#so the only time we can message rn is when he goes across the road to wetherspoons and uses their wifi

[hairtusk]

thought having the afternoon off work would be nice, but actually it's just left me alone with my thoughts for hours and feeling obscenely lonely

[olivinesea]

Space Is Only Noise If You Can See

a/n: I don’t know why I’m doing this. Maybe it’s because I handle change & uncertainty extremely poorly and that is all my life is rn. Maybe I just need to find out the extent of my evil powers. Regardless, you’re about to experience something unpleasant. TW major character death, suicide mentions, guns, violence, you name it, it’s happening. Only positive is I actually outlined the whole thing first this time so I know where we’re going (it’s not good). ~2.8k

Mr. Scratch surrendered. Or did he? Discuss.

It was always the smell that got to him. The sickly sweet scent of decaying flowers. He wondered who had made the decision to flood all funerals with the same noxious lilies. Didn’t that smell make anyone else feel ill? It lingered in the back of his throat, fogging his vision. He scowled at the offending arrangements—ostentatious wreathes shaped like hearts with hollow messages in a stock cursive font. He had been to so many funerals at this point he was reluctant to admit he sometimes got confused about where he was, who he was mourning. He tried to focus on the portrait of the deceased, but the outline kept shifting.

He blinked hard to settle his contacts, tears always had a detrimental effect on their usefulness. He needed to remember to wear his glasses to the next funeral. A twisted laugh threatened to slip, gallows humor at its finest. No matter how hard he tried, there would always be a next funeral. He wondered how many more before it was his turn, before he no longer had to be the one staying strong for everyone else, pretending the smell didn’t make him choke. He looked again, determined to figure out when he was before he was required to do anything, before he let on that he wasn’t fully present.

The coffin, shiny and black, occupied center stage. Where he thought he’d seen people solemnly walking up the aisle to say goodbye, there was only empty space. He realized he was unnervingly alone. Yet the coffin was not, it was flanked on either side by identical shapes, the light reflecting from their polished surfaces dazzling his vision. He stumbled to his feet, gripping tightly to the smooth wood of the pew in front of him. He rubbed his fingers against it, distracted by the grain, worn down by decades of touch. He looked again and there were six coffins, the once open space crowded and bent to accommodate so much loss.

He swayed, confused, it must be the damn flowers. The whole room seemed to tilt and he fell into the aisle, landing hard on his knees. He looked up just in time to see the coffins, doubled, tripled in size, rolling toward him, shuddering as they picked up speed.

Hotch gasped as he woke up on the jet, gripping the armrest tightly as he scanned the area around him. No one noticed the slight disruption, he knew well how to stay still, how to disappear in response to distress. Everyone was dozing or lost in their thoughts, drained from long days on the road. He counted their heads to check that everyone was accounted for. They were coming back from another case, he wasn’t quite sure from where. His hands shook from holding the seat too tightly so he put them in his lap, absently running his thumb across his other fingers.

He pulled out his phone to check the time and, more importantly, to check the date. He’d been struggling ever since the Scratch case to keep the details of time in order. It was embarrassing and he did his best to hide these lapses in awareness. The disorientation was always worse after one of these dreams. Though he was too practiced to show he was having nightmares, this one was starting to get to him. It had been coming back again and again since that night when he watched his team die. One right after the other, unable to stop it, unable to even be sure it wasn’t himself pulling the trigger. Though they were safe, were still alive at least, he couldn’t shake the fear. It had been so real. And it had been his fault.

He tried to tell himself to let it go, that it was only a hallucination brought on by a chemical attack from a psychopath. A man who was now in prison, successfully captured by his very alive teammates while he sat uselessly on the floor, afraid to trust his senses. However, he couldn’t quite escape the nagging fear that Scratch didn’t surrender, that in the mess of it all he had gotten away. When he let himself think about it, it never made sense that a man so calculated, so many moves ahead of them, would simply give in. He couldn’t be sure that the surrender wasn’t one of the false memories.

There was no way to distinguish between them, the real and the nightmare. He could only convince himself that his team was alive by watching carefully as they breathed whenever they weren’t looking. By their heated bickering over who would ride where. Lately he had even relinquished the driver’s seat, worried that his loosely tethered mind might sweep them all off the road. He fixated on their little habits, certain that these were things his mind couldn’t make up, proof that his family was really there in front of him. The orange fingerprints on case files and every single coffee mug disappeared from the kitchenette, lost wherever Reid set them down before forgetting, caught up in some exciting train of thought. Things that might have frustrated him before became lifelines to reality, the reality he hoped with all his heart was true.

In the immediate days after the attack, he would ask Dave, quietly, for assurance that Peter Lewis was locked up, unable to harm his team. Dave was understanding, remembering how he had been that night, eyes full of loss. But the looks he gave Hotch grew longer and more worried with each repetition of the question. Now, again unsure, he was too ashamed to ask.

It had been so hard to keep things straight in his mind. For awhile he had been writing himself notes: “Peter Lewis is in prison.” Except he would find them again later, letters added, message changed, unable to tell if it was still his handwriting. It didn’t make sense for it to be someone else, fuck he kept these notes in his pockets, in his desk drawer, in his medicine cabinet. He couldn’t remember changing them though. Maybe that was what he had written in the first place. The confusion of the notes started making him feel worse so he stopped writing them. Every time he found another one, he tore it into tiny pieces, all the while trying to convince himself nothing was wrong with his behavior, nothing was wrong with his mind.

*

On Saturday, rare in its lack of crisis, Hotch was sitting on the couch, finally free to read a book while waiting for Jack to get home. He had been invited to a movie with some school friends. He started thinking about how relieved he was that Jack had friends to do normal things with and lost track of the story. As he scanned back, a little surprised how far he’d read without absorbing any information, his phone rang. His lungs constricted. Fear was always the first reaction to the phone ringing. He leaned forward to pick it up from the coffee table, brushing away his irrational feelings. It was Spencer. That was a little odd but not unheard of. Sometimes Spencer learned a new fact that only Hotch would appreciate and couldn’t wait until they got back to the office to share it. He smiled as he answered, anticipating an excited rush of speech. Instead there was silence.

“Hello?”

Nothing. He listened hard, not sure if he could hear breathing. There was some rustling, muffled and indistinct. Maybe Spencer dialed him by accident. He hung up and tried calling back. It rang without answer. He tried one more time but got the same result, the voicemail picking up quicker the second time. He told himself there was a mundane explanation but anxiety crawled like a spider up his neck. He was about to make another call, was trying to decide who was most likely to be helpful. Penelope? Derek? But then Jack walked in the door, hyped on candy and popcorn and wanting to repeat every joke from the movie. He let it go, if it was important Spencer would call back.

*

Monday morning and Spencer wasn’t in the office. Hotch had been there since 6 am, buried in paperwork, perpetually stuck in a state of catching up. He didn’t notice the absence until JJ came to ask him if he had any update from Spencer.

“Hmm? No, I haven’t heard from him. Update on what exactly?”

“Oh well he was supposed to come over for game night on Saturday but he said he wasn’t feeling well.” She assumed he was still sick, that he had called out. It was very unlike him to skip out on work, though perhaps he was just very unwell. Images of Spencer, pale and shaky, in the depths of his addiction, flashed through both of their memories and they exchanged looks. It had been so many years, and he did such a good job of pretending it never even happened, but they still remembered. It always came back whenever some uncertainty with Reid popped up.

“Have you tried calling him?” He tried to be logical, not everything needed to be the end of the world.

“Just goes to voicemail.” She raised her eyebrows at him, the silent question—what do we do boss?

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at the files covering his desk, he’d already put in several hours today, he could use a break.

“I’ll go check on him.”

She started to offer to go with him but he waved her off. If Reid was sick there was no reason for both of them to be exposed. If it was something else, well, it was probably better if Hotch was alone for that too. Just as he got to the elevator, Derek caught up with him.

“I hear you’re going to check on pretty boy,” he was trying to sound light-hearted.

Hotch made a noise in response.

“I’m coming with you.”

Hotch looked over at him and saw the steel behind the statement. He wasn’t asking. Neither one needed to say aloud the worry laying just beneath the surface. That dreaded what if that swam around in the back of all their minds. He gestured for Morgan to get in the elevator ahead of him.

*

They got to Spencer’s apartment with still no word from him. He didn’t answer when they knocked on the door and though neither wanted to admit it, they were starting to panic.

“He better be passed out on cough syrup,” Morgan muttered as he flipped through his keys to find Reid’s spare, still trying to mask his fear. When they got the door open the apartment was cold and empty. The blinds were closed and the room was dark. Once they flipped the lights on everything seemed normal though unoccupied. The apartment was relatively neat, stacks of books and papers operating as some kind of decor.

“Reid?” they called even though they could tell he wasn’t there. They wandered through the small apartment, checking for signs of their friend.

“Hotch!”

Hotch caught the edge of the door with his shoulder and swore as he hurried out of the bedroom to respond to Morgan’s distressed call. He was standing in the small kitchen, looking at the counter. On it were Reid’s keys, phone and wallet. They could have been tossed there upon his arrival. But wouldn’t he have taken them if he had gone somewhere?

“Where is he?” Morgan’s voice was tight.

Hotch shook his head, this didn’t make sense. He picked up the phone and saw the list of missed calls from the office, from JJ, from him. He unlocked it and checked, heart sinking as his fear was confirmed. The last call was to his own phone on Saturday evening.

“Call Garcia,” he said, checking Reid’s messages.

“What’s going on Hotch?” Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off Reid’s phone, the frantic way Hotch was scrolling through it.

He stopped and looked up. “I…I don’t know.” The images from his dream, his nightmare were threatening to envelop him. Reid crumpled on the ground, a gunshot still ringing, dark wood with rounded edges cradling his lifeless body. The phone screen blurred when he looked at it again and he dropped it on the counter, using his hands to hold himself up.

“Hey man, are you ok?” Derek started to move closer but Hotch turned away, effectively closing himself off.

“Call Garcia, we need to start a search.” And I need to get a grip, he thought as the world around him shifted disturbingly. If something was as wrong as it seemed, they would all be looking to him to solve it. He certainly couldn’t do that if he wasn’t even sure if he was clinging to the counter or the floor.

*

It was hours later when they finally got a lead. It was not the lead that they wanted. There was a report of a body matching his description at a morgue one town over. It had been pulled out of the river in the early hours on Sunday, spotted by a couple of unhappy fishermen. There had been no wallet, no ID, no way to figure out who he belonged to. They had put him down as a John Doe, a presumed suicide and he was being held until they could get around to trying to match dental records. Garcia teared up as she relayed the information to the rest of the team.

“That can’t be him! Are you sure?” Morgan spoke more harshly than he meant to, nerves frayed by hours of fending off worst case scenarios.

Garcia hesitated, holding a folder. “They sent pictures but…I can’t look. I’m sorry.” She started crying in earnest now.

“Oh baby girl,” Morgan put a hand gently on her shoulder and pulled the file away. He was reluctant to open it as well. Hotch saw this and quickly took the folder and walked to the other side of the table where he flipped it open. His mouth formed a grim line and he didn’t have to say anything for them to know. He was glad he took it, happy to spare them the sight of waxy pale skin, the only color a deep purple beneath his closed eyes and his startlingly blue lips. It looked like he was wearing make up, like this was just another Halloween look Spencer was testing out. Hotch stared at the picture a moment too long. This is real, he told himself.

“Aaron?” Dave tried to pull his attention back to the room of anxious agents. Even though they knew, there was still the tortured hope that if he didn’t say it out loud, it wasn’t true.

He sighed, “It’s Spencer.”

Garcia let out a sob and turned into the hug that Morgan wrapped around her. JJ, sitting at the table stared into the distance.

He tried to organize the facts, solidify them in his mind by repeating them silently to himself. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he normally suppressed to avoid having it sticking out wildly.

“I’ll go formally identify the…” He couldn’t call Spencer a body. “I’ll go see when we can get him transferred to us.”

“I can come with you,” Dave offered but Hotch declined. Looking at the others he felt like they needed someone to stay with them that would ward off anything too impulsive. They were all stunned at the moment but the feeling in the room was unsettled.

“You’re wrong.” JJ spoke without looking at him, her gaze still fixed at a spot on the far end of the table. “Spence wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.”

He realized she was crying and felt a weight start to crush his chest. With effort he moved to where she sat, unable to find anything to say. He touched her hand but she jerked away, suddenly standing and glaring at him.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated before leaving quickly.

There was a hand at his elbow, squeezing gently. “I’ll go talk to her in a little bit. You should get going, it’s already late.”

He tried not to pull away too quickly as he nodded his thanks at Dave, who looked at him curiously.

“Are you sure you don’t want someone to come with you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I can do it.” He hoped Dave would ignore the shake in his voice. He was fine, he could do this, he didn’t have a choice. He walked to his office to get his things, stopping for a moment to pull out Reid’s phone again. He needed to check the calls one more time, to confirm what he thought he remembered. Sure enough, his number remained the last outgoing call. He didn’t know if it was better or worse that it was real.

~Part 2~

[retro-rezz-the-est]

Brat Tamer (Roman Reigns/Reader smut)

Summary: The reader’s not a wrestler, but she’s being intentionally bratty bc Ro doesn’t come back home to her. Ro decides to take things in his own hands when she takes her brattiness and her teasing too far.

Word Count: 6,510

Warnings: voyeurism, a small tiny large ass bit of possession/possessive behavior, Roman being an absolute beast who I want to wreck me into oblivion, mutual masturbation and I believe that’s it??? Forgive me if I’m wrong.

(A/N: This was supposed to be for reaching 600 followers, but I’m re-purposing it so it’s now @writing-reigns’s birthday gift! To my lovely talented amazing fantastic beautiful sassy big sister: thank you. You’re an absolute delight to be close to and I hope you know how much I love you. Happy birthday, darling!)

(A/N #2: Bracket texts are Roman’s btw lol)

You never did like it when he was away for so long.

In fact, you hated it.

You knew this was a part of his job: the leaving for long periods of time, the sparse days that he spent with you when he was home with you, the repeated sadness of seeing him leave. But, you knew that he loved you and you loved him, so you supported him anyway.

It would always be months before you saw him again, all smiling and warm with him in your arms. Video calls and late night chats on the phone weren’t enough for you. You needed him here and at home with you.

You longed for his touch, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin at night when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him. But now, his side of the bed was empty, and his babygirl would curl herself around his pillows to imitate the feeling of him against her.

You missed the way his hair would flop forward into his face and his constant struggle with trying to push it away, you laughing every single time because it was just too damn cute. Just thinking about all the little things he did just brought a smile to your face.

But, you also missed the more…sensual parts of your relationship.

He would always do things to you that none of your previous lovers ever did, and just thinking of them sent excited shivers down your spine. You missed the way his hands felt on your skin, pulling at your hair and tugging at your nipples as he too you with wild abandon and left you satisfied for hours.

You missed the feeling of his mouth on yours and his body pressed against you as he made love to you and made you cum more times than you could ever count on one hand. You missed the way he'd wrap a hand around your throat and hold you down on the bed as he pounded you from behind, banging the headboard against your bedroom wall as he called you his good slut over and over again.

He always had a way of making you feel like the most pampered princess in the world and the most dirty, naughty brat to ever exist and that was just perfect. You missed the sting of the marks from his hands on your ass whenever you misbehaved; doing it to yourself just never felt right at all.

You pined for his hands groping your slick breasts as he took you against the wall in your shower right after he got home from a long day at the gym, and you craved the feeling of him burying his tongue in your pussy whenever he woke up early on weekends.

All in all, you just…fuck, you needed him.

Which is why it hurt so much when he rang you up that night right as you were about to leave.

“Wait, what?! What do you mean you can’t come home yet?!”

“I mean, I can’t come home because I’m still on the road, babygirl,” Roman told you again, him sounding frustrated over the phone. You could hear the rumble of the bus he was on in the background, and the sound of the other Superstars chatting away right after.

“Ro, I’ve been planning this dinner for weeks! You said we’d go out when you got back, and that was supposed to be today!”

He was supposed to come home that Saturday afternoon, with his princess welcoming him at the door as he finally got back from the European leg of the company’s tour. It would’ve been your birthday the day he shou;d’ve been back and when you told him, he had promised to take you out for a nice dinner and left it to you to plan out the details.

You both were supposed to have fun, celebrate him coming back from the latest leg of the tour and you surviving another year on this planet, and come back to your apartment to reconnect after months of being away from each other.

It was supposed to be perfect.

But it wasn’t and he wasn’t here, and you were left without your man, fully dressed in the skin tight red sleeveless number he always loved, hair and makeup done with your heels on only to be left alone at your door.

“You can’t just cancel on tonight because of your stupid fucking job!”

You kicked off your heels and stormed into the living room, throwing your purse on the kitchen counter and stomping over to the couch. You glared out into nothing, hoping that he could feel the weight of your stare through the phone. “I literally got all dressed up for you to just ghost on me!”

“You watch your tone with me, babygirl,” Roman warned, venom seething from his mouth. “I’m sorry that I can’t just hop off this fucking bus, grab my bags and stow away on a plane for you and get there in five minutes! You said you supported me going away when we started dating, so support me.”

You’re full-on yelling at this point, red in the face and close to tearing his eyes out when he actually gets back. “How can I support you if you do shit like this to me?! You fucking promised-”

“Stop!” he shouted, shutting you up immediately. He never used his dom voice outside of the bedroom before and frankly, it scared you but you weren’t going to let down your front that easily. “Don’t fucking tell me what I promised, babygirl. I said I was sorry and Daddy will make it up to you when he gets back, as long as you stop being a fucking brat about all of this.”

“What-me? Being a fucking brat?! Excuse me, Roman, but I am completely justified in-”

“Babygirl, look,” he sighed, the deepness in his voice fading slowly. “I swear to you that I’ll make this up to you, okay?”

You could feel tears pricking your eyes. Whether they were out of pure anger or sadness, you couldn’t tell. “B-But Daddy-”

“No buts, princess. I’ll see you when I get home. We’re about to reach the hotel, and I’m really fucking tired. This conversation is over.”

And with that, he hung up, the dial tone beeping in your ear before you turnt your phone off.

You managed to call the restaurant and cancel your reservation, take off your dress and your makeup and remove your jewelry without throwing your phone across the hall or punching a hole through your bedroom door. Slipping on one of Ro’s old merch tees, you climbed into bed and sniffled, crushing his pillow against your chest and sighing angrily. You contemplated between tearing your hair out before you went to bed that night or just screaming into the pillow. So, you chose the latter.

“How dare he?!” you yelled. “Fucking hypocrite saying that he doesn’t break his promises, and yet goes and breaks one himself! And he called me a brat for being angry? The audacity!”

All he had to do was give you a warning beforehand, a message or anything but nothing! Nothing from him because he put so much attention on his fucking work that he never even thought about you at all!

You flopped onto your back and kicked the blankets away, grumbling and staring into the dark void that was your ceiling for what seemed like hours until an idea popped into your head. You grinned deviously as you began to weave the idea into a full-fledged plan and you rubbed your hands together maniacally.

If he wants a brat, fine. I’ll give him a brat. Let’s see how much good that does him in the long run.

Game on, Daddy, you thought as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, a grin slowly making its way across your lips.

                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was in the hotel gym with a few of the other Smackdown Superstars when you had texted him that morning. Setting down the weights he was lifting, he paused his music and wiped the sweat from his brow. Just seeing your name light up his phone made him smile a little, even if he did insight the argument the two of you had a few days ago.

Y/n (Daddy’s Babygirl)

morning Daddy 😚😚

                                                             [Gmorning princess. How've you been?]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

just missing u, that's all 🥺

                               [You know I'll be home in a few days. We've been over this]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

i know, but i can't help it. i miss having u here to take care of me 😢💙. ur babygirl's pussy is so wet rn & she needs her Daddy to come take care of her 🥺

   [I'll take care of you and all your needs when I get back, just how you like it ;)]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

you better, or i may have to do it all by myself 😏😏😏

Roman looked down at his phone with wide eyes, sensing that you had something up your sleeve.

                                                              [Babygirl, what are you planning to do?]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

nothinggggg 👀😏

                                                                             [Don't lie to me now, princess]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

okay fine, you're no fun >:P. i'm rubbing my clit thru my panties rn. they're

the ones u got for me for my birthday, and they're *soooo* soaked rn 💦💦

i'm all wet and aching and needy bc i miss u, Daddy 🥺

He could feel his eyes getting darker by the second and quickly got up, saying his goodbyes to everyone in the gym before grabbing his gym bag and speed walking through the door. He made his way to the elevator and felt his phone vibrate again, cursing to himself as the doors opened and he leaned against the back wall.

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

fuuck Daddy it feels so good but it doesn't feel the same

i miss your big fingers, Daddy. mine are too small and yours make me

feel the best 😻

                                        [Princess, did I tell you that you could touch yourself?]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

...no???

                          [Take your fingers away, princess. I didn’t give you permission]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

...no

                                                                                             [What did you say?]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

i said no 😈😊

fuck, my pussy is so wet for you, Ro. i’m sliding my fingers thru my folds and they’re so wet for you 😩

i have to text with one hand bc lefty’s busy with my slick hole rn

                                                        [You better stop teasing me like this or else]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

or else what? you’ll punish me? i already have two fingers in me, about to be three

She’s really testing me today, isn’t she? Roman thought as the elevator doors dinged and opened on his floor. He quickly walked to his room, placing the keycard in the door and swinging it open. Throwing his gym bag somewhere near his suitcase, he walked outside onto the balcony and swiped a hand over his face, imagining you in one of his merch tees with your legs spread and your folds wet and swollen for him.

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

i can’t hit my spot like you do, Daddy. you always finger-fuck me so good

fuck, i feel like i’m gonna cum already from this 😩💦

                                                                                              [Babygirl, I said no]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

too late, Daddy. i’m pushing in my third finger ;3

it feels so damn good Daddy. i can’t wait until you get back anymore

His eyes got dark and clouded over with lust as he felt his cock grow in his gym shorts. Fuck, what is she doing to me?

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

i’m rubbing my clit with my thumb now. dragging my nail across it too

i’m picturing it as your teeth bc you love to use them when you go down on me 🥺

                                              [I said to fucking stop already. Listen to me, (Y/n)]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

Hmmmm….how about…no 😋

i’m about to cum Ro. gonna squirt all over my fingers for you 💦

Is she really going to…? No, she wouldn’t disobey me like that, would she?

                               [(Y/n), you better not or else you’ll regret it when I get back]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

shit, i’m cumming Daddy fuuuuck

His mind is immediately bombarded with the vision of you soaking your bed, your juices flowing from you and staining your sheets. He heads back inside, closing the balcony door before throwing his phone on the bed and sitting down himself.

                                                                 [You done having your fun, princess?]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

mmhm ^^

i came so hard for you, Ro. you wanna see?

He gets a picture right after, opening it to see your inner thighs glistening with your juices, your hand forming a peace sign as your digits are coated with your cum. Growling deeply, he closes his texts and moves to call you, the phone seeming to ring endlessly in his hand before going straight to voicemail.

“Hello person calling my phone, you’ve unfortunately reached the phone of (Y/n). Someone must’ve pranked you or something, because this is obviously the wrong number. But, if you meant to call this number, I’m clearly busy with something important so if you need me, leave a messa-”

Roman hung up quickly, throwing the device next to him and sighing, flopping onto the sheets and staring at the ceiling defeatedly. The concentrated throbbing of the hard-on in his gym shorts made him angry. You were testing him, teasing him, and he was buying into it big time. The phone buzzed next to him suddenly, making him grab at it and lean his head up.

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

gotta go, Daddy. i’m gonna go take a nap. byeeee 😚💗

                                                                     [You’re really gonna do this to me?]

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

yep ^^. Talk to you soon 😘

                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For almost a full week now, he’s had to deal with the torture you put him through, showing up to press talks and photoshoots and working out non-stop with a constant hard-on from the things you’ve been sending him. For a full week, the sexts became an almost daily thing as you recounted all of the things you were doing to yourself behind his back: touching yourself constantly in the bed you shared, grinding against his pillows and taking selfies with only his shirts on, sending him pictures of you in your newest dresses.

The “home movies” you sent him were equally as troubling, showing him exactly how well off you were without him there to take care of you and please you by teasing him with the various vibrators and dildos that you had in your chest.

You even had the nerve to call him during a meeting with Stephanie and tell him that you were wearing the vibrating panties he bought you last year for your birthday while you were out with friends, causing him to shoot up in his chair and try to hide his erection.

And for a full week, he’s been pent up with sexual energy, counting down the days and waiting for when he can finally come home to you and punish you for what you’ve been doing to him.

But, they’ve also been dragging on for what seemed like an eternity. So when he pulled up to the arena that Friday night, Roman was more than a little pissed off. You tagged him in a selfie you took on Instagram of you in a fitted black and turquoise lace bodysuit with a black lace collar, posting that you “had a surprise waiting for a special when they finally gets back to you”.

He felt a hot streak of possessiveness run clean through his system when he shut off his phone, and his fingers twitched with the need to let everyone know that you were his as he read through the comments. But he persisted, gripping the steering wheel of his rental tightly before getting out with a plan in mind. Grabbing his bag from the trunk, he pushed the doors open and walked inside with a grimace on his face as he tried to maneuver around the various stage crew and other wrestlers that littered the hallways. 

Roman was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t seem to acknowledge bumping into one Mustafa Ali and walking straight through the man. He fell back with a yell, rubbing his shoulder as the Samoan continued on his way with his suitcase rolling behind him.

Rising to his feet, Mustafa brushed himself off before chasing after the other man, cupping his hands over his mouth to yell over the countless voices around him. “Hey, Roman! Hold up, man!”

Oh fuck, he groaned internally as Ali pulled up beside him, a smile on his face as he tried to match Roman’s pace. “So, how you been, buddy? It’s been a minute since we last talked, huh?”

Roman grunted, brows furrowed as he ignored him. His phone buzzed in his pocket again - most likely another message from you - and his mind immediately went back to you, thinking about how delicious you looked in that bodysuit.

She’s gonna fuckin’ get it when I get to the locker room, he thought, his hold on the bag’s handle tightening as Mustafa continued to try and speak with him.

“Ok, not much of a talker today. That’s fine. I just wanted to discuss our strategy for our match tonight. You know, for our tag match against Ziggler and Corbin? I was thinking that maybe you come out first and give ‘em the verbal one-two hit before I come out since they don’t know I’m your partner yet, but we could change that if-”

“It’s fine the way it is,” Roman replied, moving some stray hairs from his face before making a left towards the locker room and finding the one with his name on it. Before opening the door, he turned around to see the smaller man looking back at him holding his thumbs up and smiling.

He entered the locker room and shut the door, his mood somewhat lightening as he rolled his bag into the corner. Shoving his hand into his jeans pocket, he pulled out his phone and opened the newest message from you.

Y/n (Daddy's Babygirl)

(photo attached)

bought another one for you, Ro 💜💜

Roman walked over to the bench and sat down, taking his hair out of the messy bun he put it in earlier with his free hand and sighing as he felt the crotch of his jeans grow tight. There you  were, spread out on the couch on your back wearing a lavender keyhole lace teddy with one of your legs bent towards the camera. You were smiling back into it and biting your lip, which made him groan and tug his hair a little as he ran his hand through it.

                                            [You’re really milking this teasing thing, aren’t you?]

Y/n (Daddy’s Babygirl)

Why yes I am. This is why you don’t lie to me, Daddy

                                                         [Oh, you’re gonna fucking get it later, (Y/n)]

Y/n (Daddy’s Babygirl)

Can’t wait for it ^3^

He smirked deviously when he read that, loving how coy and innocent you sounded but knowing how wet you became just from him sending that. He did secretly love this game you were playing with him, riling him up with texts and pictures and videos, but as your Daddy he had to put you in your place. You had to know who was really in charge.

Standing and shoving his phone back into his pocket, he walked back to the door to unlocked it, only to hear the sound of someone suddenly knocking on the other side. He opened it to find a stagehand standing in front of him with a clipboard.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Reigns?” she started, tapping her fingers nervously on the board, “I know this is kinda sudden and we only have, like, an hour and a half until the show starts, but the big man and some of the other guys upstairs switched around some of the matches on the card for tonight’s show.”

“And? What does that have to do with me?”

“Your tag match was one of the ones moved and, well….it was moved to the beginning of the night. Like, right after Baron’s segment. So, you’ve got to start getting geared up since some of the people in the film crew wanna start shooting some of your pre-show promos in a bit.”

She then turned on her heel and scampered away, reaching in her back pocket for a pen and clicking it to scribble something down.

He sighed, closing the door as he looked up at the clock on the wall and noticed that he only had a few minutes before someone else came knocking. Roman walked over to his suitcase and turned it over on its side to open it as he sighed.

Guess I’ll deal with you later, babygirl.

                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crowd was roaring in his ears and he was loving all that energy, soaking it up like a sponge as he knew you were tuning in to watch him fight. He loved knowing that you could see the Big Dog in his natural habitat, watching him kick the crap out of anyone he was put in front of and feeling the apex of your thighs tingle from how turned on you were becoming.

Adrenaline pulsed through his veins throughout the entirety of the match, from when he slapped the taste out of Corbin’s mouth before Mustafa made his presence known to when he finally pinned Ziggler after hitting him with a third Spear during the nearly 15 minute long tag match.

Seeing “King” Corbin pull his new lackey from the ring and scamper to the back while holding him by his arms brought a quick smile to his face as he yelled “You can’t handle all this!” and the ref raised their arms in victory.

“I’ll see you around, okay? You were awesome out there!”

“You too, Ali,” Roman said smiling, panting slightly as the duo made their way through the curtain. Promising to check in on him some time later on, the two pounded fists and shared a brief hug before Ali began limping to the back with one of the medical personnel in tow, leaving Roman by himself.

“Now,” he told himself, smile dropping and eyes narrowing as he tore his way through the halls to get to his locker room, “time to take care of business.”

He immediately locked the door when he got inside, ripping his tactical vest off and throwing it into one of the open lockers before going over to his bag and unplugging his phone from the wall next to it.

His chest was shiny with sweat underneath the fluorescents, so he grabbed a towel that one of the stagehands left on the bench inside to wipe himself down. Drying off his hair with one hand, he used the other to unlock his phone and video call you, with you instantly picking up after only two rings.

“Hi, baby! You were so great out there during your match tonight! That was probably one of your best this ye-”

Your voice died down when you saw the look he was giving you: eyes holding yours in a steely gaze, neck vein starting to pop out a bit and a clear glint of mischief running across his entire face, but he disguised it all with a smirk. It sent shivers down your spine to know that secretly, you were the one to do this to him, to get him like this.

“How’s Daddy’s favorite little tease doing?”

“A tease? Me?” you feigned shock, mouth dropping open as you placed your hand on your chest. “Why would I ever have the gall to tease you in any way? I’m a good girl, remember?”

Roman’s face deadpanned and you had to stifle a giggle from bursting. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me, (Y/n). You’re not slick, and your Daddy isn’t a dumbass.”

His eyes flowed down to your chest, and how you were starting to angle the phone to show him more of what you were wearing. He chuckled at your latest attempt to get him riled up but unluckily for you, he was filled to the brim with pent-up energy and was all too ready to take it out on you.

You pursed your lips and blew a kiss to him as you crossed your legs on the bed. What seemed like miles of red mesh ran up your legs to your upper thighs and was held up by a frilly garter belt, leading his eyes up your body as the other two pieces of the red lace lingerie set hid all of your goods from his heated gaze.

“You like it? I bought this little number a while back and I was gonna send you a pic of it as a congratulations gift but since you called me, I figured now was as good of a time as any! So, what do you think?”

He could feel the crotch of his ring pants grow tight as you giggled again and stuck your tongue out, dropping the towel next to him as he ran his hand over the newly formed bulge. “I think,” he started, moving towards the bench and sitting down, “that it’d look much better on the bedroom floor. Speaking of which, take it off.”

“Huh?”

“The bra. As much as I love how it frames your perfect breasts, I want it off. Now.”

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you placed your own phone on your bedside table and angled it against the lamp that stood there before reluctantly reaching around and unsnapping the lacy piece, sighing as the room’s cool air made your nipples perk up. You tossed the discarded garment in the direction of your closet, smiling faintly and awaiting further instruction.

“Now, since you wanted to tease me for over a week with those fucking texts, those videos, those tags on Instagram, now I’m gonna do the same damn thing to you. And this time, you’re gonna fucking take it.”

Oh shit was the only thought that ran through your head as you gulped and felt your fingers twitch.

“So, what I want you to do is take out that cute little toy chest you have under your bed-”

“How do you know about that?!”

“-and take out the dildo you got molded for me. You know the one I’m talkin’ about, right?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you muttered under your breath as you stood up, wondering how in the fuck he found out about it and turning around to bend over suggestively and give your man a show. You could hear the jingling of his belt clasp and heard him suck in a breath, smirking to yourself as you pulled out the black box from underneath your bed frame.

For Roman, he loved the view that he was given, loving how the lace and the garter belt framed your ass as you reached into the box to pull out the silicone toy and show it to him. It was shaped and colored to look exactly like his own cock but before he could say anything, you climbed back onto the bed and sat cross-legged with it in your lap. He could see a slight flush dusting your cheeks and he laughed darkly.

You could see him fully now, his arm with his phone in his hand partially outstretched while his other hand held his half-hard cock as he coaxed himself to full hardness. Looking down at the dildo resting on your legs, a shudder went through your body. Although your new toy will never compare to the original, you’re gonna make damn sure that your money is well spent.

He watched as you let out a shaky breath, moving to lay down on our back at the head of the bed and picking up the dildo. You raised it to your lips and suctioned your lips around the head, getting it nice and wet for him before trailing it down your neck and circling it around your breasts and nipples until they were shiny with your spit.

With wide eyes, you looked back into the camera and asked, “What do you want me to do now, Daddy?”

“Cut the innocent crap, babygirl,” he sneered, making you moan softly. “Trail that thing down your stomach and run it over those pretty panties you bought.”

You answer him with a “Yes, Daddy” before doing as he told you, dragging the dildo down over your stomach and circling your belly button with it before running the head over your pelvis and throwing your head back with a moan.

It felt good running it over your skin like that, almost as good as if Roman was actually there with you and teasing you himself, but you’d never say that to him outright. Raising your hips to meet it, you slid the toy’s shaft in-between your legs and ran it over the thin strip of fabric that kept it away from your lower lips. You could already feel how wet you were becoming, seeing as after a few seconds of this that the dildo was faintly glistening with your juices when you held it up.

“Babygirl, don’t you fucking stop until I tell you to,” he growled over the line, making you jump out of your own little fantasy world. He was angling his phone downwards towards his hard-on, showing you how he’s already leaking cum onto his fingers as he touched himself at your expense. “Keep rubbing that dildo over that wet little pussy of mine.”

You spent the next few minutes running the toy over yourself, grinding it against your clit and moaning but taking it away when you got too close to cumming as to prolong what you had going on. The arch in your back became more prominent as time went on and as sweat began to bead on your own temple, making every moan made and every breath you took much heavier.

He finally told you to stop, seeing how he could spot your juices staining your inner thighs from where your phone stood on the bedside table. “Pull those soaked panties to the side, (Y/n), and fuck yourself with that toy for me. I want you to be fucking dripping and soak that thing so badly that I can see your cum from my end.”

You can audibly hear him stroking his cock now, his pre-cum making it easier for him to pump and twist his thickness. A smile broke out onto your fae but by the look in his eyes, you knew it wouldn’t last as you pulled the red panties to the side with your free hand and rubbed the head of the toy between your lips before sliding it into you slowly.

A heady groan rang out from within you and your eyes snapped open as you began to fuck yourself with it, pressing the silicone balls against your clit to drive you to climax quicker. Moving back into your own little world, you could feel it moving against your inner walls and running against every spot that made you tick.

You threw your head forward with a moan, both of you watching how perfectly all of it fit within you in one go and how quickly you started thrusting it. You raised your hips to meet it with every pass, sighing whenever it filled you to the brim.

You were so lost within this space, your mind so cloudy with arousal, that you almost didn’t hear him call your name.

“Slower, babygirl. I don’t want you cumming yet. You’re not the only one who wants to drag this out.”

So from that point on, he directed your pace and your every movement, telling you to go slower or faster and leaving you hanging on a damn thread every time. Roman laughed heartily when you huffed and puffed out your cheeks, calling you adorable despite being a teasing brat.

“I’m only giving you what you asked for, so don’t blame me for any of this.”

He made you grind down on it every time the dildo went balls deep, making you cry out when he made you take it out right after and pass the sticky head over your clit. You were balancing on nearly nothing at that point, a heavy sheen of sweat now covering your body and seeping into the mesh tights you were wearing until he finally tossed you a bone.

“Now ride it. Ride that fucking toy like you will once I step through your goddamn door. Ride that dildo until you’re screaming my name and letting everyone on your block know who fucking owns you.”

He says this with a snarl, tightening his grip around his shaft and stroking himself quicker as you rose to your knees and moved a pillows between your thighs to suction the dildo onto it. You sunk down on it immediately, your juices making it much easier for you to slide it in and your walls hugging it closely. You grabbed another pillow and moaned loudly into it as you started bouncing, bits of your hair flying around your face and lightning running through your veins.

Your hands started to move in opposite directions; one drifted towards your breast to pluck and pull at your nipple, and the other fell to your pelvis as you began rubbing at your clit with your fingers. Looking at Roman through the phone didn’t do you any better at all, him showing you how hard and thick and ready he was for you.

His chest and forehead were covered in a thin layer of sweat as he stroked himself to a climax throwing his head back with a moan and tugging at his long hair. You could see thick streaks of white fly from the head and splatter his chest and stomach, making you moan as he lowered his head and looked straight back at you. His eyes were cloudy and lost but still dominant and utterly him which made you close your own eyes to keep yourself from reaching that peak.

But despite that, you could still feel it building up in your abdomen as the dildo hit all of your deepest spots and made you cry out to the heavens. Words could no longer spill from your mouth when you felt that twinge of arousal run directly through you and drive you closer and closer to that edge you were seeking. He was finally going to let you cum after what seemed like hours and hours of teasing…

...which is why it shocked you so much when Roman told you to end it.

“Stop.”

“....wait, what?”

“Babygirl, I said stop. Take the dildo out now.”

Even through your daze, you could hear him clearly. His eyes were nearly black, clouded fully with lust as he gripped the phone with one hand and held his softening cock with the other. Isn’t this what he said he wanted? You were so close, why should you stop now?

So you kept at it, grinding the toy down harder as you moved closer to the phone so he could see. You arched your back and pretended not to hear him, lost in your own little world of pleasure and dipping your hand back to your hard bud to rub at it furiously.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna-”

“(Y/n), I said to fucking stop.”

And stop you did, ceasing all movements and quickly taking your hand away from your clit. The tone he used surprised you as he never really used his dom voice outside of the bedroom, so you knew he was fucking serious.

You moved to grab the phone from its place on the bedside table and whined as you slowly slid off the toy, the crotch of the lace panties a deep marroon as your walls clenched around nothing. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you put the dildo next to you and were sure to get it in frame, all shiny and glistening with your juices.

“Now what, Daddy?”

“Pick it back up and clean it off, baby.”

You did so without hesitation, moaning obscenely as you made a show of picking the toy up and running your tongue along its sides. He let out a low moan as he watched you watch him while you licked your juices off of it, swirling your tongue around the fake head like you would’ve if he was laying right there with you.

He hummed, the deep noise sending shivers down your spine as you placed it next to you and held the phone up before resting your head on the pillows behind you.

“All done,” you said coyly, biting your lower lip again as he ran a hand through his hair on the other side of the screen. Always did love when he did that.

Roman told you to put the toy back in the drawer where you found it and to change - both of which you did, dropping the dildo back into your toy chest and swapping out the soaked red panties for a tank top and silk shorts.

That’s future me’s problem, you thought when you noticed the wet spot staining your sheets, wearily moving around it before slipping under your blanket.

“I miss you, Ro. When are you getting back? Like, actually?” you asked, pouting your lips.

“I’ll be home in a week, babygirl,” he told you, out of breath and nearly falling back into the open lockers behind him. “You better not touch yourself until I get back.”

Your eyes went wide and you scrambled to sit up. “Huh? Why not?”

He ignored your question, moving over to his left to grab the towel that laid on the bench. Wiping off his chest again, he said assertively, “Your Daddy’s giving you a command, (Y/n). Follow it, or else I’m gonna put the belt on you for as long as I want.”

You gulped audibly, holding your tongue as your eyes grew wide. After a few seconds, you let out a soft “Ok” and he nodded in approval.

“That’s my girl. Now, be a good girl for me, and I’ll see you when I get home.”

He didn’t even wait for your reply, hanging up the call and shutting off his phone. Roman threw it back into his bag and sighed as his deep brown eyes wandered to the ceiling and he slumped back against the wall next to it.

She’s gonna end up killing me someday, he figured, wiping his hand down his face, but what a hell of a way to go.

                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[alrightinbed-betterwithapen]

Blue — Part One — David Dobrik x Reader

A/N: Hey-yo to anyone reading! This is my first time posting my work ever and it’s about the king maker, D. Dobrik. I hope you all enjoy it, I’m open to all criticism. Lemme know if the posting is weird or off. Un-beta’d rn, but I try to heavily edit. This is the first part of prolly a few parts that are in the works. I almost have the second part done, so we’ll see how this goes. Anywho, Kisses!

Warnings: slight dub-con, dom/sub, lack of communication, roughness, language, slightly smutty.

Summary: You never did claim you were smart when it comes to David. He’s turning in his seat to look at you and, of course, you shudder slightly.

You won’t leave until he tells you to...

It really was a simple arrangement at first.

—- x —-

Blue.

You liked blue the best. Green was a close second though.

You could lose track of time while staring at the deep blue that the bruise on your upper thigh was changing into. The bruise that started as a murky, ink water looking black color, was now blossoming into a sickly navy around the edges, the center of it still dark and swampy.

The green would appear in the next half day, ease its way next to the bluish, blackish mess. The green would make itself a home where the blue began, right along the edge. Maybe they would mix and create a painful yellow, a yellow you’d push at.

Hard.

Deep.

Angry.

Yellow was pretty, but you couldn’t accept it. No. Because yellow meant almost healed. Yellow meant in recovery. And there was no way in hell you’d allow your bruises to heal.

No, not when the rest of you was so, so not ready to get better.

Not if this was what being hurt meant.

You loved blue.

—- x —-

The hands gripping your upper thighs is too much. Too painful. Too heavy.

You let out a whimper, even though your whole body is shaking as you try holding it back.

“Oh,” he says, emotionless, “Oh no,” then his hands are gone. Pushing back off your thighs, pushing so your balance sways from where you are seated on the edge of the black upholstered pool table. Your legs still spread from where he stood just moments before.

David stands in front of you, an arms reach or two away, still and unmoving. His eyes hold the same anger you’ve become use to with him, hands clenched at his sides. His lips are swollen, but probably not as red or obvious as the trail of biting, stinging kisses he was just leaving from your collarbone and up your neck.

“You made a sound. I thought we discussed this earlier”, he murmurs through almost closed lips. His eyes never waver, never blink. All you can do is try to lessen the squirm that makes its way out of you.

Disappointment radiates down his body as he tips his head to the left, cracking his neck, and bring his arms crossed on his chest.

“We- you did. I’m sor-“ and the words tumble out before you can stop them.

He hates apologies. He also hates when you disobey the very clear cut rules he has started laying out at the beginning of each of these visits.

“Eh!” He tuts, livid, successfully shushing whatever your half baked excuse was going to be. Then he’s moving forwards, faster than you can comprehend, to grip your jaw in his left hand. He uses enough force that his fingers slip up and make your lips purse, eyes going wide. You can’t stop them from tearing up.

You have a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Your Uber will be here in a bit. Make sure you wait outside.”

His words hang in the air as he drops his hand from you, retracting sharply. Then there’s this sneer, slightly over drawn on his lips, but spitting venom nonetheless.

Then, there’s his back turned to you, walking across the living space and down his hallway.

Then there’s you, perched on the edge of a pool table, alone.

This is the first time he leaves bruises.

—- x —-

The only concealer that worked to cover the slight bruise on your jaw was expensive and you’re damn glad the worst of it was on your thighs. ‘Cause fuck, this is not something you wanted to add to your routine, financially or physical.

Your phone dings when a new message comes in. You finish wiping off the last of your days makeup, the deep yellow bruise appearing fully on the bottom half of your face.

Picking you up at 4am. Don’t make me wait.

It was fifteen past seven in the evening. You had a late lunch around four, and to be honest, your appetite hadn’t been right since you had been kicked out by him three nights ago. But, you weren’t ready for bed. You weren’t even that tired yet, but also, not nearly amped enough to stay up until the earliest of morning hours.

No. No way.

Fuck.

You’re already making your way to find pajamas to lay out, as you finished the internal struggle in your head. Why fight? It’s obvious which side wins.

Fuck him.

The octave skipping groan you let out into your bedroom does makes you feel a little bit better. It’s just slightly cathartic. It make you feel a little more in control of this evening.

Then, you’re walking briskly back to the bathroom to have a quick shower and jump into bed.

Fuck me.

Your desire to finish what was stopped so abruptly, is waaay out weighing your need to stand up for yourself. Not tonight.

Tonight, you’ll listen if it kills you.

—- x —-

The crisp air of the early morning makes your skin prickle. It charges every atom in your body for what you hope happens tonight... this morning. Whatever. It also helps wake your ass up.

It’s twenty til four. You had set your alarm for fifteen past three, because you’re pathetic and desperate. But you’ve never pretended to be anything less with David. Otherwise, this whole dynamic would never work.

Your hands itch for a cigarette, the menthol ones sitting in front of you on the sleek, white outdoor table on your balcony. They’re only a slight reach away, but that’s a fifty/fifty gamble, isn’t it?

David’s pulled a cigarette from between your lips and thrown it to the ground before. All while whispering obscenities about pretty girls who taste like tar in your ear. But later that night, he was licking into your mouth trying to chase the taste and then he fucked you stupid.

So, all bets are off.

You decide to not tempt fate as your phone starts beeping three shrill notes before pausing, getting ready to beep again. It’s sad how fast you answer, pathetic really.

“Are you up?”

It’s ten til four now. You breathe a sigh of relief and say, “Yeah, I’m waiting on my balcony. I’ve been up for half an hour.”

You literally cringe at yourself, so forthcoming with him, down to the most mundane details. You shrink in your seat and bring you legs up to your chest, and then back down, jittery with nerves. His deep, ringing laughter sounds through the phone and doesn’t help you relax at all.

“Good girl,” he purrs, amusement still thick in his low growling voice. “Now, get downstairs.”

The line dies before you can reply, thankfully. You would have betrayed yourself again, a sheepish Yes Sir bound to have come out of you weakly. And knowing your luck, he would be in a Yes Daddy mood and your night would start with a punishment that would get you off, but leave you empty.

You’re up, grabbing your phone and keys, bee lining for the door. With your old white Vans slipped on and black zip up hoodie pulled around your frame, you glance to the mirror just right of your front door. Your jaw bruise is more faded than a couple hours ago, but still noticeable. Your hair is tamed, but still a mess and there’s not a bit of makeup on your sleepy face. David doesn’t like make up on you. He hates the way the mascara and tears stain your cheeks.

The walk out your door and down to him feels equally like a short journey to salvation and a long crawl towards hell. You are always torn, it’s what you want, but not quite. He’s not enough and far too much, and you’re addicted.

As you make your way to the edges of the parking lot, you can see his blue light illuminated face tilted down towards his phone. His brow is furrowed and you have a feeling you’re in for it tonight. He doesn’t glance up as you wait for him to open the passenger side door of his white, shiny Tesla, but his fingers push the button. He doesn’t acknowledge you while you get seated and start to buckle up, except to prod at the same button to close the door. He pulls at neck of his red hoodie, and sits up to drive.

You could speak first, but the fear of setting him off stops you. He’s pulling out of the parking space, phone haphazardly being thrown into the center console. It’s when you’re pulling the seatbelt the final few inches around your body to secure, that he reaches over to grab your wrist, stopping you.

“You don’t trust my driving?”

What a loaded fucking question. It’s like he’s trying to get you to piss him off, and that’s a bad sign in itself. You’re stuck staring at his profile while he gazes out onto the road.

He means, you don’t trust me?

No. Not particularly. You barely trust him with your orgasms (and that has shown to be a bad idea lately), let alone your life.

But that’s not a wise answer. That’s a very stupid answer. Especially since his knuckles are slowly growing white as his grip tightens on the wheel. He’s growing impatient while waiting for a response.

You drop the seat belt from your hand, the hand David hadn’t dropped yet, and let it snap back to where it rests near the door. The beginnings of a smirk make his lips tilt up. He still doesn’t look at you as he pulls his hand back. You want the ground to swallow you whole.

The red imprint of his fingers around your wrist where his hand had held you moments ago was already fading away. Not a bruise this time. Why did that make you ache?

“Besides, you can’t blow me with your seat belt on,” he says so, so casually, you have to stop yourself from recoiling.

He still doesn’t fucking look at you. And you have to make your eyes stop being so god damn wide as his left hand goes to push down his black sweatpants, past his hips to settle on his upper thighs. He’s just slightly hard, and you salivate. You’re pushing your self up on the seat and across the console in two long blinks (and far too quickly to be called anything other than needy). Your eyes look down to his growing member and then up to his face, over and over. You’re licking your lips before pooling the saliva in your mouth to the front, getting ready to sloppily and messy take him in.

His right hand sharply stops you, quickly tangling itself in the back of your hair and pulling you to a stop. There might have been a beep from the car signaling self drive mode was activated while you made your way over the console, but you can’t be sure. What you are aware of is the hand still gripped in your hair and the other reaching to your jaw, fitting nicely onto the bruise still lingering, to pull your face level with his.

He looks right through you.

“I didn’t say you could start,” he says with an adoring tilt to his voice that is counter active to the way he pulls at your hair harder and grips your jaw tighter. You’re being pushed forcefully back into the passenger seat like a rag doll and then he’s back to his natural position at the wheel. Staring straight ahead as goes to enable control of the vehicle and swiftly pull up the waistband of his pants. His amused, smitten voice unchanging when he says, “So eager that you don’t wait for my orders. Should I turn around, drop you back off?”

His left index and middle finger tap the wheel pointedly, staggered. The sound looms in your silence. You shake your head and murmur the quietest No you can muster. You back is flat against the passenger door where he tossed you. You can only stare ahead at him. Frozen.

“Tonight, you do not take initiative, you do what I tell you. You don’t speak or make noises unless I allow you to. You don’t think for yourself, at all. Starting now.”

You think his words should be a question. You think there should be a negotiation and an open line of communication. You think, this is the moment where you should be able to say “no,” and “please, not tonight,” and “I just want to make you feel good, I want to be good for you but I can’t under those terms.”

But that’s not how this works. That’s not how this had ever worked.

He watches you, from the corner of his eye, nod twice in your seat. His tilted smirk lights his face up with mischief. He doesn’t look at you for the rest of the ride to his house.

—- x —-

This whole arrangement had been perfect for the both of you, and casual as hell. It was the ideal way to compartmentalize the hectic schedules you both survived every day. You each had your own busy lives that neither of you felt the need to mix and complicate with a full functioning relationship. Not when it was really only the lack of sex that put you both on edge and unable to focus on your own lives and careers. The two of you were similar in this aspect, workaholics with control and self care issues.

This though, the pain and dominance or whatever, this was newer.

He had started this several weeks ago, with a simple request to not move a fucking muscle after he changed positions. He repositioned you on your knees, elbows bracing your weight under you and ass pulled up high. Even after his brutal thrusts had returned, you didn’t tremble or shake. You didn’t shift your weight or adjust your elbows. You were still. And David came embarrassingly fast.

But you’re one to talk, you came twice before he did, sweating profusely with the exertion of not moving.

From then, it was in everything you did. The requests became bolder and started appearing earlier in the nights you spent together. His requests quickly turned to orders over the course of three and a half weeks to the point you’re at now.

Just waiting, silently, in his car for the instructions to get out and follow him as he kills the engine.

You can’t remember the last time you were able to ask him how his day was. Even if it was an empty pleasantry, you did kind of miss it. You missed feeling like every thing you did around him wasn’t a fuck up.

You’re not sure if he’s gotten angrier or just accepted himself more, but the sudden changes in him has given you emotional whiplash along side the marks he physically left. You hated this as much as you loved it.

And if you were smart, you’d cut this shit off right now. You’d get out, call your own Uber and fucking wait for it at the curb outside the gates to his property, like you did last night. You’d cut your losses and high tail it before you broke completely under his will.

Well, you never did claim you were smart when it comes to David.

He’s turning in his seat to look at you and, of course, you shudder slightly. You won’t leave until he tells you to.

It really was a simple arrangement at first.

—- x —-

Part Two — Part Three — Part Four — Part Five

[moonwaif]

Snow Over Insomnia: ch. 1

Pairings: Gladnis, promptis

Theme: snowed in

Summary:

Once a year, Shiva blesses Insomnia with snowfall. This year's snow day finds four friends in transition. There's Noctis, who's trying his best to enjoy freshman year. With his best friend Prompto enrolled at a different college, it hasn't been easy. When a particularly controversial lecture puts Noctis on the spot, he says some things he regrets. Can he make amends before their friendship freezes over?

Meanwhile, there's Gladiolus, who's finding it increasingly difficult to deny his feelings for coworker and friend Ignis Scientia. The appearance of a mysterious figure from Ignis's past might just be the sign that it's time to come clean. Will Gladio make a move, or will he let the opportunity melt away?

PT. I: 10:12 hours

It was a good thing Noctis had remembered to mute his laptop before class started, because he received his first message from Prompto just twelve minutes into the lecture.

Prompto: brrrr! Freezing my a$$ off this morning

A selfie instantly followed: Prompto in a warm jacket and white beanie, grimacing up at the camera with a steaming coffee cup clutched in his gloved hand.

Noctis: heh. nice pic. whatcha drinking?

Prompto: mocha moogle latte. Yummm ;P

Noctis: all that sugar is gonna give you a headache

Prompto: hahaha yeah, probably. but i need some caffeine. i couldnt sleep all night thinking about that presentation!!!!  ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

Prompto: so we still getting snowed in tonight?

Noct's smile widened. It wasn’t often that Shiva graced the arid landscape of Lucis with her affections, but at least once a year, snow fell on the city of Insomnia. Sometimes it was a few flakes, sometime just sleet. On rare occasions, such as the one predicted by Insomnian weather channels on this particular day, it was a blizzard.

Noctis: heck yeah! hope you're ready to binge some King’s Knight.

Prompto: ugh am i ever. so ready to chill after getting this presentation out of the way…

Noctis leaned back in his chair, brow furrowing. He cast a quick glance at projector screen down at the front of the hall: a slide about the Lucian civil war.

Noctis: y? U nervous?’

Prompto: yeah

Prompto: stomach hurts

Prompto: p sure im gonna throw up

Noctis: relax, prom

Noctis: you've been practicing a lot, right?

Noctis: you're gonna be great

Prompto: dude you have no idea what id give to hear you say that rn

Prompto: i wish we still went to the same school

Prompto:  ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

A dull, tight ache formed in the center of Noct's chest. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the reply coming slower this time.

Noctis: me too.

Prompto: yeah...

Prompto: too bad my best friend has to go to a fancy schmancy ivy league school for geniuses (¬‿¬)

Noctis rolled his eyes.

Noctis: im not here cuz im a genius, prom

Prompto: his majesty is sooooo modest ;)

Noctis: srlsy

Noctis: im like most of the ppl here. average.

Noctis: the only genius ive met so far is specs

Prompto: lol youre just saying that to make me feel better

Noctis: nah. youre way cooler than like half of the people here

Prompto: ♥‿♥

Prompto: too bad i cant afford the tuition lol. id kill to have iggy as my teacher

Noctis glanced up from his computer. From his own seat in the center of the hall, Ignis was just a small figure behind an even smaller podium. Still, Noctis had to admit that Specs was definitely in his element at the front of a classroom. His fitted grey sweater, crisp collar and perfectly coiffed hair were every bit the image of the up-and-coming academian. The freshmen in the front row hung dreamily on every elegant gesture of his gloved hands as his voice rang out through the hall, crisp and clear as water. He said something that sent a murmur of laughter through the rows of desks. Noctis smiled.

Noctis: yeah its not bad

Prompto: duh!! hes probably way cooler than all of my professors combined

Prompto: anyway, g2g. Gonna try to run through my presentation one more time before class starts

Prompto: (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

Noctis: dont worry prom. Youre gonna kick this presentation in the ass.

Prompto: thanks dude

Prompto: catch ya later

Noctis let his gaze linger on the final message, Iggy’s melodic tones lilting in the background. He tuned in long enough just to get the gist of the topic (ugh - still on the Lucian civil war). He turned his attention back to his laptop and clicked on an open tab, which took him directly to Prompto’s ChocoGram feed. There weren’t any new updates, but that didn’t stop him from smiling as he reviewed some of the earlier posts: Prompto getting ready to dig into a steaming, greasy pizza; a #tbt selfie featuring the baby chocobo they’d helped rescue during their summer road trip to Lestallum; a prank-selfie with a drooling, sleeping Gladio. Noctis chuckled. He’d been there when Prompto had taken that one. Even Gladio had agreed that the shot was just too good not to share.

He continued scrolling. A bunch of people Noctis didn't know, probably at a party; a filtered, black-and-white shot of a glistening, neon lit alley; a selfie with some guy Noctis had never seen before; a picture of the school’s mascot, tagged #gocactuars; Prompto wearing glasses…

Wait a second.

Noctis scrolled back to the photo of Prompto and the stranger. “Hanging with the coolest TA around,” read the caption. Tagged: #whenyourfriendhasthesamemajor, #collegelife #insomniaboys.

Friend, huh?

Noct’s eyes narrowed. He silently listed off any names he’d heard Prompto mention over the past semester as he analyzed the man’s features: platinum hair; a strong chin; sharp, intelligent eyes whose color he couldn’t quite discern through the ChocoGram filter. He let the cursor hover over the smug, obnoxious grin. A tagged username appeared: “Ghiranzenator.”

Before Noctis could really stop to self-reflect, he was scrolling through Ghiranzenator’s feed. It was the kind of content you’d expect from a twenty-something with a pompadour and generic good looks. Gym selfies tagged #fitnesslifestyle; poses in scenic, well-known locations captioned with thought-provoking yet totally irrelevant quotes (ugh, so pretentious). He wondered how Prompto even knew this guy. Was he the TA for one of Prompto’s classes? Did they have mutual friends? If so, why hadn’t Prompto mentioned him before? But now that Noctis thought about it, like really thought about it, he hadn’t really heard Prompto say a whole lot about any of the new friends he was making at school.

Wasn't that kind of weird?

A crumpled wad of paper plummeted through his thoughts, ricocheting off his forehead. Noct's head snapped in the direction it had come from. His eyes were met by a vision of Gladio, squeezed into a desk barely large enough to accommodate his lanky frame.

“Pay. Attention,” he mouthed, cocking his head in Iggy’s direction.

Noctis scowled. That was the one downside of having his bodyguard disguised as a classmate. Gladio was just all too ready to make sure Noct behaved like a good little student. The plus side was that Noct had at least one friend who could commiserate with his suffering.

Like now, for instance. A fan club member from the front row was monologuing, earning exasperated looks from his classmates. Noctis and Gladio exchanged a few muffled snickers.

“Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us, Cleetus,” Ignis cut in, his voice laced with a strain so barely audible that Noct and Gladio were probably the only ones who even picked up on it. “As you have noted for us, it is quite interesting that most rebel demands would be considered centrist by modern standards. However, we should recognize one deconstructionist philosopher whose theories remain polarizing even to this day.”

Ignis went to the next slide. A portrait of a wide-jawed man with a face only a mother garula could love brooded down from the display screen.

“Oh great,” Noctis muttered, drawing a confused look from Gladio. “Not this guy…”

"Regulus Invicta," Ignis continued, "is remembered as one of the strongest advocates for freedom of speech throughout the history of Lucis. However, what is less commonly remembered are his persistent demands for the de-establishment of the monarchy in favor of what we would now refer to as a democratic socialist republic. Even during the Lucian civil war, Invicta was a controversial figure. At first his philosophies were embraced by the deconstructionists, who sought to overthrow the Lucis Caelums in favor of a fragmented nation-states ruled by regional noblemen. They were less in favor of his leanings toward a democratic socialist republic. Despite this difference of opinion, Invicta was one of the few intellectuals of his time that insisted on the right of deconstructionists to espouse their ideals without punishment or censorship. Unfortunately, this insistence, combined with his involvement with radical circles, led to his eventual imprisonment. He would die of consumption shortly thereafter.”

A hand shot up - the same wind-bag from before.

“Yes, Cleetus?” Ignis’s smile was tight.

“Professor Scientia, as you were speaking I couldn’t help but remember an essay I came across in the Lucian History Journal the other day. The article was about the evolution of Lucian collective memory of the civil war.”

Gladio chuckled. “Oh boy. Here he goes again. This guy really can’t stop himself, can he?”

Noctis wasn’t laughing. He wanted Ignis to get back on topic and finish explaining why Invicta and the deconstructionists were wrong.

“According to the arguments propounded throughout the essay” - Gladio actually snorted at this point - “collective opinion regarding Invicta and the deconstructionists split after Lucis became a constitutional monarchy. Invicta was distanced from the deconstructionists and by means of propaganda -”

Bells went off in Noct’s head. Propaganda? What was this guy trying to get at?

“ - and state sanctioned school curriculum -”

Noctis gripped the arms of his desk, knuckles whitening.

“ - Invicta gradually became celebrated as one of the fathers of free speech. Meanwhile, his links to deconstructionists were covered up, preventing further instability to Lucian society while conveniently appropriating the parts that aligned with contemporary values.”

He paused for a breath. Ignis stepped out from behind the podium, quick to seize back control of the conversation.

“Your statements indicate a very post-modern interpretation of the historical records, Cleetus,” he remarked politely. “It’s interesting that you bring up social instability. Although not as commonly espoused today, there are ideologues who from time to time self-identify as deconstructionists. However, they are often ridiculed by both leftists and conservatives, rarely gaining any political legitimacy. In this way, the general public remains largely unexposed to contemporary deconstructionism outside of the occasional satirical representation on late night TV shows or the funnies.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

There was a rustle as heads turned in Noct's direction. Ignis adjusted his glasses.

“Is there something you would like to share, Prince Noctis?”

Shit. Gladio slid down low in his seat, muttering something that sounded a lot like, “Smooth move, Noct.”

Noctis cleared his throat. His cheeks felt like two flames. “N- not particularly.”

“Very well.” Ignis returned his attention to the slides. Noctis averted his eyes, only to be met by the expectant gazes coming his way from the next row down. His gaze happened to fall on Cleetus, he shot him a particularly snide smirk from over his shoulder.

Something in Noctis snapped.

“It’s just that, you said ‘satirical.’”

Ignis stopped mid-sentence. Scandalized whispers rippled throughout the hall. Gladio was actually facepalming. Meanwhile, Noctis’s cheeks somehow managed to get even hotter. He felt the need to continue.

“I just thought - well, it sounds like you think those depictions are kind of inaccurate, or something.”

Gods, he was sounding extremely upset and defensive right now, wasn’t he? What had happened to all that training in diplomacy and public speaking? Embarrassing.

“Satire is merely a genre, your highness," Ignis demured. "One that hyperbolizes a real-life topic or theme with intent to criticize, ridicule or expose. We may identify this genre from a neutral standpoint without either validating or condemning the arguments contained within the work itself.”

Noctis schooled his expression so it’d look like he’d understood this last bit.

“But you said the satirical representation is the only representation people see. Doesn’t that imply that there’s another representation that most people don’t get to see?”

“There normally is more than one side to every story,” Ignis said lightly, and his lips curved in such a smug, handsome grin that Noctis could have chucked his laptop at him.

“Yeah, but sometimes one side has better evidence than the other one. Shouldn’t that also be part of the discussion?”

He was pressuring Ignis to agree with him, to say that the deconstructionists were “wrong” and the monarchy was “right” and therefore Noctis was right, too. That the deconstructionists were just radical, terrorist nutjobs whose hogwash theories did more harm than good, so why even bother discussing them at all? Noctis knew it. Gladio knew it. Most of all, Ignis probably knew it.

So why were they still disagreeing?

“Indeed. However, the objective of today’s lecture is merely to review the deconstructionism as an historical movement. I will leave the evaluation of the ideas espoused by said movement to all of you in your term papers.”

A smattering of chuckles. Oh yes, how adorable, how clever. Noctis opened his mouth to let loose another retort when Gladio nudged his foot.

"Let it go," he mouthed with a slight shake of his head. Noctis grit his teeth with an audible “tch,” nails biting into the surface of his palms. He deliberately avoided Gladio’s gaze, instead fixing his attention on his laptop. The Ghiranzenator taunted him from the other side of the screen, all chiseled jawline and knowing smile.

Noctis closed the laptop with a ‘snap.’

PT. II: 13:00 hours

“I was too hard on him, wasn’t I?”

The words were out of Ignis’s mouth before Gladio had even stepped through the door. The office was tiny - more like a closet, really. Gladio tossed a small paper bag onto the desk and pulled up a seat, careful not to spill the coffee in his other hand.

“What’s this?” Ignis asked, peering owlishly from behind his computer. Gladio handed over the coffee.

“Thought you could use a pick-me up," he replied. "And nah; Noct is tough. He gets worse from me during an average training session.”

“You’re just saying that,” Ignis mumbled, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip. “Mmm, Gladio, this is delicious. Thank you.”

Gladio crossed his legs, leaning back with a pleased smile. “Heh. Thought you’d like that. And no, I’m not just saying that. Noct is pissed off, but he’ll live. Try some of the scone.”

Ignis reached into the paper bag obediently. “I should have waited until after class,” he muttered. “Or warned him about the topic before hand.”

“Yeah, that probably would’ve helped.”

“I just don’t want to allow him more special privileges than I already have! How am I supposed to prepare him for his future responsibilities if I keep treating him differently from the other students? Can you imagine, just last night he actually asked me to check his homework!”

“Did you?”

“What do you think?” Ignis snapped. “We live together for Eos’s sake, of course I did!"

“Yikes. How’s the scone?”

Ignis scowled. “You really must stop bringing me sugar. This is why my skin is breaking out.”

“One bite won’t hurt, prince charming.”

Ignis broke a off a tiny piece and popped it into his mouth, but not before shooting Gladio a glare.

“Relax, Iggy. Just give Noct a little time to cool down, think things through. He’ll come around.”

Ignis gave him a doubtful look. He took another bite.

“At least this scone is palatable.”

Gladio flashed him a cheeky smile. “Does that mean you’ll raise my grade professor?”

“I’ll consider it. After all, for an auditing student you do have unusually consistent attendance.”

“Someone’s gotta show up and keep the crown prince in line. Who better than his protector and professional babysitter, the royal shield?”

“Pity you have to sit through my lectures. I imagine it’s dull.”

“Nah. You’re way more interesting than the profs I had during my undergrad.”

‘A lot easier on the eyes, too,’ he thought. His gaze lingered on Ignis’s full, rosy lips before silently flickering away.

“There’s no need for flattery, Gladio. It’s not like I can actually give you credit for the course.”

“Sorry. Guess your little front row fan club is wearing off on me.”

Ignis reddened. He took a hurried sip of coffee, obviously stalling. Gladio grinned, letting himself indulge in the rare sight of a flustered Ignis.

“If the students show enthusiasm,” Ignis began, once he’d finished composing himself, “it is merely due to the engaging nature of the subject.”

“Oh, right. Lucian history makes me blush and squeal, too.”

“Did you come here for the sole purpose of force feeding me scones and distracting me from my work?”

“Why, is it working? Just kidding,” he added quickly at the stern look he received. “Actually, I thought we should touch base on our lovely royal charge’s training schedule over the Solstice. Iris has been bugging me about plans. She wants to invite the entire Amicitia clan over for a get-together.”

“Let me pull up my calendar.” Ignis swiveled in his chair, facing the computer monitor. Gladio contemplated his profile, thrown into sharp relief by the glow of the LED back-light. A million potential lines ran through his head. ‘It should be illegal to be so gorgeous.’ ‘You ever seen an angel up close? Because those cheekbones are high enough to graze the heavens.’

“Got any plans for the Solstice, Iggy?”

“I’m hoping to finish drafting my thesis proposal,” Ignis answered, with a light click of the mouse. “I’d also like to try my hand at a leiden sweet potato casserole. See if I can get Prince Noctis to eat something other than meat for a change.”

Gladio snickered. “Good luck with that last one. By the way, what’s your thesis about again? Food politics - “

“ - with Duscae as a case study for increased multifunctionality in agricultural policy making, yes.” Ignis spared him a brief glance, eyes crinkled with amusement. “I’m impressed you remember.”

‘Course I do,’ Gladio thought dismally. ‘I’ve Moogle searched every article you’ve ever published.’

Fortunately, he was spared the need to reply. One more click of the mouse, and Ignis was tilting the monitor in his direction.

“There we are. So, which dates does Iris have in mind?”

“She’s really got her eyes set on the day of the Solstice, as well the day right before and after. She needs me to help cook, put out decorations…”

‘Basically all the stuff we used to do when mom was around,’ he thought.

“I see. Why don’t I just make a note on my calendar for now? We can continue meeting as planned for the next two weeks. When it comes time, we'll evaluate how Noct is doing. Perhaps it won’t even be necessary for us to meet over the week of the Solstice.”

“Thanks Iggy. I appreciate it.”

“Certainly. It’s imperative that you spend quality time with your family over the holidays, uninterrupted.”

His smile was sad. Of course; Ignis didn't really have any family around to celebrate with. Gladio jiggled his knee, hesitating.

“H-hey, Iggy,” he began cautiously. “Y’know, if you don’t have any plans for the Solstice, you’re always welcome to - “

“Ah, Ignis! Just the man I was looking for.”

Ignis stood as two people Gladiolus had never seen before entered the office. The first was an attractive, bespectacled woman with golden hair swept back in an elegantly casual updo. Gladio, always the gentleman, rose instantly to his feet, pushing in his chair and squeezing back against the bookshelf in an effort to free up some space for her in the tiny room. She was followed by a pale young man who stood shoulder to shoulder with Gladiolus, which was a rare enough occurrence. What was really odd was Ignis's reaction. He blanched as the man entered. Then he was turning away to face the woman, almost as if he'd never even noticed the other visitor at all.

“Dr. Trepe! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Her lips curved in a perfect cupid’s bow. “Ignis, dear, how many times must I remind you? Call me Quistis. Anyway, I was just giving Prince Ravus a tour of the department.” She gestured toward the man beside her.

Oh - so that’s why he looked familiar. Gladio had often seen the royal Nox Fleuret duo on magazine covers or on TV. Ravus cut a striking figure in person, with his wintry complexion and dual colored eyes. He seemed to resent being watched, interrupting Gladio’s examination with a peculiarly frigid glare.

“Prince Ravus will be joining our department as a research scholar next semester,” Quistis explained. “Your majesty, Ignis is a grad student and TA in our department. As you may be aware, he also serves as the royal advisor to Crown Prince Noctis. He’s quite the feather in the department’s cap.”

Gladio beamed, eyeing Ignis with pride. What he saw surprised him. Iggy’s shoulders were tense, his face frozen in a mask of false politeness.

Something was wrong.

“Thank you, Dr. Trepe. As it stands, I’ve already had the good fortune of making Mr. Scientia’s acquaintance.”

Gladio’s eyes snapped in Ravus’s direction. His expression was unreadable, but his tone of voice suggested that whatever fortune had been at play was anything but “good.”

“Indeed.” Ignis mustered a weak smile. “I’m honored his highness remembers me.”

Ravus flinched, the movement so quick it was barely perceptible. Gladio glanced between them. Whatever vibe was going on here, he didn't like it one bit. He asked the question before he could stop himself.

“How do you two know each other?”

Ignis gasped. “Oh, by the six - where are my manners? Dr. Trepe - “

“Quistis.”

“Quistis” - Ignis blushed - “and Prince Ravus, please allow me to introduce Gladiolus Amicitia, Prince Noctis’s sworn shield, as well as one of my dearest friends.”

Gladio’s chest swelled until it threatened to burst. He crossed his arms, lip quirking up into a satisfied smirk.

'Dearest friend, huh?'

“I see,” Quistis murmured, tapping her chin. Her eyes ran up and down Gladio’s frame with an openly appraising look. “I apologize for interrupting your discussion, Gladiolus. I doubt we made a very good impression.”

“Meeting a colleague of Iggy’s is never an imposition,” Gladio assured her. “Especially not when that colleague is as elegant and beautiful as yourself.”

Quistis blushed, blue eyes sparkling behind her spectacles. “I never imagined the royal shield was such a charmer. You’ll have to bring him around more often, Ignis.”

There was a momentary, infinitesimal fracture in Ignis’s facade. “Yes, well, I daren’t keep his majesty any longer," he said quickly. "I’m sure you’re both quite eager to continue the tour. Prince Ravus, it truly was a pleasure seeing you again. I look forward to our collaboration in the coming semester.”

“As do I,” Ravus snapped, his words laced with such venom that even Quistis sent him a mildly startled look. “Dr. Trepe, shall we?”

“C-certainly. Gladiolus, it was a pleasure. And Ignis, we’ll be seeing you tonight at the reception, won’t we?”

“Of course. The Grand Hotel Insomnia at six o’ clock, correct?”

“Not exactly ideal weather for an event, is it?” Gladio interjected, frowning. “The roads are supposed to freeze after seven.”

Ignis dismissed him with a breezy laugh. “Yes, well, you know what they say Gladio - the show must go on! Until tonight then, Dr. Trepe...Prince Ravus.”

He bowed at the waist. Gladio rushed to follow suit, but not before glimpsing the pain that flashed across the prince’s strange, distant eyes. Then he was gone, sweeping off down the hall without a word of acknowledgement. Quistis rushed after him. Gladio waited until he no longer heard the clicking of her high heels before he spoke.

“What was that all about?”

Ignis began fussing with the papers on his desk. “Dr. Trepe was introducing the newest addition to our department.”

“Who you just happen to already know.”

“Is that so odd? You and I often cross paths with royalty in our line of work.”

“Uh-huh.” Gladio approached the desk, leaning over and splaying both hands across the surface. “So, you gonna tell me how you two actually know each other?”

“I don’t see that it’s any concern of yours,” Ignis replied, voice unusually clipped. Gladio ignored the sting.

“I’m just curious - y’know, as a dear friend and colleague. Why so defensive?”

Ignis slammed down a folder, nostrils flaring. “Fine. Spring 752. I did a semester in Tenebrae. Prince Ravus was a student at the university. We made acquaintance.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Gladio shrugged. “Dunno. Just thought I sensed some hostility between you two.”

“Enough, Gladio!”

The outburst stunned them both. Gladio took a step back. He ran a hand through his hair, trying fiercely not to look as hurt as he felt. After a long moment of silence, Ignis heaved a sigh.

“Forgive me, Gladio. It’s just a rather...unpleasant story, if I’m being honest. I wasn’t expecting to meet him like this, and...I’d rather not talk about it all just yet.”

Gladio chuckled harshly. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one being the asshole here. Sticking my nose in your business. But if you ever do feel like talking about it, or there’s any way I can help...just let me know.”

“Thank you, Gladio,” he said softly, and the smile he turned on him was so full of warmth and relief that it hurt to look at.

Gladio hurried to change the subject.

“You sure you’re good to go to this reception thing? Ravus will probably be there, too.”

“I’ll be fine. I merely need a moment to compose myself. I do apologize I won’t be able to join you at the gym today. I was quite looking forward to showing off my new gains.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. Gladio snorted.

“Save it for next time, hot shot. But seriously, Iggy - the roads are supposed to get pretty bad tonight. Call me if you need a ride.”

“Certainly; I’m sure Dr. Trepe would just love it if you popped by.”

“Iggy.”

“Don’t worry; I promise I’ll behave myself.”

“You better. Don’t wanna go setting a bed example for Noct.”

Ignis’s smile fell. Gladio rolled his eyes, reaching for the half-eaten pastry on the desk.

“Talk to ‘im,” he said through a mouthful of scone. “Better yet, feed him and then talk. He’s always in a better mood when his stomach’s full.”

“Oh Gladio.” Ignis shook his head. “If only I could be as certain as you are.”

‘But I’m not certain,’ Gladio thought to himself. The uncertainty followed him as he took his leave, wandering through the empty halls of the department alone. Noct could be stubborn, and Ignis had a tendency to cave in. Hopefully they'd be able to come to terms without too much of a fuss.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didnt see the figure rounding the corner, hurtling straight at him. He barely managed to come to a stop before they collided.

“Whoa there!” he exclaimed, stumbling backward. “My bad, are you - ?”

The charity in his voice withered and died as he looked up into the face of the passerby.

Ravus Nox Fleuret.

“Ahem. Pardon me, your majesty.” He stepped aside, the polite gesture a reflex after so many years as a retainer. Ravus, however, stood quite still, eyes fixed on Gladio intently - almost as if he were measuring him up.

Gladio’s jaw clenched.

“There a problem, highness?”

Ravus looked away, making a soft, dismissive noise in the back of his throat. He strode past Gladio with his nose held high, sharp footsteps echoing off the walls like a hailstorm. Gladio’s eyes narrowed, gaze following him over his shoulder. The uneasy feeling was back, creeping up from the pit of his stomach like clutching vines.

Whatever history Ravus and Iggy had together, Gladio had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t the good kind.

He tore himself away with a sigh.

“Forget about it,” he muttered firmly. “Iggy can handle himself. It’s not like you have any say in the matter, anyway.”

Still, it was a good thing he kept a spare set of clothes locked up at the campus rec facility. He was gonna need an extra challenging workout today.

TBC...

[beefybuffybucky]

The Moth and the Flame (Pt. 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!HoH!enhanced!Reader - Avengers x female!HoH!enhanced!Reader - Clint Barton x female!HoH!enhanced!Reader

Summary: Reader is a new member to the Avengers team, and encounters quite a few challenges being the only HoH (hard of hearing) member of the team, but Bucky tries to help. But when Clint comes into the picture, things get more complicated.  

Warnings: i suppose a wee, miniscule amount of angst, but there will be a ton more angst soon !!

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: i’m sick and suffering and have like five fics i’m working on rn but barely found the willpower to finish this one (due in part to mental illness and working a shit ton) so hopefully i can actually finish one and feel good about it for once ?? i’m literally so sorry this part is so shitty

READ PART ONE AND PART TWO HERE!!

The next few days were all training, and no games. Your body ached from the hits, kicks, and pins it had absorbed, and you had blossoming bruises to show it. Natasha truly was relentless.

By dinner, you were so exhausted that you could barely stay awake to eat, let alone go out to get drinks with Clint. While you had been spending time with Clint, signing with him at dinner, and intersecting each other in the hallways, you had hardly seen Bucky, thanks to your insane schedule.

Today, you hadn’t seen Bucky all day, and grabbed your phone from your pocket to text him when instead, you saw a text from Clint.

Drinks?

It had been sent about fifteen minutes ago, and it was only 7p.m. You tap your fingers against the side of your phone as you think.

Sure, you type out. I’ll meet you downstairs in 15.

A small, excited smile pulls at your lips as you nearly jump off the bed and rummage through your drawers, in search of something to wear that would be better than sweaty gym clothes. After pulling on jeans, an old-school band shirt, and a flannel, you pick out some black boots and nearly skip down the hall, giddy with anticipation. As soon as you turn the corner that leads you to the common room, you run straight into Bucky, your breath nearly being knocked out of your chest.

“Sorry, Bucky!” You sign frantically.

“It’s O.K.,” Bucky signs back, a wide, toothy smile pulling at his lips. A light flutter ripples through your heart, moving down slowly through your chest as you watch his smile grow, a captivating sparkle igniting in his eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Your signing is already so good!” You sign enthusiastically, thoroughly impressed by how much he has learned in only a few days time. “I’m going to get drinks with Clint.”

Bucky nods slowly, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Have fun,” he signs with a forced, small smile as he continues back down the hall. Your eyes trail him as he goes, a soft sigh tumbling from your lips. You take the elevator down to the main floor and spy Clint waiting for you, casually dressed in a white t-shirt and dark-wash jeans.

You wave to him, smiling widely as you nearly skip over to him.

“You look great!” Clint signs enthusiastically, his expression excited and impressed. A gentle scent of lavender reaches your nose, and his pale blonde hair shines orange in the pale glow of the setting sun.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you sign back, chuckling softly. “Ready to go?”

“You took the words right out of my hands,” Clint laughs, his eyes sparkling as he smiles. He opens the door for you and waves you through, making you blush. His hand brushes lightly against yours as you walk out to the garage, hesitantly watching Clint as he chooses a motorcycle.

“Are you sure you know how to ride that?” You sign comically, looking at him with your head tilted.

“Yes,” Clint dramatically rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he signs with a smile spreading across his face. You grin widely, your heart fluttering as you climb onto the back of the bike, slowly wrapping your arms around his chest, the warmth of his body calming your nerves. You nearly squeal as the bike takes off from the garage, silently humming as it speeds down a winding road through a lush, orange forest. You open your eyes all the way and look around you as brilliant oranges, yellows, and reds blur around you, a wild, giddy smile pulling at your lips. Your breath is nearly taken away as the bike bursts out of the forest, leaving it behind as you cross a bridge over a large, sparkling blue river tinted orange by the setting sun.

Clint pulls into a parking spot in front of a small, semi-shady bar and uses his foot to put down the kickstand. After sliding off the bike, he offers you a hand. You take it and swing your leg over to bike, then follow him inside.

Wisps of cigarette smoke and delightful chatter mixing with rowdy laughter drift through the atmosphere, the dim lighting making it hard to clearly see the entire room. Everything happening at once blurs into one dull, loud noise, and anxiety begins to bubble beneath your skin just as Clint pulls out a seat for you at the bar, then sits next to you and digs around in his pocket for something. He holds out his hand to you, and gives you two ear plugs. You take them, looking at him curiously.

“I know being hard of hearing and having all those noises can be annoying,” Clint signs as he explains calmly. “I brought those for you.”

“Thank you,” you sign back, smiling as you put them in your ears, and the instant blockage of the weird noises around you immediately begins to soothe you. Clint asks you what you want, and he tells the bartender for you. Soon after, the bartender slides the drinks down the counter, and you thank her with a soft smile.

“So,” Clint signs after taking a swig of his beer. “Where are you from?”

“I grew up in the Midwest,” you sign calmly after taking the cherry out of your own drink and popping it into your mouth. “Nothing too exciting.”

“Have you always been hard of hearing?” Clint signs, his brows turned downward in curiosity.

“All my life,” you shrug as you sign. “Have you always been deaf?”

“Pretty much,” Clint nods, signing fluidly. “What brings you to the team?”

“Good question,” you smile as you sign. “I can read minds and I’m a pretty decent fighter, if I do say so myself,” you smirk slowly as you joke with him.

“We’ll see about that,” Clint smiles widely as he signs, then drinks more of his beer.

“Is that a challenge?” You retort, signing sternly as you squint at him, smirking softly.

“Absolutely,” Clint laughs, leaning forward in his seat. “So, do you have a family?”

“My dad left when I was really little,” you shrug with one shoulder as you sign, taking a steadying breath. “It’s always just been my mom, me, and my sister.”

“You have a sister?” He asks, his expression pure curiosity. You nod in response before thinking of what to sign back.

“She died a few years ago,” you sign sadly, tears pricking at your eyes as your chest clenches.

“I’m sorry,” Clint signs as his face drops. “I didn’t mean to bring up anything painful like that.”

“It’s not your fault,” you reassure him as your fingers slowly breeze through the air. “We all knew it was her time.” After a few long pauses, you meet his eyes again. “How long have you been on the team?”

“A while,” Clint offers a reassuring smile as he signs back. “They’re basically my family. I’m sure you’ll feel like that soon, too.”

“Everyone feels very welcoming,” you smile at him. “Especially Bucky. He’s even learning sign.”

“He is?” Clint chuckles softly as he signs, a glint of jealousy shining through his darkened eyes. “He never tried for me. You must be special.”

“I guess I am,” you blush as you sign back, hiding your expression behind your glass as you take another sip from your drink, letting your body relax into the buzz of the alcohol. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you slip it out to read a message from Bucky on the screen.

I have to ask you something when you get back

You take a soft breath as you text back a quick response and slide the phone back into your pocket.

“Care to dance?” Clint signs after finishing his drink.

“I can’t really tell the difference in vibrations from the people around us and the music, but sure,” you smile goofily as you sign excitedly. Your phone buzzes in your pocket again and you check it.

It’s pretty important

You sigh softly as you send back a simple ‘O.K.’, then put your phone back. You slide off your stool and and follow Clint through the crowd. Your phone buzzes again, but you decide to ignore it, and instead focus on Clint’s dazzling eyes and contagious smile as he spins and dips you, your heart fluttering with every move.

Tags: @lovelyttom  @vxidnik @winters-beauty @wildefire @c-ly-g @dottirose @lokigodofsasss @ofsouplucia @lovelyttom @emergenciesstory @lyf-2396 @honey-chanel @sebtheromanianprince

[sleepymarmot]

MEA liveblog #5

Spoilers!

Tempest

Aw, you could visit the Remnant VI in Peebee's room and it reacts when you interact!

Peebee has something new about the team! She warmed up to Lexi (nice to hear; maybe she could apologize?). And she's intersted in Jaal (as I've already learned from Gil's notes). Thankfully, Ryder could react just like I did: "Are you trying to make me jealous?" Peebee: "Maybe" Oh, and she made two Observers, one for herself: "The kind of company I can shut down whenever I want without hurting its feelings". I really like how Peebee is bubbly and energetic but still kind of antisocial and very protective of her personal and emotional space.

She reminds me of Leliana more and more. A quirky, competent, nice girl shows up and wants to join the team; she has trust issues because of an older woman who shows up in her personal quest and acts overly familiar and condescending. 

Drack told me a story about accidentally setting himself on fire!

Only Gil's eyes and mouth are moving. That's very creepy. A bug? And where's the option "I'm not here to have babies?" When Gil says that the biological demands suck the emotional option is "I understand" so I thought it'd be "Yeah, I know we should reproduce but I don't want to", but somehow Ryder jumped to "You want children" -- I got the opposite impression from the way Gil started the conversation! Btw in the final right-hand option you can complain about Alec being distant, and have a longer conversation, while the left-hand is a simple "I'm sorry". I kept the short option, though -- don't think my Ryder is that bitter about her dad.

There are topics I haven't seen on the message board!

The more I think about it, the more I feel that the Meridian's entire concept is ruining the game for me. Why bother with individual vaults if the Meridian can activate the entire network at once? Why help people and raise viability when I need to stop the Archon from wiping out the entire cluster? This is just another rush towards the final battle, like every game in the OT.

Multiplayer

Topped the scoreboard for the first time in today's APEX mission as the asari adept!

Tempest

Strike team rewards: Falcon and Ruzad.

Eos

Here's that woman who informs Ryder she's trans

The quest she gives is that Remnant thresher maw, right?

Remnant VI stays and follows you around even when you holster weapons.

The noise it makes is kind of annoying, though.

Peebee and Vetra finally started chatting!

I'm going into the western region that was previously hidden by level 3 radiation. Finally, a road up the mountain!

Finally, some Vanadium!!

Vetra doesn't accept Peebee's apologies. What is she even apologizing for?

Vetra and Peebee confessed that they really like each other!

"Disabling the alarm will call off reinforcements" IF ONLY I COULD FIND IT

Of course there's another ascendant! But now I know what to do. One-shot the orb with Isharay, charge, nova, melee, he puts up shield, dodge back, repeat. Only took two turns.

Eos is 96% now... Only a bit more...

Aaand Eos is 100%! That's a good time to leave it. And to end tonight's session.

Aya

Peebee's drunk conversation: did all casual/nice options, then all colder options. Then did the canon edition: all sympathetic except the one where Peebee complains that the angara have already researched the Remnant. The sympathetic one is just "Don't worry about that", but the other one says the obvious: why did she expect otherwise? Ryder goes on to say the same encouraging things about their unique experiences anyway.

The staging of this scene is bad, pretty much DAO-level. They have this conversation stiffly standing in the middle of a museum?

Tempest

So, Peebee and I... relaxed :D I picked the romantic dialogue option, glad I did -- it was warm but not clingy enough to scare Peebee off, as I feared. (And magically, mom left the room right before this scene happened and returned a minute later... now THAT's lucky!)

Havarl

They repaired the bridge! I was hoping to see this.

Havarl! Scientists everywhere! Going into jungle to scan wild animals for science! Now that's what I like about this game.

"Given the planet's significance to the angara, I think it's proper that we assist but do not place an outpost" See, Addison's good!

Whaaat? I gave Addison a pretty speech about first contact and working together, and it raised viability by 20%?! It's freaking 100% now??? Whoa.

Had to kill a lot of hallirians and a rilcor during the first scan. Second time, with the rilcor, I could approach from above and scan before it attacked. I mean, the fight still triggered, but I could retreat without touching anything.

Damn, now I need to fight! While I was trying to disengage, the eiroch chased and sync-killed me. :( So much for pacifism...

Okay, now I killed the Roekaar and disengaged without killing the beast, even though the quest told me to kill both. Fast-travelled to a forward camp, and then the task changed to find Roekaar research data. So the game probably thinks I killed the eiroch? But just didn't give xp for that. Okay, I don't mind that much.

I refused to tell the monk how to live his life, so he decided not to visit his sister. This might have some unpleasant consequences...

Kadara

So it's just Omega #2? I was expecting something more interesting.

I guess I'll have to choose between the two gangs eventually?

And here's Reyes!

Redid conversation with Sloane to be more diplomatic/productive. First option casual, then tell her my plan, then agree to the deal.

Her voice sounds very familiar...

Oh, that's Indira Varma? Wow.

Conrad Verner's sister... and she's jealous he's "hanging out with famous people"...

"Looks like I'm adding 'detective' to my growing list of titles" You did that a long time ago! This aspect is something I didn't expect from the game at all and really enjoy.

Why are the dances behind bars?! At least there's a turian in addition to an asari... And even male humans.

Of course this place has its own Mordin.

Oh, so that's the planet I liked the most in the "golden worlds" trailer. And it's hurt by low graphics more than anything else. I need to enable AO at least.

We killed this poor dinosaur for no reason except that it was in our way...

There's another one! Let's speed up past it.

A forward station! Nice.

I really miss a killfeed and a scoreboard in sp. I need to know if my abilities are actually effective or not! RN I'm testing Flamethrower and Backlash to choose their next evolutions.

"They were going to eat me" "I know" what?

Yikes, this place

I thought the forward station was on the mountain, but no, it's down there on perfectly nice even ground... Time wasted

Yay, level 30!

Getting into fights on this planet doesn't feel right. Why would I care about these outlaws?

Where's the activator for this stupid south-west monolith?!

"I'm good with... words" Um...

Tempest

I'm just overwhelmed by the meaningless that has drowned the entire plot. Why bother developing these words when I need to chase the Archon?

16 NEW LETTERS!!! SIXTEEN!!! What the hell, game?? How about you spread content out a bit??

Alright, this scene with Peebee was kind of annoying...

I just keep losing enthusiasm for this game...

Multiplayer crashes every time I try to join an APEX mission. Well fuck you too, I'll send a strike team.

Nexus/Hyperion

Some asari prefer male or neutral pronouns, the angara have several.

"Exploration and discovery or first contact with new species?" Uh, both!!

I'll listen to the results and then reload and make decisions

Well, "exploration and discovery" actually means "colonization". First contact it is, then.

"Previous pathfinders" sucks too, they don't even mention anyone but Alec

I feel obligated to give a shout-out to my team, but also everyone works with teams but my partnership with SAM is unique

And you know, other than Bioware's love for false dichotomies giving players the illusion of choice, there's absolutely no need for this! Why wouldn't an information VI be able to include both things?

Okay, so the real reason behind the Initiative wasn't Alec's mysterious plan but someone else's.

Came here to talk to Tann about my personal storyline? -- More like chase a sick woman across several decks and then the entire cluster! How did she manage to go so far in a malfunctioning shuttle...

All roads lead back to Kadara huh

Honestly though, I have no motivation for this planet. My job is to explore new places and make contact with new species. I have no interest in internal affairs of a bunch of thugs. But of course, two perks I want require high viability here...

Also, the Archon/Meridian business sounds monumentally more urgent and important than maxing out planets... But I don't want to go into the endgame underprepared in case it'll be like ME2/ME3.

[survivingjapan]

EPISODE 1 “Holding Reward At Gunpoint” Jonathan (Part 2)

I think our flag is going to win. If we lose, I'm going to fucking shoot somebody, but probably Alex. Who're we kidding? :P

Update: Tommy doesn't like cursing and also will not stop talking to me. Does he remember I'm not on his tribe? Also, Kendall asked me for an India alliance, but I think she forgot that I didn't play India with her... A different Johnny did. I played Soloman Islands, so I was like da fuq. She wants to work close with Alex, and I wouldn't mind working with him either. My only concern is that I get the feeling that Kendall and Alex are kinda like the villains on the heroes tribe, and the good thing about heroes is that I find them to be very naive on many fronts. People like Ashton, Pippa, Isaac; they seem very naive about a few things, and they haven't done super well in games in the past, whereas Alex and Kendall both have great track records, and they know what they're doing, and if those two are working together, it could be dangerous. So far, no one except Steffen and Trace have fully caught my eye as someone who I felt I NEEDED to work with, so that's good. I don't want Steffen and Trace to connect to each other because then they might target the other, or they might grow an even closer bond, and I can't have that. I am the Villain on the heroes tribe. No one is going to be able to stop me in my path of destruction, and once I get a good enough reason to send someone home first, that's probably going to be who it's going to be, because that's normally how I play these games and how things work out for me. I'm spreading myself across for the time being, but I want to go to tribal council and I want to get this game going, so let's get it on. Bring on the immunity results because if we go, I think I've got a few plans in mind to give me more control on this tribe.

Steffen is being dodge and i don't like it. Also, I called Trace hetero and he's muy NOT lmao

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Mdx_w_VViI

Whee I'm already neglecting my confessional!  Sorry for being literal garbage. So, where are we.  Ah, yes, the game is afoot. For reference, the game began on Wednesday, and, y'know, we were in that period where everybody is making small talk, getting to know each other, as you do, y'know.  I think partly that was exascerbated by the fact that to our surprise, the first challenge was a reward challenge so we had time to fuck about. But then Friday, the game began! Kage came to me and said he and Tommy had been talking about an alliance of them, Ashley, and Linus (notice the Myanmar connection, this has not gone unremarked).  Kage didn't want to push for me because we're tryna keep our thing lowkey because it's not a main season so it's harder to find. So instead I go to Linus, ahead of this getting out, and make a deal with him!  Then, when the alliance comes up, he's like “hey we should totes add Alex” and I'm in.  Brilliant plan, flawless, I'm sure he saw through it but it went through anyway. So now that five exists, which is fine.  I'm sure I'm not at the top of, like, Tommy's list, but I'm also trying to keep it so that Kage and Tommy look like the people in charge.  Linus and I agreed that in a game this big, the people on top on day 1 are not gonna be leading things at the end of the game, so I can lay low. Now, in addition to that alliance, I have what I like to call my “side pieces,” which are my one-on-one alliances with Richie, Sarah and Crow.  They're not part of my larger plan yet, but I'm trying to make sure that no matter what people aren't voting against me Day 1.  And, honestly?  Being my side piece is the best possible option.  Just look at history!  I had a side alliance with Max in Bhutan, and he won.  I had a side alliance with Richie in Arabia, and he won! Then there's the four inactives, who are not necessarily inactive but who don't talk to me: Brian, Pat, Jonathan and Junior.  These bitches don't start chats with me.  I don't care about them, and honestly as long as the first vote is one of them, I don't care which it is! Should I make more effort with them? Probably.  Am I gonna? Maybe! Honestly I won't be surprised if we go to this first Tribal.  Our flags suck, creativity challenges are bullshit and I have crap luck with them, and yeah.  But I feel like if we do go, it won't be me that leaves.  Hopefully.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hcznP3_tC4

That thing

Sooooooo we lost. Here's how tonight went down in the span of 25 minutes. Kendall asked me today to work with "India People," and I'm like... da fuq I'm not India but sure, so turns out she's probably got good relationships with Sarah and Ashley on the other tribe, which means when I can break that up I will, but from our tribe it's her and Alex C as a duo. Also as a duo is Drew and Isaac allegedly, because Kendall said that me her Alex, and then Isaac said Drew, should all work together, which makes five of us, and then to make seven, Isaac adds Andrew and Pippa to the fold (big surprise there) to give us the numbers. I am fine with this for now, and maybe one more round after this because Mist is our target this round, and I'm fine with him going, and if I can get my way next round, I can make people scared of Ruthie who has done VERY well in both of her TS performances, and someone who I haven't connected with that well, and don't see myself connecting with too well. So if I can convince Kendall and Isaac that Ruthie is the person we should go after next round, then I'll stick with this majority. My problem after that is that I'm in a group with a bunch of people I don't have SUPER good bonds with. The people I want to work with most in this tribe AS OF RIGHT NOW are Steffen, Trace, Dom and Ashton, who just so happen to be the four people excluded from the alliance of seven, so if this tribe goes down to 11 people and we go to tribal again without a switch, I'm going to hopefully take a stab at Kendall or Alex, whichever people feel most comfortable doing because they are both HUGE threats, but in a game this large, taking out big threats can lead to a downhill spiral because then you might be making yourself more vulnerable as the bigger threat, but if it comes down to Ashton, Trace, Dom or Steffen being targeted, I'm going to have a problem, and I'm most likely going to try to band them together with Andrew and Pippa to break up Isaac/Drew/Kendall/Alex and get one of Kendall or Alex out of the game. My plan could potentially happen a round earlier if they choose that they want to keep Ruthie in the game, but I'm really going to have to work HARD on building that rapport with Andrew and Pippa, so when I need their votes for a move, they'll make it without questioning the decision. It's going to be tough because they're all so close, but I'm not going to let a close ally go down without a fight, and I would easily fight for the four guys that I was talking about, and I hope they're all forming a bond together early on in this game. I'm going to spit a bit of skepticism at Andrew about this group of seven that was formed and see if I can let him think that Pippa, him and I are on the bottom, and the fact of that matter is that we probably are at the bottom, and I'm not trying to be on the bottom for long. This is a game where I need to have an undercover amount of control in my tribe, but I'm afraid that if I take this bit of control, I'm going to be fucking myself over EARLY.

I am honestly so excited to start this game. I love the feeling of going into a Survivor and I haven't done it for a while! I'm so honored to be considered a Hero :P So right now, I'm just so angry that we lost the challenge because I honestly feel like our flag was beautiful. Like you could tell someone worked REALLY hard on it while the other tribe just superimposed their pictures onto a map of Japan and called it a day. But oh well, we're going to tribal! I've talked to everyone at least once, or at least I've initiated conversation with everyone at least once. I just know that I've been gone all day and haven't talked to anyone and that can definitely come off as a red flag going into the vote. I don't want to seem like the inactive player even though that is currently where I am at right now :( I'm moving in to college so I have an excuse! Right now, whenever I send a message like, "Hey I've been gone all day, what's up?" I get a reply agreeing with the sentiment that they really have not been as active themselves. That's kind of reassuring to me because it gives me hope that I'm not just seen as the most inactive on the tribe! But, we'll see tomorrow when the votes flip!

according to my calculations, i must make it to day 28 in order to hit day 100 of tumblr survivor,,, it's a little annoying that it could take at least five tries to get to that milestone (!!!) but here we are. i'm gonna be on a road trip so guess who isn't going to be able to show up for tomorrow's challenge? :) me. i hope it's like, jeopardy or something where only two people need to do it because that'll make my life so much easier. right now i'm kinda just trying to coast under the radar and make it to a point where people actually actively try to strategize? my hopes for the heroes tribal council is that literally one of steffen, drew, alex, kendall, ruthie, or isaac go home. honeslee. no offense to ANY of those players (especially ruthie and isaac) but i just don't really want them here... i talk to andrew a lot from that tribe and sometimes johnny (if he's feeling festive enough to respond), but from my tribe rn my consistents are linus, alex, brian, ashley, junior, crow, kage, and sarah. i think i'm doing well with my tribe. i get along with everyone and brian told me that he wants to make the merge, so i really trust him! i honestly don't see why he's on the villains tribe btw. he's super chill. i owe richie A TON for getting this challenge done. its hard to talk to richie because I THOUGHT that he was like, 42 in tumblr survivor years but really he's 23 and that's not much older than me. i kinda don't want to call him richie because that just sounds so much older than it really is... idk. i don't like his name. even though i'm good with him, i still do not trust junior's ass. he's like the tai trang to my michele fitzgerald. sure, he's nice and smart and everyone likes him, but really he's just a bumbling idiot. and i don't like people who are shoving idols down their pants every second and i know junior is capable of finding those damn things... and he never gives them to me! bastard. pat and jonathan are literally non-existent to me rn. i haven't spoken to either of them... oops. i should probably message jonathan. [11:08:39 PM] jaiden: yikes yikes yikes I just realized we haven't talked yet [11:08:58 PM] jaiden: hi in your intro video I thought you reminded me of Justin timberlake social game 101? not hardly. i'm going to spew garbage memes on his dick and hopefully he'll be my friend. 

btw this survivor ghost island cast leak is so wild... like who names their kid donathan? i guess i shouldn't be talking considering what MY real name is why are there fairies for this confessional background btw

https://youtu.be/eP4C76j_mkw

Soooooo getting added to two alliances really makes it feel like the game is kicking off. We've got the Early 30's McLiance, which is full of people who played in the early 30s of TS, which isn't me, but I'll take a part of that group, it's okay. I can tell they're all really good friends, especially Drew/Isaac/Andrew/Pippa, which is actually okay with me because it will help me take a stab at Alex or Kendall in two rounds after we lose again. I really really want to keep losing so I can take out these people I want to, even though I have good relationships with everyone on the tribe. Then I got added to Cracking Open a Cold One with Trace and Dom because they're the homies (like me). I like them a lot, and I'm trying to convince them to bring Ashton and Steffen in with us, so we can really grab in a strong group of five, and then I'm going to make sure that I get in a tight thing with Pippa and Andrew, because I really want to make moves with them either next round or the round after to take out Ruthie/Kendall/Alex the best I can because they're all VERY dangerous. Mist, on the other hand, doesn't know he's on the wrong end of the vote, and wants to target Isaac, who is someone I really want to keep close, so I ran to Drew and told him that Mist was saying Drew, so now Drew and I are going to go to a mini project to get Isaac's name out of there. Again, I just don't want Isaac to find out I agreed to vote for him, but I had to let Mist think that he was on the right side of the numbers, so he doesn't play a potential idol, but tbh, I'm sure no one has the idol yet, so I think I'm okay on that front. My goal for now is the gather together the people I want, and be prepared to make moves for next round. I think I'm starting to grow into a VERY good position on this tribe and I'm starting to feel like I'm playing survivor now, but unfortunately, it's bye bye time for Mist... :(

On 8/28/17, at 12:37 PM, Johnny (Kuang Si Host) wrote: > yea same. It’s a big group and tough to remember everyone me when I have detailed notes on every single person in this tribe LMAO People legitimately don't see that I'm running the tribe because I'm taking such a back seat in group chats, but everyone wants me involved because they "trust" my vote... like LUL IDIOTS

Hi I'm making a quick confessional; I definitely made a video one in the beginning but I forgot to upload it and I'm leaving soon to audition for American Idol (wish me luck bitches). Anyways, we've got the Early 30s McLiance which I adore and I hope they're truthful. Otherwise I feel like I could get screwed over for losing the challenge. Fingers crossed though!

As far as I know Mist is going tonight but I'm so nervous! I'm waiting until like the last possible minute to vote because I'm scared people will go crazy and people will change their mind and I don't want my vote locked in! I feel bad, Mist is nice but we need a stronger tribe and I think we'll have one without him, he got a strike during the first challenge. I'm honestly just ready to show these villains who's boss, they are going to get a big head if they keep winning things. 

Here I am for my 4th Season of Tumblr Survivor, Heroes vs. Villians 3 and so far I'm loving it. There are so many new faces I get to meet and new people to interact with. Although it's scary that the cast is 26 people like the chances of leaving really early is actually pretty high which is super scary because I wanna make it real far and win again. As for right now the villains tribe is alright, 13 people is a little too large for my liking, I prefer the tribes to be a little smaller but I really don't mind. Initial thoughts on people on Villains Tribe Alex - Seems very unpredictable and dangerous, like I get a vibe from him that he doesn't like me or trust me but it is what it is I suppose, I wouldn't mind if he left early. Ashley - I really like Ashley despite our past history in Myanmar I think she's pretty cool I really hope she doesn't hold any grudges, because I don't hold anything against her I hope she would do the same for me. Brian - I feel like I wouldn't mind working with him because he seems like a nice guy but his boyfriend literally hated my guts in cutthroat island  so I don't know if he'll also feel the same way towards me. Crow - What a lovely bird. Jaiden - Honestly he seems like a good guy, I don't know how trustful I can be of him though cause he can be a little crazy. Jonathan - I played with his best friend Dustin in Cutthroat and Dustin didn't like me either so I hope he doesn't judge a bias against me from his best friend. Junior - Unreliable. I don't trust him at all, he seems to be a crafty player but I might be able to be on his good side for a a few rounds. Kage - I like him he seems cool but I feel like he might be a little crazy. I like crazy. Linus - What a memeo. Patrick - Despite him being inactive I might like Pat the most out of everyone on our tribe. LOL. He seems like a real cool dude, what a nice name too. Richie - I really wanted to work with the other winner but he's being so difficult to make small talk with and I don't know what to do about that. Sarah - We have a mutual good friend in Andreas from Mali aka my first season, I think she's pretty cool. I wanna get to know her better. Honorary Heroes Steffen - I'm trying really hard to smooth things out with him, I wouldn't mind working with him if I feel he's really open to the idea, he's a nice dude. Johnny - WHAT A DUDE! Ashton - He's another memeo. So that's my first confessional for the season and hopefully there are many more to come! :D 

So, I think I'm pretty safe this tribal; I've made an effort to talk to everyone and really put myself out there. But everyone is too afraid to say a name and it's 2 hours to deadline!! I kind of floated Isaac's name to Johnny so I hope that just gets around and that's the move for tonight! I don't think I'm being voted out just because people are still responding to me and not ignoring me! That's a good sign, right??

whew heroes vs villains whatsup im here to win ready to lose lets do this!!! im excited to see alex and ruthie back they were my two closest allies in Arabia and i love them so much but i also did blindside backstab and vote them out despite the fact they were my two closest allies which is probably why im on the villains tribe huh...... anyway theres so many people night 1 i was so overwhelmed and its one world with 26 ppl??? its enough.... i havent had too many conversations with anyone on this tribe ive said my hellos and surface level fluff with like 80% of them but idk im nervous to come in with a strong social game???? idk if its a dumb move to try and come off like a flop at the beginning because im one of 2 winners in this cast but like idk if that holds any weight that could just be my delusions of grandeur probably but im trying to keep a low profile but still not be forgotten or an easy out i hope i'm on the right side of that very narrow line??? i did the flag and we won so i hope that scored me points with the tribe although sarah and i think it was kage did designs and we didnt use them so i worry about coming off as like a ballhog stealing the limelight kinda thing??? idk i need more time with this tribe before i can give any real impressions but as of now theres no tea because i suck and its 71% strategy 29% im just bad at this game and overwhelmed!!!