#so why wouldn’t he take their last orders seriously?

[the-maid-of-witchwood]

My good friend, gimme your Steph and her ships headcanons

But of course!

Solo headcanons:

Steph was a hidden pregnancy, nobody knew she was there until her mom (Georgina) went into labour - her parents didn’t want children

Becky was one of her first nannies but only lasted a couple months as Solomon found her really soft and annoying, so as soon as Georgina died, she was fired

She and Grace first met as babies but neither of them know it

Steph was a pretty spoiled child

Shop is her favourite class and the only one she’s consistently getting good marks/attendance for

Mr. Houston is her favourite teacher

Is part of the Smoke Club but isn’t frequently there as much these days

Had a very big Heathers phase, still kinda does

She also had a Hunger Games phase before that and got really into archery, took up classes. Her aim is extraordinarily sharp

She’s actually really athletic and good at a handful of sports, she just doesn’t really bother in school anymore

She is a really avid music listener but cannot read sheet music or play instruments for shit

Really into rock specifically

The online girlie™

Loves horror - films, TV shows, games - and has always been really invested in creepypasta

May or may not have told some scary stories to the Monroe boys’ at the country club and scared them shitless

Seriously, if Steph was in charge of the prank, she could have given Max a heart attack

Is actually really good at debate because her father made her take classes and she gets plenty of practice when getting involved in internet drama

Clearly wins a lot of arguments against him now that she’s older, which gives her the power and cockiness to just wave away his influence and orders (until he gets at her phone of course)

She also is really good at politics

She’s actually really close with Jason and Kyle - childhood friends, basically her older brothers

Cheats at games

Is the “Dakota” in their group’s DND (see StarKid Rolls the Dice)

She’s dyslexic

Was diagnosed late in high school as Solomon was convinced she was just stupid and making excuses as to why she couldn’t do her work

Steph and Miss Tessburger do secretly care about each other. Neither will admit it. Wouldn’t go as far as mother-and-daughter relationship, but definitely tone their bitchiness (to each other) down if they notice the other is having a bad day

Steph puts her money into crypto. Sorry, I can’t imagine Solomon knows what it is or why he’d bother with something so silly

Fidgets with her rings a lot

Is really confident in her own skin, as she should be because she is so beautiful and literally has the school falling after her

Is actually a really good photographer

Her Insta page is undeniably killer

Someone get this girl a proper camera though because the phone can only do so much

In middle school, she, Brenda and Stacy did wear pink every Wednesday

She is incredibly well travelled - having had the money to go anywhere and her father only taking the best holidays - and she really enjoys travelling

One of the taller girls

Claims she doesn’t do dressing up because it’s lame, but gets really into Halloween

Flawless makeup and hair always

People haven’t seen her otherwise for years

Once bribed Grace to let her paint her nails in exchange for having to listen to Grace tell her about the bible. They keep doing this. Steph wipes it all off at the end of the school day so Grace doesn’t get in trouble with her parents

Has a lot of opinions on Spotify Wrapped (both general and hers specifically)

She and Zoey are near identical, leading to the latter always getting mistaken for Steph (as the more well known of the two because local celebrity, the Mayor’s daughter) but Steph has been mistaken for Zoey once or twice by Sam. Kicks him every time

Doesn’t like fake nails

Is a very physical person, especially when showing love

Spends a lot of money on her loved ones

The most competitive person

Lautity:

Pan for pan!

Steph makes a lot of corny pan related jokes, Grace finds them really funny

Again, Grace fell first, Steph fell harder

Steph tries going to church with Grace but really struggles with it

She will, however, attend events at church (bake sales, charity auction, etc) and just messes with the pastors by asking silly questions

Insert Mariah’s “Yah, Father!” here

Is probably Mark and Karen’s least favourite person for that reason

Don’t worry, she gets on really well with Grace’s aunt, Lucy. These bitches talk so much gossip and shit on Grace’s parents (and the Jerries because fuck them)

It’s because of Lucy they met as babies but that’s a story for another time

Grace tries watching horror for Steph but doesn’t like it, spends most of it curled up and hiding in Steph’s side. She still agrees to watch every time

Steph watches documentaries with Grace and asks her questions throughout because Grace talking about her interests is precious

The nerds help Steph write a love note for Grace

They then help Grace make a meme for Steph

Steph has tried and failed to play Grace’s flute

Steph buys Grace sheet music for the dumbest songs (Never Gonna Give You Up, Coconut Mall, All Star, the Mii song, etc) and has her play them for the group, forcing the nerds to listen to them and then tell Grace how good she is

Ruth makes them go see Wicked together as a friend group, purely to have Grace and Steph unknowingly go as Elphaba and Glinda by just wearing their regular clothes/colours. Steph, having definitely seen stuff for the film is prepared, they both show up dressed as completely different movie characters

(Steph went as Jessica Rabbit and Grace went as Sleeping Beauty)

They also didn’t watch the movie at all because they spent the whole time staring at each other and kissing

Burnerphone (Lex x Steph):

The only Steph ship where she loses her dominance

Lex won’t put up with her entitled, rich girl bullshit and will tell her when she’s being a brat

Steph will be more of a brat in the hopes of getting told off for it in the bedroom

They knew of each other when Lex was still in school and interacted in passing but that was about it

They met later through Ziggs at a party

Smoking buds

Lex gets on fairly well with Steph’s friends, though they are awkward because Lex is the epitome of “older, cool college girlfriend” in spite of not in college

Steph smuggles Lex into all the senior events they missed (homecoming, lock in, ditch day, prom, graduation) - probably bought Grace off to keep her quiet about it

Same music tastes

Gets on really well with Hannah

Steph doesn’t really do kids but she makes an exception here

Sends Hannah a photo of a random spider she finds almost every day with the caption “dude, is this ur webby?”

She has absolutely dragged Pamela for filth, if not gotten physical, in most of their interactions

Pamela is convinced Lex is dating Steph just for money

Steph only goes to Toy Zone to flirt with Lex and annoy the fuck out of Frank by shooting him with a nerf gun

Lex isn’t comfortable with a lot of fancy, expensive dates, so they usually just drive out somewhere quiet and have a picnic together

Steph convinces Lex to audition for plays in Hatchetfield

Firephone? Firelight? I don’t know what their ship name is or if they even have one but (Brooke x Steph):

Essentially the more chaotic, less chill and pyromaniac version of Burnerphone

They are Grace’s worst nightmare and honestly Miss Mulberry’s too (and half the HFFD and HFPD)

Smoking buds

Brooke brings out Steph’s impulsivity to its full power

Steph encourages Brooke’s don’t give a fuck attitude

Personally responsible for all the fire alarms going off in Hatchetfield High

If these two both leave to go to the bathroom together, you might as well grab your shit and head outside now

They are big time gossipers

Definitely get into the most insane situations

Seriously, playing Never Have I Ever with them is an experience because you get to hear about all their stories which are really good but totally nuts

Probably meet up when being sent to the Principal’s office, go off, make out and then come back like nothing happened

Queens of the Smoke Club

I already did Lautski and Lautskity for Pete

[starry-eyed-psychopomp]

Hey so am I like the only one who picked up on the parallel between Madame Yu and Jiang Fengmian’s last words to Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian?

Because this is what Madame Yu does:

She hugs and kisses Jiang Cheng, then turns around and tells Wei Wuxian to protect him at all costs

And this is what Jiang Fengmian does:

He strokes Jiang Cheng’s head, then turns to Wei Wuxian and tells him to protect Jiang Cheng

I cannot stress enough that these interactions happen within five pages of each other. Like, Madame Yu is harsher with Wei Wuxian than Jiang Fengmian is, but these are fundamentally the same things. They comfort Jiang Cheng like parents, then they order Wei Wuxian to protect their son.

I’ll never really believe the take that Jiang Fengmian saw Wei Wuxian as a son and favored him over Jiang Cheng because when it came down to it, these were his last words to them. He may have been kinder to Wei Wuxian than Madame Yu was, but fundamentally he never saw him as any more of his own son than she did

[honey-tongued-devil]

Got a request: Jinx x Piltover reader who comes to the undercity a lot to see some action and excitement with Jinx thinking they’re from there only to find out that they’re from topside.

[Arcane preference zaunites] with a s/o from Piltover (viktor, ekko, silco, vander, jinx, vi, sevika)

In less than a week, I’ve gained 500 followers and over 20 requests, so I’ll ask you right away to please be patient. English isn’t my first language, and I don’t think I’ll be able to post more than two or three headcanons a week (since I also draw). I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but I just ask for a little patience. In the meantime, if you’d like to support me, you can follow me HERE (bluesky) even though I haven’t started posting seriously yet, or you can leave a tip HERE. That said, enjoy!

Viktor:

- The most versatile on the subject. He’s the first one who is constantly around the people of Piltover, studying and having his room at the academy, which is even located in a wealthy area.

- Generally, he doesn’t pay much attention to someone’s origins, but as the relationship grows more serious, memories of his early academy years become more vivid.

- Viktor is a chill guy, until he’s no longer chill, (at least the original one).

- Most heated discussions are likely to revolve around politics or events in the city. But as long as you don’t call the people from the Undercity “beasts,” “creatures,” “monsters,” “beings,” or “animals,” his anger won’t be directed at you.

- At some point, he won’t remember anymore that you’re from “different neighborhoods,” and since he needs a hand carrying things to the academy, he’ll start asking you to accompany him to the Undercity when he needs to make purchases or pick up pre-ordered items.

- And although it might scare or intimidate you at first, it won’t take long for you to get used to it.

- Although sooner or later, you’ll learn to change your clothes before going down to Zaun.

Ekko:

- The first meeting with Ekko is straight out of a book: you get caught in a crossfire, and before you can even begin mentally writing your will, an arm grabs you around the torso and pulls you away at such a high speed that you feel like throwing up.

- He can’t take people directly to the hideout, but he can offer you assistance as soon as you’re somewhere safer.

- This is why, the second time he saves you, he can’t help but joke about how it almost seems like you put yourself in danger on purpose, and that you could ask him out in a less dramatic way.

- Of course, he’s just joking to break the tension, but when you actually propose it, even just as a way to repay him, it’s the beginning of the end.

- Between your outfit and the fact that, having run into you twice in a crossfire, you were in some pretty dangerous places, the last thing he expected was for you to ask him to meet up at the bridge and then show up dressed like a Piltie.

- Before his meeting with Cait and the one with Jayce, this would’ve been a breaking point; he wouldn’t have shown up and would’ve just gone back. But now, even if he’s not thrilled, he’ll at least come over to complain that you didn’t tell him you were from the upper city.

- He’s resigned to this fate, but he still remains a bit suspicious and on guard, not knowing your political stance, why you were down there, or how you see the people from his city.

- Even as you become closer, he’ll never stop teasing you about your background. You’re drinking, and you drop your cup? “What a strange way Pilties have of drinking.”

Vander:

- Going down to Zaun without stopping by the Last Drop is a waste, which is why you’re lucky enough to run into the Hound of the underground right away. Not only is he one of the most influential people, but also one with a lot of connections.

- At Vander’s suggestion, you stay at the counter, and he uses the opportunity to ask you a few questions, curious: for example, why is someone from Piltover down in Zaun alone at that hour? What do you study, if you study, or what do you do for work, if you work.

- Vander is extremely sociable, and since he handles negotiations, he doesn’t hold hostility toward upper-city residents, though it’s rare to see them in these parts.

- It’s not even about flirting; he just wants to keep chatting and make sure he won’t have you on his conscience. He asks you to wait until closing, checks in on the kids to make sure everything’s okay and says goodnight, then walks you to the bridge.

- The more regular your visits to Zaun become, the more the other regulars at the Last Drop start to recognize you and get used to you, making that place quite pleasant. And then there’s the deal with the bartender: if you offer him a good chat, he’ll treat you to a good pint of beer.

- The toughest part of getting close to Vander is learning that he’s a single father to four kids, and seeing the hostile and shocked reaction of the younger ones when they find out you’re not from their city.

- But hate is taught, and even if it takes some time, they slowly start to get used to you. Maybe they won’t jump into your arms, but if you decide to stay over, they’ll make room for you or bring you something to dry your face with, in strict silence.

Silco:

- This man, though he may not look like it, is the embodiment of patience.

- It’s his goons who bring you to his office, and the first time, all it takes is a quick glance for him to know you’re not a spy, a rival, a drug addict, or a threat.

- Silco kills, but generally not without reason. So, the first time you have a heart-pounding panic attack from being dragged there, you get off with a warning: if they catch you poking around his business again, it won’t go so well for you.

- But today, Janna’s on your side, and you’re safe.

- The issue is much simpler than it seems: if you live in the Undercity, you know which places to avoid and which gangs control which areas. But if you’re just a foolish Piltie who likes wandering outside your own city, the odds of ending up in one mess after another are high.

- That’s why, the second time they catch you near one of their shipments, his goons already have their weapons drawn.

- This time it’s not even Silco who spares you; instead, a firefight with the Firelights breaks out nearby, and you’re just lucky that bigger problems show up at the right moment.

- It happens repeatedly: either you run into his goons and instinctively wave like an idiot, or you end up in restricted areas, and one of them who’s taken a liking to you motions for you to leave, or you start frequenting the Last Drop and see them all more often.

- Gradually, this brings you more often—and with less dread—to the kingpin’s office, who, since even his daughter likes you, first makes sure to get you a map of the Lanes because “you’re obviously so clueless you must be from Piltover” to keep you from getting yourself killed.

- Then he realizes you’re pleasant enough to let you hang out in his office on weekends, when the noise downstairs is so loud that he couldn’t work anyway.

Jinx:

- You’re essentially the “dumb Piltie” stereotype that comes to mind when people in Zaun talk about those from the upper city.

- Deciding to venture into the alleys without any experience or knowledge of the area purely out of curiosity wasn’t your brightest idea, but at this point, it’s too late to turn back.

- That’s why, after hours spent looking for something interesting—colorful explosions that have been common recently near the docks, some chase scenes—you find nothing, give up, and throw yourself into a bar.

- If it were evening, you might hope for more than just a jukebox playing country music, four young guys playing pool in a corner, and a girl sitting at the bar who looks half-asleep while the bartender cleans glasses, but you still decide to sit down and order something local.

- Everyone’s eyes are on you, but the moment the girl with long blue braids lifts her head, the others snap back to what they were doing, and she looks at you, still drowsy and a bit confused.

- Meeting Jinx is the beginning of the end; she rambles on, is relaxed, and the moment she hears you wanted action, she jumps off her stool and drags you out before you can even sip your drink.

- She has no particular reason—it's just rare to find someone who wants to have fun, although you quickly realize that her idea of “fun” involves risking your neck.

- The first time ends like that; you don’t even exchange names. When it gets late, she vanishes, leaving you no choice but to return to the bar in the following weeks, where you meet her again and pick up on that fun “tour.”

- This “tour” brings you closer, even if you never talk about deeply personal things because there’s never time.

- It’s one night when you’re sitting together on a rooftop, watching the distant lights of Piltover, that she learns the hard truth: you’re from the other side of the river. This single piece of information seems to destroy everything you had built. Without a word, she runs off, and you don’t find her at the bar at the usual time anymore, but you don’t stop trying.

- The bartender probably tells her, or she sees you, who knows, because weeks later you meet again, and she almost looks sad to see you.

- She expected you to give up, not to keep coming back despite how difficult she’d made it, which is why when you pull her into a hug, she stiffens, taking a while to hug you back.

- The closer you get, the more she becomes like a ghost. You even find her at your place, but you never see her on the streets in Piltover. She rarely stays over, but you know it’s because of personal issues.

Vi:

- Vi isn’t for everyone: she’s for those with a “savior complex” or hotheads who can take a couple of punches to the face.

- The reason you’re in Zaun, dressed incognito, is because your colleagues told you there’s some interesting stuff in the underground city’s shops.

- What you didn’t expect was that the “interesting find” curled up behind an abandoned building would be a person.

- Nothing too serious, just a brawl gone wrong. She’d hidden to tend to her wounds in peace, probably in that vulnerable “cornered wolf showing its teeth” state.

- Cooperation isn’t her strong suit, and, not to rely on Undercity stereotypes, but you imagine it’s also rare for anyone to help strangers wounded on the street.

- She becomes more docile after you simply stand by, “covering her back”—basically just staying put and shielding her from view. 

- whenyou blurt out, “Forget gin; I need something stronger.” she starts to like you

- Once she recovers, she gestures for you to follow her, suddenly motivated by the urge to drink. Surprisingly, she takes you over the bridge to your own city, to a cozy pub that smells of wood.

- Drinking there becomes a habit; after a few drinks, you tell her you hate that the evening has to end, and she chuckles, flattered, before saying you can always do it again.

- And you do it again.

- You keep doing it until you end up kissing clumsily in the pub’s restroom, nearly knocking heads together, until she pins you to the wall and your brain signals a warning.

- You tell her you live nearby, suggesting you take things to your place, unknowingly revealing something you thought was obvious.

- She stares at you for a few confused seconds. “You didn’t tell me,” she says, but the truth is, Vi doesn’t hate upper-city people, so once the confusion passes, the alcohol and hormones work their magic, leaving that conversation as a problem for the next morning.

Sevika:

- Her only interactions with people from the upper city have been with Enforcers, but contrary to appearances, Sevika is a big, intimidating dog that’s actually quite tame.

- She doesn’t get her hands dirty unless necessary, so even though she has no fondness for Pilties, she’d never start a physical fight with one.

- You first see her in the Undercity, at the Last Drop, playing cards for a hefty sum of money against two shady types: one bald with a metal nose, and the other dressed like an out-of-place gentleman.

- It’s only when the game ends and she gets up to head to the bar that you clumsily manage to strike up a conversation, receiving nothing but a scrutinizing glance in return.

- She lets you buy her a drink despite the large sum she just pocketed, and when you compliment her on her play, she puffs up with pride and starts talking about how those two just cheated but still couldn’t win.

- For a moment—just a moment—she realizes she’s never seen you around here before, but then she goes back to talking and listening, fueled by the alcohol.

- Getting her out of your head becomes impossible, and if you catch her at the end of her shift, she’s even more relaxed. It doesn’t take many weeks before you find yourself with your knees over her shoulders in the Last Drop’s basement.

- Emotional or mental intimacy with Sevika comes at an incredibly slow pace, but she starts approaching you in the bar, and your “private encounters” become more and more frequent—until you try to make things more serious by inviting her up.

- Her reaction seems angry, but it’s more surprise; she hadn’t realized and didn’t expect it.

- She becomes a lot more guarded around you, until, in time, she learns to trust you again.

[evansbby]

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: stepdad!Ari Levinson x bratty!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: STEPCEST, daddy kink, dark!Ari, non-con, dub-con, age gap (reader is in college, Ari is in his forties), extremely fucked up Ari, delusional!Ari, spanking, ROUGH spanking, ass eating, ass fingering, he is literally very obsessed with her ass, swearing, misogyny, spitting, manhandling, dirty talk, condescending dirty talk, Ari also babies her A LOT, 18+, minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You stay out past curfew and your stepdad punishes you.

𝐀/𝐍: Final warning that this is extremely fucked up. Dead dove don't eat and all that. You've been warned. Enjoy.

“Where were you last night?”

Ari’s voice is loud, carrying across his study out into the hallway where you stop with a start. His door is slightly ajar, and you can see him through the crack. Sat behind his desk, his usual half-empty glass of scotch in hand.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “Out?”

“Out where?”

“I don’t need to tell you that.”

You didn’t. It’s not like Ari was your dad, although he very much tried to act like he was. He was your stepfather; your mother had married him last year. And in that time, Ari had made it clear that he was always going to be in charge. And you wouldn’t have cared if he bossed your mother around, but it was you who his attention fell on most of the time.

You were in college, and it was close enough that you were able to stay at home and commute. Well, stay at Ari’s home, since that’s where your mother had moved the two of you. And you should have realised back then – a man as powerful as Ari Levinson would only ever play by his own rules, and make sure you did too.

“You have an eleven ‘o’ clock curfew. I didn’t see you tucked in at eleven ‘o’ clock. In fact, you weren’t home well past midnight.” He takes a sip of his scotch, looking ever the ruggedly handsome man that every single woman you knew went crazy over. Seriously. Your mom, her friends, your friends. It’s like you were the only one who saw through his act. There was just something about him…

This time you do roll your eyes, “Well firstly, I don’t need to be tucked in like I’m some little schoolgirl. And second, I’m allowed to stay out as long as I like. Mom never had a problem with that, she trusts me.”

Ari’s deep blue eyes regard your carefully, and he sets his glass down before using his finger to beckon you closer. “Come here.”

“What? No, I have to go.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere without my permission, sweetheart. Now I won’t repeat myself.”

There was an edge to his tone, one you knew all too well. Ari Levinson was a dangerous man, but then again weren’t all businessmen dangerous? It’s not like he’d played nice all his life to become the millionaire he was now. But he never shared his work with you or your mom. No, Ari was very rigid in his rules. Work was for the men, and women were to look after the home and mind their business.

He had other rules too. A curfew for you, no swearing, no wearing revealing clothes – and that was just scraping the surface. You’d complained to your mother countless times: “He’s not my father, he can’t make me do any of this!” But your mother was blindly in love with Ari, and wouldn’t listen to a single negative thing about him. “We live under his roof, sweetheart. He pays for everything and we should be so grateful. The least you could do is follow his rules, he only wants what’s best for you!” It was a shame he didn’t love your mother back. You couldn’t imagine a powerful man like Ari Levinson loving anything.

You swallow and step into his office, clutching your coat tighter around your body. It was best not to waste time arguing with him, and the sooner he said whatever he had to say, the sooner you could leave. You had another party to go to tonight, and no one – not even Ari Levinson – was going to stop you.

“Close the door behind you.” Ari orders, leaning back on his leather chair and undoing the top button of his shirt.

“Why?”

“Close it.”

You do. There’s something about the way Ari speaks, the way his tone is so commanding without him even trying to make it seem that way. It compels you to listen, and so you stand there in his office, in front of his desk while he just looks at you. His eyes leisurely trailing up and down your body, so dark as he sips his scotch again.

“Look, Ari, I’m going out whether you like it or not, and–”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

You almost sneer, “I’m not going to call you Dad.”

“Of course not. You’re too spoilt to address your elders with a bit of respect.” He leans forward, his eyes never leaving yours as he sets his scotch down and runs his hand through his unruly brown hair. It’s all glossy and rich, curling at the ends like he’s some kind of romantic movie hero. It was crazy how good looking he was, how charming he looked for someone who was so strict and stuck in his ways.

“You’re literally not my father.” You say, shifting from one heeled foot to the other. You’d had this argument with him almost daily for the past year.

“Oh yeah? Who else lets you live under their roof? Buys you whatever you want and gives you a monthly allowance on top of that?”

You sniff, “Never asked for any of that.”

A smile touches his rosy lips, but it’s a wolfish one. A predatory one. “And yet you have no problem spending my money, do you? On stupid, mindless things like that sorry excuse for a dress you’ve got on under that coat.”

You bite your lip, holding your coat tighter around your body. It was long, but the dress underneath was short. Sinfully short, skintight, red lace. What else were you supposed to wear to the club? Not that Ari had to know that that’s where you were going tonight – one of his rules was no clubs. But how did he know about your dress?

Ari chuckles, “I know all about your slutty little get up, sweetheart. Isn’t that why you had your bedroom door open earlier while you were changing into it?”

Your jaw drops, “You pervert, you–”

“Enough.” He raises his hand to silence you, and you hate that it works. Your heart’s drumming in your chest and you despise how much of an effect your stepfather has on you. How much he intimidates you, how much he scares you despite how hard you try to prove otherwise. “Come here.”

You swallow harshly, “I am here.”

“No. Come over here. Closer to daddy.”

You blanche. That was the thing about Ari. He didn’t even want you to call him Dad. No, he wanted you to call him daddy – like you were some stupid, helpless little girl.

Sometimes, he’d brush past you around the house, make sure to squeeze your hip or rest his hand on your back despite the fact that the hallways were big enough for about ten people. How he’d grab something for you from the top shelf, making sure to touch you in some way as he did it. And he’d whisper – sometimes even with your mother in the same room – “Daddy’s got it, sweetheart,” or, “let daddy help you, honey,” or “how’s daddy’s best girl today?”

And it horrified you that disgust wasn’t the only thing you felt when he said those things.

“I’m fine right where I am.” You hold your ground, trying not to shake or teeter in your sky-high heels. Your bare legs suddenly feel cold, your palms clammy.

Ari blinks, “come here or I’ll get up and drag you here myself. And we both know you don’t want that.”

You mull it over. Ari was a huge man. And huge was an understatement. You didn’t think men could be so big and imposing until you’d met him. He towered over everyone you knew, and he completely dwarfed you. Hell, even in your heels you’d be half the size of him. And he was also absolutely ripped. Shredded like he went to the gym regularly, and you knew he did because he had a gym at home, and he’d often walk around shirtless after a workout. All sweaty and tanned and glistening, and–

“I’m waiting.” His voice is clear and powerful, carrying across the study, ringing in your ears. You think over your limited options, wondering if you could possibly just make a break for it.

You’d tried running away from him only once before. During the early hours of the morning, when Ari had come to pick you up after a house party gone a bit too wild. You were still drunk, high, happy. And then he’d pulled up in his expensive car, a grim look on his face. You’d giggled and ran, but it only took him a few strides to catch up with you. He’d hoisted you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes, like you weighed no more than a feather. And he’d thrown you in the back of his car and forbade you from ever going out again. Told you that if you did, he’d track you down and ground you for life. That there was no point in running, no point in hiding because he’d always track you down. Because he was your daddy and you were his little girl and he owned you.

That was when you’d realised just how insane Ari Levinson was. Insane with money and power and capable of anything with the world at his feet.

Heart beating madly in your ribcage, you take a deep breath and slowly walk over to him. Around his desk and right up in front of him. He turns his chair slightly, looking up at you from under those impossibly long lashes of his, his eyes flashing darkly as he takes you in. He grabs your hip and yanks you closer, and you stumble, almost falling on top of him before his strong arm steadies you, and you end up standing between his legs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a strange sensation at the compliment. Almost like a spark within you that you try your best to ignore. His hand is still on your hip, rubbing up and down through the mink of your coat. “Where’s your mommy tonight?”

“Asleep.”

“So you were going to sneak out.”

“It’s hardly sneaking out when you’re an adult in college who doesn’t need permission to go out and see her friends.” You can’t help but quip, although your attention is on his hand as it continues to rub your hip. Why was he doing that?

He acts like he hasn’t heard you, his eyes continuing to drink you in as he strokes your hip, “It’s not good to give your mommy and daddy so much grief, sweetheart. You should stay at home like a good little girl.”

Grief?! As if. You don’t think a man like Ari could ever feel anything as raw and humane as grief. Especially over something as normal as you, a college-aged woman, living her life.

You shrug, trying to act as casual as possible, “I like going out.”

“Mm,” in a flash, he yanks your coat off your body, the slinky fur sliding down till it falls by your feet. The action is so sudden, and yet Ari remains nonchalant, “You like dressing up like a slut too.”

“This is what all the girls are wearing.”

“But you’re my girl.” He toys with the lacy hem of your dress, a frown touching his handsome face at how short it is. Hell, the dress hardly covers your butt, and you’d class it more as lingerie than a going out dress, but that was none of his business. “I can’t have you going out like this, baby. Nobody’s allowed to see you like this.”

“What if they already have?”

The slap comes out of nowhere, sharp, unforgiving and loud, and your ass blooms with pain. You cry out, unable to believe he’s just spanked you.

“If you were stupid enough to give yourself to one of those idiot college boys you hang out with, trust me, I would know.” Ari says quietly. And it’s not a sneer, nor is there any contempt in his tone. Just cold, hard, nonchalance – which chills you down to the bone.

“Y-You’re crazy,” oh, but you hate the way your voice shakes as you say it!

“I’m just looking out for you, baby girl. That’s what daddies are for. Hell, even your mommy wants me to be your daddy.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know–”

“She wants me to be responsible for you, to discipline you, to take care of you how I see fit. How could you go against what your mommy wants?” His hand meanders lower, stroking your hip bone before gliding over your bare thigh, and then up again but this time under your dress. He cups your ass, and you can’t believe he’s got the balls to do it so casually. And it’s bare, because your lacy little G-string wasn’t covering anything, and you both knew that.

“Ari, you need to stop,” you swallow thickly, “y-you’re going too far this time, you–”

He yanks you into his lap, his motions so precise that you end up perched on his knee before you even know what’s happening. Your dress rides up, exposing your upper thighs and that’s exactly where his eyes zero in. Those intense, navy blue eyes that flash as his tongue swipes over his lips. And that’s when you feel it. Hard. Underneath you.

“This is where you belong,” he says softly. But not in a sweet way. Each word drips with menace. Quiet menace and a hanging threat. “On your daddy’s lap like a good little girl. God, baby girl, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hold you in my lap like this.” He bounces you up and down, watching as your breasts bounce in your tight red dress. “Every day I see you skipping around wearing next to nothing, and that fucking body…” He pauses, inhaling deeply as his arm secures around you even tighter, “…that peachy little ass on full display when you’d go out in your slutty little outfits no matter how much I forbade you from wearing them.”

“M-Mom’s upstairs,” you warn him, pressing your hands against his chest in a bid to get away from him except he’s too strong as he holds you rigidly in place. You can hardly believe what’s coming out of his mouth right now, but you don’t want to stick around to find out more, despite the fact that your thighs seem to be pressing together off their own accord. “Mom’s upstairs and she could come down any second, and–”

“She wants us to be together,” Ari smiles, and again it’s that wicked, menacing smile of his that’s more of a smirk than a smile. “She wants me to be your daddy, to take care of you. She knows how out of hand you’re getting; she knows you need a man like me to put you back in your place.”

“What?!”

“Mm, baby girl. And I let you act like a whore long enough. I was lenient, you see. I was enamoured by you, and so I let you do what you wanted. But now it’s time to put my foot down before you get too out of hand.”

“You’re insane!” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Firstly, lenient?! In what universe was Ari ever lenient with you? He’d always been strict and up your ass about his dumb rules and traditional values. No going out, no drinking, no smoking, no hanging out with boys, no wearing revealing clothes. If that was him being lenient, then you didn’t want to know what he was capable of now.

“There you go again, talking back to me. It’s clear your mommy didn’t teach you any manners.” Ari fingers the lacy strap of your dress, pushing it down your shoulder and inhaling the perfumed bare skin he’s exposed. You’d lathered yourself in fragranced lotion, one that left glitter all over your body, and it reflects in his eyes as they continue raking over you, looking everywhere as if it’s his right to.

And he’d never gone this far before! Sure, he’d brush against you and hold you and whisper things to you, but he’d always teetered along that line, never crossed it. Now he seemed close to it, hell-bent on doing it. There’s a fire in his eyes that you don’t recognise, a lust that burns so bright it makes you look away lest you catch it and start feeling it too.

“And you know exactly what you’re doing to your daddy,” he continues, brushing your hair off your shoulder to expose the nape of your neck, and his huge hand grabs your throat lightly, almost casually. “You left your door open tonight so I could watch you slip on this slutty lingerie you call a dress. And that fucking peachy baby ass of yours, in those tiny, slutty panties…” Again, he inhales sharply, and you feel him shift subtly underneath you, his boner digging into you from below.

You try to ignore the lump in your throat and the beginnings of a fire in the depths of your stomach. “Nobody asked you to look, Ari. You’re a fucking creep and I’m gonna tell Mom you were spying on me.”

He smiles again, like your threat means nothing to him. And why would it? You’re half his age and at his mercy, the clothes on your body bought with his money, as is the makeup on your face. The furniture in your room, all your college textbooks… Hell, he paid your college fees. You were bound to him. He knew he owned you.

“You just earned yourself five extra smacks, baby girl.”

“Five extra what?”

“And you wanted me to look, sweetheart. You always want me to look,” Ari licks his lips, that predatory glint in his eye increasing tenfold. And he casually tweaks your nipple which is poking stiffly out from under the thin lace of your dress. You convulse, and he grins wolfishly, “That’s why you act like an attention-seeking whore, wear slutty clothes and prance around like you own the place. You’re crying out to be put back in your place, you need it.”

“All I need is for you to back off.” You stick your chin up, trying to be brave. But the older man only looks amused, and he strokes your hard nipple with just his thumb, the action sending sparks down to your core that you try your best to ignore.

“God, you’re fucking adorable,” he almost groans it, and his other hand tightens on your hip, grinding you down on his erection while you sit there frozen, “I can’t wait to fuck you in mine and mommy’s bed…”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” His salacious words act like a bucket of icy cold water, shocking you out of your trance. God, he was truly insane! You try to jump off of him, but his grip tightens around your stomach, pinning you down on him as you struggle.

“She won’t mind,” he whispers, licking the shell of your ear and sending electric currents down your body, “she wants us to bond, sweetheart. And I can’t think of a better daddy and baby girl bonding activity–”

“YOU’RE SICK!”

It’s when you really start struggling, when you bat and punch at his chest that he finally frowns. Not that it hurts him, but he doesn’t like the disrespect. That’s when he pushes down on your back, easily manoeuvring your body till he’s got you slung over his knee, your lacy dress riding up and your ass poking up into his face.

“You’re such a brat,” Ari’s lets his hand rest squarely on your ass, stroking it from on top of the red lace. You feel hot all over, heart beating out of your chest as you try to wrap your head around what exactly is happening right now. “But that’s okay, isn’t it sweetheart? One night with your daddy will set you straight. Then you’ll be the good little girl your mommy and I want you to be.”

“Let me go! Don’t you dare touch me, don’t you– OW!”

Ari’s huge hand cracks down on your ass like lightning, and your cry of pain echoes around his study, bouncing off the walls and ricocheting back into your ringing ears. Pain blooms across your backside, tears welling in your eyes – he’d hit you so hard.

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were craving a good spanking,” Ari runs his hand over your ass, stroking the sizzling skin that’s still covered by the flimsy lace of your dress, “that you needed it, and you wanted me to give it to you.” Easily, he pushes the lace up, bunching your dress around your waist. He fingers your G-string, snapping it against your skin and making you cry out again, “You’re such a little slut…”

He rips your panties off, and you hear him inhale sharply, and you know he’s smelling them. And then his hand cracks down on your ass again, and again you cry out in pain because it’s your bare ass and it hurts, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“I watched you stumble into the house last night, well past your curfew,” he speaks so casually, despite his hand raining unforgiving spanks on your ass, “looking like a slutty, drunk little mess, your dress up and that cute bubble butt of yours poking out like you were trying to tease me. God, I wanted to take you over my knee then and there. But I knew you had to be sober for this. It’s the only way you’d learn.”

“Please, stop, it hurts, it–”

“And to think you were going to go out again, break my rules again,” he sneers, giving you a particularly hard smack that has you reeling, the tears streaking down your cheeks. “Stupid little girl, don’t you get it? I give you everything, every material fucking thing in the world you could ask for. And all I ask in return is for you to be a good little girl, a respectful little girl who stays at home and listens to her daddy. Is that so fucking hard?”

All you do is sob, and he yanks your hair, “I said, is that so fucking hard?”

“No!” You cry, wiggling around on his lap in a bid to get away from the unforgiving wrath of his palm, your mind quickly slipping into delirium, to that place where you’ll say anything just to get him to stop. “No, it’s not hard, okay?! PLEASE STOP!”

“No more going out,” smack after smack rains down on your ass, and the skin feels like it’s breaking, like it’s on fire, and he just grows harder, more excited underneath you. “No, baby girl. From now on, you’ll be good, won’t you? You’ll stay at home with me, let me take care of you.”

“Okay, fine! Just stop, just–”

“And daddy’s gonna take such good care of you,” he croons softly, and yet he sounds so fucking evil, “Daddy’s gonna feed you, change you, bathe you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? So much more than your goddamned parties.”

A strangled sound leaves your throat, white hot pain radiating off your poor ass as he manhandles you, spanking you like you’re some goddamned child being chastised. And you were a grown woman! A grown woman with a sick in the head stepfather who was hellbent on inflicting his torturous, fucked up discipline.

“Say it. Say you want daddy to bathe you. Say you’d like that, because you’re too much of a dumb baby to do it yourself,” he orders, sick pleasure in his tone at his own words. And he gives you the hardest slap yet, like a threat of what’s to come if you didn’t answer how he wanted you to.

“Fine, okay?!” Your voice is shrill with fear, “I-I want you to…” your face screws up, hotness prickling your cheeks, “I want you to bathe me, take care of me...”

SMACK.

“Address me properly.”

“I WANT YOU TO BATHE ME, DADDY!” Shame erupts inside you, but so does relief when the spank you’re expecting never comes, and his hand rests on the curve of your ass instead.

“Of course you do, my helpless little girl.” He croons, switching from menacing to faux-sweet with the drop of a hat. “I always knew you needed me. You made it so obvious.”

“C-Can you please just stop now?” You hang your head, the energy depleting from your body, and all you can focus on is the pain in your ass. That, and the way his boner is poking dangerously close to your core. And you feel this strange urge to hump downwards, but you push it away as soon as it flits your mind.

“You have such a pretty ass, baby,” he ignores you, stroking your ass with that large, warm hand of his. “Sure, daddy just did a number on it, but that’s okay. A cute bubble butt like yours was made to be ruined, wasn’t it? Say it. Say it exactly how I just said it.”

You sniffle, ass on fire and thoughts disorientated enough that you obey without a single protest, “My… My cute bubble butt was made to be ruined.”

You expect him to let you go then, to laugh at you for being reduced to a sniffling mess. To taunt you because you and him both know your mother wouldn’t believe you if you told her what had just happened. He was perfect in her eyes, a knight in shining armour and that was all she ever wanted to see him as. Not the devil incarnate who’d spanked your ass raw for coming home later than the curfew he’d set for you.

Instead, you hear him inhale deeply, squeezing and fondling your ass cheeks, groping them to his heart’s desire, jiggling each cheek like it’s a toy made for his pleasure. And you almost lose yourself to the sensation, because why do you feel that need again? That need to grind down on his knee?

But then his hand moves lower, and his hand cups your cunt before you even realise that he’s crossed that line completely. That line a stepfather should never cross.

“Ari, n-no, don’t…” but why does your voice not even convince your own self?

“I’ll do what I please,” he says calmly, as if he’s conversing with you normally over a pot of coffee in the morning, as if he doesn’t have his big, warm hand cupping your bare pussy. “I own you, it’s only right that I show you what pleasure is. I’m sure you’ve never felt it before, not with those boys you hang around. And you took your punishment well, sweetheart. Daddy’s so proud of you, and I’m not all bad, you know.”

Before you can say another word, his strong arms lift you up and manhandle you till you’re bent over his oak desk, your ass poking up and at his mercy yet again as he stands up to his full height behind you. You yelp when he gives your ass another hard slap, as if he can’t help it.

“You’ve made a mess all over my pants, baby girl,” he pulls your hair, making you look back. And that’s when you see the dark wet spot on his pants. Oh no, no, no. That couldn’t have been you, could it?

And yet, yet you can feel that tell-tale wetness now trailing down your thighs. Were you… leaking? Is that how turned on you were right now? Despite the disgust you feel? And the contempt and hatred too?

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Ari puts on that faux-sweet voice again, and yet he still sounds menacing, predatory as he grips your ass cheeks so hard they hurt. “I know baby girls like you can’t help but have an accident every now and then. It’s a good thing daddy’s here to clean you up.”

Before you can even attempt to decipher what’s happening next, he grabs your hips and hoists your ass up even higher. Then he spreads your ass cheeks apart and your eyes almost bug out of your head when you feel his tongue, stiff and wet, like a stripe up your asshole.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You can’t help but moan. No one had ever, ever even touched you up there. Let alone lick you there, and oh god! Oh god, it felt so insane. Your cunt throbs at the feel of his wet tongue up there. Your stepfather was eating your ass.

“Taste so fucking sweet,” he murmurs, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your butt cheeks as he spreads them even further apart. He spits down on your puckered hole, making you tense up in anticipation. “I’ve been dreaming of eating your sexy little ass since the moment I saw you.”

“This is wrong…” and yet your words sound so faint, so far away. What feels close is his tongue, big and flat as he laps at your hole like a starved man. And you don’t know what possesses you but you know you have to start rocking your hips back into his face, and that’s when you feel him smirk against you.

“I knew you’d come around, baby girl. I knew you’d get off on me eating you back here. I bet none of your little boyfriends ever did this for you, huh?”

“N-No, oh-oh gosh, I-I–”

 He cups your cunt again, this time gathering your wetness and bringing it up to your asshole. And fuck, his finger makes you twitch as he rubs your wetness into your puckered hole before lapping it up with his tongue. And the whole time, obscene noises fill up his study, and your mother sleeps soundly upstairs while her husband violates your asshole and both of you are moaning now.

“Fucking sexy baby ass,” Ari mutters, practically tongue-fucking your hole like he hasn’t had a meal in days. And his stiff, wet tongue forces its way into your tight hole and you wail because it feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Now you’re grinding back into his face in earnest, and your poor, neglected cunt is dripping juices down on his desk, and–

Ari slaps your ass hard, the sound ringing across the room, and his beard scrapes against your hole, and it feels so sinfully good that you want to cry. How did it get to this? You hate him. You despise him. And yet…

It’s when he forces his thick pointer finger into your poor asshole that you scream in earnest, and all it earns you is another slap to your butt. And this itself makes your pussy clench, like your body is growing accustomed to his rough ways. Like your body is accepting his rough ways, liking his rough ways.

“D-Daddy,” you whimper voluntarily, because your body is betraying you and now so is your voice, “daddy please. Need to, n-need to…”

“Say it.” Ari’s voice drips with power and authority, “Say what you need.”

“Need to – nngh! – need to cum!”

He smirks, “No one’s stopping you, baby girl. No one’s stopping you from getting off on your stepdaddy eating your tight, sexy ass.”

He pushes you down on his desk, till your stomach is flat against the hard oak. With your ass pinned down against the hard surface, he spreads your cheeks again – as far as they’d go. With renewed vigour, he starts licking up your ass again. And you twitch against his harsh tongue, which probes and licks you like you’re nothing more than his meal. And you gasp and whine and moan like a whore, thrusting back against him, needing to cum, just needing to cum and nothing else.

You squirt hard when he bites down on your ass cheek, bites down on it like a man possessed, like a man hell-bent on marking you as his property. And you’re sure he’s left a mark, you’re sure he’s drawn blood, and he fingers your tight asshole the whole time, milking your orgasm as your untouched cunt convulses and waves of shocking pleasure radiate through your body.

“That’s right, baby girl,” Ari licks at the spot where he’s bit you, sucking at the poor, broken skin to make the bruise even more prominent. “My special little girl, finally giving yourself to daddy. I’m so proud of you, baby. Fuck, so proud of my little girl.”

 You’re half lost in your delirium but you snap out of it when you feel something wet and hot splash on your ass. Spurts of it, coating your sore and bruised ass. His cum. You hadn’t even realised he was jacking off. Your stepdad, jacking off and dropping his load all over your sizzling ass after he’d just spanked you and ate you out back there.

Fuck.

“Next time, I’m finishing inside you,” Ari has the audacity to chuckle, despite the air feeling heavy around you as you come down from your high and collapse on his desk, all energy sapped out of your body.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper. You feel a bunch of sensations, but you feel another spark of thrill when his finger swipes over your ass. And then he brings it to your lips, his finger coated with his cum that he’s gathered, and presses it into your mouth.

You don’t have the energy to fight him, and so you suck on his finger, like a good little girl you lap up his cum, swallow it while he smiles at you approvingly, and pats your head like you’re his little pet. Ruined and collapsed on his desk, your panties in his pocket and your poor dress hiked high around your waist. Completely at his mercy.

“I’ll run you a bath,” he says, picking you up and gathering you in his arms. You’re limp, too weak to argue. To fucked out to really register what’s just happened. “See, doesn’t it feel good to be taken care of by your daddy? All that partying isn’t good for you. Only daddy knows what’s good for you. But don’t worry. You’ll learn. Soon.”

A/N: THE END! OKAY WHAT DO WE THINK??? AHHHH this Ari is sooo fucked up omfg. But I'm kinda nervous posting this bc I haven't posted a full length fic in a while??? and idk... this just came to me. BUT WHAT DO WE THINK? Please, please do let me know! Feedback/comments/reblogs would mean the world to me! I JUST WANNA KNOW WHAT YALL THINK??? FAV PART??? ANYTHINGSS anyways byeee love u <3

[lemonlover1110]

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 2] Overthinking

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Pairing: Knight!Toji Fushiguro x Princess!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Suggestive Content, Minor Sex Talk

Story Summary: This is what'll get Toji killed... But how can he reject her when she looks up at him with such beautiful eyes? A man that's been to war won't be killed by the edge of a sword but rather the lips of a woman.

He shouldn’t lay a finger on her, but he’ll do anything that she asks him to. She’s his princess, he has to follow her every word.

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“What?” Toji almost pinches himself to check if he’s dreaming. A weird dream that it would be– But no, you’re right in front of him. You’re right in front of him, asking him to have sex with you. Alert eyes check nearby, watching out for any witnesses. Once he realizes there’s no one nearby he speaks again, “Don’t repeat it.”

“What’s your answer?” You ask, looking up at him with wide eyes and he laughs. That’s his response, a laugh; it ticks you off.

“Princess, are you a cuck?” He responds, and you furrow your brows in confusion. 

“What’s a cuck?” You answer without skipping a beat. He almost wants to burst into laughter but he’s too nervous to do anything else but stare at you. 

“I’ve got a good head on my shoulders, I’d hate to see it rolling on the ground.” He tells you, and you look just as confused. He can’t talk to you in riddles… Though he isn’t speaking in riddles, he just has to be direct with you. He clears his throat before saying, “No. I won’t have sex with you, princess. Good night.”

“Why not?” You question, as if the answer isn’t obvious. It’s not obvious for you, you don’t see an issue with it. Luckily, Toji has the common sense that you lack. 

He won’t answer the question, instead he turns on his heel and leaves you. He’ll search for your night guard, and let this die down. He’s sure that clarity will hit you tonight, and you won’t mention this again. A princess that’s so high and mighty asking to have sex with a man of his status? You have lost your mind. You let the stupid nobles get to your head.

“Toji, where are you going?!” You yell after him, and if embarrassment wasn’t slowly settling in, you’d run after him. You end up scoffing, slamming the door to your room shut and staring at it frustratedly… Did you just get rejected?

No, he didn’t hear you right. You didn’t just get rejected.

You feel… Offended? Mad? No, no. You’d feel offended if Toji had rejected you but he wouldn’t do that. Toji would never refuse an order from his princess.

You stare at the door, and your nails dig into the palms of your head. That son of a bitch rejected you. Oh, you could scream. But you're mature enough that you can suppress it and act like a true princess.

There’s something off with you, and Toji notices immediately. You’re not being your usual self…

“Why are you all dressed up, princess? You do know we’re just staying in the castle, right?” Toji asks as he escorts you to the dining room for breakfast. He does it on purpose to get the bickering started— He wants to completely gloss over the proposal from last night.

You were vulnerable, and of course your friends got to your head. He wants to show that he didn’t take things seriously, and he truly believes he’s doing a good deed. But things aren’t easy like he wants them to be. You aren’t easy.

There’s no ‘Of course someone of your class doesn’t understand the basis of looking good at all times’ and no ‘If I wanted you to speak, I would have ordered you to open your mouth’; instead, Toji is met with pure silence. You don’t even look back to glare at him.

“You’re just staying in today, right? You didn’t tell me about anything else.” He speaks again, continuing to break the basic etiquette. He should not be speaking to you unless spoken first. But that has never been a thing between the two of you. Toji gets to break a lot of rules because you’ve never cared for the rules in the first place. 

“Toji.” You finally speak, and his eyes lighten up. Only to realize that you’re in the dining room, and his presence is no longer needed. The king doesn’t like the guards to join during breakfast which usually ends up with Toji being shunned to the kitchen with the help.

“Enjoy your breakfast, your highness.” Toji tells you before walking away. He goes to the kitchen, sitting down at the table that’s for him. He’s already had his breakfast, so he isn’t necessarily hungry– But the aroma of the food grazes his nose, and his stomach growls.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything, Toji? I know you have a long day ahead of you.” Mayu walks up to him, holding a bowl of oatmeal. She wears a bright smile on her face, happy to bump into Toji first thing in the morning. Unfortunately for her, Toji just isn’t in the mood. 

“I’m good.” He answers, even when his stomach gives it away. She sits with him, knowing that she should continue her duties but her attention is on something more interesting. Someone more interesting.

“Are you upset with the princess?” She asks, a hint of mischief in her eyes. No matter how much she tries, she never hears a single bad word about the princess from Toji; but considering that last night they were cut short, she feels like his feelings have changed.

“Why would I be?” He responds, not even bothering to look her in the eye. He fails to see the frown that comes to her face when he answers. That’s not what she wanted to hear, but she won’t get too bummed out about it, she guesses it’s part of his job.

“What did she need last night?” She continues the one-sided conversation, and Toji tries his best to remain composed. You absolutely did not ask him to have sex with you. You didn’t even look at him. Nothing happened. Who would even believe him if he told the truth either way?

“She needed me to kill a spider.” He lies, and she begins to laugh. Before she can even begin to ridicule you, Hanako walks over to the table.

“Care if I join you two?” The old woman smiles, and Toji points to the chair across from him. Mayu ends up sighing, but she ends up faking a smile. Hanako begins to eat her breakfast, and Toji stares at her. 

The woman that’s across from him has been like your second mother, and it makes Toji wonder if she knows. Did you end up telling her anything this morning? Toji has figured out that you two are close, but how close are you exactly?

“Do I have something on my face?” Hanako questions when she notices that Toji is staring her down. She always ensures that not a single hair is out of place, but she was in a bit of a rush this morning.

“No.” Toji ends up saying. His eyes search for a clock, needing to know how much he has left before he follows you around for the day.

“Ignore him, Hanako. He’s acting weird.” Mayu ends up saying, offering a smile to the woman. Hanako raises her eyebrows in curiosity, but she won’t dare pry. She won’t ask about Toji’s private life, it isn’t her place. “Ever since the princess interrupted us last night, he’s been out of it.”

“The princess?” The woman nearly chokes on her food. Hanako wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin before asking the obvious, “What were you two doing?”

“Well we were–” Mayu begins but Toji glares at her.

“It’s not because of the princess.” Toji cuts her off, and Hanako clicks her tongue.

“I’m not asking because I care about your feelings, sir.” Hanako replies. “I want to know how to deal with the princess.”

“She’s not a child, she can handle two adults making out.” Toji argues before he bites his tongue. He regrets opening his mouth the moment he makes eye contact with Hanako. He’s right, you aren’t a child and being sheltered is what led you to ask such an inappropriate question last night. But perhaps saying those words to Hanako isn’t the smartest move.

“You are going to apologize to the princess, sir, and you are going to make it good!” Hanako begins to scold him, and he sighs. He has to deal with this and with an angry princess… It’s going to be a long day.

Work today is pure torture. He thought that the obnoxious parties were the worst that the job had to offer, but this is it. You’re acting like proper royalty and not engaging with him whatsoever. Toji didn’t know how much he enjoyed the bickering until he realized how boring the job is without it.

He’s following behind you as you take a stroll through the garden. A garden that’s so well loved and taken care of because of you. These walks aren’t unusual, but the silence that accompanies it is. He doesn’t even understand the point of the stroll when you’re not conversing with anyone.

“Your highness, are we expecting anyone?” Toji asks, the deafening silence getting the best of him. You don’t even look back at him, instead you keep walking. You keep walking as if he didn’t exist.

Toji sighs, at the very least wanting to know where you’re headed. You’re walking around like a headless chicken. Sure, the garden is nice but there’s these pesky bugs that love to get all over Toji. Plus, it’s warm out and his uniform doesn’t help.

“Will you go inside and get my basket?” You ask when you come to a sudden stop. He frowns, confused why you even ask the question until he lowers his gaze and realizes that you’re by the strawberries.

“I can hold them.” He answers, and you scoff.

“It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order.” You respond, slightly annoyed that he’s defying what you say. Toji never dares to defy your wants– Except right now… and last night.

“I can’t leave you without supervision.” He argues, and you furrow your brows. You cross your arms and finally turn around to face him.

“I’m safe within these walls, am I not?” You question, and Toji sighs. This isn’t the bickering he wanted.

“My job is to watch you, and I’m not taking my eyes off you. You can order me to do whatever you want but I’m your knight, not your maid.” He ends up answering, and you roll your eyes at him. You miss the simpler days where you didn’t need a knight, alas, that isn’t your situation now.

“Fine. Cradle your arms.” You order as you get on your knees to grab the fruit that’s ripe enough to collect. It’s finally strawberry season. Toji crouches down and cradles his arms, just as he was ordered.

He’s watching as your gentle hands pick the strawberries apart one by one. You bring one to your lips, slowly biting down. The juice drips down your chin, goes down your neck and eventually reaches your cleavage– Toji has to tear his eyes away as sweet temptation consumes him.

“Do you want one?” You end up offering, grabbing a big strawberry and holding it in his view. He should refuse, but you’re finally speaking to him. He won’t risk making the situation worse, instead he bites down on the sweet fruit. You chuckle, your thumb going over his chin to clean up the juice that drips down. “They’re juicy and sweet.”

“They cheered you up.” He comments, making you roll your eyes.

“Let’s go back inside.” You stand up, dusting off your dress. “Perhaps the strawberry I fed you rolled around in the dirt before I picked it…”

“I’m still honored.” He teases as he slowly rises. He didn’t even realize the amount of strawberries till he had to maintain balance to keep them from falling. Toji’s eyes remain on the fruit that he holds, making sure that not a single one falls over.

“Good morning, princess.” Toji hears, his eyes darting up to see the fellow knight that walks by. He smiles brightly at you, waving your way. Toji clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes at the lack of courtesy from the knight.

“Good morning, Sir Ino.” You respond, and the sudden stop of Toji makes a couple of strawberries fall to the ground. His brows furrow as he replays the scene in his head… You remembered the knight’s name, you never remember any of the staff’s name unless you’re close to them.

“Hi, Toji.” Ino waves at Toji as well, only to be met by a harsh glare. Toji ignores the knight and follows behind you again, picking up a bit of speed since he’s fallen a couple of steps behind.

“Your highness, how do you know Sir Ino?” Toji questions, as if he has any right to ask you the question. You quickly remind him of his place by ignoring the question. Of course, you’re not going to give in so easily.

Toji knows that you’re still upset with him so he’ll try not to overthink your lack of words. And the man never gets into his head about anything, but it’s weird that you know someone’s name. Toji isn’t special, he knows he isn’t. The question you asked him last night was because he was the first man that came to your mind, and now that he’s rejected you he fears that you’ll attempt to go to someone else for help.

“Put them in the kitchen. Tell the staff I want strawberry shortcake tonight.” You order as you enter the castle. 

“Where will you go, your highness?” Toji asks, wanting to know where exactly he needs to go after dropping the strawberries in the kitchen.

“I have my piano lesson, remember?” You remind him, and Toji’s eyes almost widen. If there’s one person that he doesn’t trust you around is that damned piano teacher that makes you giggle like a fucking schoolgirl.

“Here, I have to go.” Instead of doing the task himself, Toji dumps the responsibility of the strawberries to the first maid he sees. A bunch of strawberries fall to the floor as he lets them go in the arms of an unaware maid. He doesn’t take his gaze off you as you begin to walk to the piano room. “Princess wants a strawberry shortcake tonight. She likes it extra sweet.”

“Princess, don’t get too far ahead! You know the king doesn’t like when you’re locked in that room with Mr. Kong alone!” Toji yells, nearly running to catch up with you. He feels like he’s going to die early, and he knows who to blame that on.

He’s ignored again, but this time he understands. This has never been something that he’s cared about. As a matter of fact, he usually stands outside to not hear the awful music you claim you play. He has no ground to stand on.

“No smoking indoors, Mr. Kong.” Toji can’t believe he’s setting rules, but apparently this is what he gets paid for. This is the man that Toji has left you alone with for so many times– The idiot is leaning against the mahogany piano, smoking a cigarette while gawking at you.

Worst of all, you’re smiling. Giving the man a soft look while you listen to his instructions. Toji, who is supposed to stand in the corner without even being heard, grabs an ashtray and snatches the cigarette from the man. Toji makes stern eye contact with Shiu as he puts the cigarette out.

“The king won’t be too happy if he smells that awful stench.” Toji comments, a passive aggressive smile coming to his lips.

“Sir Toji, it’s weird seeing you in the room.” Shiu smirks, crossing his arms as he stares at Toji. “Does the king know that you’re here?”

“Does the king know that you’re flirt–” Toji begins before his eyes land on you. You’re staring at the piano keys in shame. Toji rolls his eyes before staring back at Shiu, “Don’t light another one up or I’ll put it out on your neck.”

Shiu ends up chuckling before turning his attention back to you, “Let’s get back to work, your highness. Where were we? Before we were so rudely interrupted.”

Toji’s annoyance grows as he watches Shiu work with you. No wonder your piano skills don’t get any better, the fool isn’t teaching you anything, he’s just flirting with you. And what ticks him off is the fact that you’re welcoming about it– But it’s not your fault. You’re just naïve and don’t realize that you’re being flirted with.

“Can we play? Or is that against the rules too, sir?” Mischief is written all over Shiu’s gaze. He wants to stir the pot, and it works.

“Would you like me to speak to the king? The princess’ piano skills are still awful and you’ve been with her for the past two years… You’re not making much progress.” Toji points out, and you nearly bury your face in your hands out of sheer embarrassment. 

“You dare insult your princess–” Shiu is about to respond but you stand up, getting their attention. You grab Toji’s wrist and drag him out of the room, placing him outside of the door before walking back inside to continue your lesson.

You don’t have to say a word, but Toji won’t dare walk back inside.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Toji?! Who the hell do you think you are?!” Your voice is loud and clear as he follows you to your room. You have to get ready for lunch, and on the way to your room you’ll give him a piece of your mind. You can’t keep your thoughts to yourself considering how he embarrassed you. “Since when do you care about the fucking rules?! For the past– God knows have long, you’ve left me with Shiu without an issue.”

“Shiu! That’s my issue! He’s your piano teacher, not your buddy! He’s Mr. Kong to you!” Toji argues, forgetting his place. 

“Why do you care?! You’re so annoying!” You yell. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?! Why do you think you have some sort of authority over me?! Talking to me as if you don’t know your fucking place!”

“What is my place, princess?! Do you care to remind me? Or should I remind you what you told me last night?!” He responds as you get to your door. It’s the first time he brings it up and he’d feel bad if you weren’t acting the way you are. He swore to himself last night that he would never bring it up. You were vulnerable, he doesn’t want to hold it against you– But he’s definitely had a change of heart.

You look around the place, watching out for anyone before lowering your voice, “That was a mistake. Completely forget that.”

“Good.” Toji answers, looking around the place as he thinks his next words carefully. You’re not going to give up that thought from last night, you’ll just search for someone that’s willing. Whether that’s Toji, Shiu or Ino. 

He shouldn’t get involved in this mess.

He’s not going to die by the lips of a woman.

“But if that’s what you want, I’ll do it.” Toji says, a frown coming to your face as confusion takes over you.

“Huh?” You respond, and Toji licks his lips before looking around the place one more time. He can never be too safe.

“If you want me to have sex with you, I’ll do it.”

[sixosix]

summary you take it upon yourself to make it up to lyney when he couldn’t perform on the night he looked forward to the most—and lyney falls a little harder.

or, sickfic, basically, but it’s more than that

warnings wc 3k, mentions of injuries and blood, fluff!!! and a bit of angst oops

A/N @hiraethsdesires wanted to get tagged so here u goo!!! hope u like reading it <3

“For the last time, Lyney,” you sigh, shoving one more macaron in the small, red box with the same shade as the accents of his hat, “I can’t attend your show.”

It’s a stroke of luck for him that you don’t have a line right now, or else you would’ve kicked him out the moment you saw him enter, fully expecting he doesn’t intend on leaving right away.

Lyney droops dramatically, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Seriously? Not this week either?”

“Not this week either. Not ever, I’m pretty sure I told you.” You push the box against his chest, to which he responds eagerly by situating his free hand firmly over yours.

He keeps his grip firm when you try tugging your hands away. He bores his eyes into yours, too sincere and open for a performer such as himself—you feel a bit of your will chip away. “That night is special to me. Won’t you consider again?”

“Why is it special?”

Lyney’s lips curl into a smirk, striking right when you’ve faltered. “Because you will be coming to watch, of course.”

You jerk your hands out of his grip as he laughs. “Bold assumption,” you say, smiling a little when Lyney cries a ‘come onnnn’. “Lyney, I already said—”

“—That you have no one else to take care of the shop if you leave, I know, I know,” Lyney interrupts with clear disdain. “But don’t you think I deserve a bit of compensation? Surely you recognize my efforts in being this bakery’s most loyal customer. Most purchases and most compliments to the prettiest owner.”

You roll your eyes, but you do give it a bit of thought. Lyney has been the reason why your humble little shop tucked in some hidden corner of Fontaine’s city has been gaining attention. You’ve definitely increased in customers ever since Lyney took it upon himself to come over every day with a Rainbow Rose and a dream (and Mora).

“If I attend to one, will you promise it’ll be the last?”

Lyney’s expression shifts instantly. He beams, leaning close enough until your noses are touching. You swear you can see the sparkles in his eyes. “I can’t promise anything if you enjoy it so much you keep coming back for more.”

“Don’t push it,” you say.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Lyney murmurs, his smile turning softer. “You’re not joking around, right? That’s a yes?”

“It’s a yes, I guess.”

He kisses your hand three times, saying, “I’ll make it the best night of your life, I promise,” between them.

You look forward to it. You wouldn’t tell it to his face, but if he were to look closer and see the tremble of your hands to the smile on your face, he’d know anyway.

Lyney doesn’t come over the next day.

You will yourself not to feel too disappointed. You have no right to be. Every time he does visit, he’d just invite you to one of his shows under the guise of ordering whatever you tell him is the best seller of the day, and every time, you’d reject his offer. Yesterday was an exception—on a whim.

Maybe he got a revelation, thinking that he'll find it boring when he finally got you in his grasp.

It certainly doesn’t help that Lyney still hasn't come to visit the day after that, which happened to be the same day of the performance.

They canceled the show, you hear them say, from outside on the streets and even in the walls of your bakery. What a shame; I was looking forward to it.

So was I, you want to say through gritted teeth.

You knew their fame knew no bounds, but it was only then that embarrassment crept in when you realized that the show star, Lyney himself, frequented your small shop with a bouquet in hand to invite you personally. And you had the gall to reject him.

You also learn that the bakery feels much more empty without his blazing presence.

The moment you finish watching the customer exit the shop with two paper bags in their arms, you rush to fling your apron off and flip the sign to ‘CLOSED’.

You don’t often leave the bakery in fear of missing out on what could be busy days, but this is more important than that. You can’t handle working idly for another hour with guilt in your stomach urging you to do something.

You must look like a sight: speeding through the pathway with a bit of flour on your clothes and a determined glint in your eyes. Only when you spot a familiar house overhead do you pause to take a deep breath.

You can do this. You need to find out what happened.

“He got sick?”

Lynette nods, sighing in defeat. “Would you like to come in? I’ll explain as I make tea.”

You glance around unsurely, feeling a little out of place. You occasionally break the heart of the brother of this woman currently inviting you inside their home. You can only hope that Lyney hasn’t been lamenting his bakery troubles to his sister.

Lynette directs you to the loveseat of their small living room before padding over to the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says in her endearing ever-monotone voice.

“I’m okay, thank�� you…” Your gaze catches on a picture frame on the desk beside the seat of Lyney, Lynette, and what you can only assume from stories he’s shared is Freminet. Lynette is far from the camera, staring into the distance and sipping tea. Freminet is smiling awkwardly with no teeth, and the one eye he has visible isn’t even staring at the camera. Then Lyney sits in the middle, holding the camera with two arms and a wide grin, eyes screwed shut and his face so open.

You feel as if you’ve just caught a glimpse of something so personal, and the thought of that twists your heart and pushes it to beat twice as fast as normal. You’ve never seen him smile like that before. (You briefly wonder what it would be like to see it happen personally.)

“I’ve never seen him get this high of a fever before,” Lynette says, rousing you from your trance. She hands you a cup of tea, steam emanating from the cup.

“How did he even get sick?”

“I’m not sure… It could be because of the thunderstorm yesterday—he was out at that time and came home like that. He seemed really excited for tonight, too. Lyney kept telling me that this one would be special.”

“Because you will be coming to watch, of course.”

You nearly choke in your first sip because of your own thoughts.

Lynette looks back up at you over the rim of her cup. “With the stress of not being able to perform tormenting him, I assume he wouldn’t be getting better in time for the show. Or at least, not tonight at all.”

“Ah,” you voice lamely. You can’t even imagine the look of pure distress on Lyney’s sweet face—it hurts to even think about it. He’s done so much for you and even promised a whole show, only to fall sick before he could make it come true.

Will he think he’s at fault for this?

With your fingernails digging crescents on your palms, you quietly ask, “…Can I come visit him? Or would that be too much?”

Lynette’s gaze sharpens a little. “Has my brother told you the truth of our identities?”

“Most of everyone found out after the trial,” you answer without missing a beat.

“And still, you choose to care for Lyney?”

Is this a shovel talk? Are you experiencing a shovel talk right now?

“He makes it hard not to,” you say weakly; it’s the truth. You’re here because Lyney, throughout his little visits, has made you care so deeply for him that you started to look forward to each visit. “…Is that a no? Was that too much of a request?”

Lynette has a ghost of a smile on her face. “It’s perfect.”

The room is silent as you enter. You feel shame for visiting someone’s room without them knowing, even though you’ve been given complete permission by his own sister. Still, your face burns the closer you reach Lyney’s bed.

“Hey, Lyney,” you murmur as you kneel beside the bed. “I brought some of your favorites.”

He doesn’t respond, much to no one’s surprise. You wonder why you feel so disappointed that those lilac eyes aren’t looking at you, begging you, wooing you. Defeated, you place the bag of macarons on his bedside table, mostly an excuse to inspect his face closer.

His brows are furrowed, and a thin layer of sweat is on his forehead, even in his sleep. He looks nicer in casual clothes and his hair free from products.

A bowl of water is near his head, with a towel sitting in the bottom.

“You get really sick when you get it, huh?” you muse to no one in particular, gently wiping the sweat off his forehead. Then to his neck, where the warmth of his fever nearly burns you just by hovering close.

Lyney shifts a little. You pause with bated breath. Still, he doesn’t wake up.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, taking the bowl in your hands.

His nose is really red. You shouldn’t be finding it cute—really, what’s wrong with you recently?

But your movement brushed against the blanket over his torso and, with it, came revealing the side of his waist. His stomach is wrapped with bandages, and a spot of dried blood is seeping in on the bandage on his side.

Your eyes widen in horror, nearly making a loud, indecipherable noise before you catch yourself.

You rush to the door, finding Lynette in the same spot of the loveseat where you left her. Her eyes flick up to you, brows arched in surprise.

“Lynette, he—”

She catches on quickly. “He’s alright,” Lynette says, though her ears are curled back in distress. “He’s been given help. We knew of someone affiliated with Hydro and its healing properties. He’s alright.”

Well. Of course, she knew; she’s his sister. You can’t bear the thought of Lyney in the middle of a thunderstorm, finding himself in front of Lynette, bleeding. You feel sick just thinking about it. You can’t possibly imagine what Lynette has been going through, having to take care of her brother by herself.

You hesitate. “Can I come back here tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Wait—really?”

Lynette pauses. “Should I have not said yes?”

“I just thought you’d be a little more stern with me because of… you know…”

“I respect those who put my brother in his place,” Lynette says, then: “And those who don’t run from us when they find out what our identities are,” and that’s that.

“You brought a flower,” is the first thing Lynette says as soon as she opens the door the following morning.

“He gives me one every visit,” you explain, and you’re not quite sure why it’s humiliating to do so. “So, I want to pay him back at least this once.”

“Rainbow Rose,” Lynette notes as she shuts the door softly. You follow her into Lyney’s room, but she halts before you two can reach the door at arm’s length. “Do you know what this one means?”

You look at the Rainbow Rose nestled in your palm. It's been well taken care of since he gave it to you—all of them had been. “No, I can’t say that I do…?”

“He’s given everyone else Lumidouce Bells because this flower is a little more special.”

Lynette reaches for your hand, gently pushing the Rainbow Rose until you’re holding it against your chest.

She looks into your eyes. “That flower is like him giving his heart to you. Please, take care of it some more. Don’t give it back, okay?”

And as you mull over her words, she leaves. And left you standing in front of Lyney’s room alone, with your entire face feeling as if it’s been burnt by the sun.

But this is no time for distractions, no matter the implications. Lyney still hasn’t woken up yet, and it’s time to pay him back. He deserves that much.

“You finally feel better?”

Lyney blinks. Or, at least, he tries to, but his eyes weigh heavier than usual. He lays back down and chooses to close them back again. “Ugh…” he rasps out, “Lynette. My side is still hurting a little, but it’s much more bearable than yesterday. I thought I was about to die!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lynette says, handing him a glass of water. “You already caused quite a scene.”

“Hmmm?” Lyney answers absentmindedly, finding himself ready to fall asleep again.

“You didn’t get injured yesterday. That was five days ago. And the bakery shop owner kept coming over every day.”

Lyney’s eyes definitely open at that. “What did you say?”

Lynette’s tail flicks. “The bakery has been closed for about four days now, and no one else but I know that it’s because the person responsible for it has been here in this room instead, taking care of you. It was even on The Steambird.”

Lyney’s finding it difficult to catch up. “Wait… wait. Are you saying…”

“You made Y/N, Freminet, and I worry so much, you know,” she chides.

Lyney’s heart shatters. “Does that mean—my wound—”

“I wasn’t the one changing your bandages,” Lynette says with a tiny smile as she watches her brother’s face explode in red. “Do you still feel tired?”

“Not at all!” Lyney springs up from his bed, his grin wild and insane. His side will most definitely punish him for this, but that’s far in the back of his mind. “Ah, so Y/N does care. All my efforts weren’t in vain!”

Lynette sighs, but still stays to listen.

“And—bandaging my wounds? While I was out cold? How intimate… My heart is racing at the thought of it.” He clutches his chest, because it’s true despite his dramatics.

“I’ve never seen Y/N before; I’ve only heard of what you told me every time you came back from the bakery,” Lynette starts, urging him to lie back down. She presses a towel on his forehead, and he yelps because it feels ice-cold. “But you seem wrong about every assumption, Lyney. I know the face of someone who cares.”

Lyney falters, his expression softening impossibly. “Y/N’s not mad I missed out on the show I promised…?”

“Y/N was worried about the same thing, but in your shoes.”

Lyney hides his face with his hands, but that’s a fruitless attempt. Lynette has a clear view of his red ears. “I can’t tell if I’m elated or mortified,” he groans. “Both, perhaps?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Lynette says, getting up at the same time the door swings open.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” you exclaim, though hushedly. “Lynette, I brought food to eat. Here, help yourself. Has Lyney woken up yet?”

“Oh, he…” Lynette takes your handmade lunch and glances down at her brother, briefly surprised to see him with his eyes shut and his breathing as steady as it had been when he was sleeping. “Excuse me, I want to eat.”

“Wait, Lynette—” you start, but Lynette is already walking away and eventually shuts the door. She must be very excited to eat her food.

You turn to Lyney, and the world falls silent. Lyney doesn’t know why he’s terrified of you finding out he’s awake. Was it guilt? Shame for a promised night in ruin, or humiliation for seeing him at his lowest point? He grips the sheet under the blanket tighter. His heart racing seems like it’s neither of those.

“Hello again, Lyney,” you say in a low whisper, and all of a sudden, his grip loosens, and his shoulders lose tension. “You should wake up soon. I promised Lynette I’d bake your favorite dessert if you do.”

You're not expecting any reply, ceremoniously reaching for the towel on his bedside table, like you’ve lived here as much as he has been.

The steady beat of your heart calms him, and he wonders how you aren’t hearing how fast his is beating yet.

Lyney finds himself enjoying being under your tender care, until the warmth on his side disappears and he panics instantly. His eyes fly open just in time for him to see you leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Lyney slips, instinctively reaching out to hold your head in place.

You both freeze, staring at each other wide-eyed.

His thoughts race. Four days. You’ve closed the bakery shop you swore to him you wouldn’t ever abandon just for anyone—yet you did for him. You’ve been taking care of him. And kissing his cheek, for god’s sake. Four days you’ve been caring for him so sweetly, and he wasn’t awake enough to experience all of it himself.

“You’re—you’re awake!” you exclaim, your hands on both of his cheeks. “Lyney, oh, you’re— Wait, how long have you been—”

Lyney silences you with a kiss on the side of your mouth. He smiles at your dumbfounded expression. “You shouldn’t promise my dessert,” he says, and he winces when his voice doesn’t come out as smoothly as intended. “I don’t want any more promises to break.”

“You didn’t break any promise, Lyney,” you say softly, and he blinks when your eyes glisten. “You’re awake right now, aren’t you?”

“Then,” he straightens to sit up, grinning, “let me make it up to you. I promised you a night you would never forget, didn’t I?”

A/N not another lyney fic...

[raerae2727]

Shopping with different OP characters!!

GN! reader, established relationship

warnings: stealing, doflamingo is an ASSHOLE

Includes: Crocodile, Nami, Doflamingo, Law, Kidd

My materialistic side really shows here💀

~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~ ~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~

Crocodile

You had been begging Crocodile to take a break and go out with you all day. He really wanted to get work done, but just to shut you up, he finally agreed. You get all dressed up for a luxurious private dinner and afterwards the two of you take a walk through the city for some shopping, which is always fun with Crocodile’s bottomless wallet. As you’re walking, cozy underneath his big coat, a beautiful top catches your eye. You run up to the store window in awe of the striking piece that looks like it was made just for you.

“Wow, look at this one…” you say, trying to avoid flat out asking for it. You give him your best puppy dog eyes, fluttering your lashes as you blink innocently.

He knows what you want and responds, “you have a strange taste in fashion, but I’ll tell you what,” he chuckles and pulls out his wallet, “I’ll buy it for you if you let me choose something I want to see you in.”

You feign surprise, widening your eyes as you answer, “Really?” He laughs and pats your back, leading you inside the store.

Nami

Nami always ends up spending too much Beri when she goes shopping, and it’s even worse when she’s with you because she just can’t say no. So when the crew docks at a new island, the two of you agree not to spend any money on new clothes. Of course, a high end boutique catches your eye and you give Nami a mischievous glance, communicating you were gonna go in whether she wanted you to or not.

“I only want to try stuff on, I swear!” You exclaim over your shoulder.

“Fine, but don’t even try to convince me to pay for anything!” Your girlfriend tries to act annoyed, but her wide grin reveals her entertainment at your antics. Every time you show interest in something, Nami takes it into the dressing room next to you. You thought it was weird because the two of you have fairly different tastes. When you eventually leave the boutique, She pulls you close and opens her purse with a giggle to reveal all the clothes she had shoplifted for you. “See babe, I told you I wouldn’t pay for anything!”

Doflamingo

It’s a lazy Sunday morning for you and the King, lounging in bed with silk robes and the finest quality coffee. You’re flipping through a magazine while he reads some book about war strategy. “Doffy, what do you think about this one?” You ask. You don’t even have to consider money, Doflamingo can afford anything.

“Hmm…” he thinks for a minute, “I don’t think that’s your color.” You sigh. He always has to control everything. “What about this?” He points out something much more pink and extravagant.

“Why does everything always have to go your way?” You whine, fed up with his ego.

“You need to look good next to me,” he states firmly, putting an arm around your shoulder. “I have a reputation to uphold. Are you seriously not willing to sacrifice your fashion taste in exchange for everything else I give you?” The last thing you want is a fight, so you just rest your head on his chest as he calls in an attendant to order his picks for you.

Law

You had managed to drag Law to the mall with you, promising to go to the pawn shop with him afterwards to look for rare commemorative coins for his collection. When you see the cutest, chubbiest seal plushie ever, you know you have to have it. The only issue is that you have no money. Holding it behind your back, you turn to your boyfriend. “Law,” You begin your pitch, trying to look as cute and convincing as possible. “You really, really love me, right?” You tease.

“Of course I love you,” he answers, “but what are you scheming?”

You reveal the plushie to him and squeeze its cheeks. “I need this.”

He tries to hide his amused smile from you - you look so cute when you’re happy and he suddenly has the best worst idea ever.

“No, you don’t need it. You want it.” He takes the plushie from you. “Maybe another time, sorry babe.”

After a long day with your boyfriend, you had forgotten all about the seal plushie. The two of you arrive home and when he shuts the door he turns to you with a wide grin.

“What’s that look for?” You question playfully. He reaches into the shopping bag you made him carry and pulls out the chubby seal. You grab it from his hand and give him a lighthearted slap to the arm. “Law! You liar!”

Kidd

“Kidd, look at this!” You call to him while adjusting a choker around your neck. “Should I buy it?” You immediately regret showing him when a mischievous gleam lights up his eyes.

“Buy it?” Kidd taunts, reaching over to fasten the choker for you before grabbing several more. You’re frozen in place as he decks you out in accessories.

“What are you doing?” You question, “We can’t afford this!”

“You look cool!” He ruffles your hair and grins before whispering, “Now leave quick while I’m distracting the cashier.”

“Are you crazy?!” You whisper-yell. (Even though you already know the answer is yes.)

A shopkeeper interrupts your bickering, making you jump. “No playing dress-up in the store! Either pay or leave!” He scolds.

“Okay, bye then!” Kidd says to the shopkeeper before effortlessly throwing you over his shoulder and disappearing out the door.

~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~-.-~~

Thanks for reading!! Sorry for the doffy part

[taelophone]

Masterpiece ݁₊ ⊹ ݁ || Ex?Luigi Mangione x Ghoster!Reader TWs: Reader is an actual supervillain, fire/animal symbolism, smut w plot, penetration, blood mention, fingering, finger sucking, spanking, hate-fucking, toxic relationships, dark-ish elements, baby trapping if you squint, arguing, again reader is a supervillain, cocky Luigi, crying, overstim, brat-taming elements, etc. A/N: This is like. Seriously depraved work😭

In your defense, the universe always tends towards disorder.

Anyone who passed grade school level chemistry could recite this law to you like it was imprinted on the back of their hand. So it was only human nature.

It had been about 5 months since you last spoke to your nerd. That’s around one-hundred and fifty-two days without his coco brown curls against your chest while he told you about his little machinery and computer nonsense while you tuned his words out as you scrolled on your phone.

You let him follow you around like a lost puppy, trailing behind you at events as you held his hand with an iron-clad bite. You do love him, really. He’s adorable, he’s smart, he’s hot.

But you just couldn’t stay tied to anyone for too long.

So as your texts slowly shifted in the blue-to-grey ratio, Luigi found himself holed up more frequently in his room, click-click-clacking away on his computer as sadness and confusion engulfed him.

Did he do something wrong? Was he too clingy? What could he possibly have done to deter you so far away from him for so long?

Time and days slipped through the cracks of his hands like scalding water; burning him with scars only evident to those that got too close to his fingers. He didn’t want to elaborate, he just wanted his baby back.

And in typical nerd fashion, what did he do? Take it out on his craft.

Hunched over the silver laptop, deep black bags under his eyes while he scanned the typed binary over and over. It still wasn’t working. The dumb robot couldn’t pick up on certain commands and froze whenever he tried to raise an arm for it to copy.

He huffed in genuine frustration, trying his hardest not to shatter the computer with his own two hands. It didn’t help that he was in constant disarray, his usually organized and neat surroundings lacking their usual order.

He was always an empathetic and caring man, putting others' needs and wants before his. He felt for those around him in a way that others normally wouldn’t. So yeah, he cried a little bit. What he thought was a deep and stable connection to someone he found so tantalizingly perfect turned out to be trivial to you!

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as his vision fogged. So much stress for one person wasn’t anywhere near healthy, but something had to give. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

He’d feel better when he finished his code. He’d be able to breathe when he breathed life into something else that wasn't a relationship. All he wanted to do was prove to himself that he wasn’t a total failure, and could still do something right.

Tidal waves crashed against him, the bitter salt streaming down his face as he sucked in a deep, shaky breath in an almost pathetic fashion. This is why she wanted nothing to do with me, he thought. He was an unpredictable, emotional, unorganized mess. 

There’s no way in hell someone would want to be tied to this–

Ding!

What the hell?

His brows pinched together, the wet anguish slowly coming to a halt as he picked up his phone from the table.

“hey…U awake ?”

He stared at the text, dazed and confused as his meltdown began to subside, only for it to be replaced with a whirlwind of panic. Luigi had no idea what to say. He was upset that you dared to waltz back into his recents like nothing ever happened, but he was so. So. SO. SO SO SO SO SO down to have you back.

He paused, thinking it over in his head, outweighing the pros and cons of responding or even opening the message. He didn’t wanna cry again, but he also didn’t wanna fuck up the opportunity to hold you and bask in your sweet, candy-like scent again.

You burned his tongue and thoughts like war, your everlasting enchantments invading his head every time he dared to glance at the first initial of your name. With a hand squeezed over his mouth, his pointer finger gently nudging the bottom of his nose, he picked up the phone as his large thumbs began to type in his password.

He didn’t want to answer immediately, out of fear that his quick and compliant response would scare you away like it might have done last time. Instead, he paced around his room a couple of times. He hopped, skipped, and almost flipped as he worked up the balls to open the message.

And then, he typed.

He typed for what felt like years, centuries even. But only managed to type a couple of sentences before deleting a good two-thirds of the remainder.

“ Hey! Listen, I understand you’re probably going through something and reached out bc you’ve processed some things that led to you ghosting me, but for the sake of my health, I can’t keep you around anymore. I’ve been piecing together my mental stability for a while now, and I think I should keep working on myself. ”

Ouch.

“ Oh, ok sorry I’ll go . “

“ Actually, fuck it I'm healed. Come over ”

Read 12:57 AM.

My Dear💟 reacted with👍

Double ouch.

Luigi lacked the ability to stand up whenever necessary. You knew that. It was a very easy conclusion to come to when all he did was people-please. The way his eyes scanned certain faces for subconscious approval said it all.

You threw on your grey sweater, dark blue denim jeans, and a random pair of socks before sliding on your Uggs and slamming the front door behind you. You didn’t really expect Luigi to be so…compliant. You didn’t even say anything, he just…folded.

You figured he’d be upset, or put up at least a semblance of a fight, but no. He welcomed you back with almost puppy-like resolve.

Luigi sped around his room, quickly straightening up his home like his life depended on it, and in a way, it did. You were his entire life, and he didn’t want to scare you away again with his unorganized and messy bullshit. He did his best to cover up his deteriorating mind, dressing up his room in faux warmth that he knew you’d probably be able to spot as soon as you walked in.

Things were back in their respective places, the big light was off, little lamps and ambient lights were on, and his work could be pushed to the side for a minute longer.

With his room straightened, he stumbled into his bathroom to fix his curls. He got a good look in the mirror before realizing why beauty brands made concealer and letting out a frustrated groan. He wet his curls, gently bringing the coco spirals back to life with his hands before brushing his teeth like a madman.

He could feel lady doom lingering closer and closer the longer time had passed. Her footsteps of feminine fright would soon reach his front door, and he knew he’d have to pick up the pieces of the ruins later. But he was fine with that.

In fact, he wanted you to wreck the ruins again. Your presence, and absence, had been the biggest motivating force for him to do better, even if it meant he was at his worst. His tears would drip down onto his keyboard in the days to come, and he’d grow angrier with himself for allowing this to happen for a second time.

But he loved the disorder. He’s never pushed out more concepts and projects in his life. Your chaos completed part of his brain that lacked spontaneity. He could plug you into any part of his mind, and you’d quickly help him solve any formula or theorem. Sanity be damned, you were great for him in the worst way possible.

Pain was a fierce motivator, but he’d let himself be scorched and burned in your arms every day if it meant he could keep all the pieces of his mind working.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the front door swing open, and for a second he swore he heard thunder crack and pop when you revealed yourself in the doorframe, your ringlet keychain spinning around on your pointer finger.

You waltzed in like you owned the place, gently pushing the door shut before making quick work of shuffling your shoes off by the door.

“Lui!” You called, setting your keys on the side table and making your way to Luigi’s room.

And there he was before you, in his tired, muscular, and disheveled glory. He looked like he had been crying. His eyes were slightly puffy, the tip of his nose was faintly red, and he clearly wasn’t focused on keeping up with his now stubbling beard.

“Hi, Lulu” you purred, standing up on your tiptoes to lace your arms around his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

“Hey, love…” he sighed, immediately wrapping his arms around the small of your back and hoisting you up to carry you the rest of the way to his room. “How’ve you been?”

“Ugh, terrible” you huffed, rolling your eyes as you took in the familiar, warmly-lit room. “I’ve been so tired, and my nail lady canceled on me.”

Luigi chuckled, more-or-so at the irony of your problems compared to his. You seemed completely unaffected by ghosting him. Ouch, number three.

“But I missed you…” you mused, running your fingertip along the arch of his nose teasingly.

“Did you?” He asked, raising a very unamused eyebrow as he gently grabbed your wrist, plopping himself down on the edge of his bed with you in his lap.

“Mhm…Sooo much. Sorry I flaked on you, I was going through something” You smiled, mashing your lips against his to prevent him from asking any more questions. You chuckled onto his lips gripping the back of his neck in a way you know you definitely shouldn’t be.

He winced, instinctively reaching for your hand before you smacked it away. A nonverbal way of saying “Leave it alone.”

He groaned in a mix of pain and slight frustration, opening his eyes a fraction to shoot you an unamused glare. “Whats…going on with you,” he asked between hot and fervent kisses.

“Not sure…” You panted, full-on yanking the back of his hair just to leave purple and blue marks all across his jugular. You were a little mean, which you acknowledged, so you let go of his fistful of hair before peppering gentle kisses to his face. “Sorry.”

Luigi sighed, holding you as close as possible while you pecked the tip of his nose. 

“What is it with you and my nose, baby? You do this every time you come see me…” He chuckled, a cocky grin forming on his face.

“You have no idea how gorgeous it is…like, none at all” You stated, smiling at him before leaning forward to push him on his back and just lay on top of him. “It’s perfect, really.”

“Weirdo…” He teased.

“Watch your mouth, Luigi” You quipped, giggling quietly at his sass before rolling off of him and getting comfortable between his sheets.

“You came all the way to my house…to sleep in my bed?” He asked, propping himself up as he stared at you with genuine confusion.

“What?” You asked, leaning up from his fluffy blankets to stare at him blankly. “You don’t want me sleeping here? Want me to go do something else?”

“No, no no you’re fine, you’re fine” he stated, shaking his head instantly as he pressed a firm hand to your chest to keep you from getting up. “Nap, sleep, die, anything you do is fine. Wait don’t die…”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes in amusement as you pulled him closer to you by his wrist. 

“You’re being so shy, come here…” You mused, positioning him next to you as you wrapped your arms around his neck again. “Tell me about your day. What’d you do today, handsome?”

He practically swooned as soon as you asked him about his day. He giggled quietly, fanboying like some sort of geek interacting with his fictional crush for the first time.

“My day was…it was fine,” He lied, ignoring the fact that he had been crying just 30 minutes earlier. “I fixed some of my code today, and… that’s it.”

You nodded, gently carding your hand through his hair while he rested the side of his head against your chest.

You hummed, nodding at his short little daily summary. He wasn’t really the type to do absolutely nothing all day, so hearing him essentially say he did nothing all day was kind of a shock.

“What? That’s it?” You teased, giving him a look of feigned shock. “I would have at least expected you to go on a jog or something…” 

“Well I did go on jogs, but my motivation significantly decreased since you ghosted me” He spat, shooting you a sassy and serious glare.

“I said I was sorry, Lu. I fell on dark times and shit, my bad!” You huffed, rolling your eyes at his sudden spite. Brat.

“Dark times but you’re going on bar-crawls and getting your nails done every two weeks…you could have at least blocked me” He huffed.

Luigi turned his face to look up at you, and for the first time in over 5 months, you came face-to-face with his vulnerability. He was hurt, and he did have some right to be, but you did what you told yourself was helping you feel better. So what if that involved having fun? You’re a grown woman.

“Oh, because turning to bars and fucking up my sleep schedule and academics is sooooo fun. Thanks, Luigi” You drawled, watching as his dark and heavy brows cinched together with repulsion.

“I don’t wanna hear that. You know damn well that’s not what was happening–”

“You weren’t there!” You shouted, immediately taking your hands off of him and throwing them up in defense.

“And who’s fault is that?” He exclaimed, giving you the most irritated and know-it-all glare ever. “I reached out every day for two months, only to get one-word responses, brushed off, any bullshit you could find in the hat! YOU are the reason I wasn’t there!”

You were nothing short of over it. You groaned, throwing your head back in bitter anger as his unfortunately correct point hit you. There wasn’t shit you could say about that.

“I wasn’t doing good, Luigi!” You growled, slowly standing up from his bed. “I just kept making stupid decisions, and I felt like you weren’t going to love me anymore!”

“When have I EVER made you feel like I was going to stop loving you!?” He stated, his arms outstretched in a half-shrug. He was growing more and more impatient with your excuses. All he really wanted to hear from you was that you were sorry.

You let out a long, drawn-out groan as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You stared at him, his arms crossed and his face slightly scrunched as he stared back at you.

“I’m not gonna keep doing this with you,” You huffed, shaking your head while your pointer and middle finger rubbed your temples.

“Oh, so you don't wanna talk now that you don't have a point. Of course. Totally” He nodded, irritants clear on his face as he rolled his eyes.

“I just fucking hate feeling like I’m being antagonized, Luigi!” You huffed, throwing your hands in the air in defense. “You’re antagonizing me when I said I was going through a rough patch, do you know how evil that is!?”

He went completely silent. He just stared down at you with a mix of disbelief and frustrated disdain. He bent down a bit, placing his hands on his knees as he got as close as he wanted to.

The anger in his eyes rivaled that of the goddess Lyssa, the flames of onyx searing permanent wounds into your own. It was hot. Literally.

You straightened your posture a bit for the first time in a while, daring him to say something so you could meet him with a remark just as scorching.

The floor below you was beginning to cover with soot and ash, the embers of venomous attraction breaking off and cracking on the floor.

You couldn’t help but smirk at his rabid anger; it was involuntary. Your dulled and dainty fangs flashed in front of him, a crooked and twisted smile overtaking your face as you fought the urge to laugh.

The smoke fizzled off of him, filling the poorly ventilated room rapidly as he scowled down at you.

“You’re terrible. You like arguing, and that’s scary—“ he began, each syllable aiming to draw a new coat of ruby-red lacerations across your heart. But it all stopped when he felt a pair of lips mash against his own.

He sighed internally, wasting no time in wrapping his arms around your waist as the gears of the cycle fell back into place. There wasn’t any escaping at this point. He was used to the crying, the sleepless nights, and all of the fresh coats of pain you could pull from him.

You giggled drunkenly, high on the poison that emitted from the pair of you. You slipped your tongue past his lips, invading as much personal space as you could in such a short amount of time.

You went to speak, pulling away from him momentarily in hopes of landing another jab at him, only to yelp at a sharp sting on the back of your behind.

“Shut up,” he commanded, sparing you not so much as a second glance as he brought his hand up to the back of your neck. “You talk too much.”

His sharp and pointed canines pulled at the bottom of your lip, the fear of broken skin lingering in the back of your mind as the sizzling pain caused you to shudder.

Your lips reunited in a searing, iron-enriched kiss as you snaked your hands around his hair, tugging on it like it was your only chance at a semblance of vengeance. 

Luigi groaned, practically growling at you before he scooped you off the ground by the back of your thighs to throw you back down on his messy and crinkled sheets.

“I fuckin’ HATE you!” You spat, narrowing your eyes at him with a downright feral and harrowing smile.

He scoffed, smushing your cheeks together between his thumb and the remainder of his fingers until the skeleton of your teeth pushed against him. 

“Didn’t I say shut up? I swear I said stop talking…” He scolded, landing another sharp smack to the side of your thigh that had you flinching away from his free hand.

A quiet whine emitted from you as you made no attempts to wriggle away from him as he left hickey after hickey along the exposed expanse of your neck and shoulders.

He loomed over top of you, evidence of his growing lust straining against the fabric of his grey sweatpants. He took one look at you, tilting his head to the side a little as if he were trying to solve another one of his stupid computer problems.

Picking you apart with his eyes, he was. Your feral, lust-blown eyes, messy and slightly frizzy hair, the way your chest heaved up and down in heavy pants. Yeah, it’s over.

He hooked his hand under your sweater, glancing at you briefly for confirmation before pulling it over your head in a matter of seconds.

“Lied to my face for a whole 10 minutes…dark times my ass, you‘ve got some nerve” he rasped, his eyes raking over the absolute art of you in nothing but jean shorts and a pretty little bra.

“Stop calling me a fucking liar, bitch” you spat, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I’m calling you a fucking liar,” he stated, tugging down your shorts with little care of if it hurt you or not. The fabric swept down your thighs with a burning resistance, the little zipper on the front popping immediately.

His strong hands ripped the cotton fabric of your panties, frayed and torn fabric resting on the bed before another sharp slap landed on the side of your thigh again. There was no filter to block you from his frustration this time, a loud cry fleeing from your lips as you flinched away from the sensation.

“Cried too fuckin’ much for you to look me in my face and say your day was terrible cuz your nails were late…cry me a river” he huffed, pressing his thumb to your clit.

You cried in ecstasy and slight shock. Normally Luigi was so very gentle, carrying everything in his hands with practiced cherish. Tech was fragile, and with as many years he had spent with it, he had learned to move and grasp with the strength of a newborn deer.

But all you could sense when his fingers began to maneuver around your folds, spreading your essence around was heated malice.

Right now, he hated your guts. And what do you do to something you hate?

Destroy it, of course.

You moaned as quietly as you could as his fingers bullied their way into your glistening cunt. It’s hard to focus on being mad at someone when their pretty fingers are curling so deliciously against that spongy spot inside of you that reduces you to a moaning and panting mess.

“Yeah…can‘t really talk when I’m fucking you good, hm?” He patronized, literally looking down at you as his free hand came to grasp the sides of your throat.

You grasped his wrist, squeezing at the prominent veins as you stared up at him through half-lidded eyes. You smiled, your whine turning into involuntary giggles.

“Fuck…you..” you spat in between oxygen-induced delirium, your cheeks feeling warm as the sticky, sloppy noises filled the otherwise quiet room.

“You will soon,” he mumbled, taking his hand off your throat to press it over your mouth while he got to work on leaving more hickeys across your chest. Deep burgundy and purple were sure to liter your entire upper body in the morning.

He continued his brutal and rapid pace as his middle and ring finger slid in and out of you with no resistance. The sounds that he managed to coerce from you were sinful; pants of his name, whines and gasps of “please” and “keep going.”

“Actually I think I wanna hear you…” He hummed, removing his hand from your mouth as soon as he began to feel you clench down on his fingers.

You twisted and writhed under him, not wanting to give the satisfaction of pulling an orgasm from you so quickly. 

“Aww…it’s ok, you can give up,” he cooed, smiling down at you as your muscles tensed and flexed.

You froze, the rubber band that had been coiling and twisting snapping with the force of heavy thunder. It was a painfully conscious effort not to scream as Luigi’s skillful fingers caressed and coaxed your sensitive clit into crying over him.

And she wept, spilling the secrets you would never she mimicked the heavy tears Luigi had dropped nights before. Pulsing and squeezing as he withdrew his fingers, popping them in his own mouth to lick them clean.

“I love you,” he truthed, gazing down at you to take in your blissed-out and teary expression.

The baby hairs stuck to your forehead, the artificial twinkle in your eyes, and the little part in your mouth as you panted to catch your breath.

“I…I ha-hate you—!” You fibbed, watching the way he arched a brow and grabbed your ankle.

“Oh so we’re still lying,” he said, hoisting your ankle over his shoulder before pushing down his sweatpants. “Cute socks,” he added before pressing a feather-light kiss on the lateral side of your ankle.

“Lying isn’t good for the soul…We’re gonna fix that,” he said, freeing his heavy and lengthy dick from his prisoning boxers.

You chuckled, not being able to form a coherent thought as venom and euphoria swirled in your mind. He tapped his fat, grapefruit-pink tip on your pearly little clit, chuckling quietly at the way you jolted from the sensation.

“Tell me about…your shitty 5 months…” he groaned, a whine highlighting the end of his words as he slowly pushed into you, spearing you open as his right hand came to rest next to your head.

Your hands came up to his back, clawing at the tanned skin as you moaned directly in his ear.

“You suck, Luigi…” you mewled, eyes rolling to the back of their sockets. That stupid joke he consistently cracked about his PhD was no joke, and he was giving you all the proof you needed.

“You’re a nightmare,” you began, frantic butterflies zooming through your stomach as he began to slowly piston in and out of you. “So fffucking clingy…! Wish I never fuckin’ met you.”

“You’re no better” he grunted, swiftly sliding the hand that was next to your head under your neck, forcing your head upwards so you could look him in the eyes. 

“Manipulative…conniving…perfect…hot fuckin’ mess” He babbled, a ghost of a smirk forming on his face as he felt you place your other ankle over his shoulder.

He moved his hand from the back of your neck to your knee, keeping it secure in place as he began to rapidly increase in pace. His hips rocked against yours, low grunts and pathetic whines falling from his mouth as he stared down at you with a mix of desire and exasperation.

“Keep…fuckin’ talking,” he panted, using his free hand to press against the bulge he consistently created in your womb. “Tell me how I suck.”

At this point, you were full-on moaning and crying. He invaded every single one of your senses like some sort of sex parasite, blocking the receptors in your brain that allowed you to think properly.

He was everywhere; In front of you, inside of you, all in your guts as your poor achy cunt fell victim to his bullying.

“Pretentious…Asshole! I said what I said,” you said in between gasps of breath that came increasingly rare as Luigi ravaged you whole.

He chuckled, bringing both of his hands to the back of your thighs and pushing them up against your shoulders just so he could get in your face. 

“You say that but you’re squeezing me like a fuckin’ hug…” he growled, knitting his brows together in ecstasy.

He was furious; fucking all of his anger into you, watching as your body jumped with the force of his thrusts. He could see why people lost their minds to women, running to grab a pencil and paper to capture the essence of someone doing something as mundane as changing their clothes.

Your hands clawing into his back, sharp enough to draw predatory reminders of red-hot passion every time he went to the gym. Your face scrunched up in euphoria as you fought to keep eye contact, the way he held you down like a ferocious beast as he threatened to put an end to your primitive barbarity.

He couldn’t capture this in code, absolutely not. He envied the artist who could recreate this scene from memory later on in the small frame of a sketchbook or the tall stature of a canvas. Art is beautiful in all its subjective beauty, and you were his perfect moving masterpiece.

He groaned and gigged into your neck as he leaned down, sucking on the sensitive flesh while he did his best to knock some sense, or maybe even a baby, into you. When he felt your velvety and warm walls begin to flutter and twitch around him, only then did he come back up to ask.

“You miss me?”

“Fuck yes, oh my god so much…” you babbled, your waterline brimming with tears as you struggled to even conceptualize the man above you. Your stomach jolted and fluttered with want, your ears rang with need, your hands scratched with fever, and your mind fogged with lust.

The coil deep within you snapped, prompting a string of swears to fly from your lips as you painted Luigi with your pearly-white release, flashes of what you could only believe to be heaven dancing behind your eyelids as your mind dished out one last command to regain a semblance of control.

Your ankles wrapped around Luigi’s waist, trapping him against you as his moans turned into high and breathy wines.

He painted your insides a new shade of angelic white, stiffing against you as he cried out your name in blissful ecstasy. 

He collapsed on top of you, huffing and puffing as he registered the little move you pulled.

“And you said you didn’t like me…”

[ayakashiz]

Alien Stage R6 Analysis

VERY LONG compilation of my interpretations, impressions and unanswered questions about Round 6 of Alien Stage. I just wanted to write this to put all my thoughts in one place so I can finally rest (in pieces). TW for mentions of suic*de/suic*dal ideation.

The most debated is no doubt the kiss/choking scene and Ivan’s motivation for doing so in the first place. 

I think from the very beginning, even before R3, Ivan was planning to go out with a bang. That’s the immediate impression I got from the comic where he mocks/criticizes Sua for planning to “selfishly” die for Mizi and feel good being the “heroine” rather than having to deal with the trauma of being the one left behind. 

(I'm too lazy to edit the whole translation as of now, but might do so when I have more time.)

Ivan tells her how he’s “relieved that he’s not the only who’s that twisted” = He’s comparing himself to Sua. He thinks they’re both ‘twisted’ for planning to do the same thing, but from Ivan’s perspective, he at least isn’t fooling himself into thinking his motives are altruistic. He tasted the feeling of being ‘abandoned’, and he knows he doesn’t want to experience it twice. 

He also probably thought that his death wouldn’t be as impactful on Till as Sua’s death on Mizi, and therefore his own selfishness is more justified in his mind. This most likely plays a role in how cold and biting his words are towards Sua –he’s jealous of that difference between them.

I hadn’t noticed this detail the first time I watched the video: Not only did Till look absolutely miserable and defeated from the get go, but he completely gave up and stopped singing at some point. If you look at the video, we can hear the audio that was supposed to be sung, but Till is quiet and still, and THIS is the moment Ivan chooses to act.

Although they do not show the votes at that particular moment, stopping mid song would have definitely taken a hit to Till’s score as it’s basically forfeiting –a huge contrast to his previous match where he didn’t even let his opponent utter a single line.

In response, Ivan doesn’t just walk towards him but throws his microphone to the ground, explicitly forfeiting as well in order to then pull a drastic move like it was foreshadowed in his interview.

The kiss itself imo was the less calculated/arguably unplanned part. He could have just choked Till from the start and it would have gotten him the same if not better results (since it was the act of violence against another contestant that ultimately lowered his score and got the counter to stop). 

That kiss was authentic and for himself entirely, both as a last desperate attempt at conveying his feelings and a selfish way of leaving a strong impression on Till that he wouldn’t be able to forget (a hypocritical move going back to how he criticized Sua). In that sense, I don’t think Ivan was seriously trying to take Till down with him –although that’s up to interpretation. As I see it, that would contradict his actions up until that point.

Till was VERY CLEARLY suic*dal (once again, he gave up singing), and after the initial shock of Ivan squeezing his neck, this fiery, rebellious man who is KNOWN to fight tooth and nail, simply closed his eyes and relaxed his body, waiting for Ivan to end him without fighting at all. 

The thing is, no matter how suic*dal one may be, the fighting response when being actually suffocated is automatic and completely involuntary. People mention there not being marks on Till’s neck but I think the most telling sign is him not going red, not squirming, not struggling or holding onto Ivan’s wrists (again, expected involuntary responses), his eyes not watering or having blurry vision while we see Ivan from his POV, not opening his mouth even a little to gasp for air and not coughing or gasping either when he was finally released.

Ivan definitely had him in a strong grip, might have even made him a bit lightheaded, but the reason why Till could look so relaxed in the first place is because he had given up and was waiting for Ivan to go ahead. If his closed eyes and limp posture were due to the choking itself, he would have fallen or stumbled when being let go, but we see that his eyes open as soon as he feels Ivan’s hands slipping away and he looks shocked instead.

So then what was Ivan’s motivation, if not to kill him? Yes, there’s the already discussed plan to get himself disqualified. But Ivan glances at the screen only a few seconds after he starts the choking, confirming that the voting had in fact stopped with Till having the higher score. He then goes for one last ‘goodbye’ kiss before continuing to choke him, holding his grip even as he starts getting shot.

We see a closeup of him, his eyes and hands trembling, looking more frustrated/emotional than in Till’s first POV where he looks rather stoic. It makes me think that the reason he refused to let go was simply because he wanted Till to look at him. 

They strongly imply throughout the whole video that being annoying or mean or violent was the only way Ivan learnt how to make Till focus his full attention on him, but now even as he’s threatening his life, even as he himself is dying, even after that kiss, Till wouldn’t look. 

It took him getting fatally wounded and realizing there was no turning back to reach a state of acceptance. His bittersweet expression here reminds me A LOT of his smile after Till runs back during the meteor scene, although this one seems a lot more tender. He seems to accept the fact that Till will never love him back, but Ivan cannot stop loving him anyways and he at least got to put his feelings out there. 

(The parallels here are driving me insane. The way there is light in his eyes in both instances as he looks at Till even while 'losing him' in a way. The struggle between wanting to posses him yet realizing his free spirit/strong will is part of what he loves about him. That last genuine gaze from a character who spent his whole life putting on a mask. Yes I am very normal about this.)

Until then, Ivan’s more tender/vulnerable side is only shown while Till is unconscious or looking away.

(That soft, loving nuzzle to Till's face has me in SHAMBLES.)

But ironically, it’s only when he releases him and shows him this vulnerability without a mask that Till really looks at him for the first time. I’d go as far as to say that it was this moment, and not the kiss, that finally made Till understand Ivan’s feelings. And in turn Ivan gets that little shot of euphoria as he falls to the ground.

Going back to the survivor’s guilt… I can only imagine it’ll go completely downhill for Till from now on. Not only does he already think Mizi might be dead and is angry at himself that he couldn’t save her (as seen in the shot where he punches his own picture), but now he has most likely realized that Ivan intentionally fumbled their match for his sake –which would lead to the realization that he was the reason why Ivan chose to run back to Anakt Garden after him in the first place, and that choice ultimately lead to his death. 

Even though we see them fighting a lot as children through the videos and comics, it’s also implied that they were always together and they shared some quiet moments –the “Mizi didn’t play with you, I played with you” art, all that art of the main 4 playing together, those bright smiles as they ran away together during the meteor shower scene and Till looking so guilty when he let go of his hand. 

There are a few cute doodles of them for those who are on Patreon, and some more lore in the Anakt Garden kit –so they were at the very least friends in their own way (as best as 2 very traumatized and abused children could), constantly fighting and making up. Which God… it shows that despite appearances Till must have actually had the patience of a saint when they were little lmao.

But what I’m trying to say is that despite what Ivan may have thought, his death will most definitely have an impact on Till and the narrative going forward, and I’m excited to find out how that reflects in the final round (if the resistance doesn’t manage to get back up in time to disrupt it). 

Despite how much I adored (and SUFFERED WITH) this round, I still have MANY questions that were left unanswered, both about Ivan and Till, and the lore in general, and I wonder if there’ll be time to answer them all, as I can imagine the next MV will be focused on Luka’s perspective, the only one we haven’t been presented with.

One of the most pressing questions being: What’s the relationship between Ivan and that alien dog? Did he tame it? It is implied that it was Ivan who somehow led Till and Mizi to it in the first place in that one scene, and if so I wonder what his motivation was? Normally jealousy would be the first thing to come to mind but Ivan wasn’t interested in Till until AFTER he saw him stand up to the beast to protect Mizi, so it couldn’t have been that. 

This is something that was also teased on Patreon and I was looking forward to the explanation on the MV, but it never came, and now Ivan is dead, so the next video will most likely not be too concerned with his backstory any longer. (Which, also, I was really curious about his life in the slums before being captured, auctioned and brought to Anakt, as that would have played a huge role in his twisted personality/dark tendencies –once again teased on Patreon very briefly, but not explained beyond that frame of him looking famished.)

The second is, how is Ivan able to open Till’s collar/muzzle so easily? This is a question I’ve been having since R3, but chalked it up to Ivan being sneaky and figuring out some kind of code to the cell door and that somehow automatically deactivating the locks on the restraints… or something. But with how many times he does it in R6 with just a touch it’s very clear that that isn’t the case and also imo they’re trying to point this out as a significant detail. 

It may turn out that I’m just looking too much into it, but I find it really curious and interesting. Not only is he the only child without a collar (Mizi and Sua still had them despite being just as well behaved as him), but he seems to be the only one able to take them off –or at least Till’s. I’m pretty sure the children wouldn’t normally be able to remove them by themselves as it seems to be a control mechanism. So how can Ivan? This might explain a lot about how they were able to escape, and also add a layer of tragedy knowing that Ivan could have chosen to escape by himself at any point, but refused to leave Till behind.

Last but not least there’s all the human experimentation Till was subjected to, which was the main topic of the teaser and we see the same images show up in the very beginning of the MV. They help emphasize Till’s suffering and distressed state of mind, but then they’re never expanded on or mentioned at all for the rest of the video. That’s a huge piece of lore that I also hope isn’t forgotten.

I mean, I really doubt it will. So far VIVINOS & co. have been incredible with their ability to hold back information and release it at the moment where it’s the most impactful, which is refreshing to see. So I trust we’ll get some answers eventually. 

Really curious to know why they would experiment on an ALNST contestant in the first place, especially one that is undoubtedly talented and described as a musical genius (aka. has good odds of doing well on stage and earning the segyein revenue). A very plausible theory might just be that he was just getting constantly drugged to make him less of a threat/more submissive –like we see on the karaoke room scene. But it might as well be something bigger.

As for my expectations for the next round… I’m still just trying to process this one, as you can see by the sheer amount of text. There are many things left to address, and the Hyuna/Luka confrontation has been strongly teased. I wonder also, if the round goes on without interruption, what would Luka’s strategy against Till be? Would he go for provocation again, trying to imitate Mizi/hint to his recent trauma with Ivan? It probably won’t be that simple.

I mean, VIVINOS has been known for subverting our expectations with each round:

The ominous/callous framing that was given to Ivan by the end of Black Sorrow and the art that followed, making us suspicious of his intentions, only to have him die for love. The lifeless/doll-like framing given to Luka, vulnerable and cornered by flashing lights, only to have him be the cruelest/most calculating one (that we know so far). The rebellious, rowdy, willing to do anything to survive framing given to Till, only to have his fighting spirit completely break and willingly waiting to die by Ivan’s hands. The naive, complacent and passive image given to Mizi, only to have her snap, beat the shit out of Luka and join the rebellion –and with how things are going (and her being the protagonist) I wouldn’t be surprised if she, and not Hyuna (the one who was framed as the most strong and reliable, giving us a false sense of security going into R6), is who will have to try and rescue Till (and Luka???).

There are still a ton of things that keep me awake at night about R6 –my favorite character dying aside. I could talk about it forever, but I’ll leave it here. 

Feel free to share your theories, delusions, interpretations or any detail I might have missed with me. God knows we need group therapy after this as the cute chibi keychains can only heal us so far. Thanks for reading my rambles if you made it this far. :’)

[derealizationns]

"am i your wallpaper...?"

characters - ryomen sukuna x gn reader

synopsis - sukuna starts feeling unknown, scary emotions when he sees your lock screen wallpaper.

genre - fluff

warnings - sukuna might be a bit ooc, bc its so hard for me to write him...😭

from prompt special request (prompt #10) <3

"get off me, you insolent human." sukuna grumbled the moment that you threw yourself on his lap, whining about your exhausting day.

despite his harsh words, you still stayed in your place on the couch. you knew that man very well, and it wasn’t difficult to notice his smirk (though he tried really hard to hide it). that’s how you ended up with your head on his thighs, playing with the material of his shirt. in the meantime, sukuna was showing the not-so-obvious side of him—he was gently brushing his hand through your hair. even though he shows himself as an intimidating and fearful man, your lover has a soft spot for you. some people that are close with you could even say that you have him “wrapped around your finger," and that wouldn’t be a lie. right now, you’re just relaxing while the pink-haired man scrolls through his phone. he suddenly looks up at you when you start shifting and lift yourself from him.

“where are you going? i did not permit you to leave my side.” he complained, confused by your actions.

you rolled your eyes at his clinginess.

“i’m going to the bathroom; stop acting like you’ll die if i leave your sight, kuna,”you sigh with a smile. he was so cute.

you get up from the sofa and start heading towards the restroom. the moment you were away, sukuna’s smile widened. It was a brief while when he could show that he’s truly pleased by your closeness. suddenly, the king of curses hears something vibrating on the couch. he looks around in search for the source of the noise. that’s when he notices your phone lighting up. he squints his eyes, looking towards the device.

“no, that cannot be right.” your partner mumbles to himself, seeing the picture on your lock screen.

it looked like the one that you took after your last date, when you both were lying in bed. he can swear he’s seeing things, because why would you have this picture there? what was the purpose? sukuna’s chest is full of weird feelings; he’s shure he never felt before. why is he happy? Is that... the thing humans call “excitement”? ... no, that’s wrong. after all, he is the most powerful of all curses; he does not feel those trivial things, right? all of a sudden, he’s thrown out of his thoughts by quiet steps from the bathroom. your lover immediantly switches his attention from your phone to you. as soon as you see sukuna, you can tell that something is bothering him. you already know that he won’t tell you whats wrong, so you decide to bring it up yourself.

“hey, what’s got you so annoyed? you look like you just ate a lemon.” you try to start carefully and a bit playfully, but sukuna does not buy it.

“you, human. what were you thinking when you did that, huh?! i demand an answer.” pink-haired man ordered.

now you were seriously confused. you got him annoyed? but weren’t you just explaining to him that it’s just a quick trip to the bathroom, not a whole ass journey across the world? now you’re getting mad.

“the hell you’re talking about idiot?" you bark at him.

sukuna’s mouth opens but closes a second later.

“come on, spit it out already; you got something to say, then go on.” you force him to explain himself. your partner takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, like he’s bracing himself for an impact.

“am i your wallpaper...?” he almost whispers.

when you hear him, you almost choke on your saliva. what?! he acts all annoyed and everything because you have him on your lock screen?

“wha-...kuna, is that why you looked so dissatisfied earlier? i mean, i can change it if you want,  but...”

“did I say I want you to change it?” he asks loudly.

now he looks at you like you offended him. this man is truly a confusing one.

“no, but...” you try to continue, but he doesn’t let you.

“so be quiet. can’t listen to your rambling” sukuna cuts you off. you can’t help but start giggling. your man’s face is all red from embarrassment. he—ryomen sukuna, the king of curses—is blushing because his partner has him on their wallpaper. you jump back at the couch beside him, taking his face in your hands and squeezing his cheeks. his eyes widen at your action.

“you...how dare you... insolent human, you have the audacity...” he stutters, and you laugh more at him.

“you’re so cute, kuna… so incredibly adorable.” you teased and placed a soft kiss on his lips. when you pulled away, the curse man still had pink cheeks, but additionally a smile on his face.

“i like that picture.” he whispers. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ kirara’s notes . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

hi, hello, it’s me again! this is my first work from that prompt special request 🤍 i tried really hard to write sukuna as much in-character as i can, but it’s reallt hard for me to do it correctly 🥹 feel free to leave reviews! likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

and thank you for reading this ~

[lovesuhng]

fake

fake dating, strangers to lovers, fluff w.c: 4.5k

The college exams were really getting to Johnny, but another complicated situation was troubling his mind: his parents' pressure for him to seriously date someone. It was no secret that Johnny was focused on his studies, but he also didn't miss a chance to have fun with friends and even get involved with some people, yet he never started a serious relationship.

One of Johnny's cousins' wedding was approaching and his mother asked him to be there, once again bringing up the fact that he wasn’t dating anyone. In response, Johnny ended up saying he was in a relationship, which was a big lie.

“Why did you tell your parents that?” Jaehyun, Johnny's friend and classmate, asked him while they were in the cafeteria.

“To see if they would stop pressuring me so much, but now I have a week to find a girl to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“But that’s easy, look at how many women you’ve hooked up with here.”

The fact was that Johnny was well-known and very desired at college. His charm, good humor, and his sculptural body attracted a lot of attention.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to and can’t just take anyone. It’s a wedding!”

So, Jaehyun started suggesting various possible candidates, but Johnny had very convincing excuses. Then Jaehyun looked around the cafeteria and spotted you.

“Why not talk to her?”

Johnny looked in your direction, seeing you laugh at something your friend was saying. You both were in the same major, but you started college after Johnny, making him your senior. You and Johnny had talked a few times, but you were far from being friends. You were known for being a dedicated and very reserved student, not fond of attending the college parties, which made contact with him rare.

“But how am I supposed to ask her? I can’t just go up to her and say ‘do you want to pretend to be my girlfriend for a few days?’”

“That’s not my problem. Think about it, maybe fate will bring her your way in the next few days.”

And it seemed fate was indeed on Johnny’s side. He had gone to talk to the professor of the subject he had been a teaching assistant for the previous semester to resolve some issues. Upon arriving at the office door, he found you talking to the professor, saying you had some questions and needed help to finalize the final project for the subject.

“Unfortunately, I can’t help you because I need to make a short trip to take care of some personal matters.” That’s when the professor noticed someone at the door, directed his gaze to Johnny and asked him to come in. “But it seems you’re in luck. I think you know Johnny. He was my TA last term, and I think he can help you.”

“Really?!” You said, quite excited and hopeful.

“I can help, we just need to figure out some days and times that work, so I can also study for the final exams.”

“Perfect. Are you free after classes tomorrow?”

And so, you arranged to meet in the library the next day for Johnny to help you with the project. He was already waiting for you and it didn’t take long for you to arrive, a bit flustered trying to balance your notebook and notes in your hands, which made Johnny chuckle.

“Sorry for the delay, but the professor wouldn’t stop talking.”

“It’s fine, I just got here.”

After organizing your things on the table and turning on the notebook, you started asking questions and sharing some ideas you were considering for the project. Johnny proved to be very helpful, definitely more than you expected. After some time in the library, you left together heading to the exit, when Johnny offered you a ride since he had a car and saw you were heading to the bus stop. Initially, you tried to refuse but ended up accepting with the condition that you would stop at a coffee shop near your house.

Once there, you placed your orders, which you insisted on paying for, and began talking about various topics, like the similarities of being only children, your tattoos and their meanings, the reasons for choosing that major, and so on. You were discovering more about each other's lives when suddenly Johnny heard someone call his name and recognized his mother’s voice.

“My dear! It’s so good to see you here.”

“You too, mom. What are you doing here?”

“I came to buy some things for your cousin’s wedding and decided to stop for a coffee.” She then looked at you with a very friendly smile. You stood up to greet Johnny’s mother.

“Mom, this is…”

“Don’t tell me she’s your girlfriend?!”

You were about to say you were just a university colleague when Johnny interrupted.

“Yes. My girlfriend.”

Confusion was written all over your face. While being pulled into a hug by Johnny’s mother, you looked at him, seeking an explanation, he just whispered, “I’ll explain later, but please help me.”

“I can’t believe Johnny is finally dating and with such a beautiful woman like you.”

“Ah, thank you…”

“I’m leaving now. It was a pleasure meeting you, dear. And I look forward to seeing you at the wedding.”

“Of course, mom.” Johnny hugged you by the shoulders, startling you a bit. “We’ll definitely be there.”

After saying goodbye to Johnny’s mom with fake smiles, you pulled away from him and demanded an explanation.

“Long story short: I lied to my mom saying I had a girlfriend and she wants me to bring her to my cousin’s wedding. I hadn’t said who it was yet and I was going to talk to you about it before, but then my mom showed up and all this happened. I’m sorry for putting you in this situation.”

“And you think this will work?”

Johnny held your hand and kept his gaze on your eyes. That gave you butterflies, something you didn’t understand why it was happening.

“They say desperate times call for desperate measures. Will you help me?”

You took a deep breath and said, bringing a smile to the man in front of you, “You helped me, so… we have a wedding to go to.”

-

Since you had only a few days before the wedding, your meetings became more frequent, both inside and outside the university. Johnny helped you finish the project, which you presented impeccably and you also studied together for exams, each for your respective subjects, keeping each other company, thus forming a friendship between you.

Already on vacation and on the eve of the wedding, some final details were decided: the wedding and the reception would be in a neighboring town, so Johnny asked you to bring comfortable clothes for the trip and you created a story about your relationship in case anyone asked (you studied at the same university, Johnny always saw you in the corridors and fell in love with you, asked you out, and you had been dating for 2 months).

On Saturday morning, the day of the wedding, Johnny was already at your doorstep, waiting by the car and laughed when he saw you walking towards him with curlers in your hair, holding the dress and a small suitcase.

“Why are you like that?” Johnny laughed as he helped you put your things in the car.

“To speed things up, of course. We would be late if I did this at the hotel and I hate being late. And this isn’t the way to greet your ‘girlfriend’ on a saturday morning.”

“You're right. Good morning, my dear.” Johnny said, putting his hands on your waist and then laughing at the face you made. So, you decided to be as affectionate as he was. Standing on tiptoe, you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving him very surprised.

“Good morning, honey. Now let’s go, the road is long.”

That little kiss, innocent as it was, significantly affected Johnny, who took a while to process everything and got into the car.

A little over two hours later, you were at the hotel, and since you were returning the same day, Johnny only booked one room for you to get ready for the wedding. You checked in, ate something, and started preparing. You had already showered and were now doing your makeup. Johnny was in the shower but soon came out, complaining that he couldn’t put on the tie.

“I have no idea how to do this, I think I’ll go without it.”

“Calm down, Johnny, I’ll–” You stopped talking when you saw him with wet, messy hair, the first four buttons of his shirt open, giving a glimpse of his chest, and pants perfectly fitted to his body. Even like that, you thought Johnny was the most attractive man in the world and didn’t want to imagine how he would look when fully ready. You approached him, hoping he wouldn’t notice your blushing face, started buttoning his shirt and tied his tie perfectly. Unlike you, who was very “focused,” Johnny looked at every detail of your face, how your eyelashes were long, how your eyes were mesmerizing, how your lips seemed so soft that he wanted to kiss you right there, but he was snapped out of his trance when you patted his shoulder.

“How do you know how to tie ties?”

“I had to wear one for an event and watched some tutorials online.” You said, smiling. “I’ll add the final touches to my makeup and put on the dress.”

It didn’t take long for Johnny to get ready, so he waited for you until he heard, “Johnny, can you help me?” from the bathroom. He entered the room, seeing you struggling to zip up the dress, and quickly positioned himself behind you. This was your moment to hold your breath at his proximity as he slowly zipped up the dress. You felt your arm hair stand up when his breath touched your neck and when his hands touched your waist. You looked at each other in the mirror, and a smile appeared on your lips.

“So, how do I look?”

Johnny, even nervous, tried to talk to you more casually. “You’re so beautiful we might end up going from a fake relationship to a fake marriage.” He laughed at what he said, knowing he was trying to give you confidence. Johnny turned you to face him and said in a more serious tone, giving you goosebumps for the second time that day, “But seriously, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

Arriving at the wedding venue, Johnny extended his hand to help you out of the car. You held his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, after all, you had to appear as a couple from the moment you stepped into the wedding. You started to get nervous about it, but when you looked into Johnny’s eyes, you felt calmer. As the wedding was about to start, you only waved to Johnny’s parents, who were radiant with the fact that their son was “dating.” The wedding proceeded wonderfully. Mark, Johnny’s cousin, and his bride were happy, and from a distance, it was clear they truly loved each other. His speech made most people cry, including you, which Johnny noticed. In an unthinkable act, he wiped your tears and held your hand, caressing it afterward. You were startled for a second but then gave a subtle smile.

After the ceremony, there was the reception, where you had to really act like a couple. Johnny’s parents greeted you right away. His mother kept talking about how beautiful you were as a couple, made for each other, while his father said he was delighted to see that you made Johnny very happy. A few minutes later, your “mother-in-law” took you to meet Johnny’s aunts, leaving him alone with his father.

“I’m so happy for you, son. It’s clear how happy this girl makes you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Just by looking at you, it’s obvious you’re head over heels for her.”

Johnny didn’t respond to his father, unsure of what to say. He just looked at where you were, cheerfully chatting with his aunts, fitting in like family. Your eyes crinkled as you smiled, your contagious laugh making him smile unconsciously. You noticed his gaze, smiled genuinely, as if to say everything was fine, and it was then Johnny realized he was actually falling for his fake girlfriend.

The party continued. You had already had a lot of fun with Johnny's aunts, talked to the newlyweds and even danced a bit. Now you were sitting next to Johnny, just waiting for the right time to head back to the hotel, after all, the weather was turning and you would need to hit the road before it started raining. That’s when the bride announced that it was time for the much-anticipated bouquet toss. You weren’t planning to join the others, but your “mother-in-law” pulled you in, you gave Johnny a look pleading for help, but he just gave you a "can't do anything" expression.

There you were, in the middle of some women, trying to give polite smiles but clearly not wanting to be in that situation. Then, you heard the bride’s voice saying that the next one to catch the bouquet would have to get married and soon started the countdown.

3

2

1

And by the irony of fate, the bouquet came your way and you caught it before it hit your face. Your wide-eyed expression made Johnny laugh as he rushed towards you. He was about to speak when his very excited mother arrived, saying:

“I knew that bouquet was yours! Now I want a photo of you two.”

You approached Johnny and whispered for only him to hear: “You two are the same, love taking photos of everything!” In the days you spent more time together, you discovered that photography was one of Johnny’s passions and that he was incredible at it.

When you saw Johnny’s mother positioning the phone for a picture of the two of you, you felt Johnny’s hand on your waist, pulling you closer and you felt a kind of warmth there. You posed for the photo, but you didn’t look like a couple. That’s when Johnny’s mother, quite cleverly, said, “Son, kiss your girlfriend!”

Johnny’s eyes widened. Now what? He couldn’t make you do anything like that. He couldn’t keep up this act. He was about to tell his mother the whole truth when he felt your hand on the back of his neck. There was a brief exchange of looks and you said, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t have time to respond as your lips on his prevented him from doing so. It would be cliché to say that “it seemed like everything around had disappeared and only you two were there,” but that’s what was really happening. The gentle touch you gave to the back of Johnny’s neck with the hand not holding the bouquet was reciprocated by the way he held your waist. Johnny knew he was in trouble but didn’t want to think about it at that moment. For him, it was like a dream, but he was “awakened” when you pulled away, only to see the man in front of you with his eyes closed. You couldn’t help but smile when he opened his eyes and you ended up wiping the gloss that had stayed on his lips.

After a while, you decided to return to the hotel and, just as you arrived, a heavy rain started.

“It’s like we predicted this would happen,” said Johnny. He asked you to go to the room to start organizing your things while he settled a few things at the reception. The time you spent alone in the room was enough for you to think about everything that had happened, how much you loved being near Johnny, how welcomed you felt by his family, how nervous you got when you had to pretend to be his girlfriend and how much you loved that kiss. But, did he feel anything for you? Did he feel something with that kiss?

Some time later, Johnny returned to the room, and he didn’t look very happy. “The rain is getting worse and some trees have fallen on the road, so we’ll have to spend the night here.”

“Oh, that’s fine then.”

“You don’t mind us sharing the room?”

“Of course not, John, it’s okay. I’ll sleep on that little sofa and you can take the bed,” you said, pointing to the small sofa in the corner of the room.

“Are you crazy? I’ll sleep on the sofa and YOU can have the bed.”

“I think you’re the crazy one. Look at your size and the size of the sofa.” You were right. The sofa was too small for him, so you thought of a simple solution that made you nervous. “If you don’t mind, we can share the bed.” Johnny looked at you as if to say, “Are you sure about this?” You understood his expression completely and said, “It’s fine. We’ll put some pillows in the middle and it’ll be perfect. The bed is huge.”

After showering, Johnny was arranging the bed while you were combing your hair.

“Did you enjoy the wedding?”

“What? So much! Seriously, Johnny, your family is so lively and funny. I talked for ages with your mom and aunts.”

“I noticed. You even danced with them. You spent more time with them than with your boyfriend.”

“What’s up with that? You should have pulled me to dance.”

“Oh really?”

Then, Johnny picked up his phone and selected a song, specifically “More Than Words” by Extreme and, in a very exaggerated manner, extended his hand to invite you to dance with him in the middle of the hotel room. You couldn’t help but smile, which he noticed, and took his hand, accepting the invitation. The dance continued, Johnny made some exaggerated moves, leading you along with him. With each twirl he made you do, your laughter increased. It was amazing how, even in such a short time, you felt light and happy around Johnny, as he didn’t have to make any effort to make you smile, he just was… himself. The “exaggerated dance” went on for a few more minutes until Johnny lifted you and spun around, but ended up tripping and falling onto the bed, taking you with him. Despite the scare, you both laughed at the situation. But the smiles faded as you realized how close your faces were. You had been this close before, after all, you had kissed earlier, but it was all part of a “show”, now you were alone. Your mouths were almost meeting when Johnny’s phone rang, bringing you back to reality for the second time that day. You got off Johnny and went straight to the bathroom to catch your breath. Meanwhile, Johnny answered the call, discovering it was his mother, just asking if everything was alright.

When you left the bathroom, Johnny was already lying on his side of the bed, ready to sleep, and you did the same, wishing him a good night.

-

Although Johnny’s mind was racing because of everything that had happened the day before and because of the new feelings in his heart, he had a great night’s sleep, except he felt some weight on him. Because of the sun rays entering through the curtain gaps, he slowly opened his eyes and realized that the “weight” was your leg over his, your head using his arm as a pillow and your arms hugging him like he was a giant teddy bear. Johnny noticed that the pillow barrier you had made to divide the bed had fallen and now you were in that situation. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw your squished face, sleeping so peacefully and comfortably in his arms. As much as he wanted to stay there, he had to get out of bed. He tried to do it in a way that wouldn’t wake you, but it didn’t work, and your eyes started to open.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Is this pillow comfortable?”

“Good morning, sort of, it’s just a bit hard…” The next second, you realized you were clinging to him and jumped out of bed. “OH MY GOD, JOHNNY, I’M SORRY! You must have slept all crooked because of me. How embarrassing!” You said while running your hands over your face, while Johnny, still in bed, just laughed at your “panic.”

-

As the days went by, you exchanged messages with trivial updates about what was happening in your lives. With each message you received, you could feel your heart beat faster just thinking it was from Johnny. All your friends knew when you were talking to him because you always had a silly smile on your face, like a lovesick teenager. Missing him so much, you decided to ask him out and he accepted right away.

You arrived in front of the chosen place: a homemade food restaurant where you had once worked and were still friends with Joe, the elderly owner. A few minutes later, Johnny arrived and he couldn’t help but smile when he saw you, especially because of the sunflower-patterned dress you were wearing. He didn’t miss the chance to joke, “Is that dress in my honor?” knowing that he had a sunflower tattooed on his forearm.

Upon entering the restaurant, you took Johnny’s hand to introduce him to the owner.

“Mr. Joe, it’s been so long!”

“Hi, my dear, I’ve missed you.” With a friendly smile, he turned his attention to Johnny. “Did you come to introduce me to your boyfriend?”

Lately, you two were so often mistaken for a couple that Johnny didn’t mind what was said but couldn’t help but feel sad when you stated that you were just friends.

“I see, well, enjoy the evening and maybe things will change tonight.” The elderly man shook Johnny’s hand, winking at him. Was it that obvious that he was in love with you?

You took the lead, followed by Johnny, who found it strange that you were heading somewhere other than where the customers were eating. He was about to ask where you were going when he was surprised as you reached the restaurant’s terrace. It was a rarely used place but very well-decorated and had an incredible view at night.

“Wow, this place is amazing!”

“I think so too. It was one of my favorite spots. I used to stay here during my breaks and sometimes came here to study or just think about life. The owner doesn’t use it much, but I asked a friend who still works here to set it up, just in case I brought someone here.

“And do you often bring people here?”

“To be honest, you’re the first person I’ve brought here.” Johnny gave a restrained smile, feeling special for some reason.

After placing your orders, you talked about various things. It was incredible how you always had so much to talk about. Then, a cold breeze passed, making you shiver and complain about wearing a dress and forgetting your jacket. Within seconds, Johnny promptly got up, took off his jacket and put it on your shoulders, making you momentarily forget how to breathe due to his sudden closeness.

When he returned to his seat, Johnny found it odd that you started laughing for apparently no reason.

“Please don’t get me wrong, I just think it’s amazing how you can sometimes be so sweet despite being so...” You gestured to indicate his height.

“Tall? Handsome? Hot? No need to be at a loss for words to describe me. They say that’s my charm: being sweet to balance out the fact that I’m extremely attractive” Johnny said in a charming tone and you decided to play along.

“For sure, and very modest too.”

After dinner and more conversation, you suggested to Johnny that you go to an ice cream shop near your place.

“What? But weren’t you cold?”

“No cold can make me refuse a good ice cream.”

And that’s how you ended up on your street, heading to your building with your ice creams, you looking like a happy child finally eating your favorite dessert and Johnny laughing at everything you said.

“Well, I guess this is where we say goodbye,” you said, but deep down you didn’t want the night to end.

“The night was amazing. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”

“Oh! Before I forget.” You said while taking off the jacket and handing it back to Johnny. “I swear I’ll bring mine next time.”

“So, there will be a next time?” Johnny said provocatively while putting on his jacket. You pretended to be thoughtful for a second and replied, “Maybe… Wait a second.”

You stepped closer to Johnny to adjust his jacket collar, bringing you just inches apart. Your eyes locked, but this time in a more intense way. You could admire Johnny’s beautiful honey-colored eyes while he examined every detail of your face, which looked even more beautiful in the moonlight. You made a move to pull away, but Johnny placed his hands on your waist, preventing you from leaving. Your gaze dropped to his mouth as he said, “You’ve already kissed me once, what are you waiting for to do it again?”

“Now it’s your turn to take the initiative. Kiss me, John.”

Closing the minimal gap between you, Johnny kissed you. Unlike the first time, you felt the intensity of this kiss, and when Johnny’s tongue touched yours, you could swear you would explode with happiness, so much so that it made you smile in the middle of the kiss, causing Johnny to pull away, laughing. “Are you that happy to kiss me?”

“Of course. Because now we’re really kissing.” You kissed Johnny again, unable to believe he felt something for you too. “Hm, does this mean we’re really dating now?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” Johnny made a mock thoughtful face and listed what had already happened between you two. “I’ve introduced you to my family, we went to a wedding as a couple, we slept together… so I guess we are dating.”

“Good.” You threw yourself into Johnny’s arms, standing on tiptoe. “I won’t have to pretend anymore for your family because next week I’m going to play golf with your mom and your aunts.” You said, giving him a peck.

“YOU WHAT?”

“That’s right, I’m going to spend some quality time with my mother-in-law and show her that I’m the best girlfriend her son could have.”

Johnny’s laughter made you smile even more, he couldn’t believe how quickly you had won over his mother. He hugged you tighter, lifting you off the ground.

“Get inside before I end up kissing you all night, girlfriend.”

“There’s nothing stopping you from doing that, boyfriend.”

You both smiled and kissed once more, savoring the moment that was more real than ever.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Unauthorized Documentary 1.5

Summary: Shenanigans, hi-jinks, Shemar being better(?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff?

Warnings/Includes: pranks, dumb Matthew, Shemar is superior

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: he's backkkk lol seriously i love writing these

main masterlist

Fuck. Another Episode.

The camera opens on the breakroom. Cast and crew members sit at various tables, mid-coffee sip, mid-bite, mid-trying to have a peaceful moment before dealing with Matthew Gray Gubler.

Then, a loud throat-clearing.

The camera swings to Matthew, standing on top of a chair, hands clasped before him like some kind of enlightened prophet. The room collectively groans.

“Friends,” he begins, his voice rich with self-importance. “Colleagues. Unfortunate souls who have suffered my presence.” He pauses, letting the words hang, scanning the room as if expecting nods of understanding. There are none.

“I come to you today, a changed man.”

AJ leans in, whispering to you, “Didn’t he do this last month?”

You nod, barely suppressing a smirk.

The camera cuts back to Matthew, still deeply immersed in his speech. “I will be better. I will be stronger. I will—”

Shemar, arms crossed from the back of the room, cuts in. “Did you actually do anything different, or are we just supposed to pretend this means something?”

Matthew visibly falters, blinking rapidly caught off guard. He opens his mouth, closes it, and tilts his head as though re-evaluating everything.

Then, slowly, he recovers. “…It’s about the gesture, Shemar.”

Shemar scoffs. “The gesture?”

Matthew, dead serious: “Yes.”

Shemar: “Dude, if I walk up to someone, slap them in the face, then hold a press conference about how I’m the real victim, does that count as a ‘gesture’?”

Matthew gasps, offended beyond belief. “That is so unfair. When have I ever slapped anyone? Metaphorically.”

AJ looks on with an unamused face and deadpans, “Yesterday. When you ‘accidentally’ threw that script at my head.”

Matthew waves a hand dismissively. “That was an artistic outburst.”

The blonde woman rolls her eyes, “You literally yelled ‘catch, loser’ before doing it.”

Matthew deflates slightly but powers through, reaching into his pocket. “Which is why I’ve prepared these!”

He dramatically pulls out a handful of handmade friendship bracelets.

The camera zooms in. They’re horrific. Some have letters spelling out questionable phrases like “SORRY 4 CHAOS”, “GUBLER IS LOVE”, and simply “FAVORITE”. One is just beads and a single dried bean.

Lola leans in, squinting. “Is that a… kidney bean?”

Matthew looks deeply proud. “It’s a symbol, Lola.”

She stares at him. “A symbol of what, exactly?”

Matthew falters. “You know… forgiveness.”

Shemar snatches a bracelet from Matthew’s hand, inspects it, and reads it aloud. “‘To Shemar, The Hot One. Love, MGG.’”

The entire room erupts in laughter.

Matthew snatches it back. “Whoops. That one wasn’t supposed to be in circulation.”

The camera zooms in on your face. You look directly into the lens, like a character in The Office, completely done.

—

After his, frankly, atrocious attempt at an apology, Matthew takes a new approach to get back in the good graces of the cast and crew. 

Matthew’s method acting phase was, to put it lightly, a nightmare for everyone involved. It started innocently enough—he just refused to wear anything that wasn’t a cardigan. At first, people thought it was a joke. But by day five, when he showed up in three layered cardigans despite it being 85 degrees outside, the concern was real.

Then came the statistics.

“Matthew, are you eating lunch?” You asked, expecting a normal response.

Matthew didn’t even look up from the book he wasn’t actually reading. “Did you know that 62% of actors refuse method acting because it’s inconvenient to their daily life? But I, as Spencer, must remain committed—”

You blinked at him. “Okay, that’s a no.”

The worst part? He wouldn’t break character. Ever.

Cut to you, just trying to order coffee from the on-set vendor like a normal human being.

The barista was already waiting for your order when Matthew, standing beside you, adjusted his fake glasses and cleared his throat.

“Actually,” he said in full Spencer Reid voice, “caffeine increases dopamine transmission by an average of 35%, which is why—”

You did not blink. You did not move. You just stared at him.

“…I’m just trying to get a latte, man.”

The barista, clearly terrified, did not intervene.

By the time week two hit, Shemar had had enough. He devised a plan.

“Man,” Shemar said loudly one day on set, standing just within earshot of Matthew but pretending not to notice him. “Derek Morgan is just so damn cool.”

Matthew’s back was turned, but you saw him physically tense.

“The confidence,” Shemar continued. “The swagger. The way he’s the absolute best part of the show.”

Matthew’s hands curled into fists. His breathing got heavier. You could see the war happening in his brain.

Then—

“I MEAN—” he blurted out, spinning around wildly. “I am fully committed to Reid, but also, yeah, Morgan’s pretty cool—wait. Damn it.”

You and Shemar erupted in laughter as Matthew gasped in horror, realizing his method acting had crumbled before his eyes.

Cut to Matthew later that day, begrudgingly sipping coffee in a hoodie instead of a cardigan.

The method-acting phase was over.

—

Tension between Matthew and Shemar had been simmering ever since the method-acting fiasco, and now? Now, it had boiled over into an all-out battle for dominance.

It started as a small argument over who was more loved on set, but within minutes, it had escalated into a full-scale, no-holds-barred competition to determine the true favorite of the cast and crew.

Everyone immediately gathered around. This was better than an actual episode of Criminal Minds.

Challenge #1: Who Can Carry More Things at Once?

Shemar, confident as ever, didn’t even hesitate. He casually picked up six chairs, the entire coffee cart, and someone’s backpack. He made it look effortless, strolling across the set like he was on a catwalk.

The crew cheered. Someone whistled.

Matthew, refusing to back down, stepped forward, determination in his eyes.

“I can do that,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing a single folding chair and attempting to lift it dramatically over his head.

His arms immediately started shaking. His legs wobbled.

“I—I got it,” he wheezed.

He did not have it.

Cue immediate collapse.

The chair clattered to the floor as Matthew went down like a sack of flour, landing on his back with a loud oof.

Shemar stood over him, arms still full of furniture, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

Point: Shemar.

Challenge #2: The Fan Love Test

Shemar pulled out his phone, opened Instagram, and snapped a quick selfie. No effort. No filter. Just pure, effortless charisma.

Within minutes:

50,000 likes.

Hundreds of comments.

People begging him to marry them.

Matthew, meanwhile, had a vision.

He donned an old-timey hat, adjusted the lighting, and filmed a deep, avant-garde video where he dramatically monologued about "the nature of existence", pacing back and forth in a dimly lit hallway.

When he posted it, the results were… less impressive.

50 likes.

30 confused comments.

One person asked if he was okay.

Matthew stared at his phone, devastated. “They don’t get my art.”

Shemar looked over his shoulder, glanced at the post, and snorted. “Bro, you’re literally filming like you just got kicked out of a 1920s speakeasy.”

Point: Shemar.

Challenge #3: Who Can Make You Laugh First?

Shemar went first.

He didn’t even try. He just said literally anything, and you immediately laughed. Because let’s be honest, Shemar was naturally funny.

Matthew was not pleased.

“I see what’s happening here,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll have to go bigger.”

Then, without warning, he launched into full-blown slapstick mode.

No lead-up. No explanation.

One second he was standing there, the next—he tripped over absolutely nothing and faceplanted straight into craft services.

Food flew everywhere. The sound was deafening.

The crew gasped.

You? You lost it.

You were laughing so hard you had to bend over, clutching your stomach, tears streaming down your face.

“Okay, okay,” you gasped between laughs. “Matthew wins that one.”

Shemar, standing beside you, deadpan as hell: “Not fair. He’s naturally a walking disaster.”

Point: Matthew.

Final Score:

Shemar: 2 Matthew: 1 (but, honestly, at what cost?)

As the crew dispersed, Shemar clapped Matthew on the back. “Nice try, bro. But let’s be real—I own this set.”

Matthew, still covered in food, sighed dramatically. “This isn’t over.”

Then, in true Matthew Gray Gubler fashion, he turned on his heel and walked straight into a door.

You burst into laughter again.

Shemar shook his head. “Man, you really need a handler.”

Cut to you, his handler.

—

Matthew had been humiliated one too many times. The failed challenges, the method acting disaster, the relentless Shemar superiority complex—he needed to reclaim his dignity. And what better way than through a perfectly executed prank?

Or at least, that was the plan.

The target? You.

The prank? Simple. Switch your coffee with decaf.

It was supposed to be harmless. A mild inconvenience at best.

It was not.

The camera cuts to you, mid-morning, sipping from your usual coffee cup. Your eyes are sharp, focused on your work—until, suddenly, they go wide.

Something is wrong.

You pause, staring at the cup like it’s personally betrayed you. You sniff it, take another slow sip, then visibly tense.

The room goes silent.

The camera cuts to Matthew, lurking nearby, watching nervously. He shifts on his feet. He knows he did something.

Then—you snap.

Cut to you storming across the room, coffee cup clenched in your fist, shaking violently.

“You think this is a joke?” you hiss, voice low and dangerous.

The camera cuts to Matthew, now visibly terrified. He steps back, hands up in surrender. “I—I didn’t think you’d notice so fast.”

You slam the empty cup onto a table.

“No caffeine?” you breathe, voice shaking with rage. “No. Caffeine? You think I can deal with your chaotic ass with no caffeine??”

Shemar, watching from the sidelines, murmurs, “Oh, he done fucked up.”

Matthew takes one look at your face and does what any logical man would do—

He runs.

—

Later that day, Matthew walks onto set feeling a little on edge. He hasn’t seen you since The Incident. He’s convinced you cooled off during the day, and after he got you a real coffee.

He is wrong.

Very, very wrong.

As he approaches his trailer, something feels off. The air is too still. There’s an uneasy silence lingering over everything.

He opens the door.

And freezes.

His trailer is completely empty.

No furniture. No decorations. No clothes. Nothing.

It looks like it’s been raided by the FBI. Or worse—Shemar.

The only thing left? A single note taped to the wall.

It reads:

"Revenge is a dish best served hot. Unlike my coffee."

Matthew lets out an actual scream.

Cut to you, watching from a distance, sipping your fresh, fully caffeinated coffee with pure satisfaction.

Shemar pats you on the back. “Damn. Cold-blooded.”

—

The day had been long. For Matthew, excruciatingly so.

The fallout from The Coffee Incident™ still loomed over him like a storm cloud. His trailer was still empty, his pride still wounded, and worst of all—you hadn’t spoken to him all day.

Not once.

And that? That was terrifying.

Now, as the day wound down, and with all of the cameras packed away, Matthew found himself standing a few feet away from you, nervously fidgeting. You were gathering your things, calm and eerily composed.

Too composed.

He swallowed hard, hesitating before finally working up the courage to approach you.

“Hey, baby…” he said hesitantly, dragging out the words in the most cautious tone imaginable.

You didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge him. Just zipped up your bag.

Matthew’s stomach twisted.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

“Babe?” he tried again, his voice slightly more desperate now. “You’re… you’re not still mad about the whole coffee thing, right?”

Silence.

His palms sweated.

He laughed awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I mean… you knew it was a joke, right? A totally harmless, playful, innocent—”

You finally looked at him.

Just looked.

No smile. No expression. Just a long, slow, unreadable stare.

Matthew felt actual chills.

He took an instinctive step back. “Babe?”

You sighed, finally speaking. “I don’t know, Matthew,” you said coolly, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Was it a joke?”

Matthew’s throat went dry. He blinked rapidly, a nervous laugh bubbling out. “I—I mean, yeah! Of course! I wanted, uh, a real reaction, so I didn’t tell you, but like… I didn’t think your reaction was, um, real real…”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Are you sure about that?” you asked, voice calm, steady, but somehow worse than if you had yelled.

Matthew’s brain short-circuited.

He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

“…Yes?” he squeaked.

You hummed thoughtfully, then reached out—just a simple movement—and Matthew flinched.

“Oh my God,” you laughed suddenly, shaking your head. “You’re actually scared of me.”

Matthew, offended but still terrified, defended himself, “No, I’m not!”

You leaned in just a little, lowering your voice. “Then why are you sweating?”

Matthew instantly wiped his forehead. “I—I run hot, you know that.”

You grinned, finally smiling again, and suddenly, Matthew felt even more uneasy.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, patting his cheek lightly before stepping past him toward the door. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

He should’ve felt relieved.

He didn’t.

“…You do?” he asked slowly, watching you with deep suspicion.

You turned back, walking backward toward the exit, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Of course,” you said sweetly.

Then, before disappearing out the door, you added, casually, almost offhand, “…But you’ll never know when I’ll get you back.”

The door clicked shut.

Matthew stood frozen, staring after you, his entire soul leaving his body.

“…Oh, I’m dead,” he whispered to himself.

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

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[beabnormal24]

Quick Carbon wip just got inspired and wanted to write it.

“George.” Alex hisses, pressing his phone against his cheek until he’s sure he could mold into it.

He can still feel his heart racing from the run he had made up the stairs. He hasn’t really gone to the gym in a while, so it could be that, or maybe it’s just the way his brain had felt like melting out of his ears when he had laid eyes on the labelled boxes in the hall, first, and a muscular back near the doorman box, after.

“Alexander.” George hisses back, “why are we whispering?”

“Carlos Sainz, George.” Alex says, just before realising that, probably, saying a name without putting it in a properly complete sentence doesn’t make any logical sense. “I just- I just saw him- in the hall- fuck”

“Did you run up the stairs?” George asks, sounding way too amused. “I told you, you should take your working out more seriously at your age. Again, I can talk with Rita and find a spot for you in my morning Pilates classes, they would do you only good I am sure.”

“George, Carlos Sainz, in my- in my building.” Alex repeats, frantically looking for his keys in the utter mess of his jacket’s pockets.

He was pretty sure he was already holding them as he got in the hall, but then they seemed to disappear just as he was getting up the stairs, skipping the elevator because he surely wouldn’t stay there with Carlos Sainz just a few feet away.

Perhaps he just mechanically put them back in his pocket, he wouldn’t put it past himself after seeing Carlos freaking Sainz in the same place as himself. Talking to Alex’s doorman, of all people.

“Ah, I see, I see.” George says slowly, “But weren’t you watching him playing in San Diego just, like, a few days ago? Ah these rich people and their private jets, our poor sustainability!”

“It was last week, George.” Alex says, moving his phone to the other shoulder as he gets both his hands finally free. “Do you really not listen to me at all when I talk about golf?”

George is suspiciously silent for a second too long. “Eh, no.” He says, sincerely. “That being said. I don’t see the big deal with him being in the same building as you. You’re obsessed with the guy, just make sure to not act weird and all.”

“Weird?” Alex whispers, but it almost sounds like a screech to his own ears. “Yeah, no, I am perfectly normal about this what are you saying?”

“I can literally hear your brain exploding from here.”

“Shut up.”

“You called me.”

“And I am regretting it very much.” Alex says, stuffing his hand in the back pocket of his jeans just to come out, once again, empty handed. God, why does this have to happen now of all times? He is in desperate need of a coffee and, even better, a long cold shower to properly wrap around what he just saw. “Ah, my keys-“

There’s a tap on his shoulder and the only reason why Alex manages to not jump out of his skin is that he’s way too distracted with something like avoiding having to change all his locks because of his own idiocy.

As he turns around ready to tell somebody off, though, he desperately wishes his soul had actually made the jump.

“Looking for these?” Carlos Sainz says, dangling Alex’s keys in front of his face with a smirk. Distantly, Alex is pretty sure his phone just fell to the ground. “You dropped them in the hall, I can see it’s an habit.” Carlos Sainz jokes.

Because, as it stands, Carlos Sainz is in front of him making a joke about how Alex seems to have an habit of dropping his personal stuff around like an idiot.

Which is precisely the best and worst thing that could ever possibly happen to him.

In a remote part of his barely functioning brain, Alex knows that he should probably laugh to not look like a complete weirdo - which is exactly what George had advised him of, amazing.

But all that actually manages to come out of his mouth is just a strangled noise as his mind goes through two things, not necessarily in that order: fuck he is hotter than on TV and fuck he is shorter than I thought.

“Is everything-“

“Yes!” Alex rushes to say, taking the offered keys out of Carlos’ hands before remembering that he has been raised with manners. “Thank you, I am- a bit distracted yes.”

“That’s okay.” Carlos says, reassuring. His smile is almost blinding, way too gentle than it should be when offered to, well, a complete stranger.

Alex can’t exactly miss the way Carlos’ eyes seem to take in the sight of him, raking from the top of his head to the worn points of his Converse. He probably looks ridiculous compared to the well-put and squeaky clean shoes on Carlos’ feet, but in his defence, they don’t have a dressing code at work, and he is no professional golfer.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, new neighbour.” Carlos says, and when his eyes meet Alex’s there’s a glint in them he can’t exactly decipher. “I am Carlos Sainz, but I seemed to notice you already know that.”

Oh.

Alex is fucked.

[heeseungsbunny]

SYNOPSIS: you hate worrying your boyfriend whenever you’re not feeling well, but how long can you hide it from him?

FEATURES: sam winchester, dean winchester(separate)

GENRE: fluff

DEAN WINCHESTER; you sprained your ankle

you hate getting hurt, especially before your date night with DEAN. you wince as you try to place your foot back on the ground to see if it got slightly better. you look back at your kitchen from your couch, “ i should probably get ice for this” you say before you rub your ankle. you slowly stand up and balance on the back of your couch to hop to the kitchen. when you finally get to the island in the middle of the kitchen, which felt like forever, you open the fridge and search for an ice pack. you grab one and hop up on the table to ice your ankle. you check your phone to see how much time you have to make your bruising & pain go away, 9:07, shit!. dean said he’d come and pick you up at 9:30, usually you would’ve been getting dressed by now. you really want to call and cancel but this might be the last time for a while until he not busy again with hunting with his brother, sam. though you barely have the ability to walk on your right foot, you still do your best to get dressed and make yourself look decent so dean won’t notice.

buzzz! you turn your attention to your phone to see who’s calling. “hey sweets, i’m on the way, d’you want anything while i’m on the way there?”he asks. you would ask for some bandages to wrap your ankle but that would lead him to ask a trial of questions. “hey you still there?” he asks worriedly. “uh yeah i’m here, but no i don’t want anything” you responded hesitantly. “well, ill see you in 10, see you soon” he spoke suddenly and hangs up. you put your phone down in your lap and check your ankle. the bruise got more painful and darker so it’s hard to ignore and easy to see. 10 minutes later, you hear a soft knock on the door. you hop all the way to your door and open it to greet dean. his strong cologne slaps you in the face and you can tell he’s excited about this date. he embraces you in a hug, lifting you up and when he puts you back down, he notices your wince. “hey you alright?”he questions. you nod and smile at him hoping he leaves it alone. “lemme check your ankle” he says, asking you to lift your leg. “baby that’s not necessary” you respons, chuckling nervously. he sighs and ignores your rejection, kneeling down to place your ankle on his knee to get a better look. “my goodness!” he gasps, shocked at what he saw. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you dean, i just wanted wanted us to have our special night since we never see each other and you looked so happy about this i didn’t wan-”your rambling is cut off by dean throwing you over his shoulder. “it wouldn’t be a good night if my girl is hurt, we can order somethin’ online while you lay down.” he says walking you back into your house and laying you down on the couch. “even if you weren’t hurt, still wasn’t gonna let you walk around with these heels on” he says as he carefully takes your shoes off, careful not to hurt your ankle.

SAM WINCHESTER; you have the flu

you love going on hunts, especially with your boyfriend and his brother, dean. during this time, it was extremely cold and the rain made it worse. sam told you to bring an extra jacket to prepare for the weather, but you didn’t listen because you knew that he’d give you his anyways. dean got back into the car handing you your food. “and your not eating that in my car either” he warns, looking back at you before he starts the engine. you roll your eye at how protective he is over his car but you still sneak some of your fries. you sneeze once and you see sam glance at you in the rear mirror & says “bless you”. the second time you sneeze makes sam look back at you, “are you seriously sick, this is why i told you to bring a jacket!” he nags. you lean back in your car seat, ignoring him. “i’m not sick, i only sneezed twic-”you protest before you were cut off by another sneeze. “that’s your third!” says dean. “don’t even try to just go to bed when we get to the hotel” says sam.

15 minutes pass and dean pulls his shinned car into the small parking lot. before you even get inside, sam already has his hand on your lower back guiding you inside. “when you get in there, finish your food while i go get you some medicine, okay?”he instructs before he kisses you and lets you & dean go inside. you take off sam’s jacket and hangs it up on the coat hanger near the door. as soon as you sat down and started to eat, you’ve lost your appetite and didn’t feel any strength to even stand up from your seat. but you know sam will still make you eat something before you go to bed so you still eat your food because you haven’t completely lost your appetite. once you finish eating, you go lay down & rest in the bed that you share with sam. you hear sam quietly walk to your side of the bed, not sure if your sleeping or not, and gently shakes you. “c’mon, you need to take this medicine before you doze off”he says gently. you slowly pull the covers off your body and cough. “how do you feel right now?” he questions. “i feel weak & cold, i barely had the appetite to eat my food”you explain. even though it’s kinda dark, you could still feel his worried eyes on you. he leads you to the kitchen while rubbing your back, “you might have a cold or something, it’ll be gonna by next week, y’know how much i hate seeing you sick”he says before he gently pushes into a chair. he brings you a cup of water and gives you a spoon of medicine. “hey don’t give me an attitude, it’s your fault you have to take this medicine because you didn’t listen to me” he says after you make a face to the taste of the red medicine. “come on, let’s get you to sleep so you can wake up feeling better” he says as we watches you chug a cup of water to wash the taste away. he picks you up bridal style and walks you to your shared bed, “and before you think to not listen to me, remember this” he whispers, kissing your forehead before you drift off to sleep.

[crackedpumpkin]

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟒 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

The sound of rapid tapping fills the air, gradual annoyance settling in. You lift your head, looking directly at the source. A random student sitting nearby in the cafe you’re in has her head bowed, her gaze fixed on a textbook as her fingers tap away on the table’s glass surface.

Sighing, you look away and take another sip of your ice latte, letting the familiar taste cool your temper down. Initially, you were supposed to go to the dentist, but they cancelled at the last minute due to an emergency. Instead of lounging around at home, you decided to go and finish your assignment.

Now though, you wish you’d picked a better spot. Moving away wasn’t an option, considering how big the crowd had gotten for the lunch rush. A glance at the clock above the cashier counter reveals that you have only an hour left before heading to Papa’s Cakeria. 

Another glimpse at the quiet phone on your table draws an irritated frown from you. Since last night, Cole hasn't messaged back at all about how exactly he was supposedly going to ‘help’ you rush the order. You’d texted him again, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to send another follow-up one.

Directing your irritation and energy back to the half-completed essay on your laptop screen does help with productivity, and you find that between sips of your coffee and music blasting through your headphones, breezing through it is easy.

Another ten minutes before you have to leave. 

That time is spent texting Melody whose replies are filled with questions about Cole. You can’t really blame her for being so curious, especially after you’d dropped such a bomb so nonchalantly the other night. You’re not entirely sure if you’ve even finished processing this fact either.

What would this mean for you? Would the universe really force you two together?

You know nothing about him. 

This realisation makes you pause, the straw of your drink halfway to your lips. Exhaling softly, you place it back down, absentmindedly beginning to pick away at the skin of your thumb. 

The most you know is that he’s the Earth Ninja, likes cakes and pastries and that he’s terrible at replying to texts. Is this the guy that’s supposed to be your soulmate? Seriously?

The door closes behind you with a loud chime to signal your exit, having packed up all your stuff earlier and discarding the now empty cup.

“Hey!” Your soulmate greets you, strolling toward you with his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. A cap adorns his shaggy black hair, shielding his face from any strangers who might recognise him as one of the ninjas. 

He stops in front of you with a friendly tilt of his head. “What’re you doing here?” You ask, taking a wary step back and eyeing his getup. He holds up his wrist, checking his watch before raising his eyes to meet yours. 

“Well, you said 2 pm, right?” Blinking once, twice, even three times doesn’t help in processing the fact that he’s here. “C’mon,” he gestures for you to follow, already heading into the crowd. 

“Wait,” You move to catch up to his fast pace, noticing how he’s slowed down for you to walk at a more comfortable pace. “Is this why you asked me what time I’d be heading down?” He doesn’t answer the question, merely shrugging in response. A tinge of annoyance bites down at the edges of your temper, but you quickly snuff it out at the thought of pastries. 

“You could’ve just told me,” You point out when it suddenly hits you that your bag is resting on his shoulder. “When did- How…?” Your reaction elicits laughter from him, his eyes filled with mild amusement. 

“You handed it to me earlier when I offered.” Now that he mentions it, you vaguely recall his outstretched hand waiting for your bag, and you’d handed it to him as if it were second nature. Your lips curl into a wince, trying not to let embarrassment flush your cheeks.

“Right, thanks.” Credit where credit is due, you suppose. It was pretty nice of him to do so. However, what scares you the most in this situation isn’t the fact that you’re both heading to the same place together. No, it’s not that at all.

It’s how easily you trusted your belongings with him. 

Biting down on your bottom lip helps to suppress the mild panic that flutters uneasily in your guts, the pain replacing it. “So, is this what you meant by helping me ‘speed the order up’?” You ask, air quotes not going unnoticed by him.

He hums in thought, tilting his head to the side. Some lint on his shirt sleeve catches your eye, quickly brushing it off of him before he notices. “Well, I figured that since I have the day off and everything, I’d introduce you to the owner. Makes things easier in case I’m busy and you can still rush the order without me being there.”

His thoughtfulness is actually rather heartwarming. “Oh.” Here you were, being all huffy over his sudden presence that you didn’t stop to consider it's his way of being considerate. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

Silence falls between you both, but this time you’re the one to break it. “It’s for my dad.” He glances down at you at the mention of your father, and you direct a small smile at him as you explain. “His birthday is coming up, and every year I alternate between baking a cake and buying one from the store. It’s kind of a tradition.”

He nods, a silent encouragement for you to keep going. “There was a time I got mad at him though, so instead of sugar I used salt. But he still ate it.” a chuckle falls from your lips, grinning at the memory. 

“I get that,” He says wisely with a nod. “Once, Kai pissed me off so I asked Zane to make dinner and swapped out the pepper in his bowl for chilli powder. He had a stomach ache for a month.” 

Wincing replaces the grin on your face. You can’t even begin to imagine the torture that must’ve been for Kai. That poor toilet must’ve seen unimaginable horrors… Dismissing it with a shake of your head, you catch a glimpse of the store sign that resembles that of the Google Maps image you’d used as a reference. 

“Oh my god.” Before Cole could blink, you’re already pressed against the window, wide-eyed at the cakes displayed. You turn your head at the sound of his chuckle, practically buzzing with excitement to go inside. 

Once you spot the amusement in his eyes, a jolt of realisation strikes your chest. Clearing your throat, you stand back up properly and place a hand on the door, pushing it open and walking inside with the little dignity you can muster. 

He notes the stiffness in your gait, following you inside with a shake of his head and hiding his smile by turning away, greeting the young cashier with a nod. “Hey Cole,” She greets with a beam.

“Who’s your friend?” She asks, nodding at you curiously. “She’s pretty.” 

“She’s alright,” Cole replies as soon as you part your lips to respond, stopping when he cuts you off and instantly directs a glare his way. He flinches, clearing his throat. “Is the boss in?”

She crosses her arms, the curiosity in her gaze holding strong when he doesn’t give your name. However, she lets it slide. “You know he doesn’t like being called that.” He sighs in defeat, an embarrassed tinge to his words as he corrects himself.

“Is Papa in?”

You pause, processing what you’ve just heard. He avoids looking directly at you, arms crossed and cheeks dusted red as he glares at the cashier with a scowl. The corners of your cheeks lift without your notice, smiling from ear to ear. 

Charlotte (you’d finally read her name tag) hums, satisfied with Cole’s reaction. She winks at you mischievously. “I’ll go get him.” She leaves through a door with a sign marked ‘STAFF ONLY’, and you spot the various industrial-sized mixing stands and ovens before it closes behind her. 

“So,” you start, moving to stand next to him. His fingers dance nervously on the countertop, avoiding your gaze at all costs. Suppressing a grin, you match his rhythm, drumming your fingers nearby.

He clears his throat, finally mustering the courage to look at you. “So…”

“I hear that the Bahamas are good this time of year.” You say airily.

His eyes widen momentarily, the tension in his shoulders easing when he realises it’s not a jab. “The Bahamas?”

“Yeah,” you reply casually with a shrug, “It’s great for camping. You should definitely visit,” you add, deliberately pausing to inspect your nails, all the while keeping a watchful eye on his reaction. “Have a little father-son bonding time.”

The amount of time it takes for him to react is nothing short of a millisecond. His lips press together, forming a thin line while his hand comes to a still on the countertop. He holds your gaze, the shared stubbornness in both of you refusing to break. 

The corners of your mouth twitch, trying not to let the pure hilarity of it all get to you. Internally holding the reins tight on your composure is nothing short of keeping you from making another joke at his expense. 

“For your information,” He says eventually, breaking the silence between you both. You nod continuously, encouraging him to continue so he can embarrass himself further. “He insisted. And if you ever bring this up to anyone, our deal is off.” 

The threat he poses is equivalent to that of a small hamster trying to threaten a chair. This mental comparison elicits a snort from you, unable to hold back any longer. “Right,” You struggle to find the right words to say without dissolving into laughter right then and there. “Totally.”

“I mean it,” He warns, leaning against the counter with a frown. “And stop laughing! It’s not that funny!”

“You’re right, you’re right. It’s not funny.” You sober up, keeping a straight face when the door opens and Charlotte comes strolling out with an older man behind her. You lean toward him, shoulder brushing against his as your voice lowers to a whisper. “It’s hilarious.” He parts his lips with an offended gasp, only to rearrange his features into a warm smile when the man stops in front of him. 

“Cole! It’s good to see you again, son.” The man you assume to be Papa hugs Cole tightly, the latter scowling at you and mouthing another silent threat before changing it into a grin once he pulls away. 

Somehow, you manage to keep a straight face. Charlotte busies herself with the cashier, seemingly finished with human interaction for the day. You don’t blame her though, past experience of being a barista at a cafe is more than enough to make you vow to never go back.

“Welcome, welcome! I’m Papa Louie, but any friend of Cole’s is a friend of mine. So you can call me Papa!” He welcomes you with a chuckle, opening his arms for a hug. You hesitantly step into his embrace, awkwardly patting his back before he releases you. 

“That’s right, you can call him Papa.” Your entire body stiffens, dread crawling up the cliff of your spine with its little hands digging into your skin. “Go ahead,” Cole gestures to Louie who’s already waiting with an innocent smile. 

Filial piety already drums away at your heart, unable to bear the pressure of every second that passes. Finally, you relent against your own will but silently curse with every fibre of your being directed at Cole.

“It’s nice to meet you….Papa.” 

The sharp inhale Cole sucks through his teeth makes your hair stand on edge, hands curling into fists. Unlike your coward of a soulmate, you meet his gaze headfirst, suppressing a glare when Papa Louie grins brightly. “What can I do for you today?”

Right. Cake. Do it for the cake. And your dad, of course. But also, cake. 

“She’s here to buy a cake for her dad’s birthday, and I was hoping you’d be able to help skip the queue, given our history together.” The chef’s reaction is immediate, pure delight in his innocent smile as he grabs your hands. 

“Of course, my dear! Let us organise it, especially for such a filial daughter like yourself.” He guides you over to the counter where he promptly whips out an order form, passing it to you. “And for you, half price. First order is special,” He adds with a fatherly wink. 

“Thanks,” it’s the only reply you can muster, taken aback by the amount of generosity shown. Sneaking a glance at Cole who’s left you to your own devices and is now chatting to Charlotte, you notice how at ease he seems around the two of them. 

“He’s a very good partner to you, I assume?” 

What.

Your eyes snap back to Papa Louie’s grin. “He’s not-” The sudden weight of his hand on your shoulder makes you flinch, unable to shrug it off because of what’s at risk, but also because of his next few words.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” his voice is low, yet filled with parental affection as he looks at Cole. “The poor boy’s been through a lot.” 

You part your lips, still trying to comprehend how deep this misunderstanding seems to have gotten. Instead of retorting or clarifying the situation, however, you press your lips together, looking down at the order form and scribbling down the specifics of what you want. 

A shadow covers half the paper, and you look up to see Cole staring down at it. “You done yet?” 

“Just finished.” Handing it back to Papa Louie, he personally settles payment while insisting that you receive the heavily discounted price. Your protests fall on deaf ears, begrudgingly accepting his kindness.

He doesn’t allow you to leave empty-handed either, passing you a parcel of cookies he claimed to be freshly baked, Cole and you are ushered out of the store by Charlotte. The ninja himself had also gotten a few tarts, probably to bring back home. 

Unfortunately, you had been forced to say goodbye using the term the chef specifically likes to be called, trying to force away the pure cringe and remind yourself of the kindness he’s displayed so far.

It didn’t mean it was any less easy to do so in front of Cole, of all people. 

But of course, who better to see me at my worst than my supposed soulmate?

Stepping out into the cool evening air makes the heat in your ears and neck feel more prominent than before, the door closing behind you both with a soft click. You spin on your heel to face Cole who has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. 

“We shall never speak of this.” You state decisively, ignoring the curious stares from passersby. 

“Of what?” He tilts his head with faux innocence, mischief in his gaze. 

You part your lips, about to utter a retort when you think twice about it. However, there’s no way you’d let him have the last word. “Good.”

“So, what’re we having for dinner?” 

“How do you feel about ramen?” Steps slowing to a halt in the middle of the street, realisation strikes. You lift your eyes to meet his curious ones, cold horror gripping your chest as it occurs to you how naturally the conversation had turned to eating together.

He lifts a brow at your blank face, waving a hand in front of you. “You there? Do you hate ramen or something? If so, why suggest it in the first place?” A frown takes over, finally noticing that something’s off. “What’s wrong?”

His genuine concern throws you off, flinching away at his outstretched hand that he’s placed on your forehead, checking the temperature. He withdraws his hand, hurt flickering across his face with a hint of frustration. 

“S-sorry. I just…” Words. Where are words when you need them? “I’m just a huge ramen fan.” You finish lamely. 

He exhales slowly, probably sensing that you’re not being entirely honest. You brace yourself for questions, already trying to find excuses to leave. He tilts his head, gesturing to a street nearby. “There’s a good ramen place down that way.”

As you force yourself to walk with him, you spot your bag still on his shoulders, the top of the bag of cookies neatly tucked away inside. Guilt seeps through the little cracks of your stony facade, stumbling back slightly when he suddenly turns to check on you. 

“You’re paying for dinner. Take it as payment for introducing Papa to you.” 

The simplicity of his words is clear-cut, but you recognise the intention behind them. The guilt from earlier melts away, finally cracking a small amused smile. Maybe he isn’t such a bad person after all. You hurry after him, watching as he slows down once you catch up. “For introducing who?”

“I identify as a feminist, so I’m legally allowed to hit you.”

“Ninjas don’t harm citizens, do they?” 

“I’m off duty.”

[frostbitebakery]

“LOUD. (So. Much. Starting to tinker with a [!!!!!!!!!]Corrie Guard armor[!!!!!!])”

….Could I request anything to do with the last part of that sentence? Or just more about Loud, if you prefer!

The Coruscant Guard’s armor had been the same as the deployed troops’ in the very beginning. Soon, certain politicians and some loud parts of the public got uncomfortable with war tanks “strolling along our streets and even the Senate”. The armor had to change. Quick. The war was already on every news outlet and ever present, the clones stationed on Coruscant did not need to remind the peaceful citizens of it.

So a more streamlined version was designed (design 12 was approved, finally) with a headset visor instead of a helmet.

This, too, was not right.

“I cannot be expected to concentrate on my duties when I see the same face everywhere!” Senators complained.

The designers gently hit their heads on their desks. And another helmet was designed.

“I am going to murder them all in cold blood,” Commander Fox was not quoted on the matter when the new design was revealed with barely any visor present. “How am I supposed to take a dump on the flimsiwork when I can’t see it.”

“If I may,” Senator Organa spoke up, and the designers for the Alderaanian guards’ armor was put in charge.

“Senator,” one of the designers said in a confidential meeting, “the specs contain restrictions and regulations that…” They looked at the holo helplessly, turning it this way and that. “Why does it need to be connected to their neural system in this manner?”

Bail is nonplussed unsurprisingly often in his life, especially when faced with the utter nonsense other Senators spew. “In what manner exactly?”

Now usually the suit provides the connector but somehow, with all the designs the previous designers went through, it was forgotten for the Coruscant Guard, hence the need for the helmet to click into the port in the clones’ neck.

“Can you, perhaps, make a dummy connector?” Bail asked after making sure his office was disconnected from any and all surveillance system.

More information was needed and Bail was a man of many, hard earned, trustworthy connections.

“Obi-Wan,” he greeted with a smile, his heart pleased to see his friend without the mask for once. It must’ve been a good day. “I need a favor.”

Bail needed someone of equal trust to look into the Guard and their inner system to see how they could circumvent the neural connection’s dubious workings. All the while making sure the clones could still be in contact with other clones and no one being the wiser they wouldn’t be able to receive orders via the very hidden, very concerning channels built into the clones’ heads. A Jedi Shadow would be excellent, given their confidential nature.

“I am ignoring how you know about them,” Obi-Wan signed with an amused twist to his scarred mouth. “I have someone in mind.”

:

“Hello there,” someone, who definitely should not be in Fox’s office at all, greeted.

“Who the kriff are you.”

The tall person shuffled around Fox’s cramped office - seriously, how did they get in here - and plopped down on the visitor’s chair. “I always wanted to say that. I’m Quinlan.”

:

“And,” Bail continued, “I need you to look into something for me.”

Obi-Wan perked up at that. “You want me to sneak around the GAR?”

“Unofficially. If you’re caught, I cannot help you.”

“Of course.”