#simply because that was such a dumb joke

[menacingmonty]

(first time posting my art on tumblr and boy i'm wayyy too nervous about it!!!! aaaaaaa) i saw this meme on pinterest ages ago and it immediately made me think of knuxouge / the rouge + knuckles dynamic in general hehe. i just had to draw it,..,,.,. as always i meant to just do a silly doodle but im incapable of Not Being A Total Perfectionist w my art so i rendered her a lil.

oh rouge how i adore you and your echidna bf <33

alt version without filter + the og photo below the cut!!!!

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

If I wrote a time travel au (Jon and Martin go back in time to first season archives after 200) where because of future intervention there’s a lot less trauma, and with less horrors to worry about past Jon begins to question his gender and starts experimenting with it- and it freaks future Jon out because ‘what tf do you mean I’m trans and never figured it out because Trauma????’

Would anyone read it?

[ismyteadoneyet]

bro getting myself an audhd assessment for the sole reason of making the rest of my family realize that THE HAVE IT THEMSELVES is getting more and more tempting by the fkn day I SWEAR TO GOD

[lil--nuggett]

(warning: this clip can be a bit loud, i made sure to make it quieter when editing it, but i figured i'd warn you just in case)

this is one of the dumbest things i think i've ever edited, even though it's from like a year ago and i just never posted it for some reason lmao

[tariah23]

Now he’s trying to lie when he literally tagged Princeton like 5 fucking time. White people are so evil, bro. They always know what they’re doing when they do shit like that. With the attempt to bring harm to Black people who they want to “get out of the way,” because they don’t think that we belong in the same spaces as them while at the same time, believing they should be allowed INTO our spaces and afforded hospitality and a whole red carpet rolled out. The sad thing is, she has connections to the industry because of her uncle and name so what if this was just a random Black woman who worked for Princeton without this kind of protection at all…?

[wroetolando]

𝙾𝚏𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚈𝚘𝚞 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗮/𝗻: hey guys! so sorry I haven’t been posting recently. I’ve been super busy with school with finals and graduation coming up! will be a lot more stories being posted during my spring break! april 7-11!

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x chronically online! reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where the chronically online reader gets publicly exposed by lando, roasts him on stream, and swears they’d never fold

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: cloud 9 - beach bunny

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You had a reputation. Not in a bad way—at least, not to you. Some people called you “chronically online,” but that was just a fancy way of saying you were really, really good at the internet. You were the first to catch onto memes before they went mainstream, you knew every streamer’s latest drama, and your Twitter feed was a masterclass in unhinged yet somehow lovable posts.

Lando, however, did not fully understand the depths of your internet obsession. He was online, sure, but in a different way—his world was filled with F1 updates, Twitch streams, and the occasional chaotic group chat with his fellow drivers. Meanwhile, you lived in a universe where knowing whether a brand was about to get canceled was as essential as breathing.

And yet, somehow, he was absolutely in love with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

It started with a joke. Or, more accurately, it started with a tweet.

@yourhandle: “if lando norris ever called me babe i would simply evaporate”

He saw it. He saw it, and you knew he saw it because his little gremlin self had the audacity to like the tweet. He didn’t reply, didn’t quote it—just a simple like that sent your notifications into a frenzy.

Your friends went feral.

BESTIE, HELLO??

Did he just acknowledge your existence???

This is basically a marriage proposal.

You tried to act normal. Failed. DMed him something casual like, “did you just publicly expose me?”

To which he responded:

“Just testing a theory. Should I call you babe and see what happens?”

And that was the beginning of the end.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

It wasn’t long before you found yourself in Lando’s world—whether that meant sitting on his stream, half-distracted while scrolling your phone, or joining his Discord calls just to roast his gaming skills. The internet loved your dynamic.

“Lando getting cyberbullied by his own girlfriend is my Roman Empire.”

“Y/N being a menace online and Lando just going along with it is peak relationship goals.”

“Her: ‘He’s so dumb but he’s my dumbass.’ Him: ‘I just work here, man.’”

You two were a content goldmine, even when you weren’t trying to be.

One particular night, you were both curled up on the couch, Lando setting up for a Twitch stream while you scrolled mindlessly through your phone. You weren’t paying attention until you heard your own voice.

“Guys, I have a very special guest today,” Lando said in his usual mischievous tone. “My girlfriend, who is currently ignoring me for Twitter.”

You didn’t even look up. “That’s crazy. What’s Twitter saying?”

Chat immediately erupted.

“SHE DIDN’T EVEN LOOK UP LMFAO.”

“Peak chronically online behavior.”

“Lando, blink twice if you need help.”

Lando fake pouted. “See? She doesn’t love me, chat. She loves her parasocial relationships more.”

You finally glanced at the screen. “Why would I need a parasocial relationship when I already have you to annoy in real life?”

The clip went viral within minutes.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Despite all your time spent online, you did, in fact, exist in the real world. And the more time you spent with Lando, the more you realized how much you liked his world too.

There was something peaceful about watching him work on his racing sim, focused and determined, even when he was grumbling under his breath about understeer. There was something nice about walking into the McLaren garage and seeing how the team operated, how much they adored him.

And there was something absolutely dangerous about the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

Like right now.

You were at a race weekend, standing just outside his driver’s room, eyes glued to your phone. He was supposed to be reviewing data, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Lando,” you said without looking up, “why are you staring at me like that?”

He didn’t even try to deny it. “I think I’ve figured out how to get you off your phone.”

That made you look up. “Oh? Do tell.”

A smirk curled at his lips. “No.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No?”

Instead of answering, he took two long strides forward, gently plucking your phone from your hands and placing it on the nearest table. Before you could protest, he had you backed up against the wall, his hands resting on either side of you.

Oh.

Oh, he was serious.

“Lando,” you said, a little breathless, “are you—”

“I like your little internet world, I do,” he murmured, voice warm and teasing. “But sometimes I think you should focus on this world. On me.”

You swallowed. “That so?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And right now, I want your undivided attention.”

Mission accomplished.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You weren’t going to lie—you had expected the internet to roast you once they realized that your whole brand was being chronically online, and yet Lando had somehow turned you into a simp.

And they did roast you.

“So you’re telling me Y/N was ‘if he calls me babe I’ll evaporate’ and then Lando hit her with a real-life slow burn fanfic moment???”

“POV: You thought she was a keyboard warrior but she’s actually a simp in disguise.”

“Lando pulled a ‘look at me, I’m the main character now.’”

Lando, of course, thrived off the reactions.

You were sitting next to him on the couch when he turned his phone toward you. “Look at this one—‘Y/N has spent her entire internet existence roasting men, and yet all it took was one good wall pin for her to fold.’”

You glared at him. “I hate you.”

He grinned. “No, you don’t.”

You groaned, shoving his face away playfully before burying your head in your hands. “I will never live this down.”

He pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Nope. Never.”

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to check your phone.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[somewhereincairparavel]

a huge chunk of the pjo fandom has turned into such a superficial, judgemental and PROBLEMATIC group who defeat the purpose and point that the books were trying to make, it's so fucking atrocious. the prime example of mischaracterizing/reducing the value of characters who are already misunderstood/misjudged in canon. this fandom does this to every.single.character.ever omg

percy jackson is so relatable to many people is because he didn't have to capacity to absorb textbook knowledge but was HIGH on street smart knowledge that got him to succeed. the whole point of his character is that he had low self esteem because he was ridiculed at school by the faculty and the students for being a 'dumb' and 'useless' guy that made him think he's an inconvenience to his mom. the baggage he carried is so overlooked.

the fandom saying stuff like 'annabeth had adhd and dyslexia too but she carried percy' is so fucking disrespectful. one, she's an athena kid who's supposed to be smart that's like the whole point, and that does NOT mean percy wouldn't survive without her. he's a DIFFERENT character and he doesn't need to be a scholar to be a powerful demigod who has his own identity. stop belittling him and comparing all of their adhd/dyslexia struggles. just because annabeth is smarter does NOT mean percy has less value than her, and that whatever comes out of his mouth is just silly gibberish, which is exactly what y'all are trying to imply. no he did NOT get by with just "luck" he's smart and capable enough to actually achieve things. It isn't rocket science.

making jokes like his only purpose is to have a goofy personality and wondering how he 'pulled' annabeth is NOT cute whatsoever. just deprives him of his canon developement and fails to recognise him as an important person because he is not book smart. the level of belittlement. in a way rick also contributes to this character assassination because he added another scene of piper saying something along the lines of 'thank god annabeth is there to keep percy from going wild/doing something stupid' like no miss girl

I could go on about how the fandom infantilizes nico, brushes of hazel's flaws/traits because she's a 'smol' bean (when she literally cusses out octavian, why do y'all hate the idea of her being bold/badass when she literally is??) belittling frank's power because he's 'just an innocent goof', saying stuff like 'in my head leo is a tall guy because rick did him dirty with the height when he is so hot' that's basically implying that he loses his attractiveness because he's short and wanting to confine him into those toxic masculinity standards

slandering rachel and calling her a pick me for liking annabeth as though annabeth already had a claim over percy in BOTL when he wasn't even in a relationship and even had a small liking to rachel (belittling BOTH rachel and percy in the process, is percy not allowed to have feelings too? is he only obligated to like annabeth?), also with the fandom's clear misogyny in their treatment of nico liking percy vs rachel liking percy, go on a moral policing hunt when it comes to jason, piper and percy but goes right ahead to defend and glaze luke's behaviour to annabeth, percy and silena (also victim blaming silena because she was manipulated as a teenager by a fully grown adult who KNEW what he was doing, using her)

stubbornly not wanting to recognise jason as an important character and reducing him into a 'whiney pick me guy who wanted everything to be about himself' and that he's 'boring' not realising that his abusive environment both as a baby and as a teenager suppressed him into struggling and not being able to feel worthy to even have feelings of his own, villianizing and getting on pipers throat for calling percy unimpressive simply because she LOVED and was LOYAL to her then boyfriend?? is she not allowed to have a preference??? heck id be more concerned if she did call percy hot whilst being in a relationship wtf.

and DONT get me started on the grover belittlement and erasure please, saying that percy and grover are only annabeth's 'sidekicks' on quests, as though he wasn't capable to go on a hunt for pan all by HIMSELF not knowing he'll ever be back.

[cherie-doll]

Jealousy Headcanons for cod men when they notice someone from you work place (a man) is starting to get a little too close/friendly with you to their liking🥹

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They're Jealous

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

۶ৎ Not sure if you wanted these to be with established relationships or not so i just threw it in a bag, mixed it and got this; some are and some aren't

Price

It's probably nothing new for him to deal with, he was doing this before y'all even became a couple, keeping guys away from you

You're just the type of person most people find themselves naturally being attracted to after spending time together

He takes care of you so well, spending the moments he has spared and set aside just for you making sure you've got everything you need that it makes him irritated seeing someone else trying to replace him

They don't know you like he does, you don't gravitate or find yourself leaning towards them searching for comfort like you do with Price

And to show or add to your disinterest in this person he'll just use the intimidation tactic, wouldn't need to say much, just a simple look or stare communicates the message

Ghost

Simon recognizes he shouldn't even feel this smoldering fire growing within him

You're simply the cashier that he finds the least annoying because you're on minimum wage and could care less about appealing to customers

But he doesn't like the looks your manager gives you every time he passes by, his jokes and attempts at flirtation are lame, even Simon cringes

Late at night, the hour before you close Simon comes in for last minute grocery shopping, it's just you and the manager, you stocking inventory near the back of the store, you sending shy glances in Simon's way, only to be interrupted by the pestering manager who doesn't seem to get a clue

His looming figure behind the manager who turns around, spooked and sputtering out a dumb question, asking if he needs something only for Simon to drop the bomb that you're his girlfriend and he needs to leave you alone

You may have felt a fluttering feeling in your heart that had you blushing in the storage room afterwards

Soap

Another friends with a blurred line where it's not distinct whether there are feelings or not, both of you too afraid to ask or confess

But it becomes all too clear when you're ranting to him about some guy who won't leave you alone and next thing you know his face is red, eyes set hard and looking far off

He's spent so long memorizing your favorite things, getting to know you, being your comfort and he just won't let someone else come and swoop you away when they barely know a thing about you, what if they only like you for your looks?

He stops himself at some point, feeling his heart thumping faster than it should, becoming all too aware that these feelings aren't normal between people who are just friends

And you know what? He's fine with that, he'll confront and come to terms with his feelings AFTER he takes care of something or someone that's in the way

Gaz

He won't hesitate at all to confront the person about it, doesn't matter whether you want his help or not

He doesn't get possessive nor claim you as his, but he doesn't appreciate someone getting too comfortable with you, it unnerves him

Would never place the blame on you, nor think you were liking the attention, he knows you probably thought them a friendly person until they crossed a line

Just imagine him holding your hand and kissing your forehead, you snuggling into him as he just says it's all taken care of and you think you wouldn't have to worry about going to work and dealing with that person anymore until he says he sent in your resignation letter

His tone doesn't even change so you probably wouldn't catch it at first, but maybe it's for the better!

On the bright side, you wouldn't deal with such bothersome people anymore

Roach

Roach boy gets sad, then a little mad and takes to trying to come up with all sorts of way to get rid of this dude

You find him up late at night tacking up bullet points on this board that has been scrawled over

You spend the rest of the night cradling his head in your lap, running your fingers through his hair trying to comfort him and listening to him rant all teary-eyed

Rubbing him in circles and just humming and nodding along like "mhm" to everything he says, it makes you mad knowing something like this set him off

So the next day you tell your junior off for inappropriate workplace behavior, you're fueled by seeing your boyfriend get hurt over it and he actually witnesses it happen and is all shy afterwards and you can't seem to figure out why until you discover he has a thing about you being dominant

Alejandro

Oh, he seethes at the thought of it

Seeing this guy hand over you all the time even when he's right THERE, probably ticks him off even more when you come over to him with such a sweet smile when only a minute ago you were giving it to someone else

He's not necessarily pissed off at you, but it just gets him all riled up and he looses his rational mind

"Tell him to stop looking at you like that"

"Alejandro, I can't just tell him that!"

"Then stop looking so nice for him"

And if you don't take care of the problem then he'll do it himself even after you swear he's making a big deal out of nothing

Rudy

I can't imagine doing this to him i would cry-

You're trying so hard not to cause a misunderstanding and Rudy notices that but can't help being upset at this guy for not respecting you

He can't help but be worried for you every time he drops you off for your shift, his lingering hand on your arm as he pulls you in for a goodbye kiss for the day

Tries to hold you in the car as long as he can till you give him a smile that makes his heart do flips and assure him it'll be fine, but throughout the day he finds himself unable to stop thinking about the situation, so at around your lunchbreak he stops by

He walks in to see the coworker you told him not to worry about standing a little too close for his comfort

So Rudy just walks over and as soon as you see him your face lights up and you go right over to him and give him a sweet kiss as he hands you your lunch :)

Phillip Graves

Oooh, he would NOT let it slide

"Doesn't he know you've got a husband?"

"Phillip, calm down he's not asking me out or anything"

"But he wants to"

Phillip swears he's not misreading this guy, he must have other intentions if he lingers around you too much

You try to keep him calm before he tries to order an execution on the guy, if you've ever put a stop to his displays of affection in public before he's throwing that out the window and not holding back

That quick peck you give him? That's too chaste now, give him a DEEP kiss before he escalates it by grabbing both sides of your head and pressing harder against you until your coworker backs away

"Bastard better stay away, else I'll-"

"Okay, I think you've made your point Phillip"

If it doesn't work out, TRUST he will confront the guy in a dark parking lot and next time you're on your shift and wonder where the new guy is because he's late for his shift only for your boss to tell you he just quit

Makarov

FIRST, he'll pretend like he doesn't notice it, but he very obviously gives himself away

He'll be picking you up from work, because with the weather and all he doesn't want you to risk catching a cold, and when you walk out, your coworker who just so happens to clock out at the same time as you despite his shift ending an hour earlier than yours but he stayed behind hoping to walk with you

His eyes just stare at this guy through the black tinted car windows which cannot be seen through from the outside yet your coworker shivers making you believe it's this evening autumn air

Coworker is a bit disappointed and surprised when he sees you get into NOT THE DRIVER'S but the passenger seat of this expensive looking car because he was hoping to walk w/ you

Makarov doesn't even let you wave before he steps on that pedal, leaving the poor guy coughing in a cloud of smoke

THEN, it's obvious despite you telling him you barely interacted with this coworker that Makarov doesn't like it nor will he tolerate it

You quit a week later, he just reasoned that you shouldn't be working anyways

Keegan

I think you just notice when he's mad about something, like it bothers him enough to the point it feels like a thorn in his side but hasn't done anything about it yet

His jaw hardens, his hands clenched and in fists, slightly biting on his lower lip showing him in a pensive state

And when you ask him what's wrong he just shrugs, dismissing your inquiries because if he told you it wouldn't make sense

You're friends, not lovers, there shouldn't be a reason why he'd be mad if a guy does have underlying intentions about asking you out

These feelings that he believes are unrequited are no good for him, the longer he stays brooding, turning the thought over and over again feeling as if he's going obsessed and crazy over it to the point he's all tense and his actions are all repressed

Like he's holding you back, looking away when you turn to him and him staring at you when he thinks you're not noticing, all these things you notice but don't mention

It's driving him crazy and he's responding and giving curt answers to questions your colleague sends over text, phone calls or in person

"I just don't like the way he's talking to you, is all" makes it sound as if he were only looking out for you but it's obvious

König

Probably wouldn't even notice a guy was flirting with you, sorry but when in public he's less aware of smaller details in his surroundings, like he filters stuff out and goes on auto mode

You'd have to tug on his sleeve and when he FINALLY notices he just brushes the guy off like some bug on his shoulder, nothing big to worry about he'll go away soon

Sure, he doesn't like the idea of someone trying to take you away from him but all he does is keep your hand in his much bigger one and hold you extra tight :)

The only difference you'd notice is at home, he's a lot more clingy than usual, like a lap cat almost

Just laying on top of you, gently of course, falling asleep as he holds you, his mind off in a bliss as he knows you're there with him

Once you chose him he knows you're not going anywhere, he has that much trust in you <3

Horangi

Would laugh like it's some awful joke he was just told

Seriously, who would try that? Apparently that airhead who has excessive confidence thinking he could pull you, didn't he see the ring on your finger?

You're his fiancé(e), promised to him only, last time he checked it wasn't something someone else could try to bargain from him

The type to go "don't worry, I got this" while holding up a hand in front of your face, preventing you from taking further action

Next thing you know you see the poor, unfortunate soul walk out holding a tissue to his nose whilst Horangi emerges from behind with a smug smirk on his face, wiggling his eyebrows at you and asking what you would like for dinner

It was solved in less than 10 minutes, see? He's efficient

Nikto

For him, it's kind of like just disappointment, like he can feels his heart dropping slightly in his chest

Well, he couldn't be the ONLY one to find you attractive, he reasons, someone else must've noticed your charm, your kindness or something about you, things you've reserved just for him

But could that person reciprocate the quite acts of love he's given and dedicated to you? All that time?

Does the other person only glance over your features and not study them in depth? The soft curve of your lips when you smile, the eyes that shine for him...

Does the other person think of you more than just in a physically intimate setting? Surely, they'll never experience those acts of tender love like he does

And he feels like the luckiest guy in the world knowing he hasn't a reason to distrust in you

[3liza]

because most of us can't. the majority of subsistence artists, like sex workers, are in this line of work because we can't do other work. there is also a huge amount of overlap between sex work and subsistence artists and always has been. i have no clue why I continue to see it being discussed as something every artist is simply choosing to do out out some combination of stupidity and narcissism. i would cut off one of my toes to magically have the ability to show up to a normal job every day.

there is a huge blind spot about artists in Marxism and leftist discussion of labor generally because Marx literally didn't talk about them and they don't fit into the "owning the means of production = bourgeois" model unless you're dumb enough to call the guy doing tourist caricatures on the boardwalk "bourgeois", and no joke I have actually seen people try to argue this, but everyone normal understands they are stupid so it doesn't matter. we agree that the guy on the boardwalk with the easel or the bucket drums or the harp is not actually bourgeois.

if you have actually worked in the "creative industry" without support while paying your own rent and groceries and not being supported by parents or friends or a spouse, and you know a bunch of other people who have been doing the same thing for a long time, you are similarly confused by discussions along the lines of "why do artists simply not get other jobs if they hate being slowly fed into the social media meat grinder 🤔"

i can tell you exactly why. it's because I spend 25 days out of every month having to Lie Down, and when I tried saying the words "Americans with Disabilities Act" to various employers and school administrators like you're supposed to, I got shitcanned and failed so many times it was like a vaudeville routine. you will find that this is true of a great many working artists (not hobbyists and not students living at home, adult working artists), perhaps most, and I genuinely continue to be baffled by the fact that nobody seems to be aware that drawing things for cash (or dancing or writing articles or editing manuscripts or taking wedding photos or whatever) and other jobs without set schedules (like stripping, camming, etc) are careers a lot of people, certainly the ones without any starting capital, end up in when they can't get paid more for fewer hours. and you get paid more for fewer hours in basically any other job than these, including working at fast food or walmart.

surely you can hear how this sounds? "if you don't like it, why don't you just get a job that pays more?" where have we heard that before? stop. think.

[dootznbootz]

MY HOMIES ALWAYS HAVE MY BACK!! I LOVE YOU ALL (PLATONICALLY)

It's about Odysseus' Boar scar >:D and it's very stupid.

I'm just going to come out front and say I've actually SEEN some "goring scars" (farm/woods stuff) and they are NOT pretty. There's a reason why when calves are young their horns are usually cauterized. As cows usually can't tell how strong they are and shove each other and can straight-up stab each other. :'D Infections and other stuff take root very quickly in these situations and the same with tusks on pigs.

I don't know much about pigs but my mom grew up with them, so I'm basing a lot of what I know from what she knows and some research on wild pigs on my own.

I personally love imagining the boar Odysseus took down in his youth to be about the size of the regular boars in Princess Mononoke. (The leaders like Nago and Okkoto being the size of the Calydonian Boar) . And even though it sounds like a regular boar in the Odyssey, I guess you could say that I love the idea from Epic: The Musical where it's a challenge from Athena at a young age. So therefore it's bigger. Plus everything in Greek Myths are already "larger than life" so why not go with it!

(best photo I could find at the moment, sorry. But just look at Tiny Ashitaka compared to the boars. Tiny 13-14 year old Odysseus. Itty bitty baby boy.)

And for how he got the boar scar, I personally love imagining him somehow getting tossed up in the air from the boar. Animals when "charging" have their head down usually and then toss UP at whatever they're attacking. These animals specifically are big so he would most likely be almost completely sitting on the boar's snout. I like imagining him doing the "final blow" during that. Yes, he got hurt but doing the risky thing is what allowed him to beat it.

I imagine the tusk first striking his knee, (if he were pressed up against a wall or something, it would've been SOO bad. like snapping leg backwards bad 😭) Then goes up inside his thigh and then welp, takes a nut 😔 😂 Odysseus nearly blacked out from pain before stabbing it in the shoulder, and he kind of slid off the snout a bit, in which it goes upward. and ends on his tummy.

Closeup of Said tummy scar by my dear friend thehelplessmortals :3

Like teen him wakes up after taking it down and passing out and he's in pain and panicking a bit but grandpa Autolycus is like "kid, it was barely not your femoral artery and you're lucky to have your intestines. this was the best possible outcome"

I also plan for basically the only reason why Odysseus survived this is because Athena helped him out like the gods do during the Iliad. Magic Healing. Why he can still run well despite the injury. (although I plan for it to cause some stiffness for the old man later on. Water Wife helps with joint and scar pain! :D )

~~~~

This causes Odysseus some *ahem* fertility issues later on. (he's a half-eunich now) I like imagining it took OdyPen a while to have Telemachus. Why it's even more tragic he wasn't able to spend a lot of time raising him. Plus GOOD genuine love is forged through SOME hardship. Having the strain of possible infertility on your marriage yet still loving one another? And fighting for one another??? GOOD ANGST FOR FUTURE FICS!!! >:D I also kind of find it funny for Odysseus to blame his asexualness/demisexualness on it. "This is why I don't feel sexual attraction! This is why I'm not 'normal' like others!" No buddy, you're just like that. Good try though! You fucking love your wife!

That's all, folks! :P

If this gets 5 likes, I'll say one of my silliest Odysseus headcanons. Not just say it, either. NO. I'll write a full-on essay on why I have this headcanon just to say the stupidest (and simplest) conclusion at the end.

[steddie-as-they-come]

"Mom," Steve whispered in the inky blackness of his parents' room. "Mom, there's something under my bed."

Patricia Harrington turned over. "Steven, go back to sleep," she murmured.

"I can't." Steve said. "There's a monster."

"No such thing." his mom said, angrier, more awake. "Go to bed now, and if I catch you out of bed again you can forget going to Tommy's this weekend."

Steve nodded and padded back down the hall, pausing at his door then taking a running jump into bed.

The room was silent.

"I know you're here." Steve whispered, making sure all his limbs were tucked safely away under the covers. "You don't scare me."

A couple minutes of quiet, then Steve heard a scraping sound come from under his bed. He squeaked and pulled his blankets up to his nose.

A horrible, raspy laugh came from below him. "I do scare you!" said a voice. "You lied!"

"No-no you don't!" Steve said boldly. He clutched his blanket tighter, then said, "I can't be scared of something I can't see! That's just dumb."

Something dark began to slither across the floor out of the corner of Steve's eye. Oh, I'm gonna regret that, he thought.

The thing began to pull itself up, looming over Steve. It cracked a smile, and sharp white teeth gleamed in the light from his closet.

Steve screamed.

"Shut up!" his dad shouted angrily from downstairs, and Steve clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes flicking between the shadow and the door like he wasn't sure which monster to be more afraid of.

The monster crept toward him, and Steve dug his fingernails into his face, scooting away from the horror. He whimpered, not daring to close his eyes.

Then the monster began to shrink.

It shriveled away, changing color and backing up, until a little boy, about Steve's age, stood in front of him. He had long curly hair and was dressed in a t-shirt that was way too big on him. When he opened his eyes, Steve flinched, because the whites of his eyes simply...weren't there. His eyes were an onyx black.

"Hi," the boy said. "I'm Eddie."

Steve was too stunned to speak, but he did uncover his mouth.

"I'm the monster under your bed!" Eddie said. "I'm supposed to scare you, but, um-" he risked a quick look at the door "-I don't think you need my help for that."

"Why are you supposed to scare me?" Steve asked.

Eddie shrugged. "Dunno. Every kid's got one. It's just how it works. I was made to be your monster, forever!" He sat down on the edge Steve's bed, bumping Steve's shoulder against his. "Weird to be on this side of the bed. No dust bunnies or anything."

Steve giggled, forgetting his fear. "You're fun!"

Eddie grinned at him. "Thank you! None of the other monsters think my jokes are funny."

"So you have to scare me?" Steve asked. "But you're not scary. Not after talking to me."

Eddie paused. "Oh, right. I'm not supposed to talk to you. Um..."

"What if we just say you're scaring me?" Steve asked. "I'll pretend I'm really scared of the monster under my bed, and you pretend you scare me every single night. But really we're hanging out instead of scaring!"

"Ooh, I like that idea!" Eddie struck a dramatic pose. "I'll be the monster under your bed, but I'll be ready to protect you if you need it too!"

Steve stuck out his hand like he saw his dad do for business deals. "Deal?"

Eddie shook it. "Deal."

-

Steve sprinted through the forest, the kids hot on his heels. "There!" he shouted. "Everyone in!"

The kids bolted to the abandoned cabin, and Steve slammed the door shut. "Is there a bed in here?" he called. "A couch? A fridge?"

"Bed's in here!" Will yelled, and Steve followed his voice to the cluttered bedroom, complete with partially-caved-in bedframe. He gingerly took a seat on the mattress, cringing when it crackled. He did not need to know what was on this.

"Eddie?" he called, tapping on the flaky painted wood.

The shitheads crowded in, and Mike murmured. "What the fuck is he doing?"

Steve ignored him. "Eddie, come on, I need your help."

Something tall, dark, and lanky slid out from under the bed, and all the kids jumped back in fright, raising their various weapons. Steve leapt to get in front of them, raising his hands as a shield. "Chill! Calm down, this is Eddie!"

Eddie shrank into his human form, draping himself over Steve. "You had to summon me to the nastiest bed in Indiana? Really, Steve?"

Steve shrugged. "This was the closest one. We need your help, Eds."

"We?" He focused on the Party. "Well, these must be the infamous buttheads." Eddie slid into the shadows and reappeared behind the Party, inspecting them. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, right?" he said, pointing at each one as he said their names.

"What the fuck are you?" Dustin asked.

Suddenly Eddie was under Steve's arm, wrapping a hand around his waist. "I'm Steve's monster under the bed." he said. "I'm just... friendlier with Steve than most of the monsters I work with."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You can tell him you're my boyfriend, they know I'm bi." He kissed Eddie on the cheek.

The kids all broke into gasps, except for Max, who fake gagged. "Don't be gross!" she yelled. "Demogorgon outside, remember?"

"Ah, right." Steve said. "Eds, can you-"

"On it." Eddie kissed Steve. "I'll be back."

The kids watched Eddie melt into shadows, then wheeled on Steve. "Steven Don't-Know-Your-Middle-Name Harrington," Dustin said. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

edit: i did not expect this response to the short little thing that took me 30 mins max at 2am!! i’m planning on rewriting it and turning it into a full length fic, so i’ll come back and edit this with the link!

edit #2: if there’s anything you guys want to see in the full length version of this please let me know!! i’m trying my best to make it a slowburn which is horrid for my adhd so let me know if there’s anything you want!!

[kashverse]

umbrellas are, without a doubt, mankind’s magnum opus. rain? blocked. sun? deflected. want to look like a brooding protagonist in a slow-motion film sequence? pop that thing open and stride dramatically.  a/n: read till the end to see choso's temu collab <3

unfortunately, this universal truth is lost on gojo, who believes his infinity is a catch-all solution to every problem in life, including weather. does it keep the rain off him? sure. does it do the same for you? absolutely not. but does he realize this? of course not. so while he’s smugly holding you close, humming some dumb love song and talking about how "this is just like those k-dramas, huh, babe?" you are actively getting drenched. fast forward two days later—you’re curled up in bed, tissues piling up like a battlefield, and gojo is wailing as if he’s the one on death’s doorstep. “my baby is dying,” he cries to shoko over the phone, who is ignoring him as she eats her lunch. it doesn’t matter that you told him it was just a mild cold. gojo is now hand-feeding you soup with the solemnity of a man who thinks he is on his last day of service. *“i should’ve—sniff—bought an umbrella.” you have half a mind to hit him with the spoon.

geto, on the other hand, is a man of preparation and, for some reason, exclusively stocks clear umbrellas. like, exclusively. open his closet and you will find nothing but a neat, borderline concerning collection of transparent umbrellas, stacked like they’re waiting for a government-distributed evacuation plan. does he use them all? yes. does he need that many? no. when you question him, he simply shrugs and says, “it’s aesthetic.” but the aestheticism fades a little when the two of you are forced to walk under the blazing summer sun, grumbling like old men because the clear plastic is offering exactly zero protection from UV rays. "we’re gonna get so tanned,” you whine. “we’ll be fine,” he reassures, though he looks about one minute away from passing out. why doesn’t he just buy a regular umbrella? you may never know.

toji, meanwhile, gives you the slow blink of a man who has never voluntarily used an umbrella in his life. if you ask him where his umbrella is, he will blink at you like a lizard sunning itself on a rock and say, "what’s an umbrella?" except he’s joking, but also not really. the thing about toji is that he fundamentally does not care about the weather. if it rains, it rains. if it shines, it shines. he has completed jobs in typhoons, sprinted through downpours to reach you in the middle of the night when you were anxious, and once walked through a literal snowstorm to buy a six-pack. weather is an inconvenience only for the weak. that is until his philosophy backfires and he ends up with a sunburn so severe he’s walking around the house hissing like a vampire, or with a cold so bad that every time he blows his nose, he sounds like a goose fighting for its life. and now he’s grumpy about it. "should’ve used an umbrella," you tell him sweetly as you rub aloe on his peeling shoulders. he grumbles something unintelligible and sulks like a big, overgrown toddler.

nanami is the only one among them who has fully mastered the art of umbrella ownership. you don’t even have to ask if he has one; the answer is always yes. he has one for every occasion. he carries a primary umbrella, a backup umbrella in his bag, and if you check his office drawer, there’s probably another one neatly folded away just in case. he whips it out at the farmers' market, during evening strolls, and most impressively, in a street fight. if you’ve ever seen a man turn an umbrella into a lethal weapon, nanami is that man. he can and will beat the shit out of someone with it. “it’s a tool,” he says simply. and honestly, who are you to argue?

choso, however, is firmly in the raincoat camp. umbrellas make his hands hurt, so he skips the struggle entirely and commits to full rain protection like a man on a mission. the problem arises when he starts browsing for new raincoats and sees children wearing character-themed ones. next thing you know, he is holding up two sanrio-themed raincoats from temu, grinning ear to ear. "they glow in the dark when they get wet," he says proudly. they allegedly glow. allegedly. you do a quick google search and find out they might actually contain enough lead to take down a fully grown man. "choso, you are not wearing that." but he already bought it. and now he’s standing in the rain, in a kuromi-themed raincoat that is possibly a biohazard, smiling like he’s the peak of fashion.

sukuna, much like toji, does not give a single damn about rain or shine. it could be pouring or blisteringly hot, and he’d still be doing whatever he wants, unaffected and unbothered. however, if the weather starts personally inconveniencing him—like preventing him from stretching out in his favorite sunspot like some oversized demon cat—he will glare at the sky itself and, somehow, it will fix itself. it doesn’t rain if sukuna doesn’t want it to. the sun won’t shine if he says so. when you ask him how he does it, he just shrugs. "i just do." you don’t push for answers. you’re a little scared to.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

If You Only Knew

Main Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist

Read on A03! - Part 2

Tags: Soldier Boy/Female Reader, fluff, pining, emotions (oh no), swearing

Title from I Can See You by Taylor Swift.

Summary/Warnings: Request from an anon! Ben is experiencing feelings. Real feelings. For a woman. But his reputation his proceeds him, so trying to win her over is taking a while. Once he gets a chance, he simply fucking refuses to blow it.

Author's Note: Ben proving once again that he's my favorite character to write for. I get to type "fuck" so much in his pov.

Word Count: 6.3k

Ben was not listening to any of these stupid fucking speeches. They were all the same, every goddamn year, and usually he’d at least pretend to pay attention—nodding like he gave a fuck about who this random pussy wanted to thank, applauding when everyone else applauded because he could do it louder, and better—for the sake of the cameras.

But this year he had better fucking priorities. Ones that were far more important than saving the birds from cancer, or whatever the fuck this charity did.

He was looking for Her. 

She was here. She had to be here. She’d said she’d be here, so She was here. Ben couldn’t fucking find Her, but she was here. 

Christ, he needed Her to be here. He hadn’t fought to wear a real, well-tailored suit and made that big donation just for Her to not be here. For Ben to just be acting like a pussy fucking dumbass for everyone but Her to see.

He’d let Her see it, because she seemed to like stuff like that. Romantic shit that women always liked, but bigger. Showing that Ben cared.

And he didn’t care about the birds, or dogs, or cats, or whatever the hell they were all doing here. He did care about Her, and getting Her to stop acting like she didn’t care about him.

He knew She cared about him. If She didn’t care, She wouldn’t ask him about his day like she always did. Specifying small things from shit he’d said two weeks, asking follow-up questions and making soft, adorable jokes through the conversation. She wouldn’t tell him about Her own day, like she really wanted him to know. She wouldn’t say Ben like She did. Like it was a word she liked saying. That felt right on Her tongue.

But She cared about Ben, not Soldier Boy. She didn’t even seem to fucking like Solider Boy, because the only times she really looked at him was when he wore dumb fucking people clothing instead of his supe suit. When he did things that boring citizens did, and when he told Her real things about himself. He’d tried all the regular moves on Her, the ones that usually got women to melt right to his will, and she’d been unaffected. He’d used all his best hero stories, and She’d seemed to be listening but not invested. Not swooning. He’d shown off his powers, and She’d flushed but hadn’t fawned, hadn’t fallen to Her knees. He’d casually dropped into conversation that he was considered the most attractive man alive, and She’d fucking giggled.

What had gotten Her was when he’d told Her about his real life, where he lived alone in a too big house that all the whores in the world couldn’t fill. When he’d mentioned how much he fucking hated school, and She’d asked why, and he’d told Her honestly. Ben hadn’t been honest about jack fucking shit in almost sixty years.

But She’d listened to him, smiled, not made a big fucking deal about it, and he’d been a goner. Nobody ever listened and actually fucking cared. 

But She’d cared about Ben.

She cared about almost everything.

It was the first thing Ben had learned about her. That she really goddamn cared. He hadn’t seen that before. It was jarring, and infuriating, and better than goddamn heroine. Because it wasn’t a show, like all the stupid fucking pussy supes and Vought employees had mastered. Nobody in this room gave a shit about the dogs. They were here for the photo ops, and press, and good will of the public. They were here because it was their damn jobs, and saving the dogs looked good on a front page.

She was here because she fucking cared. She actually was saving the kittens. She fucking volunteered here, for no pay or glory or opportunities to get massive rounds of applause when She gave a teary speech about how much she’d always loved cats, like Crimson Countess was now.

Everyone in this room—from Ben to the red-clad bitch on stage—had shit to gain from being here. She only had shit to lose. She worked for a middle school, because she liked kids and teaching and making a real difference. She lived in a shitty little apartment that could barely fit Ben through the door. She always had bags under her eyes that Ben wanted to fix—to pin Her down in bed until she got some real goddamn sleep—messy hair Ben wanted to comb his finger through, and cheap clothing Ben wanted to rip off Her body.

And fucking Christ, he was a pussy. He wanted Her more than he’d ever wanted goddamn anything, and he’d repeated over and over in the first few months that it was the chase. That he wanted Her because he couldn’t have her, and once he caught Her he’d get over it. Stop trailing around after a fucking woman. A girl, as if he was a fucking teenager with a crush instead of a goddamn man who could have whatever, whoever, he wanted.

And he fucking knew She wanted him. She’d wanted him from the start, when he’d been touring Her school for a public education PSA, and She’d been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and when he’d stuck around and bought Her lunch and asked Her out she’d looked at him like she wanted to eat him.

But then She’d said no.

And Ben had chased. He’d kept buying Her lunch, started driving her home, and gone to all the stupid charity galas just to see Her and convince her to say yes. Then he’d realized he wasn’t chasing to chase anymore. He wasn’t even chasing to catch.

He was chasing to stop running. To have Her grin at him, and say She wanted him, and then keep wanting him for the rest of her life. And Ben would keep wanting Her. She was sweet and She cared, She was fucking hot and smarter than everyone he worked with, she had the patience and kindness of a goddamn Saint, and Ben didn’t ever want to see her flicker or waver or be anything but happy. He wanted to give Her whatever she asked for, and all he had to do was convince Her that it wasn’t a fucking show. That Ben really just fucking wanted Her, in a stupid, pathetic, domestic way.

But She didn’t believe him. Every time he said that she just laughed and wave him off like it was a joke, acting like She just wanted to be Ben’s friend.

He liked Her as a friend. She might be the only real friend he had.

He’d like Her more in his bed, coming apart under his touch and ruined on his mouth and screaming his name when he fucked Her until whole goddamn house shook.

He’d like Her best at his side when he woke up, and in his kitchen wearing his shirt, and on his arm at all these stupid fucking let’s all blow each other about how fucking rich and important we are parties. 

He’d fucking worship the ground She walked on if, after every day, Ben got to pick Her up from her stupid fucking job—he’d try to convince Her to quit, he made more than enough money for both of them, but he also knew she taught for the  damn love of it and he’d never want to deprive Her of something she loved—and carry Her into their house. If he got to keep telling her about his day like he was a real person and not a goddamn brand.

And She had to fucking want that too. She’d have avoided him and cursed him out if She didn’t want him at all. She’d have given into his advances sooner if She didn’t want the same that kind of life Ben craved, where he didn’t look anywhere else but Her, and he spoiled and treated Her like the queen she was.

He just had to convince Her that he wouldn’t look anywhere else. That his gaze had barely even strayed since they met. That he’d been celibate like some pussy fucking priest for a fucking year, and he was starting to lose his fucking mind—his hand was not enough, not when he kept fantasizing about Her body and how fucking warm and tight she’d feel wrapped around him—but he’d hold out until She was ready. Until She finally got that he was fucking serious about this. He was honorable, and a goddamn gentleman, and there wasn’t a single motherfucker on planet that could treat Her as well as he would.

But Ben still had to find Her to show her that. She wasn’t anywhere in between the ribbons and balloons covering the ballroom, and he couldn’t place Her silhouette backstage, so She wasn’t here. Ben would’ve found Her by now. He’d trained himself to find Her anywhere, even if it wasn’t somewhere he was supposed to be talking to anyone but the press and the suits. Just to keep an eye on Her, and make sure she was okay. 

Sometimes he’d see that there was a slump in Her beautiful shoulders, or a pout on her pretty lips, and he’d work out an excuse to slip all the Vought pussies to talk to Her. 

She’d smile when she saw him. 

So Ben fucking knew She wanted him. Because it was a soft smile he saw Her give her students and roommates. The real people She liked, who she kept around her on purpose. Not the smile he’d seen Her give that weird Stan Edgar douchebag, or Countess, or any other Vought officials she had to interact with for the charities. Not the sickly-sweet smile She gave all those rich pussies, where she was only smiling to try and get a little more money out them. The smile where She was disgusted with herself, but was doing it to save the squirrels. Or free the squirrels. Or find the squirrels.

Ben really didn’t fucking know what any of these charities did. 

But he had a damn good idea of where he’d find Her.

It wasn’t easy to slip through the crowd without anyone noticing, but he managed. The key was to head for the bathrooms, stay away from the cameras, and out of where Countess could see him and try to fucking start something in a closet. But Ben made it, and then he was fucking free, heading right to where he should’ve been the whole time.

With Her.

Ben heard Her first. Mumbling to Herself as soft clicks sounded, her voice hushed and flustered. She was having trouble with something.

Ben could help Her.

When he turned the corner, She was on Her knees in front of a door, frowning at the handle with an adorable little furrow in Her brow. She looked fucking amazing. Hair styled perfectly, makeup clean and highlighting Her every flawless feature, wearing a dress that Ben wanted to imprint the image of on his brain—every curve and dip right fucking there for him to touch, every shift of Her body giving Ben a new idea of how he’d like to see Her bounce on his cock—then rip off so he could have Her everything. Her warm skin against his, her careful fingers wrapped around his dick or scratching at his chest, Her hair ruined and her makeup stained on his pillow-

“Ben, stop creeping around.”

He frowned at Her. She’d never even glanced away from the door handle.

“How the fuck did you know it was me?”

“You’re not small,” She shrugged, still not looking at him. “And you’re wearing a lot of cologne. Special occasion?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He moved to stand at Her side, grinning down at her as he tried to get back on his game. He was fucking good at this, he would not allow Her sweet, refreshing… everything to throw him off. “I’m rescuing you tonight.”

She hummed. “Rescuing me from what?”

“This door. He giving you some trouble?” 

She finally fucking looked at him. Her eyes were sparkling, her smile was full and illuminating her whole face, and Ben’s fucking knees were going to give out. 

“You put on cologne to rescue me from a door?”

Ben cleared his throat. His game. He would not fucking lose his game. “Yes.”

Fuck.

She was still smiling at him. It was making his head spin a little. “Why?”

Ben could fucking do this. He did this all the time. And just because She was prettier and smarter and more important than anyone else didn’t mean Ben couldn’t fucking do this. 

“Because you deserve the best being saved experience in the damn world, doll face.” He winked down at Her, and she flushed slightly. There it fucking was. “Nothing but the best for my girl.”

“Oh.” She mumbled, Her eyes wide on his. “I, um, I don’t really need saving right now-“

“Then why the fuck are you on the floor.”

She sighed, leaning the side of Her head against the door, still looking up at Ben. He hoped She never stood up. This was going to fuel his hand for another goddamn year. “I’m supposed to handle the raffle but, um,” She sunk fully down to the floor, rubbing her face between her hands. “I locked myself out of the office.”

Ben glanced at the door, then at Her openly pouting expression. “You need to be in there?”

“Yeah, and everyone else who has a key is- Ben!”

He’d barely waited to hear Her say yeah before he was winding up and punching the door clean off its hinges. Splinters of wood flew everywhere, but he’d been fucking ready for that, and moved to block Her from harm. She wouldn’t ever get so much as a fucking scratch as long as Ben was around, and she should know that. Trust that. Trust Ben to help Her with whatever the hell she needed, because then he’d be the one she trusted. 

Her hand was grabbing his shin. It felt like fucking lighting through his whole goddamn body.

“There.” He leaned down, helping Her up from the floor, scanning over her slack face for any gratitude or anger or—hopefully—pure joy and affection for Ben’s undying service. “Go do the raffle.”

“I- God, Ben.” She sighed, and he frowned. That was not how She was supposed to sigh his name. ”I have to fix that now.”

“No.” He grunted, frowning around the broken wood and clearing dust. “I’ll do that.” 

“It’s okay, I can do it-“

“I fucking broke it.” He snapped Her name, because he was a goddamn man, he could fix a door. For Her, he could fix fucking anything. “I’ll take care of it.”

She gave him a small smile, squeezing his arm as she stepped into the office. “Sure.”

He trailed after Her into the office, still frowning. “I will-“

“You’ll find someone else to fix it, Soldier Boy.” She gave him a gentle, teasing look over Her shoulder, and Ben hated when she called him that. He knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was. He wanted Her to know Ben.

He opened his mouth to protest, to snap that he could fucking fix it, that he wasn’t some fucking pussy who needed to call a bunch of fucking dumbasses to fix a goddamn door, but She’d already moved on, and Ben never really knew how to do anything but move with Her.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know.”

“I don’t have any other shit to do,” Ben grunted Her name, standing right against Her back as she leaned over the desk, grabbing paper and a pencil. “I’m yours for the night.”

She hummed, and Ben could fucking hear Her heart stumble. “Mine?”

“Yours, sweetheart. However you need me.” Ben winked, and that was definitely at least a hitched breath. “I could do… whatever the fuck you’re doing.”

“I’m pulling the numbers for the raffles prizes,” She explained, moving to bunch of buckets, all filled with paper. “What did you put in for? I can rig it, you know.”

Ben snorted. “You’d never fucking rig it-“

“I might.” She shot Ben a glare. It was adorable. “You don’t know me-“

“Yeah, I do.” Ben smirked at Her, leaning down until he was hardly a breath away. “You’re a fucking square, doll, but I’m into it. I think I could loosen you up, just up for me, but,” he winked, savoring the way Her mouth dropped slightly. “I think I like you tight too.”

She swallowed, Her eyes darting down to Ben’s lips, and when she spoke her voice was a little soft. “You, um, you didn’t answer my question?”

Ben shrugged, rising back up as She collected herself. He wouldn’t push Her all the way, not here. When he finally kissed Her, it should be somewhere movie-worthy. In the rain, or in a garden, or on a rooftop. Not a stupid fucking office. “That’s because I didn’t put in for anything.”

“Nothing?” She blinked at him. “There was nothing you wanted? Because I know a lot of the prizes are kind of dumb, but I got some good ones in there. At least, I thought they were good? Did none of them-“

“Relax.” Ben said Her name, giving Her an amused look, and she took a long, heavy breath. “They were fucking great prizes. I thought about going in on that car-“

“Really?” Her face split into a smile, and Ben forgot what they were talking about for a second. “I actually put that one in there for- um-“

She flushed, and Ben felt his own heart flare in his chest. He fucking had Her. 

“You put the car in the raffle for me, babygirl?” He only let himself call Her that when he knew he could get away with it. When She wouldn’t laugh and ask him if he called all the girls that, when he didn’t have any other fucking girls. He just had Her. 

And She was so fucking pretty, gaping and stuttering at him, Her whole face slack with want. For Ben. Ben fucking knew She wanted him. “I, um- I- Maybe, but you didn’t even bid on it-“

He chuckled, taking a slow step forward. Closer. She didn’t take a step back. “It was a great fucking prize, doll, don’t lose your damn mind.”

“I’m not- If it’s great, why didn’t you-“

“I’ve got almost everything I want already,” He drawled Her name. Another step. “And I didn’t come here to get a damn car.”

“Why, um,” She swallowed, her voice breathy and like a fucking drug in Ben’s ears. “Why did you come here?”

“To get that one thing I don’t have.” He dropped his voice, taking that last step forward, caging Her between his arms and the desk, smirking as Her hand landed on his stomach, slowly trailing up to his chest. Not pushing him away, not moving closer. Just watching Ben with blown out eyes and ragged breathes like She’d never taken in air before. “The one thing I really fucking want.”

“You, um,” Her hand curl in Ben’s shirt, and when he leaned into her touch, he heard a soft moan. “I saw that you still gave us money. Outside of the raffle. It was, um, ah- It was really-“

Ben raised his brows, watching Her stumble over herself. “Need some help there, darling?”

“No, I’m- The donation was big.” Her voice high and needy, and Ben did have fucking game. He was goddamn amazing at this. “Impressive.”

“Of course, babygirl.” Ben winked at Her, leaning down to whisper in Her ear. “I’m big and impressive. And I care a lot about curing the fucking cats-“

“Kids.” She said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “This charity is for kids. And we’re not curing them, we’re feeding them.”

“Oh.” Ben blinked, trying to remember if any of the speeches had actually mentioned what this charity did. If they had, he hadn’t damn heard it. Most of them had just been blowing themselves about how much they fucking loved changing the world. “I care about kids, too. And curing them of, uh, hunger.”

She giggled, and Ben’s smirk returned. He still had Her.

“You know,” he hummed, leaning a little closer and watching Her eyes flick to his lips. “I’m fucking amazing with kids-“

“I do know.” She whispered. “All my students loved you.”

“Of course they do. They’re smart, because they’re taught by a hot, smart fucking lady. A lady,” Ben pushed on, and if he moved just a little further forward, She’d feel the evidence of how much he fucking wanted Her—perfect body and pretty brain and gorgeous face—pressed against her thigh. “Who’d make some great kids, with me-“

She laughed, rolling Her eyes, but it wasn’t her usual dismissive laugh. It was softer. Ben was closer to having Her forever. “Okay, Ben. Go bother your date with that shit-“

“I don’t have a date to bother.” He held Her gaze, making his words plain. Simple. “So I guess I’m stuck bothering you.”

“I, um, I- You- You don’t-“ Her jaw was hanging open, Her fingers fidgeting with Ben’s shirt in Her hand, and he was so close. 

This wasn’t the romantic setting it needed to be. And She had to find him for this. She needed to tell Ben that She wanted him for him, to throw herself into him arms with a plea for him to hold Her. And when She did, he’d hold Her and never let go.

But She had to do it. Ben needed know that She understood he wouldn’t be looking a single other fucking place.

So he pushed off the desk, hanging onto the racing sound of Her heartbeat, and begging the fucking universe She’d chase after him. Her hand was still in his shirt. Her breathing was still desperate. She was still licking her own lips, and staring at Ben’s-

“I have to go deliver the winner list.” She whispered, taking a step away from the desk. Still touching Ben. “I’ll see you later?”

He didn’t get Her now. He’d keep going until he did. “You always fucking do.”

She gave him a smile, stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, and walked away. Just fucking walked away, like Ben wasn’t going out of his goddamn mind from Her touch. Like She hadn’t just found the one thing that might actually fucking kill him, like She wasn’t a living, walking fucking weakness, like Her presence made Ben not care about being weak. He couldn’t care about anything but Her, not while She was still lingering in the air around him.

But She walked away, and now he was alone in this stupid goddamn office.

And he was going to fix that fucking door.

———

It’s getting harder and harder to turn Ben down. Harder and harder to remind yourself of his reputation, and history, and overall inability to give you anything but sex.

It doesn’t help that it would be good sex. Amazing sex. Sex that you’d had fantasies about before you even met him, because you had eyes and lived on planet Earth, and everyone with those two things had experienced a least one wet dream about Soldier Boy in their life.

But it was crippling how much more intricate and prevalent those fantasies had gotten after he’d stopped being Soldier Boy to you and started being Ben. Still all the looks and charm and impossible strength of the untouchable hero, but also just a big, grumpy man who looked at you like you were the untouchable one, like you were the work of art, like he wanted to grab you and ruin you.

You had to remind yourself that ruining you was all he really wanted. That yes, you’d be more than happy to let him wreck and use you, but you couldn’t just have that. Your dumb, romantic heart wanted him to care for you after he destroyed you with his hands and mouth and cock, then stay through the night and a little while after too. Stay forever. Walk with you on the streets, his arm looped around your waist, smile at you and never anywhere else.

That was why you couldn’t give in. Ben was your friend, and he obviously wanted you, but he just wanted the chase. He just wanted to win you, then leave after, and you couldn’t even be angry at him for it. That was just who he was. You wouldn’t ask him to change his whole lifestyle of fame and drugs and countless bodies passing through his bed just because you had a crush. Just because you got a little jealous whenever you’d see him dancing with other women on the grainy TV, because you knew him and they didn’t. You knew him as more than just the hero, and you liked him as more than just the brand, and you wanted him all to yourself but you couldn’t have that.

And if you gave in, you’d fall in love with him, and he’d ruin you in a way he’d never intended to. You know yourself. You know that he’ll show you the time of your life, you’ll go over the edge you’ve been balancing on since you met him, and you’ll have destroyed your own life. He wouldn’t stay until the morning. He’d probably move on by that same evening.

You were pretty sure he’d move on. That he’d still be your friend, but he’d have gotten what he wanted, and you’d be lost as he grabbed your heart out of your chest then walked away with it, never looking back.

But you’d also been sure he was still sleeping around. That he was chasing you, but just for the game of it. That he’d use spare time and opportunity to try and coax you into him arms, into his bed, but then turn around and find what you refused to give him elsewhere.

That hadn’t been his spare time. He’d probably had pictures to take and people to charm, but he’d still looked for you. So it wasn’t opportunity either. It was purposefully seeking you out, just to seek you out. 

Worst—or best—of all, he said he didn’t have a date. No dazzling woman on his arm that was suited to be there, designed just to throw his light a little wider around the room and match his power with her own. No goddess that you could never live up to, that would laugh and sneer at the little human girl with a crush on Soldier Boy. The mortal who thought she was good enough to string him along, when you really wanted nothing more than to stop making him chase you. To stop running so Ben could grab you, pick you up, and spin you around before kissing you like you were in a romance novel.

But he wouldn’t do that, so youcouldn’tstop running. You couldn’t afford heartbreak, couldn’t capitalize off of it with tabloids like the other women did. You weren’t cutthroat and savvy enough, weren’t strong enough, weren’t entertaining enough. You’d just wallow and cry and drag yourself through routine, fading to the world until something cracked. 

And you had to take care of yourself. Nobody else would.

If Ben broke your heart, you’d lose more than you even had to begin with. You’d lose yourself—because you’re stupid and emotional and can’t do anything but fall fully in love—you’d lose your mind, and you lose your peace as you attended more charity galas like this one, now forced to watch Ben laugh and grin with a different woman on his arm.

He wasn’t doing it now though, and it made is so much worse. You were standing off the side of the stage as they read off the raffle numbers, your eyes locked on Ben’s empty seat, and there was no pouting, beautiful woman waiting for him to return. Just two old men that kept glaring at the chair Ben was supposed to be occupying.

He still hasn’t returned to the ballroom, even though it’s been nearly an hour since you left the office. You’re not sure what he’s doing.

You don’t really want to think about it. You don’t want to think about how he doesn’t have anyone next to him—how if you think about it, he hasn’t had anyone for a while—but that’s just where you can see it. And Countess has vanished from the ballroom too. 

So he might just be keeping her where you can’t see it.

It makes your lungs ache and forms a small lump in your throat, but you refuse to let it destroy you. Ben’s not yours to be possessive over. Not yours to be bitter about. You can’t hate him—you don’t even know how you’d do that—but you can’t wallow when you have nothing to be heartbroken over. No promises were made, and Ben’s a grown man. He can do whatever he wants, with whoever he wants, as long as it’s away from you.

You’re not sure how you’ll manage when he finally gives up his chase. When he realizes one random girl really isn’t worth all this work, and leaves you alone. He’ll still be your friend, but the teasing and flirting will end, and you’ll have to pretend like he didn’t shatter you when he never held you to begin with. Like it won’t make you sick when he starts to have dates again, because you’d made him wait too long.

You honestly thought he’d stop chasing months ago. You’re surprised he’s held out this long. It’s been almost eighteen months since you met him and—if you really think about it—about a year since you’ve seen him flirt anyone else.

But Countess is still missing.

So you can’t give in.

You throw yourself back into the gala. It’s a good distraction from everything, and it makes you feel useful. You’re doing something that will be good. You’re taking the money of these shining, arrogant modern kings and directing it somewhere important. You’ll go through the whole show, you’ll give away all these prizes and feed all their egos with praise and thanks, because then they’ll keep giving the charity money and you’ll keep using it for good.

It’s why there’s always a speech to thank the top donors. To ensure that they feel appreciated, and make all the other rich assholes try to give more next time. You’re always in charge of the list, putting it together and running it over with the announcer, and you’re about halfway through it when Countess reappears. 

She doesn’t look like she just had sex. She mostly looks annoyed. 

You try not to dwell on it, and put all your focus onto the list.

“Dr. Vogelbaum from Vought American gave $10,000, so he’s second, and our top donor gave, um,” you swallow, praying the heat of your face isn’t visible you land on the last name. “$69,000.”

He’s such a fucking child. 

You want to kiss him so bad.

The Announcer clears his throat, giving you a pointed look. “$69,000 from whom?”

You’re definitely flushing now. “Oh, sorry, from Soldier Boy-“

Countess groans, throwing her hands up dramatically. “God, of course he fucking did that!”

The Announcer nods, seeming happy to just move on, but you need more. You need to know why she’d say that.

“Of course?” You ask, trying to sound as neutral as possible. “Why-“

“Because he’s a dick.” She spits. “First he tells Edgar he’s not doing all our PR dates, even though they’re in our contract, and then he won’t sleep with me for a fucking year, and now he’s trying to go all in on this sudden good guy shit?!”

You gape at her, your brain spinning a little as you try to catch up. “What good guy shit?”

“I mean all these donations, and reading books, and refusing to go to the conservation galas with me but then going alone? He wouldn’t even let me give him a hand job in the bathroom!”

You’re a little dizzy. You remember that gala. Ben had donated a lot of money, asked you your favorite animal, then made an even bigger donation to be use for that animal. 

“I don’t know what his game is,” Countess sneers, glaring at the wall in front of her. “But I’ll figure it out. He can’t hide from me forever.”

“Hide from you?” You squeak, thankful Countess seems too caught up in herself to notice how invested you are in this. “He’s hiding from you?”

“He’s hiding from everyone.” She snaps. “He keeps vanishing in the middle of the day and won’t tell anyone where he’s going. He doesn’t go to any my parties anymore, and last week I caught him looking a fucking flowers.” Her face twists in disgust, and you realize the Announcer has taken the list from your hands and walked on stage, but you don’t really care. You’re rooted in place, trying desperately to piece this together. 

“Were, um, were the flowers for you-“

“No!” She shouts, throwing her hands up once more. “I think he has a fucking secret girlfriend or something, and he’s trying to hide it from Vought!” 

“Why would he, um, why would he hide it-“

“I don’t know.” Countess’ eyes narrow on you, and your mouth goes dry, your heartbeat loud in your ears. “But I’ll figure him out. He’s never bought me flowers.”

“Oh.” Your whole body is suddenly on edge. You need to go find Ben, now. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” She sighs, and you breathe a little easier when she asks, “Who are you?”

“I’m, um, a volunteer. With the charity.” You shrug, grateful she doesn’t remember that you’ve met before. It doesn’t seem like a good idea to give her your name. Not with the possibly stupid choice you’re about to make. “Excuse me, I have to go… take a shit.”

You turn on your heels before she can ask any other questions, and almost run down the halls. You don’t know what you’ll tell Ben when you find him, but you know you have to say something. If Countess is telling the truth—and you think she is, because she’s not really a good actress—then you need to find Ben and say something-

You freeze when you see him. Right where you left him in the hall, hair a little messier, jacket gone and tie undone, standing tall with a proud grin as he looks at the door to the office.

The door.

He’d fixed the door.

And when he turns to you, he’s smiling. For you. It’s not his plastered, over-exaggerated smile, the one that’s more blinding than the flashing cameras capturing it. It’s a real, strong smile. He says your name like he’d never want to say anything else, and you cut him off with a whisper.

“You never told me you that you sent those roses.”

“The roses?” Ben’s voice is low and cautious as he holds your gaze. “You mentioned you wanted flowers for your classroom, so I got you fucking flowers-“

“But why didn’t you say you got them?” You take a slow step towards him, and you could swear he stands a little straighter.

“Because I didn’t fucking think I needed to.” He grunts. “Who the hell else would be sending you flowers?”

“No one. But I didn’t- I thought it was a mistake. I didn’t think anyone would send me flowers.”

Ben frowns. “Did you throw them-“

“No. I kept them.” You give him a small smile, taking another step. “They were beautiful.”

“Good.” He mutters, his hands flexing at his side. “That was the goddamn point.”

You hum in agreement, glancing around him. “You fixed the door.”

“I fucking said I would-“

“And you turned down a hand job from Countess.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “And a blowjob, the bitch couldn’t understand that I-“ He cuts himself off, something hot flashing in his eyes as his voice drops. “How the fuck did you know that.”

“She told me.” Another step. You could touch him, if you tried. “And she said you haven’t slept with her for almost year. That you don’t tell anyone where you go when you vanish in the middle of the day.”

“It’s none of their goddamn business where I’m going. You don’t need the fucking press following you around.” He pauses, giving you a strange look. “And I haven’t slept with fucking anyone,” he mutters your name, and your breathing becomes shallow. 

“Why?”

Ben’s nostrils flare, and your knees might give out. You’re pretty sure he’d catch you, but you need to stay lucid long enough to hear him. To know that it’s safe to fall.

“I only want you, babygirl.” He takes his own step forward, and you can feel the heat of his body. “I’ve been fucking trying to tell you that for a goddamn year, but-“

You reach up to cover his hand with your mouth, scanning over his beautiful face. You think he’s telling the truth. And it doesn’t really matter if he’s not.

Because no matter what you’ve been telling yourself, your heart is already Ben’s to break.

You might as well give him a chance to try and keep it safe.

“Ben?”

He grunts against your hand, but doesn’t pry it away. He’s leaning into it. 

And you’re a goner.

“Ask me on a date.”

Your hand has barely moved when he catches it, presses a kiss to you knuckles, and speaks against your skin. 

“Let me take you on a date,” he mutters your name, and there it is. You give in. 

“Okay.” You smile at him, and he looks almost boyish with excitement. It’s a little intoxicating. “I’ll will.”

End Note: Once again saying I really think Ben just needs a cool wife to obsesses over and be violent for and he'd chill out.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

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@jackles010378 @ilovedeanwinchester4 @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @chi-raz

[staytinyzen]

(Mis)delivered Confessions

Bff!San x gn Reader no gender mentioned for reader (Friends to lovers trope)

Sending a message to the wrong person.

Warnings: slight swearing for the first part? Ig that’s it

Word count: ~ 900

Part 1 | Part 2

You were lying on your sofa legs draped over the armrest, typing on your phone as you helped your friend draft a confession text.

"Y/N, I can't do this! There's no way I can tell him!" she almost yelled through the speaker.

“Girl, chill. You're overthinking it. You just have to be honest. What could go wrong?" you replied, half-listening as you typed out a possible confession for her to send.

She had been crushing on a guy in her class who she befriended on the first day but didn’t know how to take the relationship further, she was freaking out so she asked for your help before losing her mind.

“Hi, this might be random and maybe not the best time but I've been holding this in for a while… I really like you. Every time I see you, I feel like my heart is gonna explode, I can't stop thinking about you. If you’re not feeling the same, I hope this won’t change a thing in our relationship and we can continue being friends…”

You glanced over the message, feeling satisfied. You hit send.

“There, I wrote it. All you have to do is send it. Easy, right?” You said happily.

“Thank you I’ll try, can you send it?”

You were confused, “Girl I just did ?”

“I cannot see it can you send it again ?”

“Wait…” You sat up straight on your couch and looked at your phone screen.

And then... sheer horror.

Because the name at the top of the chat wasn't hers.

It was “Sannie^⩊^”

Your best friend.

Your neighbor.

“Oh fuck…” you really fucked up.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no!” you groaned, scrambling to your feet as panic set in.

Your friend asked what was happening as she had no clue what was going on.

“Oh no I did not just do that”

“Just tell me what’s happening!”

“I did actually send the message but not to you but to San… OH MY GOD!! I can’t delete it either, I have to tell him it’s not meant for him, I’m so dumb”

San.

The person you had spent countless nights watching movies with, stealing food from, and leaning on when life got rough—whether that meant venting about a bad day, sitting in comfortable silence, or simply knowing he was there, always ready to catch you when you stumbled.

Panicked, you scrambled to type:

"Wait!! That wasn’t for you! OMG, please ignore that!!"

Ironically, while pushing your friend to confess to this guy, you were pushing your own feelings to the side, not wanting to lose him, the person you cared about the most and loved so much that you preferred ignoring whatever you felt.

Yeah, great job. So much for telling your friend "it's easy" and the whole "what could go wrong?" speech.

You were panicking, even if you were to explain the situation, things would be awkward.

Soon enough three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

You stared blankly at your screen.

You felt like you might throw up.

“I’ll call you later okay ?” You ended the call without waiting for her response, her crush can wait a bit.

You were still standing in the middle of your living room not knowing what to do.

Suddenly your phone buzzed:

Sannie^⩊^: “Oh. Got it”

That was it? Just “Oh. Got it”?! No teasing? No jokes? He always teased you!

Your phone buzzed again.

Sannie^⩊^ : “Who was it for?”

Your breath caught. For some reason, you didn’t want to explain the whole situation it felt too… complicated. It really wasn’t meant for him but what if it was the universe just pushing you because you’ve been hiding for a long time yet you weren’t ready for that.

So you took the coward’s way out :

“It doesn’t matter. Just ignore it.”

Sannie^⩊^: “Okay.”

The awkwardness in that one word made your stomach twist.

You groaned, throwing yourself onto your sofa. Maybe if you stayed here long enough, you’d just disappear.

But then—

A knock at your door.

You frowned. It was late. Who—

Another knock. Louder this time.

With a sinking feeling, you opened the door.

And there stood San, messy tousled hair, hoodie slightly askew, neckline slightly off, he probably just threw it on before coming over, he looked hot… and—frustrated?

“You’re seeing someone?” he blurted out, stepping inside before you could answer.

“What?” You blinked, slowly closing the door.

San ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tense. “You wouldn’t tell me who that text was for. And it wasn’t me. So who is it?”

You gaped at him. “Why do you care?”

His eyes flickered. “I—” He hesitated, then scoffed. “I don’t. I’m just… surprised, that’s all.”

“San.” You crossed your arms. “Are you jealous?” You asked trying to joke and ease the tension.

He scoffed again—too quickly. “No.”

But his ears were red.

Your heart pounded. “Then why are you here?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked away. “I just… I thought—” He exhaled sharply. “I thought I had more time.”

Your breath caught. “Time?”

His gaze locked onto yours, raw and unguarded. “Time before you fell for someone else.”

Silence…

A shaky laugh escaped you. “San…”

He swallowed hard. “Tell me it wasn’t supposed to be me.”

You hesitated. A part of you wanting to explain the misunderstanding.

His voice dropped almost whispering“Tell me, and I’ll drop this.”

Your heart screamed at you, but you were frozen.

Maybe you were meant to send that text to him after all.

Next

[gremlingottoosilly]

Bimbo!Reader that is so convinced Pushover!König has no sexual interest in her, she doesn't mind when he walks in on her masturbating

Konig knew his love life with you ended before it even started when he just walked in on you jerking off, and you just asked if the porn you were playing was too loud. You asked if he wanted to parallel-play masturbate with you later, and he fucking agreed because why not. It's not like he didn't want to whip his cock out and shower you in his cum a while ago, and it's not like he didn't want all of this and something even more. It's just that he can't believe you would seriously not see a problem in his seeing you naked. That you can simply change in front of him and ask for a comment on your bra size without it being flirting. That you're not just taunting him - you're genuinely this naive. Konig offers to help you masturbate, and you use his rough, calloused hands as a soft surface to grind on, your pussy leaking juices all over his knuckles. He doesn't know how he managed to hold his cock from cumming the second he felt the heat of your pussy lips pressing against his skin, but it must have been years of training to resist torture...and still, he would take a hot metal rod showed up his ass than seeing your bright eyes with no thoughts behind them, looking at him like he was your pet dog. Konig doesn't understand how you can touch his dick and make him cum with just your fingertips, and still believe that he is not interested in you. He never thought he could be this whipped for a woman who doesn't even realize that he is a man for half of the time, but he holds your picture in his chest plate pocket when he is at deployment and suffers through dumb jokes of his recruits about "his wife" looking like a bimbo. Little do they know that he will make you his wife eventually - whether you like it or not.

[specialgradefckr]

Catching Strays

Satoru Gojo is rich. Obscenely so.

But he's also busy - too busy to have time to meet someone and go through all the song and dance of dating and having a relationship.

The hookups... even being a certified fantastic top tier lay, it's just not doing it for him anymore.

He wants that connection. The intimacy. The personal knowledge and inside jokes and soft affection that comes with a relationship.

And sure, some of it is on him. He's got a fun personality - jokes and jibes and little remarks that he really doesn't mean badly, but tend to be taken in certain ways.

("That's a lot of words to say I'm an asshole." His last potential date had snapped. "Even with a face like yours, people have standards. My life doesn't revolve around you.")

Really, he's nice when you get to know him! But he's also lonely, and bored, and every hobby he tries out never lasts more than a couple days.

It's hard, being as naturally talented and intuitive and as intelligent as him. Everything gets old so fast. It's all too easy.

Gets him wound up. He's got so much energy. And the one thing that never gets old to him? Other people.

So when he meets new people he can be sort of... overwhelming. Overly familiar. Annoying. Clingy.

(Okay, maybe he's a little bitter about how that last one. He'd offered to pay her bills! Why was she so worked up over her dumb career? He had way more money, and he was plenty generous with it!)

Lately, he's been toying with a different solution to his problems - hybrids.

They're like people, just basically as pets (which sounds a little messed up when he thinks about it, so he promptly stops thinking, and the problem goes away) - companions who can live with him, eat with him at mealtimes, cuddle up and even provide some intimacy.

That sort of thing is apparently frowned on, but who cares? It's not like he'd ever force anyone. One look at him and they'd be begging for it.

Do you ever think about anyone besides yourself? You're going to wake up alone one day, with no one to put up with your selfishness.

And besides, they'd live together! They'd become friends naturally!

Yeah... a pet would be great for a busy guy like him. Just some cute thing sitting and waiting for him at home, ready to jump on him as soon as he's back.

("Gojo, you barely take care of yourself. You think you can take care of another person?"

"Please, I've looked this up! Cat hybrids are especially independent. Come on, can't you see me with a cute little kitty curled up in my lap?"

"You're actually hopeless.")

Shoko doesn't know what she's talking about. He can be responsible, he simply chooses not to, because life is easier that way. But cats are easy to take care of!

He just has to find the right one. He's been to a couple shelters, but none of the hybrids there have spoken to him.

It's kitten season, apparently - they're really pushing the young ones on him. But Satoru, despite what Shoko thinks, is responsible. He's looking for something older, mature, able to take care of itself (and also consent).

And what does he see as he strolls through a less-wealthy part of town on his way to his favorite ramen shop?

A cute little stray, big pleading eyes and a sign saying "Anything Helps", tail curled up around you as you look up hopefully to passing strangers.

His heart squeezes a little at the sight. There's a small dish in front of you with a scattering of spare change.

Satoru stops, mid-stride, backing up and grinning down at you.

Looks like it's this kitty's lucky day.

So... it turns out it's not so simple to adopt a stray hybrid.

It's a little annoying. You're a sorry, scraggly thing, begging for scraps in a dingy side corner.

And yet you seem to take some kind of issue with his generous offer of adoption.

Satoru supposes he can forgive you for not trusting a stranger, but he brought you out for ramen! You sat with him for the whole meal! That's longer than ninety percent of his dates have tolerated him!

Deep down, some voice is echoing the same old taunts in different words.

Even a stray off the street doesn't want your company. The best you can do is bribe people to love you, and even with all your money, the love runs out quick.

Funny how the voice sounds a lot like his mother! When talking to his dad, of course. Not him. His parents both loved him.

They'd sent him to the most expensive schools, bought him all the latest and greatest of everything, gave him a penthouse and a vacation home as a graduation gift.

Only, it was sort of big for him to live in all by himself. Satoru tries explaining it to you, but you're reluctant for some reason.

It's hard to tell, between all your stammering and nervous trailing off. How you seemed to stare at him, distracted by his beauty.

Heh. He does get that a lot. But you're the cutest, sweetest, most darling creature he's ever laid eyes on, all pathetic and needy-eyed, and he's not going home without a kitty today.

"What do I have to do to make you come with me?" Satoru says it bluntly. "I have money. All the money you could ever want. You can eat bluefin tuna every day-"

"I eat the blue tunas all the time," You interrupt him eagerly, "The ones in the can!"

"Not those - it's - listen, just tell me you'll come back with me!" He really wants to take you home now. You're just too cute.

Your ears droop (oh my GOD it's so adorable), "I'm sorry, I... I don't know. I need to get back to my spot before Suguru comes looking for me."

A dark feeling seems to creep over him like a shadow. You have an owner? And he's making you beg out on the streets?

Well, you are a very convincing cutie. But Satoru doesn't support scam artists! He makes you eat canned tuna.

You do seem to be in relatively good condition, though, now that he takes a second look at you. No fresh cuts or bruises, not a scratch. Your clothes are worn and dirty but you're surprisingly well groomed otherwise.

"And you want to go back with him? I'm way richer," Satoru says, crossing his arms, looking down at you over his glasses.

"Oh, uh, Suguru is also a stray," You say sheepishly, tail swaying gently, "He's my friend. He takes care of me, I could never leave him behind."

Something twists in his chest. You didn't want to leave your friend - that was why.

One pet was already a reach for him, really. But taking in you both?

Give it up already. You're not capable of love. You aren't capable of caring about anyone besides yourself. You're selfish, and you're fine with it.

You'll die alone, Gojo.

He smiles at you, a wide, easy grin.

"I've got room for two."

Read the next part here!