#so they inevitably run into each other more often than they would like. they try to ignore the fact theyre still kinda connected

[tobiasdrake]

This may not be your wheelhouse, but you always have such good insights into the Dragonball universe.

How would you solve the problem of making a dbz fighting game roster? Every game inevitably runs into the problem of character imbalance, which is antithetical to fighting games.

Goku wins. That what he does, it's the point of the whole franchise. So yeah it might be cool to have Chaiotzu go up against Freeza, but canonically those match ups just don't work, because ~who wins~ has an objective answer. And at this point there are so many versions of the main characters that a roster gets weird real fast. Gohan? Which Gohan? Age 5, 10, 16? You get the idea.

It leaves the games with the problem of trying pretend Raditz can 1v1 Buu as is, or just inventing techniques and transformations whole cloth. Which isn't bad on its own, it's certainly fun to imagine early DB characters leveled up to parity, but then it's basically something entirely new.

Obviously a large question that cant be answered definitively, but I'm really curious to know how you might go about it

Unpopular opinion, but I'm actually pretty cool with Dragon Ball fighting games being unbalanced. But that's because I'm not really into PVP gameplay, so balance isn't super important for me. For how to make a really well balanced fighting game, I'd have to defer to @pushovermediacritic, who knows a lot more than I do about the technical aspects of fighters.

My favorite Dragon Ball fighter is Budokai Tenkaichi 3, and that game was unbalanced as fuck. It's a game in which a well-played Kid Gohan can defeat Omega Shenron, but Omega's statted so much higher than Gohan that you really have to know what you're doing.

I like to use fighting games as a sandbox full of action figures to clicky clack against each other while doing my own storytelling. So for my neurodivergent ass, when it comes to rosters, I'll take quantity over quality. I'd rather have 500 characters who have to share a lot of attacks and movesets between each other than 20 perfectly sculped, entirely unique, properly balanced characters whose attacks are all precisely honed to pixel-perfection.

(Also, Dragon Ball rosters suffer from the fact that female characters are scarce and often obscure in the Dragon Ball series. For a small roster game, you're likely to get like 25 male characters and Android 18. If they have space for two women then Videl. But it's only on the super-huge rosters that you might see inclusions like Chi-Chi, Zangya, Selipa, or Arale. There's just not a lot of fighting women to pick from.

Though Caulifla, Kale, and Kefla are now a thing and are a big enough deal to warrant inclusion in smaller rosters, so that's pretty cool.)

[alexiroflife]

"megumi is annoyed with gojo for getting distracted with you and being late for everything because of it, so he makes it his life’s mission to ruin gojo’s chances of dating you..."

fluff, crack

gojo has a severe issue with constantly following you like a puppy dog wherever you go. after that day he had run into you on a whim at the park, your pretty (e/c) eyes locking with his as you both shared passing glances the moment your shoulders brushed, he was stuck to you. gojo stopped dead in his tracks, calling out to you and asking what your name was. you turned over your shoulder, stuttering to a stop upon realizing that handsome guy had been talking to you. you told him your name, that you attended the university down the block, and he was set.

gojo was sure to secure your number before you parted ways that day, approaching you as interested in friendship rather than someone completely enamored by your beauty and desperate to get to know you more. he would text you every day, from then on, pressing further about your hobbies and inserting himself into your daily routine, which you fortunately did not mind. the two of you end up spending a lot of time together, thoroughly enjoying each other’s presence.

megumi, ten years old, witnesses gojo’s clinginess with you fast because it quickly has an affect on how often gojo fulfills his responsibilities in looking after him. megumi remembers the first time gojo forgot about him because he was distracted by you. he had been meant to purchase and drop of megumi’s weekly groceries, but he ran into you at the supermarket and ended up helping you take your groceries home instead. megumi had to wait three hours for gojo to bring him his next week’s supply of food. things like this continued to happen the longer you to knew each other, but megumi knows it isn’t your fault that gojo is attached to you at the hip and flirts with you shamelessly but won’t muster up the courage to tell you he likes you. 

megumi’s last straw is when he is left stranded outside of his elementary school for forty-five minutes because he ran into you “eating at a cafe by yourself and you needed company.” the ten year old watches gojo pull up slowly with you in the passenger’s seat, waving at him apologetically with a kind smile. his blood boils as gojo smiles, shrugging bashfully and saying he lost track of time. megumi decides with a hastiness that he would ruin every chance gojo takes to flirt with you after the twenty one year old suddenly announces that he is driving twenty minutes opposite of his house to drop you off at your dorm. 

gojo first senses something is off when you are over at megumi’s house one day after school, looking for snacks in the cabinets. gojo and megumi are sitting at the kitchen island while megumi does his homework and gojo watches you move around with a soft smile on his lips, chin propped in his palm. you turn over your shoulder and ask the two if they have any chips, to which megumi beats gojo to answering: “gojo ate them all. he’s always eating everything in my house. i try to get him to stop, but i guess he just gets too hungry.” the white haired man slowly turns to face megumi as you carry on about your business, eyes wide and a mortified smile on his face. megumi doesn’t look at him, continuing his english homework. 

gojo knows he’s being targeted the second time around, when he suggests that you sleep over in his room because it is getting late and megumi advises you not to because he allegedly saw a nonexistent redhead leaving his room last night and is ‘worried about your exposure to lice.’ gojo chases the spikey haired kid around his living room later on after you inevitably go home, threatening to take him back to the zenin clan. 

the day megumi outright proposes that you get a boyfriend during a car ride over to your campus, gojo almost loses control of the steering wheel and decides he has to keep you as far away from megumi as possible. megumi gets his wish when gojo begins to pay more attention to the days he’s supposed to pick him up from school and separates his days with you from them accordingly, but megumi doesn’t plan to let this slide so easily. for weeks, he suffered the aftermath of gojo getting distracted by being your shadow, and for weeks gojo would suffer his karma.

when he hears you on the phone with him, megumi barges in the room and loudly asks to talk to you. you, overhearing, welcome the conversation gladly and ask gojo to hand over the phone while he glares animatedly at the boy’s blank face. he has to wait twenty minutes for megumi to finish talking monotonously about his day into the speaker, and by the time gojo gets his phone back, you have to head to a meeting with your classmates. the call ends and gojo ponders over why his kid is praying so intently over his downfall. 

and of course there are the days when you ask to come over to see gojo and megumi, and gojo is physically incapable of refusing quality time with you or telling you no in any regard. he practically begs megumi on his knees to behave five minutes before you arrive, to which the fushiguro blatantly ignores. the blue eyed sorcerer is fuming with rage as he sits across from you and megumi, watching as you help him with his science project after him asking for your assistance, a stunning, bubbly grin on your face. gojo’s initial frustrations shift into envy for your attention, and before you know it he’s pouting with his arms crossed in silence. 

megumi is satisfied with himself, concluding that gojo is officially fed up and has given up completely on pursuing you. he commends himself mutely for his successes after working so hard, though his actual enjoyment of your tranquil company made the experience more tolerable. he runs off to take a shower when you’re grabbing your belongings, preparing to uber back to your dorm. normally gojo pesters you about letting him drive you home when you’re over, so when he only flashes you a smile and holds the door for you as you walk through, you immediately think something is wrong.

the blue eyed man’s lips press together, eyes blank as he shakes and tells you everything is okay. your eyes slim in suspicion as you look over his face, unconvinced by his horrible lying skills. you ask again and he smiles again, telling you he is fine and to go enjoy the rest of your day without him. you furrow your brows in confusion before realizing that you had been busy with little megumi all day and hardly paid attention to your friend. he’s jealous. you giggle, and find it cute the way his half smile melts and he broods, perplexed by your laughter. 

you tease your friend of a few months, telling him that the next time you hang out, you two will spend the day alone. pink rises to gojo’s cheeks. “you still wanna spend time with me?” he asks and you scoff. “yeah, why wouldn’t i?” “i don’t know, i just thought megumi convinced you not to like me…”

you laugh again, the sound ringing like church bells in his ear. you tell him he’s ridiculous for getting worked up over a ten picking on him and puffs his lips and rolls his eyes. you know there is a mutual attraction shared between you and gojo. you’ve liked him since the second he asked for your number, but never said anything because he limited your relationship to what you assumed ws platonic flirting. now, watching him pout over the thought that megumi pushed you away makes you realize that there may be something real to his attachment to you.

a smug smile lifts to gojo’s face and his mood immediately improves. he tells you he’ll pick you up from your math class tomorrow for a ride, just the two of you. you hum in agreement and lean up to your tiptoes, holding the side of his face with your fingers and pressing a kiss to his cheekbone. “it's a date,” you say. you pull away and his expression is dopey, eyes dazed and grin bright. 

megumi runs back into the living room at the wrong time. he goes to grab his bookbag from the sofa and return it to his room when he catches a glimpse of the horror, his face scrunching in disgust as you peck gojo’s cheek at the front door. megumi turns grim, mourning over his failed plan. oh well, he tried. he wishes you luck dealing with that freak, and figures that the next time gojo annoys him, he can just save himself half the trouble and log him out of the shared netflix account.

you are halfway out the door, smile making your cheeks ache and heart bursting, when you hear megumi shouting from inside. “wash your mouth when you get home, (y/n)! you don’t know where he’s been!” you hear the front door slam and dramatic, muffled complaining follow as you walk to your uber stifling a laugh.

[espace--positif]

Mornings With Him

A collection of husband!Zayne x F!Reader domestic headcanons [Love and Deepspace]

Summary: Mornings are always better shared. Especially with the love of your life. A collection of fluffy snapshots of mornings spent with husband!Zayne. Pairing: Zayne x F!Reader WC: ~2.1K Content tags: Established relationship, Domestic fluff, Fluff, Romance, Mild suggestiveness Read on AO3 // My Masterlist

Ever since you married the love of your life and began living together, your mornings have changed for the better. But things haven’t always been so smooth, on account of a few differences in your lifestyle that made themselves glaringly obvious early on.

For one, Zayne is a morning person, and you’re regrettably not. Not to the extent that he is, anyway. You don’t ever clash on this, but it’s caused some… unforeseen difficulties in the past, especially for your husband.

He’s always been the type of person to be ready a full hour before he has to leave, whereas you’re more likely to be rushing out the door exactly on the dot, if not later. On top of that, he’s also a morning runner. So when he would try to quietly sneak out of bed to begin his rigorous routine every morning and you’d sleepily cling to him, coaxing him back to the warmth of your shared bed with an almost 100% success rate, to the point where he started regularly missing his morning runs, he figured something had to change.

His solution? He’d find a way for the two of you to spend your mornings together, outside of bed.

Thus, he carefully crafts a shared routine for the both of you, easing you into his way of life while easing himself out of the constancy of his own diligence, little by little.

One early morning, as Zayne woefully pulls himself away from your iron grip, he decides to venture towards the kitchen on a mission. He brews two large cups of coffee and returns to your shared bedroom, where he finds you sprawled on his side of the bed, trying to soak up any residual warmth. You lift your gaze, meeting his with sleepy eyes, and he instantly recognizes the look on your face - his betrayal will not be forgiven nor forgotten, especially this early in the morning when you’re less than agreeable on most things. Well, on all things, really.

He sits at the edge of the bed and silently offers a cup — your favorite cup — and you glare for a while before sitting up and grabbing it. It warms your hands, and you start to think about forgiving him for abandoning his duties as your personal heater.

Over the next week, Zayne gradually adds more layers to your shared routine, carving out a space for you in his little tasks. You’ve become less and less insistent on dragging him back to bed by force, knowing that you’ll be rewarded with a delicious coffee delivered straight to you within a few minutes of his departure. Once his peace offering is well received, he wraps your robe around you and takes you by the hand, leading you to sit by the patio window to enjoy your coffee - in the warmer months, you often sit on the porch — and only then does he take the opportunity to complete his run.

There, while listening to birdsong and being caressed by the gentle breeze, you’re thankful for the brief moment of tranquil solitude. Besides, you know that your husband will be back like clockwork, right as you’ve had your last sip. The corners of your lips inevitably tug upwards every time you see him rounding the bend, jogging back to you. It’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time all over again. You stand to meet him halfway through your yard, and he gently kisses your forehead. You wrap your arms around his warm chest, and his embrace feels as comforting as it has ever felt.

You wash your face and brush your teeth while he showers, and vice versa, both of you relishing in the proximity and safety of each others’ presence even while doing something as mundane as getting ready. While you complete the final touches of your routine in the mirror, Zayne works on a simple breakfast. You’ve never been a breakfast person, but after much insistence and lecturing about how it’s the most important meal of the day, you end up caving, graciously accepting anything he offers you in the morning. His prowess at cooking helps too, of course.

Once you’re ready, you sit across from each other at the dining table, where a helping of sometimes egg and toast, sometimes waffles, sometimes fancy greek yogurt, sits waiting for you. There’s often no need for very many words as you share breakfast together. Both of you sit in the solace of each other’s company for a while, comfortable silence occasionally truncated by a comment of yours on how good the food is, or a comment of his on the weather forecast. Eventually, your renewed energy causes conversation to naturally take off, and you end up rambling about mundanities while he listens attentively, as though it’s the most riveting thing in the world.

By the time you’re set to leave, your morning has already brightened, your smile shining brighter than the sun as you offer to tighten your husband’s tie, a ritual he never refuses even though his tie is already in perfect condition. He returns your beaming smile, and finds that his morning has brightened too, more than he ever could have imagined. For a moment, Zayne blissfully contemplates how he would gladly upend his entire mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights, all at once, in exchange for this view.

Not all mornings are so predictable. In fact, some morning are simply a continuation of a long, long night…

Zayne almost thinks his eyes are deceiving him when he sees your hunched-over form lit up by dancing blue light from the TV screen. When he awoke at four in the morning to an empty and cold bed, he assumed that you fell asleep in front of the lawyer drama you were so captivated with, but he didn’t imagine that you’d still be watching.

He gingerly comes down the steps, socks muffling his movement, and you’re so caught up in your show that you don’t hear him coming. He stands there, amused and baffled all at once, taking in the sight of you. Here sits his wife, normally a pinnacle of responsibility, huddled in a blanket with nothing but her face poking out, eyes bleary with tiredness, but burning with fervent focus at whatever ridiculous plotline is surely unfolding before her. He lets out an incredulous chuckle. The TV volume is almost too low to hear and you’re busy squinting at the subtitles; you’re considerate even in your most unreasonable moments.

“Honey,” he says, breaking the almost-silence.

You slowly turn to face him, a serious expression etched on your face.

“I think Jacob’s gonna cheat… with Anna-Maria,” you say gravely, as if the world hangs in balance.

He makes a mental note never to leave you to your own devices in front of these shows, even if you swear up and down you’ll only watch one more episode before you join him in bed. But for now, he figures you’ll need proper closure on whether Jacob truly plans to cheat on his wife with his legal assistant, and though he’s loath to admit, he’s curious himself, as Jacob always struck him as an honest enough man.

So he plops down next to you, reserving his lecture on your late-night escapade for another time. You unfurl yourself from your blanket-cocoon, wrap the blanket around you both, and snuggle up against him, thankful for the added warmth on this chilly winter morning.

You watch two and a half more episodes together, in which the Jacob storyline wraps up neatly with a bow on top - he was majorly guilty, of course. Zayne turns the TV off when all is said and done, and you sit in silence, processing the somewhat unsatisfying end to the plotline.

“Don’t you think he got off too easy?” you look up with half-lidded eyes and ask Zayne with genuine curiosity. At this point, the show has become entirely too real in your sleepy mind, and you seem to suddenly have a big problems with the gaps in realism. “His wife immediately went to ‘let’s try couples therapy’ and not ‘you’re an asshole and I’m divorcing you.’ She even put some of the blame on herself!”

Zayne can’t help but smile at how serious yet unserious you look right now - it’s frankly adorable.

“Well, Jacob seems to have something called plot armor, so that helped to lessen his sentence.”

You chortle at the clever wordplay, lightly tapping your husband on the chest. Lazily reaching over to pick up your phone, you check the time and let out a groan.

“Oh no. It’s almost six.”

“It sure is,” Zayne replies with a resigned smile.

“And now I’ve kept you up too,” you whine. “Ugh, I’m sorry. We should go get ready.”

But just as you’re about to drag yourself away from him, Zayne pulls you back into his chest.

“Call in.” It’s more of a gentle command than a suggestion.

You contemplate his words for a while, and he hopes that the warm comfort he feels right now, your body against snugly glued to his, will entice you to stay right where you are as much as it’s enticing him.

“I do have a lot of sick days saved up…” you ponder out loud. “Okay, fine, but under one condition.”

Zayne tilts his head at you inquisitively. Conditional capitulation being one of your specialties, he presumes you’re going to drag him through another one of these dramas that you enjoy so much, and that he’s grown to enjoy as well since meeting you (though he would never admit it).

“You call in too,” you say with a mischievous smile. “I stole two whole hours of your beauty sleep, and a certain someone once told me that any less than 8 hours is unhealthy. So let’s just stay right here and nap all day.”

Zayne leans over and plants a gentle kiss on your lips. You have a knack for saying exactly what he wants to hear — yet another one of your specialties.

“Deal.”

Even when you’re on vacation, hundreds of miles away from any and all possible responsibilities, Zayne doesn’t seem to have an off button. He’s up at seven thirty in the morning, and despite your countless nagging about how that’s too early, he’ll insist that it’s far later than his usual, and that it’s perfectly reasonable.

He’s seemingly impervious to jet lag - he’ll tell you all about how good sleep hygiene and optimal nap times contribute to mitigate its effects, though you’re convinced your husband must have some kind of genetic or occupational advantage over you.

Your mornings together begin almost two generous hours after he’s begun his own routine. His 6AM runs are replaced with what he calls a leisurely maintenance routine at the hotel gym. Then, he comes back upstairs to quietly shower off while you’re still dozing, but not before scouting the hotel buffet. This is a very crucial part of his plan for the two of you.

Zayne is thoughtful enough to let you sleep in on vacation, completing the rest of his morning routine as silently as possible, knowing how much you both need the time off. However, once his shower is completed, your time is up. By 9AM, the curtains are flying open, room service is already on the way with coffee, and he’s crawling into the bed you’ve now appropriated as your own, gently but firmly coaxing you awake as you try to cover your eyes in vain. You settle for gluing yourself to his body and using him as a makeshift shield against the bright sun filtering through the window.

“Mmh… ‘s too early,” you mumble into his chest. He smells of hotel soap, and hotel soap has never smelled so good.

“It’s nine in the morning, dear. You’ll stay jet lagged the whole time if we don’t fix that schedule of yours.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah - you’ve heard it all before. But staying right there, on soft plush covers, cuddling with your husband in the morning sun sounds like an awfully good deal in exchange for a little bit of jet lag.

“And the buffet closes at 10:30.”

He never tires of the way your entire body perks up at the magic word. You look up at him, blinking remnants of sleep away, and repeat his words, as if they’re too good to be true.

“Buffet?”

“That’s right.”

“What’s the pastry situation?”

Your suddenly stern face and steadfast determination sends a low rumble of laughter through his chest.

“Full spread. Salty and savoury. Heated on demand.”

You gulp.

“And eggs?”

“However you want them. Unlimited toppings and fillings.”

You practically shove him off and commando-roll out of the queen bed, scurrying around the room to start getting ready. Normally your not-so-gracious dismount from your impromptu cuddle session would’ve earned you a cheeky comment, but as he watches you discard your robe on the bathroom floor, then saunter over to your open luggage to find your “buffet-primed clothes”, as you like to call them, your bare curves basking in the sunlight, he finds that he doesn’t mind your enthusiasm at all.

Thank you for reading! I’ve been thinking about domestic Zayne nonstop so of course I had to write about it. He’s so husband-material coded it’s not even funny. I might write something like this again in the future if I think of more scenarios! 💜

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

Update: I currently have ZERO intentions to ever write a second part to this. I have been asked so many times since uploading this originally that I’ve lost count. But I have absolutely no ideas or inspirations for a second part at any point in the near. Or far. Future. It was always meant to be a stand alone like all my one shots are. But tysm for the love <3

[dior-luxury]

could i request yandere hcs for the vice dorm heads?!! since i saw yiy do yandere and im curious ^^

Yandere Dormleaders

( ✧ ) ────── yandere stories . yandere/angst - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dormleaders

- [𝐩:𝐬] Yandere Themes (Obsession, Possessiveness, Emotional Manipulation) . Psychological Manipulation . Implied Isolation/Kidnapping . Mild Horror Elements . Dark Romance . Loss of Autonomy . Mentions of Surveillance/Controlling Behavior . Non-Physical Coercion . Angst and Unhealthy Relationships

Note: Sure, I could totally do that! I haven't written anything yandere in awhile, but this turned out good! (￣▽￣)

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle's obsession with you would be disturbingly proper. He wouldn't immediately spiral into madness; rather, his need to "correct" and "guide" you would bloom slowly, quietly wrapping its thorns around his heart.

You might not even realize it at first — the way he insists you "follow the rules" he writes specifically for you. Small things:

"You must report to me each morning."

"You must sit beside me during tea."

"You must not entertain any suitors without my approval."

He frames it as "for your own good," citing countless examples of how the world is too cruel, how others might taint or mislead you. At first, you might mistake his behavior for being strict or protective. He corrects your habits, scolds you for being careless with your health, forbids you from mingling with those he deems "unsuitable."

But over time, the punishments escalate.

Riddle is not above using his magic to enforce obedience. A single, sharp command — "Off with your head!" — and you’d find yourself paralyzed, dizzy, barely able to resist. He'd smile sweetly afterward, telling you he "only does this because he loves you so very, very much."

Isolation becomes a tool. He arranges your class schedules to match his. He ensures that Heartslabyul students monitor you under the guise of "house unity." Trey and Cater notice the change but say nothing — Riddle is their dorm leader. And besides, you always look so cared for, so properly dressed, so "happy," don’t you?

Behind closed doors, Riddle’s desperation festers. He fears your rejection more than anything. He fears your disobedience. His worst nightmare is you laughing with someone else, choosing someone else.

So he tightens his grip.

In private, he would kneel before you, his gloved hands trembling as they reach for yours.

"I cannot allow you to stray. I cannot endure a world without you by my side. You belong to me. You must understand that, won't you?"

If you try to run?

He has the entire dorm searching for you within minutes. And when he finds you — breathless, furious, terrified — his composure shatters.

Tears burn in his eyes, but his voice is calm, almost eerily so:

"If you do that again, I will make sure you never walk far enough to leave."

And somehow, horrifyingly, he still kisses your forehead afterward. Sweet. Gentle. Terrifying.

Yandere Riddle is a prison made of velvet and roses — a nightmare draped in politeness and ritual. You would forget what true freedom even feels like.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s brand of yandere is predatory — lazy, slow, but terrifyingly inevitable. He doesn't chase. He waits. And you realize too late that he's already set the trap.

At first, you think Leona barely notices you. He's dismissive, gruff, always sleeping. But behind those half-lidded eyes, he's watching. Calculating.

He doesn’t ask for your time; he takes it.

You find yourself summoned to his side often. Tasks, excuses, meaningless errands. He’ll tease you, order you around casually, “Be a good herbivore and fetch me some lunch, yeah?”

You think it's harmless until you realize: he only wants you doing these things.

No one else.

Leona isolates you subtly. Friends who get too close? He humiliates them with cruel, cutting words until they slink away. Teachers who praise you? He sneers, dragging you back to his side afterward, reminding you of who really understands you.

"You're not that special. They don't see it. But I do." "Stay where you belong, little herbivore. Right here. With me."

Jealousy turns him violent.

Smile at another guy? Leona’s hand is clamped around the poor fool’s collar before anyone can blink, growling low and deadly in his throat. He doesn’t always resort to physical fights — most back off when they see the glint in his eyes.

But make no mistake: if someone really threatens to take you away? Leona would not hesitate to use his magic to eliminate the problem.

He’s possessive in a way that feels ancient, animalistic. Sometimes he'll drag you to the gardens of Savanaclaw, sprawling on a sunlit bench, pulling you into his lap lazily — but with a grip that promises you won't leave.

His voice is low, rough, coaxing you like a predator comforting its prey:

"Don't bother struggling. You're mine. You're safer here than anywhere else. You don't need anything outside of me."

Leona demands loyalty. And if he ever suspects you want to leave — truly leave — he'll break you down, piece by piece, until you have no one but him left.

It’s suffocating but disguised as protection: "You think you can survive without me? Pathetic. But... tsk, guess I'll just have to teach you how much you need me."

In the end, you realize the cage isn't physical. It’s emotional.

Because somewhere in your mind, you start to believe it:

There’s no escaping the King of Beasts once he’s claimed you.

Azul Ashengrotto

At first, Azul’s obsession with you would seem almost charming — flattering, even. He’d approach you carefully, calculatingly, hiding his trembling excitement behind a mask of cold professionalism.

He’d offer you small favors first:

A free meal at the Mostro Lounge.

Help with your classes.

A luxurious study room, just for you.

All free of charge, he promises with a dazzling smile — only his eyes, glinting with greedy hunger, betray his true intentions. You don’t realize you’ve been ensnared until it’s too late.

Because when you finally need something serious — help passing an important exam, rescuing a friend from a mess — Azul is there. Waiting.

Contract ready.

“Just a small agreement, my dear. Nothing you can’t handle.”

In exchange?

Your time. Your loyalty. Your company.

He’s careful at first. You spend hours by his side under the excuse of “repaying your debt,” helping with paperwork, entertaining him during long nights at the Lounge. But Azul doesn’t want your labor. He wants your heart, your soul, your everything.

You’ll start noticing the chains tightening around you:

Students whisper behind your back, too afraid of Azul to approach you.

The Lounge employees "casually" follow you wherever you go.

Jade and Floyd are always just a little too close, their smiles sharp and strange.

Azul is subtle in his madness. You’ll never catch him forcing you to stay. He'll smile warmly, adjust his glasses, and say, "If you don't want to spend time with me... well, I suppose there will be some consequences. But it’s your choice, truly."

And then terrible things start happening to those who get too close to you. Scholarships revoked. Projects sabotaged. Rumors spreading like ink in water.

Azul would make sure you realize:

You are safest by his side.

If you ever tried to confront him, he’d sigh, looking genuinely wounded: "I have given you everything. Is it so wrong to expect a little... devotion in return?"

And if you ever tried to leave? Azul wouldn’t fight. He’d simply present the contract you signed, in front of the whole school, revealing the humiliating clauses you never thought he’d enforce.

You’d have no choice but to stay. Chained, legally and emotionally, to the cunning boy whose love for you has long since turned into something monstrous.

At night, he would sometimes whisper into your hair as you sit rigid beside him. "Even if you hate me, even if you curse me... you’ll always be mine, my precious pearl at the bottom of the ocean."

There’s no escape from Azul Ashengrotto. Not without drowning.

Kalim Al-asim

At first glance, Kalim would seem like the least threatening yandere imaginable. Warm, smiling, generous — he showers you with gifts, attention, affection. He genuinely loves you, body and soul, with the purity and enthusiasm of a child.

But that’s what makes him so terrifying.

Kalim doesn't understand boundaries. He doesn’t want to understand.

If you mention something you like in passing, the next day he presents it to you — a mountain of it. You say you’re cold once? He fills your room with dozens of silk blankets. You admire a bird outside? He commissions a golden cage and presents it to you, saying "Now you can keep it forever, just like me and you!"

At first, it’s sweet. Overwhelming, but sweet.

Until you realize Kalim’s kindness comes with invisible chains.

He insists on escorting you everywhere — “For your safety!” He buys out entire cafes so you can have “private dates” without anyone else around. He fills your calendar with lavish parties — but only he is allowed to dance with you, talk with you, look at you.

Kalim doesn’t tolerate sadness from you. If you seem upset, he panics — and smothers you in even more suffocating care, "Are you unhappy? Did I not give you enough? Tell me what to do! I'll do anything, just please smile for me!"

At first, it seems harmless. But if you ever try to assert independence — refuse a gift, decline a party — Kalim breaks down.

Tears streak down his cheeks. His voice shakes.

"Don't you love me? I love you more than anything. I gave you everything! I made everything perfect for you! Why are you trying to leave me?"

His desperation turns dangerous fast.

You’d find that no matter where you went, guards would be stationed outside your door. He’d smile and wave when you see him — acting like everything’s fine — but the locks on the windows would say otherwise.

And if you ever tried to leave the palace-like dorm of Scarabia? You wouldn’t get far. The desert outside is endless. The guards are loyal. And Kalim...

Kalim would run to you, hug you tightly like a drowning man clinging to driftwood, sobbing against your neck:

"Please don’t go! I’ll die without you, I swear! Please, don’t leave me alone!"

And you realize — Kalim’s love isn’t something you can reason with. It’s too pure.

Too bright.

So bright, in fact, that it burns.

You would live your life like a jewel in a locked treasury — polished, adored, loved beyond sanity...

And never, ever free.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil’s yandere nature is refined, elegant, and absolutely merciless. He would never scream or throw tantrums. He would simply reshape the world around you until you only belonged to him.

At first, you think Vil’s attention is flattering. After all, he’s Vil Schoenheit — a celebrity, a prince among commoners, shining brighter than anyone at NRC.

He corrects your posture, critiques your clothes, adjusts your diet — always speaking with soft, lilting authority: "If you're going to stand by my side, you must meet the standard."

You think he’s just trying to help. You’re wrong.

Vil doesn’t want you to be perfect for yourself. He wants you to be perfect for him — a polished jewel, an exquisite reflection of his desires.

Every aspect of you becomes a project under his meticulous control:

What you wear.

Who you associate with.

Even what you say and how you smile.

At first, it's subtle — invitations to exclusive parties where you're glued to Vil’s arm, makeovers disguised as "treats," mysterious disappearances of anyone Vil deems "bad influences." But soon, it escalates.

Vil’s jealousy is cold, like winter glass.

If anyone looks at you for too long, he’ll deal with them socially. A few poisoned words in the right ears, a whisper at the right moment — and your admirer finds themselves humiliated, shamed, utterly destroyed.

Vil won’t yell at you if you defy him. No — he’ll sit you down, pour you tea with a smile, and calmly explain exactly how your "disobedience" makes you look ugly, foolish, and unworthy.

"I chose you. I could have anyone, and yet I chose you. Don't waste my love."

And if you still resist? He uses Vil Schoenheit’s greatest weapon:

Your own self-image.

He'll slowly chip away at your confidence until you can't imagine a life without him.

"No one else could love you the way I do."

"Without me, you'd crumble. Don't embarrass yourself, darling."

There would be no chains, no cages. Instead, Vil locks you inside a gilded mirror, a reflection crafted perfectly to his standards.

And the most terrifying part? Even as tears stream down your face, even as your heart aches for freedom — Vil will kiss your forehead gently and say:

"Shh, my sweet. It's better this way. You belong in beauty — my beauty. Forever."

You'd forget who you once were.

Because in Vil’s world, only he decides who you are allowed to be.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s obsession is deep, feral, and terrifyingly personal. Unlike Vil, who dominates the outer world, Idia traps you inside an invisible, digital web you can’t escape from.

At first, Idia is barely noticeable — just a shut-in, a ghost in the halls, hidden behind his holographic screens. You assume he’s harmless.

But what you don’t realize is:

You caught his attention the moment you acknowledged him.

One glance. One smile. One kind word. That’s all it takes.

Idia’s obsession festers in the shadows. He doesn’t approach you openly — no, he stalks your social media, hacks into your class schedules, plants cameras and tracking devices so tiny you’ll never notice.

In his hidden room, lit only by neon glow, he builds an entire digital shrine to you:

Thousands of photos.

Recordings of your laugh, your footsteps.

Custom programs that simulate conversations with your voice.

He tells himself it's "not that creepy" — that he’s just protecting you. From the outside world. From cruel people. From yourself.

When you speak to him in real life, he stammers, blushes, barely meets your eyes. But behind the screen, he’s a god — controlling everything you see, hear, experience.

Your phone starts acting weird. Messages don't get delivered. Friends drift away after "accidents" they can't explain.

You start feeling isolated — and that's exactly what Idia wants.

When he finally, finally makes his move, it’s not with threats. It’s with desperation.

"You're so lonely, right? It's okay... I'll be your player two. We'll stay together forever in a world where no one can hurt us."

If you reject him?

He doesn't get angry — not at first.

He collapses, weeping, clutching at your sleeve like a child:

"Don't leave me... You're the only real thing I have... If you go, I'll— I'll—"

And then things get worse.

Idia uses every ounce of his intelligence — hacking systems, trapping you inside the campus itself. No transportation. No communication. You are trapped in his perfect, isolated paradise.

When you finally realize the true extent of what he's done — that every door is locked, every path leads back to him — you find him sitting cross-legged on the floor, smiling with tears glittering in his sunken eyes:

"Game over. You belong to me now. Hehe... bad end, but at least we're together, right?"

You can scream.

You can cry.

But in the cold, humming, neon-lit tomb he’s built...

Only Idia can hear you.

Only Idia ever will.

Malleus Draconia

At first, Malleus’s obsession with you would seem almost... innocent.

He's so ancient, so powerful, and yet when he speaks to you, there's a kind of gentle wonder in his voice — like a lonely god marveling at the one star he can still see in the night sky. He doesn’t realize he’s becoming obsessed.

Not consciously.

He simply starts appearing wherever you are:

Strolling silently through your favorite gardens at midnight.

Standing by the windows of your classroom, gazing at you like a spirit unseen by others.

Whispering your name to the wind, letting his magic follow you like a loyal, invisible servant.

You might even feel special at first. Who wouldn’t, under the gaze of the prince of fae, the heir to Briar Valley?

But slowly, things shift. The weather darkens when you’re upset. Animals shy away from you — as if something ancient and predatory looms behind you.

You start to feel watched even when you're alone, even when you lock your door, even when you beg the darkness to leave you in peace.

Malleus is never cruel. He would never raise his voice at you. He would never strike you.

But his love is heavy. It bends the world around you like a star collapsing under its own gravity.

When you speak to others too long, Malleus grows silent. His emerald eyes narrow, his presence becomes chilling. Without lifting a finger, he commands the respect — and fear — of everyone near you.

Soon, others drift away, unwilling to risk the prince’s displeasure.

Malleus would never say, "you can’t leave me." He doesn’t need to.

Because he would reshape reality itself to bind you to him.

If you tried to leave Night Raven College, he would smile sorrowfully and ask, "Why are you running, child of man? There is nowhere in this world my wings cannot reach you."

If you dared to resist, Malleus would never rage. He would mourn.

He would weep thunderstorms into existence, each drop of rain a lament for the love you refuse to return. He would shroud the entire campus in endless twilight, time itself twisting under his grief.

"I do not wish to hurt you. I merely wish to protect you... from loneliness. From pain. From a world that will never love you as I do."

Eventually, Malleus would decide: The world doesn't deserve you.

He would spirit you away — to a palace of thorns and starlight, hidden in the folds of ancient magic. There, days would pass without end, each one a perfect golden cage.

You would be crowned beside him. A consort to the fae. An immortal beloved.

If you cried for your old life, your old friends, your old dreams? Malleus would hold you against his chest, humming a lullaby older than kingdoms, stroking your hair as you sobbed:

"Hush, my treasure. They are nothing now. Only we remain — as it was always meant to be."

Over time, even your memories would blur. The world beyond the palace would become a distant dream. And in the end, you would only remember his voice, his hands, his eyes — and the endless, inescapable love that burned like a black sun in the sky.

Because to Malleus, you are no longer mortal. You are no longer free. You are his.

Now, forever, and beyond the end of the world.

[carlmipololo]

Guess.

Carl Grimes x fem!reader

Smut, oral sex f!receiving, fingering, car sex, semi public(? clothed eating out and all that jazz. Based on Guess by Charli XCX and Billie Eilish.

Sexuality was something you hadn't explored much, but if you knew something it was that girls were definitely your treat, not that guys weren't attractive to you, but there was something way more appealing about women than men to you.

You had told this to your best friend, except you decided not to let him know about the guys, the young Grimes was accepting of you, how could he not be? You were his best friend, but the disappointment was inevitable for him. Everyone knew, everyone except you, who was oblivious to Carl's obvious interest in you, he was pretty hormonal, and you were pretty, oh hell, he'd be lying if he said he didn't think you were the hottest girl around for him. He'd be lying if he said he had never found himself with his hand down his pants after letting his mind linger on the thought of you bending down to pick something up way longer than it should.

Carl was a hormonal mess. And so were you.

Going on runs was something you did pretty often, and while you waited for Rosita, Tara and Eugene in the van Carl and you came up with something to keep yourselves entertained.

"Okay, so, guessing each other's underwear color? Sounds easy." Of course it was easy, Carl would never suggest something he knew he couldn't win easily.

"Yeah, pretty easy, right? Take your guess, ladies first." He says, trying to keep a straight face, to not let his lips curve up in the cocky grin he was holding back, trying not to give himself away.

You hummed while thinking, you had seen the color of the elastic on Carl's boxers before, it couldn't be that hard, right?

"I'll go with grey. Are they grey?"

Carl chuckled as he shakes his head, amused. "Nope, try again."

After your fair share of tries and repeatedly getting it wrong you were done, letting out a frustrated huff, which was just amusing him even more, a big grin plastered on those pretty lips of his, you had to admit, he was hot when he acted this cocky, but he was also annoying.

"Okay Carl, then why don't you guess the color of mine?"

That was all he wanted to hear, he took his time, leaning in closer, his hot breath against your skin as he whispered in your ear. "I don't have to guess the color of your underwear, I saw it as soon as you sat down."

You gasp, your breath stuck in your throat as soon as he says that, his attitude finally making sense, you wanted to be angry, of course you did, but you couldn't help the way his demeanor and closeness was making you hot, you couldn't help the way your panties sticks to your aching pussy as your slickness wets them.

"What color are they then?" Your voice was way shakier than you intended, and Carl was enjoying it, his hands trailing their way up your thighs. Was he being way too impulsive right now? Of course, he knew he was. Were his hormones allowing him to stop and think it through? Hell no.

"Pink lace, quite pretty by the way... I know you like girls but..." His soft lips brush against your ear, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "You know I'd hit it, right?"

His voice is soft and husky as he says that, his hands sneaking under the hem of your shorts, feeling the warm skin, his lips trailing down to your neck, you couldn't help it, you wanted him to keep going, and the way your hands were gripping at his flannel gave it away.

"Carl...?"

He hums softly in response, his lips latched to your neck, soft kisses and occasional suction that drew pretty moans out your lips. "Want me to stop?"

Your head shakes almost frantically, not wanting him to stop at all, his grin widens against your neck as he lets go of your thighs, one of his hands moving your shorts to the side, his fingers finding your clothed clit, rubbing tiny firm circles over it, earning a myriad of moans from you, already sensitive and responsive.

He can't bite back the smirk on his lips as he lets go of your neck, his lips finding yours quickly, his mouth devouring yours, tongues dancing with each other as he slides his fingers under your wet underwear, sliding a finger inside you. Basically devouring every single moan he coaxes out of you, a second finger adding shortly after as he pumps them in and out, his thumb rubbing over your bundle of nerves to add to the feeling even more.

Carl sucks on your tongue gently, breaking the kiss and taking his fingers out as soon as he senses you're getting close, gummy walls clenching around his fingers continuously. "Why did you stop?" Your voice is breathless and shaky, and he loves he's the cause of it, he shows you the two fingers he previously had inside of you, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he licks them clean, drunken by the taste of your juices. "So fuckin' good, I need to taste you for real."

The cowboy quickly makes his way down to your legs, kissing at your thighs and nibbling on them gently as he props your legs open and over his shoulders, wet lips and tiny love bites being imprinted on your inner thighs as he finally faces your clothed pussy, he takes in the scent, so tempting, he's the hardest he's ever been, but he tries brushing it off and focus on you, his hand moving the shorts away, but he leaves you panties in place, admiring the wet patch on them that makes the baby pink fabric slightly translucent, drawing out the outline of your folds.

"M'gonna make you feel good, pretty girl."

His voice is husky as he leans into you, pressing a soft kiss over your clothed clit, making you jolt as a shiver runs down your spine, he holds your hips down with his hands, a low laugh from him rumbling through your folds as he starts making out with your clothed cunt, tongue lapping at the fabric that sticks to you, now wet in your slickness and his spit, the feeling is enough to have you gaping, gasping for air as he pleases you over your clothes, hands reaching for his hair as you watch the windows of the van fog lightly, back arching slightly as your cheeks become reddened and eyes look glazy.

Carl decides to finally give into his own temptation, moving the panties to the side and finally tasting you fully, his tongue tracing a line up your slit before he starts lapping at your wet cunt relentlessly, making your eyes roll back as you tighten your hold on his hair, mumbling sweet nothings into the air as you whimper in a way that makes Carl almost come in his pants as he hears you, loving the way you taste on his mouth.

"C-Carl, I'm close..."

His tongue keeps moving as you say that, sucking gently on your clit, knowing that he wants to make a mess out of you, to make you come undone under his touch in such a way you will never want anyone else to do those things to you, so he quickly inserts his two fingers again, curving them up to search for your G spot, finding it easily as you almost scream the moment he presses on it, shaky hands tugging at his hair, he continues eating you out like it was his last chance to do it ever, enjoying every single second of it as he fingers you, coaxing your walls open each time you tighten around him, knowing you're about to cum in his mouth.

"C'mon pretty girl, come for me."

He whispers and quickly dips his tongue back into your folds, relishing in the feeling of your body squirming and arching under his touch as you finally come hard, a loud moan leaving your lips as you close your eyes, mind completely blank, Carl is quick to drink your juices, the ones he earned with his own mouth and fingers, he gently takes his fingers out of you and fixes your panties and shorts back to normal, smiling at how fucked out you look, so pretty because of him.

"The color of my underwear, the ones you couldn't guess, wanna find out later?"

"Bet."

He smiles at you, leaning in for a quick kiss, making you look presentable again before the others return, sitting back straight again as the rest of the little group gets back inside the van, Tara looks back at you both, smiling, "Did you guys get bored waiting? It took us longer than we thought." Carl shakes his head quickly, a satisfied smirk on his face. "What did you do to entertain yourselves?"

"A little guessing game, it can be way more entertaining than you think."

I'm dead

Tags: @crxssbowcarl @lunarnightt @carlsangel @aurasplanet @herrera2k @hiro--aoki @girlthatsinsane

[foreingersgod]

Softcore . CH

paring: caroline harvey x reader

synopsis: is this love really worth saving? or has it already run its course?

wc: 3.8k

A/N: this came out a lot like "champagne coast" that i wrote for caitlin clark, so if you like fics like this, you should go check that one out as well :)

this one is dedicated to @wnba123! sorry it took so long for me to get to your request queen; hope you like it!

WARNING!!! this fic is angst to comfort/smut!!! this piece will be completely SFW up UNTIL THE DIVIDER. if you do not wish to engage with the smut portion or are a man or a minor. please heed this warning and do not read past the warning line. thank you!

it's exhausting. exhausting to mourn someone who's still alive. who sleeps next to you nearly every night, shares your home, your heart, your soul.

but it feels like she's already left you, at least, in all the ways that matter. her laugh no longer lights the room, her eyes drifting away from yours-off to some reality you can't reach. you talk, but it's nothing more than an empty echo down a hallway. you kiss her, but her lips are cold and rough, like pressing your lips to a memory. you hold her, but you almost feel fuller when you're alone.

you never thought that this is where you'd stand, in a love that's fighting to stay alive. at least not with caroline. but you can feel it, the ember that's begging to be fed, it's there.

you probably should've seen it coming, and you battled yourself every day for it. that you were a fool, and you've been playing that role for much longer than you had realized. letting this sense of unfamiliarity unravel until it pushed both of you to your limits. because how are you supposed to bury a love that's still breathing?

but maybe it wouldn't be hurting this much if it hadn't once been so beautiful.

you met when you were both sixteen-awkward and loud and painfully alive with so much to give. she'd write you love letters, shove them into the crack of your locker. you'd wear her favorite hockey sweatshirt for 2 years straight, well-loved with the scent of her lingering on it even after washing it. you'd sit with each other under the bleachers, the world around you ready to prepare you for it all to end. but you never grew out of it, rather you grew up into it.

college, jobs, your first apartments. then eventually your first apartment together. promise rings that didn't feel rushed-it felt inevitable.

but somewhere between the 9 a.m. meetings and the late-night grocery runs. between the laundry piles and forgotten kisses, something slipped. she'd come home tired, sweaty and frustrated with dreams so big they'd weigh her down. and you'd stay quiet, elbow deep in dirty dishes with a shoulder ready to cry on.

you'd shamefully scroll on your phone during dinner-if you even bothered to sit together anymore-because it was far easier than trying to make mindless small talk. with every 'how was your day', there was a 'fine' and it hurt. you'd sleep facing away. not in anger, just habit. and she'd do the same. every so often a hand would brush against your thigh, a faint apology whispered in your ear when she came home exasperated once again.

but you still love her. always have and always will. you loved her so much that your devotion was merely intensified by her absence. though it's so quiet now-how this love has turned out to be.

she'd used to hold your hand in the car, caress her thumb over yours at painfully long red lights. now her hands stay glued to the steering wheel. she used to trace the letters of your initials on your bare back before bed because she knew the feeling soothed you, now you run your own fingers up and down the length of your arm instead.

you catch yourself staring at her sometimes. just searching. trying to find the young girl you fell in love with all those years ago. the girl you kissed on the football field after sneaking out of junior prom, the girl who ditched class just so she could have lunch with you every day. the girl who once said "i want every version of you, even the ones you don't like".

and maybe she was in there still, rather you knew she was. but is she too far gone to save at this point? because it's easier to pretend nothing's wrong than to admit that it's broken, even if you both know it.

you weren't even trying to start something that night. it was late, a long a grueling thursday. one of those nights where the silence is louder than the TV, the traffic outside your apartment blaring louder than usual. you were folding laundry on the couch, a hamper between your legs as you tossed t-shirt after t-shirt into a stack next to you.

you had been particularly sad that day, waking up without your girlfriend next to you. early practices again, it had seemed. she didn't even bother to tell you. suddenly in that moment, it all came crashing down on you. the weight of the uncertainty ahead of you gripping at your heart. it must've been hours that you cried that morning, uncontrollable and inconsolable. you couldn't stand it anymore.

she had walked into the apartment quietly at around 10 p.m., barely acknowledging your presence on the couch as she locked the door behind her. you could already tell from the way her shoulders slumped and the way her eyes glistened in the lamp light, that she was starting to feel the weight of all this too. or maybe it was just the way she never looked at you anymore-not really.

few words were exchanged as she slipped off her shoes, letting her bag fall to the ground. you offered her a sweet smile as you reminded her that dinner was in the fridge for her. surprisingly, she smiled back and retreated to the kitchen to eat for probably the first time that day. you could see her, from the opening between the living room and the kitchen, that she was picking at her meal, head down and phone in her hands.

you weren't sure what summoned the courage in that moment. could've been fear, could've been exhaustion. but you remember opening your mouth just so slightly, muttering out the vaguest of words.

"we don't talk anymore"

there was a pause, the clanking of silverware on porcelain, the impact of her phone on the countertop. every noise just a little too crisp for your liking.

then, finally looking at you in the eyes for the first time all night, she spoke. "we're talking now"

that did it. flipped the switch in you for good, all the feelings from that morning bubbling up past your throat.

you let out a dry laugh as you dropped the hoodie you had just folded on the coffee table in front of you. back extending from the irritation curling in your spine, you leaned back on the couch with a furrowed look on your face.

"you think this counts? this isn't talking" you huffed, trying not to escalate a situation that hadn't fully begun "this is coexisting, this is pretending"

she stood, with the same composure she held when she arrived home, as she propped herself against the edge of the kitchen island. her arms were crossed, face unreadable, shoulders rolled back.

"what do you want me to say?"

"i want you to say something," you snapped "anything real, truthfully. i want you. i want you to stop looking through me like i'm a ghost"

her voice was tight, and you could see her jaw clench as she bit down harshly on the inside of her cheek "i'm doing my best okay? i-i go to practice, i'm going to classes, and then i'm here. i'm home with you, i'm showing up-"

"no you're not!" you cut in with a raise in your voice, throwing up your arms in disbelief. did she really think that? that she was here, like she had always been and nothing had changed? "you're physically here, yeah, but everything else? your heart, your head? you left months ago and you didn't even tell me"

silence. your voice cracked, a sob pushing at the back of your ribs, spilling past your chapped lips. you breathed deeply as you fought back the tears.

"maybe," she said, softly, arms uncrossing as she ran her hands down her face in defeat "i didn't want to admit it. that something was off, that i was off"

you blinked, tears welling at your lash line, frozen in place "what does that mean?"

you studied her expression, her body language. she looked beat, bags like tattoos underneath her eyes, hair unkempt and disheveled. it wasn't just an end-of-day look of weariness. it was like her soul was slowly shattering.

"i think we're too young" she choked up, regret laced in her tone "i-i think we got caught up in forever you know? before we even figured out who we were. we went from prom to rent, from curfews to car payments. and i don't know-i'm tired"

"tired of what?" you trembled "of me?"

"no. don't twist this. i'm tired of whatever this has been, we both know that. we jumped into life like we had it all figured out at sixteen"

that was it. too young. too soon.

you had danced around that significant detail forever. both of you too afraid to say it out loud, to risk losing what had become your normal, not wanting to lose everything you had built.

"so what, you-" you cleared your throat, finally letting a single tear spill "you think this was a mistake?"

"i think we didn't know what we were giving up," she shook her head, coming over to sit on the couch next to you, the cushion dipping under her weight "i never got to find out who i was without you-and that's not fair to you either"

you felt like your world just came crumbling down, her words like a plague. years of love and passion, absolutely destroyed. how could this be true, how could she possibly believe all this? this may have been what you feared all along; you were the fool who only held her back.

"then go" you said through gritted teeth, shutting your eyes like this would all go away if you wished hard enough "if you want the space-to find yourself or whatever, then go. i'm not going to hold you here"

"that's not what i'm saying" she said desperately. then you felt the pressure, her hand on your upper thigh, giving you a gentle squeeze. igniting that sense of comfort you knew you once had.

"then what are you saying exactly?"

she didn't answer right away. she just looked at you, like she was seeing you for the first time in a long time. caroline watched as you unraveled in front of her, bursting into dreadful tears and worried hiccups. she saw the way you brought a hand up to support your forehead, like the pressure of it all had knocked the wind out of you.

"babe," she said through the tension "i miss you, i miss us. i miss the way we used to look at each other like this was all worth something in the end. now i just feel like this weight dragging you down. i'm so busy with this idea of success, to be the best girlfriend, the best teammate and player...i don't know. i miss not being like this"

you felt your breath catch on what felt like nothing. but you noticed it, the slight shift in the room. nothing was fixed, nothing was healed, but maybe there was a lick of hope that teetered between you. with glossy eyes, you looked over at her and sighed.

"i still see her, you know?" you briefly smiled "that dorky teenage girl who would throw rocks at my bedroom window just so she could say goodnight. that treated me like her entire world even if it may have been too soon, the one who promised she'd never stop loving me. i still see her"

it was her turn to return your smile, her genuine laugh cascading through the room "i think i may have lost her through all the bills and late nights. probably when we stopped kissing each other goodnight"

you swallowed with an ache of motivation in your chest, biting at your lips. her expression mirrored yours, just two lost hearts searching for the right answer. though part of you wished you could pause the moment, scared for what was about to come next. you'd hoped you could soak this in for just another minute, truly memorize the remorse written all over your girlfriend's face.

"i think," you said gently "if we try-really try-we can find her again. same for me, i'm not innocent in any of this. but babe, i-i don't want to lose you. i want to be us again"

she leaned in close to you, hand still resting on your leg, barely an inch between you two. you could feel her breath against your cheek as you leaned back, lips ghosting over hers.

"even if they've changed?" she whispered.

"especially if they have" you said "we're a little lost but...i think we've found the map"

she reached for your hand first-tentative, like it was fragile. then, without a second thought, you placed your hand against her freckled cheek and brought her in closer to you.

finally, after all the silence, she closed the gap between you with a kiss. it wasn't rushed, nor was it cinematic. but it was slow and sweet, careful and desperate. it felt like you had been underwater after all this time, and you were finally getting the chance to breathe again.

it was the kind of kiss that didn't erase the pain but promised to stay through it.

"i don't want to go," she said as she pulled away, resting her forehead on yours "what you said before. i don't want to go be someone else, i wanna stay right here"

it was like she was surrendering. putting her heart on her sleeve to show you this was worth it to her. sure, you may have been young, but you certainly didn't fall out of love. this was your girl, your everything, your absolute soulmate. neither one of you intended to let go anytime soon, even if all you had were promises.

"then don't" you panted, passion taking over your body. you trailed your hands down to her chest, fingers clenching onto the fabric like you might lose her as you pulled her against your lips once more. this time, this kiss had been hungry and pure.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

she groaned quietly into mouth at your sudden sense of boldness. her fingers reached for your hair, tangling in your soft locks. she was grasping onto you with the same urgency. there was no letting go. not after this.

your hands were firm against her torso, fingertips roaming the cotton of her top like you'd never touched such a material. you were drawing her in like gravity had finally kicked in, like your bodies were catching up to what your minds already knew-you weren't done with her yet. you were far from it, in fact. the heat between you was electric, but it wasn't just lust. it was years. it was history and heartache, a collection of the love you and caroline had reveled in since you were in high school.

"are you sure?" she asked, forcing you to look at her. she didn't need to say anything else, the fire building between you made it clear what she was talking about. you nodded, your fingers tracing her cupids bow delicately. even after all this distance, she still wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

her lips moved with purpose, with need, like she was pouring all her apologies and promises into every second. It was a kiss that said don’t ever doubt me again, a kiss that said I’m still here. You responded with the same vulnerability, parting her lips with yours, your hand rising to cradle the back of her neck, keeping her close, grounded.

her hands snaked below the hem of your shirt and spread across your chest, palming your breasts just enough to make you gasp. you hadn't felt her touch you like this in so long-like she actually wanted you, still after all these years. nothing forced, just an incessant need to have you.

and god, you needed to have her too.

"i can't tell you how much i missed this" she muttered against your jaw as you kissed down her neck, tasting the saltiness of her post-practice skin. but oddly it was sweet, something far more intimate than just sex "let me take you to bed?"

with a satisfied hum, you let her assist you off the couch. her hands were still on your waist, lips still grazing that one spot that made you weak. it was a chaotic walk to the bedroom, a mess of exasperated giggles and discarded clothes until the back of your knees met with the edge of your bed.

"please," caroline spoke again threw the heated kisses. you could feel her shudder against you, her skin forming small bumps underneath your fingertips. she reluctantly forced her lips off of yours as she laid you down against the linen sheets, climbing ever so carefully to hover over you "please"

you chuckled, feeling her maneuver down your body, resting her head against your chest. but your laughter soon stopped when you felt wetness fall onto your abdomen.

was she crying?

"baby," you cooed, taking a hold of her chin to motion her to look up at you "please what? what's wrong?"

she glanced up at you with panic in her eyes. tears fell down her flushed cheeks gingerly as she sniffled. you waited patiently for her to answer as you ran your hand along her shoulder to settle her. you couldn't quite explain the look on her face-the way her body felt completely bare against you-but it was the most painful yet calming thing you had ever seen. she looked so unguarded in front of you, ready to lay everything out for you to take. but she had seemed firm, ready to tackle the growth that this relationship desperately needed.

"let me stay," her voice quivered as more tears fell "i'm so sorry. for everything. i don't want to find myself if it means losing you-so please just...let me stay"

"caroline" your heart broke just hearing that sentence, twinging at the thought of her thinking you actually wanted her gone "you're home, you're my home. i don't think i'd survive if you left"

a hard puff billowed from her throat in relief "i'm gonna be better i swear"

"i know," you smiled "we both will"

and then the world around you melted, it was just the two of you in the confinements of your bedroom. caroline didn't waste another second to get her hands on you again, and you weren't complaining. you'd waited forever to feel like this again.

her lips moved towards your navel as she traveled lower and lower down your figure, cherishing every inch of you. you let out a content sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you let your bodies do all the talking. you feared you'd both be crying if you said much else.

the chill air made you shiver, but caroline was quick to warm you as she breathed against your core. you felt needy and hot, almost impatient as she took her time admiring you. reminiscing on these moments where you were splayed out just for her. but you were growing weary the more dottled.

"don't tease" you whined into vacancy.

"m'not" she grinned "i'll give you want you need baby, don't worry. let me take care of you"

always one to give, always one to please. and you loved it. her palms planted against the plushness of your thighs, spreading you even more open than you already were. kisses trailed from the inside of your legs then finally to where you needed her most-whining when she placed a delicate kiss to your needy pussy.

"fuck," you said, one hand instinctively coming up to grasp at your tits, the other flying to the back of her head to keep her in place.

she moaned into you, loving the pressure as she quickened her pace. her tongue glided across your pussy, flattening out to lick a long and slow stripe. you bit at your lip to try and submerse your whimpers, hearing her hum slightly as she flicked her tongue over your clit relentlessly, only making you grasp at her hair tighter.

that did nothing but motivate her, giving her the reassurance she'd been craving since she got you naked. her tongue continued its assault against you despite your quiet pleas and restless movements, her eyes looking up at you like you were sent from the gods themselves.

"fuck, i love you so much" she said, temporarily releasing your clit from between her lips "you have no idea"

your brows raised in anticipation as you felt the pressure build up in your lower stomach, watching her in awe when she buried her face back in between your thighs. your legs began to tremble and your knuckles grew white the closer you got to release.

"i love you too," you blabbered "i love you i love i love you, shit, i'm so close"

"taste so good," she responded, the strokes of her tongue getting sloppier by the second, enticing a short cry out of you.

you jerked forward, back arching off the mattress when you felt her speed up. the wetness that accumulated from your cunt, mixed with that of her mouth was just enough to send you over the edge. she could sense that you were close, letting her tongue prod at your entrance to move in and out of you-exactly what she knew you liked. she remained steady with you, watching you closely as you fucked yourself on her mouth.

"that's it, that's it" you cried, letting your hips buck against her face. your body spasmed as your orgasm began to take over, eyes rolling back from the sensation "fuck i'm gonna come, oh my god"

"there you go, baby" she mumbled into your pussy, absolutely lost in the feeling of you coming undone on her mouth "come for me, i got you"

you let out one last long moan as you relished your high, chest rising and falling to catch your breath. caroline was quick to remove herself from her position, only to hover over you once more for a kiss. your heart was pounding, brain fuzzy and body still twitching.

"you okay?" her voice muffled through the kiss. you nodded, smirking as you felt your taste still on her tongue.

"more than okay," you said. she smiled back before laying down beside you, brushing your messy hair from your face in the process. you allowed yourself to completely envelop yourself around her, limbs tangling with hers loosely.

after a few minutes of silence-your skin on hers, hearts beating in unison, touches wandering-she found the will the speak.

"we're gonna be okay, right?" she said. you breathed, silencing her worry as you rubbed circles with your thumb against her cheekbone.

"yeah, baby" you beamed "we always are"

[rootedinrevisions]

Where the Night Ends

SUMMARY: After an evening in the spotlight, Glen Powell’s biggest night of the year is more than just red carpets and bright lights—it’s a celebration of his career and a test of his resilience. Through the glamour and chaos, you’re by his side, offering him a safe space to share the highs and the inevitable disappointments. In the quiet hours after the applause fades, the two of you find strength in each other, proving that true connection shines brighter than any award.

A/N: This story was inspired by the idea for a story I've had for a while for Glen that even the most charismatic and confident people, like Glen Powell, have quieter, more vulnerable sides they don’t often show the world. While Glen’s charm and upbeat personality make him shine in the public eye, I wanted to imagine what those quiet, intimate moments might look like—the ones where he allows himself to relax and let his guard down with someone he trusts completely. And I thought tonight with the Golden Globes and him not winning would be a perfect way to explore this idea I've had. Also I don't know why but Glen low key gives me golden retriever boyfriend vibes so there's some of that in here as well!

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Your Likes, Comments, and Reblogs mean the world to me and help me continue creating stories like this one.

WARNINGS: Nudity (No Smut, just non-sexual but intimate nudity).

TAGS: In comments.

You glance at your reflection one last time, running your hands down the smooth fabric of your gown. The luxurious satin hugs your body in all the right places, the deep color shimmering subtly under the bathroom light. The rich hue perfectly complements Glen’s sharp, classic black ensemble, and you can't help but imagine how great the two of you will look together tonight. The gold accents on your bracelet catch the light with every movement, adding a hint of warmth to the otherwise cool tones of the dress. It feels like magic—elegant, understated, and yet striking in its own quiet way. The gown pools slightly at your feet, as if it were made for you.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that have settled in the pit of your stomach. This is your first time attending such an event with Glen, despite the time you’ve been together. You won’t be walking the red carpet beside him, and the idea of staying in the background, on the sidelines, makes you both excited and slightly anxious. You're not used to this kind of attention, and tonight, all eyes will be on him.

Before you can let the nerves fully settle in, you hear Glen's voice. His warm, familiar tone breaks through the quiet of the hotel room.

"Damn," he murmurs from the doorway, his voice a little breathless. "I thought the Golden Globes were supposed to be the main event tonight, but now I’m not so sure."

You turn toward him, your heart skipping a beat. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a grin, his velvet jacket catching the light. His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something in them—a mixture of admiration, affection, and something deeper.

He takes a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving yours, and wraps his arms around you from behind. His chest presses into your back, warm and solid, grounding you in the moment. His breath brushes against your ear, soft and gentle.

"You look incredible," he says, voice low and reverent, before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. The warmth of his embrace settles your nerves, and the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding begins to melt away.

His presence is like a balm, soothing your anxieties. You lean back into him, the soft beat of his heart against your back comforting you. It’s a moment of quiet intimacy before the whirlwind of the night begins.

"You sure I’m not going to embarrass you in front of all those cameras?" you tease, glancing back at him with a playful smile.

Glen chuckles softly, tightening his arms around you just a little. "You couldn’t embarrass me if you tried," he murmurs, his voice steady. "Besides I think my mom and dad have the embarrassing moments covered."

You both laugh softly, but the smile that stretches across his face is real—genuine, almost vulnerable in a way that only you get to see. It’s a rare, quiet moment that makes you feel all the more certain of the love you share.

You take a deep breath, your nerves settling as you feel the warmth of his body surrounding you. His embrace is a reminder of the calm you’ve come to rely on in the chaos of this world—his, and now yours.

"Alright, I think it’s time to get going," you say softly, turning slightly to grab your coat from the chair.

Glen kisses your cheek before you both head for the door, his hand brushing yours as you step into the next phase of the night.

You and Glen step out of the hotel room, the cool air of the hallway brushing against your skin as the door clicks shut behind you. Glen’s hand finds yours almost instinctively, the familiar warmth of his touch grounding you once again. You give him a small smile, feeling the shift from the quiet intimacy of the room to the bustle of the world outside.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice warm but laced with a hint of excitement. His eyes twinkle, full of that effortless charm he seems to carry with him no matter where he goes.

"Ready as I’ll ever be," you reply, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is quick, but the silence between you is comfortable. Glen’s thumb brushes lightly against your hand as you both stand side by side, the sound of the elevator music almost drowned out by the rush of adrenaline you both share. Tonight is big—for him, for both of you—but in this moment, it’s just the two of you, sharing a quiet space before the chaos begins.

The elevator dings as it reaches the lobby floor, and you step out into the bright, bustling space. The lobby is abuzz with activity—people in tuxedos and gowns chatting, last-minute preparations happening all around. You spot the entrance to the event area, where a stream of reporters and photographers are lined up, their cameras ready to catch the next big arrival.

Glen’s parents, Cyndy and Glen Sr., are already waiting by the elevators, talking to a few other familiar faces. The moment they see you both, Cyndy’s warm, motherly smile lights up her face.

"There they are!" she says, walking over to give Glen a hug. "Glen, you look so handsome!"

Glen returns her embrace with a chuckle, his broad shoulders relaxing in her hug. "Thanks, Mom. You look amazing, too."

Cyndy pulls back, giving you a quick once-over with approving eyes. "And you, sweetheart, look just breathtaking."

"Thank you," you say, smiling softly, feeling a wave of warmth at her words.

Glen Sr. gives you a small nod of approval before turning his attention to the growing crowd. “Ready to go, son?” he asks, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the bright excitement in the air.

"Yeah, let’s do this," Glen replies, squeezing your hand once more before stepping forward.

As you step toward the doors, the weight of the night becomes palpable, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Glen’s hand slips from yours, but not before he gives it one last, reassuring squeeze. His gaze meets yours for a moment, his eyes soft with affection despite the flurry of activity around you.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a wave of warmth through your body. 

"Stay close to my parents," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, a mixture of affection and quiet command. "I’ll talk to you after the red carpet, okay?"

You nod, the reassurance in his words settling your nerves just slightly. His presence, even in these small moments, brings you an unexpected sense of calm. You watch as he straightens up, giving you a final, comforting smile before turning to head towards the first section of the red carpet. The flashing lights of the cameras immediately focus on him, the buzz of voices rising as they call out his name.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that tonight isn’t about the spotlight on you—it’s about being there for him, supporting him as he steps into this moment.

Before you can fully process the next rush of energy, you feel a light nudge at your elbow. Glen’s dad, with his ever-so-gracious demeanor, offers you his arm. 

"Shall we?" he asks with a warm smile, a glint of pride in his eyes as he looks toward his son, now posing for the cameras ahead.

You slip your arm through his, the two of you walking in step with Glen’s mother beside you. The hum of the red carpet fills the air, the cameras flashing in bursts like strobe lights as people call out names, photographers jockeying for the best shot. It feels surreal, watching Glen move through the chaos so effortlessly, a magnet for attention, while you remain just behind him, tucked safely in the background.

The red carpet is a world of its own—a whirlwind of lights, flashing cameras, and excited chatter. You stand a few feet behind Glen, walking with his parents as you watch him effortlessly navigate the chaos. From the moment he steps onto the carpet, he’s in his element, greeting reporters, posing for the cameras, and smiling with a confidence that seems almost innate.

He moves with such ease, each step deliberate, his velvet jacket catching the light with every turn. The photographers call out his name, the clicks of the cameras almost deafening, but Glen is unfazed. He’s a natural—tilting his head slightly, flashing that signature smile that’s made him a favorite among fans and critics alike. Each pose is perfectly executed, like he’s done this a thousand times, and yet you know it’s all real, all part of the moment.

Glen interacts with the reporters as though they’re old friends. He laughs at their jokes, asks how their evening is going, and never misses a beat. It’s impossible not to feel proud as you watch him—this man you love, who has worked so hard to get to this point in his career, now being recognized for his talents. The genuine warmth in his smile, the way he listens to each person, makes them feel like they’re the only one in the room.

You catch snippets of conversations, little flashes of Glen’s humor and grace as he talks to the interviewers. “It’s an honor just to be here with such incredible talent,” he says to one, giving a humble but genuine answer that makes the reporter smile brightly. The cameras click furiously as he poses once more, a wink in your direction as if he’s sharing a private joke with you amidst all the attention.

He walks past you briefly, pausing to stop and chat with one of the other nominees. The other actor greets him warmly, their handshake firm and friendly. Glen’s laughter rings out, the two of them talking animatedly. It’s clear they’re both enjoying the interaction, and you feel a swell of pride as you watch him effortlessly charm everyone around him.

As Glen continues walking down the carpet, interacting with other actors and actresses, you steal quick glances at him, noticing the way his eyes flicker toward you, checking in even amidst the chaos. Every so often, he pauses—just for a moment—and looks back to where you’re standing with his parents, catching your gaze in a fleeting moment of connection.

It happens once when he’s posing for a photographer. He turns just enough to meet your eyes, his smile softening, just for you. Then, as he moves toward the next group of reporters, he sends a quick wink your way—casual but filled with meaning.

As he’s walking towards the interview section, he reaches out briefly, brushing his hand against yours. It’s so subtle, so quick, but the warmth of it lingers, making your heart skip a beat. You smile to yourself, feeling like you’re the only one in the crowd who understands the quiet moments between the flashes.

Every now and then, he checks in with his parents, his dad offering a gentle nod or a pat on the back, and his mom giving him a quick hug, congratulating him on the moment. As he walks past you again, he places his hand lightly on your lower back, the touch firm but gentle, like a silent reassurance. He leans in, his voice low but carrying just enough for you to hear, “I’m almost done, I promise.” You smile softly, nodding, grateful for the little check-ins.

With each moment, you feel more in awe of him—his ability to navigate this world with such grace, his kindness, and his generosity toward everyone he meets. You’ve always known how hard he’s worked for this, but seeing him shine like this, being recognized for his talent, makes your heart swell with pride. The man standing before you, talking to the crowd, was once just a guy with a dream—and now, he’s living it.

As Glen steps off the red carpet, the flurry of flashing cameras and excited shouts start to fade away. The soft hum of conversation inside the venue fills the air, and for a brief moment, you feel like the world slows down. You catch his eye just as he spots you standing at the edge of the carpet, watching him. His smile lights up his face—genuine and warm—and your heart flutters just a little bit at the sight of it.

Without a second thought, Glen strides over to you, his presence commanding yet soft, as though the spotlight of the red carpet hasn’t followed him. He leans in, pressing a quick, simple kiss to your lips—one that might be so brief to anyone watching that they’d miss it, but to you, it feels like a promise. It’s the kind of kiss that lingers just enough to remind you that you’re still in his thoughts, even in the whirlwind of the evening.

Pulling back, Glen smiles at you, his eyes soft but intense. Without missing a beat, he reaches down and takes your hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the midst of everything. His parents, ever gracious, follow behind as Glen begins to lead you into the venue.

As you step inside, the atmosphere changes. The venue is filled with a sea of familiar, and very recognizable, faces. A sea of stars, each more dazzling than the last. You glance around, and your nerves spike just a little—this is the world Glen belongs to, and even though you’re used to being by his side, it feels a little more overwhelming now. The glitzy chandeliers above, the hum of voices, the clicking of glasses... all of it is a far cry from the quieter, more intimate moments you’ve shared together.

Instinctively, you bring your free hand up and curl it around Glen’s arm, drawing just a little closer to him. It’s subtle, a small gesture, but it makes you feel grounded in a room full of people you don’t quite know. Glen notices immediately, his eyes flicking down to you as if checking in to see how you're holding up.

“You alright?” he murmurs under his breath, his voice low but caring.

You give him a small smile, nodding, but he can tell there’s a flicker of nervousness in your eyes. Glen squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, reassuring rhythm. 

“We’ve got this,” he says with a quiet confidence that you know is meant as much for you as it is for himself.

His smile is enough to settle your nerves, if only for a moment. You take a deep breath, and as the two of you move further into the room, the sight of the grand tables, the gleaming crystal glasses, and the fancy place settings begin to feel more familiar. Glen leads you with an easy grace, guiding you toward your assigned table with a worker who’s waiting to escort you.

The worker gestures toward your seats, and Glen holds out his hand as you approach. With a flourish, he pulls your chair out for you, a small yet thoughtful gesture that makes you feel like the most important person in the room. You smile at him, grateful for his quiet care in a setting that could easily feel overwhelming.

As you sit down, Glen takes the seat beside you, his presence as steady and comforting as it has always been. He straightens his jacket and settles into his seat, and for the first time in hours, the two of you share a quiet moment, just the two of you. The world outside might be full of glamour, fame, and recognition, but here, in this little bubble you’ve found together, it’s just Glen—being the perfect gentleman, just as he always is.

The award show begins with a grand flourish. The host steps onto the stage, the lights dimming just slightly as the audience settles into their seats. You glance around, taking in the bustling room—famous actors, actresses, and directors sitting nearby, the whispers of excitement as the event officially kicks off.

Glen’s hand rests lightly on the back of your chair. The touch is small, but it anchors you in the midst of all the grandeur surrounding you. Without thinking, you lean into him just slightly, your head tipping toward his. The warmth of his body is a comfort, grounding you as the opening monologue begins.

The host captures the crowd’s attention with a series of jokes, and the sound of laughter ripples across the room. Glen smiles at the moment, but his attention is mostly on you. Every now and then, his fingers gently tap the back of your chair as if offering his quiet reassurance. You can feel his eyes on you, checking in with a glance when he thinks you’re not looking, making sure you’re comfortable in your seat.

The first few awards pass by quickly, the names of the nominees and winners announced with the usual anticipation, but you can feel the clock ticking in your mind, each passing moment heightening the tension in your chest. Glen is nominated for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture—Musical or Comedy, and the weight of the moment is starting to sink in.

You can feel your nerves rising with each passing category. With each announcement, the tightness in your chest grows as you anxiously glance down at your program, running your fingers over the pages in a distracted rhythm. Every now and then, Glen’s hand brushes against yours, either adjusting his position or offering an unspoken gesture of comfort. When his fingers meet yours, it’s as if the connection between you both is the only thing that grounds you amidst the flashing lights and the build-up.

The host’s voice rings out again, announcing the next presenters. You force yourself to take a slow breath, trying to calm the flutter of nerves that’s started to settle deep in your stomach. You can’t help but glance up at Glen, who, despite the chaos and the nerves building up inside him, is still looking at you with that same steady calmness. His eyes meet yours, soft but intense, and he gives you a small, quiet smile.

“You good?” he asks under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of the audience.

You nod, though you’re not sure if you believe it yourself. “Yeah, just a little anxious,” you admit quietly, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your program.

Glen gives you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder and leans in closer. “You’re doing great,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “Remember I’m right here.”

His voice is a steady comfort, and for a moment, you let yourself relax into it, but the closer you get to the moment of the award announcement, the harder it is to ignore the nerves prickling in your chest. You try not to let it show, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that your whole body seems to tense with every name called.

The tension is almost unbearable as the next award category is announced. You can feel your heart beating faster as the presenter walks to the podium, the lights dimming slightly on the stage as the camera pans over the audience. You glance at Glen, your hand still lightly resting on his knee, both of you anxiously waiting for the moment to unfold.

The announcer opens the envelope, a brief pause lingering in the air, and then the name is spoken.

“Sebastian Stan.”

The name hit you like a soft punch to the gut. You’d been hoping, praying that Glen’s name would be called. But it’s not.

You exhale, the breath you’d been holding escaping in a slow, almost deflated sigh as the applause fills the room. Everyone around you begins clapping, but you feel a heavy weight settle in the pit of your stomach. You try to join in, your hands moving in sync with the crowd, but it feels automatic, hollow.

Glen’s gaze shifts downward as he claps politely, a professional smile plastered on his face. The joy that had been there moments ago, when he’d been watching others celebrate, is now gone. You notice the subtle slump of his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens just slightly. It’s so faint, but you see it—his disappointment, quiet and swift.

Without hesitation, you place a gentle hand on his knee, your fingers curling softly around the fabric of his suit. It’s a quiet gesture, one that says everything without words.

Leaning in closer, you whisper just for him. “I’m still so proud of you,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “This doesn’t change anything. You’ve had an incredible year.”

His eyes flicker to you for a moment, and though his smile is still warm, there’s a shadow of something behind it. He nods, as if trying to convince himself. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, voice carrying the faintest hint of regret. “It’s all right.”

The cameras still hover near your table, and Glen turns slightly, giving his trademark charm for the audience, though you can see the subtle strain in the movement. It’s a mask, and you know it.

But then, just as quickly as the moment of disappointment had settled in, he shrugs it off, the professional smile back in place. He straightens his shoulders and waves at the camera as if nothing’s wrong.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, your thumb brushing gently against the back of his hand, offering him one more piece of quiet support. “You’ve worked so hard. This is just the beginning.”

Glen looks at you, his eyes softening, and he offers a genuine, albeit faint, smile. “I know. It’s just... I’ve wanted this for so long.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and in that instant, you both share a fleeting connection—one of understanding, of being on the same page. You see past the façade, knowing the true weight of his disappointment.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of applause, speeches, and glimmering smiles, but the air feels different now. Glen seems to slip back into his polished, charming self, laughing with others and posing for photos as if nothing had happened. But you know him too well. Every now and then, when the laughter dies down or when the lights shift in a way that makes everything feel softer, you catch glimpses of that quiet vulnerability he’s tried to hide.

You continue to offer him your presence, your unwavering support. Your hand resting on the top of his hand which rests on his thigh, fingers gently tracing the skin on the back of his hand during the dull moments between awards. You don’t need to say anything—he knows you’re there. And though he’s the one in the spotlight, it’s in these moments when you share the unspoken strength that makes you feel so connected.

The show drags on, the anticipation building as the categories shift, and eventually, the evening winds down to its final moments. You barely notice the presenter’s voice over the soft murmur of your own thoughts, a quiet hum of gratitude settling in your chest. Glen may not have won tonight, but you know—this isn’t the end for him. Not even close.

When the final award is presented, everyone stands in applause, their excitement contagious, but you find yourself leaning back into the comfort of the moment. Glen’s hand, warm and steady on your back, guides you as you both move toward the exit, his parents trailing behind you.

You glance over at him—his face now a perfect mask of grace and poise. His earlier disappointment seems to have faded into the evening's glow. And though you know it might still sting for him later, for now, you’re here. Together. And that’s all that matters.

After the award show ends, Glen gives you a small, reassuring smile as you both make your way toward his parents, who are chatting with a few other guests near the exit. You and Glen share a brief exchange of looks—silent understanding passing between you before you approach them.

“Well, I think it’s time to say goodnight,” Glen says, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of exhaustion as he hugs his mom first, then his dad.

You follow his lead, offering a warm hug to Cyndy and Glen Sr., both of whom have been incredibly supportive all night. You exchange a few words, with his mom offering you a knowing smile and his dad patting Glen on the back, offering him a quiet “You did good, son. We're proud of you.”

Once the goodbyes are said, Glen takes your hand, leading you away from his parents to a quieter corner.

“Let’s get this night wrapped up,” he says with a grin, pulling you gently toward the after-party.

The after-party is lively but not too overbearing. The usual crowd of actors, producers, and influencers circulate the room, laughing and enjoying the last moments of the night. Glen and you share a few casual conversations with some of his industry friends, but the two of you stay close, mostly content in each other's presence.

You don’t stay long. Glen’s energy is starting to dip, and you can see the weight of the night catching up to him. When he whispers that he’s ready to leave, you’re more than ready to head back to the hotel as well.

As the elevator doors close behind you, the sounds of the bustling venue fade, replaced by the soft hum of the ride up. You catch Glen glancing at you from the corner of your eye, a soft smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“You were great tonight,” you say quietly, your voice a soft reassurance.

He shrugs, but the smile never fades. “It’s just part of the job.”

As you and Glen exit the elevator, the hallway feels quieter, almost like a contrast to the energy of the evening. The weight of the night—of the red carpet, the award show, the after-party—seems to melt away as you make your way down the hall toward your hotel room.

Glen’s hand is warm around yours, but you can feel the slight tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion settling in now that the cameras are no longer flashing and the attention is no longer on him. His smile, though still present, is more tired than it had been earlier. You can tell he’s ready to unwind, just the two of you.

Reaching the door, Glen digs into his pocket for the room key, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway. As the door swings open, the familiar scent of the room hits you—slightly musty, but comforting, like the feeling of stepping back into a private space after a long, public day.

He holds the door open for you, letting you walk in first, before following closely behind. The room is dimly lit, the night sky outside casting a soft glow through the windows. You drop your clutch on the bed, watching as Glen kicks off his shoes with a tired sigh.

You turn to face him, standing there for a moment, both of you silently taking in the quiet that fills the room. Glen moves toward you, his hands finding yours, pulling you gently toward him.

“I’m glad you were here tonight,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

You smile up at him, the flicker of pride you feel for him still alive in your chest. “I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”

Glen’s lips quirk into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, he steps closer, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, as if silently thanking you for being his anchor. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply like he’s finally allowing himself to relax fully. The warmth of his breath against your temple sends a shiver through you.

Then, he lifts his head and looks at you, his hazel eyes holding something deeper. He reaches up, tilting your chin with his thumb and forefinger so you meet his gaze fully.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid you’ll say no.

Your chest tightens at his vulnerability, and you smile softly, shaking your head.

“Of course,” you whisper. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping in your own room anyway.

His shoulders relax slightly at your answer, and his lips curve into a grateful smile. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering at your temple.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice still low, intimate. “Let’s take a shower.”

You nod, letting him guide you toward the bathroom. The sound of the water turning on fills the space as Glen leans over to adjust the temperature. Steam begins to curl in the air, softening the edges of the brightly lit room.

Turning back to you, Glen steps closer, his hands finding your waist. His velvet jacket is the first to go. You reach up, your fingers brushing against his shoulders as you slide it off. It drops to the floor in a heap, revealing his silk shirt underneath. Slowly, your hands move to the buttons, undoing each one with care.

As you work, Glen leans down, pressing soft kisses along your lips, jawline and down your neck. The gentle scrape of his stubble against your skin sends a shiver through you, but the moment isn’t rushed. It’s deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of closeness he missed earlier.

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to touch you all night,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You pause for a moment, your hands resting on his chest, and look up at him with a small smile. “I think I might have an idea,” you tease softly, earning a quiet laugh from him.

Once you’ve finished unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugs it off in one smooth motion, letting it pool on the cool tiled floor beside his jacket. Then, his hands find your hips, and he gently spins you around. His fingers trace the line of the zipper on your dress, slowly sliding it down. The fabric loosens, slipping over your hips and down your body until it gathers at your feet.

Glen wraps his arms around your bare midsection, pulling you back against his chest. He presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, before moving to press another kiss to your neck. “I love you.”

Your breath catches at his words, and you rest your hands over his where they’re wrapped around you.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

After a moment, he releases you, stepping back so you can both finish undressing. Once you’re both bare, Glen takes your hand in his, his fingers intertwining with yours, and leads you into the shower. The warm water cascades over your skin, washing away the remnants of the long evening.

Inside the glass enclosure, it’s just the two of you, cocooned in the sound of the rushing water and the heat that envelopes you both. Glen reaches for the shampoo, lathering it in his hands before gently running them through the strands of your hair. His touch is slow and deliberate.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur as he works the product into your scalp further.

He pauses, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looks at you. “Not even close,” he replies softly.

You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes hold yours for a long moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to show you how much you mean to me.”

Your throat tightens at his words, and you reach up, brushing a damp strand of hair out of his face. “You already do,” you whisper.

For the rest of the shower, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, intimate exchange of touch and unspoken promises. By the time you step out and wrap yourselves in the plush hotel robes, the connection between you somehow feels even stronger, solidified by the quiet moments you’ve shared.

Steam still lingers in the air as the two of you step out of the bathroom, freshly showered and relaxed. You pad over to your suitcase, rifling through it for something to wear, but instead of choosing one of your own shirts, you make your way to Glen’s bag. Pulling out one of his well-worn t-shirts, you slip it over your head, the familiar scent of him enveloping you. You pair it with your favorite underwear and turn to see Glen already pulling on a pair of black boxers, his hair still damp and curling slightly at the edges.

He glances at you and his lips curve into a small, tired smile. “Looks better on you,” he murmurs, nodding toward his shirt. You roll your eyes playfully but can’t help the warmth that blooms in your chest. 

The two of you crawl onto the plush mattress, settling in side by side. The headboard provides a comfortable backrest as Glen grabs the remote and flicks on the TV, aimlessly scrolling through channels. The faint glow of the screen fills the otherwise dimly lit room, but neither of you are paying much attention to what’s on.

A comfortable silence settles between you, the kind that only comes with familiarity. Without a word, Glen shifts, leaning over to lay his head on your lap. His strong arms wrap loosely around your waist, anchoring himself to you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. He exhales deeply, his breath warm against your leg, and you feel the tension in his body begin to melt away.

Instinctively, your fingers find their way to his hair, gently combing through the damp strands. He sighs at the touch, the sound soft and vulnerable, and it makes your chest tighten. You know Glen is always composed in public, but here, in the quiet of the hotel room, he lets his guard down.

For a while, he doesn’t say anything, just holds onto you like he needs the connection to keep himself steady. You can feel the weight of the evening still lingering in the air between you, though. It’s not just physical exhaustion; it’s the emotional toll of the night—the highs and lows, the constant smiling, the conversations that required too much energy.

Finally, Glen breaks the silence, his voice low and raw. “It was a lot, you know?” he murmurs, his face still pressed against your lap. “The whole day… the prep, the red carpet, the cameras… smiling so much my face hurt. And then sitting there, waiting for them to call my name.”

You hum softly in acknowledgment, your fingers never faltering in their soothing motions through his hair. “It’s okay to feel disappointed, you know. You worked so hard. Anyone would feel the same.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

“It’s not even about winning,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think… I think it’s just everything leading up to it. The expectations, the pressure. And then when they didn’t call my name, it was like all of that hit me at once.”

You glance down at him, his face partially hidden in the soft fabric of your borrowed t-shirt.

“It’s okay to feel this way, Glen,” you say softly, your voice full of reassurance. “You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

He shifts slightly, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he buries his face back against you.

“I just hate feeling like I let everyone down. My parents, the team that worked on this movie with me…” His voice trails off, and you can feel the vulnerability in his words.

“You didn’t let anyone down,” you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “Your parents are proud of you. I’m proud of you. I know Richard and Adria and the rest of the team that worked on this are proud of you too. Being nominated is a huge accomplishment, and everyone knows how much work you put into this.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel him relax a little more against you. Your fingers continue their rhythmic motion through his hair, and the tension in his body seems to dissolve with every gentle stroke. The room is quiet except for the soft murmur of the TV in the background and the even sound of his breathing.

“You make everything better,” he finally whispers, his voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

You smile softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Glen doesn’t say anything else, but his arms tighten around you, holding you close like you’re his anchor in the storm. And in that moment, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—right here, grounding him when he needs it most.

[love-quinn]

— CALL TIME

summary — a games shoot with your boyfriend mid-fight isn’t something that’s particularly appealing. but, in an effort to keep up appearances, you inadvertently find out the reason you’re fighting.

warnings — none

pairing — spencer agnew x fem!reader

pronouns — none (you/yours), reader is referred to explicitly as spencer’s girlfriend

featuring — spencer agnew, shayne topp, angela giarratana, courtney miller, alex tran, kortney luby (mentioned)

word count — 3.4k

note — honestly still trying to figure out what i’m doing here, but i guess i write for smosh now?? i hope you enjoy anyway <33

Shoot weeks were always stressful. They resulted in 12 hour days, sometimes you had multiple shoots back to back and you didn’t get a break. A lot of the time, you’d scarf down Uber Eats at your desk while looking over two different scripts, four emails and the shoot schedule and realising that you’re probably not going to get a whole lot of sleep that night.

Your boyfriend was in the same boat, though. Not only was he often on camera, he was also directing all of the smosh games productions. A lot of the time while you were devouring a subway over your desk, Spencer was right there beside you, the two of you chatting idly about whether or not either of you thought that you would have the time or the energy to see each other outside of work that week.

The two of you had been dating privately for a little over a year, everyone at the office knew but you hadn’t announced anything publicly yet. Neither of you had any interest in it, to be perfectly honest. Your audience knew the two of you were close, you’d occasionally post photos of the two of you out at dinner together or at the movies or something, plus you’d run into fans quite a few times. But also, Spencer hung out in public more with Alex than he did with you, so people didn’t tend to take it to a romantic place.

During lunch on the Thursday of a shoot week would usually involve the two of you sitting tiredly in the open office area, your head on his shoulder while he showed you a video of something. You relished any opportunity to spend time together during shoot weeks, because you both really would just leave work, pass out and then go back to work.

This particular Thursday, though, you were alone at your table. Not alone, Shayne and Angela were there, the three of you engaged in random chatter. People filed in and out, working crew trying to eat quickly so they could get back to their spot on set and prepare for the next shoot, crew that wasn’t working sets that day still having a lot to get done behind the scenes. A few people had come and left your table but none of them touched the seat beside yours, knowing that Spencer would inevitably arrive and want to sit beside you.

He wasn’t coming, though, and you knew that.

You and Spencer both really valued communication, and you were normally really good at it. But with how exhausted you both were, neither of you had the energy to have an argument lately. You’d gone two full days without speaking unless completely necessary. Your last text from him had been from the morning earlier; We need two, not one. It had been about batteries, you’d been sent on a run to the supply closet for an extra one.

You hadn’t even been aware of how it started. One night he’d been kissing your temple in the parking lot, preparing to go back to his apartment while you went back to yours and the next morning you barely spoke.

You couldn’t even corner him about it at work. You’d tried to approach him in the kitchen, assuming he’d just been too busy to text you or stop by your desk like he usually did in the mornings. “You okay?” You’d asked him gently, hand on his arm gently.

He’d given you a pinched smile, “Yeah, babe.” He turned back to the fridge, shutting it stiffly. “I gotta go, call time’s in ten and I need to talk to Alex about the Games video we shot last night.”

You’d stood there in the office kitchen as he walked away. He didn’t approach you the rest of the day, but you had been on the same set for a few hours.

No text that night, no kiss in the parking lot as you parted ways, not even a dumb tweet he thought you’d like. Hell, he hadn’t even messaged you on Slack.

Shayne watched you eat with his eyebrows raised. “You okay? You’ve been quiet all morning.”

You looked up to see both Shayne and Angela looking at you. You hadn’t even realised the conversation had dropped off. “Oh, uh.” You shook your head, more at yourself than at them. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just one of those weeks, y’know.”

“It’s almost over,” Angela rubbed your arm sympathetically. “Just today and tomorrow and then it’s the weekend. Do you have much on this afternoon?”

You had to pull out your phone to check your schedule. You had two more shoots for the day but they were spread out so you were still gonna be at work for quite a while. Maybe you could take a nap in the green room between shows. “Yeah, I’m doing You Posted That? and then we’re playing whatever game or something tonight.” You rubbed your eyes.

“Hey, tomorrow you only have TNTL and then reddit,” Shayne said encouragingly. “Early afternoon. Go home and get some rest, you look rough, dude.” It was all said with love, so you just grimaced up at him.

“Okay, can I tell you guys something in confidence?”

Both of them immediately nodded, abandoning their forks.

“I think Spencer’s avoiding me,” you admitted softly.

Shayne and Angela were probably two of your closest working friends. The three of you often sat in the back of groups and giggled together like you were ten. When you’d first started working at Smosh, you’d been somewhat awkward around your castmates when you weren’t filming. You guys made each other laugh but you weren’t sure whether or not they actually liked you or if they just laughed along with you on camera to avoid awkwardness. That hadn’t lasted long, though, and now you felt like you could actually have serious conversations with people.

“I was wondering why he wasn’t here,” Angela admitted. “Usually I can never get you alone at lunch, I have so many TikToks I wanna show you.”

You shrugged. “He’s been weird for a couple of days now, like, look at this.” You pulled out your phone and showed them your text history or now lack thereof. Shayne saw the one message from the past three days and his eyebrows raised higher.

“And you’ve tried talking to him about it?”

You nodded, locking your phone and putting it on the table. “He basically ran out of the kitchen when I asked him if everything was okay. By the time I was done for the day he was already at home, he usually stops by my desk if he’s leaving earlier than I am. I wasn’t in a shoot or anything.”

Angela slackened, leaning against her elbows on the desk and looking up at you with a frown on her face. “That’s definitely weird, yeah. Yeah, no, that’s weird. You guys didn’t argue about anything or anything?”

You shook your head, fidgeting with your nails. “Monday everything was normal, now I’m here.”

Your phone buzzed with your alarm that you’d set, you had fifteen minutes until your call time for the next shoot. You’d mostly finished eating but you picked up your fork again and poked at the remaining food on your plate. “And like, I don’t know. I’m not spiralling, like I know that he loves me and everything and I don’t think we’re on the brink of breaking up or anything, I just have no idea what’s going on.”

Angela reached over and squeezed your wrist. “Anything I can do? I won’t do anything unless you tell me too, obviously, but I can talk to him about it if you want?”

You let out a puff of air and shook your head. “No, but thank you for the offer.” You stood, taking your little container of food to drop it back off at your desk before you went to set. “I’ll see you guys later? Thank you for letting me talk.”

“Of course, babe.”

“Yeah,” Shayne said genuinely. “Let either of us know if we can help?”

You moved through the next few hours as best you could, putting on your most entertaining face for the camera. You didn’t win the game but you also hadn’t embarrassed yourself a supreme amount, so you took it as a win. By the time you had to be on set for your final shoot of the game, you’d had a coffee and you were ready to head home. You didn’t let being tired stop you, you were still bright and smiley, the way the audience was used to seeing you.

You definitely regretted not reading the call sheet beyond your own call time, though, because Spencer was sitting at the table on his phone.

You didn’t know whether you were allowed to sit beside him. You wanted to, and you were sure that he wouldn’t get angry with you, but would it make the experience awkward?

You pretended to go back to your desk for something, hoping that at least one other person would be at the table before you had to sit down. This was why you never showed up anywhere early.

By the time you got back, your prayers had been answered and Courtney and Shayne had taken the two seats on either side of him. You slid on the other end of the table, across from Shayne, who smiled encouragingly at you.

“Hi!” You hadn’t seen Courtney all day and she smiled widely at you. “I tried that recipe you sent me last night and I think I’ve decided that I want to marry you.”

“Aw man,” Shane put a hand on his forehead, shaking his head as he glared at the table. “Didn’t even get a year in, I owe Damien twenty bucks.”

“Oh my god, wait, we’re kinda on a cute little double date right now,” Courtney giggled. “Look at us go.”

Courtney hadn’t been present at the table during lunch, but they could definitely tell that something was going on between you and Spencer, if only from the fact that he hadn’t already leaned behind her to tell you a joke that only you would find funny.

She waited until Spencer and Shayne got up to be mic’d to turn to you, voice hushed. “You okay?”

You rehashed the story as quickly and quietly as you could and she frowned. “I was wondering why he came and ate at my desk but I just assumed you were busy or something. That’s weird. It’s not gonna make the video weird is it?”

“No,” you assured them. “We’re adults, and as far as I know, we’re still together,” you’d said the last part jokingly. You were adults, you wouldn’t have broken up over something like this, not without a lot of discussion first, but you still had no idea why he was basically giving you the silent treatment.

“Alright, guys,” Alex called out and Spencer slid back into his chair. He shot you a smile and you returned it while Alex outlined who was giving the intro, how many points you needed to win, etc, things that you didn’t necessarily think about until you were doing them on camera. “And we’re rolling in three…”

Shayne started talking to the camera and you fidgeted under the desk. You really enjoyed filming for Smosh Games, it was probably your favourite channel to film for. But also, it was hard to enjoy a board game when you were on four different cameras. You’d have to talk to Kortney to make sure you didn’t look completely tired and bummed out the entire time in the final cut.

You managed to get through the first few rounds okay, making the group laugh a few times and getting a few moments that would make the video. It had started when someone made a dumb joke, some sort of thing about a really sophisticated cat or something, and Spencer had bounced off it. “Yeah, my neighbour across the hall is like, moving in with their partner or something, and I ran into them in the hallway a couple of days ago and offered to help with a box they were kinda struggling with and the box was just labeled ‘Lemons,’” The whole table giggled at that, trying to figure out where he was going with it. “And I was like… “Okay, this person has a thing for lemons I guess?” but then I go into their apartment and I find out that they apparently both had cats, right? And so my neighbour had a cat and now their partner’s cat is also moving in. Apparently both of the cats are called Lemons!”

That really got Courtney, their head getting thrown back as she laughed. “No way!”

“They’re soulmates, dude,” Shayne nodded.

Spencer looked over at you, path completely clear now that Courtney had scooted her chair back. You knew the one of Spencer’s neighbours that he was referring to, he’d told you the story as the two of you walked to your cars the afternoon after it happened.

“Would that be something that you were interested in?” He’d asked after a second, taking out his keys with the hand that wasn’t holding yours.

You liked cats, but your apartment didn’t allow them, and you also didn’t know if you really had the energy or the time to deal with a pet right now. You shook your head. “Not really, I’m fine solo over there,” you’d said.

Spencer had nodded and kissed your temple, right beside your eye on the side of your face. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he’d said in a low voice.

Spencer, at the games table, seemed to watch you have the realisation in real time. Your eyes had drifted back to the table in thought for a second and they came back up to lock with his. You looked a lot more resolute than you had before, and he was a little bit nervous.

He hadn’t been ignoring you to be immature, it had been honestly wanting to back off so as to not make you uncomfortable. He’d tried to take a step and you hadn’t wanted to, and he respected that. But he also didn’t know if what he had previously been doing was also what you wanted, so he was trying to just get to the weekend when he knew you’d be feeling better enough to maybe have a full conversation about where the two of you were at. You’d celebrated your one year anniversary two months earlier, he saw a future with you. He’d been confident that you felt the same way, you showed him consistently, but now he was worried he’d overstepped in ways he hadn’t realised. He’d thought you’d have said yes, maybe he was wrong about other things as well.

Your eyes were soft as they met his, flicking away to listen to Shayne talk. You weren’t having this conversation in the middle of the shoot. He turned to listen as well, but the two of you had both relaxed in the shoulders slightly, hoping that maybe by the end of the night you’d be on the same page.

The shoot wrapped up pretty quick with Courtney sweeping the game. You were the one to run through the ending spiel, like, subscribe, all that stuff. Once Alex finally called cut, Spencer was quick to lean over and murmur. “I gotta talk to Alex really quick about some stuff, I’ll be ten minutes max.”

You nodded at him and he practically ran to Alex, opening up his bag and pulling out a folder of something probably important. Shayne and Courtney watched the interaction. “Guess he’s not avoiding you anymore?”

“I realised what happened literally in the middle of filming,” you sighed, rubbing your face. “Oh my god, I’m so stupid.” You had to laugh, it was silly.

“He asked me to move in with him earlier this week. I said no because I thought he was asking if I wanted to get a cat.”

Both Shayne and Courtney also had to laugh. “No, that’s so dumb, I’m sorry,” Courtney put her forehead on your shoulder as a sign of support for a second before lifting it up. “At least it’s something you can fix easily.”

“Yeah,” Shayne nudged you. “You’ll be fine. You got this,”

You nodded, more just relieved that you’d figured out the problem so you could solve it. You knew Spencer hadn’t intentionally kept it from you, he’d thought you’d known this whole time. Spencer still didn’t know that you were unaware of your rejection, he’d just seen the love-filled look you’d given him and assumed that meant you still wanted to see him.

Shayne and Courtney packed their stuff up and headed off, not without both giving you an equally cheesy thumbs-up as they walked through the door. Spencer and Alex were both still nodding seriously at whatever piece of paper they were looking at, but they both smiled at you as you left to go back towards your desk.

You grabbed all your stuff and then stood outside the pod for a little while, dragging the toe of your shoes across the concrete flooring as you waited for your boyfriend. “Hi,” his voice was quiet but not awkward as he approached you from behind.

You didn’t wait, you wrapped your arms around his neck and he hugged you back with no hesitation. “I love you,” you mumbled into his neck.

“I love you too,” he replied immediately. “You okay?”

You nodded, pulling back just enough that he could see your face. “Yes, just stupid, I think.”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Yeah you are pretty dumb, aren’t you?” You pushed him off you and he took your hand, the two of you heading outside to your cars. “What specifically led you to this discovery?”

You squeezed his hand and stopped walking, pulling him off to the side so you weren’t standing in the middle of the road, coming to a stop in front of his car. “I thought you were asking if I wanted a cat.” You explained. “Last weekend, you asked ‘do you want to do that?’ and I thought you were talking about me getting a cat.”

He just smiled, still looking slightly confused. You squeezed his hand again and it hit him that time. “Oh! No, no, that’s not… no, I wasn’t asking if you wanted a cat.”

You nodded as if that was obvious. “No, I know that now.”

“No, that’s on me I asked it super vaguely,” he reasoned, swinging your joined arms slightly. “I thought you were saying no and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t like, smothering you or whatever. I didn’t want you to think that you not wanting to move in with me was going to make me super clingy or something.”

“Not at all,” you replied honestly. “In fact, you’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me. If we’re living together I’m gonna be all over you like grease on those weird pans you have. We’re throwing them out by the way, I refuse to cook with those things.”

He laughed loudly, it almost echoing around the small parking lot. “They might not be non-stick but at least I don’t burn my hand on them every week like I do with yours.” His eyes were filled with a comfortable happiness behind his glasses as your hands still swung. “Wait,” he stopped you. “Does this mean you want to move in with me?”

You didn’t even bother teasing him that time. “I would love to,” you said honestly. “But seriously, you can keep the pans. I won't make you get rid of them, but I can not use them.”

He groaned, looking at the ground as his eyebrows furrowed. “You’re the worst girlfriend ever.”

“I have a perfectly good apartment, you know.”

“No, you already agreed,” he pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours for the first time in what had literally been days. “You’re moving in with me and my weird pans.” You didn’t even bother replying to that, instead kissing him again slowly. He let you. You were overdue for one anyway.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - implied kidnapping, possessive behavior, slight stalking, delusional thoughts.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

Like most tailors, Chiori often finds herself preoccupied with the concept of preservation.

It’s as inevitable as it is unreasonable, for those who work through mediums as impermanent as fabric and textile. To make a piece of clothing is to make something that, by its very definition, cannot last. No matter how fine the silk, no matter how strong the thread, no matter how sturdy her design – colors will fade and stitches will run and eventually, the only thing left of her masterpiece will be a pile of scraps left to rot underneath a bed or among the cobwebs in a forgotten attic corner. Fashion is an even more unforgiving mistress. What does it mean to try and capture the beauty of a single moment in a world that stood for a thousand years before she ever thought to pick up a needle and will stand for a thousand more, when she’s no longer able to? What does it mean that she keeps trying, regardless?

Inevitably, when Chriori thinks about herself and her craft, she thinks about preservation. And, when she thinks about preservation, she thinks about you.

You, in the most generous of sentiments, are the enemy of permanence. Her designs may eventually fall apart, but you seem to tear and shatter all that you touch, to rend the very fabric of reality without ever dropping that achingly oblivious smile. Your first visit to her shop ended with a shattered teacup, your second with a chip to the blade of her favorite pair of sheers, your tenth with a pot of her darkest, blackest dye splattered across an otherwise untouched skein of dove-white silk. Calling you clumsy would be an understatement – you’re a vehicle of pure destruction, an entity of the type of chaos that so often reduces her finest creations to rags. If it wasn’t for the way you apologize so wholeheartedly after each and every offense, the bright optimism written across your expression each time you step through the door of her boutique, she might mistake your drastic lack of coordination for a deliberate act of sabotage. At least, if that were the case, she may be able to find the strength to banish you entirely from her domain.

Her frequent gifts to you – unpaid orders, she assures, items that would just go to waste if left to gather dust on her shelves – are demolished with a similar haste. That, you can blame on the needs of your trade, claim that the clothes of the noble class don’t mix with the work of laborers, but as often as she tries, she fails to see what’s so dangerous about hauling spools of ribbon and crates of lace from one boutique to another. You do your best to mend torn sleeves, to find replacements for missing buttons, but she almost wishes you wouldn’t – that you’d let her claims to you die a swift death rather than defacing them so humiliatingly. In her weakest moments, she considers that being more blatant with her intentions, speaking to you in something other than cutting innuendo and being more transparent in her attempts to carve her name into you, but it wouldn’t make a difference. Your nature, so quick and brash and thoughtless, is contradictory to hers. No number of signatures stitched into the hems of undercollars and lipstick stains pressed into the lining between layers of material can change that.

Certainly, none of it can change the trait Chiori finds most troubling in you – your willing inability to preserve even the most precious of things, yourself. Fontaine is a much more gentle land than Inazuma, but no part of Teyvat is completely free from risk. You brag worryingly often about your run-ins with local monsters, go on at length about having to guard the embroideries she had commissioned from the finest thread-painters in Liyue from fabric-eating slimes and especially fashionable thieves, but all your levity can’t seem to draw your attention from the bruises blossoming upward from your shirt collar, the bandages so often wrapped around knuckles and plastered over your cheeks. Mortality is a concept you seemed to have considered briefly and ultimately discarded, leaving Chiori to try to make something redeemable out of the scraps. It’d be enough to drive anyone mad. It’d be enough to drive any good tailor to extremes.

You are not a delicate fabric. Satin can be properly hemmed and handled with gloves, embroidery glazed over with perfumes and resins, lace held to a candle and burnt into a more sustainable form, but you are not so easily changed. Gowns have no regard for safety or the lack thereof, but you – frustrating, impossible you – seem to actively detest the very idea of it.

You are the enemy of permeance. It’s a thought Chiori often considers, lingers on, obsess over, as she would the safe keeping of any of her proudest works.

But, she finds herself thinking, as she feels the reassuring chill of iron chains again her palm and weighs it against two matching twin cuffs, there’s a chance she may just be pairing you with the wrong materials.

[princesskaulitz]

Hi, so here's my prompt for 2010 tom x reader, Tom and reader are both in rival bands, maybe the reader is in a band like maneskin, and they both talk shit about each other in interviews but, in reality they are secrectly dating, so onetime they aren't careful and Bill catches them. I know it's a little long, I'm sorry <3

Stage Fights & Late Night Bites

✮ tom kaulitz fic

✮ 2010 era, fem! reader, use of strong language, sexual content (no real smut, just allusions to sex if that’s what you’d call it idek 😭) i also tried to make this sorta humorous. this also isn’t proofread.

✮ A/N omg @hunnybunny05 you literally sent me this request back in november and it’s taken me this long to get it up and i’m SO sorry 😭 when i tell yall that my family life has been so wild and stressful and there was a point i couldn’t sleep till 6am bc of this particular family member who isn’t well mentally and needs to be monitored- it’s been rough and things have been chill for a moment bc they’ve been away getting help and ive been trying to relax but i have a feeling things could get stressful again since they’re coming back so i wanted to get this up while i can 🖤

“I mean, if y/n spent half as much time practicing as she does running her mouth, maybe she’d actually be a decent guitarist.”

Tom said as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, smirking at the interviewer like he hadn’t just started another wildfire. The camera light blinked red, recording every second, every word that would inevitably be dissected, clipped, and plastered across music blogs within the hour. Somewhere, he knew you were watching—rolling your eyes, scoffing, maybe even flipping him off through the screen.

And later, when the cameras were off and the world wasn’t watching, you’d have your own way of getting revenge.

But for now, the game continued.

Somewhere across the city, in a dimly lit dressing room littered with guitar picks and half-empty energy drink cans, you scoffed at the screen. Truth be told, you were always iconic and unbothered.

“Oh, he wants to talk shit? Cute.” You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, watching Tom’s smirk like it was a challenge. The interviewer laughed, egging him on, and you could already hear the fans blowing up the comments. Beef’s still going strong. They HATE each other omg. God, just kiss already.

If only they knew.

Your bandmate snorted from the couch. “That dude’s got a ridiculous ego.”

You smirked, hiding the way your fingers itched to grab your phone. You and Tom had a routine—trash talk in interviews, throw a few not-so-subtle digs in social media captions, maybe even stare each other down at award shows. The rivalry was the perfect cover. No one suspected the stolen glances, the rushed hotel meetups, the nights where words were replaced with hands tangled in hair and whispered promises.

And yet, you were getting reckless.

Your phone vibrated in your lap. A message.

Tom: You’re cute when you’re mad.

Your stomach flipped. You should ignore it. Instead, your fingers moved on their own.

You: I’m going to make you look so ridiculous at my next interview tonight.

And that was the problem with this game. Sooner or later, someone was bound to catch on.

“You guys arguing have us trending like everywhere.” Bill says, scrolling through his phone as the guys are in the car back to their hotel. Bill loved that the beef fueled engagement, interviews, and fan speculation, making both groups more relevant. If people found out it was fake, it could kill the hype and make them look like frauds.

But it’s deeper than just PR. Bill himself would often take shots at your band on Tom’s behalf. To him, you were just being a pure bitch to his beloved, older twin brother and he despised you for it. Tom told him everything—or so he thought. If he found out that his his twin was sneaking around with the “enemy” while letting him play into a rivalry that wasn’t even real, he’d be pissed and even feel betrayed.

Tom doesn’t respond, Bill notices he’s engrossed in texting someone- you. You two were talking about how you’ll both be in the same location tomorrow for your tours, even staying at the same hotel, planning on meeting up in secret like you always did when you two wound up in the same location for a few days.

“Who’s that?” Bill asks, always having to know Tom’s business.

“Just staff.” Tom lies, turning his phone off and stuffing it back into his pocket.

At first, it was fun. The secrecy, the sneaking around—it added to the thrill.

Then, it became a mess he didn’t know how to undo. If you suddenly stopped trashing each other, people would notice. He ESPECIALLY didn’t want his bandmates to find out—they might see it as a betrayal, especially if your bandmates would too.

And deep down, maybe he’s afraid it won’t last. If things end badly, it’s easier to go back to being “rivals” than to admit he risked everything for nothing.

That night, the band mates were will chilling, smoking, having some drinks in Georg’s hotel room. After many laughs, bringing up of embarrassing memories, and play fighting one another, they got engrossed in their own things, tom is scrolling through his phone, bill is half asleep, listening to music, Gustav is fully asleep, snoring his ass off.

Georg is scrolling on social media on his laptop, he comes across a clip of you at your interview from a couple hours ago that was live-streamed, you and your band surrounded by fans and a main interviewer.

“Oh shit.” Georg chuckles as he watches the video.

“What?” Tom asks. Bill opens his eyes and looks over as well.

Georg just unplugs his headphones and turns his laptop to Tom, playing the video for him.

“So what do you really think of tom kaulitz?” A fan asks you, the main interviewer holding the mic for them.

“Well truth be told, I try not to but he can’t do a single damn interview without mentioning me… but hey if you need to piggyback off my name to get some recognition, I’ll be supportive and help a band who needs a little help back up.”

The moment the words left your mouth, the entire room erupted. A loud, collective “OHHHHHH!” rippled through the crowd, followed by bursts of laughter and dramatic gasps.

Bill scoffs, reaching over and shutting the laptop “nervige Schlampe.” (Means “annoying bitch”) He murmurs under his breath before leaning back and closing his eyes again.

Meanwhile Tom suppresses a smirk. “She’s so fucking annoying. I wish someone would slap her.” Tom lies through his teeth, sitting back.

“She’s witty, I’ll give her that.” Georg chuckles again, gathering his laptop and things. “I’m going to head to bed and you all should too. We have a huge show to rehearse tomorrow.” He advises.

Gustav snores loudly, not waking up. Tom throws a pillow at him, startling him awake. “Bed time.” Tom says. With that, Gustav also gathers his things and they all go to their hotel rooms.

Tom laid in bed, not without texting you first of course, enjoying the typical banter between you both…

Tom: You’re annoying. Do you know that?

Y/N: it wasn’t that bad. I was just being supportive.

Tom: Supportive? You just made me look like an idiot on live.

Y/N: I was just stating the facts. I mean, you can’t do an interview without bringing me up. It’s cute tbh.

Tom: it’s cute? You called me a publicity stunt.

Y/N: Nah, I said I’d help a band that needs a little boost. That’s called being supportive. You’re welcome.

Tom: Supportive? More like sabotage.

You do realize half my fanbase is probably thinking I can’t even speak for myself now, right?

Y/N: That’s your problem, not mine. 😘

He couldn’t help but smirk at how unbothered you are.

Y/N: we both know you love it when I tease you. Admit it.

Tom: I swear I’m going to strangle you one of these days.

Y/N: Oooh, is that a promise?

Tom: yes

Y/N: Nah, you love me too much.

Tom: I hate you

…but you’re still mine, so I guess I’ll let you live this time.

Y/N: I knew it.

The next day, all Tom could think about during rehearsal was you, when he’d get to see you again, the time literally couldn’t go by any slower and it was slowly killing him. He reminisced on the other times you two have met up, venting to one another, sharing your thoughts on just walking away from music all together when things get stressful and reassuring each other that it’s okay to feel that way sometimes. Surprisingly you understood him in a way that no one else did, he was able to talk to you about his feelings and struggles while actually feeling safe to be vulnerable, you made him feel validated and comfortable.

That night, the guys wanted to hang out, maybe go out on the town, get something to eat, shop— but he declined, knowing he had plans with you. He said something about how he was feeling low on his social battery which wasn’t out of the ordinary for Tom at times.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. You glanced down at the hotel key card in your hand, already feeling the familiar mix of anticipation and excitement.

You had a plan. You knew what you were walking into—no distractions, no outside chaos. Just you, Tom, and the privacy of his hotel room.

The hallway was quiet as you approached his door. You knocked softly, already smirking at the thought of what might happen behind closed doors. A few seconds passed, and the door swung open.

Tom stood in front of you, his eyes lighting up the second he saw you. That signature smirk, and that damned look he always had when he was trying not to be too obvious about wanting you—oh, yeah. He was ready for this.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” he said, voice low, teasing, but there was a spark in his gaze that wasn’t entirely playful.

You smiled, stepping into the room. “I said I’d be here, didn’t I?”

He closed the door behind you, too distracted to lock it. “Yeah, you did. But I wasn’t sure if you’d actually go through with it considering the other times we’ve almost been seen sneaking around.”

You turned to face him, just inches away. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, eyes scanning your face as if he couldn’t quite believe you were there.

The tension between you both had been building for weeks. Every look, every word spoken in private felt like an invitation for something more—something you both were trying so hard to resist. But not tonight. Tonight was different.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours lightly at first, testing the waters. You didn’t hesitate. Your hands found the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss.

Tom groaned softly into your mouth, the sound sending a wave of warmth through you. His lips were urgent now, pressing against yours with a mix of desperation and desire, as though he couldn’t hold back any longer.

When you pulled away, both of you breathless, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured.

You chuckled softly, brushing your thumb over his lower lip. “I think we both are.”

A smirk tugged at his mouth. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Too bad.” You kissed him again, this time with more intent, pulling him closer until you could feel the heat radiating off his body. Your fingers grazed down his chest, teasing the fabric of his shirt.

Tom’s hands roamed to your back, pressing you flush against him as he guided you backward toward the bed. You could feel the tension in his body, the desire barely contained.

“You sure about this?” he asked again, his breath hot against your lips, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“Definitely.” You kissed him once more, this time with purpose, letting the moment take over.

He didn’t need any more words. His hands slid to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly as his lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You pulled him back up to kiss him again, this time with more need than before.

It was clear now—this wasn’t just a casual meeting, this wasn’t just going to be late night deep talks like usual.

You pulled back just long enough to whisper against his lips. “Let’s make tonight unforgettable.”

Tom grinned, his hands already moving with intention. “Oh, it will be.”

And damn was he about to be proven right…

The other guys were back a little early, they hadn’t even left the parking lot yet as Bill realized he had left his wallet and couldn’t find it. He tore apart his own hotel room, and Georg’s since that’s where they’d been hanging out mostly.

Tom never locked his damn door.

You realized this way too late, tangled in his sheets, stripped down, his lips hot against your neck, his hips thrusting against yours with the kind of urgency that made you forget everything—your band, the rivalry, the fact that literally anyone could walk in.

And someone did.

“Tom, have you seen my—OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” Bill’s voice snapped through the air like a whip.

Tom’s body practically levitated off of you, quickly covering himself. “BILL, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

You barely had time to grab the nearest thing to cover yourself—Tom’s stupidly oversized hoodie—before locking eyes with his wide-eyed, horrified twin. Bill stood frozen in the doorway, holding a half-full water bottle like it was his only lifeline.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” Bill demanded, gesturing wildly at the two of you. “ARE YOU—OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.”

“Bill, get the fuck out!” Tom shouted, flinging a pillow at him.

Bill smacked it away, looking personally offended. “You—you two HATE each other!” His face scrunched like his entire worldview had just shattered. “Do you have ANY idea what this means?!”

“That you need to knock?!” you shot back, trying to adjust Tom’s hoodie while staying somewhat decent.

“That you two are FAKES!” Bill pointed at you both accusingly. “Oh my god, the interviews, the beef—My own brother has been lying to me?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY INTERVIEWS I’VE DONE TALKING SHIT ABOUT HER? DEFENDING YOU? I CALLED HER A MEDIOCRE CUNT LAST WEEK, TOM. ON. LIVE. TELEVISION!”

Tom, now gripping the blanket like his life depended on it, tried to salvage the situation. “Look, I was gonna tell you—”

“WHEN?! AFTER THE WEDDING?!” Bill shot back.

“What the—there’s no wedding!” Tom says, starting to get annoyed.

“WELL, CLEARLY, I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, SO WHO KNOWS?!” Bill says.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from wheezing.

Bill exhaled dramatically, putting a hand on his chest like he needed to steady himself. “I just—wow. Wow. So this whole rivalry was just some sick foreplay to you?”

Tom actually choked. “GET. OUT.”

With that, bill spun on his heel and stormed out, leaving behind only a shattered sense of trust and the distant sound of him muttering, “Unbelievable. Unreal. I need a fucking drink.”

Tom flopped onto the bed with a miserable groan.

You grinned, still wearing his hoodie. “I dunno. ‘Sick foreplay’ was a pretty good line.”

Tom grabbed a pillow and smothered his own face “Fucking hell.” He groans. “I think I just lost five years of my life.”

You snicker. “Well… at least he didn’t tell the entire hotel staff.”

Tom shoots you a look. “Give him time.”

You grin, shifting closer, fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Y’know…” You pause, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach, feeling the way his breath hitches. “Now that the dramatics are over…”

His eyes narrow suspiciously. “No.”

You blink innocently. “No, what?”

“I know that tone. That’s your ‘let’s do something reckless’ tone.” He says.

You hum, leaning in to press a slow, teasing kiss just below his jaw. “I was just thinking…” Another kiss, trailing lower. “It’d be a shame to let the night go to waste.”

Tom exhales sharply, his hands already sliding to your hips, but he still gives you a look. “After what just happened? You’re insane.”

You shrug, smirking. “Or maybe I just really, really want you.”

Tom groans, tilting his head back against the pillow. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Is that a complaint?” You ask.

He flips you onto your back so fast you gasp. His smirk is dangerous now, fingers tightening on your waist. “Not at all.”

And just like that, the night is definitely not going to waste.

Later… Tom found Bill on the hotel balcony, staring out at the city with a half-empty beer in his hand. The neon lights reflected off the glass railing, painting him in blues and purples, but the dramatic sulking pose was all Bill.

Tom sighed, stepping out into the cool night air. “You gonna give me the silent treatment forever, or…?”

Bill took a slow sip, not looking at him. “Dunno. Maybe.”

Tom rolled his eyes, leaning against the railing next to him. “Come on.”

Silence.

Bill exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I just don’t get it, Tom.” He finally turned to look at Tom, brows furrowed. “You told me everything. Every stupid crush, every hookup, every time you almost texted an ex at 2 a.m.—”

“Okay, first of all, that was like… twice.” Tom says

“—And then you go and have a whole-ass secret relationship behind my back?” Bill ignored him, gesturing vaguely. “With her? The one person we were supposed to hate?”

Tom sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Bill gave him a flat look. “Yeah, no shit.”

Tom huffed a laugh, but it faded quickly. “I didn’t plan on keeping it from you. It just… got out of hand.” He shrugged. “At first, it was just fun. Then it was more than that and we started talking about deep stuff, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Bill stayed quiet, fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle.

Tom nudged him lightly. “I never wanted to lie to you. But I knew you’d freak out.”

“I wouldn’t have freaked out.” Bill says.

Tom shot him a look. “You dramatically monologued when you walked in on us.”

Bill scoffed. “That was a reasonable reaction.”

“You asked if we were getting married.” Tom says.

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?! Clearly, I’m not included in these life decisions anymore!” Bill exclaims.

Tom groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Bill.”

Bill sighed, finally letting go of the grudge just a little. He glanced at Tom, a small smirk forming. “So… is it serious?”

Tom hesitated. The automatic answer was nah, it’s just a thing, but that wasn’t the truth anymore. He rubbed his jaw, looking out at the city. “…Yeah. I think it is.”

Bill was quiet for a beat, then groaned, tipping his head back. “Goddamn it. Now I have to pretend I like her.”

Tom laughed, nudging him again. “You’ll survive.”

Bill made a face but finally, finally, let his shoulders relax. He pointed at Tom. “Just so you know, I’m still holding this over your head.”

“Of course you are.” Tom responds.

“And I’m still mad I found out the way I did.” Bill continues.

“Noted.” Tom says.

Bill took another sip of his beer, then exhaled. “…But if she breaks your heart, I get to say ‘I told you so.’”

Tom smirked. “Deal.”

They clinked their beer bottles together, a silent truce, before Bill added, “Also, if you ever traumatize me like that again, I will be charging you for my therapy.”

Tom just laughed. “Fair.”

Tom joined you again later in the hotel room, you decided to just stay the night with him. You dressed in a nice, lacy, silk nightdress.

You exhaled, propping yourself up on your elbow. “So… what happens now?”

Tom blinked, turning his head to look at you. “You mean, after my twin recovers from emotional trauma?”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up. “I mean us, idiot.”

His smirk faltered for just a second. “Oh.” You watched as he rubbed his jaw, a telltale sign that something was on his mind.

“You think this is a mistake?” you asked quietly.

Tom sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “No. I think you might be the only real thing I’ve got right now.”

That caught you off guard. You stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

“But, I mean… look at us.” He gestured vaguely. “You’re touring. I’m touring. We’re never in the same place for more than a few days. We’ve spent months making people believe we can’t stand each other.” His voice softened. “How the hell do we make this work?”

You let that sit for a moment before shrugging. “We’ll figure it out.”

Tom let out a dry laugh. “That simple, huh?”

“Yeah.” You stood up and moved closer, resting your chin on his chest. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now. But if this—” you gestured between the two of you “—means anything, we try.”

Tom glanced down at you, eyes searching. “And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we deal with it. But I’d rather crash and burn than pretend this doesn’t matter.”

His throat bobbed, his fingers brushing over your arm. “You really mean that?”

You nodded. “Do you?”

Tom sighed, then finally, finally, let the hesitation melt away. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. I do.”

A slow smile spread across your lips. “Then it’s settled.”

Tom smirked. “So what, we start a long-distance, secret relationship while still fake-hating each other in public?”

You laughed, pressing a teasing kiss to his lips. “Sounds like a challenge.”

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

And just like that, you both stopped worrying about the ‘what-ifs’ and just let it be.

[coralinnii]

Congrats for reaching 2.7k followers !! Do you think you could do either Silver or Sebek (or both if it’s not too much >_<) for the Villain/ess AU? Again, congrats!!!🎉🍾🎈🎊

‧₊˚✧Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy‧₊˚✧

↳ villain/ess au series

feat: Silver ❋ Sebek genre: enemies(?)-to-something more Silver ver, comrades-to-something more Sebek ver., slow burn romance,  note: no pronouns used, prejudice against humans, reader is a fae in Silver ver., reader is a human in Sebek vers., Sebek’s reader is just done with Lilia’s shenanigans, set in the same universe as Malleus' and Lilia's ver. but not necessarily simultaneously,

Villain/ess au masterlist 2.7k followers writing event

If you look past the whole…absurdity that is being reincarnated into a dating simulation of your previous world, you'd say you hit the jackpot here.

You suddenly found yourself as a minor antagonist who was supposed to be love obstacle to one of the popular targets of the game, the venerable Dragon Fae King Malleus Draconia. As such, you became a stereotypically beautiful but unbelievably vain fae character of high social standing, an antithesis to the lovable and modest main protagonist. 

The heroine can have the dragon king, you thought. You’ll just dab away your tears while you bathe in luxury.

If you could have one complaint…it would probably be your “original” personality. 

You and your family were infamous for their stance against mixing with humans. Coming from a long line of pure fae blood, your original character held hostility over “pathetic parasites leeching off the purity of the faes.” 

Oooff, what a piece of work you apparently were. 

It was this prejudice that your family demanded the engagement between you and Malleus, and the reason for the vicious treatment of the main heroine…which inevitably led to the loss of your golden spoon, and imprisonment of you and your family. 

Oh, screw that! Absolutely not! 

Thus began the start of your total image revamp. You were going to prove that you definitely won’t be an obstacle for the unity of human-fae harmony, or if the dragon king were to suddenly bring a human as his consort-to-be. 

But sadly it was easier said than done. 

“What is that person doing here?” 

The patrolling knights whispered to themselves as they narrowed their gaze towards your back. Their searing glares felt burning to your very being, but you smiled through it as you carried a large basket of goodies.

“I wish to do my part as a noble and help sponsor this orphanage, and I brought some sandwiches if the children would like some.” 

“Hah! Do you even realize what kind of orphanage this is?” One of the knights sneered at you. This was one of the few shelters that was willing to house human children that turned up in the forest near the kingdom’s borders, often abandoned and left to perish if not for the Vanrouge family who founded this orphanage. 

Unfortunately, the duke family is its only sponsor as prejudice still runs strong in many noble families, yours included. 

“I’m aware, and I want to assist with the upkeep of this orphanage.” You asserted your stance. “I understand that the Vanrouge family is very busy so I volunteer my assistance since my manor is close.” 

Many of the knights aren’t convinced. They stood in the way of the orphanage as though they’re guarding from someone dangerous. Some tried to whisper stealthily amongst each other but your fae ears could pick up their words.

“This is probably a cruel trick.” “Maybe the food is poisoned.” “How terrible.” 

“If you gentlemen would like, you are free to try some of the sandwiches.” You offered kindly, but your smile was strained and your fingers tight around the basket’s handles. 

You expected this, but the building frustration and humiliation is hard to suppress. You knew your family’s reputation precedes you and their doubts are valid, but to suspect that you are some sort of monster who could harm children for simply being human? You would never, how could they…

“Thank you for such kindness, your grace.”

Your bitter spiral broke at the sound of a clear voice, strong but warm at the same time. A hand reached out to pick out a small sandwich, which your gaze followed to meet a pair of the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. 

To the shock of the other knights, this man unhesitantly took a large bite of the handmade sandwich, then cleanly finished it in a few more bites. His auroral eyes shone with such warmness as he thanked you once more. “It was delicious.”

“Silver, careful!” The knight called out to the mysterious man before you. “You shouldn’t trust anything from that snake-“ 

“Hold your tongue, sir.” Despite showing nothing but kindness before, the fair-haired knight was quick to sternly reprimand his comrade before he turned to you to bow his head. “I apologize for my comrade’s rude behavior. I will accept any punishment in his stead.” 

Flustered, you replied quickly. “Please think nothing of it! I know of my family’s… notoriety, so I understand the suspicions you and your knights have.” 

“I’d rather judge someone by their actions rather than their family.” He smiled, and you swore your heart nearly stopped for a moment. What an unfairly beautiful man, you thought. 

Like a practiced knight, the beautiful man offered you a hand. “Allow me to carry the basket for you. The children will be excited to see a new face.” 

Wordlessly, you gave the basket to him and proceeded to walk towards the orphanage, ignoring the stunned faces of the speechless men, not that you cared to acknowledge them anymore. Afterall, your attention has been stolen by this mysterious man next to you. 

You were surprised how such a handsome and kind man liked him to show up. The way the other knights were quick to obey him, he was probably of higher standing or reputation. From his visuals to his manners, you thought he was definitely target route material. So, what was he doing as a minor NPC? 

“What was his name? Silver? Was there a character like him in the main story?” You racked your brain for an answer. Surely a catch like him wouldn’t be left in the sidelines, unless…

As though one of Malleus’ lightning struck you, your body broke out in cold sweat as you finally recognized the suspiciously attractive knight beside you. 

Silver, one of Malleus’ most trusted knights and the heroine’s closest friend in Malleus’ route. Believed to hold unrequited love for the protagonist, he swore to protect her, and eventually helped to capture and prosecute the love rival’s family for their wrongdoings. 

In short, this good-looking man will be responsible for sending you to jail for bullying his one-sided love.  

Oh, fu-

Was this punishment for making fun of your friend for liking this dumb dating sim game? If it was, this is a bit much, isn’t it? The muscles in your body screamed for mercy as day after day, you were put through hellish training, stared down by an unmoving commander.

You vaguely remembered the plot of the story, but couldn’t figure out who you were, or if you were of any significance to the plot. For all you know, you were some human soldier for the fae kingdom, currently going through hell.

As a commoner human amongst fae, you were treated with jeers and insults from your so-called comrades. Some of your peers were more affable but there were some poorly made characters clearly just there to make your life miserable.

“Is this my villain arc? Is that it?” But you were barely above it all, since the soldier’s pay was decent, and all the school-ground taunts were easy to ignore. Honestly, there was only one person that really grinds your gears. 

“You are insulting Lord Malleus’ great name if this is all you can do!” 

That loud voice, now unmistakable to you, belonged to the obnoxious soldier Sebek Zigvolt who seems to live off proving his worth to the king of this kingdom. 

“The goal was to do 100 push-ups, and that’s what I did.” 

“Hah, that is mere child-play. I can go on for a hundred more!” If you have to give him something, he puts his money where his mouth is as the green-haired man then proceeded to continue on with the workout. 

Be it a cruel joke or karma from your past life, you became partners with this loudmouth half-fae. The commander, Duke Vanrouge reasoned that it was to learn comradery and to balance each other’s flaws, but you suspect that there was more to it. But screw it, you don’t have the energy to pursue the real reason. 

And so, you were stuck in this partnership/rivalry with Malleus’ most loyal soldier. 

“We’re wasting time, weak human!” 

You should get a hearing check after this, as you were unfavorably close to your partner, who despite telling him to stay quiet, continues to scream right into your ear. 

“The course just started, you lousy crocodile.” You sighed as you knew Sebek wasn’t happy when you forced him to hide in the large grass. 

As a surprise, your division was given a training course with color-coordinated powder pellets and painted rubber blades as ammo. The goal was to find and strike as many painted targets in the forest, with you and the other soldiers included as targets. 

In addition to the stationary targets, it meant that you had to look out for other soldiers to target you for points. Fair enough, but while the instructions were straightforward, the one who devised this course was the Duke Vanrouge. 

“I don’t trust a single thing that old fart comes up with.” You mumbled as you surveyed the scene. You expected traps, decoys, even surprise bears to jump up out of the blue, because anything is possible with the eccentric former general. 

Then, a rustle from afar. 

Before you could react, Sebek was quicker as he wrapped his arm from behind you, pushing you down with him as a pellet burst with colored powder above you. You heard cursing and more rustling from a close distance. 

“Watch your surroundings, human!” Your green-haired yelled at you, as he effortlessly pulled you to your feet. The way he scanned your person, you almost made the mistake to think he was worried about you and you almost felt warm over that non-existent concern. 

Both of you perked up to the sound of footsteps and turned to another pair of soldiers in front of you. To your luck, there were some of the soldiers that often taunted you. 

“Hah, it’s the halfling and the leech.” The soldier sneered and started to run towards the two of you, using the course as an excuse for violence. 

“Hmph, you’re no match for me.” But before Sebek could charge, you pulled him back with all your strength. It causes the tall soldier to stumble back and lean onto you, your hands on his chest and waist. You didn’t take notice, but Sebek felt a startlingly warm sensation with his heightened senses feeling your closeness to his sturdy figure, his skin burning where your hands lay flat on him.

“W-What are you doing, human! How dare you-“ 

Yells interrupted Sebek’s embarrassed tirade as the two foolish soldiers disappeared, with a large hole in front of you and Sebek. Cautiously, you stepped towards the manmade hole to see your “comrades,” bruised but alive for the most part. 

“Pit traps… should have known that the commander would pull some looney tune crap.” Pulling out a few pellets, you threw it straight at the trapped men and dusted them with your color. “Man, that’s cathartic.” 

You turned to your partner, who was staring at the pit which he nearly ran straight into. You were worried that the prideful half-fae was actually scared before he scared you instead with revigored energy. 

“Of course, the great Lilia would challenge us to the fullest. I will not fail his faith in us!” He then sharply looked to you with a satisfied smirk. “Impressive, human. I commend your sharp eye, but I will not fall for such traps from now on!” 

“Pfft, what was I thinking he’d be scared?” You thought, chuckling to yourself. It just wasn’t Sebek to back out of a challenge regardless of how insane or stupid it was. This training course was no better than a paintball game, but the straightforward Sebek would give his all no matter what. 

“It’s almost cute.” Keeping that last tidbit to yourself, you started walking towards your partner. “Well, let’s keep going. Like you said, we’re wasting time.” 

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Question for you; how do you think the rest of the war would have shaken up if Jake had actually killed Tom in #31?

I'm sure Jake's home life and ability to lead would be impacted, possibly Rachel too. And the whole end of the series would definitely be different.

Would to Yeerks even notice that Tom + his yeerk are gone? Since they pretty much sentence that yeerk to death anyway

Okay, so let's be clear: it wouldn't be Jake killing Tom. It'd be Marco. Jake spends the entire book alternately fucking up (e.g. demorphing in broad daylight 10' from Tom) and begging Tobias to tell him what to do. Marco spends the entire book actually leading the damn Animorphs. When it comes down to the wire, Jake stands there and has a (fully understandable) panic attack while Marco runs around coordinating not only Plan A to land Tom in the hospital but Plan B to kill him, and possibly Plan C to burn the house down.

So. Marco kills Tom, thereby saving Steve's life and also the planet.

• Jake falls apart. Saving Tom has been his reason for existence since the first battle, his only guiding star during the worst of the war. Not only did he lose his brother, but he tore his family apart.

• Marco falls apart. There are very few people Marco loves, but he would burn down the world for the sake of those few. And in the span of a few weeks, Marco has murdered one of those people, destroyed the life of the other. This war isn't worth it anymore. Maybe the yeerks deserve to have the planet, because there's nothing here worth saving.

• Rachel tries to keep the fight going, Tobias and Ax her only support. They've given up so much for this war already, and it'd be a disservice to every damn human on the planet to call it quits now. Every damn human includes Tom, for the record.

She held him down, a hand over his nose and mouth, knees on his chest, until Marco had forced him fully under the water. Together they leaned their weight onto his body, together they pressed him into the mud, until at last he stopped struggling. Then they left him there, floating face-down in the shallows, and staggered back to the woods to try and scrub the filthy water from their bodies.

Rachel's pretty sure Marco didn't see the tiny shape dart away from the side of Tom's head into the dark water beyond, in the half-second before he went limp. It was a fish. An eel. It was nothing at all. She saw nothing.

She dreams, often, about that nothing.

• Cassie stays on the team for now, because she won't consign all of humanity to die. But her friendship with Rachel is fraying at the seams. They snap at each other often, hang out rarely. Cassie worries about Rachel, and Rachel about Cassie, more than either one of them will say out loud.

• Tom was nobody. A dumb kid in the wrong place at the wrong time. The yeerk who died that day, on the other hand? That guy was everything, for the war.

• Tobias escapes the Community Center, and a yeerk called Sub-Visser Fifty-One inside a girl called Taylor, with seconds to spare. There was a mission to destroy the Anti-Morphing Ray, and it almost succeeded. Rachel doesn't have Marco's strategic mind, Jake's cold willingness to sacrifice a friend. She burns the building to the ground to try and destroy the prototype.

It doesn't work. In fact, it backfires — by the end of the month, Visser Three has quadrupled the budget for the devices.

The second generation is smaller than the first, more agile. So it's only two weeks before the inevitable happens.

• «Prince Jake,» Ax says, landing on his windowsill. «We must evacuate you and your family immediately. The yeerks have seen Rachel in her demorphed form, and it will not be long before they connect her to you.»

Jake sits up in bed, which seems to take an age. "They know." He probably means it as a question, but it comes out monotone.

«Yes,» Ax says. «They know. They are likely already on their way.»

"Oh." Jake turns over onto his side, curling into a ball. "Okay, then. Let them come."

«Yeah.» The gorilla shoulders open the door to Jake's closet, lumbering across the room. «We were afraid you were going to say that.» Grabbing Jake around the waist, Marco slings him over one shoulder and heads for the stairs.

• Jake, in true Jake fashion, becomes the one to explain to his parents what actually happened to Tom. Not a freak accident. Not a product of stress and bad decisions and swimming alone. Nothing to do with the empty whisky bottle Cassie thought to plant near the shore, hating herself for having thought of it.

• While the others languish in the hork-bajir valley, Rachel and Cassie take the morphing cube and travel to the San Dimas Hospital's long-term recovery ward. They travel to the San Luis Obispo School for the Blind. They travel to community centers and closed workshops, and they recruit all the help they can get.

The number of Animorphs doubles, then triples.

The number of controllers increases one hundredfold.

• Cassie broaches it just once. "Tobias," she says. He's the only one left she can trust, it seems like. "You remember what happened with Aftran? How we were able to help her, so that she didn't have to fight anymore?"

But of course it doesn't work. Tobias respects her enough to call for a vote, that's it. Rachel is flatly against. Ax is so betrayed that Cassie would even float the suggestion, he flees to the far side of the valley and won't speak to her for weeks.

"I can see where you're coming from," Marco, of all people, says to her. "But there are too many ways it could go wrong."

"I know," Cassie says miserably. "I know."

"If..." Marco looks toward where Ax went, checking he's gone. "If it comes to peace negotiations. I think we should offer. In exchange for being left alone. But until then, we can't afford to risk our biggest advantage."

"You're right," Cassie says. "And thanks for thinking about it."

Jake is technically there for this entire conversation. At one point he even lifts his head halfway, when Cassie reaches out to put a hand on his arm.

• Visser Three declares open war on Earth. The first nuclear bombs fall the following day.

• Mass evacuations of human-controllers are going on as quickly as the yeerks' ships can move. Rachel and Ax sneak on board one Pool ship transport, sabotaging its engines so that it spirals out of control while still in atmosphere.

It's a double victory: the Pool ship slams into a Blade ship on its wild wavering trajectory. All in all over 100,000 controllers die in the crash.

It's a half victory. Only Ax makes it home.

• War-Prince Asculan-Semitur-Langor declares war on Earth. Antarctica disappears in a flash, and Australia is swallowed by the sea.

• James Bly, Commander-in-Chief of the Earth Resistance, sues for peace. He surrenders the skies to the andalites, surrenders the forests to the taxxons. He surrenders 10% of the surviving human population to the Yeerk Empire.

• Quarantine, the andalites assure James. Just for now. Just to keep the yeerks contained. It's only a quarantine.

[crestfallenyh]

ateez reaction: s/o asking them to stay/not to go in their sleep.

cw: mainly fluff slash angst for everyone and a tiny bit of suggestive content on wooyoung’s part. non-gendered terms for reader. yunho’s one is a bit longer than i intended it to be. basically a self indulgent piece because i’ve been in my feelings as of late.

07. hongjoong

it was late at night. it was one of those days where the night was so heavy with its silence and lack of light that you couldn’t hear a single noise coming from the streets. not the chatter of the young enjoying the night life, not the sounds of cars passing by, not even the sound of the wind hitting the windows. hongjoong walked down the hallway after running upstairs as silently as he could and finally entered your apartment, half wincing in response to the sharp tingling of his jewelry and the chirp coming from the door that inevitably broke the deep silence the room was in.

he found you sound asleep, curled in a ball on the couch and with a blanket half escaping from your grasp. he couldn’t help but notice the light frown and the heavy eye bags on your face, and the familiar sting of guilt hit him with force. he had promised he would be with you early that night, as he only needed to give the final touches to his newest music but just like many other times, he found himself immersed in his work and by the time he looked at the time, it was already past midnight. he felt bad. the worst part is that you were always so understanding and sweet to him, never taking it to heart although he know how worried you were seeing him visibly stressed and tired. he loved you, truly. for that and many other reasons, but each time he promised he would be with you and failed, he found himself thinking more and more that you would inevitably get tired and leave.

he laid down beside you, holding you close to his chest as gently as he could without waking you up. it was slightly uncomfortable as his back was pressed against the couch in a not so nice position but it wasn’t that bad after all, because you were there. you were finally in his arms and he felt like he could breathe again. he caressed your cheek with his thumb and you snuggled closer in your sleep. he tried to get up to take you to bed with him but you groaned, the frown getting deeper as your arms tightened around his waist.

"stay here a little bit longer, please. i missed you”

hongjoong remained silent, biting his lip and forcing down the small cry his throat so desperately wanted to let out. right then and there he promised to himself he would try harder to be there, for you.

03. seonghwa

if there was one thing seonghwa was grateful about was the opportunity to take his music to every corner of the world and showcase his artistry to millions of people. it had been his dream for so long that now that it was happening, he couldn’t help but tear up at the thought of his younger self who used to watch performances from seniors and daydream about succeeding one day. it was a good life, indeed. but with every good thing comes a sacrifice, and to be honest, it was more difficult with everyday that passed and he wasn’t with you. he had went on tour for almost three months now, and the mere thought of you was enough to leave him with a heavy heart and the crushing sensation of a missing piece.

ever since you formalized your relationship you were used to sleep together everyday, whether it was at his dorm or at your place, you hadn’t gone one day without waking up with his arms around your body and you were nowhere as fine as you'd often say in your texts or video calls in order not to worry him. he was having the same problem, but none of you wanted to make each other worried or make the longing even worse by letting the other know how badly you missed his hugs and he missed the scent of your hair, so the first time he came back, you couldn't help but jump right into his arms and cling onto him despite how tired you were after waiting for his flight to arrive, anxiously pacing on your living room with glossy eyes from the lack of sleep.

his hair was dyed black comparing to the last time you saw him in all his blonde beauty and his body felt different under your embrace, a little slender but more firm, but it was still your seonghwa. the same guy who would hug your hips so tight that you were grasping at his jacket, sitting on the couch, and the same guy who would whisper sweet nothings to your ear while rocking your bodies back and fort to help you sleep. soft, like a wave in the ocean.

"you're here" you mumbled under your breath, not fully awake anymore. it was your way to say just how much you missed him and how much you never wanted to leave his side.

23. yunho

your head was pounding and a silence so heavy had settled in the room after the last couple of hours. you didn’t know where yunho was and it was only you laying in bed. the tears had dried now on your face, but you still felt inconsolable, a different type of dispair running through your veins and making you anxious.

it hadn’t been a good day. it hadn’t been a good day in the slightest and you had just started to realize how messed up everything was. you and yunho had been fighting the whole time he had been at your place, many days of nitpicking and bickering at each other way too seriously for it to be a joke had taken a toll on you and you both had finally snapped. your relationship had gone downhill as of late, where even the smallest of things would make him frown at you and even the smallest of things would make you throw a slightly scathing word at him, making both of you so annoyed so as to forget why you had even gotten into a relationship in the first place.

if somebody were to ask you, you would never be able to pinpoint the exact moment you started to feel him drift away from you or the moment he could tell you just weren’t as happy around him anymore. it wasn’t a lack of love, that was for sure, but the differences in your character started to become more visible and to catch up to you. it was difficult as you couldn’t see him as much anymore and he swore you would be unreachable anytime he tried to get closer again. it all had snowballed and you were now here.

you heard the front door close and you turned around just in time to see yunho reenter the room. that wasn’t usual either. he had gone away to calm down almost an hour ago, and usually he would be the one insisting on talking things out in the moment. you were wary and scared deep inside, wondering if things were broken beyond repair but now that he was back, you felt his presence ease some of your worries. your eyes were so puffy and red from crying and his voice was hoarse from arguing, but still, none of you was willing to give up on the idea of sleeping together. no matter how horrible the fight had been, you both unconsciously knew you'd be better if you knew how the other was doing. even the lingering idea of breaking things up for good could never make you prefer sleeping alone.

that didn’t make things any easier, however. yunho laid down until the clock marked four in the morning, he hadn’t slept much and the lack of touching was almost physically painful. you were so close but he couldn’t reach you. at some point he stood up to the bathroom and by the time he came back he found your hand on his side of the bed and your cheeks wet with tears, but you were still fast asleep.

yunho was worried and he hurried back to bed when he heard your pained cry for him not to leave and the calling of his name. seeing you like that was enough to make him snap out of his angered daze. how could things go this far? how could he not notice how much you wanted to fix everything when it was obvious that even on your sleep you were still longing for him? how could he hurt you when you were the person he loved the most, that he cared about the most? yunho wrapped his arms around your frame and kissed the top of your head. you were still crying softly, slightly awake now that he was holding you so close to his body.

“i’m never leaving, you hear me?,” yunho’s voice brought some comfort to you, firm as it always was, “i’ll stay with you”

15. yeosang

it was a typical evening with your boyfriend and his group at his dorm after helping wooyoung and seonghwa cook some dinner and cleaning up the kitchen.

since the group divided into three different dorms, it was not uncommon for them to find a way to be together at home even after being together the entire day, filming and practicing, and most of the times you were there just hanging out with your partner, so now you were all scattered in the living room, some of them talking and playing games, some of them focused on the drama episode airing on the tv. you on the other hand were laying on the couch with your head on yeosang’s lap and his hand running through your hair after talking his ear out and teaming up with san for a while just to lovingly annoy your boyfriend with your antics. it was like a switch had shifted on you, one moment going on and on about your day and every little thought that crossed your mind and then not even a minute after, as silent as you could get, tired and almost completely falling asleep on him.

truth to be told, yeosang was already flustered and his bright pink cheeks were an indicator of it, same as everytime your displays of affection occurred in front of the boys and it became even worse because when he tried to get up and bring a blanket for you, you hugged his legs and buried your face on his thigh with a half asleep whine, earning everyone's curious gaze.

"baby, it's cold. I'll be right back"

you shook your head, and that’s when he knew you were still not fully conscious because if you were, you would be equally as flustered.

"no, don't leave me"

almost everyone scoffed, some of them going back to their business and some of them standing up to give you some privacy in case you wanted to sleep for real. yeosang gave up with a big sigh and ignoring yunho’s smirk, he lifted up your head only for a moment before sliding a cushion under it and hugging your shoulders from behind.

10. san

it was date night at your place, one of the very few times he had a day off and could spend as many hours as he wanted with you and the comfort of your hugs, and san could not be more excited, or at least he was until you started discussing your plans for the evening an actually acted on them.

you had insisted a lot in watching a horror movie despite his constant efforts to convince you to watch a romantic comedy instead, because despite claming out loud that he wasn't afraid of these type of movies, he knew his own body would betray him. he prided himself on being a tough guy, always in touch with his feelings but also very capable of protecting you and acting strong for you, but he also wasn’t afraid of admitting how little of a fan of horror he was. for the entirety of your relationship you had never been in this kind of situation and he was starting to get nervous, shifting on his seat as the starting credits started to roll in and the unsettling music from the film reached his ears.

little did he knew that after around one hour, you would be the one screaming at jumps cares, and he would be the one laughing at your reactions. he didn't want to be mean, so he wouldn't tease you too much, but even after it ended you were still trembling, eyes wide open and flushed cheeks as you reminisced some of the worst scenes in the movie. because of that, he wasn't at all surprised when in the middle of the night you straddled his lap and asked him to hug you tight and never let go. just in case the ghost from that movie would appear to take your souls, you know.

he laughed, of course. he pinched your cheek with a teasing glint in his eyes but still hugged your body so you could rest with your head in the crook of his neck.

09. mingi

mingi liked everything about you. from the way you talked with such passion about the topics you were interested in to the way you couldn’t hide the selflessness and kindness in your soul, he loved you for who you are. he always claimed that you cannot love someone based on what they do for you without loving them for their actual personality and way of thinking, and he truly loved those aspects of you. he wouldn’t lie, however. he also loved the way you treated him and went out of your way to care for him.

he knew how difficult his choice of career was in terms of social relationships. he didn’t have many friends outside from his childhood and celebrity friends because not everyone understood that, sometimes, he couldn’t be there as much as he would love to. that’s why it had been such a dealbreaker when he found you and realized that not only you were willing to understand and compromise, but you were also willing to be there and show up for him at every instance. he was the luckiest, and these type of thoughts filled his head whenever he saw you, like that day, late at night at the filming set. you had brought snacks for his staff and the other boys and had waited sitting patiently for him, even after the filming got delayed twice and everyone had left except for him and a couple of cameramen.

he was the last to film and he was worried about you, waiting for so long in the cold. hongjoong had brought you a blanket to cover yourself before and all of them had offered you a ride home, but you insisted on staying. as he made his way to you and crouched down to your height, he couldn’t help but notice the purplish undertone on your lips and the slight trembling of your hands even when asleep. mingi held your hands on his and your eyelids fluttered open for a second. you noticed the way his stern gaze wandered over your face and body and a faint smile made its way to your lips.

“you were amazing out there,” voice a little hoarse, and mingi’s thumb started to caress the back of your hand, “are you going back now?”

he shook his head and clutched his hand to your thigh, still worried but a little bit more at ease now that you were talking, “no, we’re done. we’re going to the dorm now, and you’re coming with me”

“good. i’ve missed you a lot, stay with me now”

mingi flashed a soft smile before standing up and taking you home with him.

26. wooyoung

it was a special night for more than one reason. wooyoung was happy to no extent, just like every time he got to spend time with you away from all your other friends and his own group mates.

you had been friends with wooyoung for longer than you could recall. your relationship had had the most ups and downs in all history of relationships because not only had he been super secretive about his real feelings for you, but you were also the most stubborn person ever and refused to accept the possibility of him liking you half as much as you liked him. in your head, it was simply not possible that someone like him would want to be with you, and it was not that you didn’t have a good self esteem, it was just that for you, his job and current lifestyle was far away from yours to truly connect.

that night you had opened up to him after impulsively kissing him on your kitchen, frustrated as you were with his mixed signals and uncertainty. he hadn’t stopped you, equally as eager as you to show you just how badly he had wanted to do exactly that, but it hadn’t stopped at a kiss, not at all. you ended up doing everything you had ever imagined and even more and now you were cuddled under clean bedsheets, thoughts still racing on your mind although your eyes were almost closed. you were using his arm as a pillow and since he had been patting your head for what felt like hours and your body was so tired after the past events you were so sleepy.

"can you please stay today?"

he almost didn't catch your words, still clouded with bliss from knowing you felt the same about him but the moment he did realize, he felt painfully aware of the fact you asked him to stay after sharing such an intimate experience and for a second he wondered what could've possibly happened to you that made you think he would just go. he tried to push away those thoughts in favour of caressing your face and assuring you, wearing his signature teasing smirk with a pinch of playful affection in his eyes that softened his whole expression. you had never seen him like this. your hair was scattered all over your face in an attempt to hide from his intense gaze and you looked incredibly cute to him, especially because you were breathing more slowly and he noticed how badly you were fighting your sleep. at times you were still so shy around him and he loved it, really.

"i would never leave, doll face"

12. jongho

being jongho’s partner wasn’t for the faint of heart. he was known for liking strolling around the streets and being busy, wether he was working or having a date with you so most of the times, your plans consisted of going out to eat and discover new places on your city, all while he was super chatty and sweet with you. as his partner you were always happy that he was the type to include you as much as he could in everything he did. as a homebody though, you were also happy whenever you got to stay at home with him. that night was one of those nights.

you had been cuddling for hours on end while watching movies, snacking on everything you could find and just overall hanging out with your boyfriend after a long day at work, and because you were so tired you fell asleep on his chest. he was surprised but didn’t move right away, just taking in the image of your tranquil face just resting, as pretty as he thought you were. something like that had never happened because the two of you had always been careful around each other since your relationship was fairly new and you hadn't sleep at each other's place just yet. he knew he wanted to, especially now after seeing you so adorable in his arms with your warm body so close to his, but he just couldn't ignore the sting on his chest at the thought of maybe making you uncomfortable if he just let it slide and fell asleep too. he knew a lot about you already, and trusted you enough to know what type of reaction you would have, but just in case, he didn’t want to overstep any boundary.

he was about to wake you up so he could get up and let you rest on your own bed, but you tightened your arms around his waist and his face flushed red when he caught your sleepy eyes looking back at him. soft eyelashes brushing against soft cheeks with every slow blink and jongho’s heartbeat could be heard by anyone a mile around. he had been so busy looking at your face and the way you body just seemed to fit perfectly against his that he didn’t noticed when you woke up.

"maybe stay tonight?"

he swore his heart melted.

[nhaneh]

@idalenn kea may be smol but she is stronk!

So I have thoughts on miqo'te tails, yeah? Like I don't think they're directly prehensile - in fact I think the lore directly speaks against that possibility with occasional statements like "ain't that just the way the tail curls"? But given how miqo'te also canonically use their tails to help with balance and agility much like real world felines, those tails are inevitably going to have both mass and muscle to them.

Now sure, we're not talking arm wrestling muscle here - they are neither monkey tails nor elephant trunks, but they still have enough heft to be able to impart momentum? Let's look at a fairly well-known clip of a cheetah as an example.

During that sequence the cheetah goes from a left-leaning banked turn into a right-leaning banked turn, and then back to a left-leaning banked turn again, and in both cases it starts the transition by first shooting the tail out to the side and swinging it in a half-circle rotation in the opposite direction that it's rotating its body. By doing so, it's effectively using its tail as a reaction wheel, using its rotational momentum to help counter that imparted on its body, helping it maintain the stability and traction to stay upright rather than fall over on its side.

Let's take another example, this time of a leopard!

If you look closely, you can see how the tail starts shooting upwards just as the front paws push off from the ground, only to then swing downwards at the apex of the jump in order to impart just that little bit extra rotational momentum to keep pushing the pelvis upwards.

During high energy motion, the tail basically operates a bit like a counterweight, imparting both stability to keep upright as well as extra momentum to jump just a little bit higher, reach just a little bit further, turn just a little bit faster. And none of this is particularly exclusive to felines - you can look at pretty much any animal with a tail with enough size and mass to be used to aid in stability and you'll likely see much of the same kinds of motions and behaviour - it's ultimately much more a question of how physics work than how cats work.

Of course, this means that you could also easily imagine some miqo'te being notoriously clumsy and prone to falling over due to the motor control for their tail being a bit jank and often ending up doing the precise opposite, imparting instability rather than helping to keep them upright, or other awkward issues like their tails being prone to push chairs away from them when they try to sit down.

Thing is, too, most of our limb control is actually pretty automatic - it's usually pretty rare to find yourself directly thinking about where exactly each hand and foot and arm and leg is or what it is doing, you just do the thing without putting all that much thought or focus into it. In fact, one of the key aspects of proficiency in mechanical tasks, whether that is driving a car or typing on a keyboard or even just walking somewhere, is reaching the point where the actions become so much of a practiced routine that they no longer take up a notable amount of cognitive load. Most of the time, a tail would be just another limb running on autopilot - you might be able to physically direct it like you might an arm or a leg if you focus on it, but most of the time it'll just do what it does, whether that is to help maintain balance and stability, or to communicate and express yourself, or even randomly be a nuisance.

And I figure for most miqo'te, a lot of this is just things they learn pretty early during childhood without thinking about it or having to be taught how it works - it's like how you don't have to think about the righting reflex to help keep yourself upright, it just kicks in to do its thing.

Chances are there would probably also be certain kinds of quirks and habits you might see in some miqo'te depending on what kind of environment they're used to or were brought up in - a miqo'te that's used to cramped crowds might be much more likely to have an unconscious habit to keep their tails close to themselves, while one that's spent most of their lives in more open spaces with plenty of uncertain footing might instead have their tails move about more openly, never more than a twitch away from trying to counter a stumble or fall.

I realize this is a lot of paragraphs simply to say that yeah I definitely think Kea has a fair bit of strength in that tail of hers; underneath the floof it's nearly all bone and muscle, and likely takes up at least a couple of percent of her total body mass - quite possibly even comparable to that of an arm. It might not have the rigidity necessary to impart or resist force or impact the way an arm or a leg can, and I don't think it could support her full weight, but there's definitely some strength behind it.

[eggluverz]

A STARE WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS

PAIRING. dan feng x gn!reader

WORD COUNT. 1.4k

SUMMARY. you and dan feng were just friends. close comrades who challenged each other. but you were starting to suspect that just friends don't stare at each other like this...

NOTE: dan feng on the brain !!!! i was looking thru some writing prompts and there was a list of friends to lovers that inspired meeee :> i hope y'all enjoy this lil dan feng drabble!! :o ~sof

It wasn’t always easy being a friend of the esteemed High Cloud Quintet, but it sure was fun. In a group of warriors and leaders, some of your morals seemed to go against the grain. With your more pacifist approach, you preferred healing and mediating disagreements rather than resorting to a clash of the swords.

Still, you were not young with folly such as before. You understood there was a time and place for everything and, sometimes, war was inevitable in this world. You could only sigh to yourself, wishing it weren’t so.

But while battles waged on, you at least wanted to help those wounded trying to fight for what was right—no matter how misguided you thought their approach was.

Dan Feng was someone you chose to confide in. The great warrior, the Imbibitor Lunae, somehow empathized with your inner conflicts more than you would have expected him to. He may have been a cutthroat, fearless leader, but he was also gentle and thoughtful, pondering whether or not the ends truly justified the means in between brutal battles. 

The people he led could never see that ever-questioning side of him. Nor could he ever find the vulnerability to show them. That was something he reserved only for the closest of friends. 

That was something he reserved only for you. 

You let out a deep breath after a long day of work, smiling only to greet Dan Feng who had asked you to meet up with him over dinner.

“Like a date,” Baiheng sang with a grin when you had told her the previous day.

Your cheeks flushed at the memory. Two friends could certainly partake in evening consumption of sustenance together without it being a date, you had reminded her. And yourself. 

“Sure, but do just friends stare into each other’s eyes for seconds too long like you two do?”

With a small laugh and a shake of your head, you brought yourself back to present time with Dan Feng.

“Good evening,” you greeted with a wave. “Have you been waiting long?”

“I have been left alone here all day waiting for your arrival,” he jested with a dramatic sigh, one corner of his mouth tilting upwards to let you know he was only joking.

“Of course,” you played along, “I do not doubt that the great Imbibitor Lunae has plenty of time to spare waiting about.”

“For you? Most certainly.” 

You fought a grin off your face at his kindness. Dan Feng truly was a good person, always putting his friends first. For a moment, you wondered how much more thoughtful he would be towards a partner—towards someone he had romantic feelings for. But you did not allow yourself to entertain those thoughts for too long. After all, you had food to eat. 

“I requested your favorite dish,” he said as the meal came to your table. Establishments in which private outdoor dining was an accommodation were not common in your area, so you and Dan Feng often frequented the one closest to you. It was no strange feat for him to commit your favorite dish to memory. “I hope I did not overstep, but it was getting dark out and I know you tend to grow rather famished at this hour.”

You smiled as the scent of the food in front of you wafted through the air, causing your stomach to grumble quietly. “I appreciate your preparation, Dan Feng. You aren’t overstepping in the slightest.”

In fact, you quite liked that Dan Feng went out of his way to ensure you would have food to eat by the time you arrived for dinner. He was right— You were running late today and you were rather peckish by the time you had arrived. It was a simple act of kindness, and you were grateful for it. 

Dan Feng really was nice to his friends. 

If you did not have a good head on your shoulders, you might have let your emotions confuse the situation and misread his intentions towards you. He simply was a good friend to you and the High Cloud Quintet, though in moments of delusion you felt yourself imagining more. 

Especially moments of delusion fueled by the unnerving stare on his face directed right at you. Unnerving in a positive sense, of course. 

Unnerving in a way of not being able to understand the depth of emotions behind those bright eyes of his. Unnerving enough to pique your curiosity and want to learn just what that stare meant. 

The certain stare he was giving you right now. 

Was he looking at you like a confidant? A scholar to share his pacifist literature with? A friend? A lover? 

If Dan Feng noticed your inner turmoil, all he did was smile. It was a smile that said he knew exactly what was running through your mind. His piercing gaze stayed locked on yours as he tilted his head and took a sip of tea. 

Unable to help yourself, you blurted, “Do you intend to look at me in such a way?”

An expression of delighted amusement formed on his face before he regained his stoic composure. “In what manner are you referring to, my dear?”

Your heart stirred in confusion at his affectionate words. This High Elder truly had a disarming effect on you.

“Such as how you are staring at me right now!” you cried, feeling rather indignant. “It is how you’ve been staring at me for the past few months, even. It— It bewilders me!”

“And how, exactly, am I staring at you?” he pushed, a confident smile on his lips as he awaited your answer. 

“You are staring at me…as if you want me.”

His eyes widened for a brief moment, like he was shocked you gave in to his teasing and prodding this time. 

“You keep staring at me like that, and treating me in a special manner… You should be careful, Dan Feng,” you said with a sigh, slowly bringing your utensils to your mouth. Before biting, you stated, “You could confuse even the most refined of individuals that way, are you aware?”

He studied you before asking, “As an esteemed and refined Vidyadhara yourself, what do you find confusing?”

“Whether I am reading your intentions incorrectly or not,” you said, no longer bothering to hide you frustration. 

“It is not my desire to confuse you,” promised Dan Feng, a genuine look on his face as you finally met his gaze again. “For that, I apologize sincerely.”

Your stomach churned in dejected understanding. “Thank you for the apologize. It is okay.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t have gotten ahead of yourself and confused his kindness for interest. You shoved the food around on your plate, trying to downplay your disappointment that Dan Feng did not desire you after all.

At your lackluster response, he cleared his throat. He looked at your downcast expression and frowned. “Perhaps I am not making myself clear enough. Believe me, you are certainly not misinterpreting my intentions.”

Your eyes widened at his clarification. “Meaning…?”

“I do want you.” Dan Feng set his teacup down with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I admire your strength and your intellect. Your desire for peace and your willingness to do what is right. You are nuanced and complex and, at times, even oblivious,” he smiled at the thought of you misunderstanding his initial confession, “and you are my close friend I have found myself getting more and more drawn to.”

Giggles bubbled up from inside you, more so in excitement than in amusement. If it weren’t unbecoming of an unpartnered Vidyadhara to show public displays of affection, you would have ran over to Dan Feng and given him a hug by now. 

“I want you, too, Dan Feng,” is what you said instead. “You are cunning and sharp, yet understanding and gentle. Your thoughtfulness is inspiring and I have never met anyone more loyal than you.” 

The apples of his cheeks tinged the lightest pink you had ever seen, and you fought the urge to continuously shower him with more compliments.

“You’re the only one I could confide my potentially treasonous thoughts in,” you laughed while he nodded with amusement. Your gaze softened as your tone grew more serious. “You are one of my best friends, but I can envision a road in which we are more than that, even— Lovers.”

If he was surprised at all, he did not show it. 

“That is the path I would prefer to take.” Dan Feng extended his hand from across the table as if it were a mere offering to your boundless grace. “Do you desire to take it with me?”

“With you?” you repeated, slipping your hand into his with a smile. “Most certainly.”