit your cheeks as you pull the door open. But before you’re able to leave, a large hand gently grabs your shoulder, keeping you in place, 

“Wait”

Aemond’s voice is low behind you. 

You inhale a deep, shaky breath before you turn around to face him. 

“Yes, Aemond?”

Your voice is purposefully flat, and you’re doing your absolute best to not let the hurt you feel reflect on your tone. 

“I wanted to talk to you”, he begins, tongue coming out to lick his lips. He’s apprehensive in a way that makes his voice sound foreign, like he’s not himself. 

“Did you like it? The song?”

Your gaze flickers down at his question, a reflex-like response so you don’t roll your eyes at him. He sure makes it difficult to be the bigger person. 

Set on tormenting you. 

“Yes”

You bite out the reply, laced with innate irritation you can’t conceal. 

Yes, it’s a good song, you can’t deny that. But seeking you out to have you admit that the song he wrote for his new partner is good Is a new low. 

And to think you thought he’d finally changed for the better. 

Aemond’s good eye roams your face, seemingly searching for something. An answer hidden in your features. 

He licks his lips again, as if he’s looking for what to say, 

“You do, you know”

His eye still flickering around without meeting yours, and his restless demeanour makes you nervous too. 

“I do what?”, you ask, irritation now clear in your curt tone. 

“Make loving fun”, he answers. 

The shock of his sudden confession renders you speechless, and Aemond takes the opportunity to pull you out of the building and into the dark night. 

The heavy door to the studio closes with a loud thud, and left are you and Aemond, alone in the freezing, dark November night. 

“I wanted to surprise you with the song on our wedding anniversary in June, but obviously..”, his voice dies out. 

Still lost for words, you’re sure you look ridiculous, mouth agape and eyes wide. 

Aemond carefully takes in your reaction and takes a deep breath himself, 

“I’ve thought about our relationship recently. A lot”, he says, eyes flickering down to your trembling hands.

Are they shaking from the cold? 

He takes your hands in his warm grip, encapsulating their entirety, 

“I didn’t treat you right-”

“I, I just-, I loved you so fucking much, I-, I didn’t know how to handle loving you so fiercely. I still do”

He has that sad look in his eye that you’ve grown familiar with; the sorrow that he’s made a habit of keeping from you. 

Now, it’s on full display as he offers you himself again, 

“Please take me back”, he quietly begs, body moving forward, face coming down so he can rest his cheek on your head, hands still holding yours tightly. 

You feel lost for words, stiffly staying in place as you hear Aemond inhale deeply through his nose buried in your hair. 

“Aemond”, you sigh, tone thick and unsteady, 

“I thought we’d agreed to move forward as bandmates”

“I’ve missed you so much”, he mumbles in reply, unmoving as he rests his head on yours. 

“You’re with Alys now”, you breathe out, disbelief making it hard for you to sort out your thoughts.

“I haven’t seen her since Winterfell”, he replies.

“Aem-”, you try to oppose but he cuts you off,

“I’m sorry for ruining everything. I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. I’m sorry for being selfish”, he confesses quietly, whispering his sins into your hair. 

Aemond moves to let go of your hands, and instead brings his arms around your shoulders to hug you. 

His voice is still low, mouth right next to your ear, 

“I took your love for granted. I couldn’t imagine a world where we weren’t together”, he admits and presses your body against his, 

“And now I regret how I treated you every day. I know my actions are inexcusable, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need-”, his voice breaks, 

“I need you”

Being in his embrace, so full of the love you’ve been missing for months, causes your lids to feel heavy, and you close your eyes and rest your cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. 

He still smells the same. 

The most comforting, warming scent in the world. 

It would be so easy to take him back.

It is so tempting. 

You gently pull away to look up at him, eyes locking with his, 

“Aemond, you know you weren’t happy being with me” 

“I’m going to therapy, I’m trying to be better”, he says quietly. His eyes are glassy when he adds, 

“For you”

You swallow the lump lodged in your throat. 

“That’s great, Aemond, and I’m so proud of you”, 

“But I don’t think getting back together would be good for either of us”, you conclude, gaze carefully gauging his expression, anxiously awaiting his reaction. 

The inevitable fire. 

His eyes narrow, face setting in harsh displeasure. 

You notice the corners of his mouth twitch downwards as he stares at you in silence, nostrils flaring with each breath. 

His warmth disappears as he steps away from you. 

He quickly shifts to the side to avoid your eyes, and leaves without another word.

You do all three things when you get home. 

You cry, you scream into a pillow, and you call Alysanne to yell out your frustrations. 

Nothing helps.

Why did he have to do this now? 

Why couldn’t he have done this when you were still together? 

The wound of your marriage opens up again, sending icy waves of pain through your body. 

This was supposed to be the part when things got better; when time had healed the wounds.

And yet, you’re still hurting just as much. 

A gash that refuses to stop bleeding. 

In the depths of your despair, you see your phone light up with a notification through the veil of tears obstructing your vision. 

You bring one of your hands up to half-heartedly wipe away the tears that spill out as the other grabs the phone to see who’s texted. 

Aemond: “I’m sorry for earlier tonight. If you want to remain friends, I would appreciate that”

For the second time tonight, his unpredictability astonishes you. 

Where’s the anger? 

You’re unmoving, hand holding your phone in a cramp-like grip as it lights up again. 

Aemond: “It’ll be entirely on your conditions”

You inhale, closing your eyes as you ponder your reply. 

Exhaling slowly, you open your eyes again to type out your answer.

You: “Okay”

Like most things, though it seemed absurd in the beginning, being friends with Aemond has become a normality. 

It started slowly, not going further than the two of you chatting during band practice. 

Then, you started going out to grab coffee together, airly discussing the band, upcoming shows, and what music you’d been listening to recently. 

As weeks pass by, your newfound familiarity blooms into a friendship. 

You start taking more liberties around each other, without constantly being on edge. 

Things like Aemond asks you if you’d like to go see a film by an up-and-coming director, you asking him if he’d like to grab food on the way home from the studio together. 

Your marriage, as tumultuous and heartbreaking as it had been, seems a distant memory now. The ashes from what once was have provided soil for the two of you to build a new, healthy friendship on. You feel thankful for that.

Thankful to still have Aemond in your life.

Being friends suits him. 

He’s opened up far more in these past few weeks to you than he had during the entirety of your futile relationship. 

He acredits it to the therapy and anger management he’d done, but you sense a real shift within him. 

He tells you about Alys; how he met her and how they developed a kind of friends with benefits dynamic as he longed for intimacy and she became his manager. 

Though you can vividly remember him calling her his ‘girlfriend’, he apparently hadn’t made that clear with her, and when he asked her to come on tour with him, a childish attempt at making you jealous, you presume, she’d patted him on the cheek and explained that though he’d been a fun fuck, she didn’t have time for a partner. 

He says that in retrospect, her not having any romantic feelings for him must’ve been a blessing, since he was only using her for selfish fulfilment himself. 

He tells you about Aegon; how they hadn’t spoken all summer, until Aemond reached out to properly apologise, a crucial part of the anger management program. 

Aegon, inspired by Aemond’s dedication to sort out his inner demons, had decided on a fourth trip to rehab. By now, he’s stayed sober for longer than ever before.

Aemond says that he’s made a habit of bringing his brother out hiking, trekking the vast landscape of the Reach. 

Sometimes during those long walks, they’d talk over each other, engaging in passionate discussion about everything and anything. Other times, they walk in comfortable silence, simply existing together. 

It’s nice seeing your ex husband so content. 

The bitterness you first felt at his dilatory introspection has been replaced by admiration; impressed by his dedication to be better. 

Somewhere inside, the wound of the past bleeds less and less. 

Perhaps this is how you were always meant to be? 

Friends. 

The realisation is bitter, but you’ve grown used to the taste on your tongue. 

You made the right decision. 

It’s almost midwinter when Aemond asks you to come over to your old flat one Sunday morning. 

Apparently he’s in the process of subletting the place, and needs help removing any personal belongings. 

It’s strange being back, already foreign and distant, yet still so familiar. 

“I’ve put some of your stuff in the guest bedroom”

Aemond gestures for you to follow him as you step inside. 

Like you don’t know where it is.

You follow him, watching as he opens the wardrobe, stepping to the side to invite you in. 

True to his perfectionist nature, your things are neatly organised, hanging in tidy rows. 

Some of your clothes, two coats, a vase you’d gotten from Alicent on your birthday, a jewellery box. Mostly gifts you received from Aemond, too painful for you to bring with you when you left all those months ago.

Maybe now you’re finally ready to look at the relics of your broken marriage with fondness, reminiscent of the love you once shared. 

As you inspect the wardrobe, you notice an old box tucked in one corner, edges worn down and structure almost caving in. 

You pick it up and open the lid, surprised to find the picture collage you’d made for him on your six month anniversary inside, along with a few other memorabilia from your relationship.

Two tickets to the cinema, a pub receipt, an ugly doodle of Aemond you drew as a joke. 

“What’s this?”, you ask as your hands rummage through the content of the box.

Aemond looks up from the moving box he’d been hunched in front of, eyes going wide when he sees what’s in your hand. 

“You can just put that back”, he quickly replies, face growing a bit pink. 

“I can just move this to the trash as well”, you say and shift towards the big, black bin bag in the corner. 

“That’s alright. I-, I want to keep it”, he mumbles quietly and stands up, towering over you as he takes the box from your hands. 

Your eyes dart from the frame with the pictures you’d made for him to his face, not quite sure why he wants to keep such trivial things. 

“I want to keep the memories” 

He puts the lid back on the box, bends down to place it on the floor, and pushes it towards the back of the closet using his foot. 

There’s something in the air that causes the mood to shift. It’s like a thick fog has settled over the room, sticking in your lungs whenever you breathe. 

“The good old days”, you joke stiffly, trying to chase the uncomfortable tension away. 

Aemond’s standing with his back against you, facing the closet. He hums in reply at your attempted humour. 

“Everything was so easy back then”, you sigh, moving to grab one of the coats hanging next to where he stands. 

He’s stiff as he turns to you, watching as you carefully examine the coat, pondering whether you should keep it or not. 

“I-”, Aemond starts before he stops himself, appearing to be lost in thought,

“I’d try every day to make it easy for you. To love me, I mean” 

Your head snaps to the side. His confession hits you with such force, it’s almost physical, and now it’s your turn to be lost for words. 

“Oh, Aemond”, you choke out as you take in the sad frown his face is set in,

“It was never hard loving you. It was hard being loved by you”

“I know”

One of his hands moves carefully towards you. When you don’t back away from him, he takes the opportunity to place it on your cheek. 

You can feel the way his hand trembles against your skin despite how gentle his touch is.  

“I can’t promise that it’ll always be easy. But I still love you as much as I did back then. I know I shouldn’t but I need to-” he licks his lips as he’s searching for the right words, 

“I need to ask you again. Will you take me back?”

His stare is intense as he carefully evaluates your reaction. You still can’t find your voice, stuck in your throat in shock. 

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I don’t want anyone-, anything else. I’ll do anything for you. Please take me back”, he begs, voice cracking at the end of his plea. 

The hand he’s placed on your cheek feels like it’s burning an imprint onto your skin. 

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

So open; heart on display, laid out in the hand he’s now offering you.

It’s all yours. 

He hurt you so much during your time together. 

He made life so hard for you. 

He made you feel alive. 

Would it be worth it; possibly being hurt again?

Feeling alive again. 

You bring your hand up to his cheek, mirroring how he’s cradling your face. 

Alive. 

Aemond’s POV

When she tilts her head up, leans forward and pulls his face closer to hers, he almost lets out a relieved cry. 

Kissing her again feels like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. 

It’s so relieving it hurts. 

Even when he has to leave her lips to breathe, he presses his face against hers, desperate for the contact. 

He can’t be apart from her warmth for even a second longer. 

Her arms meet around his neck, keeping him close as her breath heats up the skin of his face. 

He’s robbed himself of this for months. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself for that. for allowing her to slip away. 

He searches for her mouth again, kissing her as if she could breathe life into his lungs and revive his numb heart. 

His hands can’t decide if they want to touch every part of her being, or hold her so close they melt into one. 

She presses herself against him, kissing him back with just as much vigour. 

The thought that she’s missed him makes him want to weep. 

“I love you”, he says between pants as he moves his lips from hers, trailing down to kiss her neck. 

Her hands grab the back of his shirt and she lets out a moan when his lips find the patch right beneath her ear she loves so much. 

She pulls him downwards, onto the floor, and offers him a giggle as she straddles him. 

Her fingers come down to help him unbutton his trousers, just as eager for him as he is for her. 

He feels tears burn behind his eyelids again. 

Finally. 

He can hardly contain himself as his fingers clumsily search for the buttons of his jeans to aid her in getting them off. He is so impatient, so eager for her, that his hands shake from desire. 

His soul is finally soothed when she sinks down on him. 

He’s consumed by her. 

When she begins to move, the grip of her cunt around him indicates that this won’t last long. But that’s alright. It won’t be the last time. 

He surges forward to kiss her again, to let her know how grateful he is. 

That she came back to him. 

That she’s offered him her warmth once again. 

Fin.

A/N: Thank you for reading! ❤️

A very special thank you(!) to Justine @theoneeyedprince who've helped me by beta-ing this fic. You are truly a gem, so wonderfully supportive of me and I appreciate you so, so very much. Besides being an absolute legend of a friend, Justine's also an immensely talented writer. If you're eager to read more modern heartbreak, check out her story Careless Whisper - it's so good! ❤️