#so i could see how people who watched it when it was originally aired are still obsessed

[misplacedlizard]

I wouldn't normally consider the feeling of personal satisfaction from completing a crossword puzzle "praise," but lets accept that definition for the sake of argument.

Let's say someone invited me to their home for movie night, then paused in the middle of Raiders of the Lost Ark, and refused to let me watch the rest of the film unless I correctly completed a crossword puzzle first.

If I complete the puzzle, watch the rest of the film, and the host praises me for finding the ark of the covenant and stopping the nazis I'm gonna look at him weird, because I certainly didn't do that!

If I complete the puzzle, watch the rest of the film, and the host praises me for completing the puzzle... I'm still gonna think that's weird, because it's just a crossword puzzle, it's not a big deal, and also who stops a film in the middle to force someone to do a crossword puzzle, but it'll probably find it less weird than the above.

If the same thing happens with a film adaption of The Final Problem, and when I finish the puzzle, the host criticizes me for how long it took me to do so, I'm not gonna like it, but I'm not gonna argue that hard, because, as an action I actually took, I can't deny how long it took me.

If the above happens, and when I finish the puzzle and the film plays out, the host criticizes me for killing Sherlock Holmes, because I could have stopped writing on that crossword puzzle at any time, and then charges me for coming and watching the movie with him, I'm not going back to his house ever again, because he has no grip on reality.

In games with linear narratives, the player might control the character, but the player is not the character. The character can have their own arcs and choices separate from the actions of the player. (How many times have players easily beaten a boss without a scratch, only for the cutscene afterward to depict the player character struggling to so much as stand in the face of such a challenging opponent, or vice versa?) Like most fiction, some audience members might relate to a particular character's struggle more than others, but a video game character overcoming their depression has certainly never been the sole factor in a player overcoming theirs. In these works, the gameplay is less "controlling the narrative" and more "turning the page."

You can witness this disconnect between the actions of the players and the actions of the characters even further by listening to how people talk about their accomplishments in games. Very rarely do you hear "I finally rescued Peach and saved the Mushroom Kingdom." More often it'll be phrased as "I finally beat Bowser!" or "I got a no hit-run on stage 8!" The things they will receive "praise" for are their feats of skill, not their moral choices. This occurs less often in games with less linear stories, because the element of choice in the narrative means that a player is doing more than just turning the page, and is in some small ways, controlling the narrative. In these special cases, criticism of a player's moral actions can make slightly more sense.

Spec Ops The Line wants to have its cake and eat it too. It wants to criticize players (directly, in fourth-wall breaking ways, not just the in-game character,) for making bad moral choices, while giving the player a movie that stops and starts based on their ability to solve the "use gun on other man" puzzle, rather than any meaningful choices bar the one "shoot into the air" example every video essay praising the game brings up, or "JuSt DoN't PlAy ThE gAmE! But no refunds!"

I see no reason to respect the game, or its ham-fisted message.

But lets apply your standard consistently: should anyone who started the original Mario or Legend of Zelda, and quit because it was too hard, or they didn't have time, be criticized for letting the princess die alone and forgotten in her arch-nemesis's dungeon? Should they hold the sole blame for the fall of Hyrule or the Mushroom Kingdom? Better yet, should every death even a successful player incurred be treated as a bad timeline, and the player criticized for? And what of those that never bought the game at all? They had a choice to help, or sit back and do nothing as Ganon and Bowser pillaged and burned, after all.

If I started talking like that to people, they'd rightfully look at me as crazy. So what's the difference here?

Spec ops the line be like

[utterly-bored]

It's honestly crazy how alive the merlin fandom still is

Like during the pandemic i thought it was normal since yk .. every fandom was alive at that time

But now I just think its merlin itself ... its been so long and yet i still see so many posts about it

I love it

[sistertotheknowitall]

Danny is Some Guy with a not so secret admirer.

Part four? Post #four? I don’t know, none of these are exactly in order. Post one, post two, post three.

——

By the time Tim opened the door, Danny had his coffee made and handed to Mia at the register. He resolutely ignored her smug face and went back to making the other orders.

Tim had been a regular long before Danny had started at the coffee shop but it was three days into Danny’s third week when Tim had stumbled in at eight a.m. and did a double take upon seeing Danny. A very obvious double take followed by intense staring before Mia had cleared her throat. The blush that lit up Tim’s face was only rivaled by the one on Danny’s.

He had never had anyone openly stare at him before.

Mia had been insufferable ever since.

It also didn’t help that shortly after their first meeting Tim had started taking his breaks at the little coffee shop. It’s been three weeks, nearly a month and Wayne Enterprise’s CEO went from a bi-weekly regular to an everyday one. (Danny wondered if he should be concerned for the man’s caffeine intake but he only had the one cup every time so probably not.)

Originally, Danny had no plans to talk to Tim. It seemed obvious the guy had a crush on Danny if the constant looks over his laptop were anything to go by and Danny didn’t want to encourage it. Danny barely had time to make new friends let alone start a relationship.

There was also the added problem of what was quickly becoming his bat stalkers. How do you explain to someone that you were being watched by Gotham’s vigilante’s for no reason? (Or worse because he had made a poorly timed sleep-deprived comment.) Danny didn’t think you could without seeming suspicious.

Incidentally though, Danny’s plan went out the window when on a slow afternoon as he was cleaning tables and passed behind Tim. Once he saw the article the other man was reading he snorted.

Bruce Wayne and The Batman? Could This Be A New Romance For Gothams Most Beloved Billionaire?

It was one of those gossip rags that printed things like: Elvis: alive and well and Superman: a mild mannered farm boy? It was all nonsense.

Danny asked Tim why he bothered with the site and Tim responded that he found it amusing to read and that his family had a group chat where they sent the articles to each other.

“Okay. But Batman? Really? Your dad could do so much better.”

“You don’t like Batman?” Tim asked. Danny had slid into the chair next to him and shrugged. “I respect what he does but for as intimidating as he is, he also seems a little silly.”

Tim had given him an incredulous look and Danny hadn’t given him time to ask for an explanation, “and his kids can be just as rude. Like that flying monkey one.” Tim choked on air and Danny politely waited for him to calm down. “Kids? Wait - flying monkey one? Which one -?”

“The one always doing back flips with the blue bird symbol. He’s also a dick that gives hypocritical lectures about fighting.” Danny wouldn’t say he hated the guy but he wasn’t sure how many more lectures he could endure before going ghost and fighting him.

Tim had turned to Danny completely and was watching him with a look of disbelief, “you mean Nightwing?”

“Is that his name? Imma call him Dickwing.”

Tim had started choking again, this time Danny patted his back hoping to help. Yet it was all for not once he kept talking, “I think I’ve only had positive interactions with the one who looks like a walking red flag.”

“Red flag? Do you men hood-?”

“No, although he is definitely a red flag, I mean the other Red one. I’m sorry, I don’t know all these peoples names yet.”

“Danny!” Mia called.

Danny stood and patted Tim, who looked a little shell-shocked, on the shoulder. “Well work calls, see you later Mr. Drake-Wayne.” As he walked away he heard Tim mutter “it’s just Tim.”

(Tim for his part, placed his head in his hands and thought, well at least I have his name now.)

After that first interaction Tim stopped playing the lurker and started to actually talk to Danny and vise versa. Danny never asked if he still had a crush on him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Unfortunately, their growing friendship had only encoraged Mia as she happily sang “your boyfriend’s here!”

Danny, very maturely, did not stick his tongue out at her. He did however flip her off under the counter like an adult.

[nanenna]

Jeez Louise This is a Mess

Sleepy King (Nenna edition) Master Post

Apologies in advance, I'm not very familiar with John Constantine, trying to do anything from his perspective is definitely an unwise decision. I have chosen it anyway. He's almost definitely OOC.

---

John watched the Fentons and the mayor just saunter through the brand new hole in the mayor’s wall like this was just a normal Friday for them. Considering how weird the town was as a whole, it probably was. And he meant that by the old meaning of the word and as literal as one could possibly interpret it. He’d never been anywhere where the veil was so thin over such a large area, with æther so thick in the air of course it was affecting the locals. Probably had something to do with whoever or whatever had cloaked the whole town.

John turned to Tall Dark and Broody, “So, what happened to all the bugs and trackers you put on them originally?”

Batsy frowned, “Danny’s are still in the Fenton residence, expected since he clearly changed his clothes. His parents’ trackers and bugs all went offline not long after arriving home, the ones I placed inside the residence are malfunctioning.”

“And that’s not the least bit suspicious?” John asked.

“It’s incredibly suspicious,” Batsy said with a completely straight face before turning and also walking right out the brand new hole. “I suggest you actually use the comm I gave you earlier, they’re explaining the situation to Masters.”

Unfortunately Mr. Gargles Gravel for Breakfast had a point, John sighed and did put in the comm, though he knew it would be spotty with the use of magic to follow the group. Batsy and Wonder Woman could follow however they liked, John did not have the energy for that.

The comms were staticky, cutting in and out even without John’s abuse of the thin veil to quick step around town. Not surprising, the amount of pure death magic radiating off the two dead-alive people in that tank would be enough to mess with most electronics even if the veil weren’t practically non-existent.

“Somehow this place feels cozy,” Boston commented as he followed John.

“You would think so.”

The conversation on the comm was getting worse, the bugs were clearly slowly giving up the ghost. John only caught a few words here and there, and those were only because they were Ghost Speak, something that shouldn’t be possible for flesh and blood mouths to speak. It’s just bits and pieces, names and titles mostly, but if he’s understanding this right…

“Huh, that may change the situation a bit.”

“What are you going on about?” Boston asked.

“It sounds like Pariah isn’t the Ghost King anymore. But Batsy’s bugs are losing the war against æther, so when we get there you’re gonna need to go spy on them.”

“Will that work?”

“Try to keep out of sight, but even if you get caught the worst they’ll do is kick you out. Undead solidarity.”

Boston grumbled, but when John met back up with Batsy and Wonder Woman staring through a window right to where the group was talking, Boston did as he was asked and slipped right through the wall and inside. John cast a quick spell to spy through Boston.

Boston floated slowly into the room, seemingly becoming braver as the Fentons looked right past him without reacting. Unfortunately, he got a little too close to the one person in the room that could definitely see him. The kid jumped out of his seat in surprise.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” The kid whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at Boston. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

“Oh, you can see me? And ghost sense?”

“You don't know who I am?”

“Uh… Daniel Fenton?”

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“How about you tell me your name first?”

“I’m Deadman.”

The kid burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?” The sister asked.

“Huh?” The kid looked to his older sister, then back to Boston. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

The Fentons all shook their heads.

The creepy mayor came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

“I’m Deadman and I’m uh… lost?”

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” the kid added. He turned back to Boston, “Are you even a ghost?”

Batman, who’d spent the last few minutes getting into the perfect position while he waited for the most dramatic moment chose then to crash through the window. John started cursing as he rushed to climb in after the loon, already prepping a spell. The moment he had a clear line of sight he shot off the revelation spell at the kid.

It did… well not much.

Really about all it did was give the kid a couple extra accessories. He expected them, but he also expected it to somehow reveal the kid’s undead status too. Make him look all glowy and ghostly like he had when he’d first arrived last night, because John was pretty sure the kid hadn’t been kidnapped after all. Or at least not how they originally assumed, he was pretty sure some spirits considered an unwilling summons a kidnapping.

Still, there the crown was. Just floating over the kid’s head, toxic green æther flames around it like a death energy aurora. And like any teenager the kid seemed completely oblivious, having to be told the crown was even there. Once he got a hand on it though he said something odd, “Okay, crown retrieved.”

John just tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting to see what they were doing. Why did they think they needed to find the crown?

“We may have a problem,” The creepy mayor said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” The kid looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in the creeper’s. “Why are there two?”

And, well, John agreed. Why the fuck were there two? He already started muttering an identification spell as the kid turned to him.

“What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything,” John protested, “that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” The kid’s mom said while glaring at the him.

Of course things got dicey after that, the kid and the creepy mayor got into a fight over the second crown, things turned into a right mess, and John was quite content to let them squabble among themselves. He moved to go stand next to Batsy and Wonder Woman, Boston with him, waiting to see how this went.

Of course the tussle then turned into fighting over the ring on the kid’s finger, still blaming John for just revealing the crown and ring the kid had apparently had this whole time.

“Alright, that’s enough. Shut up!” John may have put a bit of intent into that, and it worked beautifully. The whole group stopped and stared at him, finally shutting up. The parents managed to get between the kid and the creeper, each one still with one of the crowns.

The crowns he now knew were both, somehow, legitimate.

John pointed at the kid, “Just call the crown, it’ll listen.”

The kid gave him a disbelieving look. “Oh sure, I’ll just,” he hunched forward a little bit, clapped his hands, and whistled like he was calling a dog, “here Crowny, Crowny, Crowny.”

For a brief moment nothing happened, then the creeper mayor jerked forward as the crown yanked itself from his hand. It went to go join the other crown floating over the kid’s head, one of them grew wider so the other could nestle inside it, both spinning in place but in opposite directions.

Everyone was staring at the display.

“What uh… what are they doing?” The kid asked nervously.

“They… like each other?” The sister asked skeptically.

“Great, wonderful, fabulous, just what I need in my life.” The kid sighed and turned to glare at John. “What. Did. You. DO?!”

“I didn’t do shit,” John replied, much to the parents’ combined horror. “Looks like somehow they’re both legit, my best guess is one of them isn’t from this timeline.”

“Oh,” the sister said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The Nasty Burger explosion happened after the fight with the king, right?”

“The what?” the kid’s parents asked.

“Oh,” the kid responded, “I’m starting to see why the council of eyeballs hates my guts.”

And wasn’t that a concerning sentence. John desperately needed a drink, thankfully he had a flask on him and chose that moment to take a swig. “Alright, so there should be a second ring too, no point leaving that on Dark’s finger in case he gets out again.”

“Vlad did it,” the kid said while pointing at the creeper.

“Excuse me!” Creeper actually put a hand to his neck, like some fainting Victorian lady.

“Vlad tried to steal the ring and crown, so he let Dark out of the sarcophagus and I had to go clean up his mess, like always.” The kid glared at the creeper, it was starting to paint a really concerning picture.

“I’m sure Vladdie was just trying to keep these powerful artifacts safe,” the kid’s dad said loudly and happily. Yeah, there was the concerning picture again.

“I’d believe it if all he took was the ring, but the crown was safely sealed away with Pariah and he let the guy out to steal it.”

“Just call the ring,” John said gruffly.

“Here Ragey, Ragey, Ragey.” The kid whistled and clapped his hands again. The ring showing up on the kid’s other hand was expected, the glowing green hell hound that came sprinting through the wall and practically tackled the kid wasn’t. “Cujo! Hi! Who’s a good puppy?!”

Keeriest, John needed a stiffer drink.

[san8ny]

Thinking about..Ex-girlfriend Ellie <3

[an: not an original trope, i cringed everytime i attempted to proof read so i couldnt..srry]

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who scoffs when you’re mentioned at all, but is all fucking ears, tilting her head back and giving the person a side eye,

“I mean..you can continue, not like I care at all but like, it’s rude to interrupt someone so..”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s once paid some instagram tarot reader a good 10 bucks to see if yall were compatible despite not believing in it before,

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s bitterly venmo requesting her money back when the girl says no,

“Shit isnt even real, you scammed me gimme it back bruh”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s definitely got a fake account to keep tabs on you, which might look, to the average eye, some middle aged woman who posts her food and her kids, with some biblical verses in her bio— when it’s ellie with some google found, random ass photos of people

“Im so fuckin smart..” she geeks, pumping her fist when you accept her follow request

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s looking down at her phone dumbfounded when she’s blocked on the account thr next day, throwing her hands in the air—forgetting just who she learnt that trick from..

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s even more confused when her door is knocked, you on the other side, phone in-hand with the same account pulled up,

“Er..that’s not me?..” She says awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck as she leans on her doorframe.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who cries dramatically and is on her knees when you tell her with a strict finger to leave her alone, practically groveling at your feet in pure anguish as she pleads!

“P-please! You don— you don’t understand! You can’t!”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who hiccups, eyes puffy with long lashes coated in tears as she wraps her arms around your calves—only you could ever have her in this state! I mean, look at how distraught she is at the sheer idea of possibly leaving you alone forever!

She doesn’t care in the slightest if the neighbors hit her with a noise complaint.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who soon enough has you on her bed, in a warm mating press, breathy moans of never having you leave her side, telling you she’d rather die than ever have anyone else fill your shoes as your sloppy cunts kiss, wet noises echoing off the drywalls of ellie’s cheap apartment,

“C—cum! Cum, nee— need you so..o—oh! Oh, my god? Loveyousomuch, loveyousomuch”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who’s an utter loser, pathetically feeling tears well up again as the idea of you getting up and taking your stuff after this hits— so she takes you for another round, this time with her 8inch strap.

It’s a disgusting mess, really.

Ex Girlfriend Ellie who you’ve got a twitchy mess as you use her so deliciously, quickly becoming overstimulated once more when she realizes she’s orgasmed like 5 times already; Milky fluids all over thighs as she ruts into you— fucking a mixture of your cums back into you with whats gathered around her strap.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie is pretty much in another word from the pleasure, mouth ajar as her moans leave in pants— begging for a kiss as her rosey tits bounce a bit against you

“Ple—uh, uh! Please, just ‘wan a kiss, c—can’t, uhm!— can’t reach yo—ou!” She whines tiredly, her sweaty upper body leaning forward on your back, littering sloppy kisses all over you, cmon..give her a kiss :(

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who you eventually give into, giving a chaste kiss to, but she doesn’t return the same one back— instead, opting to swipe her tongue around and suckle your blush coloured tongue, bobbing her head up and down while the saliva gathers on her tastebuds, excess dribbling down her chin and splattering somewhere on the already ruined bedsheets,

“F—wuckin’ wa—ah..’wan you all..”

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who watches you sleep while she lazily licks at your worn-out pussy, humming as she probes a finger on the engorged clit— giggling when you sleepily swat a hand down to push her head away, but she’s latched on.

Ex-Girlfriend Ellie who, even if you move a thousand miles away from, will always be there because she’s yours.

[kitbunnyroo]

thinking about...abandoned android boyfriend....

lemme apologize from now...this is a looong one. it could be structured better, but it's literally just me updating this over the course of some hours/days (?). hope you enjoy this ridiculously long tidbit thooo! <3 (help y'all hit that 30 fast....tyyy!)

also omg thank you all for all the love on the centaur man post??? we love big strong bby fr, 100% will bring him back if y'all wanna see more of him 🤍🤍 (also, not proof read nothing i write is, so forgive any errors plsss)

like picture it, you just find him in a scrap yard cause your pet ran into it or something right...and you can tell that he's functioning, so you're confused as to why he got put for scrap? considering these things are crazy expensive, and the people who threw him out were ever so kind enough to leave all his original packaging, you took him back home.

it did take a while to get his station set up in a little corner, but it wasn't too bad, especially as you looked into the illuminated green eyes of the android who stood a good head or two taller than yourself once you figured out how to get him up and running again.

after you explained in even greater detail how he came to be in your possession, you could almost hear the mechanics in his brain recalibrating all the missed system updates as he now addressed you as master/mistress. not ideal, but who are you to complain once he fixes the drip in your sink that almost cost you hundreds of dollars. maybe having an android in your home wouldn't be so bad.

time flies and you come to find out he was scrapped cause beyond functionality, he had somehow developed a conscious of sorts. which when you think about it, anybody else would be freaked out by their machine suddenly smiling and showing human emotions. was it freaky? hell yeah. was it bad?....not so much.

there was lots of reassurance to be done...he thought that once he started to slip and his consciousness shone through again you'd dump him to be scrap metal too...well, after they remove the scarily realistic skin-like material that outlines his hardware. "So...you're not going to power me off and box me up like the last family did..?" he'd find himself asking after long conversations about how you don't really care he got more human-like as the days went on. living on your own it isn't that bad to feel like you have extremely helpful company rather than a machine in your empty halls. and when he looks at you oh so sweetly? how can you not tell him this is his home too.

android housemate, doing his best to make sure you're always happy. always stress free. always well taken care of. always healthy. always satisfied. so when he's cleaning your room and finds a vibrator, he's everything and appalled. why would you have this when he's right here? was he not good enough? did you not want him to help you? was it his fault? but he simply places it on it's charger and closes your door. when you get home that day you can tell something's off, it's the same air as the early stages when he thought you'd throw him out. so you just make sure to be extra sweet to your caring housemate.

android housemate, now doing research on human pleasure, watching porn, reading all sorts of articles and Quora forums. this seems easy enough to do...he just doesn't understand why you wouldn't ask him to help. darling android housemate realizing that his fans start to go double time when the pixels start to look like you instead of whoever is actually in the videos...even more so when he realizes that's what an imagination is like and that his is picturing himself with you in these videos...he wonders if that can happen....

yandere (???) android housemate who's suddenly gotten all clingy once you're home. as usual, dinner is hot and plated, desert already lined up, but as you shower you can hear him making the time to pick out your outfit from your drawers instead of double checking all is well in the rest of the house...odd, but you don't pay the particularly revealing choice of clothing much mind. dinner goes as usual, till he offers you a much more...inviting? smile after you tell him about your grievances of the day. his eyes never leaving you, even as you eat and he updates minor software...you ask if he can close the windows cause there's a much too warm of a breeze coming in, and he's suddenly glad he has the capabilities to hide the blush that threatened to rise to his fabricated cheeks since it was just his fans. he was getting a bit too much enjoyment from the sight of you wearing an outfit he had picked, enjoying his meals that he makes you everyday, you chose him from the scrap yard that he's convinced held many other androids...

yandere (??) android housemate that's gotten cold to you since you brought home another human and claim that they're your partner. he'd thought that he was being clear with his consecutive months of flirting since his research began, but apparently not clear enough. now he's forced to watch as you bring this human over, it is nice to hear you brag about how lovely he treats you though, especially when he sees them almost shrink where they sit, obviously he can already tell they won't be able to treat you better than your housemate. how could they? they're just a weak human, and he's an android that's learnt every last one of your tastes.

yandere (?) android housemate that's gotten over his chilly attitude in favour of comforting you after your breakup and every proceeding one from then on. on one hand he doesn't enjoy seeing you hurt, but on the other hand he knows the only one meant for you is him, so he'll continue to let these humans know that they won't ever hold a candle to him when it comes to your affections. you don't have to be in pain, you just have to realize he's the one for you. and you can go back to your blissful life.

yandere...android housemate who's worried after you stumble through the door after a work/college party, clearly intoxicated out of your mind. he effortlessly picks you up and takes you to your room, laying next to you when you refused to let him go cause his generated warmth was nice compared to the cold of the air conditioned room. he listens to you babble on about who knows what, and then about your latest break up, and then he's shocked when you blurt out that he'd make such a good boyfriend if he wasn't an android...and somehow, somewhere in his wiring, that hurt? but it also lit something cause you went on to praise all he does for you, especially highlighting his advances and he comes to the conclusion that you only started looking for a human partner because you had assumed that although he had a conscious, he couldn't feel romance. and boy was he now determined to prove you wrong.

yandere. android housemate, now doing everything possible after that night to display romantic affection. sensual massages after particularly aggravating days where his fingers work wonders to the tension coursing through your body, at first you don't think much of it, but when you feel the spikes of breeze specifically from him after every one of your moans, you try to keep your voice down. he downloads them to his software though, and is quickly researching the different modifications available for his kind.

yandere android housemate that gets tired of being referred to by his model name and demands you give him a proper one. and you do. and he loves it. thankfully, he's still linked to the cards of his previous family, so he can make purchases using their money instead of yours without suspicion. he gets his "personal" modification made under their card, leaves right after you do for school/work, and he's back before you're home, already getting things sorted for when you're back. now he just has to hide the tent that forms whenever you call him by the name you gave him....

newly named yandere android...you're not sure anymore. after walking in on him far too many times since you're used to him usually being smooth, but now he has an...enticing, length of dick just hanging between his legs now, it's kind of awkward. even more so when you find yourself outside his newly appointed bedroom to ask him to do something, and end up overhearing his whiney voice floating through the air. now you can't help but wonder how it feels if the rest of his skin feels like regular human skin...maybe an android boyfriend won't be so bad after all...

your android housemate, putting in extra work to keep you happy once he realizes you're not bringing home any more humans. even the vibrator and any other toys you might've had are stored away rather than readily available near your bed. maybe if he does a good enough job, you'll finally ask him for help. you swear you see a subtle throb in his pants sometimes when the thought runs through his not so little android brain.

your android boyfriend with fans so loud when you finally ask him to touch you, that you could've sworn you misread his intentions. but as soon as you try to back out of the situation he's pulled you against his chest with one of hands deeply entangled in you hair while the other hugs you close to him, if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was desperate for that moment...that and the fact that once you're finally in bed he takes initiative to slip under your blanket next to you instead of going to his own room, his hands finding their way snugly around your waist to cuddle you but surely making their way lower down, quicker when he realizes that not only are not trying to stop him, but you're basically leaning into his touch. the frenzy he goes into when you whisper his name that you gave him has your legs quivering on his shoulders, toes pointed every which way as those same illuminated eyes stay glued to your body, confusingly realistic tongue moving more enthusiastically with every sound you make.

your android boyfriend. who now takes any chance he can get to ask if he can fuck you. if his tongue game was this good...what else was he capable of? the thought barely has time to run across your mind because as soon as you agree he's gonna have you folded in half and stuffed full of the most realistic dildo you've ever felt. it didn't feel fabricated in the slightest. from the throb of the veins in your walls to the way it drags so fucking good inside of you, and he makes sure to study your body as he goes. this particular spot made your eyes roll? he's going right back there. you like having you sensitive bits teased while his balls are slapping your skin so hard you can hear them through the wet mess? he's abusing them. by the time he's done you've came enough times to lose count, and best believe he makes sure to endlessly thank and praise you through every bit of it. comments of how good you make him feel, the dimming of his eyes enough to let you know he really does feel it, thanking you for letting him be this close to you, begging you not to go when you try to squirm away from the overstimulation (he calms down a bit so you can catch yourself whenever it's really too much), not to mention the starved kisses he gives you whenever the position allows (all the time). he'll have your back against the wall and hold you up so the only place you can go is further onto his cock while his tongue finally gets to explore your mouth. you'd never believe an android could be so adorably vocal. the moans, the whimpers, the whines. (he can't bring himself to degrade you though, sorry </3)

your android boyfriend making sure he puts the utmost effort into after care. if you let him hit, he's sure to run you a shower or bath of your preference, and trust that when you're out he's already got you a freshly made meal with an accompanying drink. he always makes sure to ask if he was too rough with you, gently massaging your muscles while you relax after your meal. if there's anything, anything at all you desire, he already does it for you, but now he'll go the extra miles if it means you'll be even happier.

your android husband, proposed after years of taking you out on the most wonderful dates, planned more of the wedding than you did since he only wanted you to worry about looking your best, he does let you help if you want though <3. android husband who can't cry, but you almost swear you see him sobbing as you walk (or he walks if you'd prefer) down the aisle, the tears slowing down but never to a complete stop till it's finally time for the "I do"s. your android husband who takes you on a splendid honeymoon of nothing but relaxation, good sights and food, and even better sex. he knows he can't get you pregnant, but that doesn't mean he can't try extra hard once the topic of children roll around. if you do want children though, he's not against adoption (or a sperm donor once their background checks out)

(for his family he invited his previous family, who were surprisingly chill with him using their cards to fund your vacations and now wedding...talk about rich rich)

your android husband <333.

this totaled to 2,264 words (woah??), and i can NOT lie?? i like it. hope you enjoyed this terribly long read and tysm again for all the support like hello!!🤍✨

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

They're Mates - with Y/N Pt 1

Summary - Feyre meets Rhys's Inner Circle and witnesses the strength of the mating bond.

Warnings - abusive family mentioned.

Other Notes - 1k words; Please note that most of these lines/plot points are inspired or directly quoted from ACOMAF; I originally posted this where Reader was given the name 'Vee' but am putting this one out for anyone who might prefer y/n.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || They’re Mates Universe Masterlist

✨💫

Feyre looked up to see the same two males from earlier standing in the doorway, grinning, and a new presence. A beautiful female with wings like the others. She wore a deep blue gown that reached the floor––her hair resting over both her shoulders. The two males wore black leather with a sword strapped against their backs. Feyre noted the power each of them seemed to hold.

The male who was a bit large than the other, spoke up with a light chuckle. “We don’t bite. Unless you ask us to Feyre.”

The female shot him a pointed look. “Last time I checked, nobody wanted to take you up on that offer, Cassian.” The male who stood between the female and Cassian let out a light, short, laugh before whispering something into the female’s ear making her eyes twinkle subtly. Feyre watched as Cassian gave his own pointed look.

“No secrets in front of our guest, Az,” Cassian said with a grin.

The light danced across their faces allowing Feyre to observe their physical features for a moment. Similar to Rhysand, all three were dark-haired. Both males had tanned skin and hazel eyes. Feyre couldn’t quite tell the eye color of the female standing next to Az, but she gave off an air of beauty and power.

Cassian grinned again, looking Rhys and Feyre up and down. “You made poor Feyre dress up, brother,��� he said before winking in her direction. His features were rough like someone had molded him, from the earth.

The second male was more classically beautiful, though hard to read. He was certainly the one who would be a surprise in the dark, the hidden knife. Feyre noticed the light sparkle in his eyes anytime he looked at the female to his left. It piqued a curiosity in Feyre.

Rhys said, “Azriel––my spymaster,” indicating the one in the middle. He then indicated the female. “Y/N. An emissary for the Night Court.” A name, Feyre later learned, Az had adopted for the emissary after she declared she did not want the name her abusive family had given her.

She immediately offered her hand with a warm smile. “Welcome, Feyre.” She gently squeezed Feyre’s hand before she quickly let go and Feyre does her best to not seem eager as she stepped back to stand next to the High Lord of the night Court, again.

“You’re brothers?” Feyre asked. The two males before her looked similar. The kind of similar where people who come from the same place do, not familial similar.

“All bastards are brothers in some sense,” Rhys responded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Before Feyre could ask Cassian said, “And I command Rhys’s armies.”

Feyre nodded, shifting on her feet slightly before her eyes glanced to see Azriel taking another glance in the emissary’s direction. She looked right back with a smile that showed a clear fondness for the spymaster. The moment went as quickly as it came when Az turned his gaze to Feyre. “Cassian also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand, good luck.”

Feyre was giving more attention to not being recognized as the girl Under the Mountain. She wondered, for just a moment if they knew––maybe they didn’t. That was quickly  answered when Cassian nudged past the Night Court’s spymaster requiring Az to flare his wings to keep himself balanced. Feyre watched Y/N’s hand fall to Azriel’s lower back to assist. Feyre noticed the fleeting moment of eye contact between the spymaster and the emissary, but it quickly became a second thought as Cassian asked his question about how Feyre had made the bone ladder in the Middengard Wyrm’s lair, when as he put it, “you looked like your own bones could snap at any moment.”

Y/N shot Cassian another pointed gaze, but it turned into a grin after Feyre made a sarcastic comment of her own. The general laughed and Azriel’s eyebrow lifted with approval as the shadows swirled around him, tighter. Feyre’s need to understand the gift only furthered when the shadows swirled up and around Y/N’s wrist playfully, before weaving around the ends of her hair.

Her curiosity once again was pushed to the side when Feyre heard, thankfully, a familiar voice…Mor. “I hope Cassian’s howling means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth.”

Y/N quickly whispered something into Az’s ear, his shadows lightened slightly from around him. Feyre’s curiosity about the nature of their relationship increasing.

“I don’t know why I forget you two are related,” Cassian told Mor, while glancing over at Rhys for just a moment. “You two and your clothing.” The High Lord rolled his eyes, but Feyre had her own focus on the emissary and the spymaster who were both standing in silence, stealing glances at each other.

“I wanted to impress Feyre. You could have tried to make an effort to comb your hair,” Mor responded.

Cassian braced his feet a little farther apart on the floor in a fighting stance Feyre recognized, perhaps too well. “Unlike some people, I have better things to do with my time than sit in front of the mirror for hours,” the general bit back.

“Yes,” Mor the said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “since swaggering around––”

“We have company,” Azriel said in a soft warning, spreading his wings as he tried to herd everyone.

“Relax, Az,” Mor said as she dodged the spymaster’s outstretched wing. “We won’t fight. We promised Rhys.”

Feyre barely noticed Az stop in his tracks, letting out the smallest of huff and his shadows seem to become thicker. She then watched as Y/N took one of Az’s hands in her own, gently pressing her lips to the back of it. His shadows lightened around him. Apparently the question about their relationship reached Feyre’s face because Rhys leaned down slightly to say, “They’re mates. Azriel and Y/N. They’ve known each other a little over 500 years and been mates just under 500.”

Feyre considered that fact, thinking there was something delicately beautiful about nearly 500 years of commitment between the two. Now she just had a few thousand more questions about the court’s spymaster and emissary. Question she decided were for another time as Mor indicated the empty seat beside her. Feyre knew the image of Az whispering into his mate’s ear and the twinkle in her eye would be etched into the back of her mind forever.

[elliezato]

‪‪❤︎‬She's Jealous‪‪❤︎‬

pairing: modern!ellie williams x reader

summary: Ellie gets jealous when she sees you kissing another girl

warnings: MDNI! cursing, drugs/alcohol, fingering, bathroom sex, public sex??

a/n: This is my first fanfic so idk how to feel about thisss. Also, I feel like this story isn't very original but I keep replaying this situation in my head, helpp. I'm open to recommendations! I will probably only write ellie x reader fics for now but let me know what you want and I'll write it! I get writer's block and need inspo!! Anyway... I hope you enjoy:)

♡︎.You and Ellie have been broken up for about a month now.

Parties have never really been your thing but your friend Dina has been begging you to go to one with her.

"It's been almost a month. You can't keep isolating yourself in your dorm like this."

You lay on your bed while Dina tries to convince you to go out tonight. She's right though. Things haven't been the same since you and Ellie broke up.

"Listen. Come to the party tonight. I hate that this breakup is holding you back. who knows. maybe you'll meet someone!"

Dina leaves and you make up your mind.

You change into a pleated mini skirt and throw on some baby tee you haven't worn since your relationship. Ellie liked it when you wore skirts and you knew that. Some part of you was hoping she would be there so she could see you. You apply a thin wing of eyeliner and put on your docs.

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

Later that night you walk into the party. The house smells of weed and music covers the sound of people talking. You see Dina and Jesse from across the room. They're drinking and dancing with a few other of your friends. You hesitantly walk over to join them.

"Y/N!! thank god you're here!" Dina hugs you with one arm and a drink in the other.

"Damn, this is the first time I've seen you out since... you know" Jesse laughed as he took a sip from a red solo cup.

You sat on the couch and drank as you watched your friends enjoy the night. You hated yourself that you couldn't get up and have fun. The air felt hot and there was nothing left in your cup. As you get up to get another drink you feel eyes on you.

There she was. Ellie stood there with a drink in her hand. Your heart sank. This was the first time you've been in the same room as her since the heat of the breakup. Her eyes were on you as you slowly walked past her to get a drink. You look at the ground as you pass her, doing everything you can to avoid eye contact. When you look up to get another cup, you see Ellie standing in front of you. As she opens her mouth she say something to you, you feel hands on your waist.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing at a party alone?" The girl looks you up and down with a soft smile on her face.

From the corner of your eye, you see Ellie take a sip from her drink and walk away. You feel yourself sadden as Ellie leaves your presence. Fingers run down your waist. You look behind you and the girl is still there. It's been a long time since someone has hit on you. Honestly, the last time you romantically got attention from someone was with Ellie.

"You alright? What's upsetting you baby?" The girl whispers in your ear.

At this point, you'll do anything to get your mind off Ellie. A new relationship isn't what you want but it couldn't hurt. You turn around and face the girl. You've never seen her before but she's honestly really pretty. It wouldn't be hard to distract yourself around someone this attractive.

"m'nothin" The alcohol is hitting you. Usually, you'd feel guilty flirting with anyone other than Ellie, but right now, nothing matters.

She pulls you closer by your waist and passionately places a kiss on your lips. The sudden proximity makes you tense. Her hand travels down your hips while the other grabs your face. Something about this feels wrong but you push the thoughts back.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I came with my friend and promised I wouldn't leave her" You lied so bad, you almost cringed.

You remove yourself from the girl's grasp and take your drink as you walk away from her. The pain of the breakup is sinking in again. You wander around the party to find Dina but she's off with Jesse. There's no point in being at that party anymore. You down the rest of your drink and walk outside. The air is cold and dry. Snow falls gently as the music from the party echoes.

"What the fuck were you doing? Kissing another girl? Already?" Ellie stares at you with a joint between her lips.

"Ellie." You look at her in shock.

"We've been broken up for barely a month and you're already making moves on other women!?" She laughs under her breath as a cloud of smoke leaves her lips.

"Why do you even care. We're not together" You look at her with sad eyes. The tough act was never your strong suit.

She grabs your face with one hand and tilts your head towards her. You gasp at her touch. Snow falls down on the both of you. Your breath is visible in the cold air and the only thing keeping you warm is the heat of the situation.

"Are you trying to make me jealous, hmm?" She looks at you with lustful eyes.

"No! she kissed me..." Your voice trails off as you feel the touch of Ellie's fingers trace your jaw.

Nothing could've prepared you for this. The last time you two spoke was the breakup. This was a topic that was hard for the both of you. Clearly, the thought of the other stayed lingering in your minds. Her touch felt nice. You could feel yourself practically melting in her hand. The similar scent of weed got stronger as her face got closer.

"It worked." She takes one last hit of her joint before tossing it on the ground.

"What?" You look at her dazed and confused. Your eyes soften as her fingers trail down your neck

"I'm jealous." She admitted as she tightened her grip on your face. "Let's go back inside and show them who you belong to, yeah?" Ellie gives you a dirty grin.

You follow her back into the party. Even with Ellie, you didn't want to be back in there but that didn't matter in the moment. She walks through the crowd of people holding on tightly to your waist. You look over at her face a notice a cocky grin stuck to her lips. You can feel the eyes of the other girl you were with earlier staring at you. Ellie notices the girl staring at you. She grabs your face in front of her and kisses you. You pause as her lips touch yours. You missed this. Fuck. You missed her touch so bad. Leaning in for more, Ellie playfully pushes you away.

"God you're just as needy as I remembered." She pulls you away from the crown and leads you into an empty bathroom.

Ellie pushes you against the door causing it to shut behind you. Her lips passionately press against yours. You let your hands roam her figure. Fingers running underneath her baggy band tee. She grabs your hands and pulls them away.

"You're not getting it that easily" She glares at you as she takes your wrists by one hand and holds them above your head. "I'm going to make sure everyone knows how good I'm fucking you" Her breath is hot against your ear.

Her tongue explores your mouth and her other hand runs up your shirt. You let out a soft moan as her fingers draw circles around your nipple. She lets go of your hands and strips off your shirt. Her kisses move down your neck, leaving marks for everyone to know she you were hers. Her tongue reaches your nipples and she traces small circles around them. Her mouth moves further down your chest. Fingers moving down your waist meeting the hem of your skirt. She stops kissing your body and looks up at you. Her fingers slide up your skirt and meet your damp underwear.

"Fuck- You're so wet and I've bearly touched you" She continues kissing down your waist.

She pulls your underwear down your legs and throws them off. Her fingers finally graze your wet folds. She picks you up by your waist and places you on the counter. The granite is cold against your thighs. She sloppily kisses your lips as she inserts a finger into you. You throw your head back and hum at her touch. She grabs your chin and forces you to look at her.

"Look at me while I fuck you with my fingers." She glares up at you. Her face is desperate to feel you.

Your hands run through her hair as she pulls her finger out. She adds another finger and slams them into you. You hold the counter with one hand and the other pulling at Ellie's half-up half-down updo. You're holding in your moans remembering there's a crowd of people right behind that door. You close your eyes as Ellie curls her fingers inside of you, hitting the right spots.

"Fuck Els- s'good" You quietly whimper trying to hold back.

Tears are forming in your eyes. You can feel the warmth building up in your stomach. Ellie can feel you're close. She stops her motions and pulls her fingers out of your cunt. Your slick coats her fingers, dripping down her arm. She brings her fingers to your mouth. You clean Ellie's fingers with your tongue, whimpering for more action.

"I'm not going to give you anything if you're not going to moan for me. I want to hear you" Her fingers slide out of your mouth and find their way back down to your inner thighs.

"They're gonna hear" You bite your lip as your thighs press together.

"That's the point baby. Tell me how bad you've missed me" She keeps eye contact as she moves her face down to your hips.

She pulls your tighs apart, spreading your folds with her finger. Her tongue rests right above your clit, waiting for you to beg.

"Fuck- I need you Els. I need you to fuck me." You give into her commands wanting to feel her touch.

She finally complies and licks circles around your puffy bud. She thrusts her fingers into you once again while tasting you on her tongue. You squirm under her touch. Pornographic moans leave your lips as she starts to suck your clit. Tears fill your eyes as you look down at Ellie taking you in.

"You taste so good, I've missed your pretty pussy" She smiles against your folds removing her fingers.

The vibrations of her voice cause you to moan as you push her face closer to you. Her tongue slides down your folds and she pushes it into you. At this point, you're a moaning mess. Anyone who walks by that bathroom knows what's happening. Her nose gently rubs against your clit as her tongue fucks you.

"mmm~ i'm gonna fucking cum-" Your hips grind against her face.

She holds your waits pulling you closer. Her tongue slides out and sucks your cunts as her fingers push deep inside you. The heat in your stomach feels like it's going to burst. Only Ellie could have you panting and desperate to cum like this in a bathroom.

"That's it baby, cum for me okay?" She feels how close you are.

Her pace fastens as she gets you to release onto her fingers. Your hips buckle as whimpers and moans fill the room. She continues but slows her pace milking your orgasm. She licks the wetness from your cunt and you pant in her arms.

"I missed you" Your eyes look at her as she moves closer to your face, kissing your lips.

You can taste yourself in her mouth as she sloppy kisses you. She holds your waist and guides you off the counter. You're a mess. Makeup is running down your face and your hair is falling from the ponytail it was in. Eille was still completely dressed as she watches you put your clothes back on. She takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on your neck.

"You're such a slut for me" She grins as she places her hand on the door nob. "I don't want to ever see you tasting another girl's lips, got it" You nod in response.

You realized how hot the room was when Ellie opened the door and you felt the coolness of the party on your skin. She takes you by the waist and leads you back into the party. Ellie wore a cocky smile knowing she was the only person at this party who could get you moaning like that. Eyes were on you when people realized who was in the bathroom.

[pathologicalreid]

Spencer x fem!reader fic based on “Work Song” by Hozier?? Whatever storyline or category you want!!

work song | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, near death experience, blood, gunshot wound, hospitals. word count: 1.77k a/n: hozier song request makes my brain go brr. i hope the people of tumblr enjoy this bc i most definitely enjoyed writing it.

boys, when my baby found me

Your hair whipped your face as you spun around through the labyrinth of a warehouse that your team had found themselves in. It seemed like an impossible task, trying to navigate this space, but you had already cleared over half of the space.

A small noise, like a shoe squeaking, caught your attention, causing your ears to rise like an animal hunting for prey. Turning a corner, you had your flashlight and firearm raised, coming face to face with Morgan. The both of you relaxed ever so slightly, no longer ready to pounce.

Ricocheting throughout the warehouse, you heard a deafening gunshot. The sound bounced off of the metal walls of the building, making it almost impossible for you to determine where the sound originated from. Meeting Morgan’s eyes, he nodded his head to the left, signaling for you to go that way while he went right.

You affirmed his tactics, turning slowly and making your way to the left. The rusted building was now so eerily quiet that goosebumps were sprouting across your body, even under your bureau jacket.

Continuing your way down the narrow passageway, you saw movement inside of a room. Sliding your back along the wall, you peeked into the room, seeing two bodies on the ground. You whispered almost imperceptibly into your radio, calling for medical. One of them was the local officer that the BAU had been working the case with.

The other one was Spencer.

You pivoted so that you were entirely in the doorway, facing the UnSub, he raised his gun at you, but you were already pulling the trigger, hitting him square in the forehead. Breathing heavily, you lowered your firearm before scrambling over to Spencer.

I didn’t care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her

In your ear, you could hear Morgan shouting, “Y/N, Reid, sound off, dammit!”

Something needed to happen. You needed to do something, but you had such severe tunnel vision that the only thing you could think about was Spencer.

He was gasping for air on the metal ground of the warehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood. You observed in horror as the red puddle spread with each passing moment.

Launching into action, you tugged your jacket off, stuffing the fabric onto Spencer’s side in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Even Kevlar vests had an Achilles heel, and the UnSub had managed to strike him precisely where there was a gap in the material. All the while, you were muttering the words, “Stay awake.” Just those two words, over and over again, like a prayer.

You hummed, using one hand to apply pressure to his wound and lifting the other so that you could smooth his hair back. His skin was alarmingly clammy, and you knew that, even with your attempts, he was losing too much blood. “Y/N,” he muttered, sounding like he was using all of his strength to say your name.

Gently, you hushed him, “It’s okay, Spence. Don’t talk, you’re gonna be just fine,” you insisted as his blood soaked through the knees of your jeans. You weren’t sure who you were trying to console at that moment.

“It makes sense-“ he said, being cut off by a cough, sending blood spurting out of his mouth. If his lung was collapsing, there was nothing you’d be able to do. You tried to shush him again, but he had more to say – he almost always did. “That I’d see you while I’m dying.”

Choking on tears, you leaned your face onto your shoulder so that you could wipe them away without moving your hands. “I’m here, I’m really here,” you urged, he wasn’t hallucinating, and he wasn’t dying. Not on your watch. “It’s me, Spence. I’m right here,” you told him carefully.

He opened his mouth again to speak, and you wanted to tell him to save his strength. You also didn’t want to deprive him of his words. “You…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the words, “You’ve always been my favorite dream.”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’m not a dream, I’m right here.” You told him, watching carefully as his eyelids grew seemingly heavier, “baby, open your eyes.”

in the low lamplight I was free

His skin was pallid. Even in the dim, orange light of the warehouse, you could see a sickly sheen forming on his skin. His body temperature was dropping, and it was all you could do to not cover his body with yours as you tried to keep him warm. “Spencer, please,” you rasped, urging him to open his eyes.

Your only solace was that his chest was still rising and falling. His breathing was rickety, but he was still breathing, and that had to count for something. “Spencer,” you cried, watching as blood sept through your jacket, flooding between your fingers as you tried to keep him in one piece.

“Love, open your eyes,” you begged, your eyes flooding with tears until everything was just a blur of red.

His heart was beating, you could feel it beneath your hands. A weak, unsteady beat under your trembling hands. “Baby, please, oh my god,” you pleaded, verging toward incoherent babbling.

You were second-guessing if he was still breathing. If his heart was still beating. With that realization, you screamed.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

At first, you were just screaming, letting the vibrations of your vocal cords portray your emotions, and then you screamed for your team. You had never felt more alone, kneeling in a puddle of Spencer’s blood, and no one was coming to help you.

This couldn’t be how it ended. You refused to acknowledge it, even as you felt the life leave his body.

Leaning your head to the side, you spoke into your radio, “I need medical. I’m in the upper west wing of the building. The suspect is dead, I have an officer and an agent down.” Tears continued to stream down your face.

You heard footsteps behind you as people piled into the room, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Spencer. Not when there was a chance that it would be the last time you looked at him while you were both still breathing. “Agent,” someone said, but it didn’t register. They kept repeating themselves until two strong arms wrapped around you, dragging you away from Spencer.

Now sat on the floor, you clocked the paramedics that were now frantically working on Spencer, packing his wound, and cutting off the Kevlar vest.

Breathing heavily, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Rossi approached the local officer, checking his pulse. Emily was hovered over the UnSub, collecting his weapon from his corpse.

You were still being firmly held back, trying to pry the tattooed arms of Derek Morgan off of your torso. “Stop, let me get to him. I need to get to him,” you struggled against his grip, but any attempts at freedom were futile. The medics were saying awful things about a weak and thready pulse and pneumothorax.

Clinging to any semblance of hope that you could find, you listened to them talk about Spencer’s pulse, knowing that a pulse meant he was alive.

Your breathing quickened as you looked up at Morgan, Hotch was hovering behind the two of you, “I should’ve called for medical sooner.” Your voice was miserable, you had sat there with your jacket to his side for far too long. He could’ve gotten help from professionals.

“You radioed almost five minutes ago for medical,” Morgan informed you. “The EMTs just couldn’t find you in this damn maze.”

While you had no recollection of calling for help when you first found Spencer, you also knew that Morgan would get no pleasure out of lying to you.

You heard one of the paramedics say there was no pulse, and you didn’t remember anything that followed.

no grave can hold my body down

Crumpled in a ball, you picked at the crusted blood in your fingernails as you focused on the steady beeping of Spencer’s heart monitor.

According to Emily, who had been there when you woke up in the hospital, you had passed out around the time that the medics lost Spencer’s pulse. The doctor said it was just a result of stress. Thanks to some IV fluids and hydroxyzine, you were able to be discharged.

Spencer had been out of surgery for several hours now. The doctors had been careful to use the term “if he wakes up”, while you had made sure to say “when he wakes up.” You were playing the most horrendous waiting game, and there’s nothing worse than playing a game you have no interest in.

You were now donning a pair of black sweatpants and an old Academy t-shirt. Being the only team member permitted to see Spencer while he was still sleeping – girlfriend privileges, as Morgan phrased it – you waited with only the noises of his monitor to keep you company in the ICU.

Nurses came in and out, trying to manage his pain without the use of narcotics, making sure his blood transfusions were helping, and every once in a while, they’d check on you.

At this point, you had been nursing the same cup of ice water for hours, remembering the last thing Spencer had said to you: You’ve always been my favorite dream.

There was something so peculiar about being with someone who read so much, especially when he said such eloquent things while bleeding to death. You sighed, slumping back in the chair, you looked back at Spencer, only to be surprised that he was looking right back at you.

You jumped slightly in the chair, leaning over so that you could look at him, “Hey,” you whispered, maintaining the reverent tones of the Intensive Care Unit. “How do you feel?”

He’d lie to you and tell you he was fine, but you could tell by the way his heart rate increased that it was a lie. His eyebrows furrowed as he clocked the white patient ID bracelet on your wrist and your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been crying,” he observed.

Despite yourself, you smiled softly, “I thought you were dead.” Your voices were each raspy, yours from screaming and his from being intubated.

Slowly, he unfolded his arm so that his hand was extended to you. Without a second thought, you placed your hand in his. He hummed softly, “And leave you? Never.”

I’ll crawl home to her

[beansprean]

WHAT WE CLUE IN THE SHADOWS: A FINALE CONSPIRACY BOARD

So. WWDITS may have the actual balls to do this to us. and I for one am INCREDIBLY excited for the possibility. If you're a WWDITS fan and haven't seen Clue (1985), I highly recommend taking 95 minutes to do so before the finale. Just in case.

Clue is my favorite movie, I have probably seen it upwards of 100 times for real, and I can recite it from memory with 90% accuracy. I also have the pleasure of owning and playing the WWDITS-themed Clue game, which is centered around finding out who stole the witch's skin hat and where in the house they hid it. I don't know if that will play into the finale at all, but it's something to think about.

The thing about Clue (the film), if you aren't aware, is that there are three different endings. On the vhs/dvd, you see all three in a row between 'that's how it could have happened, but what about this?' title cards. In theaters, there were three versions of the movie (labeled A, B, and C) that were dispersed to different theaters, so depending on where and when you went to see it you would see one of 3 endings. (It's kinda unclear which letter corresponded to which originally, so my labels will be assuming a 1:1 comparison between the order of the home version of Clue and the airing order of the WWDITS episodes.) The Clue endings are not all made equal, and on the home version, the final ending is announced as 'what really happened.'

So allow me to take a moment to talk about how the different endings work in context to each other and the film, and how that could translate to three different endings for WWDITS.

CLUE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT (for real, go watch it)

(last chance to watch Clue go)

Ending#1: "Communism is just a red herring"

In this ending, the first one that plays in the home version, Miss Scarlet is revealed to be the murderer. She is a snarky, sarcastic madam who runs a "hotel and telephone service to provide men with the company of a young lady for a short while" and has policemen on her payroll. This is what I would consider the expected ending, the one that makes sense for most viewers. It's not shocking, but it's funny and well acted and it makes the most sense. Miss Scarlet has the right personality for murder, was in the most convenient area of the house to commit them, and had Yvette (the maid, formerly one of Miss Scarlet's call girls) committing some of the murders at her direction, so she had enough alibis to not make her too obvious. Many people watching this movie for the first time will have her high on their suspect list.

This ending also dismisses the idea of 'dangerous communism' that had been a thread throughout the film (as it is set in 1953 during the second Red Scare) as a misdirection. Miss Scarlet isn't stealing government secrets to betray the US; she's doing it to make money. The real danger all along was capitalism, something that s6 of WWDITS has said repeatedly.

So, to recap, this is the Standard Ending. The Second Best ending. Version B.

Ending #2: "Mrs. Peacock did it all."

This one, played second in the home version, is in my opinion the weakest ending. It reveals Mrs. Peacock, the neurotic, hysterical, and allegedly politically corrupt wife of a senator, as the murderer. She's hilarious and fantastic to watch throughout the whole film and I love her, but this charm drops after the reveal and she becomes cold and drab as she threatens her way to safety. She committed all the murders herself, which would be very difficult to achieve with the tight timing and her position in the basement during the search.

She ends up being caught outside the house by a police inspector, who had earlier shown up disguised as an evangelist telling her to "repent, the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Interestingly, they originally filmed him immediately shooting her dead without provocation, but they thought that was too dark and edited it into an arrest instead (which is why there is such a quick cut after he pulls his gun, and we only hear her rather than see her after that). This is the 'repent for your sins' ending. You do bad things, bad things happen to you.

The obligatory "it's always who you least expect" ending. The Still-Good-But-Not-The-Best Ending. Version C.

Ending #3: "You're Mr. Boddy!"

This is "how it really happened" - the twist ending! The hero was the villain, the villain was just a pawn, and everyone committed a murder in the house to cover their own asses. Prof Plum killed the fake Mr. Boddy, Miss Scarlet killed the cop, Mrs. Peacock killed Mrs. Ho (the cook), Mrs. White killed Yvette, Colonel Mustard killed the motorist, and Wadsworth/Mr. Boddy killed the singing telegram girl.

Mr. Green, who reveals he works for the FBI, kills Wadsworth/Mr. Boddy and arrests the rest of the cast. Understandably the best and most exciting ending (though not without some plot holes) that everyone loves. We get a surprising reveal from two of our main characters that not only changes the context with how you view them, but informs aspects of their character that have been there throughout the film! Now we understand why Wadsworth retained control of the house and the timeline of events, why he was so familiar with the house, and why this entire thing was orchestrated in the first place. We also understand why the cowardly and clumsy Mr. Green was consistently the first to jump to help and defend the other characters, even when it meant putting himself if physical danger. Unfortunately this ending also suggests that he was only pretending to be gay (wouldn't that be a twist for Guillermo lol), but he could also just be in a lavender marriage which is what I choose to believe.

This ending also has the iconic 'flames on the side of my face' scene and repeats 'communism is a red herring', this time in the context of Mr. Boddy's intention to continue blackmailing them all now that they have taken care of anyone who could have pointed the finger at him.

This is the True Ending. The twist you didn't expect but are delighted to find. The 'nothing was as it seemed' endng. The ending that is the most intentional and complete, where everyone gets to shine. Version A.

So what will we be doing in those shadows?

We can assume that e11 will not revolve around finding a murderer, but it does, from what we've seen in the trailer, revolve around making a wife for the monster. Do we get three different wives? Three different actors to play her? Three different superhero identities for Nandor and Guillermo? Three different levels of nandermo: one with a handshake, one with a hug, one with a kiss? Three different explanations for the origin and/or purpose of the documentary? (this is my personal favorite) Or is each ending entirely divorced from the other? Only time will tell.

What I'm leaning toward is that each episode will come up to the same turning point - a decision, a reveal, etc. The first two versions will have reasonable possibilities, the first less surprising but more enjoyable than the second, and the third... The third will be what really happened, and pull a twist no one saw coming. Perhaps even a character will reveal a hidden identity. Maybe, just maybe...we get Simon the Devious.

I only hope the order of the episodes doesn't change between channels or time zones because that will make things very confusing when liveblogging it in the group chat lmao.

[satsugacafe]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐜̧𝐚𝐝𝐞

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: hellooo love ur blog <3 can I request hcs for soul society!aizen with a reader who isnt charmed easily and is a bit skeptical of his façade?

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I was originally going to turn this into a fic (even though you asked for headcanons), but I was running out of creativity juices to keep it flowing :( It just sounded like it would be a great fic.

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: When you don’t fall for Aizen’s two-faced performance during his time in the Gotei 13

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

˚₊‧꒰ა From the moment you joined the Gotei 13, you found yourself on the outskirts of every conversation involving Aizen. His reputation preceded him—calm, composed, effortlessly kind, with a voice that could soothe even the most restless souls. But something about him didn’t sit right with you. It wasn’t that he was rude or ever out of place. Quite the opposite. He was too perfect.

˚₊‧꒰ა You’d seen captains and lieutenants before. They were powerful, commanding presences, many of them hardened by battle and responsibility. Yet Aizen…smiled too easily. It wasn’t that his kindness seemed forced; it was that it never wavered. No one was that consistently unshakeable. People had cracks, moments of frustration, and lapses in their carefully crafted facades. But him? Not once. And that was enough to make you wary.

˚₊‧꒰ა He noticed you watching him. Of course he did. Aizen was a man who missed nothing. But he never confronted it directly. He didn’t need to. He was too skilled at playing the game of subtlety. Instead, he’d catch your eye in meetings, offer a faint smile when your gazes met across the training grounds, and always, always address you with a tone that felt meticulously chosen.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You seem thoughtful,” he said one day, catching you in a quiet corridor after a meeting had ended. His voice was light and conversational, but there was something about the way his gaze lingered on you that made you feel like you were being measured. “Do you often get lost in your thoughts like that?”

˚₊‧꒰ა You weren’t in the habit of being easily charmed by flowery words or gentle tones. You shrugged, not bothering to hide your suspicion. “Only when things don’t add up.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His smile never faltered, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. “And what, may I ask, isn’t adding up for you?”

˚₊‧꒰ა You knew better than to voice your thoughts outright. Aizen wasn’t the type of man you could accuse without solid evidence. He was too clever, too calculated. So instead, you shrugged again. “That would be telling.”

˚₊‧꒰ა It wasn’t the response he was expecting, and for a brief moment, the mask slipped. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his expression sharpening before he smoothed it over again. “Curious,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re not like the others.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His words hung in the air, and you knew he wasn’t talking about your combat skills or your rank within the Gotei 13. He was talking about your mind. About how you weren’t so easily swayed by his charm, how you saw the cracks in his otherwise perfect veneer.

˚₊‧꒰ა After that, he started to take a subtle interest in you. Nothing overt, nothing that would raise suspicion among your peers. But you noticed the way he seemed to gravitate toward you during group discussions, how his gaze would linger on you just a fraction longer than anyone else’s.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Do you not trust me?” he asked one day, his tone light and amused as if the question were a joke. But you could see the weight behind his words. He was testing you.

˚₊‧꒰ა You didn’t smile. “I don’t distrust you. But I also don’t trust anyone blindly.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He laughed. “A wise approach. Trust, after all, is a dangerous thing to give freely.”

˚₊‧꒰ა There were moments when you could feel him trying to draw you in, to make you let your guard down. He’d offer small compliments, casual remarks about your skill or your insight. But you never gave him the reaction he was looking for.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You must think me terribly boring,” he said once, with that same faint smile. “Always so serious, always so composed.”

˚₊‧꒰ა “No,” you replied, meeting his gaze head-on. “I think you’re too composed.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He chuckled at that, but there was no humour in it. “And what would you have me do? Shout? Lose my temper? Would that make me more trustworthy in your eyes?”

˚₊‧꒰ა “It would make you more human,” you said simply.

˚₊‧꒰ა That response seemed to catch him off guard. His smile faltered for the briefest moment before he recovered. “Ah, but aren’t we all striving to rise above our baser instincts? Isn’t that what it means to be a Shinigami?”

˚₊‧꒰ა You didn’t miss the irony in his words. He spoke of control, of discipline, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested something far more dangerous beneath the surface.

˚₊‧꒰ა Over time, your interactions became a dance of sorts. A careful balancing act where neither of you showed your full hand. He’d make a remark, and you’d deflect. He’d offer a compliment; you’d question the intent behind it. It was a game, and you both knew it.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You know,” he said one day, as the two of you stood on the balcony overlooking the Seireitei, “I admire your caution. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t take things at face value.”

˚₊‧꒰ა “Is that so?” you replied, not bothering to hide the scepticism in your voice.

˚₊‧꒰ა He smiled again, that same enigmatic smile that never quite reached his eyes. “Indeed. It’s…refreshing.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite your reservations, you couldn’t deny that Aizen was fascinating. There was something undeniably enigmatic about him, something that drew people in despite themselves. But you refused to be one of those people. You refused to let yourself be lulled into a false sense of security.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Do you ever wonder why people are so quick to trust?” he asked one day, his tone almost philosophical. “Why do they cling to the idea of certainty, even when it’s an illusion?”

˚₊‧꒰ა “Because it’s easier,” you replied. “It’s easier to believe in someone than to question everything they say.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He nodded as if he’d expected that answer. “And you? You prefer the harder path?”

˚₊‧꒰ა “I prefer the truth,” you said firmly.

˚₊‧꒰ა His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, and you could see the gears turning in his mind. He was calculating, always calculating, but you never gave him the satisfaction of knowing what you were thinking.

˚₊‧꒰ა There were moments when you wondered if he found your scepticism amusing, or if it frustrated him. Perhaps it was both. After all, he was used to people falling in line, to people believing in his carefully crafted persona. But you? You saw through the cracks.

˚₊‧꒰ა “It must be exhausting,” he mused one day, “to always be so guarded.”

˚₊‧꒰ა “It must be exhausting,” you countered, “to always wear a mask.”

˚₊‧꒰ა That made him pause, and for the briefest moment, you saw something shift in his expression. But then the mask was back in place, and he offered you another one of his enigmatic smiles. “Touché.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite everything, you couldn’t deny that there was a strange sort of mutual respect between you. He recognised your intelligence, your unwillingness to be swayed. And you recognised the danger lurking beneath his polished exterior.

˚₊‧꒰ა In another life, you might have trusted him. You might have even admired him. But in this life, you knew better. Aizen Sousuke was a man of many layers, and you had no intention of peeling them back only to find yourself ensnared in his web.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You’ll never trust me, will you?” he asked one day, his tone almost wistful.

˚₊‧꒰ა “No,” you said without hesitation. “But I’ll respect you for what you are.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His smile that day was different. Softer, more genuine. But you knew better than to believe it was real. Because with Aizen, nothing ever was.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @edensrose

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[ivybucky]

lightning in a bottle - logan howlett x reader

mutant!reader nearly harms the team in a moment of panic and feels unable to deal with the aftermath, but logan is there to bring you back in more ways than one

a/n: i have so many ideas besties... currently have a list of 5 fic ideas and this is the first one I was able to flush out. here's some angst with happy ending for ya (no smut)

content: angst with happy ending, lots of electricity(literally), mentions of torture and screaming, mentions of mutant experimentation, implications of shitty birth family, confession of feelings, reader crying, sad reader, angry/sad logan

words: 2329

~~~~~

All you could think about was the lightning. 

You remember walking into the room, where the footage of your torture was displaying blatantly across the TV news cycle, the team sitting there and watching with rapt attention. “Mutant Experimentation Footage Leaked” scrolled across the screen. You remember the static tingling in your fingertips as you recognized what you were watching. Your own cries echoed from the speakers as footage of Stryker’s experimentation on you from a month prior when you had been captured is played to the nation. 

“Turn it off,” you had said quietly, pleadingly. The team’s gaze snaps to your silhouette in the door frame. Their eyes held sorrow, and something else that you did not want to see. 

“Y/N-” Storm had started to speak, but you wouldn’t have it. 

“Turn it off, now,” you’d said, clenched fists at your side as the panic began to swell, small flares of electricity flaring around your knuckles. Memories of the torture, the agony, the hatred came rushing back all at one and your eyes couldn’t leave the screen as it continuously replayed it. 

As the feeling heightening, electricity cracked in the air. Your eyes lit up, a bright purple gleam taking over. There was too much silence in the room, the sounds of your screams playing in a loop like a broken record as the news team played the footage over and over. Finally, someone broke it. “Y/N,” Logan had spoken up, an odd, unfamiliar tone in his voice. Good god, was that pity?

“What?” You had snapped, finally looking away from the footage and making eye contact with the team, with Logan, and you understood it wasn’t pity you heard in his voice, but a form of fear. Your anger slowly dissipated as you took in the state of the room - everyone in that room (who wasn’t bald) had hair floating up into the air, falling under the influence of the clouded electricity that filled the ceiling, just as one is before they get struck by lightning. 

And gods above you had almost struck them. 

Your fists fell lax at your sides, realization of the height of your emotions, the loss of control taking over your features. “I-” you stuttered, unsure how to apologize for the pain you nearly inflicted. “I-I’m sorry.”

For a moment, no one moved a muscle, no one said a word. It wasn’t the first time you had lost control, but it was the first time any of them were in danger because of it. Everyone stood like statues, watching you with bated breath, as if you were one nudge away from electrocuting the masses. You turned and fled the room, quickly striding back to your room to inevitably lock yourself in. It was the only place you felt like you could be and not hurt anyone.

Hours had passed since, but you couldn’t shake the look on their faces, the pure fright they showed, caused by you. Decidedly, that wouldn’t happen again - you wouldn’t allow it, in any capacity. Would they always fear you now? Could you manage to stay surrounded by people you loved, but knew there would always be a limit to how far their love for you went? Could you withstand the constant pins and needles your family would walk on around you, again?

It was that thought that had you hurriedly shuffling through your closet to find the duffle bag you had lugged over your shoulder when you were originally picked up by X-Men. It was crumbled into a wrinkled ball on the top shelf, thought to no longer have any use. 

You paced around the room, picking up the things you knew you couldn’t leave without. The students can go through my clothes, you thought with some sort of sad acceptance. Though, that didn’t keep you from packing some of the staples. The school logo printed on a t-shirt, an old sweatshirt that was singed from a fire fight in your first mission with the rest of the team, a stolen old flannel that smelt like smoke and whiskey-

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” You look up almost startled at Logan standing at the door to your bedroom, now cracked wide open. Logan… You’d nearly forgotten about the worst part - leaving him behind.

He leans against the door frame with a confused expression, arms crossed over his chest. You furrow your brows before turning back to the half-full duffle bag that sat on the foot of your bed. You knew you couldn’t look at him when you spoke again. 

“I’m leaving,” you nearly mutter and you stuff more clothes into the bag. You can feel your eyes getting hot, and try to take a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” he asks, his own brows furrowing. “Leaving for a mission?”

Your movements paused. You could tell the truth, but the reality was that he would try to stop you. And even if nothing had come out of the tension that hung between the two of you, you knew you would give in. 

“Yeah,” you swallowed as you lied. “Just a quick one, some intel gathering. I’m leaving sometime tomorrow morning.”

There was a brief pause, like Logan was trying to get a read on how truthful you were being. “Maybe I should come with you,” he says. “For backup, just in case.”

You clench your eyes shut - of course, he thought you needed to be accompanied. “I’ll be fine on my own,” your hands slow their movements as you place the last item in the bag, a gray zip up hoodie Logan had given you once. Were you saying that to reassure him, or yourself? You lied through your teeth like it was painful, as if the act of clenching your jaw so hard would break your bones and your will. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

There was another pause, and you were sure he was going to call your bluff, but he just clicked his tongue. “Well alright,” he said gruffly, almost dejectedly. His hand fiddled with the door frame for a moment hesitantly. “You know that if you need-“

“I know,” you interrupted, turning to give him a tight smile. “I know.” He gave a saddened half smile before nodding and walking away. 

The space he once occupied at the door was empty now, but for a moment you stared at as if he was still there, as if he was still trying to comfort you even when he didn’t know how. 

An errant tear slipped from your eye and trailed down your face for a moment before you snapped back into reality, wiping the tear away quickly with the heel of your hand. You aggressively zipped up the bag and slung it over your shoulder, eager to leave before anyone, mainly Charles, got an idea of your plan. 

With the click of the front door, and the clap of a thunderstorm on the dark horizon, you were gone. 

As Logan left your room, he externally winced at his inability to provide comfort - to you of all fucking people - as if the non-action hurt him. The pain on your face seeped into the air and into his adamantium bones, as if it was transferable through the longing gazes and secretly honeyed words. 

He hung his head and he slowly walked further down the hall, a part of him hoping he would hear your door creak open and hear you call out his name. Instead, he was met with the faint sniffles of a teary nose that only his heightened hearing could pick up, a scuffle of fabric being shoved tightly into the duffle that was then harshly zipped shut with a shuddering sigh.

He turned the corner to retreat to his room before he could hear any more, deciding to join the mission the next morning anyways. 

The following morning, Logan made his way to Charles, unexpecting wanting to make his intentions to follow her known to someone. He entered the room, Charles already staring directly at him with a face one could only describe as similar to an omniscient god.

“Logan,” Charles spoke, somewhat resigned. “She doesn’t have a mission.”

Logan paused in his step with a furrowed brow. “What are you talking about? She said she was leaving this morning.”

“I did not give her one,” he confirms. “I have a feeling-”

Logan cut him off before the professor could continue. His jaw was clenched tight as he spoke the words. “She left.”

A tense silence took over the room, Charles watching Logan with a straight, yet dissecting gaze. Logan broke eye contact and looked away momentarily as he felt his heart sink to his stomach for the first time in decades. 

Finally, he looked back to Charles with a determined glare. “Where is she?”

The side of the professor’s mouth twitches up. 

—-

It only took two days for Logan to reach you. Charles was able to track your location easily as soon as he was asked. It took nothing for Logan to take the bike and peel out of the upstate town. Now, he stood in the rain staring at the shitty side-of-the-road motel with a simmering glare. 

His mind floated despondently in the air above him, completely unattached from his body as it stomped its way up the stairs and down the hall to your room. His fist banged on the door loudly, uncaring of its stability under his metal skeleton. His heightened exhaustion and emotions tethered him enough to not let his head fly too far away from him, but the reality was that he hadn’t slept since you left and the only words he spoke were to himself as he practiced what he would say to get you to return.

But then, the door swung open. His mind snapped back to his body as soon as he saw your face, but the pleas he had planned to beg left him just as quick. 

“You lied to me,” he growled, he accused, standing in the open door, his hands resting up on the door frame. The rain continued to pour just past the motel covering, evidence of its duration linger in the form of wet tracks down his leather jacket, the dampness of his hair, the drops that stuck to his face. 

“Logan-”

“You lied to me, Y/N,” he repeated, a new kind of angry heat simmering in his eyes. “You were not leaving for a mission.”

You take another deep breath. “‘M leaving for good,” you utter softly, your hands trembling slightly at the first out loud admission of what you had planned to do. You circled the back in the room, putting the cheap mattress in between you as some sort of barrier. The duffle bag he saw you packing days ago sat mockingly between you both. 

“Come on, what the fuck? ‘Leaving for good’?” He asks incredulously, taking a step forward and letting his arms drop to his sides. “You were going to leave the mansion, just like that?”

You stare at the duffle’s opening, having only reached that motel hours ago, not long enough to unpack the only remaining items you had. “I can’t stay, Logan,” you say softly, not moving to look at him. “No matter how careful I am, no matter how hard I try, I can’t control it, I can’t control me. Even Charles doesn’t know what to do with me, I-I had to leave, it’ll be better for everyone.”

“No,” he says defiantly, moving cautiously closer around the side of the bed. “Not everyone.”

The tears welled in your eyes at his words, unable to stop them from falling and you crossed your arms in front of you protectively, the tear-stained cuffs of the hoodie, his hoodie, pushed up your forearms. “Why are you here, Logan?”

“Why am I- are you stupid?” He scoffed, causing you to flinch at his harshness. “I’m here to bring you back. You’re not leaving the school, you’re not leaving me alone-”

“You don’t want me,” you cried, with tears streaming down your face as you shake your head. He can feel his heart break at the side of your distress. “None of you do. I nearly struck all of you the other day, just because I got emotional. I almost hurt you, and that’s the last thing you need, Logan.”

Logan quickly moves closer to stand in front of you and cups your cheeks, bringing your wet eyes to his. “Don’t you get it,” he says with a strained, rough voice. His thumbs sweep gently under your eyes to brush away the tears. “You are the only thing I need. Fuck everything and everyone else.”

Your hands come up to hold onto his wrist, keeping his hands exactly where they are on your face. “Logan-” you stutter as you search his eyes almost hopefully. “What are you saying?”

There’s a brief silence in between your soft sniffles and the sound of the rain on the other side of the motel door. When Logan speaks again, it is deliberate, and it’s what he wanted to say all along. “I’m saying I am nothing without you, sweetheart,” he urges, his thumb pulling your bottom lip from your teeth. “I was nothing before you, and I know that if you leave now, I’ll be nothing all over again. Not a single person in that school wants you to leave, me especially.”

You squeeze your eyes shut in time with the hopeful clenching of your heart, forcing tears out as you do so. You rest your forehead against Logan’s as he continues. “Please,” he nearly whispers, his nose bumping against yours. “Come home with me and turn nothing into something again.”

You nodded against him and spoke a wet “okay” before pressing your lips, finally, against his. And, just as you had predicted you would several nights ago, you gave in. 

_____

a/n: quickly posting this bc if i keep staring at it i'll never post it pls tell me how i did :D logan smut comin soon, pls like, comment, reblog

[crows4luna]

571 words. mature, suggestive. heavy sexual tension. unedited. pop star!reader. reader is not mc. reader has a blood evol and actually has a backbone so they see through caleb's bullshit. reader is afab. reunion-ish with colonel caleb. caleb is horny for reader and fantasizes about them. is this toxic? it might be. | i was originally going to write this scene in compliance for my oc story but i saw it more as a universally open concept. thus, here we are. if anyone was curious on how i interpret a blood manipulation evol, it's a combination of katara from atla as well as marie and victoria from the boys/gen v. 𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀now playing: sports car - tate mcrae

A curt tilt of his head, and his eyes flick down then back up at you. The hardened glance softens just the slightest, looking at you with the slightest undercurrent of fondness. He speaks, as he lowers his cap, setting it aside on the table behind him, “You did great out there.”

You scoff, swiveling around in your chair before the vanity, crossing one leg over the other. It’s him, in the flesh, but Caleb was a stranger in every way possible. Sure, you grieved him at one point, but there were other things that heeded your attention. Problems that arose because greedy scientists and investors continued to get too bold.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the colonel continues to shower you in praise.

Your senses are sharp, despite your calm demeanor. You learned a lot from the N109 Zone, from dealing with seedier investors in the Nest before that.

His praise is genuine, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flutter up and down over your form. A dazzling silver two-piece outfit hugs your body, modest in its coverage but short enough to tease with the skin that’s bared. (And, of course, being able to dance in it.) Up to your knees were patent white boots, giving you a little more height when you stood.

Of course you were stunning.

“It’s very thoughtful of the Fleet to host a music festival of all things for Skyhaven’s people,” you shrug, lips curling into a soft smile. “I’m honored to have been invited as the headliner.”

It’s Caleb’s turn to display his amusement, chuckling briefly in a lowered tone, “I just thought about giving you a more reasonable excuse to come here.”

That one pinches a little.

You grimace, knowing that he sees through you. Knowing that being here is a more dire situation than being a dancing monkey as a temporary distraction. But even if that was the case, you could feel the unique pulse of his blood as he watched you from the shadows. The way you were a natural, captivating performer on that stage like it was home—it had him under your spell.

Caleb had to admit to himself, shamelessly, the way you made him feel has not wavered at all. Seeing you like that tonight reassured him of everything—and he knew he wouldn’t be able to go to bed tonight without fucking into his fist at the thought of you.

“Watch yourself, colonel. I—”

“I think it’s you who needs to be cautious,” he drawls, stepping towards you. He bends to the knee, violet eyes raking over the expanse of your thighs, your exposed abdomen. How badly he wants you—needs you—right now is unbearable. He’s getting hard again.

But those sinful thoughts disappear, when he realizes your own bold demeanor mirrors his own. You’re not tense at all, nor does he sense anything amiss in your form.

You’re unable to tear your gaze away from his.

A slight vibration thrums in the thickened air between you both. Caleb’s ears ring just the slightest, though he doesn’t falter or twitch.

Until he feels a thick trickle from his nostrils. The tips of his leather-gloved fingers press against the blood, and it doesn’t take long for him to figure you out. Between the minimal, dark red on his fingers and your unwavered focus, Caleb only smirks.

He’s going to enjoy this game between you two.

[slut4celebs]

Like Real People Do

Billie Eilish x Australian!Reader

Word Count: 1,524

Trigger Warnings: teeth rotting fluff. billie being scared to get in a relationship with reader?

Request / Synopsis: "billie x fem!reader fic where they meet because finneas produces readers first album? And reader grew up somewhere outside of the USA near the sea and nature and is like completely out of tune with the whole typical Hollywood character? And Billie is just happy to talk to a normal person for once" In which Billie falls for someone who isn't like every other fame hungry Hollywood wannabe.

Los Angeles was full of people, but only about five percent of the population were authentic, real people. She didn't understand how out of all those people, she was able to be introduced to (Y/n), one of the five percenters. She was kind, confident, and out of tune with the Hollywood-esque nature of the people who lived there. She wasn't fighting for the fame she deserved with her singing voice, instead, she showed up and wrote and sang. Her voice was outstanding and natural, and when she first heard it, she was genuinely shocked and amazed. "She's great," she had remarked to her brother, who was working to produce her music.

Finneas smiled, spinning his chair to look at Billie. "I'm telling you, she's going to be the next big thing. She's so natural in there, She's not like everyone else I've met out here. You're going to love her." He promised as he gave the girl a thumbs up as she finished singing. "She's from Australia, I found her on TikTok. She has only like sixteen followers, but I saw so much potential in her." He pulled up her account for her to look through. Billie did, seeing various videos of her singing original songs and covers, going on nature hikes, and Bondi Beach.

She didn't know how much she believed Finneas until she got to know (Y/n) while she and Finneas were working on the album. "I think you'd like it out there." She hummed, sitting on a rock. (Y/n) had convinced Billie to go on a morning hike with her, and the two of them were looking out at the view in front of them, a beautiful sunset shown behind the hills around them. "It's more peaceful. Unless you're in the city. I do… go to the city often, Bondi Beach is one of the prettiest beaches." (Y/n) rambled about her home, chin resting on the knee that she had pulled up to her chest.

That was the moment that Billie realized she was falling for her. When they talked, it was seldom ever about Hollywood, albums, celebrity parties, or Instagram followers. It was about genuine things like nature, a cool bug she saw on her hike, or the deer she saw on her evening runs. Billie appreciated seeing this side of humanity. (Y/n) gave her hope in people. Most people wanted to befriend Billie because of who she was. (Y/n) just liked to be around her. At first, Billie had been apprehensive when (Y/n) wanted to hang out. That was until (Y/n) suggested her apartment. Secluded, no one needed to see them. No paparazzi to get their pictures. (Y/n) just wanted to be around her.

Billie sighed when she realized she was falling for (Y/n) to the fullest as she sat by Finneas. They were almost finished with the album, and then (Y/n) would be headed back home until its release. Billie felt sad about this, but she was nervous to tell (Y/n). However, Finneas could see how this was affecting his sister as she watched (Y/n) with the hint of a small but sad smile on her lips. "You should tell her." He had said, looking up to (Y/n) as she sang. It was a song about heartbreak, of all things. It was absolutely squeezing Billie's heart as she stared up at her.

Blinking at her brother's words, she glanced over to Finneas. "I can't do that. She doesn't like me that way." She argued, returning her gaze to (Y/n). The air was still for a moment as they made eye contact with (Y/n) when she finished singing. Finneas clicked on the microphone, telling (Y/n) she was doing amazing, and asked if she'd like to sing their next song. (Y/n) agreed, giving two thumbs up. Finneas set up the instrumentals for the song they wrote, telling (Y/n) to start when she was ready.

Once the microphone was off, Finneas watched (Y/n) for a long moment before turning to Billie. "So what? She's going back home this Friday. If she doesn't like you, you two can still be friends. You know how easygoing she is. This could be your last chance though. This album does have a chance for not picking up." Finneas said, turning his full attention back to (Y/n). He wanted to give Billie a chance to think about what he had just said. He knew that she needed space and time, that she couldn't just be forced into understanding that this really could be her last chance.

Once (Y/n) finished, Billie stood up giving her two thumbs up. "That was really good. I have to head out, but I couldn't just couldn't help myself from listening to you sing. Bye, Finneas." She waved to (Y/n) and her brother softly. She just needed to give herself a second to think about what Finneas had said to her.

Of course, Billie knew what her feelings for (Y/n) were. She just didn't know if (Y/n) felt the same way. She was typically a very confident person, but with (Y/n), she found herself confused. She didn't want to mess this up. She wanted to be with (Y/n) but she didn't know if this could ever work. After all, once Friday hit, they were going to be in two separate time zones. (Y/n) was going to be nineteen hours ahead of Billie. However, if she could convince (Y/n) to stay, maybe help hype the album so it gets picked up. She knew that (Y/n) wouldn't go for that though. After all, she made it clear that if she was going to make it, she wanted to do it on her own.

"I thought you'd be here," (Y/n) found Billie where they first hiked together, a bit away from LA. Her accent sounded like a song to Billie. She closed her eyes for a moment to soak it in before she turned to (Y/n) with a smile on her face. "Hiking is the best way to clear one's mind, huh? Plus, you can't help but just… take in that view. It's beautiful here." She stated, taking a breath. Despite the air being thicker than where she would usually hike Los Angeles was just more populated. "So. what did bring you out here exactly, Billie?"

Billie patted the spot next to her and (Y/n) sat beside her. She took the girl across from her in before taking her hand. "I'm hoping this doesn't mess up our friendship, but… I like you. I just needed to tell you that before you left. I don't want you to leave. I know that this place isn't your home. I wish I could help make it a home for you though. You are one of the most natural, calm, and caring people I know. You're authentic, and I have grown to love that so much over the couple of months you've been here. I'm not ready to lose that." She admitted with a gentle smile. She was glad that she listened to Finneas, the feeling of telling her lifting from her chest.

(Y/n) had smiled at her words. "I feel the same, Billie. That's why… I extended my stay at my apartment and signed the lease. I even found a way to transfer my job here just in case the album didn't take off like your brother and I hope. I have been wanting to tell you this for a while, but I didn't know how." She said softly. She took in a breath before continuing. "I really like you, Billie. You're fun, kind, and so compassionate." She said softly, squeezing Billie's hand. Her smile widened when she saw Billie leaning in and allowed for them to connect their lips. When they pulled away, it felt like all of the stars had aligned for them.

"So, you extended your stay..?" Billie leaned away slightly but moved to gently cup (Y/n)'s cheeks as she talked. "I'm glad because it would be a tragedy of epic proportions if I couldn't kiss you every single day." She stated with a playful look in her icy, grey-blue eyes. (Y/n) let out a soft chuckle, nodding a bit at her words. "As for the album… It's going to take off. You're amazing. You deserve all the love."

"Thank you, Billie." (Y/n) said softly, kissing Billie again. "I can't help but agree though. It would be an absolute tragedy if I couldn't do that every day." She said softly, as the two turned, watching as the sun began to set. "We should head back down while there is still some daylight." She held out a hand, to which Billie took it and allowed her to lead them down to the car. (Y/n) let go of Billie's hand, just in case of the paparazzi being around them, but Billie quickly took hold of it again because she didn't care. She only cared about being with (Y/n).

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hey >:) Just a thought I had while reading the child creator AU.

What if the child was actually on of the archons? like, would you imagine it being Zhongli or Venti? They be like:

Zhongli: I demand to know who the father is! *looking threadedly while holding his spear, ready to pounce at someone* Creator: *sweating and thought* It's you bu. *The other Archons arguing as to which mortal it was that laid their hands on their creator*

Creator: *looks at them, then looking at Venti* *Venti, catching the creators gaze, winked and took his tonged out, fully knowing he was the father but keeping quite. He wasn't that dumb.*

Anyway that's enough of me, bye!

Archon's son

WC : 1k, venti: 591 zhongli:594

(somehow they ended somewhat close! I thought zhongli would be longer by a fair bit)

Cw:

venti- nahida can see the baby kicking inside the belly (I heard some people feel it's like body horror so just in case)

Zhongli -reader passed out because of low iron, pica/eating rocks

I will admit that this is mostly centered around the idea that they do know that it's theirs or it's likely to but at the beginning there is something along the line of that, anyway, wouldn't it be fun if venti's child could change some features, one day he looks like you and the next he is his dad's clone

“Why is everyone so silent?” Venti fills his glass with some wine, the atmosphere thick enough to cut. You were hosting dinner in your serenitea pot, something informal and a thinly veiled excuse to strengthen links between nations, and somehow the papers written by your physician were next to the door long enough for both zhongli and the tsaritsa to read.

“Their situation implies that they shared bed with a mortal” the tsaritsa crosses her arms above her chest, the way her lips curved and the roll of her eyes show her distaste for the situation.

“If their grace wanted to be accompanied by a man shouldn't that be their choice?” Venti says out loud while feigning innocence “who are we even to judge that?”

“Surprisingly enough Barbatos does have a point, to react like this is to some extent patronizing” Nahida nods along.

“tsk!”

“They seem pleased enough with the current situation so I find no reason to meddle” Raiden speaks for the first time since being seated. As much as the tsaritsa would have liked to snap back at her, you appear from the hallway oblivious to their fight so she chooses to bite her tongue and hope you bring it up later.

“Aren't they fidgety…” Nahida mumbles softly as you pat her hair, the soft white hair mixing with her green streaks. Her head is resting on your lap as you drink tea, bright green eyes focused on the prodding against your skin, some kicks and punches from the inside.

“Mhm, I can feel it in my ribs”

“just one month more, your grace!”

“Never thought a child could be so similar to only one of their parents” Raiden watches the baby from his crib, a small wood cot that Candace sent as a gift from Aaru village.

“Well, to a certain extent I expected that” venti WAS originally a formless air spirit mimicking his friend's form, at first you didn't even think he would be able to reproduce, but here we are and hubris is your biggest sin.

“♪~~♪~” spirit form venti sneaked inside the nursery by the slightly cracked space between the window and the window frame, barely smaller than your pinky finger but just enough for him to slip inside.

A good thing of simply being a bard in his nation was the freedom he enjoys, he is known for his songs and how good they are so it isn't strange when you have him around your house or in your serenitea pot, the pretext that you enjoy music under the shadow of your garden and that your little clone gets lulled to sleep quickly by his soft tunes. Even then it would be strange for him to be around so often so sometimes he just settles for mixing between his son's plushies and watching him play around for a while, after all it isn't like he has anything better to do.

“!!” Swiftly he gets caught by his son's hand and thrown up and down like a doll. This wasn't as smart as he thought.

“Hello, baby” Venti babytalks the the 1 year old seated on the floor playing with stacking blocks when he sees him he smiles. As much as Venti loved the image he couldn't help but be slightly scared as when he opened his eyes they were now his exact same colour.

“Oh, sh-” next blink his eyes were your color, the sane he was born with “how about we make this our little secret we never talk about ever again?”

“Their condition isn't as dire as you are making it seem it's just-” Zhongli tries to calm down Raiden, who visited Liyue under the pretext of cultural exchange.

“It isn't dire? They almost passed out during a leisurely stroll”

“At most they might have gotten low blood pressure”

Baizhu lets your arm go to hush them a bit “they aren't sick, just pregnant and not eating enough iron. May I continue the check-up or do you wish to wait outside?”

“as I insisted, Raiden, their grace isn't ill, they are just pregnant, which falls under no criteria of sickness”

“I meant to tell this to everyone next month but I guess Raiden gets to be the second to know!”

“For one to be impertinent enough to dare bed their grace” Raiden snarls under her teacup, a frown on her lips.

“I must guess their couple must be Ill mannered and uncivil” the tsaritsa follows her idea, the rest of the archon were asked to visit Liyue sooner than arranged to receive an important and very unexpected news, even if they didn't wish to show you directly their discontent between them it was fair enough.

“Don't you seem too calm, Morax?”

“Not at all, I'm burning with hatred” he crosses his legs but makes the point of hitting his knee against the table “I'm so angry I can't even control my moves”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“i will be prescribing you with a herbal tea to ease the birth process, when you come out Qiqi should have them neatly portioned in the daily brew” Baizhu turns around to give Qiqi the list of flowers and roots and how much of each to put in little silk satchel. As he turns around to follow the examination he sees you close to the flowerpot on the desk and your cheek lightly swollen. A deep sigh leaves hus disappointed face, simply pointing to the pot “please, spit” and you do so, a rock falling back to the dirt. Even then Baizhu still looks disappointed.

“Didn't you tell me to eat more iron?”

“Not from dirt, my grace…”

“Then is iron ore fair game?”

“No… just simply no”

“He is a chunky baby” furina prods at your son's chubby cheek, before the time of delivery the doctors told you to expect twins but unexpectedly enough he was just a big baby around 4kg or 8.8lbs and he keeps growing as times goes.

“As heavy as a bag of stones!”

Lei headbutts your leg, his small hands scratching his scalp “please don't tell me you got lice, I told you to be careful” you settle your cup down on the table as you excuse yourself with cloud retainer, who visited to give you advice at childrearing.

“But I wasn't close to anyone with lice” quickly, your hands start segmenting his scalp looking for lice or eggs but there was nothing behind his ears or on his nape, but when you go higher towards his forehead you find two protrusions that made Lei push your hand away when touched.

“Ah? That does remind me back when Morax ripped his horn off during a fight, tte skin closed and we were so worried it wouldn't grown back, luckily a few months after a new one punctured the skin, even if he was so cranky like a child that season”

“And here I thought because he wasn't born with them he wouldn't get them”

“To suppress such minimal features shouldn't be too much work, even if this one thinks the child would prefer not to”

[authortelevision]

“Why did that kinda… do something to me?” ₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,586 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆ arthur at the club, submissive arthur frederick

you meet arthur in the club filming a video and he’s dared to go up to you. after you’re rude to him he realises he might actually be kind of into it

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The club was packed, the kind of night where the air was thick with sweat, and the bass felt like it was thudding directly inside my chest. It had been a long week, and I wasn’t in the mood to play nice. My friends had convinced me to come out, but all I wanted was to finish my drink and go home. I didn’t want to make small talk. I didn’t want to deal with more strangers.

So, naturally, that’s exactly what happened.

I noticed him from across the room before he even reached me — Arthur TV. I wasn’t a huge fan, but his face popped up enough in my YouTube feed for me to recognize him. He was walking toward me, camera in hand, his friends trailing behind him like they were all in on some kind of joke. His friends were filming him, and I could already tell this wasn’t going to be fun.

He approached with that easy confidence some guys get when they know people are watching.

“Hey,” he said, standing a little too close. “Mind if I—”

“Yeah, I mind,” I cut him off before he could even finish his sentence, turning to face him with an icy stare. “Whatever you’re doing, I’m not interested.”

He paused, clearly taken aback. “Uh, okay, but I wasn’t—”

I cut him off again. “Let me guess. You’re doing some stupid YouTube challenge where your friends dare you to talk to a random girl? That’s original.”

Arthur’s mouth twitched, like he was trying to decide whether to laugh or back off. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, when you put it like that—”

“No, that’s exactly what it is,” I snapped. “I’m not here to be part of your little video, alright? So go back to your friends and find someone else.”

I could see the wheels turning in his head. He looked over his shoulder at his friends, who were watching from a distance, laughing and pointing at us. Clearly, they thought this was hilarious.

Arthur sighed, and when he turned back to me, he didn’t look so smug anymore. “Look, I get it. This is probably the last thing you want right now, but honestly, it wasn’t supposed to be a prank or anything. They dared me, yeah, but I’m not trying to make fun of you.”

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. “So, what, am I supposed to be flattered?”

He shook his head, clearly trying to keep things light. “No, I’m just saying… maybe don’t hate me right off the bat. I didn’t come over here to be annoying.”

“Well, you failed,” I shot back, glaring at him. “You could’ve picked literally anyone else to bother tonight, but you chose me. So congrats.”

Arthur blinked, clearly unsure how to respond to that. “I mean, you looked interesting.”

“Right, because nothing’s more interesting than a girl standing by herself trying to avoid idiots like you,” I said. “Really groundbreaking stuff.”

He smiled a little, like he wasn’t completely put off by my attitude, which was irritating. “Okay, fair enough. I probably deserve that.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my drink, hoping he’d get the hint and leave, but he lingered.

“Seriously, I didn’t mean to annoy you,” he said, more quietly this time. “If you want, I’ll walk away. But if you ever get tired of shutting people down, maybe we could just… talk?”

That caught me off guard. I half-expected him to make a joke or brush off my attitude, but he seemed… genuine. Annoyingly so. I glanced over at him, still skeptical. “Talk? About what, exactly? What’s left to say after you’ve made a complete fool of yourself?”

Arthur chuckled, and I could see him relax just a little. “I’m pretty good at making a fool of myself. It’s basically my job. But I don’t mind it so much when someone calls me out. Keeps me honest.”

“Right,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “So this is you being ‘honest,’ is it?”

He shrugged. “As honest as I get when I’ve just been verbally destroyed by someone I’ve known for less than a minute.”

I couldn’t help it — a tiny smirk crept onto my face. “Well, at least you’re self-aware.”

He smiled, and it was annoyingly charming, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “Look, I get that you’re trying to turn this into a moment, but seriously, I’m not in the mood to be part of your content. YouTubers are all the same.”

Arthur nodded, backing off slightly. “Yeah, I get that. I do. You’re not wrong. Most of the time, we are the worst.”

“You said it, not me.”

He laughed then, a real laugh, and for some reason, it wasn’t as irritating as it should have been. He took a step back, holding up his hands in defeat. “Alright, message received. I’ll leave you alone before I push my luck any further. But just for the record,” he said, glancing back toward his camera with a grin, “I think I survived that better than expected.”

“Barely,” I muttered.

With that, he gave a small wave and turned to leave. I watched as he walked back to his friends, who were practically doubled over with laughter. They high-fived him as he rejoined the group, and then, of course, I heard him say it — loud enough for me to catch, like it was meant to be overheard.

“Why did that kinda… do something to me?”

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. Of course, he was into it. Of course, the one guy who wasn’t completely put off by my attitude was the one with a camera pointed in my direction.

Still, there was something oddly satisfying about how he took it all in stride. Most guys would’ve slunk away by now.

As I finished my drink, I felt a weird tug of guilt. I had been harsher than necessary. Maybe I’d been projecting all my frustration from the week onto him. He was just trying to have fun. And, to be fair, he wasn’t the worst guy who’d approached me in here tonight. Far from it.

I sighed, setting my glass down and straightening up. My friends were on the dance floor, too busy to notice me. Without thinking much about it, I turned and made my way toward Arthur and his group.

When I got close, they noticed me, and I could see Arthur glance up. Fuck, those eyes.

“Hey,” I said, feeling slightly awkward now that I had to actually confront him without the defensiveness. “Uh, I just wanted to apologize for being… kind of a bitch back there.”

Arthur blinked, clearly not expecting that. His friends were snickering, but he waved them off. “You don’t need to apologize. You were just being real, and honestly, it’s kind of refreshing.”

I raised an eyebrow, still feeling a little uncertain. “Well, real or not, I didn’t need to be that rude. You were just doing your thing.”

His lips quirked into that easy grin again. “Hey, no harm done. I’m used to worse.”

I smirked at that. “Really? People usually rip into you like that?”

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. “Not like that. That was special.”

I found myself smiling despite myself. “Well, at least I made an impression.”

“Definitely,” he said, and for a moment, the tension between us shifted into something a little less hostile, a little more… intimate?

I paused, feeling like an idiot but pushing forward anyway. “And honestly… I have to admit, you’re kind of hot.”

His eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised, but that grin never faltered. “Didn’t expect that after the way you tore into me. I thought you hated me.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks flush a little. “Don’t get too full of yourself. It doesn’t mean I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Can’t say I’m not flattered, though.”

“Well, I did feel kind of bad for ripping you apart for no reason. So, since I probably ruined your night, how about I make it up to you by asking for your number?”

His eyes lit up, clearly surprised but amused. “You’re asking for my number?”

I gave him a look. “Don’t make this weird.”

He laughed, shaking his head, and pulled out his phone. “Alright, alright. I’m not going to argue with you.”

I grabbed his phone, typing my number in quickly before handing it back. “There. No more dares, no more cameras.”

“No promises on the cameras,” he teased. “But I’ll text you.”

I shook my head, smiling a little before turning to leave. “You’d better.”

As I walked away, I could hear his friends cracking up behind me, and part of me wondered if I’d just made his night.

I’d definitely made mine a little more interesting.

_________

It was late, almost too late to be messaging someone, but I didn’t care. The night had left me restless, and as I settled into bed, my phone buzzed beside me. Arthur’s name popped up on the screen, and my stomach did a little flip.

Arthur: “You still up?”

I hesitated for a moment, smirking to myself as I typed back.

You: “Yeah. Why? You miss me already?”

I could almost hear him laugh through the screen as his reply came.

Arthur: “Yeah, actually. Been thinking about you since the club.”

I raised an eyebrow. I hadn’t expected him to be so forward, but I didn’t mind it.

You: “Really? What’s so interesting about a girl who told you to back off?”

There was a pause, like he was considering his words carefully. Then the reply came.

Arthur: “Honestly? Everything. You got to me, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

I felt a flicker of satisfaction, my curiosity piqued now. I leaned into the conversation, pushing him to see just how far he’d go.

You: “Got to you how? I barely said two words to you.”

Arthur: “Exactly. It wasn’t what you said; it was how you said it. The way you looked at me like I was wasting your time like I didn’t even matter to you. It’s stuck with me all night.”

My breath hitched slightly as I read his response, surprised by how direct he was. He wasn’t playing it cool — he was laying it all out, and something about that vulnerability made my heart race a little.

You: “So you liked that I didn’t care about you? That’s what did it for you?”

His reply came faster this time, like he was waiting for the chance to explain himself.

Arthur: “Yeah. It was the confidence. I don’t know why, but it’s driving me crazy. No one’s ever looked at me like that before.”

I chuckled softly, enjoying the way the conversation was shifting, the honesty in his words.

You: “So what, you’re telling me you liked that I didn’t give a shit?”

Arthur: “More than I want to admit. It messed with my head. I kept thinking when I was back with my friends, ‘Why doesn’t she care? Why isn’t she even a little interested?’ And it made me want to prove myself to you even more.”

I could feel the tension building between us, even through the screen. His words were pulling me in, and I could sense how much he’d been affected by that brief interaction.

You: “Most guys would’ve walked away. Why didn’t you?”

Arthur: “Because you weren’t like anyone else. I could tell you weren’t just playing hard to get — you really weren’t interested, and that made me want to know why. I wanted to make you see me differently.”

I bit my lip, feeling a thrill run through me at how invested he was. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d gotten under his skin, but now that I knew, I wanted to see how far I could push it.

You: “And now you can’t stop thinking about it? About me?”

Arthur: “It’s more than that. I can’t stop thinking about how you didn’t flinch when I tried to talk to you. You didn’t even care that I was there, and it got to me in a way I didn’t expect. Like… it made me feel small, and for some reason, that made me want you more.”

The intensity in his words sent a shiver down my spine. Most guys wouldn’t admit something like that, but Arthur was being raw, almost desperate in his honesty.

You: “You liked that I made you feel small?”

Arthur: “I’m not used to it. Usually, people recognize me or try to impress me, but you didn’t care at all. You just looked at me like I was… nothing.”

My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I processed what he was saying. He wasn’t just playing a game — I had actually affected him, gotten under his skin in a way that left him reeling. I felt a rush of power at the thought.

You: “So you’re telling me you want me because I didn’t want you?”

Arthur: “Exactly. The way you rejected me, the way you didn’t care… it’s like you’ve taken over my head. I can’t stop thinking about how cold you were, how much I wanted to change your mind.”

You: “And now?”

There was a pause, the little typing bubble appearing as he considered his answer. Then:

Arthur: “Now, I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want to make you care. It’s like you’ve got this hold on me, and I don’t know how to shake it. The more distant you were, the more desperate I felt. And now I’m just stuck on it. Stuck on you.”

My breath stopped for a moment at the weight of his confession. He wasn’t just flirting anymore — he was telling me how much control I had over him, how much I’d gotten to him without even trying.

You: “So what, you want me to keep treating you like that? Like you’re not even worth my time?”

Arthur: “Yes. God, yes. I want more of that. I want more of you.”

I let his words sink in. He was being so raw, so desperate for more, and I couldn’t help but lean into it, feeling a strange thrill at how much he wanted me to treat him like that again.

You: “You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Arthur: “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s like I’m addicted to the way you didn’t give me anything. It’s driving me insane.”

You: “So if I told you to stop texting me right now, you’d just keep wanting me more?”

Arthur: “Yes. I think if you ignored me for weeks, I’d still be sitting here, waiting for you to look at me like you did earlier.”

I could feel the power shift completely now, his words practically begging for more, more of the way I’d made him feel at the club. It was intoxicating, knowing how deeply I’d affected him, how much he craved something most guys would run from.

You: “Good. Because I’m not done making you feel like that yet.”

Arthur: “Please. Don’t stop. I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”

My heart raced at the desperation in his words, the raw need pouring through the screen. He wasn’t holding anything back, and it was clear now — I had him exactly where I wanted him.