#should i even do a live reaction for this chap?

[penultimate-step]

i keep thinking the new chapters will come out thursdays and get blindsided when people start talking about them on wednesday. time zones, why do you make me suffer so?

[vagabond-umlaut]

you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[anjelicawrites]

Fun to be had

Paring: Michael Gavey x reader

Synopsis: you’re studying alone on a Friday night, and decide to, finally, face the weird guy following you. Fun ensues.

Warnings: dry humping in public (in a library), almost getting caught, kissing, biting, scratching, Michael’s accidental stalkerish behaviour.

A/N: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used.

It’s Friday night and you should be out, getting drunk at the pub or dancing your arse off at the club, instead, you are at the library, different editions of the same poem opened in front of your face, not because you are cramming for a paper, but because you don’t feel like having to deal with people, irritated as you are with life now.

You have those days where you don’t feel like being sociable, instead, you have this need to live through the words of others, pouring over different editions of the same work, until you are satisfied with the results of your own translation. This specific Friday is one of those days, and you are elated that the library is empty, or almost.

You are not truly alone, hidden in this corner because, sitting at the other table of this little nook, there’s a guy.

You are almost positive his name is Michael, Michael something, mathematical genius and nerd at the end of the social hierarchy. The guy who has been following you, changing his sitting place every single time you did in the past few weeks.

You didn’t see it at the start, with the library always packed you started sitting wherever you could find a free spot and thought nothing when he did the same, you didn’t even noticed him!

You realized when you started studying late in the evening.

With the library half empty, this Michael guy could have picked any spot, every single time, instead he kept sitting at a table next to yours, always with a good vantage point. Yet, you kept telling yourself that maybe he just didn’t want to sit somewhere alone in a place which becomes creepy at night time, nothing to truly see here, but, but… If you have to be blunt about it, he doesn’t give you the idea of a chap who is afraid of being alone; if he is who you think he is, then having no friends it’s his norm.

You could have left it at that, forget about the whole thing, but you are curious, far more than what’s healthy for you, so you concocted a plan, quite stupid really, to gauge his reaction. You partner in crime, albeit without knowing it, had been you friend Ellie, who was studying for a chemistry exam, quite complicated and hard to pass. One night you two were studying and she was getting more and more frustrated, you decided to act.

“So.” You asked her. “What do you think about science?”

“Fuck science!” Right on cue she gives you the answer you need.

Staring in the direction of Michael you said loud and clear.

“Yeah, fuck science indeed” right the second he was looking at you.

It might have been a random coincidence, but he became bolder after your little experiment, his eyes not leaving yours whenever you stared up from the books and even changing tables, whenever a spot nearer yours was freed, and he was already sitting somewhere else, as if he wanted you to know what he was doing.

But what was that he was hoping to achieve by acting like a stalker?

You lift your head and there he is, seemingly engrossed in his own work, glasses low on his long nose and the irritation you’ve felt all day spikes up, red and warm in your belly and you know you shouldn’t do a single thing, but pack your stuff and go back to your dorm, you know you should, yet you stare at him again and he’s looking at you, unabashedly, with that pretentious smile on his face and you throw all your good intentions out of the window.

You stand up, the old chair scraping on the floor and march towards him. He looks startled and huffs in surprise when you straddle his legs and pop his thick glasses up his head.

“I think it’s time we greet one another properly, don’t you think? You’ve been following me around, after all!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

In his panic he tries to slide you off himself, but your ground yourself against his body, your hands grabbing the backrest of his chair, forgetting that you are wearing a skirt tonight.

“Care to tell me why you’re acting like a stalker?”

“I’m not a stalker!” He seems to have managed to grasp control back, the mask of surprise gone from his face. “Get off me!”

“I will, when you’ll tell me the truth!”

Michael had noticed you during a sunny afternoon in the library.

He was slaving over some physics homework, more boring than hard for him and he had let his eyes wander, just to distract himself for a moment.

You were sitting at his same table, facing him and a bit on his right side; you had a fortress of books around you and were furiously taking notes, that’s what had made him stop his gaze: how hard you were studying.

Michael knows many people come to the library as a mean to see and be seen by their peer, others truly try to work and can’t hold their focus for too long you, on the other end, didn’t look like the kind of person who would truly work their arse off so early in the semester, yet there you were, making use of the ridiculous amount of colorful post – it notes in your possession. He had snickered when noticing the animal themed stationery you were using and but hey! You shouldn't judge the book from his cover, right?

Almost absentmindedly, he had started looking for you, when at the library, just to see if he was right in his early observation, and you kept surprising him with the way you would single – mindedly concentrate on your work.

One afternoon, it was very late and most people were already gone, he had taken a peak at your notes, while you were looking for another book, curious to know what you were studying with such a passion and discovered it had to do with linguistics. He had no idea what your coursework talked about, but a quick look at your scrambled handwriting, revealed him a smart mind. This was his tipping point, when he had decided that he wanted to get to know you, if only he had the slightest idea how to!

He had never thought that, casually, sitting nearby you would have been stalkerish, it’s just that he doesn’t know how to start a conversation with you, he’s not that kind of guy! If you were in one of his courses, he would have found a way to get to know you better, but you don’t, and you pay your fellow students no mind, when you are at the library. What’s a guy to do but keep an eye on you, waiting for the right moment to act?

After the whole ‘Fuck science’ shenanigans, he had thought you must have caught wind of what he was doing and maybe you would have started something yourself, but you didn’t. Until tonight.

You realize how embarrassing your position is, when his hands fly on your hips to still your movements, and you register his hardening cock against your wet pussy (and when did that happen?)

“Are you done?” He asks, piercing eyes fixated on yours. “I’m Michael, since you wanted to greet me properly. What’s your name?”

You stare at him dumbly. What have you just done?

His hands curl on the meat of your hips and you yelp in surprise. You need to abort this mission, immediately, but now he’s the one who’s not letting you go.

“So?” He says mockingly. “You were in such a hurry to invade my space, and now you’re acting shy?”

He is well aware of how ridiculous the whole setup is, that he should let go, but you are staring at him with wide, surprised eyes, that he can’t help himself and see how far you’ll let him go.

“Talking big from the guy who’s been stalking me for weeks!”

You’re desperately trying to find your footing again; what the hell were you thinking?

“I wasn’t stalking you! You’re truly hard to know!”

“What?”

You need to check your bearings for a second: when did you fall in a Beckett play?

“I just said that you are hard to know.”

“And you thought that… whatever that was, was an actual good idea? Aren’t you supposed to be the smart guy?”

“You are acting dumb yourself, love, straddling your supposed stalker like that!”

The whole situation is so surreal, that the two of you stare at one another, and start laughing, until you are both breathless, and your faces are incredibly close.

He is pretty, extremely so, long eyelashes and high cheekbones, a beautiful, kissable mouth when it’s not curled in his signature, mocking smile. His eyes are slightly unfocused, the brilliant blue losing against the expanding pupil. And he is so warm, his hands on your hips clench and unclench, following the fast rhythm of his breathing.

You hadn’t realize how handsome he is and now he is taking your breath away.

He licks his dry lips and you can’t help but follow the motion, imagining how his tongue would feel against your cunt. Without you even noticing, your hips start moving again against the rough material of his jeans, your lips hovering over his, his hands pushing your closer against his hard cock, you two moan, lips almost touching and he decides to take the matter in his own hands.

Grabbing your nape, he pulls your face towards his, tongue entering your parted mouth without asking for permission, seeking your clumsily, and you let him take the wheel.

He’s desperate in the way he is kissing you, no finesse or control, just his mouth slanted against yours, his tongue fucking your throat and his hands in your hair to keep you where he wants you. You’ve been kissed better, but never with such a passion and need. You can barely breath, your body crushed against his, and you don’t care.

You are both breathless when your lips part, a thin line of spit connecting the two of you.

“Please, tell me you have a condom.” You beg, your forehead finding home against his.

“I don’t. I’ve never -”

The embarrassment in his voice stops you.

Oh Christ on a bike, you think, oh fuck. This, you didn’t expect. Not that you’re an expert yourself, only having a past relationship to account for, but your ex hadn’t been a virgin, you were.

“I’m sorry.” You say, trying to dismount, to no avail, his hands are like manacles on your hips.

“Stay.”

The way he says it, he’s not begging you, he’s telling you what to do and you feel it in your cunt, molten heath growing there, expanding in your tummy, turning your legs into jelly.

“I’m not going to have unprotected sex.”

Michael cocks his head to the side, his eyes dark with need.

Never, not even in his wildest dreams, he had imagined to find himself in this position. If he’s not going to have sex with you, and he will not without a condom, he’s not stupid, he still wants to quench the thirst he sees in your eyes and feels in his own loins.

“Me neither.” He pushes you downward against his painfully hard cock, the friction delicious and cruel.

You hide a moan against his neck, your lips landing where his pulse is, sucking the sweaty skin with desperation. You start canting your hips again against the rough material of his jeans, his hands helping you find the right angle against his erection, pain and pleasure take possession of your body, your lips desperate on his, your teeth biting his lower lip and he forces you even tighter against his crotch and it hurts, the pleasure burns your skin when he grinds your hips, your clit feeling the brunt of his punishment even through the layers your are wearing. Your hands grab his hair and his hide under your skirt, his long fingers grabbing your ass, squeezing hard, nails catching in worn fabric: he needs you, needs to become one with you.

He whimpers when you bite his shoulder through his sweater, one hand finds its way under your jumper and rakes down your back, you whimper, so close, so close.

Your orgasm shatters you, your teeth biting Michael’s shoulder harder and deeper as he keeps rutting against you; you want to tell him it’s too much but he’s making delicious sounds, half strangled moans of pleasure that inflame your body again, a smaller orgasm hitting you when he comes, his face hidden against your neck.

“Is anyone there?”

The haziness of pleasure is broken the second you hear footsteps heading in your direction, and panic follows.

Mrs Daniels, the librarian pokes her head in the small alcove at the far end of the library.

“Sorry to interrupt you.” She says. “Did you hear strange sounds just now?”

The two students stare owlishly at her: poor kids must be studying their arses off. They look like they’ve just ran a marathon, hair sticking at weird angles, and the boy’s cheeks are apple red. Youngsters these days!

“No. We were having a chat, a little break.” Says the one behind a huge row of books.

“Yeah, we were just chatting.” Adds the one she thinks is named Michael, with a smile she can’t truly decipher.

“Oh well, I must have been mistaken then, there’s only the two of you around at this point. Goodnight then.”

The second you two are positive the older woman is far away enough, you two start laughing, barely hiding your guffaws behind your hands.

“Well.” You manage to finally say. “That was close!”

You try not to feel embarrassed when your eyes land on Michael, whose stare is piercing behind his thick glasses.

“Yeah. And I still don’t know your name.”

Heath pools in your lower tummy at the way his voice is low and raspy, desire clear in the way he rakes his eyes down your body.

“You can always come by my dorm and find out.”

Christ, the way Michael’s lips curve, tells you he’s going to discover more than your name tonight.

Everythig taglist: @hightowhxre

[bettysupremacy]

What do you think of Mike with a low key rich babysitter reader, and she's like so nice so she pays his bills cause she knows he's struggling and buys him food?

I think that’s a gorgeous idea & I’m sorry I posted it 5 months later 🎀

You dance around his living room, picking up crayons and stuffed animals. Typical night for you. There’s a bottle of milk stuffed under your arm, slowly leaking onto the carpet before you notice it.

“Shit,” you hush, rearranging your grip.

You hadn’t spoken to Mike since last night when he’d dropped off $20, then kissed you and fled feeling like an idiot when you’d stood there shocked. But you’d come over today without calling and he couldn’t have been more grateful. Selfishly, he’d been concerned about finding a babysitter as lenient about pay as you.

“Y/n.”

“Shit,” You flinch, dropping the teddy bear known as Freddy, and the milk.

“I pay for a babysitter, not a housemaid.”

He doesn’t even really pay for you. ‘Cept for $20 when he can afford it. You don’t want him to either. He needs a babysitter, you need to get out of the house, it’s a good deal.

“Sorry.” You’re not, and he knows you’re not, but he lets it slide.

“I don’t need charity.” He drops his keys onto the table and stalks into the kitchen. “don’t need it.”

“You’re not charity.” You mumble, digging the toe of your shoe into the carpet embarrassed.

He opens the fridge loudly, pausing, the full fridge foreign to him. You’re done for. He’d told you no more shopping. No more pitying him, no more paying his light bill, no more grocery shopping. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Mike?” You try to sound chipper.

“What did I just say?”

“You pay for a babysitter not a maid?”

“After that.”

“Um,” you stall, “I’m not really sure, I think I hear Abby crying, maybe I should—“

“I said no charity,” he sighs, closing the door to look back at you. “I don’t need charity.”

“It’s really not charity.” You stumble out, tripping to get off your knees. “I was at the store with Abby earlier cause I was hungry and—“

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“Just not again.”

You sigh. “Kay.”

The silence is almost unbearable. “Hey, um,” he starts “about last night..”

“It’s okay.” You almost rush out. Embarrassed, you scratch your neck. “I mean, it was okay with me.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t know where to start.

“Yeah,” you nod, dusting off your jeans. “so if you don’t need me I’ll be out of your way.”

“Wait!” He panics.

You look back, hope gleaming in your pretty eyes. “Yes?”

“It was okay with you?”

“Well,” you nod slowly, unable to look him in the eyes. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, turning his head away. “Yeah, you’d let me do it again?”

“Yeah I’m hoping you’ll do it again.”

He walks over, socked feet making noise against his cheap carpet. Abby’s baby monitor hums softly next you to and vaguely you wonder if you should check on her. Mike doesn’t seem to mind. He grabs your wrist, thumb pushing into your pulse.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “for bothering you.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You don’t bother me.”

He sighs. “With the bills and the money.”

“Oh,” you whisper. “I don’t mind.”

“I know,” his lips turn up a little. “you’re kind. Too kind probably, and you can spend your money on whatever you like, but don’t splurge on me.”

“It’s not splurging,” you reassure. “I’m helping a friend.”

He grimaces, closing his eyes and sighing through his nose. You’re unsure which part of your sentence cause this reaction. Helping or friend.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks softly, looking up at you.

You nod, grabbing his own wrist, pulling him closer. He shakes his head at your movement.

“Words.”

It’s funny, his actions reminds you of how you are with Abby. “Can I help you with this?” And “Use your words please.”

“Yes,” you breathe out. “yeah, please.”

He nods, dipping down to kiss you slowly. Yeah, his lips are a little chapped, but it’s soft, like he’s scared of breaking you. He pulls you in closer, hand sliding over to the dip in your back. You wrap your arms around him, scrunching his tee shirt in your warm fists.

He pulls back, panting. “No more charity, okay?”

[bts5sosempire]

the tyrant (i)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4,089

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: arrange marriage, slow-burn yandere, polygamous marriage (cuz this is set in the old time, so yeah), mention of infertility, power imbalance, will get dark and unhinged in the next chap., etc.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna's eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you."

𝐚/𝐧: always new and unfinished content I be spewing out in my WIP drafts. It's endless. I really am one of those writers that would go away and just come back to drop something then go away again 🙃. Some of things I type out, I did some research on it and the rest are not. Almost forgot that I got inspired by a show I watched so some parts got me rapidly writing it.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"What do you mean she's not able to conceive?" Sukuna asks, his trained eyes sharpening on the doctor, who notices his reaction and yelp in fear as they immediately bow forward with their forehead and hands touching the floor.

"P-Please pardon my incompetent!" They spoke out, voices shaking. "I have diagnosed Lady (Name) and found out that her pulse is too weak, her body temperature is low, and her estrogen level is also low..." The doctor wanted to say more, but their lips was sealed shut and Sukuna, whose unwavering gaze lingered on them, waited for them to continue with an irritated expression.

Sukuna: "Why aren't you continuing?"

The doctor once again jolted in their spot, "I fear this will affect her fertility rate!"

Sukuna: "You should've said so."

"My Lord?" They picked up their head and thought that Sukuna couldn't get anymore scarier than before, but they were wrong. The expression Sukuna wore was far more than dangerous; his eyes suddenly glazed over in vehement anger and burning rage. The doctor knew it wasn't directed toward them, but still, they couldn't help but feel a pit in their stomach.

Sukuna then used a hand to shoo them away, "Find a solution. Fast. I'll call you for progress." The doctor didn't need Sukuna to tell him if he failed; he knew what it meant if he could not live up to the expectation. His life. The doctor bid a farewell greeting and flew out of the Lord's room faster than any bird.

Outside the door, the doctor bumped into Lady Eisha, holding a tea tray. She gives the doctor a polite smile before entering the room, "Husband?" Sukuna, rubbing his face, opened his strawberry eyes and saw his principal wife. Eisha is a doll with porcelain skin and demure features; she was cladded in the finest and most expensive silks and jewelry that could feed a whole village for a year. Even though she wasn't initially Sukuna's first choice to be the principal wife, it was you; his mother insisted that Eisha should be the one since she was from a notable family. But so were you. Sukuna wanted clarification from his mother regarding her great dislike towards you being the primary wife, but all it did was ignite her wrath. Therefore, his mother never answers him, and it displeases him greatly. To take you as his second wife and, in ranking too. He isn't going to give you anything less; he knows how to piss off his mother; Sukuna could follow her wish, doesn't mean he isn't going to fulfill it.

"Is there anything that distresses you?" Sukuna didn't answer her. Instead, he was still in his damper mood and mauling over what he had just heard today. Eisha focused on her husband and the tea she had set on the ground. She delicately pours Sukuna a cup, then inches closer to present him with the tea with a soft smile. Sukuna accepts the cup without as much as looking at Eisha. Sukuna brought the cup to his lips, testing the temperature and smelling the scented aroma of matcha.

Eisha could feel her smile drop a little. Sukuna never looked her way despite being married for five years; the only time he would look at her was when they were to consummate and fulfill their duty as husband and wife to produce an heir. So far, Eisha has given him a daughter only, and all the other five concubines have given him a child each or two along the way. While one or two of them were on their second or third pregnancy, there was you, who remained childless all these years. Despite being the second wife after Eisha, you were still the secret mockery within the harem. With no child, you were to remain powerless against the rest of the harem and Eisha. However, you shouldn't be underestimated from her point of view; Eisha couldn't help but feel the vying affection she had wanted for so long from Sukuna, only to be delivered towards you. With you holding the heart of Sukuna, everyone was to remain careful about how they spoke of you. If one lousy word slipped from someone's mouth and reached Sukuna's ear, they would incur his deadly animosity.

She doesn't know what Sukuna could see in you; you were a harlot vixen who never once appreciated an ounce of Sukuna's admiration whenever it was presented. All you did was throw it back at his face; your cold disposition and indifference were a crime in her mind.

"Mistress?" Your maid, Yumi, calls out to you in worry, her voice in a hushed whisper as she looks out at the door warily to see any obscuring shadows of people lurking outside. "How do you think the Lord would take about your news?"

While you remain calm, you settle down your needlework onto your lap and look ahead of you with an annoyed expression. "It's not my problem; no child means no ties to that man." You were so nonchalant about your situation that Yumi put her hands on your forearm and gripped it, but not strong enough to hurt you. "Still..." Yumi starts; she knows how much you dislike Sukuna but wouldn't speak it out loud for your safety. You set your embroidery aside and re-situated yourself in your seating position. Patting her hands with your free hand, you try to reassure Yumi for her sake. "Yumi, you worry too much about me that you haven't been sitting still for the last hour." Disarming her with a smile, you decided to switch topics with a pacifist voice, "So, how is the situation with Lord Itadori?"

At the mention of Yuji, you see how her expression change from worry to realization. Yumi's hands fly off your forearm immediately, and she plucks out a letter from her inner attire and hands it to you with two hands. You take the letter from her and unfold the content, eyes reading the words.

Yuji was Sukuna's younger half-brother, who was fifteen years old, compared to Sukuna, who was twenty-seven. When you put them together or side by side, there wasn't much of a difference in their appearances; if you could point out, Yuji would be the replica of Sukuna, but he is someone who has softer features and heart, unlike his sharper and cold-hearted older brother. You would have referred to Yuji's last name as Sukuna, but before the former Lord passed away, Yuji wished to keep his mother's maiden name since she was the only family member left of hers. He is such a filial son; if only he were the same age as his older brother, you would've married him instead in a heartbeat. But in the end, it didn't matter, you treated the young boy as a little brother and sent him a bi-weekly care package, and Yuji treated you as an older sister he never had despite having so many.

"What does the letter say, Mistress?" Yumi asked, peering at the letters that looked like nothing but indescribable chicken scratches.

"I also missed the young master's presence; if he were here, Lord Sukuna wouldn't be hounding you every chance he gets." Yumi mention, and you chuckle. Sukuna hates Yuji, and how you prefer his younger brother. Sukuna had made it known to make off and backhanded comments at Yuji in your being, even with Yuji's naivety to a certain extent; he was sensible enough to understand that his older half-brother didn't like him much. This made you defend the young boy, and in defense, you use the same manner Sukuna did to Yuji in calculated and halcyon quips. You miss the satisfaction of making the man bite his lips in frustration, a part of you wants to relive it again.

"What do you think it says?" You retort the question right back at her, and she sheepishly smiles at you while scratching the back of her head. "I've taught you how to read and write, and the alphabet never stuck to you, did it?" To confirm your suspicion, Yumi made it more evident by messing with the hem of her attire. You want to eye roll at your adorable servant but hold it off with a sigh before giving her a brief explanation. "Yuji said he's doing well at the Gojo's compound; he's also having a nice time and has made friends with the Fushiguro's son and Nobara's daughter. While learning has been difficult for him since I'm not around to help him, Gojo-sensi was nice enough to dumb it down for him." You click your tongue and eye Yumi, "What's with you and Yuji not retaining anything?" Continuing to summarize the letter, you can't help but huff out a little laugh at what you read; Yuji tried to spell something but couldn't as it was retried and crossed out multiple times then he said something different. "He missed eating with me and mentioned that his Sensi wanted to meet me since it's rare for a (Surname) clan girl to be married off. The rest is him rambling about a pretty girl, and that's it."

If you were someone else, he would've had your head skewered at the front of the gate of the Sukuna's estate as a warning for everyone to watch what they say to him.

Folding the letter and putting it back inside the envelope, you check the sun's position, and you see it is nearly noon. "Yumi, prepare my tea for me."

"Is that so?" An older woman raises a brow; she listens intently to what is being told in front of her ears. Eisha, sitting in front of her, telling her the dreading news of you not being able to conceive children from where she overheard the doctor from Sukuna's quarter in the hallway. Sukuna's mother, Hanami, plays it off, "Even if she failed to fulfill her duty as one of his wives, there are still the other concubines here that are avail." Hanami tried to pass it off as it was the will of fate you weren't granted, children.

"Mother, you're right, although I can't help but worry that this might affect his Lordship's health." Eisha expresses, and Hanami hum at her to go on, "He has been waiting for so long to sire a child with her and is filled with news that she couldn't. Thus I wonder if you could help?"

Hanami paused, giving her a look, "Help? Do you want me to help her? Even if I can, I'm unsure how effective I could be." Hanami worded herself to be a saint and fair in front of Eisha, but when it comes to you, she refuses to be in any part of your life. Anything else, it's disgust and hatred she had for you. If you were born from a different clan and not the one associated with your Aunt Iori Setsuko, formally known as (Surname) Setsuko, she would've helped you.

Eisha, who asked the question, wasn't sure what answer she was given, but she still felt a sense of elation; the fact that you were disregarded as useless stroked her ego. Even if she doesn't have Sukuna's affection yet, she has her mother-in-law, her backer, and support.

"By the way, how are you and my son faring? Another child from you would hold the line stable." Hanami didn't notice how Eisha's face turned wry for a second, and within a blink, it disappeared as she presented her mother-in-law with a smile. Eisha didn't need a reminder from Hanami that she needed a boy to hold the line of succession going.

"Ryomen and I are trying for another, but it's not easy as it seems as it was during the first time," Eisha told Hanami, who gasped as a hand flew to her lips worriedly.

Hanami reached across and held Eisha's hands and squeezed them, "We cannot have that; I have some remedies that could help you." Hanami went over to her drawer and pulled out a few bottles. She hands them over to Eisha, who pretends to look astonished, "This is Unkei-to; take a pill daily to help with your blood flow and circulation." Hanami then sat across from Eisha again, "It's to help regulate your body heat and menstruation cycle, also increasing your ovulation too."

After going on a tangent of talking, Eisha excuses herself and lets out a triumphant grin.

Hanami drops the facade of a loving and caring mother; she puts two fingers against her temple and rubs it in pain; she could feel a headache forming. Knowing the news that you weren't able to bear children does strike her heart cords in happiness, but your presence was still a little reminder of why you're here. For as long as Hanami has known Setsuko, your Aunt was a thorn in her side at the starting days of their youth as young teenagers. Hanami was hailed as the fair maiden of Japan until your Aunt Setsuko appeared and took her title and everything. Every woman from the (Surname) Clan was always regarded as having a prestigious and noble birth, a goddess. Rarely were they ever seen or shown to the public; anyone who was to be wedded or engage with the women was married to their family instead of the husband, per upon agreement. The same goes with the men; the (Surname) is very picky on who they union their children with.

The reason why their feud has ensued for so long was because of Sukuna Tsugahara, Hanami's now-late husband. At first, Hanami and Tsugahara were lovers, and until he met Setsuko that he was smitten and was willing to break off the engagement with her. Blinded by anger and resentment every day for it, Setsuko and Tsugahara got closer and closer until it was then they were set to be engaged that Hanami had pulled the rug beneath their feet. Both parties were stunned since Hanami was willing to pull every dirty stunt in her book until she got Tsugahara back into her arms, and she successfully did. She called him back because a night of trysts pretending to be Setsuko and Sukuna Ryomen resulted from it.

To say Setsuko was betrayed, Hanami wished for Setsuko to feel everything she felt.

Hanami had to give that woman a round of applause, though she knew that Setsuko's bitterness would never end and it would burn forever; sending you was uncalled for and a friendly reminder of 'you robbed me, I will do it right back.'

You were almost an uncanny image of your Aunt that Hanami thought she had seen the devil for a second. Even Tsugahara thought you were Setsuko, and he mistakenly called you her name. You have to correct him. More alarming was her only son, Sukuna Ryomen, whose pupils were blown wide from your beauty and disposition that she thought she was reliving her horrible days again. First, it was her husband who was smitten by Setsuko, now her son towards you.

Even if she successfully dissuades her son from taking you as the head wife, it doesn't stop you from being pampered day and night by both men. Tsugahara cherished you as if you were his daughter since he couldn't be with the one he loves, and Sukuna wouldn't leave you alone to breathe; even speaking ill of you is forbidden, which is an unwritten rule anyone should and have to know.

Hanami was disturbed by their behavior relating to you; you were their favorite. Everything you do is perfect in their eyes, and you would be excused and given leniency. She won't know if she should be thankful that you didn't take advantage of her husband and son's adoration, but she's, nevertheless, pissed that you have them wrapped around your fingers!

You seem to adore your father-in-law Tsugahara more than your husband.

"Now, what should I do?" Hanami asks no one in particular but herself. She didn't want to indulge in the past anymore; she didn't care about Eisha; Hanami needed Eisha to give birth to a legitimate son to secure and solidify her position as the wife. After all, she didn't give her those pills for anything; she needs you out of the picture, even if it'll take time.

You thought peace was always an option without Sukuna hovering over you for the last few days, but not today. The feeling of disdain shoots you; the doctor and Sukuna are in your chamber. Yumi was nervously seated behind you, observing the scene, trying not to be as alarmed as possible. She fears Sukuna, but her caring and worried nature for you outweighs what she feels for your husband. Meanwhile, Sukuna was puffing a tobacco pipe by the window, his face resting against his knuckles. He was side-eying the situation. Your bodily functions matter to him that he took mere time off to hear what the doctor had to say.

The doctor diagnosing you took the thin cloth from your wrist after retaking your pulse. Sukuna had insisted that you were not to be touched by anyone but himself since he's your husband, and you were not to be grouped with common filth either. His other women in the harem.

"Well?" Sukuna lingers his gaze on the male, who clears his throat in apprehension.

The doctor shifted a bit in his spot; he had found a new habit since being under the scrutiny eyes of Sukuna. "As the results from before, Lady (Name) has low body heat and chances of conceiving a child. I had brought back a drug that will help improve her vitality over time to help her chance of conceiving." The male went to his medical box and searched for the miracle medicine. After a few seconds, he pulls out a small purple sash. The doctor unties the strings before carefully dumping a small ball of leaves onto their palm the size of a mini rosebud. You could smell the scent of ginger in it, along with many others. "This was specially made for Lady (Name); it's infused and compressed with..." They went on a tangent confabulation in which herbs were gathered from the mountains, and while what was brought from abroad, together, he went with the effects of it.

"Instead of telling me, get started." Sukuna cuts them off with impatient, and the doctor changes course and requests a pot of boiled water. You instructed Yumi to go to the kitchen with a slight nod. You will play along with whatever plan Sukuna has for you.

Yumi returns a quarter later, tray in both hands. She sat and kneeled on the ground, pouring a bowl of hot water into the ceramic. The doctor then proceeded to drop the ball of leaves into the cup as it unraveled openly. The water slowly changes its color until a dark golden hue is presented.

"It's ready," the doctor announces, plucking the leaves out and gesturing for you to pick up the bowl. You took the cup with the slow motion of a lady and brought it up to your nose. Sukuna watches your action; he sees how you peer into the bowl before taking a small sip, there was a slight twitch you showed, and he guessed it was probably bitter. You down the medicine in one go as you tilt it upwards until nothing was left beside a few residues of leaf particles. There was a strong bitterness in your mouth when you set the bowl back on the small table.

Sukuna dumps the rest of the tobacco out the window by tapping it before setting the pipe aside. He gives the doctor and Yumi a look, indicating that they should leave the room. The doctor didn't need to be told twice before he left the room in a rush, and Yumi hastily picks the bowl and put it on the tray before walking out of the room, not before casting you a glance of anxiety.

"Now," Sukuna rose from his seat, and you do the same, trying to cut him off from meeting you halfway. You blatantly wish to be anywhere else but here with him. It was because of orders from Sukuna to have you confined for a few days to find out what happened to you that it disrupted your daily activities to go out in public to help out the misfortunes and events you voluntarily volunteered yourself to escape his clutches. "Are you that eager to get away, love?" You didn't get very far, as it took a few strides to catch up. Sukuna uses a hand to grasp your wrist and pull you to his hard chest while one arm loops itself to your waist, his fingers lovingly playing with the outline of your hip, drumming and tapping. The man lays his chin on your shoulder while the smell of tobacco clings onto him, drafting towards your nose; Sukuna softly inhales your scent, lulling his mind into tranquility as he closes his eyes blissfully.

This made you turn your head subtly to the side to avoid him, but this made Sukuna think this was an invitation to dig his nose more profoundly into the crevice of your neck. A soft rumble could be heard from his throat. "I may confine you to stay within the castle, but that doesn't mean you have to stay in here." Here. What Sukuna had meant what that being on 'house arrest' doesn't mean you make it a habit to stay in your room.

"You didn't specify where to be confined, so I ought to stay somewhere, and here isn't bad at all." Retort with calmness but a subtle jab, Sukuna's hold tightens a bit more, not much to your liking. But it loosens as it comes to, "Your presence is greatly missed in the mess hall." You wanted to snark back that it's highly doubted; with you gone from the dining table, everyone would tell tales full of travesty of you in high and low, not in front of him, but when he's not around. The only person who would miss you was Sukuna himself.

Grabbing Sukuna's wrist, you untangle yourself from his grasp and put space between you. It's getting unbearable; you could only tolerate being in so much of his existence and him touching you. "Lift my temporary ban; then I'll join." You negotiate, and even with your back still turning against him, Sukuna can't help but grant you your wish. "That I can do, and I'm happy to see your face once more among the common ones." Sukuna moves in front of you; he grabs a lock of your hair and kisses it. He drops it before brushing his thick fingers against your tresses and trying to slide them behind your ear. You smack Sukuna's palm away with a tap, not enough to offend him, but enough to turn him away.

Your action amuses him; Sukuna wasn't sure how long you would resist him. Despite being his favorite for five years when he first laid eyes on you during the selection, even if you don't want him now, he will make sure you'll be him for the rest of eternity. He's a very patient man with many crafts underneath his sleeve. "Make sure to be there on time."

"How can I forget you're a punctual man," maintaining the underlying impasse, Sukuna chuckles when you look up to meet his eyes.

Sukuna turned around and exited your chamber; it wasn't until he was out of sight and mind that you inhaled deeply before exhaling that Yumi cane back into the room like a blur. She fretted over you like a mother hen that your social energy was draining fast already. Putting up with Sukuna always makes you mentally tired; keeping the farce up day and night from all angles isn't what you want.

You were only here per request and out of respect to your Aunt Setsuko, who had raised you because of the early passing of your parents. Marrying into the Sukuna family does have its benefits, although it's not what you had initially had in mind. You held back your thoughts when agreeing to be shipped off into an arranged marriage with Sukuna, the only son your Aunt Setsuko was deadset on having you marry before you were even born.

Maybe you should've asked for the reason before agreeing; now it's an endless headache you're dealing with.

[burningvelvet]

moby dick analysis on ahab & starbuck

thinking about how starbuck's father and brother died at sea (chap 26) from whaling and it's mentioned that his brother's limbs were torn apart and it's easily inferrable that he has post-grief PTSD/depression but as a poor nantucketer probably has no other way of earning a living for his wife and young son. so he has to cope with his job despite the traumatic, triggering nature of it. he copss by being the best at his job, by being extraordinarily cautious and careful in all tasks while not compromising his natural strength, and he's adamant at protecting everyone — even those, like ahab, who do not want it.

From the first description of Starbuck, chapter 26:

"Starbuck was no crusader after perils; in him courage was not a sentiment; but a thing simply useful to him, and always at hand upon all mortally practical occasions. Besides, he thought, perhaps, that in this business of whaling, courage was one of the great staple outfits of the ship, like her beef and her bread, and not to be foolishly wasted. Wherefore he had no fancy for lowering for whales after sun-down; nor for persisting in fighting a fish that too much persisted in fighting him. For, thought Starbuck, I am here in this critical ocean to kill whales for my living, and not to be killed by them for theirs; and that hundreds of men had been so killed Starbuck well knew. What doom was his own father’s? Where, in the bottomless deeps, could he find the torn limbs of his brother?

With memories like these in him, and, moreover, given to a certain superstitiousness, as has been said; the courage of this Starbuck which could, nevertheless, still flourish, must indeed have been extreme. But it was not in reasonable nature that a man so organized, and with such terrible experiences and remembrances as he had; it was not in nature that these things should fail in latently engendering an element in him, which, under suitable circumstances, would break out from its confinement, and burn all his courage up. And brave as he might be, it was that sort of bravery chiefly, visible in some intrepid men, which, while generally abiding firm in the conflict with seas, or winds, or whales, or any of the ordinary irrational horrors of the world, yet cannot withstand those more terrific, because more spiritual terrors, which sometimes menace you from the concentrating brow of an enraged and mighty man.

But were the coming narrative to reveal in any instance, the complete abasement of poor Starbuck's fortitude, scarce might I have the heart to write it; for it is a thing most sorrowful, nay shocking, to expose the fall of valour in the soul."

but then starbuck gets stuck as the second-in-command to captain ahab who already nearly died after losing a limb to a whale and also has a wife and young son on nantucket and also has PTSD/depression due to sea/whaling related grief and they have a connection and starbuck is the only person who ahab actually obeys. arguably he empathizes most via his relationship with pip, the only other person he really connects with, but for all his inability to trust or respect anyone, starbuck is the only one he remotely allows to contradict him or comes close to seeing as a worthy of his regard (chaps 109, 130).

but whereas we're told starbuck's trauma makes him more careful & reasonable (chap 26) ahab's trauma makes him more reckless & vengeful (chap 41). but they're both given to superstition because they've both been wracked by fear and tragedy. they both have common sentiments even though they also butt heads not unfrequently.

and we don't get to see starbucks reaction or opinions on ahab denying to help the captain of rachel — a father looking for his two missing sons lost at sea (chap 128) — but it's very interesting that starbuck's own father lost his two sons on the sea, and that starbuck and ahab both note that between the two of them they have two sons which they bond over.

the tragedy of how in chap 132 starbuck seeks to comfort a crying ahab but then has to walk away because ahab clearly won't listen to him — and then how in chap 135 it's starbuck who is crying before ahab and ahab toss starbuck away from him as he leaves him!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahab crying, chap 132:

"From beneath his slouched hat Ahab dropped a tear into the sea; nor did all the Pacific contain such wealth as that one wee drop. Starbuck saw the old man; saw him, how he heavily leaned over the side; and he seemed to hear in his own true heart the measureless sobbing that stole out of the centre of the serenity around. Careful not to touch him, or be noticed by him, he yet drew near to him, and stood there."

Starbuck walking away from Ahab when he realizes Ahab refuses to take responsibility for his actions and instead blames fate for his own destructive behavior (or, that Ahab is really being driven by fate, depending on your interpretation & personal beliefs, & whether you think his is a matter of self-fulfilling prophecy or real prophecy), chap 132:

"'What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is as an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike. [..] —Starbuck!'

But blanched to a corpse’s hue with despair, the Mate had stolen away."

Starbuck crying & pleading toward the very end, chap 135:

"Their hands met; their eyes fastened; Starbuck’s tears the glue.

“Oh, my captain, my captain!—noble heart—go not—go not!—see, it’s a brave man that weeps; how great the agony of the persuasion then!”

“Lower away!”—cried Ahab, tossing the mate’s arm from him. “Stand by the crew!”

In an instant the boat was pulling round close under the stern.

“The sharks! the sharks!” cried a voice from the low cabin-window there; “O master, my master, come back!”

But Ahab heard nothing; for his own voice was high-lifted then; and the boat leaped on."

From the first description of Starbuck, chapter 26:

"Looking into his eyes, you seemed to see there the yet lingering images of those thousand-fold perils he had calmly confronted through life. A staid, steadfast man, whose life for the most part was a telling pantomime of action, and not a tame chapter of sounds."

Starbuck's last words as he tries to save the ship which Ahab left him in charge of, chapter 135:

“The whale, the whale! Up helm, up helm! Oh, all ye sweet powers of air, now hug me close! Let not Starbuck die, if die he must, in a woman’s fainting fit. Up helm, I say—ye fools, the jaw! the jaw! Is this the end of all my bursting prayers? all my life-long fidelities? Oh, Ahab, Ahab, lo, thy work. Steady! helmsman, steady. Nay, nay! Up helm again! He turns to meet us! Oh, his unappeasable brow drives on towards one, whose duty tells him he cannot depart. My God, stand by me now!”

He instructs the men to be steady as he is defined by his own steadfastness, a synonym of loyalty; in other words he is bound by duty, but he nevertheless blames Ahab for making this end his duty. His feelings are strong and he's on the verge of "a woman's fainting fit" but he nevertheless instructs himself to be calm and stoic. He detaches from himself, referring to himself in the third-person, and is resolved to die "if he must." He hates his job, but he does it to the best of his abilities anyway. He hates what his life has become, but he lives it anyway.

And to come back to that one paragraph in chapter 26 wherein we have the first description of Starbuck:

"But were the coming narrative to reveal in any instance, the complete abasement of poor Starbuck's fortitude, scarce might I have the heart to write it; for it is a thing most sorrowful, nay shocking, to expose the fall of valour in the soul."

This seems to leave it ambiguous (but so intentional ambiguous that it admits to a certain level of probability) as to whether or not, as we learn from Starbucks own fears, he actually lost his calm in the end and died in "a woman's fainting fit." Aside from Fedallah and Ahab, the specifics of the sailors deaths aren't really alluded to. The dead crew mates are given a certain level of privacy and respect because Ishmael consciously protects them. To requote his words on Starbuck and show how they may apply to all of the Pequod's crew (but most especially Starbuck, one of the most stoic characters, who thus begged this description):

"But were the coming narrative to reveal in any instance, the complete abasement of [the men of the Pequod's collective] fortitude, scarce might I have the heart to write it; for it is a thing most sorrowful, nay shocking, to expose the fall of valour in the soul."

As an aside, Queequeg isn't given a lot of focus in the end. He isn't given a lot of focus in the middle either, because he and Ishmael sort of grew apart, but I think it's maybe telling of how Queequeg's death may have upset Ishmael too much to even mention it (same with Pip perhaps).

[s-4pphics]

scent of the pine. 4 (e.w)

we back in this shit like we never left y’all 😳

wc;cw 10.7k ohhh not again, sistersbestfriend!ellie, guitarist/producer!ellie, violinist!oc, age gap(three years), all ocs r black coded <3, FLUFF i know shocker, but slight angst bc i’m devious like that🤭, domestic ellie with a cat, some crack :p, SMUT UH OHHH MDNI, dubcon(ellie is high), weed, sexual tension yall already knowww, thigh riding, fingering, eating out no restaurant, mult. orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, one pussy slap, overstim, ellie’s tongue is pierced yes that’s a warning lol, masturbation, more stunna girl promo someone pay me, this is cute tbh lol

“Your girlfriend is living lavish. GYYYAATTT— “ 

“Arya, can you please shut up! She’s not my girlfriend!” 

“No bitch, you needa shut the hell up! I drove you here and I will leave you!” 

You and an irritated Arya (she’s not herself when she’s hungry!) were parked outside of Ellie’s very… expensive looking apartment building. It looked like there were about thirty floors to it with lots of windows. You knew she had accumulated a following due to the reaction people had to her on New Year’s Eve, but you weren’t expecting her to be living like an actual celebrity. She was fucking rich, now. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

Arya must’ve noticed the nervous, intimidated look on your face as you gazed at the building because you immediately felt a soft hand on yours. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine. She seems more than willing to talk and apologize! I’m gonna be here the whole time and you come down when you’re ready, okay?” 

You looked over to your best friend—the light of your life—and nodded. You’ve never been so appreciative of someone before. She made you feel so calm—

“With that being said, just know if she says anything outta line, I’m telling your sister and we’re jumpin’ her ass, no question!” she said seriously before encouragingly slapping your thigh. “Go ‘head, love you.” 

“…Love you more.” She made you feel calm enough.

Your friends are so…. supportive!

You exited Arya’s car as you waved to her, her giving you two thumbs up in return. 

Here goes nothing. 

You took in the building as you entered…. this was some Michelin star shit! 

Marble floors, white walls edged with gold frames, women wrapped in trench coats with puppies in their purses! What the fuck is going on—

You were even starting to second guess your attire. You wore a simple black puffer, hoodie, and sweatpants. Should you have dressed… better? More presentable? You were starting to get a bit insecure. 

You pulled your phone out to distract yourself from second-guessing your appearance (or lack thereof!) and opened your texts with Ellie. You started typing. 

hey. i’m downstairs. 

You immediately saw her chat bubble pop up before her reply came through. 

cool i’ll be down in 2 mins 

You sighed a heavy sigh as you shut your phone off. Don’t overthink, you thought. You’re here to talk and that’s it! Nothing more, nothing less. 

Don’t lie, slut! 

Your brain hates you! It fucking hates you—!

Your train of thought immediately shut off as you saw Ellie walk out of the elevator. She looked so…warm. She had on a black beanie and sweatsuit, little marijuana fuzzy socks, and slippers. 

You missed seeing this side of her. So relaxed and comfortable. 

She walked over to you with a timid expression before finally muttering a hi, and you muttered one back. 

You could tell she was nervous: her thumbs were fidgeting, she wouldn’t look you in your eyes for too long, and she was licking at her slightly chapped lips. 

“We should, um… go upstairs?” She asked quietly, like speaking too loudly would frighten you. 

You only nodded gently. She nodded back before turning, leading you towards the elevators. 

You found out Ellie lived on the… nineteenth floor. What the fuck? Wasn’t the golden rule of apartments: the higher you are, the more expensive it is?! What the fuck was she doing up here?

“My place is down the hall,” she said over her shoulder. You took note of the shakiness in her voice. You’ve never seen her so skittish before. Was it because of you? 

She unlocked the third from the last door and opened it, allowing you entry. You took in her place and… holy fuck!

Her apartment… her loft was fucking immaculate!

Her living room was huge: plush, gray couch that was stocked with matching pillows, black and green rugs littering the floor, TV mounted on the wall, black glass coffee table, and her dual monitor setup (you see that black kitten ears headset! was she a fucking gamer?!). There were black details everywhere on the walls, floors, and spiral staircase that led into her bedroom what the fuck?! You could see where she slept… and you were still downstairs! 

And her fucking black marble kitchen! You were in love! You never cooked a day in your life, but you will gladly start now if it means you can stay in there forever! 

“Ellie, who the fuck are you?” you asked, shocked and dazed. 

She seemed to relax at your question as she softly chuckled, shyly looking down at her socked feet. 

“I’ll tell you everything you wanna know. Come sit with me.” She said, nodding towards her couch. It was slightly sunken in; she must’ve been napping there! You unlaced your boots and removed your coat, holding it in your hands. As you followed her towards the couch to sling your coat over the back, a soft jingle, followed by soft paddling on the floor caught you off guard. You turned to see a small, green-eyed Bombay cat next to the kitchen counter, curiously staring at you. 

You let out a gasp of excitement at the little baby before looking at a surprised Ellie, grabbing her wrist joyfully. 

“Ellie, oh my god! Why didn’t you tell me you had a cat?! It’s so cute, boy or girl?! How old is it— “ 

“She’s a.. she’s a girl. Seven months.” 

“She’s soooo cute! Oh my god! I always wanted a cat! What’s her name? Oh, look at her little princess collar— “

You turned back to her: she had an expression that you didn’t recognize, and you hadn't realized how close you’d gotten during your jumpy, hyper kitty questions. You felt her breathing against your face as she studied it, and you studied her back. 

Why were you suddenly thinking about that night? You kissing her, her kissing back, her grabbing you like she never wanted to let you go again. Her eyes slowly dropped to your mouth, and yours did the same. All you had to do was lean forward again—

A quiet meow! snapped you out of your lustful haze before you looked down and backed away. You noticed Ellie hadn’t moved from her position when you looked back up, eyes still searching for… something. 

“She’s.. she’s cute,” you said as you cleared your throat, walking towards the cushiony space. “Let’s sit.” 

She silently nodded and sat next to you. 

Deep breath. Exhale. 

Let’s get this over with! your brain shouted. 

“I’m so sorry. I never regretted anything so much in my life. I treated your sister like fucking garbage—I treated you like garbage and I’ve never felt so terrible— “

“Ellie, breathe,” you cut off her nervous mumbles. You just sat down! “I’m not… upset with you anymore. And you're not the only one who fucked up, either. It wouldn’t be an apology if I didn’t take some accountability too.” 

You watched her relax before confusion overtook her expression. You explained yourself, blushing as you recalled the events of that night. “I know… New Year’s wasn’t the best first meeting after…. you know. I wanted to apologize for how I… reacted and what I did. It wasn’t okay at all—” 

There was a moment of silence before she broke it, eyebrows still pulled downward as she stuttered. “You don’t... You don’t have to apologize for that. I um…. like, it was fine. Well, it wasn’t fine—we were drunk and whatever, but, yeah, I don’t think of you differently, or, what I mean is— “

You laughed lightly at her nervousness. She shook her head with a sheepish smile before she hit her mint elf bar that she pulled out of her pocket, blowing the smoke away from your face. 

“I’m not sure if you can tell, but I’m scared shitless.” 

“I think you’re making it obvious,” you said as you chuckled and continued. 

She paused as she collected her thoughts, staring down at the couch. “I said a lot of… fucked up shit when I met up with your sister after everything happened. About her… about you. I don't know how much she told you but… I said things that I regretted immediately. I was angry and hurt… and I felt cornered, and I lashed out. Doesn’t excuse it at all, but… yeah, it was gross’n uncalled for.”

“She told me everything. All of it,” You tried to ignore the sting in your heart as you recalled that night. She nodded her head shamefully. You continued. 

“Why didn’t you reach out after your birthday?” You pressed as softly as you could manage. 

She didn’t answer immediately as you watched her breathe deeply. 

“I…” She stuttered before whispering. “I was scared.” 

“Of?” You pressed again, tone more urgent. 

“Of you both never talking to me again,” She said, confusing you before she clarified. “I held it off for so long because I needed to think about my approach. I felt if I immediately called you, you wouldn’t wanna talk to me because of how fresh it was. But I also…I don’t know, it’s fuckin’ stupid.” 

You shook your head at her. “I'm just…I’m confused because I never, like, hated you or anything like that after we left your party. I want you to know that,” you said seriously, your nerves making you stutter. “I was sad and embarrassed, but never… hateful, if that makes sense. Even when I tried to be afterwards, it never came.” 

You noticed her expression drop slightly at the mention of hate before she replied softly. “I’d understand if you did. What I said to you and your sister was fucking disgusting… I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me for what I said.” 

“She’s been… stubborn, I won’t lie. I don’t know what state of mind she’s in when it comes to you, to be honest. I just know she’s still hurting.” 

Ellie nodded in acknowledgment as she looked down, but you could see the sorrowful look overtake her face at your admission. It made your heart stutter. You watched as she hit her nic again. 

Just as you were about to move to comfort her, your phone dinged, and dinged, from your pocket. You unlocked your phone and saw a slew of texts from Arya. 

ari: is she giving you “i’m sorry” head yet?

ari: im bored bro being a good friend is tiring 😐🙄

ari: i know her strap is bright red and THICK 

ari: like a fire hydrant!!

ari: how tf r u gonna walk outta that big ass building!!🚷🚷🚷

You clenched and blushed heavily at the suggestion, clicking your phone off and dropping it in your lap out of embarrassment. You looked back up at her with a mortified expression and she… was smirking. And then she smiled. And laughed. She’d been looking at your screen the whole time. Why didn’t you angle the screen away from her?!

She saw them. She saw the messages!

You want to die you want to die you want to die—

“Your friend’s funny,” she said as she blew out a waft of smoke around her giggles. 

“I’m—I’m so fuckin’ sorry, she’s crazy and gross! —“ 

She laughed harder and shook her head. “No, you're good, don’t worry.” 

You fell back on her couch (it felt like a fucking cloud!) with your face in your hands as you thought about the type of casket you wanted for your funeral. 

But… oh, fuck. 

You felt her body move on the couch before you felt her weight crawl on top of you and oh god what the fuck!

She pulled at your forearms to slide your hands off of your warm face, but you refused to open your eyes there was no way you’re opening your fucking eyes right now—

“Look at me.” 

You shook your head. She smelled so good, she smelled so good! Your body clenched tight, you were so horny, and you wanted her bad and was her dick like a fire hydrant?!—

“Open ‘em, c’mon, wanna see you!” you heard the smile in her voice. 

You missed her smile so bad, and you moved on autopilot, slowly opening your eyes and taking in the sight above you. She was cheesing so hard, a light blush painted across her freckles, beanie discarded and hair everywhere from her messing with it out of nervousness when you sat down. She looked so much more comfortable in your presence, and it made your heart skip with joy. You couldn’t help but smile back at her. 

What you didn’t expect was for her to take your wrists in her calloused hands, pin them either side of your head, and bend down to whisper it’s not red, it’s purple, but yeah! before you turned away from her to suffocate yourself in her cushions. They smelled like her why does the universe hate you—!

She started hysterically laughing as she let go of your wrists and plopped down next to you, and it made you want to cry: her laugh is so goofy and stupid and she snorts, but nobody could tell you that her laugh didn’t sound like angels singing in that moment. All you could do was watch her with the widest grin on your face. 

After she wiped the tears from her eyes, she met yours, her smile getting softer and her eyes gentler. She licked her lips before she subtly dropped her eyes to your mouth, and back up to meet your gaze again. You could feel her gently grazing her fingers across your forehead as you looked at each other. Your heart was pounding due to her closeness—

THROW IT IN ROTATION! (THROW IT!)—

Your ringtone blared in the living room and you wanted to fucking scream. You sat up to reach for it before plopping back down, answering it. 

“BITCH, I’M STARVING! ARE Y’ALL DONE?!”

You heard Ellie snicker at your friend's blaring before she whispered a soft don’t leave yet. You sent her a reassuring smile and she sent one back. 

“Umm.. Ari?” 

“Girl… what?” 

“I’m staying, m’ sorry for keeping you waiting for this long.” 

You heard her let out a cackle before she wailed, “THE STRAP GOT YOU LIKE THAT?! WHEN’S THE WEDDING—!” 

You hung up before she could say anything more. Ellie’s booming laughter nearly shook the entire building. 

Your entire body was boiling hot. You heard another ding! from your device. You couldn’t help but read it, making sure to block the screen from Ellie's view this time. 

ari: I LOVE U!!!!! PLS BE SAFE 

ari: AND DONT B MAD AT ME BC HER PIPE CRAZY!!! XOXO

“Holy fuck!” Ellie said in between breaths, more tears running down her face. “I have to meet her, oh my god!” 

It was dark and you were still at Ellie’s. 

You’d been laying on the couch talking for hours about any and everything: how you and Arya are roommates on campus, your attempts at music production, your fucking YouTube channel and how she’d been a dedicated subscriber for months?! You let her talk about her life as well: her being a music engineer and producer (she started selling her beats to artists in the city months ago, rich bitches only!), how she, Dina, and Jesse are still very close (poor sissy), her being a literal fucking celebrity and a monarch for the creative community in your town. 

(“It was such a random night, I swear to god!” she squealed out with a smile as you listened to the story, laughing. “But… I felt like I wanted to help them, they were such nice people. And it blew up like crazy, it was insane! We couldn’t believe it.”)

You both rambled on and on! 

But, even with her transparency, there was still something heavy weighing on you that she hadn’t addressed. 

“Ellie?” 

“Hm?” 

“I don’t wanna… press on this, and don’t answer if you don’t feel comfortable, but… why did you and Cat break up?” You asked softly, staring at the wall behind her. 

You felt her shift next to you, and you immediately went to apologize for crossing a boundary, but she spoke before you could. 

“We um… we were kinda… bad for each other? That shit sounds so fuckin’ corny, but it’s true.” She said as she collected her thoughts. She continued when she gathered them. 

“We met really randomly. I was walking home from school, and we just bumped into each other in front of this gas station. She looked so cool to me and I was like oh my god, she’s perfect. I was still in my fucking gym clothes from P.E, like,” She said with a soft laugh. You smiled encouragingly. “I was in a really… bad place and she came in and made me not think about it all the time.” 

She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve always been a little unstable, but it just… all went downhill after we moved to Cali. She was doing things I didn’t like, I was doing things she didn’t like and… yeah. She broke up with me and kicked me out.” 

“I’m really sorry, Ellie,” you said comfortingly. “I know you were together for a really long time, that’s terrible.” 

“No need to apologize, we just grew apart. It happens,” she replied softly, finally meeting your eyes. “And I got cat custody, so.” 

You both let out soft laughs as the familiar jingle rang from the kitchen. 

“I swear to god she was human at some point, she always comes when I mention her,” she commented with an eyeroll. 

“She’s such a sweetie pie, I wanna cuddle!” 

She quietly hummed in agreement before letting out gentle kissy noises to lure her pet over. 

Jingle, jingle, jinglejinglejingle—

And a cat appeared on the back of the couch. 

“Hi, princess!” You said giddily as you sat up, propping yourself up on your elbow as she sniffed your extended hand. “I’m a fuckin’ idiot, what’s the baby’s name?” 

“Duchess, fuckin’ vermin,” She said lightly, grin on her face as she sat up to grab the kitty and placed her in the open space between your bodies, planting kisses on her little head. 

“Hi, baby! You’re so cute!” You squealed out as she purred at your gentle pets, before she froze, looked off into the distance and ran off the couch like she saw a ghost. 

Ellie tsked and rolled her eyes at her fleeing form before she turned back to you. Did she move closer? Or did you? 

“Are you hungry?” She quietly asked, her eyes—once again—locked onto your mouth. 

“A little.” 

“My dad made lasagna last night, it’s in the fridge. We can order in too if you don’t want that.” 

“I love lasagna!” 

You watched her grin and look at your mouth one more time before she got up and waddled over to the kitchen. 

The lasagna was in the oven, and you were watching Ellie seal her rolled blunt at the kitchen table. 

She was lightly licking the wrap closed and you were staring hard. Like, really fucking hard. Your devious fucking brain almost allowed you to forget that she had a fucking black tongue piercing, and you were starting to squirm in your chair—

“You smoke?” 

You dazedly shook your head no. “Not really, on very rare occasions.” 

She nodded at you while she licked the paper before speaking. “If you wanna hit, just lemme know.” 

You nodded at her before redirecting your gaze back to her mouth. She was already done with sealing her blunt, but her lips were so fucking pretty and you couldn’t look away. 

Until she started smiling. Fuck. 

“You stare really hard,” she noted with a light laugh. 

“So do you!” You said as you dropped your gaze to her table. 

“Mhm,” She agreed with a nod, squinting her eyes at you. “But you try to act like you're not looking when you are. I want you to catch it, that’s the difference between me’n you.” 

She said it so casually and it made your pussy clench—

Ding!

“Be a doll and light this for me, gonna go get the goods,” She said, sliding the stocked ashtray and lighter over to you before lightly jogging towards the oven. 

You picked up the lighter and flicked it before picking up the blunt, awkwardly guiding it to the flame. 

Was this correct? Or were you supposed to light the other side? What the fuck—

“How the fuck do you live with a stoner like your sister and not know how to spark?” She playfully teased you from the counter, mitt-covered hands holding the hot pan of food. 

“Fuck off! I just told you I don’t smoke!” You said with a pout. 

She walked back over to you, placing the pan in the middle of the table and removing her paw oven mitts before taking the blunt and lighter from you. 

“You’re lighting it like a cig, here, lemme show you.” She said as she sat down. 

You watched her ignite the flame and brought it over to the tip of the blunt. She slowly rotated the blunt so all sides were burnt, a steady stream of smoke releasing from the lit end of it. 

She brought it to her lips and lightly puffed it twice and you didn’t realize how tight you were squeezing your fists together. 

She put the lighter down, properly ripping from the blunt and breathing in a little… sphere? before exhaling and what the fuck was that she’s so fucking sexy—

“See?” 

“I can see your charred lungs—!”

She busted out into laughter before she started choking, pointing towards the kitchen cabinets, whining out a go get the fuckin’ plates!

You giggled as you rushed over to grab two, along with forks and a knife before jogging back to your seat. 

You made Ellie a plate, cutting her a piece of the cheesy corner and sliding it in front of her, placing her fork on the dish. 

You felt her eyes staring holes into your face, and you slowly turned to her, holding her intense gaze as she brought the blunt up to her lips to hit it. She was watching your every move. All you were doing was putting the fucking casserole on the plate, but you felt so hot. 

You shyly turned away from her gaze and made yourself a plate and ate in comfortable silence (this lasagna was so fucking good, it rendered you speechless!) as Ellie smoked her roach down. You could still feel her staring! 

You both finished eating and you got up to stack and wash the dishes before Ellie stopped you with a nope! you’re my guest! go sit!

“Let me at least wash mine!” You said as you snagged your plate from her hand and ran to the sink, water running and sponge already in hand. 

Ellie threw her plate in the sink as you both giggled, reaching for your plate to snatch it back. You tussled with her, dodging her playful grasps for the dirty dish before you felt her front press all the way up against your back, trapping you between the counter and her. And you were immediately still.

And so was she. 

She slowly reached around you to turn the water off, grabbing the plate and sponge from your nonresistant hands to place them into the sink. Your hands and body were frozen as you stood there. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been anticipating her touch until you felt her hands on both your covered arms. She slowly moved them up before she brought her hands to your shoulders to squeeze them, sliding them over to gently massage her thumbs into the back of your neck. 

You nearly bent over this fucking sink! 

Your breathing picked up even more when she whispered out a this okay?, her breath making the hairs on your arms stand up. You nodded eagerly as you bit your lip. Your pussy nodded even faster! 

Desperate slut! I knew it!, your brain screamed, and for once, you didn’t listen. You just felt the hands on you. 

“You wanna know somethin’?” She whispered out against your neck. 

You nodded so hard. Anything anything anything—

She let out a light chuckle before she said, “I thought about you a lot after you left the bar, ‘s kinda embarrassing.” 

You spoke before you could think. “What… what'd you think about?” You breathed out, unsteady. You felt her hands clench tighter on your shoulders. 

You felt her smirk at your greedy tone against your neck, “Fuckin’ you up against that door, wanted to make you cry.” 

You were about to cry right now! Your pussy’s crying! She needs attention! Your hands were glued to the sink, but you slowly wrapped your foot around her ankle to subtly pull her closer to you. You wanted no space between the two of you, you needed her closer. 

You felt her drop her hands before she whispered out a turn around, baby.

You dropped your foot spun—whipped— around and it made her giggle. She was so, so close but you needed her closer, needed to breathe her in, needed her inside—

You looked at her, you looked at her so fucking hard. She's so gorgeous and handsome and sexy and you needed her like you needed air! You missed her so much! You couldn’t fucking breathe—!

Kissmekissmekissme—

“Stay the night,” she whispered out against your mouth. 

“Not fuckin’ going anywhere.” You could barely recognize your own voice; you needed her so badly. 

She hummed, satisfied with your answer before she grabbed your waist to pull you flush against her—just like she did that night—and kissed you. She kissed you breathless and you couldn’t think. She barely touched you and you were brainless! 

She smelled like weed and fucking pine and your legs felt like jelly! 

Her hands were everywhere: grabbing your hips, grabbing your ass, grabbing your tits through your clothes and you were moaning into her mouth, tugging at her sweatshirt to pull her closer. You felt her studded tongue slide against yours and you moaned again, louder. She hummed back, sucking your bottom lip into her mouth before releasing it to lick it again. You felt her thigh shove between yours in a hard grind against your pussy. You squeaked into her mouth as you impulsively moved downward to meet her thigh. 

“Wanted to cum on me so fuckin’ bad, right? Huh?” 

“Yeah, baby, shit— “

“Uh huh,” she hummed at your whines before pulling back, grabbing at your sweatpants with a rough tug downward. “Take these off, c’mon.” 

You yanked them down as Ellie squatted to help you get them from around your ankles. You stumbled as you lifted a leg to step out of one, but one of her hands came up to your hip to steady you, planting a gentle kiss to one of your thighs with a muttered easy. You noticed her catch a glimpse of your underwear as she pulled away from your leg, which were littered with fucking bowls of fruit are you fucking kidding—

“You’re so fuckin’ cute, holy shit,” you felt her chuckle lightly at your bashed reaction, covering your face as you whined into your hands. 

“This is so fucking embarrassing!” 

She ignored you as you felt her press kisses all over your legs, “Look at me.” 

You whined again, shaking your head. 

You felt her kiss her way back up over your panties, over your stomach with a tight grip on your hips, grabbing your tits over your sweatshirt, and you hadn’t even noticed that your hands dropped from your face to grip the counter to steady yourself. She reconnected her lips with yours and you threw your arms around her neck. She pressed her thigh against you, and you slammed a clenching hand down on the counter behind you for balance. She held your hips to help you grind down on her and you were so, so high-strung and ready to cum for her—

“El—Ellie, oh fuck!” 

“Yeah?” She said against your neck, sucking marks into the skin.

“Ye—mmh!” 

“Gonna get m’fuckin’ leg wet? Gonna make me yours?” She slurred raspily. 

The thought of her being yours was enough to make you cum hard in your panties, your body stiffening and your eyes rolling back as it wracked through you. Ellie made sure to keep the gap between your pussy and her leg closed as you rode your high out. You tried to shut your legs as she pressed into you, but your resistance only made her dig her leg harder into your clit with a cocky chuckle against your neck. You couldn’t stop saying her name and you knew she loved it! You were so happy she was standing as close as she was; You would’ve hit the floor the second it washed over you! 

She continued that slow grind as you came down. She pulled away from your neck to kiss your mouth, then your nose, then both your cheeks before mumbling, “Can you make it upstairs or do you want me walk you to the fuckin’ couch?” 

You peeled your eyes open to lightly glare at her flushed face, and she laughed before kissing your cheek again and pulling you away from the counter. “C’mon, baby, wobble your ass upstairs.” 

You did, lightheaded and all. 

Ellie's room was so… her. 

Posters of metal bands all over the black, faux brick wall, green and blue fairy lights above her dresser, little trinkets and action figures and books on her other dresser. It was all dark tones with hints of forest green on her dresser and nightstands. You were surrounded by her scent when you walked up the stairs, and you almost passed out from elation. 

What you didn’t expect to see was her customized fucking guitar that her dad gave her on the stand in the corner of her room. Next to it, on the desk near her producing equipment, was the embroidered guitar pic that you and your sister got for her eighteenth birthday. She still had it, she actually used it. You immediately felt tears prick your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” she said sympathetically, wrapping her arms around your waist to hold you against her. You sniffled and wiped your eyes. 

“…Nothin’, just happy and missed you,” You hoped she bought it. You weren’t about to tell her that you were crying over a fucking guitar pic. 

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, you don’t understand,” and you felt her squeeze your waist tighter. 

You were on cloud nine. 

After you calmed down and wiped your face as she kissed your neck in comfort, she guided you over to her mussed king bed with a mumbled sit down against your forehead before kissing it. You sat and moved to scoot up towards the middle of the bed, but she quickly grabbed your ankles and pulled you back down to the edge. You let out a shocked squeak. 

“No one told you to move. Stay there,” She scolded quietly before removing her sweatshirt. Your pussy squeezed at the sight of her bare chest and her fucking defined abs and her everything. You examined her upper body closely: flushed chest littered with freckles shaped like stars, small and random scars that you recognized from her skateboarding accidents years ago, how muscular she was. She was so…

She watched your legs squeeze together with a lick of her lips. You watched her gaze peer down as she watched wetness collect on your panties before she turned and walked towards her dresser to turn her dim lamp and dug around for something… a few things. 

Your heartbeat pounded at an alarming pace as you watched her back muscles move with her rummaging. You let out a quiet, dreamy sigh. You’d let her do anything she wanted to you!

She walked back to the bed with full hands, placing the pile of… toys on her exposed, forest green, pine-scented sheets. 

You were staring so hard at the… weaponry she just dumped next to you. The only one you recognized was the rechargeable blue wand, her fucking thick, dark purple strap oh fuck, some cherry-flavored lube, and that clit massager that people always linked under viral Twitter threads. Hey, ladies! —

Ellie must’ve noticed the shocked look on your face as you eyed the toys because you felt her grab your chin to redirect your gaze onto her. You were so wound up. 

“We don’t have to use all of these, we don’t have to use any of you don’t wanna,” Ellie said gently as she looked down at you while gently caressing your jaw with her pointer finger. “Just wanted you to know I have a preeetty good selection to choose from, it’s up to you, though, whatever you want.” 

You got wetter at her consideration and her soft chuckles and her touch and her tits, and oh god, you were about to say I love you—! 

“Ellie, I’ve never—y’know,” You blurted out before your habit of impulsivity took over.  

“Never used a toy?” 

Your face got hotter as you sighed heavily and averted your gaze towards the wall, and you felt her release your chin to lay on her stomach next to you. 

She called out your name softly. You timidly looked at her. 

“You never had sex?” 

You slowly shook your head no. 

You were expecting her to joke around and laugh at your embarrassing confession, but she looked and sounded so attentive, so comforting, and it made you squirm. 

“It's not a big deal, y’know that right? There’s no timeline to do it. You do it when you wanna… and that’s it.” She said with soft finality as you turned to look at her… very high ceiling. Wealth. 

“I wanna, it’s just… like, I don’t know how. Like, where do I put my hands?” You asked with an awkward chuckle as you stiffly held them in the air. 

She snorted in your ear before she shuffled closer, turning onto her side to face you. You felt her lift your hoodie up just under your lounge bra and you felt her hand graze the exposed skin above your panties, not dipping under, yet. Just… touching along them. It made you shudder.

“You put ‘em where you like,” She whispered in your ear as she kissed them, barely nudging her fingers under your panties. “And you just watch. See how they react.” 

You dropped your hand to place lightly on her wrist to rest there. You saw her gauging your reaction for any signs of discomfort from the corner of your eye. There weren’t any, touch me everywhere!, you wanted to scream. 

“El…Ellie..” You whimpered out

“Tell me what you want from me, I’ll do it, anything you want, just need to hear you say it.” She sounded just as eager as you felt and it was making your toes curl. 

“Can you,” You whined out quietly as you gripped her wrist tighter. She nodded encouragingly at you. “Want you to touch me.” 

“Tell me where, baby.” 

“Y-you know where.” 

“Say it.” She demanded. Her voice was going to put you in a casket! 

“My… my pussy, want you to touch my pussy,” you quickly murmured out to her, your eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. 

“Take these off,” she whispered, kissing the side of your head as she snapped the band of your underwear against your skin. You quickly lifted your hips to rip them off your body, harshly kicking them onto the floor. She snickered at you. 

She sat up to instantly straddle your waist and your eyes shot open. She looked so pretty on top of you like this. She bent down to place a quick kiss to your lips before she lifted your hoodie up and over your head and tossed it…. fucking somewhere, you didn’t care where! She started kissing you on your cheeks, down to your jaw, to your neck, to your shoulder (you jerked slightly, you love it when she touches you there!). You felt her slowly lift your bra up and over your tits, your back immediately arching up into her so she could pull it off you, tossing that into the abyss, as well. 

“Put your fuckin’ hands up there,” She said, nodding her head up slightly as she sat up to take your body in. You pushed your self-consciousness aside and immediately followed her instructions, releasing the tight grip you had on her sheets and stretching your arms out above your head. “Don’t move ‘em, either.”

You nodded your head. You won't, you won’t! 

She brought her lips down to meet yours again before she trailed them down your body. She kissed and sucked on both your nipples, the stud in her mouth circling the bud, as you whined and squirmed under her, fingers grasping the blankets above your head, your hips bucking up before she pressed them down with her strong hands. 

“Stop moving.” 

You nodded as you whimpered. 

She left kisses down your stomach, sucking bruises into it as she moved down down down, her feet planting on the floor before she got down on her knees. She yanked you closer to the edge and her, throwing your legs over her shoulders again. Your lower half was nearly hanging off the bed!

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy, I swear to god.” She said against your thighs as she sloppily kissed them. You clenched tighter when she whispered out a so fuckin’ cute. 

You felt her spread your pussy lips with her fingers, exposing the pulsing bud. Another gush of wetness left you and she laughed gently. It made you clench again. 

“Ever put a finger inside?” 

“N-no?” You whimpered between pants.

“You don’t remember?” 

“I’ve never… yeah.” 

She chuckled lightly. “Okay, wanna see if you like it?” 

You let out a shaky mhm!, and you felt her arms tightly wrap around both your thighs before she licked your clit in a slow swipe. 

You moaned out and your back arched and your eyes watered. The jewelry in her mouth was making you see stars and it’s been five seconds. She barely did anything and you felt that tight clench in your core! You were about to cum already!

You felt her tongue move in slow circles on your clit and you couldn’t stop making fucking noise! You were whining out pleads and your pussy was telling her I like it, don’t stop! with every throb, every clench. You could feel her take notes of all your reactions as she slowly massaged your clit with her pierced tongue. You felt that feeling coming back and it was so fast—

“El, mmh!—fuck, ‘m gonna—!”

“You can, ‘m not gonna stop.” She said against your clit. The vibrations sent your brain into overdrive. 

“Ughh! Fuck—!”

You came. You came so fucking hard. You couldn’t fucking run due to the tight grip on your thighs, so you slammed your hand down on her shoulder to ground yourself, digging your nails into it as she moaned out against your clit as she sucked on it. Your head was thrown all the way back as you screamed her name, and she was still sucking on your clit and wasn’t stopping and oh fuck— 

“El, pleasepleaseplease, I can’t—“you called out as you pushed her head away from you. 

She released your clit and slapped it before you could squeeze your thighs together. You let out a squeak and jolted away from her snickering form as you felt her kiss up your legs, to your torso, to your face before resting beside you. 

“You okay?” She asked as she laughed quietly, planting kisses on your ear and neck. You couldn’t move or speak—you could hardly breathe! — and she had the audacity to laugh?!

“I’m not done, I told you that,” She said as she sucked on your shoulder, and you felt a tight squeeze again. 

“Ellie, I can’t take anymore— “

“Yeah, you can, open em’, c’mon, lemme see,” She said as she tapped your stiff thigh. You slowly released the tension in them before letting them fall open and she sat up to prop herself on her elbow. You watched her look down so she could look at and rub your clit again, letting out a quiet fuuuck at the sight of your sticky center. Your legs almost flew shut at the sensitivity, but she held them open with one of her legs. You let out a groan as she laughed louder and rubbed a little harder before she stopped at your whining. Fucking sadist!

“Wanna watch you take my fingers.” 

You whimpered out her name as you met her gaze. 

“Want me to stop, baby?” 

You quickly shook your head. No, no no, don’t stop, don’t leave me! 

She bent down to kiss your neck as she moved her hand to squeeze the inner parts of your thigh before she brought her hand back down to rub your clit again. Your hips bucked, but she didn’t hold you. 

You felt her fingers dip lower and lower until she was at your drippy opening, only to bring them up to her mouth to suck them clean. You moaned when she moaned at the taste and turned to kiss you, gliding her tongue on yours so you could see for yourself. You sucked lightly on her tongue and her tongue ring, and she whined out. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good, such good pussy,” She slurred out against your mouth. You felt her hand go straight back down to your pussy before she lightly nudged her finger in. You went stiff. She kissed your neck to soothe you. 

“This okay?” She asked gently before continuing.  “Always remember you can stop me.” 

“Wan’it, El, I promise, want you everywhere, want you inside,” you sounded just as delirious as she was, drunk off each other. 

She nodded against you. “Okay. Gonna go slow.” 

You nodded back. 

She continued her movements, slowly pushing her pointer finger inside you, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. But you were so fucking wet, you could feel yourself dripping on her fucking sheets, her finger slipped in and you wanted more. 

You felt her slowly rub your clit with her thumb and it made you squeeze tight on her. 

“Can barely move my fuckin’ finger, what the fuck,” She said in shock and it made you squeeze harder! “Want another, baby? Want another inside?” 

You were nodding mindlessly as you listened to the noises your pussy made (yes, please! another inside!) as she rubbed you raw, and you could feel her wiggling around, in search for something—

You moaned aloud as your legs instinctively opened wider so she could get deeper and holy fuck it felt so fucking good when she hit right there—

“Yeah?” She rasped in your ear, pressing on it harder. 

“Yeahyeah, fuck—“

“Yeah babygirl? That’s the spot? Like it right here?” She asked dazed as she slid another finger in to press up against it. You felt the stretch but you didn’t care because you felt something inside you rising and rising—

She wasn’t even fucking you anymore! Just grinding her fingers into right where you needed them while her thumb circled your clit and she was about to make you cum again. The squelching noises of your pussy got louder and louder and your eyes rolled into your skull as your back arched as it hit you. 

“Fuck yeah, fuckin’ give it to me, thaaat’s a good girl, fuck me.” 

You felt a burst of wetness around you and it wouldn’t stop because of how hard Ellie was fucking you. You couldn’t think and all you could say were slurry, wet fuckmefuckmefuckme’s as she took you to the moon and back. 

You finally came down as Ellie pressed kisses on your head while slowly rubbing your clit, talking you back to earth. Your eyes peeled open, bleary and teary-eyed. How were you not dead yet? You felt like you died!

“Welcome back,” you heard a light voice giggle at you. 

You flipped her off and she laughed. She gave it a kitten lick before she sat up. What the fuck—

You watched her get up to run to the bathroom. You heard the sink running before you saw her quickly return with a warm, damp washcloth to clean you up. 

“My sheets are drenched, goddamn,” She said in quiet amazement as she ran her fingers through her hair. It made you blush harder. 

Jinglejinglejinglejingle—

Meow! MeowMeow! Meow—

“Oh shit. Needa feed her, I’ll be back,” Ellie said to you, bending down to plant a kiss on your bruised thigh, discarding the towel in her hamper. You watched as she scooped up Duchess to carry her downstairs while pressing kisses to her head. 

Your heart was pounding as you smiled dotingly at her descending form. 

After feeding the purring kitty and smoking another blunt, Ellie made her way upstairs to find you curled up and snoring. 

She snorted and made her way over to you, pressing light kisses to your back as you shuffled around. 

“I gotta change the sheets babe, up you get, c’mon,” She said gently with an encouraging pat to your ass. She did, in fact, watch it jiggle. “You wanna shower?”

You shook your head as you rubbed your eyes, rolling over onto your back. “M’kay, just gonna change them and you can sleep.” 

Ellie made her way over to her linen cabinet to grab the freshly washed sheets before making her way back over to your now upright form. 

She watched you stand up to toss the blankets and pillows off and ripped the… soaking sheets off, everything—including the pile of toys that she never put back— falling onto the rug covered floor. She noticed your avoidant gaze as you caught glimpses of her dick poking out from under the pile of bedding. It made her smile and blush. 

Ellie made the bed while you sat at her desk to drink water, fluffing the pillows and fixing the blankets. 

“Alright, come lay down.” 

She heard you move instantly as you dove headfirst into the plush bed, immediately grabbing a pillow and sliding under the blankets. 

Ellie shook her head with a smile before moving towards her nightstand to turn off the dimly lit lamp. She made her way to the bathroom before she heard a little waaitt. She turned to see you with an outstretched hand, luring her back to you. 

“What’s the matter?” She asked, squatting next to you. 

“Wanna kiss,” You said, pouting, and Ellie's heart rate shot up. Fuck, fuckfuckfuck—

But she only hummed in acknowledgment, bending down to connect your lips in a soft kiss. “Better?” 

You nodded with a grin, looking lovingly at her face. You leaned in for one more and she accepted. She accepted so quickly. 

“Gonna go shower, okay?” She said gently against your mouth. 

“Without me?” You whispered back with a sly grin, pressing another kiss to her mouth. 

“Shut up, I asked you,” She was cheesing so fucking hard, her cheeks were starting to hurt. 

You giggled, kissing her cheek before turning back over. 

Ellie let out a deep sigh as she stood and stripped, removing her sweatpants and damp boxers, and tossing everything—including your fruit bowl covered panties that you would not be getting back—into the hamper as she made her way to the bathroom. 

She shut the bathroom door and leaned back against it and thought. 

What the fuck has she gotten herself into? 

She wanted you close the minute she saw you downstairs, all warm and cozy with the brightest, gentlest eyes she’d ever had the pleasure of looking into. So soft and gentle and filled with longing. 

She hoped you noticed how much she missed you, too. 

And your stares… so filled with want and desire and eagerness. She wanted to touch you all over. 

She was so fucking horny, and her heart was beating at the speed of light and every time she shut her eyes, she could see you smiling and laughing and—

She just made you cum all over her bed… and fingers…and leg and you were so fucking tight on her, and she wanted to fuck you so bad. Want to make you feel good. Wanted to make you see what she sees whenever she looks at you. So fucking gorgeous. 

She was getting hot again. 

She slowly walked towards the shower and turned the water on, checking the temperature before stepping inside. 

She leaned forward slightly to wet her hair and her face before grabbing her loofah and soap, sudsing it up and scrubbing her body with the bubbly, pine-scented wash. She turned her back towards the hot water and immediately felt a sting on her shoulder. She turned her head, pulling the skin towards her to see the little red lines you dug into her when you came on her face. 

All she could think about was making you fucking squirt again. She needed to fucking cum so bad. 

But she didn’t want to wake you: you looked so cuddly and warm nestled under her blankets with your face nuzzled into her pillow. She wanted you to stay like that, content and satisfied and relaxed. Calm. You deserved it. Fuck, you deserved so much. 

Her soft thoughts were cut off when she turned back around and looked up. At her shower head. Her detachable shower head. She let out a sigh and accepted her fate. 

She rinsed her body off, making sure all the soap was running off of her and into the drain before she reached up to unhook the shower head from its latch in the wall. She adjusted the temperature to make it cooler, adjusted the settings to massage and squatted against the wall. She exposed her clit with her free hand and moved so the water could hit it straight on. The strong pulse made her shudder instantly. 

Justneedacumjustneedacum—

Her glossy eyes fluttered shut and she immediately saw you bouncing on her dick. She saw you rubbing your clit and touching your tits telling her how good it’s stretching you out, and it’s all for her. She saw you looking up at her with your glossy, lustful eyes, your trembling thighs, your glistening pussy. How pretty it is. How pretty your face was. How bright your smile was and fuck, it was going to make her fucking cum—

She wanted you to be happy. She loved seeing you happy. She loved it, she loved it!

“Fuck, shit!” 

She felt that sweet, swelling feeling in her cunt and she was so close. She missed your scent: you smelt like fucking sunflowers she wanted it all over her. Wanted to drown in you in any way she could. Any way you’d allow. 

She lov—

And she came so fucking hard, her ears started ringing. Her brain only producing images of you and your giggling face and you playing your fucking violin! Who would’ve thought that would make her eyes roll back into her skull as her clit throbbed in her high?

She felt the sensitivity in her bud as she held the flow of water on it, but she needed more. She wanted you so bad, she couldn’t get enough. She was biting her lip to keep from making noises because you were fucking sleeping, but she couldn’t help the little hums and squeaks of pleasure as she bucked up into the stream. 

She was going to cum again. She was getting tighter and she felt it in her toes and she couldn’t stop shaking. 

It was coming so fast. She threw her head back against the shower wall as it swelled in her lower belly and it’s right there it’s right there—

All she heard was your screams of Ellie! and fuckme! and yes! more! want you everywhere! and she blacked out when it hit her. Her mouth dropped open, and she couldn’t help the moans that left her, saying your name as quietly as she could manage. Fuck, she wanted you next to her. Wants you close, always wants you close. She never wants you away from her again. 

She came down, tossing the still running shower head onto the floor as she slouched in her position. Her vision was spotty as she glanced around at the marble walls, but she could still see you in her mind. And she knew that you wouldn’t be leaving it anytime soon. 

Fuck. 

She was in trouble. 

After Ellie got up on her trembling legs and dried off, she walked back into her room to find you tucked under her dark blankets while Duchess laid across your feet on her back. Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she couldn’t help the small smile that made its way onto her face. 

She put on a pair of boxers and Dina’s old Slayer tee before she pulled the covers back to lay next to you. She heard Duchess move around on top of your legs. She carefully sat up to stick her arm out to lure her closer, picking up the tired kitty before she put the fur ball between your bodies. She felt the kitty relax in her grasp. 

Ellie looked up at your tranquil, sleeping form before leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. You nuzzled closer even in your resting state. 

Yeah. 

She was in fucking trouble. 

You woke up early. With no scarf on! 

It was around six in the morning when your eyes pulled up, and you were very hot. And there was something fluffy between your neck and chin. 

And then you remembered. Ellie. Kitty. Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. Oh, shit. The memories of last night slammed into you like a sixteen-wheeler and you couldn’t stop grinning. You probably looked crazy from another perspective. 

She was holding you to her chest, your bare back flush against her clothed chest. You tried to shuffle as lightly as you could so you wouldn’t wake your cuddler, but she moved with you anyway, pulling you closer. 

And then you felt her nails just barely grazing up and down your arm as you relaxed into her instantly. 

“Ellie?” You whispered. 

“Mhm?” she said hoarsely back. Fuck.

“You awake?” 

“…No.” She said with a snort. You gently kicked her leg as you grinned. 

Duchess had moved from your shoulder and onto the bed when you both started shifting, stretching her back before sitting to lick her paw and wipe her face with it, soft jingles ringing through the silence of the room. 

“She likes you,” Ellie noted softly in your ear before kissing it. 

“I love her,” you whispered back as you turned around to face the warm girl. She was resting her head on her large pillow, softly caressing your other arm. Her eyes slowly trailed down your face, then your neck, to your breasts. You watched her lick her lips before biting them. You blushed and reached out to lightly slap her arm. She smiled. 

“Not gonna touch. Just lookin’,” She whispered with a foxlike grin on her face as she continued to stare. 

You giggled at her as she softly laughed with you. “You can touch if you wanna.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna, just not right now,” she said huskily as she cockily raised her brow at you. It made you shiver in delight. She could touch you anywhere. 

But your smile slowly disappeared when you remembered. 

“Ellie?” 

“Yeah?” She said back quietly, meeting your eyes. 

“I leave in a couple days,” you said sadly. “Back to campus, I mean.” 

She nodded in understanding, but you saw her brows pulled down in a slight frown. She looked a little sad at the sound of you leaving and you wanted to hold her so tight. 

“When do you come back, do you know?” she asked in a whisper as she mindlessly played with your fingers under the blanket.

“Not ‘til April,” you said with a sad smile. “Spring break.” 

She let out a sigh before she leaned forward to plant a kiss to your lips, you instantly reciprocating. 

She pulled back to whisper, “Do you needa leave today?” 

You reluctantly shook your head yes. “Not right now, but later, yeah.” 

She said nothing, but she grabbed you by the waist to pull you closer into her chest, nuzzling your neck to plant kisses on it. You didn’t want to leave, and you could feel tears pricking your eyes. You blinked rapidly so she wouldn’t notice how upset you were getting. 

“Wanna make you breakfast, at least.” 

You let out a wet laugh as you sniffed lightly. “You almost burned your house down when you made Jesse those cupcakes for his birthday way back! You’re never allowed in the kitchen again.” 

“Oh, fuck you! I was ten and didn’t know what the numbers were on the knob, leave me alone,” She muffled with a smile into your neck. You let out an even louder laugh at her admission. She pressed one more kiss to your neck before sitting up and removing the blankets. Your nipples hardened as the cold air hit them. 

“What are you lookin’ at? Hm?” You heard her ask. You propped yourself up to see who she was talking to. You followed her line of sight onto the floor to see a… very judgmental looking Duchess giving her owner a feed me now! glare. 

“She’s a fuckin’ homophobe. Make out with me so we can piss her off more!” She said jokingly, making kissy faces and grabby hands at you. Even though you wanted her tongue in your mouth again, you declined. 

“No! Go feed the baby right now!” You said with a laugh as you moved away from her. She laughed at you before she jumped up from the bed. 

“Come on, m’love,” Ellie said as she clicked her tongue at her cat, moving towards the stairs. Small jingles and soft scratches on the hardwood filled the room. 

“Ellie, can I use your shower?” You yelled from upstairs. 

“…Course you can!” You heard her yell back. 

You hadn’t noticed as you moved towards the bathroom, but Ellie flushed bright red at the mention of the shower. 

After washing up and stealing some of Ellie’s pine-scented lotion, you put your hoodie and sweatpants from yesterday back on—bare pussy, where the fuck did your underwear go?!—and flew down the stairs at the smell of sausages and syrup. 

You saw Ellie standing over the burning stove, spatula in hand, toaster filled with blueberry Eggos. Your heart raced at the sight. 

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking about breakfast!” You said excitedly while trying to act like your heart wasn’t about to burst out of your chest. You hoped it was working. 

“Oh, you think this is for you? This is mine, you’re making your own!” Ellie said as she looked at you in mocked shock. 

“Fuck you! Put my eggs on the damn plate!” You yelled back to her as you walked over the table. 

She laughed as she stacked two waffles on your plate before topping them with whipped cream, along with your crispy sausages and (slightly burnt) eggs. She's so cute! 

The little chef walked over to you, towel slung over her shoulder as you giggled giddily. She sets your plate in front of you, calling the masterpiece chef Ellie’s surprise! with a dramatic wave of her towel. You clapped for her as she bowed. 

You drenched your waffles in syrup and dug in, as she lightly jogged over to you with a you couldn’t fuckin’ wait for me?!, plate in hand. 

You ate and talked and joked and laughed so hard, you nearly choked on your orange juice. The two of you were in your own little universe and you never wanted to leave. 

But you had to eventually, and you felt devastation wash over you every hour that passed. 

It was noon, and you had to go home. 

Ellie held your hand the entire walk down the stairs. You got your puffer from the couch and put it back on as you both walked towards the front door. 

She bought your Uber after your denial of her offer to drive you home, sadly claiming I don’t know if sissy’ll be there, and you could tell that the mention of your sister saddened her, but she accepted with a soft okay. 

She squatted to lace up your boots, planting a gentle kiss to your clothed knee before she rose to your height. She’s so tall, fuck. 

“Ready, babe?” She asked gently, wrapping her arms around your neck. You waddled closer, rubbing your nose against hers. She pressed a kiss to your mouth, and you pressed another to hers.

“Don’t wanna go,” you barely whispered out. You felt your eyes getting a little glossy. Don’t fucking cry. 

“Don’t want you to go, but you gotta,” She said gently. “Fucking scholar.” 

You were going to say something, but a notification came from her phone in her pocket. She grabbed it, softly saying your car was downstairs. 

“Text me when you get home, okay?” 

You nodded, giving her one more kiss before pulling away from her warmth, slowly walking towards the front door with her following behind. You pulled it open before turning to wrap your arms around her, and she held you just as tightly. You could see Duchess sleeping on the couch on her back, and your tears fell as you shut them. Don’t cry don’t fucking cry—

You knew you weren’t going to be able to see her before you left, so you inhaled her scent one last time until you saw her again. 

And you turned to leave before she could see your tear-stained face. 

You sent a quick text to Ellie as you exited the car saying that you made it safely. She sent you a im glad baby. get some rest and ill see u soon. And it made you sob. And horny. You want to fuck again. 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket when you got up to your room, wiping your damp cheeks. You opened your STUNNA GIRL RIDERS👩🏾‍🦳💯 group chat. 

y: hi guys lol 

And you nearly jumped at how fast the messages came through. 

ari: BITCH DKNT FUCCKINGNSAY HI LIKE SHIT IS SWEET HOW WASS THE PIPE 

krissy: hi honey! 

shining starr: U HOE

ari: SHES SO YRJXIDNFN I KNOW SHE LAID IT DOWNNNNN DDDDEEEEOWNNNNN 

y: y’all r so annoying 

y: not u kris ily so much ur everything to me

krissy: ur my baby! ilym 

ari: SHUTHT EYFHCJCXUPPP GIMME THE DETAILS I NEED EVERY DETAIL RIGHRNFUCKDINGNNOW IM NOT FUXKING PLAYING

shining starr: 😛😛

y: she made me cum when she did the knee thing and sucked my tits and ate me out and made me squirt when she fingered me

You quickly typed the message and sent it before you regretted it. Your cheeks ran hot even thinking about it. You missed her so fucking much. 

shining starr: oh wow.

ari: OHTNMTCUXKDKSIEIEIEISISJSKAKDBHDJS 

krissy: eeeek i’m so glad u had fun!! 

shining starr: u freak. always the fucking quiet ones i told u bitches that

ari: FUCKKDMFMEKWISDJJDJKOOEOEKWJWN 

ari: SHES S ABOUT TO TURN YOU OUT FUCKCDINNG THATS SO FUCKIRGNNHOT 

y: we didn’t even get to fuck fully but she has so many toys

y: i miss her so bad already 

y: she has a kitty🥺

ari: BITCH FUCK THE CAT!!!! NOBODY CARES!! WHAT COLOR IS HER STRAP 

ari: FUCKIGNNGG. FIRE HYDRANT DICK CONFIRMED???

shining starr: LMFAAOOOOO 

You giggled as you sent them (Arya) the details about what happened last night and this morning and you fucking missed Ellie. You couldn’t believe how much you missed her. 

You used to hate the Spring, but now, you couldn't wait for it to come. 

they getting freaakyyy mmmm everybody clap.

everyone pray 2 the proofread gods 4 me they aint answering my calls no more

shoutout to my lil taglist :p. @fandomshitpostingqueen, @nymphetkoo, @sawaagyapong, @gold-dustwomxn

pt. 5 :p

[mistymisfit]

So long, Marianne I

Summary: Reader is a spy working undercover in Gotham when she meets Jason Todd, who despite her better judgement she forms a very close friendship with. This story follows their escape from Arkham asylum, their fall out and the times they run into each other as they get older.

Relationship: AK!Jason x Meta!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence (I'm serious, tho- in canon it's also pretty violent), angst, hurt/no comfort (for now), this series is just my excuse to write angst lol.

A/N: *CIPA means Congenital insensitivity to pain and anhydrosis aka people who are unable to feel pain. see the end for more notes :)

Word Count: 4,2K

Read on AO3

Part 2- Masterlist

He repeats his question one more time before kicking your stomach again, "Who are you?". He's been asking the same thing for the past... month? Time gets blurry when you're kidnapped. Fuck, undercover work sucked no matter who you did it for. Whether it was your actual boss or the big bad bat himself, they should all make it up for making you endure this--make it up by dying, you thought. God, whose stupid idea was it again? Letting yourself be kidnapped by the Joker so they could track his lair and see if he had any connections to your current case, ah yes... your boss. Not even Batman would ask you to do that, at least the man had some moral code he hung onto, maybe a little too tight. You've earned an early retirement after this assignment, almost two years living in Gotham, out of everywhere. But what neither you or your boss expected was that he'd know your "secret identity" was fake, that he would torture and kill the agents who worked with you and pretended to be your family--or that they'd sell you out. You whisper, they were not even words just an unintelligible sound. He lowers down, putting his ear close to your mouth to be able to listen better and asks you to repeat yourself. You bite him, as hard as you can and draw blood, lots of it which you spit out with a smirk.

"Fuck you" You taunt and he just laughs, holding his wounded ear. The laughing is excessive, it reverberates around the entire room and you brace for the next impact. But it never comes.

"I think it's time you met a friend we have in common" His smile makes dread set in on you, who? By his standards it could be anyone, from someone you actually knew to someone you've never met but was there to pick up on his dirty work as he went to do other things. He pushes you with his feet until you lay on your stomach and begins to cover your hands, you count the layers. First some kind of cloth, then plastic wrap, then aluminum foil, then a bag to hold it all together. Right, you let everyone believe your healing abilities could only work with your hands.

He drags you up, grabbing one of your arms as he walked you to a different room. The side of his head still bled, and you watched the blood fall down and how it got no reaction from him. He must be used to pain or there must be something wrong with his pain nerves. Maybe not enough to be CIPA* because you have seen him wince and experience pain before. Your feet fail you, you can barely take steps due to how weak you are. Every bite of food you've been forced to take ended up being spat or thrown up moments later. You can feel how chapped your lips are, how tangled your hair is, how deep the bags under your eyes must be, the way your arms hurt from being tied behind your back for too long, how much you must look like shit. He opens a door to a mostly dark room, you can only make out a figure sitting on a chair under the singular light in the entire room. He--yeah, it's a guy definitely, you think--he's got his head low, his posture isn't close to being okay and upon further inspection you realize he's tied to the chair. He's pushing to walk in his direction, and you recognize that hair, even though less dirty, and that side profile way less hurt. You knew that person, you knew him maybe a little too much for your mission.

Jason Todd was once your friend, possibly the only friend your age you've ever had. You met him when he was Robin, being instructed that working with Batman may end up being beneficial at the end of the line you were told not to antagonize him. Even helped him every once in a while to get at least his respect. The first time you ever talked to Jason-- or rather Robin at the time, was when he sprained an ankle one night. You were there, trying to gain info on an illegal arms shipment that was arriving that night "We just have to know who bought it" they told you. You weren't there to stop them, you barely were allowed to actually stop bad things from happening and sometimes you envied that in them. They were their own person, they could have lives, make their own decisions, have agency of their own. Instead you, poor you, you had nothing but your work, no family you knew of, no goals of your own, nowhere to go if you wanted to quit. You healed him, at least that you could do. Maybe word would get out of a new vigilante with "unspecified healing abilities", they didn't have to know you actually manipulated time and just turned time back to a moment they weren't hurt. And from that moment on, unknown to you, he had a crush on you.

He started following you around. It's not stalking he'd justify it, he was just investigating. Making sure whose side you were on because after all you were on the harbor the day he stopped some local gangs from getting their hands on bigger guns. But he found no more than your cover story, neither he or Batman could leave a secret identity be secret. He believed your cover story, no one had any reason to question it. You were just Marianne, a simple girl. A simple girl with superpowers who healed his ankle. Later, when you became closer, sitting next to each other on the rooftop of a building looking down on the city lights, and the traffic that still moved late at night, you explained to him that your powers came from a freak accident in a lab when you were a kid. That much was true, most of the things you told him were true. At the time you felt he was someone who understood you, and he felt the same. And that's how the both of you started developing feelings for each other. It was more than just a crush and the need to have the other closer kept getting stronger. You kept reminding yourself that you couldn't, that you were being so unfair to him, keeping him in the dark about who you really were, if he knew the truth he would never have trusted you. So when you were told he died, how Batman was so sure of it, you regretted everything. You were so decided on telling him the night he disappeared, why didn't you do it before? You've been living with that ever since, the regret, the guilt. And it only got worse when you found out he was dead, knowing he died not knowing your real name, he died believing your lies.

"No," you try to stop, not to get closer to his corpse. "what kind of trick is this?"

"Ah, come on- he's still your friend, isn't he?" You struggle, not letting him move you and putting your entire body weight into it, every strain of energy you had in trying to stop it. How sick is he? He kept his body all this time. Tears fell on your face just thinking about it. How much he suffered, how violent his last moments were, how he didn't get justice or a proper burial.

"You can't even respect the dead," You cry "I'm gonna rip your heart out of your chest with my bare hands, do you hear me? I'll make your death so violent even Batman will feel sick"

Your threats started falling out of your mouth faster than the logic in your brain could work, you shouldn't be saying those things. You couldn't be making empty promises like that, you knew you couldn't kill him. You would never be allowed to do it. He laughed, and laughed and pushed you to fall on your back right at the feet of your dead friend. You looked up, just a peak to see his face one last time but he didn't look decomposed, in fact he even had fresh blood on his face. You also saw his chest moving up and down very slowly, was he sleeping?

"Ah, how sweet of you" The man awes, pretending to be flustered by her death threats "but I didn't kill him"

He steps closer and slaps Jason's face, yelling "Wakey, wakey! You have a visit!"

You watch in shock at how he his eyes open so fast, how his head shoot up and the fear in his expression starts to settle in. He wore an orange jumpsuit, as if he was just an inmate more, his cheeks were stained with tears, there was dry blood on one of his nostrils and his lower lip had a cut. Not to mention the "J" scar on his face too.

"What did you do to him?" You ask, sitting up from where you were.

"We were just having fun together, right Jason?" He grabs his head from behind him to make him shake it, saying yes. "and you and I can have just as much fun, soon as you start telling the truth"

"Ma-Marianne?" His voice is rough and low, it was the first time you heard him scared.

"Yes," You crawl closer to him, and look up at him before resting your forehead in one of his legs to hide your face as you started to weep inconsolably "I'm so sorry, they said you were dead, that-"

There is a deadly silence filling the room , where you can only hear your ugly sobs. Jason doesn't respond and you didn't expect him to, but at least they let you cry in peace. Taking in the fact that he'd been alive all this time, thinking about what he's been put through as you mourned like an idiot when you should've kept looking for him. How you abandoned him, how everyone abandoned him. And that made you feel even worse than your initial thought of Joker not letting him rest after he died, because in that case there was nothing you could've done but now... You felt his leg move lightly and you looked up, maybe you were making him uncomfortable and this was his way of saying it. He mouthed a little "I love you" when he knew your captor wouldn't see it. Just then as you gave him a small nod and mouthed "I love you too" you saw he was crying too. Soon his tears fell on you, and he moved his shoulder and turned his head to wipe them off as he sniffed.

"Aww, isn't it romantic, Mr J?" Harley's voice sounds from behind you but you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him. You were getting out there tonight, fuck your cover, fuck your job, he was the only thing that mattered right now.

"Young love," He sighs, dreamy, as if he knew what he was talking about. Like he knew what love felt like at all in any way, shape or form. "We'll have a little menage a trois, It'll be fun dont cha' think?"

And soon enough you felt Harley's arms holding you down as he put a rag over your face and proceeded to throw water. Jason screamed, asking them to stop, that you had nothing to do with them. You coughed when they stopped, at least maybe your face was clean and free of the blood you bit from him earlier. You could handle getting waterboarded, you've been trained to endure all sorts of torture methods. What you couldn't handle was hearing and seeing him like that.

"Now, your little girlfriend hasn't been entirely honest with you"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I've already told you who I am" You insist, this time actually desperate.

"Ah- and who are these two then? Liars?" He shows him, not you, a picture of your fake parents dead. Then he shows it to you, of course Jason thought they were your parents, you gave him no reason to believe otherwise. "Cause you see, I thought you were just another annoying kid, getting in the way of my game with the bat- but you're much more than, you're too good"

Silence, you were trained better than this. They put the cloth on your face again, trying once more to get the truth out of you.

"Hey, maybe he knows" He switches up quickly, and takes a piece of broken wood to hold it over Jason "Come on tell me, who's her? And why is your old man protecting her?"

"Her name's Marianne, and he's protecting her because she's my friend"

"Ah-" He imitates a buzzer noise, like he was in some game show "Wrong answer" He hit him.

"Stop it!" You yell, as he repeatedly hit him. You struggle trying to break free from the woman holding you. Until you managed to hit her with my head somehow. You feel the pain in your scalp from her teeth hitting you too.

"This is useless mista' J," Harley spoke, doubt filled her voice. Maybe you were telling the truth, maybe you were just who you said you were and he was too lost to see it. "the girl's been saying the same for months, and her parents weren't even that convincing when they said they weren't her folks"

You watch them leave, him being visibly angry at her for questioning him. Only for him to come back moments later, almost bolting to Jason saying "I have a show to run outside, could you two behave and wait for me here?" Like you had much of a choice, then he said "And hold this for me, boy" before stabbing him. Of course he couldn't stop by without leaving him with an open wound of any sort. You rushed to him before the door was even closed, you removed the knife from the wound with your mouth, your hands still tied behind your back and wrapped up in multiple different layers in a failed attempt to stop you from using your power. Your eyes lit up as you healed him, his pained grunts eventually coming to a stop.

"I bet I look like shit right now" You joke, resting your cheek on his thigh once more. T rying to hide the fact that, despite the situation you were in, you were still a bit embarrassed that he saw you like that.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life" He confesses, not a single strain of joke or sarcasm in his statement and it makes you blush before you move to the back of his chair to untie him.

"You only say that because you want me to free you" You say before grabbing the rope with your teeth, taking longer to undo the knots than it would with your hands on your back and not being able to see what you were doing. If only they didn't think your powers worked from your hands.

"His ear, you did it?" He asked, getting a muffled sound of confirmation from you. "That's my girl"

The scoff in which he said it made you blush again, your cheeks were heating up tonight. He knew if anyone was ever getting him out it would be you, not Batman. His mentor probably started to look for a replacement as soon as he went off the grid. He knew you would never betray him, that's the only thing the Joker couldn't torture or manipulate out of him, the one thing he could hold on to. His kidnapper was wrong, he was never Batman's or his. He's always been yours, probably since you healed his ankle. The ropes around his arms loosen until he's free again, his muscles were sore but soon the adrenaline would kick in and rid him from all pain. He frees his legs in a hurry as you stand up in front of him, he stands up too again. The stretch felt good, moving on his own felt good, and seeing you again felt even better. You turned around, it was his turn to get rid of the ropes now. He grabbed the knife that you couldn't use and cut through your bindings. Still he couldn't help but think about the worried look on your face, what are you thinking about? How to get out? Him? Whatever it was, he took a moment and the second you turned to face him again he wrapped you in a hug. Feeling your warm body against him for the time in so long, you return the affection hugging him just as tightly. He feels relieved, finally a gentle hand lays on him, a hand that he knew could never hurt him.

"Jay, I-" You hesitate, hiding your face in his chest while trying to hide and get the courage to tell him at the same time "I have to tell you something"

"Can it wait until we get out?" You shake your head no, he had to know so you could break out from there. I mean, it was kinda hard to break out of Arkham without help.

"No, uhm, we need to call for help" You start "There's a chip on me, I need you to cut me and take it out"

"What? Help from who?"

"My agency" You admit in a whisper, and just as fast as you got him back you feel how you're loosing him a second time. He lets go of you, and you can feel the distance he's putting between you two more than any torture Joker put you through.

"Where is it?" He asks, his tone cold and detached. You try to hide how hurt you were, you should've expected it he had every reason to be mad.

"Here" You lift your shirt up and point to the place where the tracker was, on your lower stomach right above your hips, on your left side.

He nods, and you lay down on the floor so he can get to work. He touches you, only to get a feel of where it was and you try not to think that this will probably be the last time you feel him so close as you put your arm over your mouth to stop any noise that may come out of you. He cuts your skin, and you bite your arm and hope it's quick. With the end of the knife he swiftly pulls it out in between all the blood coming out of you. You tell him to step on it so it gets destroyed and sends the message, as you heal yourself. He wasn't even watching you, his eyes were fixed on the door processing yet another betrayal.

"Jay, I wanted to tell you-" You try to explain but he cut you off shooting a serious glare at you.

"I don't care," He was cold, his voice severe and it even scared you "get me the fuck out of here and we'll talk"

You nodded on the verge of tears, then deciding that holding on to the hope than when you two were somewhere safer he'd be open to have a conversation was your safer bet to maintain some sanity. Maybe then he'd listen to your apologies. At this point you weren't hoping for absolution but a truce would suffice. Why did you have to go and fuck it up? Why did you have to go and fall for him? You knew who you were, a spy trained for most of the life you remembered who worked undercover in Gotham, you knew you were not supposed to have any ties or emotional connections. You cursed at whoever gave you feelings and made you human, instead of whoever turned you into a machine.

"We should get moving, get to the extraction point"

He just nodded, it was short and formal, so unlike what you were used from him. He followed behind you as you carefully opened the door. There were no guards outside, so you moved. Soon an alarm started to blare through the rotten and worn down asylum wing, that's why the hallway was so empty. Two inmates run past both of you, pushing you to a wall in the process. You reach to grab Jason's wrist to make sure he's behind you but stop halfway through. Probably being touched by you was the last thing he wanted. So you just walk, decidedly pushing through this situation you were in. Armed with nothing but your fists you take out a man twice your size, you easily dodge his punches and swiftly move around him to hit him in key points that he leaves open. Jason watches, and realizes as you jump to the man's shoulders and snap his neck that you had been holding back all this time. He understands you have been capable of using lethal force but chose not to, though he doesn't know the reason for that. Was it because of Batman? Was it because you were ordered not to? He pushes down the thought, as he should be more focused on the guy he was fighting instead of you. You keep moving, going up to were a helicopter would be waiting for you. What you didn't expect was the Joker's backup plan, Death-stroke, pointing a gun right at your head. Shit, you didn't even tell him about your powers yet, he was going to be even more pissed if you didn't find another way out of this soon.

"Out of my way kid" He tells you "I'm only getting paid for not letting him leave alive, but I don't mind wasting a bullet"

"Oh, fuck off" you sigh tired, you just wanted to get out of there. You were exhausted, you wanted a shower and to sleep on a real bed and if it wasn't too much to ask maybe see the light of the sun. So you froze him, time stopped for the man in front of you. "move, it won't last long"

Jason wants to ask, he's itching to know. How did you do it? How did healing people translate into what you just did? He had so many questions for you, about you. Every time a new question came into his head he felt even more offended, he thought he knew you so well and turns out you'd made him out to be an idiot. He feels like an idiot and for that he's even angrier at you for lying, for keeping things from him when he had been so vulnerable to you. That you knew everything about him yet he knew barely anything about you and even what he knew he doubted it was even real at all. But out sheer stubbornness he wasn't going to ask, he'd rather take the curiosity to his grave.

The loud noise of a helicopter becomes more clear as you head up, and then you recognize the all black uniform and standard weapon of your agency. Confusion painted your face, why would they send backup instead of it just being an extraction team. Usually they didn't have a care in the word if you got out in time or not, even going as far as leaving you behind once. They weren't usually this helpful, or willing to use resources on a simple rescue mission. The help didn't last long since you heard the gun shot coming from where you came from. Shit, it wore off you better leave quickly. You tell him to run, to keep up the pace and he does, promising himself this was the last time he would trust you. It was all fine and well, you could see the escape route clearly you almost made it when you heard it. Jason held the bleeding wound from the bullet, stumbling until you helped him. You stole a gun from a passing agent, they wouldn't notice since it was just their back-up, and shot at the mercenary. Your aim was just a little off, since you were also holding a person with your other arm but you managed to hit his arm. The bullet just grazed him, your friend didn't have the same luck. You shot again, just to create some cover so you could move. It worked, you made it to the helicopter before he passed out from the blood loss. Sadly you couldn't heal him since the bullet was still there, so in tears as you took off you managed to stop his bleeding until you got help.

Of course your supervisor wasn't happy about you escaping earlier than expected or that you bought him along. But after some promises and insisting, they agreed not to let him die and took him to the closest headquarters. You knew the conditions they put on you were harsh but you thought nothing was worth more than his life, so you agreed. Even if it mean never seeing him again, why did it matter anyways? It's not like he wanted much to do with you after today.

A/N: Like I said on the notes on ao3, I'm sensitive and this is my first time posting what I write in a LONG time so have patience with me lol.

[grizztheexplorer]

MmmmMmmmm read chap 104 of how to get my husband on my side (manwha) and idk if i like the change from the novel????? This is the only change i dislike so far but idk how to feel about it

On one hand im glad its not a whole chapter of constant torture for Rubi, in the novel while she was standing up for herself it also sort of felt like she was still very much suicidal and just didn’t care even after her realization of deep love for Izek. I do like that in this manwha she’s not as careless but rather firm in what she is saying. She’s not laughing manically ready to die because she actually wants to spend her life with Izek. She’s sure on herself and simply telling him, no manic energy in it, that she’ll do everything in her power to fuck Cesar’s life if he kidnaps her AND makes it clear what he has comes from a feeling of inferiority and a power trip rather than love.

HOWEVER at the same time he barely touched her. The big moment in this chapter was everyone, including the og fl, realizing the rumors about incest and even the kiss they saw was rooted in a very violent abuse. An abuse mind you that the manwha hasn’t shy away from before this chapter (so why now?). It was a big reveal to see Rubi both stand her ground but also be almost killed for it. Having all the characters eat their words and realized rumors affected their judgement. Here Rubi was only pushed?????? They don’t really see the extent of her abuse??????? How she’s not really the precious princess???? Izek has seen it but not the others. Also it IS important for the rest of the story too how injured Rubi gets. She 1) needs help walking towards the dragon afterwards but can’t even see properly. 2) was unconscious many days afterwards which leads to her being taken care of and for the King and Duke (izek’s father) to be aware they truly have to politically react because they can’t brush it all to the side. Like feelings aside what happened was so violent and left such an after mark that they are FORCED to react politically.

Also og fl is so traumatized by the scene that while she doesn’t want to apologize she knows she has to. It sort of breaks reality for her (and her brother) but its also what made her connect to Rubi’s good brother (Enzo). (Only thing i do hope they change from the novel is that Enzo lives. I truly was upset he died. He truly cared for Rubi and she herself said thats the only person she considers family even without being sure he loved her. But he assured her he did). And ALSO Rubi being so violently hurt its also what causes Enzo to realize she was abused because he had no idea AND Rubi realizes Enzo had no idea and actually cares for her (because she thought he sort of knew but was indifferent about it).

Also everyone reacting to the scene and freezing BEFORE Izek attacks Cesar was also important??????? Rubi herself sees it before the attack happens.

Its just??? Underwhelming???? Its the culmination of the entire story even if it isn’t the last battle. Its when everything gets exposed and EVERYONE’S perspective changes, especially after they were disgusted by the kiss. Izek’s sister also realizes shit and not only feels guilt but truly starts to realize mental health issues Rubi shared with her mom are not something that primary hurts those around them, but they come from a place of deep hurt. Seeing the extent of Rubi’s trauma in a way makes her reflect of her own mom even if the mom didn’t share said trauma. Is seeing the physical representation of the hurt.

Like I didn’t want the chapter to be trauma porn at all, but even if they had skipped it and made it short, Rubi should have been a lot more hurt and we should have seen everyone’s reaction before Izek’s attack. There wasn’t even blood.

[a-sparrows-melody]

Mary On A Cross

His voice rasps, low and brittle, as if a strong gust of wind could break him now. "Why?" he asks. He is kneeling on the ground, shaking and trembling. His ragged and torn robes are only a reminder of what had once been—but even in this state, he looks so good.

A week with him could never be enough. He promised me last night that I would never have to do this. He promised he would kill himself before the battle ended, put up a show only for my allies. He promised me all of that. But me? I was selfish. I prevented him from dying in any way I could, and now I'm burned with the scars meant for him. I wanted him all to myself—but the Fates would never allow it. Either I kill him, or he kills me. That damned prophecy.

"Why?" he asks again when I remain silent. I'm not quite sure why I'm doing this, either. I'm a masochist. His expression now mirrors what I feel inside—disgust and fury and pity and love and everything in between. The wind picks up speed, and his brown hair blows haphazardly around his face, caked with mud and sweat. His ivory-colored linen robes are dirty and full of holes. I want to comfort him. Cherish him. I need to pay my price for having him.

I have him at my mercy, yet his brown eyes—so full of fractured hopes and emotions—hold level with my own, as if his defiance will save him this time. I blink, and his expression changes as fast as the wind switches directions. He is smug now, his chapped lips ticking up at the corner. I am anxious, so anxious, but I don't dare show it on my face, knowing this is the reaction he is looking for.

"Would you kill me? Would you kill me?" he mocks, tilting his head slightly, his eyes searching my face for a chink in the armor, any sort of affirmation—but he's scared too; I can see it. Stop looking so good, please, I need to kill you, please make it easier—but he won't. I know. Loving him was never easy; I can't imagine how killing him would be. His brown eyes stare at me, unblinking and confident—though I know he knows his time has come. At my hands. I hate you for doing this to me. I hate the prophecy. I hate everyone and everything.

And now I doubt whether he is at my mercy, or I am at his.

My arms are growing heavy; the adrenaline is wearing off. The battle exhaustion is catching up with me, and the cut on my side is throbbing painfully, blood trickling down. I feel woozy now. I have to make a decision fast—but I wish I didn't have to. I want to sit here, hold him, and die. I want him. I need him.

I need all I have in me to try to forget that I love him, but I can't. I need to finish this now. Before I lose my nerve. Before either he fulfills the prophecy, or I do. I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish he was mine.

"So weak. Look at you," he chuckles mirthlessly, breathlessly.

I really don't want to do this. I can't believe I have to make this choice. The things he promised me, our lives together, separate from this horrible world where I don't have to be the hero, seem like eons ago when it was only last night. I shudder, close my eyes, taking a long deep breath.

I'd once asked him why he wanted to raze the world. Start a new system, with him at the Head. Everyone deserves proper justice. And what he reasoned was true—corruption. Negligence. Racism. He was right. His family was a victim of this society, and he was right about it. But this isn't how you do it. Destroying the world doesn't make it better. I tried to tell him that. I argued with him, fought with him, yelled at him, but nothing could change his mind. In the end, I only asked him, broken and begging on the edge of his bed, to leave this to someone else. I didn't want him to die. I wanted him all to myself. I wanted him to leave it up to someone else so I wouldn't have to die.

Apparently, losing your entire family to murder and molestation could make anyone this villainous. I wouldn't know. I've never had family. But there should have been another way, another method.

The world or him? The world or my world? Why should I have to make this choice?

He told me, "No." And that was the moment I fell for him. His stupid stubbornness, his defiance and bravery and selflessness. Sure, he was flawed—but he was mine.

And I did so much. I tried to give my powers away so I wouldn't have to kill him. I tried to kill myself, but somehow I was always saved. I debated with him to do the same, but he wouldn't listen, thinking he was born for greatness. His ego got him in the end. He was doing the same thing that happened to him and his family. In trying to create a better world, he was destroying it. Bad things do not cancel out bad things.

The world or him? Caesar or Rome's democracy?

If I choose him, he'll burn the world.

If I choose the world, he'll burn me.

I'm willing to give myself up if it means the world isn't harmed.

I'm willing to kill him so he doesn't kill everyone else.

But I want him so bad—No. Not now. Now is the time to do what you were born for. Now is the time to save the world. Bad things do not cancel out bad things.

Finally, I open my eyes and I speak, my choice apparent.

"Your beauty never, ever scared me," my voice is wobbly and cracking at the end, and I want to cry right now, but I'm just so tired. I'm scared now, properly scared. I look at him, and he can see the decision in my eyes. He's resigned, given up, disappointed in me. I raise the sword above his chest, hesitating slightly—and then he nods, ever so little. Mocking me. As if saying, "Do it. It was all you were made for—to stop change. Do it while I'm happy. Change the world for me. You owe me that much." He's accepted his Fate, and I should probably accept mine too.

And then I plunge the sword into where his heart should be, while his face pulls up in a tiny smile, as if he knew this would happen.

What have I done?

"Only for you, my love," he croaks out as he finally gives up. His eyes never leave mine, welling with tears from the pain. There is an obnoxious ringing in my ears, and I am hyper-aware of all my wounds. My vision is zooming in and out, and I cannot focus. Not now, not now, not now.

It's too late. I fall to the ground, my knees banging painfully (although everything is painful now). I don't see the way he smiles at me, genuine and unwavering. I don't see the way his crimson blood stains his ivory robes, spreading like an infection. I don't see the way his eyes search for mine one last time.

What have I done?

I press my lips against his chapped ones, eyes shut so tight, looking for that little jolt of life, hoping he would know that I love him, I love him so much that when I killed him, I killed a part of myself so deeply intertwined with his that the pain would be equivalent to ripping my organs out one by one. I love him so much that I would be consumed by the fire of it if he wasn't my rain. I pull away, confused and bloodied. His expression doesn't change. His body is still warm. He still looks the same.

No! No! Please, no!

It doesn't quite register, what I've done. I am living in a haze, deluding myself into thinking his brown eyes still hold some emotion, no matter how glassy and inanimate they are. That his smile is private and only for me.

It doesn't quite register until I see my friends across the barren ground, stained with blood as I am, knotted, mangled hair and ripped clothes like mine, waving at me and smiling as if I hadn't just committed a sin.

I fulfilled the prophecy—that is my sin. I should have let him kill me. But I am selfish, selfish, selfish. I look back at him again. My eyes refuse to close.

No! Come back! Please! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

The grief washes over me, the haze around my brain turning red, cement filling around my lungs, and I can't breathe, knowing the full extent of my crime. I cannot live without him. I cannot.

I scream, pulling out whatever breath I have left in my lungs. What have I done? I scream until my throat refuses to comply and all my tears are dried, and I am spraying my snot everywhere. I'm pretty sure my friends ran toward me during this because I can feel one now, behind my shoulder, holding me, comforting me—I can't make out who because my eyes are filled with tears now.

"You killed him! What's the big deal? You saved us! You saved us all!"

That's the big deal. I killed him. Please, go away. I only want him.

But I know what to do. This is the only thing I am sure of.

I pull the sword out by its jeweled hilt. It comes out with a sickening sound, dripping blood and gooey organs. His face remains the same, his smile is horrific. I love him.

I press the weapon to my chest and stare at my friends, watching their expressions turn to horror. I'll be sorry to see them go.

"What are you doing? Put that thing down," my friend's voice is low and more dangerous than I've ever heard.

My friend tries to rip the sword out of my arms, but hell hath no fury like a man without his love. I'm strong now.

"No." My voice comes out cracked and soft.

"Dude, stop! Stop it! Why are you doing this? Do you not want to celebrate? Do you not want cake? Horses? Agatha! Agatha, come here!"

"No cake. I want him. I never liked Agatha. I love him."

"Him—the one you just killed? You're not making any sense! Dude, stop this nonsense!"

Nonsense, my friend says. But I want him. I'll have him. I'll defy the Fates. I'll do it.

"It's not nonsense. I loved him. I killed him."

"Dude, are you gay?" I don't bother answering.

I turn away. "Your beauty never, ever scared me," I whisper to him, too tired to speak, even though I know he can't hear me, and I am suddenly reminded of a memory.

My friend tries to take the sword from me again, but in my struggle to keep the bloody sword in my arms, I pull it close to my body, and my friend accidentally pushes the point in. I feel pain like never before. It blasts through me like a cannon, and my vision is gone. There is white all around, and some chirping sound in my ears. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, more pain envelops me. There is a shrieking sound in the air, and I can't feel or hear or see anything. I am being deatomized, one by one—it hurts so bad, I just want it all to end. Please, take it out! Take it out! Take it from me!

And in my last moments, when I am unsure of whether I am alive or dead, I see him. His face is lit up with happiness, colors, and love for me. But there is something else in his eyes—regret? Anger? Sadness? He is running toward me, and now he is holding me close against his warm chest, whispering that we are okay and he loves me, and it is all I can do not to bawl like a baby from the shock and pain of it all.

He pulls me closer and whispers in my ear, "You didn't change the world for me. You promised. You could have saved them—you could have saved them all. You had the power. How selfish."

Death comes toward me with its black robes billowing, and I want to run away from it. I want to burn the world for him—but I let him burn me.

How selfish, indeed.

-X-

I rewrote an older post of mine for refining it for a contest and I noticed so much potential that I just had to do what I did. I've never put so many emotions into one tiny fic and now I can't speak properly. I love morally grey hero x morally grey villains (I didn't include any names so you're free to imagine whatever and whoever you want to). 

Honestly, I didn't want the tiny twist at the end (I love my happy endings) but I felt it would be slightly necessary. Also I loved the friend cause your friend is literally trying to commit suicide and you ask him if he's gay. Priorities, brother. Priorities. 

How was it? Was it the most gut-wrenching, heart-breaking thing you've ever read? Please, I need to know - I'm submitting this for a contest (and honestly I'm just sadistic).

Okay, maybe this is getting too long. Any feedback?

@architectofsuffering (how is it?)

[agnesthecartoonfreak]

Let me take care of you

Chapter 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/agnesthecartoonfreak/738315553682391040/let-me-take-care-of-you

Chap 2:

Sick

⚠️Age gap, smut, dilf, powerplay⚠️

You were warned

(Also be kind. English is my second language. Next charapter I'll add my ilustrations to it :)

To add to Price's misery... he woke up feeling like shit

Congested nose, headache, feeling horribly weak and very cold. He never felt cold, never ever.

You wake up bringing him breakfast. You happily say

"Mornin Captain"

He coughs in response

"Mornin' love" he says with a weak smile

Your smile drops as you get in full nurse mode. Pulling out a thermometer and checking your temperature

"John? What's wrong? What are you feeling?"

His heart flutters at his name leaving your sweet lips. He explains his symptoms to you. You sit next to him in bed. You are caressing his chest while she gives you meds

Too soft...He can't stop himself from thinking that she would be amazing at handjobs

She pulls out the thermometer.

38° degrees celcius

Feverish

"Sorry captain. You are feverish"

He sighs looking extremely annoyed. You notice.

"What's that look on your face?"

You caress his hair a bit worried about his reaction. You were always too touchy for your own good. But for a touch starved man like price it was almost a siren's call

With needy eyes. He responds

"I hate being useless. Not moving, not working out, can't command troops. And today I'm also sick so I'm extra useless"

Your hand moves to his cheek. He leans in on your face as if he was asking to cuddle you

"Never say something like that again. You are Captain John Price. You are a living legend. We are lucky to work with you at 141. Even super heros have sick days"

The tought of her boosting your ego like this makes him blush. Also makes him a bit cocky. He thinks to himself if she has a crush on him. 'A sweet girl in her mid twenties crushing on a old bloke like you' he thinks. God he feels handsome

"C'mon luv. I'm just an old captain, my glory days are behind me" he says chuckling

" Should I remind that you overthrew a dictator 2 weeks ago?"

It's been 2 weeks since you guys met wow

"And now I'm stuck in bed" he responds

"Would you say I'm useless if I got sick?"

He thinks about it. Of course not, he would pamper you till you get better. Cook you those italian meals you love so much. He would cuddle you while watching netflix and when you were desperate for more attention he would cuddle fuck you while kissing your beautiful neck. Hearing you say how good he takes care of you. Giving your nipples slight pinches till you cry calling him daddy. He would breed you so your primal need for being filled would get satisfied

"John?" You bring him back to reality

Fuck not again

"Of course not. I would take care of you" he says without thinking, he blushes

You giggle.

"You are not a nurse" you laugh about his instant response

"It doesn't matter. I still care about you"

I slight blush cross your cheeks

"You are too sweet captain"

Oh dear... Maybe he should ask her to stop calling him by his rank... But it feels so sexy to him...

His mind wonders again. Would you like to receive orders in bed too? Calling him by his rank while begging him for his cum deep inside you? Would you let him punish you by bending you over his lap? Fingering and spanking your ass till you beg yo be fucked?

What a sight...

"Well... Is there anything I can do to mame you feel better?" Your voice brings him back from his daydreams

There is simply too much my love...

"Could you stay in the room with me? It's getting a bit lonely" You can see that the incident took a toll on his self esteem. He feels unwanted, even useless which is crazy to you

You lay down next to him and turns to face him

You two spend 1 minute in silence looking at each other.

She knows.... He thinks

How much he wants to devour her

"What is your favorite type of movie captain?"

He thinks how much he would love recording himself fucking you

"Action" he answers

"Predictable" you respond

Hmmm he loves brats

"What about you smart ass?"

"Thriller" she answers

Kinky

Does she also likes masked man?

"I would go for a thriller right now actually"

You go grab your controller on the edge of the bed. Giving him a perfect glimpse of your ass

Oh god...

She lays on his good shoulder and by instinct he wraps his good arm around her waist. There is something going on. Something unspoken.

Maybe Price is not the disgusting old man he thinks he is

A bit into the movie you go in the front door of his house receive the pizza you secretly ordered. He never let's you pay for anything

You show him the pizza. There is a huge smile across his lips

"You shouldn't..." still smiling

Than his smile drops. The pizza was big, big enough for both of them. One of those giant pizzas

"Y/N... how much was it?"

You giggle

"It was for free." You joke

"No I'm paying you back"

"I won't take your money" you say with a smug smile

"You are not gonna pay for anything anymore when I'm around doll" he responds

A wave of heat washes over your body. Why does it sound so hot when he says it like that?

"I-It's no big deal Jonh" you stutter

He can smell your excitement

"Doll... Your company is a blessing already. The least I can do is pamper you. Please let me pamper you..." The last sentence leaves johns mouth by accident.

Both of you are a bit to close

You hear the front door swing open

"Dad? Where are you for god's sake"

Oh fuck... One thing that jonh can't deny is that his daughter has the same narcisistic tendencies as his ex wife. Her visits can be intense

Y/N leaves the room to greet her politely.

"Hi Monica! How are you?"

"I don't have the time to talk to the nurse right now. DAD!" She screams

"Hey have some respect... I taught you better than this" Price says defensive

She rolls her eyes. Could you tell your nurse to go for a walk so we can talk alone?

It was cold

Y/N will never deny her patients privacy even if it is detrimental to her health

"I'll be back in an hour than"

You grab your coat

"Hey" Price calls you

You turn around

"Be safe. It's night time and it's freezing out there" he says with worry in his eyes

"I can take care of myself sir" you say gently leaving the house

Monica looks at Price with a death stare

"You fucking the nurse?"

Here we go again

"No. Monica have some fucking respect"

God you wanted to go back to your perfect moment

To be continued...?

(A/N: I am inspired in the last couple of days :3. Please leave comments if you can. I like feedback)

[penultimate-step]

Oshi no Ko 143 Reaction

This was a fun chapter. Ruby getting aggressive finally forcing Aqua to stop ignoring the problems in their relationship that have been simmering for 20 chaps now and actually have a conversation that puts it all out in the open. They're mostly saying stuff I predicted in advance, but some of it took me by surprise.

One bit that made me stand up and !!! was this page:

I thought I was doing something interesting when I compared Ruby's feelings towards Gorou to Aqua's feelings about Ai in my last two analyses but she just came out and said it directly on page, haha. I feel pretty validated.

I still stand behind most of what I wrote last week after this chapter. Ruby is desperately trying to make this a romance, but her best pitch is "I care about you in the same way we cared about idols in our past lives. Parasocially and without regard for the actual person, because I need to put somebody on an idealized pedestal or else I'll kill myself. This is what romance is, right?" Girl with so so so many issues, I love her.

The one thing that did really take me by surprise was the bit where she listed off Aqua's flaws as a person. In the past I assumed that Ruby was intentionally ignoring these flaws and making up a version of Aqua that didn't exist in her head. The way in her mind he's drawn like a romance hero and how she makes excuses for all the things she took issue with before lead me to believe she was intentionally distancing "Gorou, her idol" from "Aqua, the person, her brother" in her head. I'm not sure how to square this knowledge with the way she is (textually, now!) putting him on a pedestal. If I had to guess, I would think she actually is aware of who Aqua is as a person - she was friends with him as Gorou before and siblings for 18 years, she should know him better than anybody - but is intentionally separating this knowledge from the figure she is idolizing, because she needs to keep ahold of something for her mental stability.

I'm reminded of an analysis post of OnK ep 1 I read on tumblr almost a year ago, I forget who posted it so I can't properly credit it but it's not my own thoughts. (if anybody else remembers it please let me know so I can link it!) They contrasted Gorou's parasocial fan relationship with Ai to Ryosuke, the stalker who killed him: both put were fans of Ai, the Idol, but when confronted with the reality that she was more than an idol, that she had relationships and would have children, Gorou decided that the health and happiness of Ai the person was more important than his image of Ai the Idol, and did his best as a doctor to help her, while Ryosuke's reaction to having his image of the Idol shattered was to try and destroy Ai the person. The analysis put forth the idea that this was contrasting healthy vs unhealthy methods of being a fan - that there's nothing wrong with being a fan of someone, necessarily, but you have to keep in mind that you aren't entitled to anything about them, and there's always a real person underneath the performance.

I didn't fully agree with it - in my post about how the series portrays different kinds of love I talked about how it came down very harshly on dishonest and idolizing love - but I did think it was very interesting (obviously as I still remember it almost a year later). Anyway Ruby's approach to Aqua this chapter made me think of that a lot. She makes a big deal out of how Aqua is her idol, their relationship is idol/fan, and she can ignore all his flaws - but at the same time she points out that she does actually know what those flaws are. It puts her in something of a strange position. What would she do if her image of The Doctor, Her Idol, no longer existed, and she was left with just Aqua? Would she care for the person, or be mad at losing the illusion? According to this chapter she fits into neither of those, she chooses to pretend that the illusion still exists even while staring directly at the reality. Ruby seems aware that she is essentially using the idea of the doctor as a coping mechanism, but doesn't want to admit that this desire is directly in tension with the idea about caring about Aqua as a person, romantically or otherwise.

As for Aqua, it's great that he's finally being a little honest with his emotions and feelings after so long, to the one person who is really able to understand the context.

However, I think he's still holding a lot back, especially in the latter half of the chapter, because there are things he doesn't feel that he can say to Ruby, specifically about their relationship. He seems hesitant to directly tell Ruby that he can't be her lover or her idol, he can only be himself - even when he tries to tell her that he can't be the person he was she just brushes it off - and I think with how Ruby's mental health is holding on by a thread he is unwilling to do anything to jeopardize it, even if it means accepting the spot on her pedestal.

My read of the relationship between Gorou and Sarina 22 years ago was that they were genuine friends at the time. Regardless of difference in age and position they were both socially isolated people who found one person they felt they could be honest and open with. This makes their current relationship even sadder - Ruby has twisted the memory of their old friendship into dreams of romance and idolatry to fuel the desire to live one more day. Aqua, who in his last life would have been willing to do almost anything to get her to keep living, is forced to cut away his own relationship to her, both last life friend and current life brother, because being dishonest - being an idol - is the only way he can see to keep her alive and healthy. Both have already cut away most of their other bonds for the sake of the revenge plan, and now they can't even be fully honest with each other. Very tragic stuff.

All in all I really really liked this chapter. The interactions between Ruby and Aqua has always been multiple layers of relationships and mindsets existing on top of one another, and that just makes it super interesting for me. I love it whenever that leads to character tension. They've been friends and siblings and idols and all of that has to coexist, its a very unique kind of character writing that Oshi no Ko does well and I don't see very often and makes me care for the series a lot. I think I have a much more positive view of this arc than most of the fandom because the trainwreck of their relationship is one of the series highlights to me, so chapters like this, where exactly how bad their mindsets have gotten are placed as the main focus, are some of my favorite story beats.

I know there's a lot of negativity about this chap but I'm having a good time over here in my corner. Not sure if it's because I've been letting my thoughts about the series out in posts a lot more recently or because I liked this specific chapter a lot but this is definitely most I've been invested in the series for a while now. I think I was letting the Discourse kind of sour things for me and now I have mentally exorcised it from my mind.

[anxresi]

Brace yourselves, folks… We’re about to enter the dark, dreary and sometimes disturbing world which is Thomas Astruc on Twitter. 😧

Those possessed of a weak disposition, prone to nausea or an complete intolerance to utter bullshit may want to turn back now. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. (but still leave me a ‘like’, if you’re feeling generous 🙏)

Anyway, what ‘delights’ has this stand-up guy, this pioneer of mediocre cartooning, this dude on the cusp of arguing with little kids on Twitter been sharing with us, the great unwashed, at this present time? Let’s run through a brief checklist of the ‘highlights’, shall we?

*Telling people the upcoming Miraculous movie is what the fans ‘want’ but the show is what we ‘need’ (whatever THAT means, typically modest reaction from the epitome of humbleness himself).

*Saying that anyone who DARES criticise the show should ‘keep it to themselves’ or they’ll be ‘blocked for spreading negativity about the artists’ (dude thinks he can police Twitter… good luck with that!)

*Informing fanfiction writers that their work is ‘pointless’ and the only people who know what they’re doing are him and his team (If you mean ‘How To Destroy A Franchise In Five Easy Seasons… I guess he’s right)

But his favorite topic (seriously, check out his replies… we’re talking more than 50% here) concerns a fictional teenage girl he constantly decries but can’t seem to get enough of moaning about. It is of course… oh let’s face it. You know the answer to that one already. ROLL THE TWEETS!!

Yep, you guessed it. Apart from the OP being uncommonly accurate in their opinion, now apparently ‘Chloe’ has become The Not-So-Great Bearded One’s new insult of choice for anyone who dislikes what’s been done to the show. Poor ‘Karen’ never stood a chance… 😢

What a mature, grown-up type chap he is! I have no idea why he’s no longer referred to as ‘Hawk Daddy’ in polite circles, and instead called ‘Man Baby’. Just look at him, REALLY giving it a bunch of teens on Twitter who DARE imply his show is nothing but da best! You go, Thomas! Go change your dirty diaper, that is. 🤢

So, abandoning all her subtleties and nuance , reducing her to a shrieking monster and choosing to actively give characters who have arguably done FAR WORSE throughout the series much better endings means they ‘wrote it well’? Gosh, maybe getting an F in English stands for ‘Fabulous’ after all!

Guess in Thomas’s somewhat warped worldview, everyone who doesn’t like 💯 of his show from top to bottom should be placed on a plane with their main abuser to be forcibly deported and probably tortured for the rest of their sorry lives. That’ll teach them!

And who cares about stupid stuff like ‘build-up’ or ‘character-development’ if they genuinely were preparing Chloe for… what was that thing he described it as again… a ‘damnation’ arc? Let’s just flip a switch at the end of S3 to turn her into a pathetic caricature of her worst excesses without explanation, then introduce a ‘perfect’ sister out of nowhere to throw all those undesirable traits into sharp relief! And that’s not even getting into that detestable retconning flashback episode… What an absolutely fantastic idea to make everyone hate her as much as Thomas does!

No-one will notice the sudden incongruity here… after all, the average age of their audience is 5-8 so if they just throw excrement like crazed baboons about Chloe at the young audience time and time again caveman-style CHLOE: BAD. EVERYONE ELSE: GOOD the kids will chow it up like cheap chocolate ice cream! The older ones that do kick up a fuss? Who gives a ****. They don’t buy the merchandise, and where would all those hard-working producers if it wasn’t for all that cheap plastic crap?

With considerably less cars, swimming pools and exotic holidays to hard-to-pronounce destinations, that’s where! Let’s keep that bandwagon of shit a-rollin’… 🤑

Ah, now I believe this is that classic tactic otherwise known as ‘gaslighting’. When you say something as a fact over and over again, when the opposite is clearly true. Those of lesser willpower may start to accept it as reality while others (mostly those with functioning eyes, ears and brains)… won’t.

You know who was also good at that gaslighting thing, don’t you? A few clues… A Former (thank God) President? Very orange? Initials DT? Yep, that guy.

…And coincidentally, someone Thomas has been known to compare Chloe (14 year old girl, let’s not forget) to regularly. I mean, with THAT kind of accolade hanging over her head from the guy who created her, how could she ever fail?

See? What a great influence he is on the young too! Now he’s got his own handpicked gang of sycophants out of the street labelling anyone with the slightest complaint from a)pointing out the animation was slightly better last season or b)saying they miss the old transformation sequences as a ‘Chloe’. I think we’ve found his new favorite insult, and it’s the worst word he can possibly think of. Figures.

I bet he’s putting together a petition as we speak, for an official entry into the dictionary. Fortunately, there’s already one for ‘Thomas’, as in ‘Doubting Thomas’… someone who talks so much nonsense you should disbelieve anything they say. Or Thomas The Tank Engine, because whenever you mention a certain Blonde’s name in his presence, he tends to blow steam, look very heated and… you get the picture. 😆

On top of everything else, now he’s issuing threats. I have to hand it to him though… that’s a pretty good one. NO PLEASE TAKE MY MONEY MY LIFE I’LL EVEN GIVE YOU A FOOT RUB A BACK RUB AND LEARN TO LOVE ZOE ANYTHING BUT THAT NNNNNNOOOOOO….

Seriously guys, we need an immediate intervention. THIS CANNOT BE ALLOWED TO HAPPEN. I’m about to book an emergency flight to France, to barricade him in his office until he promises to never again even entertain the notion of… this. Who’s with me?

(And incidentally while I’m there, does anyone want me to pick them a souvenir? A beret? Frog legs soup? One of those miniature replicas of the Eiffel Tower? Let me know by tomorrow at the latest, and I’ll see what I can do) 😊🇫🇷

[betterthanyalls]

Wssppp this is like uhh day 5 or 6? I really REALLY love this one. I am obsessed with Sammy i love him so much. He is so hot, I will go on a rant of him. My irl friends are annoyed with how much I talk abt him. Neways onwards!!!🫶🫶🫶🫶

Sammy Lawrence x Reader

Smell of pines

Published: 12-9-2023

Words: 674

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ringing of the bell signaled someone entering the shop. Or two someones, should I say.

Chatting away, Y/n and her boyfriend, Sammy, walked into a local plant shop. It was Christmas season and Y/n had begged Sammy to come with her shopping for decor. And even though they have been together for what seemed like forever, which was only 3 years; Sammy still got flustered from her(Though he would never admit it).

When a break hit their conversation, Y/n took a deep breath of the floral life around her. Exhaling with a smile, she turned to Sammy.

“Do you smell that?”

Sammy inhaled through his nose for a second before exhaling immediately after. “Yeah, what about it?”

“What’s it smell like to you?” Y/n asked curiously, she always had a knack for wanting to know everything. And that knack of hers was multiplied tenfold when she started dating Sammy, she wanted to know everything about him. At first, this weirded Sammy out; but now it’s a second nature to tell Y/n anything she wanted to know. He loved that goofy smile she’d get when she learned something new.

So, putting on a teasing smile, Sammy said, “It smells like employees hating their lives.”

Y/n gave him the most impassive look she could muster.

“I was talking about the smell of pine trees.”

Sammy just shrugged and walked away from her, knowing she’d follow. “Same difference.”

“Wha- No it’s not! Pine is a much more nostalgic and happy smell rather than whatever ‘Employees hating their lives.’ smells like!” Y/n chased after her boyfriend.

Once she found him, the two went back to the most random topics that came along the way. After shopping for a bit, Y/n picked out a nice looking wreath. Whereas, unbeknownst to Y/n, Sammy bought a mistletoe and had a plan.

Finally leaving the store, the two got into their shared car; with Y/n in the passenger and Sammy driving, he didn’t trust her driving skills after she almost ran off the road and then accidently whipped the car with people behind them.

Sammy began to drive to their shared apartment. On the way, Y/n turned on the radio and Christmas music flooded the car. As the previous song ended, one of Y/n and Sammy’s favorites came on and the two immediately began to sing along to the duet.

“I really can’t stay…”

“Baby it’s cold outside.”

“I’ve got to go away…”

“Baby it’s cold outside.”

“This evening has been…”

“Hoping that you’d drop by.”

“So…very nice.”

“I’ll take your hands, they're just like ice.”

The two sang on and on until the song ended, arriving home right on time too. Sammy drove the car to the apartment parking lot and put it in park.

While Y/n was turned in her seat to get the wreath from the back seats, Sammy hung the mistletoe on the rearview mirror.

When Y/n turned back, she saw the mistletoe hanging up. She looked over to Sammy, about to ask where the mistletoe came from. But before she could, she was cut off by a pair of warm, soft lips meeting her cold, chapped ones.

Even though they have kissed countless times before, Y/n couldn’t help but become flustered and thoughtless each time Sammy kissed her. Even a small forehead peck could get her to smile and giggle like a schoolgirl.

Slowly, the kiss broke, giving the two lovebirds some air. Sammy leaned away from her, watching for her reaction. She always made him smile with her reactions to his kisses.

Y/n’s face was firetruck red, she was burning up so much that she thought she had a fever.

Not being able to form words, she simply looked away from Sammy and stared at the windshield in front of her.

Sammy merely laughed at her flustered expression.

Little did they know, the universe had intertwined Sammy and Y/n’s hearts so that they may be together forever.

[shitpostingiris]

Ok you guys I caved😭 I’m writing a COD fic. I don’t have much but here’s a little snippet. Pleaseeeee reblog or comment if you want this to be an actual story. It’s not MUCH but I have an interesting idea on what I want to write. This will be published on ao3 mainly bc some of the chapters will be long as fuck

——————————————————

Ash sat bound and chained to a chair, her head bowed before the men in front of her. Feeling the thick blood trickle down her face, the cuffs rubbing her wrists raw and bloody, the sedative they drugged her with still coursing through her veins. Even after the hours of the tortuous interrogation that left her soaked in her own blood. She knew well how she ended up in this hellish situation. The only wish she had at this moment was to go back to the peaceful life she had before the 141, the organization, the experiment, the massacre. All of it. She knew they were going to kill her, that was a certainty in her mind. Yet she was not afraid. Death never scared her even when she was young. Only hoping they’d grant her a swift and painless end.

She lifted her head as she felt the warm calloused hand grip her chin softly, yet commanding. Letting her eyes fall onto the man who decided to break the tense bitter silence. Captain John Price. A man she once learned to trust with her life. She looked into his eyes, and saw a hint of regret flash through his piercing blue eyes as he looked at her bruised bloody tear stained face. “Where is the bomb Hazard? Just tell us and we can stop this…please” She couldn’t help the small pathetic laugh that escaped her busted lips. A call sign she used to wear with pride. Perplexed how Price could still refer to her as the name he bestowed upon her and even say please to her. At this moment she was their enemy. Yet they had betrayed her first. This was their payback she decided. She let her head fall back, ripping her face out of Price's hold.

Letting silence fall into the room again for a few seconds before she spoke, licking her chapped lips, the metallic taste of her own blood falling onto her tongue. “Here’s what they don’t tell you. Icarus laughed as he fell. Threw his head back and yelled into the winds, arms spread wide, teeth bared for the world. There’s a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring. The wax scorching his skin, ran blazing trails down his back, his thighs, his ankles, his feet. Feathers floated like prayers past his fingers , close enough to snatch back. Death breathing burning kisses against his shoulders. Where the wings joined the harness. The sun painted everything in shades of gold….. There is a certain beauty in setting the world on fire and watching from the center of the flames.”

She leaned her head forward, hot tears pricking at her eyes once again. Threatening to fall as she gazed upon the men she thought would have saved her. “Falling is not the problem; when I’m falling I am at peace. It’s only when I hit the ground that it causes all the grief. I loved you all, just as Icarus loves the sun.” Pausing for a moment as she felt the tears began to cascade down her face, her voice breaking at the end. Sorrow filling her words “Too close and Too much. These violent delights have such violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder. Which, as they kiss, consume.”

She felt the anger, she once felt constantly. A rage she thought would never come back. A rage these men calmed. Bubble back up inside her. Gritting her teeth she glared at the men “So, bird boned boy—Bad blooded Icarus boy, A riddle that is. What do you call the monsters, who’ve made a living off your bones?” In her brief silence none of the men spoke.

She looked at them with tear filled eyes. Paying close attention to their faces looking for any emotion she could see breaking through their stoic presence. She took a long breath before continuing not liking the silence the men held between them anymore she wanted a reaction “Everyone knows the story of Icarus. Who Daedalus warned not to fly too near to the sea, nor too close to the sun. Have caution, they are saying, because when they tell you this story they are Daedalus and you are Icarus. Have Caution, I am saying, because when I tell you this story you all are Icarus and I am the sun.”

She could see some of the men’s walls finally break as she spoke. Her voice scratchy and strained. Seeing regret, sadness, and anger flashing through their faces like a whirlwind. The tears hadn’t stopped spilling from her bloodshot eyes just yet. “You all wanted me to be something I could never be. I am a created monster you knew that. I was trained to be this monster, I am a rabid dog. And once a dog goes rabid What do you do?” She paused locking eyes with the captain. Fury filling her cold gaze

“You put it down.”

[momo-wants-siesta]

THE BASTARD OF CAMELOT [REVIEW]

-PART 1-

I been told to start with this one. "The bastard of Camelot" by "Llamagirl" in itch.io, using twine.

So another Arthurian IF, nothing new, nothing original, but with the diference that we get to play as Mordred, it seems.

I must admit that I am curious to see how this story unfolds.

If done well, it can always be an interesting perspective, living the story through the eyes of the supposed villain or outcast.

Without further ado, let's get down to business (Spoilers included)

PROLOGUE

Well flowery prose is going to be a thing, but I don't see as something necesarily bad.

We start with the scene of a Morgana, girlbossing the whole court of Camelot, because she can. Let's assume that the baby she's carrying is Morded, who will be the MC, but the scene serves quite well as a prologue. It's fun to see Arthur's reactions, possibly questioning his life, and the fact that a hottie made him go full Alabama, without realizing it.

Let me tell you that I must break a lance in favor of King Arthur here. Okay, the guy was hot as balls, but that doesn't justify that Morgana knew very well what she was doing. I hope the game doesn't try to justify this. So the one who screwed up was Uther, not Arthur. But well, I'm seeing that she'll be a great mother by now.

So basically, the kid will not be reconigzed, yadda yadda. It's me or we gonna have a Evil Merlin this time? Well, I look forward to it, once again. It may be interesting.

I don't know what are the author intentions, but Arthur looks like a good chap to me. I mean it seems the game is gonna take an actual quite realistic approach to the whole political thing, which I'm already grateful for already. Too many if go into weird cartoonish systems, or the typical "peasants are dumb" by default. So I can understand the whole "let's hide the kid identity"

Morgana is not exactly winning many points with me, she is almost hysterical. Like, lady pls calm down, and think of your child.

But we need the drama. Give to us.

I mean, okay I can understand she is angry, Uther was a complete asshole, but hell how is this Arthur's fault? The man wasn't even there. Like seriously my woman.

Tbh I never been a fan of the Sins of the father, unless the child are like 100% okay with what the parent did, and doesn't seem to be the case. And now we even get prophecy time. MC is totally gonna fuck over Camelot they say.

Chapter 1 & 2

Okay so get start at 6 years old. Tender age with mommy dearest explaining stuff to us.

Well I gotta say that what this IF is doing right, is basically writing a child properly. And in the IF world that's not a easy feat. The smol Mordred is annoying, so this means the author is doing a great job.

I knew Morgana would give me my vibes. Woman is hellbend on this useless revenge of his, to the point of ignoring her own child wishes. I should have expected that. Let's have a child to use them as a tool, what can go wrong.

Well it good to see that Junia's doesn't seem to agree with Morgana's bullshit. Well I'm Junia right now, I don't dislike Morgana at all, but woman what the heck are you doing.

Oh heck yeah, I'm not letting see your father, but I'm gonna abandon you at 6 for a fucking month, because my delusions are more important. Talk about motherly priorities here.

Good to know she is fucking the knight.

I feel bad for Mordred tbh. Lesons at 6. Man that's rough. Let the smol child go outside and play. They have rights.

Oh but of course "mind controlling" is seen as something positive by Morgana. This woman is far gone, I tell you.

You know you may be fucking up, when even your friend questions your bullshit.

Too much skin options for my taste, but hey, hurray for customization.

Once again, it's good to know Morgana has been shit talking Arthur to their own child. WOMAN PLEASE STOP. Ofc Junia is here to save the day. Like I'm sure the man ain't perfect, but hell. That's an ass move.

You can't never have a fantasy history, without the local "church" being assholes.

I like the Merlin child. She is cool. Looks quite mature.

So now we are finally going to the continent, and of course all mother dearest can think about is, CONQUERING THE PLACE.

It's good to know that we got another father, that we don't know about EITHER.

Well a bit of bullying and a bit of roughing. Just another afternoon. It's time for some fireworks I guess.

I love Morgana enabling the violence.

OKAY NANA IS THE MOST BASED CHARACTER, SHE GETS IT.

So there was another child. This woman is literally trying to take children to Avalon ignoring the parents. Someone call Arthurian social services. We got a grave case here.

So, you isolated your child, and now you want them to be friends with the other child. Oh yes, nothing wrong here.

We gotta meet our dragon, wowie time.

FINAL TOUGHTS

Okay I gotta admit this have been a good read. I didn't notice I was finishing chapter 2 already.

The prose is flowery but it's easy to read too, and I'm must admit that I like how the character are getting fleshed out (The main ones at least) it's good to see everybody has a different valid perspective. The customization options were entertaining, but they don't seem to affect the narrative, or at least not yet.

It's good that I didn't get a lore dump, the author seem to be taking the "show don't tell" at heart, which is something positive, specially on a fantasy setting.

So In general, I look forward to see how it gonna go from there. I hope there's a timeskip, no matter hoe well written, being a kid can get boring.

I can't wait to be able to interact with the Camelot knights and Arthur himself, and see which options are avaible.

And with this, I finish the first part of the review.