#something something the first one was silly and fun!!!

[chloesimaginationthings]

PLEASE!

DRAW BIG TOP, AND MY LIFE, IS YOOOUURRRSSSS /ref

I’ve technically have drawn him before!! Before SOTM dropped,,

(Original comic here)

[dixonsbugaboo]

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.

ꜱᴀᴊᴀ ʙᴏʏꜱ🎵

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 3 - 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘺

Fem!Reader x Saja Boys

Summary: Reincarnated in the body of a demon from the last film you saw before you died, you have decided to change the script of the story in your favour. But you didn't count on your presence in the story changing everything.

Warnings: slow burn, swearing, Abby being Abby (aka really silly), Jinu being kinda self-depressed and also a trespasser, ooc (probably), cringe (surely), no proofread (oopsie)

Word count: 2400+

A/N: so! we are so back! I had soooo much fun writing this one. It's kind of a roller coaster of jokes and feelings, but I hope you like it! Also, I want to let you know that I also started to publish this in Wattpad, but I want to update here first (hehe). Last, I really want to thank you all for your support, your kind words, likes, reblogs and comments. It means a lot!

Ch. 2

︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿

What a horrible day.

Someone (probably Abby) had eaten the last yoghurt in the fridge that you were saving for yourself, someone else (Romance, no doubt) had finished your shampoo, your pillow had magically disappeared (and now Mystery had two) and for some reason Baby smelled like your favourite candies.

Living with men was worse than you had imagined.

You had no privacy, no personal space, and no time to even think.

Since it was their first time back in the human world after centuries (in most cases), they didn't really know how some things worked, but at the expense of your mental health, they were modernising at breakneck speed.

Now they had the latest smartphones.

Romance had discovered TikTok, Mystery was now addicted to cat videos, and if you heard Abby say ‘tralalero tralalá’ one more time, you'd gouge his eyes out with spoons. The only one who seemed to be behaving more or less normally was Jinu, who was convinced that mobile phones were something akin to witchcraft and only used his phone for real emergencies (like when he ran out of toilet paper and had to ask for some in the group chat where everyone was).

Thanks to Gwi-ma, you had moved into a fairly large flat in the human world, where the boys shared rooms… except for Jinu and you, who had your own (separately). It had a fairly spacious living room with a large television that you had used to give them master classes on current K-pop, a fully equipped kitchen that you would probably never use, and two bathrooms, which you had learned in a single day were not enough when living with five demons.

At least they were more or less clean. They left the toilet seat down (sometimes), didn't make much noise (when they were asleep) and if they ate something, they left everything clean afterwards (even though what they had eaten was actually yours).

Baby was the most responsible and the only one you didn't want to smack on the head with a chair every ten minutes. He tried to act disinterested, but you had caught him several times enthralled by everyday things: he got up early just to watch the sun rise, he loved staring out the window just to see people coming and going on the street, and he had discovered how wonderful the smell of freshly baked bread was.

But you had to admit that, overall, having them around in such a routine and mundane environment was kind of fun. At least you knew you weren't alone… like you had felt before you died.

No pillow, no shampoo, no candies, and no yoghurt, but you weren't alone.

Someone knocked softly on your door.

"Come in."

"Sorry to bother you…" It was Baby, with his hands hidden behind his back. "But I wanted to thank you for joining us in the human world, and for the plan and everything… And for teaching us how to use the microwave, and…"

"Baby," you interrupted with a smile. You thought it was adorable when he rambled on just because he wasn't quite sure how to put what he wanted to say into words. "Did you want something?"

"I've written something," he said then. It caught you a little off guard. It had been a while since he'd written anything, or at least since he'd told you… You figured with all the debut stuff, rehearsals and everything, he wouldn't have had time. "And I'd like your opinion."

He had his notebook hidden behind his back. He took a couple of steps towards you, as if hesitating, until he finally decided to stretch out his arm and hand it to you. Your fingers brushed against each other when you took it, and something you couldn't quite identify crossed his gaze in that brief moment.

Surely it was just your imagination.

Too much caffeine.

You opened the notebook and turned the pages to the end, to the last thing he had written. As you turned the pages, you were surprised to see that there were many pages full of scribbles and smudges.

"I've been having trouble finding inspiration," he admitted, looking down.

"That's okay," you said with a smile, trying to make him feel better. "Do you want to stay here with me while I read it?"

He nodded with a small smile and finished entering your room. As you sat down in the chair next to the desk, he flopped down on the bed. He just sat there, and as you began to read and sink into the magic of his words, he decided to look around your room.

You had hung one of the Soda Pop posters you had just printed on the wall above your desk, and you had placed a lion stuffed animal on your bed that Byeol didn't know where you had gotten. Your desk was covered with papers, and the bin was full of candy wrappers, your addiction when you lacked inspiration. There were traces of you here and there: a pair of jeans crumpled up on the floor, a pair of trainers in the corner, a calendar full of scribbles hanging behind the door… The most notable thing there was a note, marking two days later, underlined with brightly coloured markers that read ‘DEBUT’, surrounded by little stars.

Then he focused all his attention on you.

You were slightly hunched over (even though he had told you hundreds of times not to) over his notebook, lost in the story, unable to notice the soft smile on his face as he gazed at you without you realising.

He thought it was adorable how you imitated the expressions of the characters in the story, as if that helped you embody it better, and how your eyes sparkled when you read something you liked. Heck, he even liked it when you frowned because you found a mistake. At first, when you met, he thought you were an interesting person, a clear contradiction to everything Jinu had told him about you.

You were talkative, but you also knew how to listen, and you weren't afraid to give your opinion. When you read his writings in hell, you used to drum your claws on your legs, lost in the reading.

How would it feel to hold your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours?

He didn't want to do it romantically, of course not… just as friends. That's right, intertwining your fingers like friends. And caressing your face, running a finger across your lips (for scientific reasons: he just wanted to know if they were as soft as they looked).

"Wow…" you started to say as soon as you finished reading. Your eyes were slightly glinting with tears. You were… excited. "It's… beautiful, Byeol. It's the most beautiful thing I've read in years." You closed the notebook slowly, carefully. You got up from the chair and sat down on the bed next to him, and gave him back the notebook.

"Thank you… Actually, it's kind of strange. It's been a long time since I've been able to find something new that motivates me to write. But everything here is so different compared to down there… It's colourful and alive, you know?"

That's it!

That was exactly what you wanted them to learn about the human world. How beautiful it was. Now you just had to allow him to gradually redeem himself and realise that all was not lost, that he was not alone, that he could have a second chance, and most importantly, that he could regain his soul.

You felt his hand on your leg, trying to get your attention. You turned your face towards him, and found him staring absorbedly into your eyes. You were closer than you should have been, but for some reason, it didn't bother either of you. You trusted him. And he felt drawn to you.

What he had told you was a lie, though. It was true that he had gone through a creative block, but it wasn't exactly travelling to the human world that brought back his inspiration: it was you. You teaching them how to live there, being patient when they did something wrong even though you had explained it many times, you getting angry when they took your things without permission, or when they tried to snoop on what you were reading on your mobile phone.

He tried to deny it, but it was getting harder and harder. Being around you felt soothing; in fact, it felt too good to be true. He didn't want to get too close, because he knew that if he let his guard down, something bad would happen. It had been that way for as long as he could remember.

Besides, what he felt was surely just curiosity, right? It had been a long time since someone so interesting had come into his life. Someone who made him see the reality he was living with new eyes.

Because of you, he was going to call himself "Baby," for goodness' sake.

But at the same time, he was aware that whatever he felt, you were too much. Too good, too cheerful, too… too bright for the shell he had become in the underworld. Haunted by the shame of his past decisions, the decisions that had led him to become just another servant of Gwi-ma.

He had literally sold his soul to the devil.

He was unable to see that, technically, so had you.

Why had you sold your soul to Gwi-ma? How bad had your life been to reach that point?

Someone knocked on the door, and you both jumped. You stood up instinctively, moving away from him.

"Come in," you said after clearing your throat.

Why did Byeol's eyes have to be so beautiful? Shit.

Why did he have to look at you like that after writing something like that?

Why was your heart beating so erratically?

"It's me," said Jinu, opening the door just enough to stick his head in. "I need help. Abby has discovered that Alexa can fart, and he's drinking all the soda in the flat so he can do the backing vocals burping."

"Oh, shit…" Baby slapped his forehead with his hand. "I knew getting that junk was a mistake."

You had already run out to the living room, pushing Jinu aside so you could get to Abby, who was gulping down soda like a pelican while Romance cheered him on, "Chug, chug, chug!"

Indeed, it was turning out to be a horrible day.

The quickest solution was to disconnect the artificial intelligence (forever) and put a lock on the fridge. And explaining to Abby what kidney stones were.

Baby had been on your tail, your moment of intimacy buried in his mind. There were two days left before their first public appearance, and he couldn't be distracted. None of them could.

Being in the human world was fun, yes, and learning everything they were learning (how useful Google was, for example) was incredible. But he had to focus on the fact that all of this, the adventures, living with the boys (and with you), was temporary. He couldn't stray from his goal: defeating the hunters. Giving Gwi-ma a real feast.

So why couldn't he forget the way you looked into his eyes, or the way you said his name?

But while you were solving the soda problem and Byeol was lost in his thoughts, Jinu had entered your room. Without permission.

Oh, how hard you would hit him in the face if you found out…

But you weren't there. You were busy helping Abby with his stomach ache from drinking two litres of soda in one go without stopping to breathe.

Jinu felt miserable. Partly because of everything he had done and regretted (which Gwi-ma reminded him of all the time to keep him in check), and partly because he felt he was still making bad decisions. He was still selfish. He was still… a monster.

Why had he wanted to yell at you when he saw Byeol sitting on your bed?

Why wasn't he the one sitting on your bed?

He let out a sigh.

He didn't understand why you attracted him so much. He didn't understand what you did to exasperate him all the time, but at the same time keep him close to you. Why did you have to be everything he wasn't?

He walked over to your desk, which was covered in papers and completely messy. There were recipes, song lyrics, and even a poem.

Then he realised you had left your notebook there when you left in such a hurry, buried in your mess.

You never, ever forgot that notebook. It was like your second heart or your third lung. You kept it like gold dust and never let any of them look at it.

Unconsciously, Jinu traced the cover, and before he knew it, he had it open in his hands, slowly turning the pages.

And heavens!

Of all the things he could have imagined you hiding in that notebook, he never imagined what he found.

There were not only song lyrics, ideas and concepts for the band, and even notes on how to lead them to the top.

There were also drawings. Portraits.

Jinu didn't know you were such a good artist. But then, he couldn't have known, since you never talked to him about anything personal or unrelated to the plan or the boys.

And most of those portraits were of them. Of the five boys who lived with you.

Jinu was surprised to see them, yes. But above all, he was surprised to find portraits of himself.

Did that mean you didn't hate him?

There were a few...

In one portrait, he was sitting on the couch reading the newspaper, lost in thought.

When had you painted that? You had only just moved in…

And in another, this one just of his face, he appeared in his demon form, with his patterns across his face… but with a sweet look, smiling and showing his fangs.

He ran his fingers carefully over the image.

Then, he heard a noise in the hallway.

He had to leave, and fast.

He tried to leave the notebook as he had found it, and with his heart pounding against his ribs, he remembered that he was actually a demon and could teleport. And that's what he did.

To avoid you.

Because now, if he found himself face to face with you, he didn't know what he would do. Or what he couldn't help doing.

But he did know that if you caught him rummaging through your room, you would smash his face in.

︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿

Ch. 4

A/N: so! what a ride, huh? Some Baby time here! And kind of Jinu time too, if you squint your eyes a little... I know some of you want Jinu out of the game BUT I really want to get him the opportunity! Keep in mind that the idea of this story is that a new character can change drastically the plot... and the relationships of it! This means that also the plot may change... hehehehe

Btw next chapter is nearly finished and... I'm sorry to say that it's kind of a filler! But a fanservice one! Can't wait to post it hehe.

Again, thank you for reading. All of your words of support and love mean a lot to me and help me to write a lot (it's puuuure motivation!). Your likes, reblogs and comments help me a lot to write faster (kind of... ) ღゝ◡╹ )ノ♡

Taglist: @just-set-things-on-fire @nightmarewasteland @ph1lo-s0ph1a @gremlinartstudio @strayharmony943 @smoophie @valeriele3 @confusedparticle @queenskippy @enerofairy @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @nonetheartist @queeniecrystal @zariahthewitch @smoophie @lovely-maryj @nerdsconquerall @feelya @doggyteam2028 @snowy-violet @iivantablackii @satansdaughter123 @bexeris @redkitsu03 @simplyscrewed @pipperika @soukoku63 @prettylittlelavvy @kyxmlii @cloud-9ine @edgycatx @wishiwaswritingrn @ikykwkleeknowwww @starmee-lodurrson @otakusef @rubyninja1 @gblubrry

[sincerelystarry]

( ☆ ) . * and i can’t get enough of you baby . . . can you get enough of me !!

f!reader x co-worker!steve harrington // steve harrington masterlist

starry’s sweets — order #011

ask : "hii can i get a medium caramel tea cake with oreo crumbles 😋” — @imsogonesposts

summary : your best friend, robin, knows you’ve had a massive crush on your co-worker, steve, since forever. so why does she keep sneaking off with him? why do they keep whispering and giggling with each other? why does it seem that she’s trying to get him first?

warnings : lots of miscommunication & misunderstanding, suggestive content, making out but no sex, allusions to sex, reader is a bit of a bitch to robin, but it’s ok she apologizes and everything’s okay! best friend robin buckley, they all work together at scoops, canon-compliant but pre-russians

word count : 2.2k

Steve Harrington is a little bit pathetic. That’s probably why you’re so head over heels for him. You started working at the Scoops Ahoy ice cream in the new Starcourt Mall with your best friend, Robin, not too long ago. You always knew of Steve’s existence, Hawkins is a small town and you all went to school together, you and Robin only being a year below Steve. You never spoke to Steve until work, though, as you hung around different circles.

Summer break and Steve now out of high school meant no more cliques, and the three of you working together meant Robin bullying Steve for his horrible luck with girls. He continuously blamed the silly sailor hat that you were all required to wear as apart of your uniforms, saying it covered his hair, which was apparently where half of the charm was. 

You thought he was cute, hat or not, and looked great in the sailor shorts. Words you’d never utter to Steve, or you’d probably quit right then and there and move out of Hawkins, but you have told Robin of your interest in Steve on days where it was just the two of you and he was no where around.

You didn’t tell her of your feelings for him out of your own volition. Your friend unfortunately has a keen eye, and spotted the amount of times you would keep staring at the way Steve would flip the ice cream scooper in his hand on a slow day or laugh a bit too hard at one of his dumb pick up lines. What she didn’t know was how you wished so badly he was using those pick up lines on you and not some girls on a shopping spree that just stopped by for some ice cream. 

What Robin would hopefully never find out, and something you would never fess up until you were dead, was how you would stare as Steve would steal a bite of ice cream when the store was desolate and it was just you and him running a shift. The way his tongue would flick out at the cold treat on a sample spoon, and how you wished that tongue was working on you instead. Thoughts that would immediately be ceased by someone coming into the store and one of you had to tend to the register.

Just as she noticed the way you would stare at Steve, the way you’d laugh at his unfunny jokes, you noticed how she started to act around him too. How he started to act around her. They were comfortable with each other, in a way that you wish you were with Steve. Robin always poking fun at him every time he failed to score with a girl or dropped his scooper on the ground or complained about the sailor hats. Steve always looking over to Robin, the two of them communicating through wild gestures and facial expressions you can’t seem to decipher.

They would sneak away, too, during shifts where all three of you were working, leaving you to man the counter yourself. Into the hallway that Steve would let the gang of middle schoolers use to sneak into the movie theater for free. You could hear them talking and laughing, and Robin would always come back beaming, Steve sometimes with a slight flush on his face. You know you shouldn’t jump to conclusions. They’re friends, it doesn’t mean anything. But they seemed so comfortable around each other. The way they seem to act as if they were dating, giggling and sneaking off. 

Robin knows of the little crush you have on Steve, why would she do this? You have to admit, she’s pretty. Any sensible guy could see that and you couldn’t blame Steve if he’s attracted to her. But her entertaining him? When she knows how you feel, how you’ve felt since the start of summer. She’s never once showed any romantic interest in Steve so why now? Is she just doing this because she doesn’t like you?

All the thoughts and worries run through your head as you ring up ice cream for a group of girls one day, culminating into anger. You’re passive aggressive to Robin throughout the shift until she finally asks, when the store is empty aside from the two of you, “What is your problem?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, stealing a sample spoon of strawberry cheesecake ice cream, sucking and chewing on the plastic even when the ice cream is gone, just to give your mouth something to do. 

“I mean how you’ve been acting these past few days?” she says, perching herself on the sill of the window separating the front of the ice cream parlor and the backroom. “Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you somehow? Because I’m sorry— you know I wouldn’t hurt you purposefully. You’re my best friend. We’ve been friends since 7th grade.”

You scoff, tossing away the spoon. “You’re sorry?” you say, giving her an incredulous look.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. But it’d also be great to know what I’m sorry for.”

You take a breath, staring at her with wide eyes. “Going on your little trysts with Steve in the middle of shifts?” you start. “Giggling and whispering to each other and hiding your fucking relationship from me like you’re Romeo and Juliet or something?”

“Woah— wait— what?” She blinks at you, looking very confused. “What do you mean our relationship.”

“Don’t fucking play dumb, Robin. It’s pretty fucking obvious, with the way both of you keep sneaking off and leaving me to deal with customers alone. The way he’s always all blushy when he’s around you!”

Robin laughs at your words, as if they were the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “You think Steve and I are dating?”

“Yes!”

She says your name as if trying to garner if you’re joking or not. “I don’t like men.”

“Well clearly you like at least one—” you start, thinking she’s saying it in some sort of feminist-y way. 

“No—” Robin laughs, standing and grabbing onto your shoulders. “I don’t like men. Especially not Steve.”

You stare at her for a few minutes, confused, before realization dawns on you. “You don’t… like men?” You repeat her words, getting confirmation with a nod. “Since when?”

“Since middle school,” she says.

“Why did you never tell me?” you ask her.

“I didn’t know if you’d still want to be friends.” She shrugs, grabbing two more sample spoons and handing you one with a glob of cherry vanilla on it.

“So the sneaking off? The giggles and secret hand-wavey messages?” you ask, sucking the spoon into your mouth.

Robin look at you, spoon of Reese’s swirl halfway to her mouth. “You cannot be serious.”

“What?”

“Steve is practically in love with you!” she says. “Him being all blushy around me? He’s being a tomato-faced mess around you. The hand signals and weird looks are me trying to convince him to ask you out and him being a chicken about it. We’ve been sneaking away because he’s been trying to plan this date to ask you out on and keeps needing to check in with me on what your favourite drink, or food, or dessert is!”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, leaning back against the counter.

“Jesus Christ is right,” Robin huffs. “I’ve been watching the two of you pine for each other for the past month. Do you know how infuriating it gets when neither of you are brave enough to actually make a move? It’s like a shitty coming of age rom-com but worse because you two are my friends.”

“Wh— So what do I even do?” you ask.

Robin takes a large breath, as if refraining from slapping some sense into you. “You ask him out,” she says, rubbing at her temples. 

“Right—” you nod. “When?”

“How about right now?” She nods to a certain sailor-boy walking through the door, just in time for his shift.

Steve greets both of you, hand running through his hair as he does, and it’s only now that you notice for the first time how his eyes linger on you for a bit as he says hello.

“Go get ‘em, sailor,” Robin murmurs, giving you a light push in Steve’s direction. 

“You’re a bitch,” you hiss, but your words are full of love for your friend.

“I love you too,” she says, moving to the register.

“I’m sorry for snapping like that,” you say before you forget.

“It’s alright,” she assures you. “I get it. Now seriously, go get him.”

“Steve!” you start, wincing at how oddly high-pitched your voice goes. You cough a bit and try again. “Can we— uh— talk?” You nod to the backroom.

“Sure? Am I in trouble or something?” he jokes, taking a small spoon and stealing a bite of ice cream, tossing the plastic utensil away afterwards.

“Not quite.” You look over to Robin. “You can handle being alone up front for a bit?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She nods.

You take Steve into the back hallway, not wanting Robin to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“So what’s up?” Steve asks, almost trepidatiously. 

“Would you like you have lunch together?” you ask.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, my break isn’t for a while since I just got here—” he starts.

“No—” you cut him off. “Not on break. More like— a date?”

“Are you serious?” he asks.

“Only if you say yes,” you say. “If you say no then I’m joking.”

A wide, almost giddy, smile blooms across his face. “Yes I’ll go out with you,” he says, almost relieved at your question. He sobers up quickly though, seemingly realizing something and telling you “Shit. I owe Robin twenty bucks.”

“What?” you ask, confused. “Why?”

“We bet that you’d ask me out before I could ‘grow the balls to’,” he explains. “Her words, not mine.”

You laugh at this, almost snorting.

“It’s not funny!” he insists. “I’m going to be out twenty bucks now! And if I don’t pay up she’s going to be mean about it! She’s like a bank when it comes to betting.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, tugging Steve closer to you.

“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t seem to process your words as you end up only a few centimeters apart, his eyes flicking down to your lips before up to meet your gaze again. 

“Steve—?” you start, voice soft, but you don’t get to finish your thought before his lips meet yours in a kiss you’ve wanted to have for a month.

“You taste of rocky road,” you mumble against his lips, giggling a bit as he presses you against the wall of the corridor.

“Flavor of the week,” he jokes, pulling away from the kiss, head dipping to nip and suck at your neck instead. 

“Yeah?” you laugh, hands moving to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly. “What’s next week?”

“Last week was cherry jubilee,” he mumbles against your skin. “Next week will be a surprise. You’ll have to wait and see. Find out on your own.”

“God, you’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot,” he says, pulling away with his lips spread into a cocky grin.

You make some noise between a scoff and a huff but pull him in for another kiss, your tongue delving into his mouth, craving the flavor of the rocky road ice cream he had earlier, craving the flavor of him. He groans into the kiss, tugging your blue and white-striped shirt from your sailor shorts, hands creeping up, his palms rough against your skin. You tug at his hair again, eliciting a higher-pitched sound from him, one that makes you laugh at how unexpected it is, coming from a guy like him. 

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbles, his grip on your waist almost bruising as he kisses down your neck once again, biting and sucking.

“What am I supposed to do then?” you ask, eyes fluttering as he starts to suck at a particularly sensitive spot.

“Pull my hair again,” he mumbles against your skin, the vibrations of his voice sending jolts down your spine.

You oblige him, tugging at his hair a bit harder this time, and Steve practically melts under your touch. 

“Christ, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, moving back up to your lips, hands creeping higher up your shirt.

You’re not sure when, but his shirt eventually gets untucked from his shorts too, and the light indent of your teeth can be found littered across his neck, glistening with slight traces of your saliva. You’re sure you’re not in a much better state than he is. 

You’re only interrupted by a loud knock on the door separating you from the ice cream parlor and Robin’s voice calling out, “Stop fucking back there and help me out or I’m getting both of you guys fired!” You and Steve stare at each other and laugh for a bit, Steve’s laughter ceasing and yours only growing when Robin adds, “And you owe me twenty bucks, Steve!”

The two of you hurry to the front, attempting to fix your disheveled state as the two of you tuck your shirts back in. Robin looks both of you up and down when you return to the backroom, snorting.

“Nice hair, Steve,” she comments, prompting you to turn and look at him, you and Robin bursting out in a fit of giggles in the way it’s sticking out in odd places from your earlier tugging at it.

“What— what’s wrong with it?” he asks, running his hands through it in futile attempts to fix it.

“Well— let’s just say we’re lucky our uniforms require hats,” you laugh.

a/n: i think i was possessed while writing this. like i wrote a bit of intro, stopped, wrote the part where they start kissing, and like. blacked out and woke up with over 2k written. holy shit. ook it's like 2am excuse typos goodnight

[formulafanfics13]

reader is Charles’ girlfriend but she’s also closer to Arthur’s age, so they got really close, they’re like besties. they’re both very silly so one day they decide to try couple yoga positions randomly for fun, but Charles catches them mid pose while reader is trying to get to the puppy pose and Arthur is towering behind her trying to correct her posture, hands on her hips. it doesn’t help that she’s in shorts and sports bra and that Arthur is shirtless, both of them sweating after trying the previous poses. they immediately stand knowing how wrong the situation looked, Arthur leaves and reader calmly explains to Charles what they were doing. Charles doesn’t believe her at first and they fight aggressively, but it ends up with make up sex ;)

Nothing To Fix - CL16 🔥 

Masterlist

Summary: A playful yoga session with Arthur turns into disaster when Charles comes home early and misinterprets the scene. Jealousy explodes into an argument, which spirals into a raw, desperate fuck against the wall as Charles reclaims what's his — and finally admits how deeply in love with you he really is.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, jealousy, possessiveness, intense argument, rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, emotional volatility, slight manhandling.

The problem started with Arthur’s dumb idea. You were sitting on the terrace, sun blazing over the Monaco coast, half-drenched in sweat from the impromptu ab workout you’d just done together. Charles was out. Ferrari meetings all afternoon. And Arthur, as usual, had shown up bored and chaotic with a smoothie in one hand and TikTok open in the other.

“We should try couple yoga,” he said, casually.

You looked up from your bottle of water. “Couples yoga?”

“Yeah, like partner poses. I saw this one where someone gets into puppy pose and the other person helps stretch them deeper. Looks easy.”

You snorted. “You’re just trying to break my back.”

“I’m helping you align your soul,” he grinned.

“You’re shirtless.”

He shrugged. “So are you, technically.”

You were in a sports bra and shorts. Sweat sticking to your skin. Hair messy and piled on top of your head. Arthur was just as disheveled, flushed, glowing, stupidly handsome like all Leclercs somehow were, and already cueing up a YouTube video for reference.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. But if I tear a ligament, I’m haunting you.”

It was all laughs and chaos until the pose.

The video said to get on all fours. Hips up. Chest to the mat. Arms out. It was called puppy pose, which sounded innocent enough, but of course, with your ass in the air and Arthur trying to “correct” your posture from behind, it looked anything but.

You groaned as he pressed his hands to your hips. “Arthur, your entire body weight is on me-”

“Stop whining, you need to flatten your spine-”

“I am flattened!”

“You’re arching-wait, okay, hang on-” He adjusted. You huffed. And then,

“Qu’est-ce que vous foutez, là?” The voice sliced through the room like a blade.

You froze. Arthur froze.

Then both of you looked up.

Charles stood in the doorway. Keys in hand. Hair a mess. Chest rising. His eyes locked to the scene in front of him: You bent over. Ass in the air. Shorts riding up. Arthur shirtless. Hands on your hips. Sweaty. Panting.

There was silence. Then Arthur stumbled back like he’d been shot.

“I-it’s not-it’s just yoga,” he blurted, stepping away. “We were stretching. I was-”

“Get out,” Charles said, voice like ice.

Arthur bolted.

You stood slowly, adjusting your top. “Charles, wait-”

“What the fuck was that?” he snapped, stepping into the room, eyes wild.

You stayed calm. “It was yoga. He saw a video. We were messing around-”

“Messing around?” His voice cracked. “That’s what that was? You bent over like that in front of my brother?”

Your spine stiffened. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Then don’t act like that!”

Your eyes narrowed. “So now I’m acting like something?”

“You looked like you were two seconds from being fucked, and you’re telling me it was yoga?!”

“It was, Charles!” You stepped forward, voice louder. “You think I’d fuck your brother? You think I’d let him touch me like that? Are you serious right now?”

His face twisted. His hands curled into fists. “I saw the way he was looking at you.”

“He was trying to correct my posture!”

“Oh, he was correcting something, alright-”

You smacked his chest. “Fuck you.”

“Why him, huh?” he exploded. “Why not one of your girlfriends? Why Arthur? Why him shirtless? Why you in that tiny fucking outfit bending over while he’s all over you?!”

“Because we’re friends! We’re close! You know we’re close!”

“Too fucking close.”

You stared at him. Breath trembling. Tears burning behind your eyes. “You don’t trust me?” you whispered.

Charles exhaled like he was in pain.

You turned. “Fine. I’m going-”

“No,” he snapped, grabbing your arm, yanking you back around. “You don’t get to walk away.”

“Let go of me.”

He pulled you against him. “I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m in love with you and I’m fucking jealous and I saw you with him and I went insane, okay? I saw you all sweaty and bent over and all I could think was mine. You’re fucking mine.”

You blinked. Shaking. Then you kissed him. Hard. Angry. Desperate. He grabbed your waist, slammed you against the nearest wall, hands yanking at your shorts, tongue sliding into your mouth like he couldn’t wait another second. You gasped against him, nails digging into his back as he shoved the fabric down your thighs, fingers already finding you wet and furious.

“You don’t get to touch Arthur like that,” he growled. “Ever.”

“I wasn’t-”

He sank to his knees, pulled your shorts off, and buried his face between your legs. You cried out, grabbing his hair, hips grinding against his mouth as he devoured you like a man starved. His tongue licked deep, sharp, angry. His hands held your thighs apart like he was punishing you for looking so goddamn good in front of someone else.

You came fast. Hard. Loud. He stood. Unzipped. Pulled his cock out and slammed into you without warning.

You moaned, nails raking down his back, legs around his waist, wall at your back.

“Mine,” he grunted with every thrust. “You’re mine.”

You cried out his name. He kept going. Hard. Deep. Relentless. He fucked you like he was reclaiming you. Like he had something to prove. When he came, he held you against him, forehead pressed to yours, panting.

You both stayed there. Breathing. Shaking. Then, “That was yoga,” you whispered.

He laughed. Broke. Buried his face in your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I just-seeing him touch you-”

“I get it.”

“You’re really sweaty.”

“So are you.”

He smiled into your skin. “I love you.”

You pulled him in tighter. “I know.”

[svthui]

Good Game

Title: Good Game

Pairing: gamer/streamer!Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Synopsis: When a rookie streamer gets dropped into a lobby with Twitch legend SugoiSatoru, playful banter turns into regular duo streams.

Genre: Gamer AU, streamer AU, romance, crack.

Content: Mild language, twitch/streaming culture references and online parasocial commentary, mention of valorant/gaming.

Word count: 3.7k

You’d barely hit your first hundred followers this week. A milestone, sure, but in the Twitch ocean, you’re still a plankton. But your mic works, your overlays are cute, and you don’t sound like you're broadcasting from a tin can anymore. So you're winning, in your own way.

Tonight, you were just planning on streaming a chill game alone—until Shoko messages you out of nowhere:

shokooo: “hop in this custom lobby. some friends are on. good for visibility ;)”

You're pretty sure “good for visibility” is Shoko code for “I don’t want to carry these dudes by myself tonight,” but hey—you’ve never said no to free exposure.

So you click the invite, boot up the game, and join the Discord call. Four voices are already laughing when you connect.

“—I’m telling you, I hit that shot. Rewind the VOD if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh my god, cope harder.”

“Shoko! Is that our special guest?” a voice cuts in, smooth and cocky and vaguely familiar.

You blink at the Discord overlay.

sugoisatoru is talking. Wait. SugoiSatoru. As in, that SugoiSatoru. The platinum-haired menace with half a million followers, meme lord of Twitch, known for insane aim and unhinged Valorant commentary. You’ve seen his clips.

“Oh,” you say, laughing nervously. “I didn’t know this was that kind of lobby.”

“That kind?” Gojo asks, grinning audibly. “What, too intimidated by my verified checkmark?”

“Oh please,” you snort. “You play with bloom turned off. I don’t fear you.”

Someone in the call chokes on a laugh. Gojo lets out a scandalized gasp.

“Damn. She came with teeth.” “Not scared at all,” someone else mumbles, amused.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to impress you, won’t I?” Gojo teases. “Hope you’re ready to witness greatness. Shoko, queue us.”

“Hold your ego,” she mutters, asking you. “You warmed up yet?”

“Nope,” you say. “Letting Gojo carry me, apparently.”

Gojo practically purrs. “Oh, you want me to carry you? Say less.”

You laugh—really laugh—and the sound crackles through the mic. His flirting is stupid. Silly. But it’s… cute. Playful.

“Wow,” you say, teasing. “Do you flirt with all your randoms like this?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Only the ones who make me laugh.”

Your cheeks warm. You’re glad your webcam isn’t on yet.

Then the match loads, and Gojo starts making dramatic callouts in a fake announcer voice. He’s obnoxious and ridiculous and actually, annoyingly, very good at the game. Every kill is punctuated with some absurd comment—“Did you see that? That one was for you”—and every time you laugh, he gets worse.

And somewhere between the chaotic plays, the banter, and the surprise MVP he dedicates to you, you realize: this might be the start of something very fun.

***

The game night ends with a chaotic win thanks to Yuta clutching a 1v3, Suguru swearing at the lag, and Shoko casually top fragging while vaping off-screen. You’re laughing into your mic as the Victory screen lights up, watching your chat go wild.

Gojo’s voice cuts in smoothly, smug. “And that, my dear, is how we win around here.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, totally. Had nothing to do with Yuta’s triple kill at all.”

“Hey! I softened them up for him.”

“By dying first?” Suguru snorts.

Shoko sighs. “I’m logging. Gojo, don’t be weird.”

“No promises!” he chirps.

The call slowly disperses after goodbyes, and you're left staring at your “Stream Ended” screen, heart still beating a little fast from the adrenaline and the unexpected attention from the Satoru Gojo.

You’re about to close Discord when a friend request pops up.

SugoiSatoru#69420 has sent you a friend request.

You stare at it for a second. Then accept.

Not even five seconds later, a DM pings.

SugoiSatoru: 👀 [Image Attached] “hello?? explain this aim, ma’am”

You open the image. It’s a screenshot from earlier in the game—your POV mid-spray, your crosshair nowhere near the enemy model, who is somehow still alive.

You groan.

You: I WAS FLASHED

SugoiSatoru: excuses excuses 😏 I’m gonna put this on Twitter with the caption “my carry tonight”

You: do it and I’ll leak your DPI settings

SugoiSatoru: oh she’s feisty I like you

You pause, caught between an eye-roll and a reluctant smile. You type back:

You: you flirt with all your teammates?

SugoiSatoru: only the cute ones with questionable aim

***

You don’t even know how it happened. One minute you were exchanging dumb DMs with Gojo, and the next, he was in your Twitch chat blowing it up with:

SugoiSatoru: queue with me 🥺 chat tell her she has no choice peer pressure works

It spiraled fast. Now you’re sitting in a lobby with him, voice chat on, both of your streams live.

“Alright, chat,” he says, tone smug as ever, “introducing my brand new duo partner—don’t be fooled by her aim, she’s cute and deadly.”

“I swear to god,” you mutter, laughing. “You’re never letting that aim thing go, are you?”

“Not when I have the screenshot saved in five different folders.”

His chat is already shipping it. Yours isn’t helping.

You make it two rounds in before your Discord lights up with a group call—Shoko, Suguru, and Yuta all joining at once like they sensed something suspicious.

“Wow,” Shoko says dryly the second you pick up, “so we’re duo streaming now?”

“Didn’t know this was a thing,” Suguru adds, amused. “You usually ignore people who out-frag you, Satoru.”

Yuta tries to be polite, bless him. “I think it’s cute… You two had good synergy last night.”

“Synergy,” Gojo repeats, smug. “Hear that? We have synergy. That’s like gamer-speak for soulmates.”

You snort. “Pretty sure it just means we didn’t die immediately.”

“Same thing,” he says.

The teasing continues the whole session. At some point, Shoko starts adding bets in chat on how long until one of you cracks. Yuta’s chat is copying and pasting your duo name and is trending in someone’s tags, and Suguru threatens to block Gojo if he sends “one more screenshot of her laughing mid-game.”

Eventually, they all log off.

shokoooo has disconnected. geto666 has disconnected. yutakun has disconnected.

And just like that, the Discord call goes quiet. It’s just you and Gojo left. The background noise of the game hums softly.

“…Still here?” he asks, voice lower, less chaotic now that the others are gone.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Kinda nice without the peanut gallery.”

Gojo chuckles, and it’s softer than you expect.

“You did good tonight,” he says.

You blink. “You’re not gonna follow that with a joke?”

“Nope,” he says. “I mean it.”

For a second, it’s just silence. Comfortable.

Then his voice breaks it again—tentative, but teasing.

“So… same time tomorrow?”

You smile, cheeks warm even though he can’t see you.

“Only if you promise not to roast my aim again.”

“No promises.”

You laugh—and deep down, you already know you’ll say yes anyway.

***

It starts with a clip.

A short one—barely ten seconds, but it spreads fast.

[CLIP: “Satoru Gojo gets outfragged and throws a fit”] [Timestamp: 1:08:44] Suguru gets one more kill than Gojo. He groans dramatically. “Oh my goddd, how is this my life. Shoko, kick him. I’m the main character, not this brooding anime villain.” [Timestamp: 1:12:33] You get top frag next round. Gojo sees it, pauses, and just goes, “...She can stay, though. She’s allowed. She’s thriving.”

The comment sections go feral.

@xtraaimbot: so he hates when suguru outfrags him but when she does it it’s “queen behavior” ??? 💀

@sugogosupremacy: veteran streamer x new girl trope?? this is better than enemies to lovers

@G0J0W1FE: nah the way he gets SOFT around her I can’t do this anymore

@fraggedbylove: they’re literally the main couple of twitch rn don’t even fight me

You're tagged in fan edits you didn’t ask for. One has slow motion shots of you laughing at his jokes, his reactions layered with hearts and dramatic music. The caption reads:

“he went from ‘my crosshair is god’ to ‘her aim can kill me and i’d thank her’”

Gojo acts like he’s unfazed, but in your next group stream, Suguru brings it up mid-match.

“So, Gojo,” he says, voice dry. “How’s it feel being a simping main character now?”

“Excuse me,” Gojo retorts. “I’m a respectful enjoyer of superior gameplay.”

“Oh my god,” Shoko mutters. “You’re insufferable.”

He leans into it, of course. Winks at the camera. Blows kisses when you top frag. Starts calling you “coach” in front of his chat.

But later that night, long after the stream ends and the call dies down, another Discord ping lights up your screen.

SugoiSatoru is calling…

You hesitate, then click.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s up?”

There’s a pause—then his voice, quieter than usual. No streaming persona, no teasing.

“Just… couldn’t sleep,” he says. “Didn’t wanna sit in silence.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “Same.”

The mood’s different tonight. There’s something slower about the rhythm. You talk about nothing at first—game meta, dumb chat comments, how Yuta accidentally played on NA ping all week without noticing.

But eventually, the conversation shifts.

He asks about your major. Your part-time job. What it was like growing your channel from scratch.

You ask how he started streaming. What it’s like being known.

And then, without really planning to, you ask: “Don’t you ever get lonely?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Way more than I let on.”

It’s quiet after that. Not uncomfortable, but real.

You hear the soft click of his mic as he exhales. “It’s weird,” he says. “I’ve been streaming for years, had all these people watching me, but no one really sees me, you know?”

You do. You really, really do.

“...I see you,” you say.

You hear his breath catch, just slightly. “Yeah?” he murmurs.

You nod again. “Yeah.”

And for the first time since meeting him, Gojo doesn’t joke. Doesn’t flirt.

He just says, quiet and sincere, “I’m glad you joined the call tonight.”

You smile, tucking your legs beneath you, headset snug over your ears like a blanket.

“Me too, Gojo.”

And you talk until your screens dim and the night gives way to morning.

***

Your follower count starts climbing fast after that night.

It’s not just the ship edits or the clips anymore—people genuinely like you. Your aim’s improved, your commentary is sharp, and your dynamic with Gojo (and the rest of the squad) is addictive. You’ve gone from “undiscovered gem” to “rising star” in a matter of weeks.

You get your Twitch partnership email at 2AM.

You hit 50k followers a week later.

And then… the TwitchCon invite lands in your inbox.

You stare at the screen for a solid ten minutes before messaging the group chat.

you: I just got invited to TwitchCon. is this real???

suguru: let’s goooo 🔥🔥 new famous friend unlocked

shoko: try not to cry when you meet your internet boyfriend in person

yuta: wait this’ll be the first time you two meet irl right?

satoru gojo: 😳 why are we saying it like it’s a thing

shoko: because it is a thing the fan cams say so

suguru: “streamer x rookie rivals to lovers” arc is peaking

gojo: save me

you: I think they just want front row seats to our awkward first hug

gojo: who said anything about awkward I give excellent hugs. Ask the internet.

TwitchCon 

The venue is chaos. Fans, creators, lights, noise—everything’s bigger and louder than you imagined. Your badge hangs heavy around your neck, your name next to the word “FEATURED” still making your heart race.

You’d planned to play it cool. Really.

But then you see him.

Across the crowd, just off-stage after a Valorant panel, surrounded by people, hair bright as ever, sunglasses pushed up in his hair, smile wide as always, but the second he spots you, he stops.

And then he’s moving.

You barely register it before he’s standing in front of you, taller than you expected, a little flushed, grinning like he’s trying to hide it.

“Hey,” he says, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Hi,” you breathe.

There’s a beat—just long enough for the tension to buzz in your chest.

Then he opens his arms and says, “So? Awkward first hug?”

You laugh, stepping into it without hesitation. And wow—he wasn’t lying. He is good at hugging. He smells like mint and something warm, and his arms wrap around you like they’ve done this before, like he’s been waiting for it.

“Definitely not awkward,” you mumble into his hoodie.

He chuckles softly, chin brushing the top of your head. “Told you.”

Behind you, a camera clicks.

Somewhere in the distance, a fan yells, “SHIP CONFIRMED!!”

You pull back, cheeks burning.

He just smiles at you, softer than ever, and says, “Come on. Let’s go make the internet worse.”

You’re still not used to the crowd. The sea of phones, the blinding lights, the fact that you’re the one they’re cheering for now. When your name gets announced at the panel, the roar of applause makes your hands shake.

You barely sit before Shoko leans over and deadpans into her mic, “She’s shaking ‘cause Gojo’s sitting next to her.”

Laughter explodes across the room.

You cover your face. Gojo just grins wide and smug.

“Shoko, you can’t expose her like that on her first panel,” he says, mock-wounded. “Let her keep some mystery.”

“She forfeited mystery when she let you flirt with her live for two months straight,” Suguru adds, earning another round of laughter.

Even Yuta chimes in: “You guys are like an anime couple where we’re stuck watching the slow burn.”

Your mic’s already muted from laughing too hard.

But it’s not all chaos. The panel turns thoughtful too—questions about community building, burnout, finding your voice as a creator. You talk about how much it meant to be welcomed by streamers you used to admire from afar.

You don’t say Gojo’s name—but you glance his way without thinking.

And he’s already looking at you.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t smile, just holds your gaze for a second too long. Long enough for the moment to stretch and tangle in the air between you.

A fan from the crowd yells, “YOU GUYS ARE SO IN LOVE,” and the moment shatters into laughter again.

Later that night, you’re holding Gojo’s phone, walking beside him while the group’s live on his IRL stream. Chat is flying by so fast it’s unreadable. You're heading down some busy street near the venue, loud and chaotic, with Shoko balancing a boba cup on Yuta’s head and Suguru pretending he doesn’t know any of you.

“She’s holding the cam now,” Gojo announces. “Say hi to chat, streamer queen.”

You roll your eyes but aim the lens at yourself and flash a peace sign. “Hi chat. Your favorite mediocre aimer here.”

“Mediocre,” Gojo repeats, scandalized. “Take that back right now or I’ll dropkick Suguru on stream.”

Suguru doesn’t look up. “Try me and I’ll leak your old usernames.”

Shoko cackles. “Remember when he used to stream in a Pikachu onesie?”

“DELETE THAT FROM HISTORY,” Gojo groans.

You’re laughing so hard your arm shakes.

You pass the phone to Yuta next, who pans it around the street while everyone keeps yelling over each other.

Eventually, it’s just you and Gojo walking a few steps behind the group.

Your voices drop a little, just out of instinct.

“Can’t believe this is real,” you murmur.

Gojo glances down at you. “What, the streaming thing? Or TwitchCon?”

You smile. “Both. You. This.”

He bumps his arm gently into yours. “Yeah… same.”

The camera’s not on you anymore. The stream’s still running—somewhere behind you, Suguru and Shoko are arguing about ramen flavors—but in this small space between footsteps and neon lights, it feels like it’s just the two of you.

“Hey,” he says quietly, almost into the air, “thanks for saying yes.”

You look up at him. “To what?”

“All of it,” he says. “Streaming with me. Putting up with me. Letting this… be whatever it is.”

Your heart stutters.

You don’t say anything back. Not yet.

But when his fingers brush yours a second later, you don’t pull away.

***

TwitchCon ends in a blur of selfies, merch, aching feet, and overstimulation—but the night is just beginning.

The afterparty is hosted at a massive Airbnb one of the sponsors rented. Streamers everywhere. Music loud. Drinks flowing. You’re clinging to your solo cup like it’s a lifeline, not even buzzed yet but already lightheaded from the chaos.

Gojo finds you within minutes.

He’s in a hoodie and jeans, hair damp from a too-fast shower, sunglasses hanging from his collar for no reason other than the fact that he’s Satoru Gojo.

“You made it,” he says, already grinning, already in your space.

“You think I was gonna skip the one time I get to see you embarrass yourself drunk?”

“I am not drunk,” he lies.

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m—festive.”

Yuta appears out of nowhere and immediately hands you a shot. “Take this before Gojo starts karaoke again.”

“He knows exactly three songs,” Shoko adds, sipping her drink like it’s a war crime.

Gojo gasps. “You’re all jealous of my versatility.”

“Your versatility is singing Versace on the Floor in a fake British accent,” Suguru says flatly.

You end up squished on a couch between Gojo and Shoko, Suguru on the floor leaning against the coffee table, Yuta already deep in Mario Kart with some other streamers on a big TV screen.

Somewhere between shot three and shot five, Gojo gets handsy.

Not in a bad way—he’s just clingy when tipsy. His knee pressed against yours, arm draped lazily across the back of the couch behind you. At one point he tugs your sleeve and mumbles in your ear.

“You smell nice.”

You laugh. “You’re drunk.”

“Still true.”

He’s warm. Stupidly so. His thigh is practically radiating heat next to yours and he keeps looking at you with that slightly unfocused gaze, like he can’t decide if he’s about to tease you or say something real.

The room spins a little. From the music, the drinks, and mostly—him.

Eventually the group thins out. Shoko disappears to a balcony with Suguru. Yuta’s passed out on the floor in a pile of beanbags. And you’re left with Gojo on the couch, cups abandoned around you, your shoes off, feet curled under your legs.

The silence creeps in like fog. Thicker. Slower.

Gojo shifts beside you, eyes heavy, voice low. “Can I say something?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“I didn’t think this’d feel real,” he says. “You. Us. I didn’t expect you to be… like this.”

“Like what?”

He turns his head toward you. “Real. Cooler than me. Prettier than I could’ve imagined. And still somehow… you.”

Your breath catches.

“Gojo—”

He cuts you off. “I like you.”

Three words. Simple. Slurred. Soft.

“I really like you, and not in the ‘haha Twitch duo’ kind of way. In the ‘I think about you when I’m offline, and it drives me insane’ kind of way.”

You stare at him.

He smiles—lazy, crooked, honest. “Say something before I throw myself off this couch.”

You blink. Your mouth opens. But before anything comes out—

He passes out.

Head tilts back. Eyes closed. A soft snore escapes his lips.

You’re left sitting there, heart pounding out of your chest, staring at him, stunned.

And for once… Twitch chat isn’t watching.

Just you. Just him. Just that moment.

***

The stream starts like any other.

Gojo’s got his headset on, hair pushed back by a Sanrio headband someone sent him in the mail, sipping obnoxiously from a huge water bottle labeled “hydrate or die-drate.” He’s queuing up with Suguru and Yuta, casually talking shit as always.

Then someone in chat asks,

“Still think they’re dating tbh.” “Imagine being the GOAT and still single L” “She’s BEEN missing from his streams lately 👀”

Gojo grins at the screen like a cat who definitely caught the canary.

“Chat,” he says, leaning closer, voice smug. “You guys talk a lot for people who have no idea what’s going on behind the scenes.”

The comments start flying.

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN” “HARD LAUNCH??” “I SWEAR TO GOD IF HE’S DATING HER I WILL COMBUST” “I KNEW IT I CALLED IT MONTHS AGO”

And then—

She walks into frame.

You.

Wearing one of his oversized hoodies, makeup light, hair a little messy, clearly trying not to make a big deal of this, but your expression gives you away—soft, shy, the tiniest smile tugging at your lips like you're holding back a laugh.

Gojo beams.

“There she is!” he announces triumphantly, dragging the camera just enough to center you both. “My girlfriend, chat. Yes. I have one. Yes, she’s a gamer. Yes, she’s hot. Yes, all of you can cry about it.”

You smack his arm. “That’s so rude.”

“Rude?” he echoes, turning toward you. “I’m being generous. You think chat deserves to see this level of beauty for free?”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “Stop, you’re gonna scare them.”

“Good,” he says, patting his lap. “Come here. Let them know it’s real.”

You hesitate, but only for a second.

Then you’re sitting in his lap, one arm looped around his neck instinctively, still laughing under your breath as he presses a very dramatic kiss to your cheek—then another, and another, until you’re a giggling mess.

Chat is on fire.

“I’M SCREAMING” “THEY’RE SO CUTE I’M SICK” “HE’S SO GONE FOR HER” “SHE’S SITTING ON HIS LAP OH MY GODDDDD” “ACTUAL ENDGAME”

“Say hi to chat,” he prompts, nudging your cheek with his nose.

You wave, cheeks warm. “Hi, chat.”

Gojo grins like he just won the lottery. “She’s real, she games, and she kisses me on purpose. That’s right, losers. I’m living your dream.”

You nudge him again. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m yours,” he says smugly. “Same thing.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, and Gojo mouths at the camera with exaggerated pride:

“MY. GIRLFRIEND.”

Chat never recovers.

[bookshelf-dust]

late night with the devil

matt murdock x fem!reader

gif by @kamillahn

word count: 3,751

warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries, i can’t think of anything else? literally fluff and some flirting

synopsis: you can’t quite understand how no one realized matt was daredevil. he can’t understand how you did.

a/n: hello, loves! this is the first matt fic i’ve written in like…3 years?? a fic for him was the very first fic i posted here, believe it or not. i’ve always thought it was so silly that the people closest to matt never recognized his voice or the bottom half of his face when they encounter him as daredevil, so this is my ode to that. i’ve overthought this one for too long so before i hate it completely, i’ll share it with you!!! enjoy your time with matty and let me know what you think <333

————

Foggy is trying to make a call. He can’t look at you because if he does, he’ll laugh, so instead he’s put himself in the corner, nose pressed to drywall. That only makes you and Karen laugh harder. 

He spins around and holds his pointer finger up over his lips, mouthing shush. His shoulders shake as he chuckles to himself. Karen keels over and knocks her head against yours, causing you both to groan in pain and clutch your foreheads, though this quickly morphs into more giggles. 

Foggy hangs up the phone and stumbles your way. “Dumbasses,” he mumbles, and then his foot catches on a wire running to the desktop computer and he falls; he just manages to catch himself on his hands and knees. 

Karen chokes on a laugh and begins to cough. “Shit, Kare!” you cry, patting her back a little too hard. 

“F-Foggy, are you alright?” Karen asks. You blink away tears and try to focus on his form. Your stomach hurts from cackling, and aside from Foggy busting his ass, you can’t even remember what set you off. It’s that kind of laughter. 

The doorbell tinkles and Matt steps into the office. You’re rubbing your teary eyes when you hear him fold his cane up with a snap snap click. He sets a hand on his hip and shifts his weight onto that same side. 

“What’s going on in here?” he questions, tone accusatory. 

Oh yeah, you think, all the drifting pieces in your mind clicking back together in one swift motion. You and Karen had been making fun of Matt and all his silly mannerisms. Foggy was arguing with you about the latest season of Doctor Who and along the way, Matt had come up. 

“There’s an episode of Doctor Who,” you’d explained to Karen, “where Sarah Jane and Rose are laughing about the Doctor’s quirks because he’s always done the same shit with his companions, like hugging the TARDIS or making a face when he concentrates.”

Karen seems to be on the same wavelength as you, shouting, “Look! He’s doing the sassy mom arm!” You snort. Karen practically sobs into your shoulder. 

Matt turns his head towards Foggy, asking the million dollar question with an arch of his brows. Foggy raises his hands in surrender, looking from you to his best friend. 

“Hey!” you cry, “You’re the one that brought it up!”

“You were making fun of me, Mr. Nelson?”

Foggy backs away, giving you a glare that says snitch. “I may have contributed, but they took it to this level! I don’t know what’s wrong with them!” 

Matt places a second hand on his hip and he looks so much like a disappointed mother that you can’t help chuckling one last time. It’s like being busted for having fun with your siblings and your parents think you’re fighting instead. 

Your hand falls to your stomach and you begin to rub at the ache there. Karen rises to her feet beside you. “I need some air,” she says, something in her voice that tells you she might break at even the slightest not-really-all-that-funny thing. She grabs Foggy’s elbow and drags him along with her, mumbling something about getting everyone coffee. 

Now alone, Matt turns his head towards you and raises his brow. 

“You know,” he says your name, “I’m not sure I should still take you out to dinner tonight after you’ve been picking on me with our coworkers.”

One corner of his lips ticks up just barely.

Matt hears the way you cross your arms over your chest, your blouse made of silk, or something akin to it. He hears your hair scratch against your skin when you shake your head at him. 

“We were just talking about how sassy you can be,” you say, matter-of-factly.

He pulls back, shifts his weight onto one foot again and gently places his hand over his heart. “I’m sorry, what?” 

You exhale a laugh. “You know, just the way you always look like an unhappy stay-at-home mom whose kids are up to no good. You put that hand on your hip and tell us to get back to work.”

“I do not,” he scoffs. 

You stand, straightening your skirt and walking the short distance to the kitchenette to place your empty mug in the sink. You choose to ignore his denialist approach.

“Mrs. Santiago called this morning and asked to move her appointment with you to Friday. Said her baby niece had a recital she just couldn’t miss. And Mr. Ritter called about the complex on third? I took a message and left the note on your desk.”

Matt blinks, whiplashed. “Uh, thank you. But—”

“I’m gonna walk down and mail these,” you tuck a pile of envelopes under your arm, “but I shouldn’t be long.” You make for the door, a grin stretching across your lips. 

Matt raises an arm in your direction, a similar smile on his face and a blush forming on his neck. “This conversation isn’t over!” he shouts. He listens to you giggle until you’ve cleared the hall and started down the stairs. 

————

You’ve known something was up with Matt Murdock for months. You’re one to mind your own business, not wiggle your way into the details of someone else’s life, but you’d have to completely lack basic observational skills to not notice the aura he drags alongside himself. 

When Karen put the “Page” in Nelson, Murdock & Page, they realized they no longer had someone to complete paralegal duties or manage the office. You met Karen shortly after she moved to Hell’s Kitchen, sharing a customer service job with her for a short time. She was venting to you over the phone one day, rambling about not receiving enough applicants—and the ones they did get, well they didn’t meet the credentials (and that’s considering the low bar Matt and Foggy set to begin with). You joked that you could do it, that it would probably be much more fun than your past nine-to-fives, and that was it. 

You were right—even when the workload is a bit overwhelming and you’re moments from cutting the phone line, the three of them make it worth it. You love your little found family. You’re not ashamed to admit that you’ve always found Matt attractive either. Maybe it’s partially why you’ve noticed when he has bruises on his neck and forearms, or maybe it’s just that noticing things like that feels like common sense to you. He might play it off with everyone else, say it’s from boxing or a vigorous one-night stand, but none of it ever adds up quite right. 

You never told Foggy or Karen about the morning he came in and you noticed the way his gait was off, like it was painful for him to walk normally. When your eyes blew wide because there was a thin line of blood seeping through the thick white fabric of his shirt. “Matt? You’re bleeding,” you’d said. You drowned out his excuses, focusing only on stretching butterfly strips across his skin, forcing a tube of Neosporin into his hands. Afterwards, while you were cleaning up, you had tried to think of actual reasons he’d be getting injured so often.

The thought rose to the forefront of your mind like it had been there for ages, eagerly waiting for you to give it attention.

Maybe he’s a vigilante. 

That’s silly, you’d told yourself. That’s just what’s all over the news, so that’s probably where the idea came from. But it didn’t feel like a joke, not the longer you sat with it. It felt like something you'd already known. Your body showed no signs of surprise. 

But it’s really none of your business, is it?

Now, you listen to the soft click your heels make as you walk along the pavement. You’ve always liked that sound. As a young girl, it made you feel so grown up and professional. 

Matt is supposed to meet you at this cute little dessert bar a few blocks from your place. Your veins buzz with excitement as you think about the alcoholic milkshake in your future, but also because you like spending time with him, even if tonight it’s mainly to catch up on some case-related stuff. It’s nice to be alone with him every now and then. 

You’re glad you wore your coat tonight with the way the gentle breeze nips at your exposed calves. You keep a close watch on your surroundings, not only for your safety, but because you enjoy seeing people do human things. Sometimes you need to remember that it still happens. 

There’s a huge line outside a steakhouse, so you cut down a short alleyway, one you’ve gone down hundreds of times, to get to your destination. The businesses on either side of you have hung string lights at the front of the gap, so the further you go into the alley, the darker it gets, right up until you make your way out of it. 

Halfway through, at the darkest part, you trip over something hard. You stumble, scraping your palm against brick when you reach out to catch yourself. The sound the object makes when it rolls across the ground tells you it’s metal. You fumble for your phone, wanting to shine a light on it and figure out what the hell it is. 

There’s a thud and a scratch and when your light flicks on, nothings there. Well, someone is there, but that’s not what you heard. Your gaze locks on a familiar mask. You’ve seen Daredevil on the news before, but you’ve never crossed paths with him. In fact, this is only your second encounter with someone “super.” Spider-man helped you pick up your things one night when some asshole bumped into you and kept on going. This guy, though you know he is no danger to you, feels more intimidating than Spider-man did. 

“Are you okay?” his voice grabs your attention as you shove your phone back in your bag and begin looking at your palm. 

“Yeah,” you manage. “No blood, just some dirt. What the hell was that thing I tripped on?”

He taps his thigh. You squint. “What even is that? A baton? Are you also in the colorguard?”

The man laughs. It’s a warm sound. Almost familiar. 

“The technical name is a billy club. But yeah, baton works too.” 

“How did it end up down here, waiting for me to bust my ass?” There’s that laugh again. 

“Must’ve fallen out of the holster. I didn’t realize it was loose until…”

“Until I almost broke my neck.”

“That seems a little exaggerated.”

You stay silent for a moment and study him. His hands are on his hips, clad in the same red fabric as the rest of him. Though maybe fabric is too gentle of a word. Armor is probably more like it. The lenses on his mask glint in the light from between the storefronts. You feel like you should be questioning why he didn’t just make his escape, why he’s entertaining a conversation with you. You opt for a different approach. 

“How come you’re out here? This is a pretty safe part of the city. Unless there’s something I don’t know about.”

“No, you’re right. It’s just uh, a busy night. Sometimes I sit and keep watch, make sure everything’s as it should be, y’know?”

“Like a gargoyle?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You sit up there,” you pause and point vaguely towards the sky, “and keep watch, like a gargoyle.” 

He laughs a third time. “I suppose you could say that.”

A chill runs through your body. Maybe it’s not a chill. It’s more like recognition. I know that laugh, you think. You decide to drag this on, give yourself a moment to listen even closer. You smile at him, but don’t supply any more words. You glance down at your watch. 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asks, and then you know. It’s Matt. 

You know his voice, god, you feel stupid! You should’ve realized it the moment he spoke. He might be using that silly little deep Batman-like twinge, but without a doubt, that’s Matt Murdock. 

“Hm?” You decide to humor him. “Oh, yeah. Right now actually. I’m getting dinner with a friend. Don’t wanna be late. I’d hate to be that person, you know?”

You leave the alleyway without giving him time to answer. You wonder if he knows that you know. If you’ll be able to keep it together during dinner with him—assuming he gets there soon, heeding your warning. 

But if you’re really honest with yourself, you just want to know if you’re the first one to figure it out. If not, well that’s just not as fun, but you’ll definitely be proud of yourself and still hand his ass to him for as long as you both shall live. 

————

Dinner goes well. It might be a little demented, but you’re in a better mood after crossing paths with Daredevil. It helps you understand Matt more, makes conversation with him easier. Other than a sweaty brow, there’s nothing on his face showing that he understood your discovery, or alluding to the fact that he’d been out moments before he sat down at the table with you.

You fill up a mug with coffee, adding a little cream and then leaning up against the window sill in the office. You’re the first one there today, Karen having called to say she’d overslept, Foggy having stayed the night at Marci’s…which always means he’ll be late the next day. As for Matt, you can only assume he went back out after he left you at your doorstep last night. 

Your heels click against the hardwoods as you walk towards your desk, firing up the monitor and getting your email pulled up. You switch on a couple of the fans, hoping they’ll keep it from getting sweltering in here so early in the day. There might be an A/C unit in the office, but if you look at it wrong you’ll be paying for it. Literally. 

You decide to straighten up a little, picking up here and there, tying up cords so no one trips. You’ve settled down, nursing your second cup of coffee and responding to a few inquiring emails when you hear the familiar tap tap of Matt’s cane coming down the hall. The door rattles a little in its frame when he shuts it behind him. 

“Good morning,” Matt says.

“Morning,” you respond. “Coffee’s on.”

You glance up, eyes dragging over his form. His dress pants hug his thighs almost unfairly, causing your mind to draw up images of thick, corded muscle. You blink. He folds up his cane and sets it on the table beside the door. There’s a small bruise on the bridge of his nose. You only notice it when he fidgets with his glasses, which sit lower as if to hide it. Or because positioning them directly over the bruise hurts.

A comment he made recently about fast hands flickers through your thoughts. It makes you smile.

“You’re in a good mood today,” he says, startling you. Did he hear you grin?

“Hm?” You sign off an email and click send. “I’m hopped up on coffee.”

Matt breathes his laughter into his mug. “Should I be worried?” 

“Guess we’ll find out,” you chuckle. 

You both stay silent for a few minutes, you tapping away at the last of your emails, Matt drinking all of his coffee in one go and immediately filling it back up. You update the firm’s shared calendar with changes to the appointment log and add notes regarding the things clients wish to stress during their visits and who might be the best fit to work with them. 

You’re lazily looking at the weather when you hear a grunt from Matt. He’s bent over the table, one hand on his keyboard, the other on his hip. 

“You okay, Matt?”

He inclines his head toward you but doesn’t fully face you. “Hm? Yeah, just uh…”

You don’t know what compels you to say the words that next leave your mouth, but you don’t regret them once they’re out either. The look on Matt’s face is priceless. 

“Late night with the devil?” 

Matt hears the smile in your voice, the change in your heartbeat, and he knows you know.

At that moment, Foggy comes in the door with a glazed donut in his mouth. He holds it open for Karen, who gracefully balances two boxes of donuts in one hand and her hefty purse in the other. 

Matt is still reeling when you say, “Are those the sharing size, Ms. Page? Or are you gonna house twenty-four, sorry, twenty-three, donuts all by yourself? Not that I’d blame you, or judge you for doing so.”

Karen laughs lightly. “Any other day, I’d keep them to myself. But you’re more than welcome to however many you like.” You compliment her cute skirt and then she parts to fire up her laptop and pull out some of the folding chairs. You’re drawing a finger through the air, vaguely imitating a claw machine as you choose a donut. It nearly falls out of your hand when you’re pulled out into the hall. “Matt!”

He pins you up against the far wall in the hallway outside the office and says your name, a stern lilt to his voice, a weird smile on his face like he’s on the verge of…something?

You lift your arm around where his hand is planted on your waist to take a bite of your donut. You know what you’ve done, and frankly, you find it quite funny. You smile into your treat.

He says your name again like you’re in trouble. “Wh-why—what do you know?” he asks you. 

“I don’t know, Matthew, what do I know?” 

He smiles without the glee and huffs a laugh at you. “I really…could we not play the sarcasm game? Why did you say that to me?”

You take another bite of donut and pat him on the cheek. He is mere inches from your face. 

“Maybe because that voice isn’t as unrecognizable as you think, Mr. Murdock.”

You watch as his mouth falls open just slightly, like he’s fumbling for the right words. His arms have shifted so that they now rest on the wall either side of you. You finish off your donut, waiting for him to do whatever it is he’s going to do. 

“Last night you…you just knew it was me because of my voice?” 

“Mhm. We’re together five, sometimes six, days a week. I hear you talk more than I hear myself think, Matt. It took a minute, but you laughed and I recognized it.”

His brows rise and then fall back down, knitting together. He’s kind of touched that his laugh was the thing to do it for you. But he’s still in shock. “No one’s ever recognized me before.” 

A smile spreads across your face. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m pretty proud of myself, actually.”

Matt can’t help himself, he laughs. “You’re funny,” he says, before going quiet for a moment. You wait for him to start up again. “Are you sure you’re not just fucking with me? D-did Foggy or Karen tell you? Just my voice—I don’t get it.”

“If it weren’t for your voice, I still would’ve figured it out. I can see the entire bottom half of your face, you do realize that?”

He doesn’t say anything. You’ve stumped him. 

You begin to move away, attempting to flatten yourself and slither between him and the wall. He grabs hold of your wrist. 

“You…I—”

The door opens. “What’s going on out here you two?” Foggy projects his voice, but his tone lacks seriousness. That is, until he sees Matt gripping your wrist. His eyebrows shoot up. You take your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m in trouble,” you say, darting back inside the office. The group of you gathers around the little lobby. 

“Why were you interrogating her?” Foggy asks, crossing his arms. Karen crosses her arms too. 

Matt clears his throat. “Um…it’s nothing, I—”

Your gaze flicks back and forth between Karen and Foggy’s. “I figured out that Matt is Daredevil and he’s being weird about it.”

Foggy guffaws. “You what?” 

“She said it was my laugh,” Matt pipes up. “That she recognized my voice. We ran into each other and she’s claiming that’s all it took.”

“Jesus,” Karen laughs. She says your name, a smile on her face. “He’s probably mad because he and Foggy practically broke up when Foggy found out.”

“Okay, well that’s—” Matt says.

“He was being a dick.” Foggy states. “He deserved it, trust me.” 

“Did you guys kiss and make up?” you ask, giggling to yourself. That comment starts a little spat between the boys, but it quickly shifts so that Karen and Foggy are openly arguing about Matt being a pain in the ass and complaining about how he chose (or failed) to reveal his identity to them. You take the chance and slip away. 

Your hands close around your empty coffee mug and you pad back to the kitchenette. Matt’s on you though, not letting up that easily, apparently. 

He leans against the doorway as you prepare another cup for yourself. “It’s just mind-boggling to me that my laugh gave me away,” he says. “And if I’m honest, that’s kind of an intimate thing to recognize, wouldn’t you say?” He says your name.

You snort into your coffee. “Are you trying to flirt with me right now, Mr. Murdock?”

“Rather I’m just implying that you pay quite a bit of attention to me. You know, since you’ve memorized my laughter and all.”

“Oh, like I have a crush on you or something?”

“You could say that. Is that, in fact, what’s happening here?”

“Don't flatter yourself, Matty.” 

He catches your waist gently on your way out of the small room. “So, if I were to ask you out to dinner, you’d say no?”

“We just had dinner together, Matt. You’d have to clarify. Would this be a romantic dinner, in contrast to our usual work-related dinners?”

He puts one hand on his hip and your eyes light up. “You’re right. That’s an error on my part. Would you like to go out for a romantic dinner?”

“Sure, Matty. But only if you’ll put the suit on for me after.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner by @steph-speaks

[totallybelova]

First Time || Headcanons !

a/n: This includes Wanda, Natasha, Yelena and Kate only, sorry, if you have any hc suggestions send them into my inbox and I’ll see what I can do, only Wanda, Nat, Yelena or Kate are accepted!

NSFW CONTENT! MINORS DNI ! MEN DNI. THIS IS WLW!

Yelena Belova

Yelena would totally be very gentle, like extremely gentle and terrified of somehow hurting you,

I feel like she’d opt for external pleasure, not inserting anything. So, no straps, no fingering etc. She’s focused on stimulating the outside as much as possible, mainly with her hand so she can keep her eyes on you,

She’d be constantly looking at you, at your face, one because she likes seeing you enjoying yourself and two just to make sure you’re comfortable, she’d be studying your facial micro expressions. + At the start she asked you so so so many times if you’re sure, because she doesn’t want to scare you off or pressure you or anything

As in for Aftercare she’d bring you anything you need. Water? She’s sprinting to get you some from the kitchen. A blanket? Done. No blanket? Also done.

For more NSFW headcanons she is a switch, who mainly bottoms, but she’s usually the one guiding you, unless you want to, she’s definitely open to suggestions.

Natasha Romanoff

Natasha would be gentle and slow, though she’d seek reassurance more in words, she would constantly check on you, ask how whatever she’s doing feels,

She would go more for fingering, and your foreplay would be longgg, just her trying things out, seeing how you like to be touched and making mental notes of it,

For Aftercare she’d praise a lot, purring all sorts of compliments into your ear, her hands still glued to your body, gently massaging your belly,

Natasha is a switch, who prefers to dominate, she doesn’t have to be a top always, though she prefers it, she’s still a bit hesitant on receiving during sex, cause she doesn’t often feel up to it at all. So she mainly is a dom!top, but can definitely be a sub!top too. I just see her being a top mainly.

Wanda Maximoff

Wanda would be a bit more fierce, very excited to pleasure you, obviously all within boundaries,

She’d prefer to eat you out, cherishing each whimper and noise like a reward, also boob worship, so much boob worship, she just loves boobs ok? let a girl love a good tit. She’d touch them a lot, her hands still glued naturally returning back to playing with your nipples or just resting there.

For Aftercare Wanda would definitely need a moment to rest, just on your own, next to each other, the hear radiating off of your bodies that are not touching but it certainly feels like they are. After she took a moment to rest she’d ask you if you liked it and if she was good,

Wanda is a sub, but a top, she can definitely change it around here and there, but she’s a whore for some praise. praise kink? definitely.

Kate Bishop

Kate would be very confident in herself, very cocky, but at the same time it would be a very fun goofy moment between you two.

She would go for fingering too, probably on a table, kitchen counter or something, alternatively thigh riding. That is her jam.

For Aftercare I think she’d love some resting together, her playing with your hair as you calmed down, her dom demeanour totally gone and she’s a big old silly softie again.

Kate is a switch, who tends to lean into a dom!top kinda vibe, she has days where she just needs you to eat her out, but she still doms just as a bottom.

[misinformedhuman]

Heya guys, I had a VERY silly thought about what might happen(probably won’t) in TSAMS in the future /silly

(Tw: cringy writing) [I’m extremely insecure 🥲]

We all know how hesitant Sun was to put Dazzle in school cuz of bullies right? And how the others convinced him to do it anyways? What if when Dazzle actually gets in to school, Sun was right and she gets bullied.

As time goes by she’ll get targeted, made fun of, ect ect. One day she gets tired of it and reaches her breaking point. She’s crying to Sun about the bullying, as Sun comforts her, she snaps and says something like “i wouldn’t be getting bullied if it weren’t for YOU” and then she runs up to her room, leaving Sun stunned and hurt.

Now lemmie tell you why this probably WON’T happen.

The reason why Sun is even allowing Dazzle to go to public school is cuz she’ll have an illusion disk that will make her look human to everyone else. That alone would stop any bullying abt her appearance from starting in the first place. (Though that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a possibility of her getting bullied in school for other reasons)

I’d love to hear what other people think of this!! I’d be sobbing if something like this actually happened with Dazzle in TSAMS personally 😭

[thecorefrisk]

A thing I really like to do in my writing is use nicknames. Generally they are either silly or insulting but they generally tell you something about the person giving those nicknames.

Ex: my character Sable. She is given a lot of nicknames throughout her story.

Her first nickname in the story is ‘Abs’ which is basically just a bit of her name and kind of lazy.

This is supposed to symbolize how her family never really got to know her. How it was so easy for her to get to know them and along the way… they never asked anything about her. Like how people pleasers get wrapped up in it all and then make very one sided connections with people as their interests and their voice is tossed aside (by their hand or someone else’s) for the other person’s voice.

Her coach calls her ‘Snowflake’. Like how every snowflake is special in its own right. Well, mostly. Also they are fragile and it’s supposed to represent just how fragile they were with him being her mentor. How easy it was to shake her when he was around.

Her stepdad (the dad who stepped up obvi) calls her Bambi. Because the first time they met, she looked up at him with the biggest eyes he’d ever seen for such a tiny thing. She’s fragile to him, but not in the way she is to her coach. To her stepdad, she’s fragile like porcelain. Valuable, beautiful, something to protect and cherish. (Even though he straight up denies being her dad multiple times to her face and when speaking to other people. It’s a very ‘I’m not your dad’ ‘I know, but do you know that?’ Kind of situation.)

To her coach, she’s fragile like a bomb. Destructive if not kept in check. Something to be entrusted only to his capable hands. (Would NOT trust him with our country’s nuke codes but by the way things are going, the administration is going to call me specifically so they can make an extremely environmentally harmful AI just to give him the nuke codes.)

The organization she becomes apart of calls her variations of ‘hound’, ‘dog’, and ‘bloodhound’. This is both because they see her as something to be chained down and tamed and then later on it’s a moniker she uses that someone else gave her because she’s the ‘bloodhound’ character of her team. The one who latches onto something with her teeth and does NOT let go.

And the guy who holds her hostage for a while (the major villain) calls her ‘birdy’. Because he sees her as something to be caged.

Personally, I really like doing stuff like this because I really like to see how people’s own personal opinions on others impact the way they talk to them and what they see them as.

—

[Extra:]

Like, her team would generally call her fun little things. Good nicknames that at worst have her rolling her eyes. ‘Boss’, ‘Mom’, ‘Nerd’.

But on the opposite end of the spectrum, her second love interest (her enemies to lovers arc) initially called her every rude name in the book. Other than bitch because I really don’t like when men call women that— even in a playful way. He wouldn’t nickname her based off of her personality or anything about her appearance. He nicknames her based off of how she inconveniences him and to poke at her weaknesses when she pisses him off.

Things like ‘Ah, the murder victim is here’, ‘And little miss heart failure leaves the station’, ‘Watch it, amber alert’. They’re all generally connected to things that he KNOWS about her. Because he was either there to witness them or there to see the fallout.

[kenzdolls]

GANGLE WITH A BOOK WRITER S/O HC’S .

⌗ pairing: gangle (tadc) x reader

⌗ warnings: spoilers from episode 5, lowercase intended.

⌗ anon request: Hello!! I heard you were struggling with this DEMON called Writers block 🫶🏻 (Writers block when I catch you 😀.) As someone who does requests as well I typically prefer more specific requests (idk why) 😭 So I came here to request some headcanons for Gangle!! (I saw you were writing TADC and MHA most recently so I yoinked TADC.) Some romantic headcanons of a reader who used to write books for a living!! Kinda like stories Gangle would read i guess, idk. Kinda just making a silly billy book together for fun since they have nothing better to do 💗

⌗ a/n: none (but actually thx for requesting this whoever did)! requests are open.

FIRST TIME MEETING:

▹ when you first spawned into the digital circus, gangle was immediately drawn to how you carried yourself - there was this quiet, observant quality that reminded her of someone who spent their life watching and documenting the world around them (´∀｀)

▹ she noticed you didn't panic as much as the others when caine explained the whole "you're stuck here forever" thing probably because you'd written enough existential horror to be prepared for this exact scenario

▹ gangle found herself lingering near you during activities because you had this habit of muttering plot ideas under your breath ("what if the exit door was actually just another layer of the simulation…") and she found it oddly comforting (｡◕‿◕｡)

▹ you bonded over storytelling during one of those awful caine adventures - while everyone else was screaming about the weird monster chasing you, you were narrating the scene like you were planning to write it down later, and gangle couldn't help but laugh even though her comedy mask was cracked at the time

▹ she opened up about her past life working as a shift manager at a fast food restaurant, and you immediately started asking her about the strangest customers she'd dealt with because "every job has stories, and stories are just life waiting to be written down" (´꒳`)

▹ gangle was shocked when you actually listened to her vent about how dehumanizing that job was - most people just brushed off food service stories, but you treated them like they mattered because they did, and you'd probably write a whole novella about the dignity of service workers

▹ you started leaving little handwritten notes around the circus for her to find (since there's no phones or social media here rip) - just random observations about the other characters or little story concepts that made her smile (◕‿◕)✧

▹ gangle realized you were different when you didn't try to "fix" her ribbon body or suggest ways to make her comedy mask less fragile - you just accepted her as she was, masks and all unlike literally everyone else who saw her as a problem to be solved

▹ she caught you one day trying to recreate a typewriter out of digital blocks during craft time, muttering about how you "needed to get this story idea down before it disappeared," and that's when she knew you really got what it meant to be driven by creativity ( ´ ∀ ` )

▹ your first real conversation happened when her comedy mask broke (again) and instead of awkwardly trying to cheer her up, you just sat with her and said "you know, some of the best stories come from the moments when we can't pretend everything's okay anymore" (｡T ω T｡)

FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU:

▹ gangle started getting butterflies whenever you'd ask her about her day - not because you were just being polite, but because you genuinely wanted to know the details, the little moments that most people would find boring like how jax put gum in her ribbon again or how she actually enjoyed the tea party adventure

▹ she began collecting interesting observations about the circus just to have something to tell you about - suddenly every weird caine glitch or funny ragatha moment became potential conversation material (´∀｀)♡

▹ you started a tradition of "story hour" where you'd tell her about books you'd written or wanted to write, and gangle would just listen with stars in her eyes both literally because digital circus physics and figuratively because she was head over heels

▹ she got ridiculously excited when you mentioned wanting to write a story about "a character who's forced to wear masks but finds someone who loves them without the performance" and she definitely didn't think you were talking about her (definitely not) (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

▹ gangle started paying attention to which stories made you light up when you talked about them - romance novels got this particular soft expression, mystery made you gesticulate wildly, and horror made you get this intense focus that she found incredibly attractive sue her

▹ she caught herself staring at your hands when you'd gesture while explaining plot points, thinking about how those same hands had created entire worlds before ending up here (´꒳`)

▹ whenever caine would announce a new adventure, gangle's first thought became "how is reader going to turn this into a story?" instead of "oh god what fresh hell is this" character development

▹ she started having dreams where you two were in one of your stories together - sometimes she was the love interest, sometimes the sidekick, but always important to the plot (and to you) (｡♡‿♡｡)

▹ gangle realized she was in deep when she began hoping her comedy mask would break around you because you were the only person who made her feel like her tragedy mask was beautiful too emotional damage achieved

▹ you mentioned once that you used to write character backstories by imagining what would make them feel seen and understood, and gangle spent the next week wondering if you were trying to figure out her story too ( ´ ∀ ` )ﾉ

▹ she started leaving little ribbon bookmarks in places you'd find them - not that there were books in the digital circus, but it was the thought that counted (and maybe a tiny bit of hope that you'd get the hint) (´∀｀)♡

HER AS A S/O:

▹ your first kiss happened during a particularly bad day when gangle's comedy mask broke and she was convinced you'd finally see her as the burden everyone else did - but you just cupped her face and said "I love your tragedy mask too, you know" before kissing her gently (｡♡‿♡｡)

▹ you started writing little stories where the main character was obviously based on gangle - always the hero, always brave, always deserving of love and she definitely didn't cry happy tears every single time

▹ gangle loves how you narrate random moments in your relationship like you're writing them down - "and then the ribbon girl realized her significant other was actually a huge dork when they tried to recreate a dramatic confession scene from their own novel" (´∀｀)

▹ you two have inside jokes about all the terrible romance tropes you've written vs. lived - "this is like that scene in chapter twelve where the love interest dramatically declares their feelings except we're in a digital hellscape and caine is playing circus music in the background" peak romance honestly

▹ gangle started helping you workshop story ideas, and you discovered she has incredible insight into character development (probably from all that time observing people during her fast food job) (◕‿◕)✧

▹ you wrote her a whole story about a shape-shifting character who could be anyone but chose to be herself around the person she loved, and gangle ugly-cried with her tragedy mask on and you said she was beautiful even while sobbing

▹ she loves how you get this focused expression when you're "writing" (really just planning since there's no paper) and she's learned not to interrupt until you look up and remember she exists (´꒳`)

▹ you two started creating collaborative stories where you'd build the plot and she'd develop the characters - it's become your favorite way to spend time together during the boring parts of caine's adventures which is most of them

▹ gangle gets incredibly flustered when you casually mention her in your story ideas - "what if there was a character who was literally made of ribbons and was the most beautiful person in any world?"

▹ you started calling her your "muse" as a joke, but gangle takes it very seriously and now considers it her job to inspire your creativity by being adorable mostly

▹ she loves how you remember every little detail she tells you about her past life - you've mentioned wanting to write a story about the unsung heroes of customer service, and she knows it's because you see her old job as important

▹ your dates consist of finding quiet corners of the circus to cuddle while you tell her about story ideas and she braids her ribbons around your fingers it's disgusting how cute you are together honestly

▹ gangle has started dreaming about a world where you two could live in one of your stories together - maybe a cozy bookshop au where she's the cute employee and you're the regular customer who always knows exactly what book she needs to read (´∀｀)♡

▹ you promised her that if you ever get out of the digital circus, the first thing you'll do is write a book about her - "the girl made of ribbons who taught me that some stories are worth living, not just writing" and she's holding you to that promise

⌗ taglist: @idexmids @siriuslyginnychase @eleteo125 @st4r-dustx @corpsebridenightamare @boreaswrites [OPEN]

✦ REQUESTS ARE OPEN! ✦

© KENZDOLLS 2025 . do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work in anyway including the use of ai onto any other social media platforms or it will permit an instant block on all platforms.

[eizneckam]

10 Obscure Manga that are my favorites

1. The Girl I Like Forgot Her Glasses

This one is leading the list because it got an anime adaptation recently so people might actually know what it is. The premise is right there in the title but unlike a lot of other "premise" romance mangas it actually does move into real character development beyond silly 4koma gags. Very sweet and heartwarming 8.8/10

2. Tsuka no Ma no Ichika

A young woman meets up with her old college professor and they come to an understanding about mortality together. I won't say any more than than but it is a beautiful and very short story. 9/10

3. I Want to Cry with You on Thursday (Mokuyoubi wa Kimi to Nakitai)

Relatively short manga about a boy who is forced to live a false life and a girl who is his opposite. I wish it was a little longer but I really liked the characters and resolution. 8.4/10

4. Lonely Alien (Hitoribocchi no Chikyuu Shinryaku)

One of my top 10 favorite mangas, for sure. Read this if you're looking for a very innocent, sweet, genuine kind of adventure story. A boy meets a girl who's actually an alien in disguise and has come to take over the earth, and she needs his help. There's also a weird cat thing! Also the story uses The Little Prince for epitaphs so you have to like it, legally. 9.6/10

5. Our Happy Hours

A very short but sweet manga about a pianist who attempted suicide connecting with a prisoner on death row. Definitely a very mature subject and maybe not for everyone but the ending is so beautiful it hurts. 8.2/10

6. 100 Ghost Stories Before I Die

The darkest manga on this list for sure. Definitely not for everyone. A boy sits in his room, telling ghost stories one at a time. At first, the interest is in the stories themselves, which start off VERY strong, and continue to be so throughout the series run. These are some of the most terrifying short little stories I've ever read, and a few bittersweet sad ones too. However, it slowly becomes apparent that there's a story going on in the frame as well, and that something is haunting the boy. It's a ride. 8.6/10

7. Record of My Wife the Villainess

Yeah I know the title I typed isn't correct, but hear me out: I ain't typing all that lol. This was a rec from a friend outside of my normal tastes that I really liked! It's pretty standard setup, from what I can tell: girl gets reincarnated into her favorite otome game as the villainess, and ends up unintentionally getting the hero to fall for her. However, it's actually from the perspective of the man, not the girl herself. The story is paced really well and feels like more than just funny tropes mashed together. I suppose I'm not selling it well, but hear me out: Everyone also has really cool clothes 8.7/10

8. Tsurezure Children

Another top 10 favorite for me. It did get an (incomplete) anime, but I've never seen anyone talk about it except for that dumb phone joke with Furuya, so I feel pretty confident in putting it on an "obscure manga" list. School-based romcom, with the twist being that the cast is freaking massive. That's not even all the characters on the cover there. Each character and/or pairing has their own little plotline going on, which are all interconnected very nicely with the others. Some of my favorite romance writing ever is in this manga. I could talk for a long while about this one, but I'll just leave it at that. 9.5/10

9. Bonnouji

Cute manga by the artist for Touhou: Silent Sinner in Blue. A young woman gets dumped by her boyfriend and ends up finding an apartment full of weird and wacky stuff from the owner's travelling brother. They bond over silly stuff and having fun together. Very cute, maybe not that deep but cute nonetheless. 8.1/10

10. Miageru to Kimi wa

Aww look at them ... Anyway, short boy gets rejected by girl, meets cool tall girl, they fall in love? The end if you need more context than that I'm sorry but we can't be friends anymore. 9.1/10

[renamusing]

a little thing on robert's scheming and where it could go.

listen i know people are fed up with home farm because of the whites and robert's lunatic schemes back then, but i truly believe that, aside from aaron, home farm will always be robert's endgame bc in the grand scheme of things he needs to break the cycle of father/son trauma jack started there and, for that to happen, robert has to deal with the father/son trauma he has with his own son, seb.

i mean, the mill was liv's house, first and foremost. they got it for her, so she could have a home. it was the embodiment of roblivion and, after robert went to prison, aaron and liv's dysfunctional relationship. to be quite honest with you, i'm done with the mill. it has served its purpose. i think it would be much more interesting character-wise to have robert eventually scheme whoever it is out of home farm so he can finally become the mr. emmerdale he always saw his father as and prove he can be the better man (plus robert will never be a farmer like jack but at home farm he could keep the theme and remain the white collar demon he is, bc lets be real robert will never be one of the silly villagers pulling pints or serving coffee for a living, like no disrespect, but that's just how it is)

then the sugden father/son trauma cycle could restart (bonus points if robert and aaron have an adopted kid by then for the andy/robert parallels) and that would give robert plenty of opportunities to right the wrongs of his father (which he will both succeed and fail at, just like jack did, because the whole point of their trauma cycle is for robert to understand that no, he isn't destined to become his father, but to understand that jack was just as fallible as he is and that maybe someday robert can find it in himself to forgive him) not to mention, a big home farm era would ensure ryan renewed his contract every year for the foreseeable because he would have to stay for divorce 4.0 and wedding 5.0 and reunion 9.0 and all future murder attempts.

and what murder attempts are those, you ask? well if andy returns we can put at least 2 in there for fun, and bc robert will be vying for something that also has tate heritage attached to it (home farm and maybe the haulage too) caleb, kim and joe (if he stays that long) will also try to eliminate him, so we can put another 5 attempts in there. next, if the writers grow some balls and unearth the guy who robert had his bisexual awakening with when he was young (maybe he shows up at home farm again and now robert is the one in charge hehe), we will have aaron trying to kill both of them because cunty and possessive is my favorite aaron flavor, so there goes another one. then when seb is old enough, he will try to kill robert at least a couple of times bc that's how sugdens roll, they gotta have a little tension in the family innit.

and at this point you will say, wow rena you must be a terrible human being, just total irredeemable trash, because how could you wish this on robert and aaron after everything they went through, don't you want them to heal and live happily ever after with their kid(s)? and my answer will be yes, i want that so much, but i also need the toxic Juice™ to keep me going bc in 2018 they tried to tone them down after reunion 2.0 and my interest plummeted instantly. i will beg, cry and scream for them to never be boring again. i don't care how bad it gets, it's not like i will ever receive any financial compensation from itv to pay for my therapy bills, so fuck it.

they can pepper in a few comedic, light-hearted plots once in a while for dryan to clean house, have seb and eve parent-trap them 48374 times, robert lose it over aaron's cancer gene thing (the sleeper-cell plot that is going to kill us all), or finally give them (and by them i mean aaron) a dog. i want it all, but please never let them become boring again! don't leave me juiceless! if they take away robert's scheming and aaron's paranoia we wil be left with b-plots forever e.g. the big IVF bore, random illnesses, car accidents, rogue farm animals, or, god forbid, a surprise long-lost child from some random woman. the show is good now bc having robert back after so long allows them to weave a lot of intricate plots together and hold over us the will-they-won't-they robron carrot for as long as they want to, but i want to remind you that it can all get really bleak, really fast when the show shifts its main focus away from our favs.

so bring on the mess! bring on the drama! don't be afraid of bad robert and his stupid schemes. let us feast! we know robert can be good and honorable when he wants to, but he wouldn't be robert if he wasn't a chaos entity half the time. he needs enrichment (being a devil) to thrive (repent and grow). so don't let the home farm trauma of times past prevent you from enjoying the song of our people -> robron being messed up FOREVER.

like, not to get all poetic and shit, but robert was made to be icarus always reaching for the impossible (jack's approval), and aaron to be the sea that robert plunges back into (the unconditional love that makes robert sacrifice himself for). even after they reunite, robert won't stop being the scheming cunt he is. that's how he survived all those years after jack sent him away. scheming is his coping mechanism, and isn't it beautiful how aaron is the only one who can reason with him, the perfect opposite of jack, the one who always forgives him, the one who fills the sarah-shaped void in robert's heart [robert was and still is the only thing that ever mattered to aaron, HELLOOOO??! this is a direct quote from the man himself]. anw i just think seeing robert back in home farm would be a great opportunity to delve into his character and wipe the slate clean from all the white drama that happened there, also it wouldn't need to be forever?? the weirdest thing would be watching aaron living posh, but if dawn and billy got used to it, why not aaron? at least he would have enough space for his dog and the 192363638 kids he always wanted.

and it's not that i think robert would never find the motivation to scheme charity out of the pub, or jimmy/caleb from the haulage, or even eric from the store or whatever. it's just that, barring boring plots and a big rehaul of that village, i just don't see robert staying put, living in that ugly flat with aaron and having a social awareness storyline about his prison ptsd. he has too much potential for all that. why would we settle for broken meek robert when he can be all that while juggling at least five different scams at the same time so aaron can yell at him and they can fight and fuck about it?

im sorry i lost the plot halfway thru all this, but im always thinking about long-term robron now that ryan is back indefinitely, so my brain works in very aaronesque ways, hoping that robert will stay until they are 80 or something, and yeah i feel like im in the minority here, wishing every tragic crazy soap'y thing to be thrown at them, but it's only bc i know that at the end of the day it will always be aaron and robert against the world.

btw don't @ me if u don't enjoy mess. i will swallow boring naff robron if i have to because i love them any way, but this is soap man. if robert and aaron don't take turns on the crazy brain cell what's the point?

[krippe90]

hello clear pisser (drank 3 liters on wednesday 💪) and local disco elysium connoisseur, question!! i would Love to finally play DE, but the last two times i tried i got kinda overwhelmed bc the world is So Big and Open and i felt like i got too side-tracked and then i just kind of stopped playing very quickly. so i'd be sooo grateful if you could tell me if there's a Correct Way to Follow The Game? like do i just do whatever i'm currently Supposed to do or is there gonna be a point where it's not gonna be Clear where exactly i Have to go anyway so it's fine to just wander around and stumble upon and into scenes and characters? sorry if this is silly, i love feeling insecure about the oddest things in the world to feel insecure over. anyway!! bye

Clear Pisser is not the worst nickname I've earned...

Anyway, in the game you wake up having forgotten EVERYTHING; Getting side-tracked is pretty much to be expected. The game acts like there's a time limit to solve the main quest but there really isn't one.

Something to remember (the game tells you this but some people miss it) is that you can retry skill checks after certain interactions or leveling up. Some people play in a way that they save assigning skill points until there's a white check to be tried, that way if you fail the check you can assign a skill point and immediately try again. Or you can just save scum, although I'd argue that sometimes failed checks make for a more interesting experience, especially the first time around.

You can also always check the journal that will mark the checks of certain quests that you can try again.

There isn't really a correct way to play in how you choose when and where you spend your time, and as far as it's pretty hard to soft-lock yourself in the game (it's possible, but would require some extremely unlucky rolls).

ONE THING I'd recommend you do the first time playing is that you should try and wear (and talk) to the horrific necktie.

I'd say just follow your heart and play the way you feel like! The first playthrough is unique and something I wish I could experience again.

Have fun!

[reddevilmcnt]

If there was one swift way of pissing Slade the hell off, it was not giving him the chance to relax after sex.

He knew that he should not have stayed------------- he didn't want to believe it at first, but the physical was the only true connection and understanding they had between them, and no amount of almost caring was going to change that.

That realization hits him in the very moment that Harper pulls his touch away, as if to remind Slade of how little he meant and how much he'd rather slip into playing games again. (It doesn't occur to Slade how the word friend was simply enough to make Harp jealous, just as bitter as the cold hard truth that he and Harp had never been just friends, and to suggest as much was entirely laughable.) Nonetheless, Slade had foolishly still wanted their last time together to mean something, to feel just a pale imitation of love even though it was all a lie. But now he recognized the error of his ways. If clinging to illusions was the goal, he could've just stayed in his failed marriage for that... it was time for him to act on his better judgment and, let the boy go.

"Are you ever going to learn your place?" Slade backed up, waaaay up, and busied himself with his cooking, because if Harper said one more thing to get on his nerves (or worse, tried to touch him when he was getting irritated?) Slade knew exactly how that would go. Someone would end up in tears, and he for damn sure wouldn't be the one left crying.

Now the whole notion of pining over any of this seemed very silly, and when everything was complete around twenty minutes later, Slade merely shoved a warm fresh beef bowl into Harper's hands with a rather unattached, "Here. I'll join you in bed later if I feel like it." In other words, he wasn't going to feel like it. What was the point when the mood was already crushed now? When Harper, obviously, thought it would be more fun to act like a petty and ridiculous child rather than please Slade as he was currently trying to work at pleasing him?

After that, Slade ate over by the couch, watched tv for a couple of hours into the night, and then left at some obscure hour when Harper was sure to have fallen asleep. No lingering goodbyes or sweet words necessary.

----

The next few days were... odd, but Slade had adjusted, even found it easier to let go this time around. There was honest relief in believing that Harper never truly wanted him, because wanting more from someone who only half-reached back had always hurt worse. After those initial few days without any contact? He was able to draw back into his day-to-day routine unburdened, free from the tightness that used to grip at his heart whenever he was away from Harper for too long. He managed his mechanic shop, took care of some folks he trusted, and threw himself right into any and every local street racing event that typically presented him as their top dog of competitors----------- always chasing after that pure adrenaline rush that could never be denied within him. For the most part, Slade well and truly believed himself good, completely failing to notice every time a friend of his pinched their face in worry at how dangerously he was driving, as though daring the fates themselves to finally catch up with him. They decided as a group what needed to be done next: "Let's set him up with someone new." "Yeah-------- I know just the type to catch his eye."

It was a solid effort at getting his attention. Slade could be stubborn as hell; he needed time, space, and usually a gentler approach in order to break through the walls he kept up. When the next car meet rolled around, they made their move and started dragging some carefully selected pretty boy out of the crowd, plucked right from a sea of gleaming upgraded rides, half-naked dancers, and tipsy partiers. They shoved their way through the pandemonium, weaving between roaring engines and flashing lights, until they reached the finish line. There was Slade, leaning casually against the open door of his glossy black Chevelle, all satisfied smiles and heavy into conversation with a couple of racing fan girls right before they interrupted.

"Slade, you've gotta meet Rowan..."

Just like that, Slade's gaze dropped----------- from the pretty boy in front of him to his group of friends, suspicion burning hot in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he grabbed his closest friend by the wrist and pulled him aside, muttering under his breath, "You really don't need to set me up."

His friend gave him a flat look. "Uh, yes, we really do. You've clearly never had to deal with you when you're not getting any."

Slade paused, brows lifting. Damn. Was he really that obvious?

Hm, touché.

Just as he starts to turn his attention back to Rowan, something beyond the crowd snags at his white-hot stare. A face too familiar and too unwanted flickers throughout the chaos, one that he knows logically shouldn't find here, but the swift punch to his gut says no, this was very much real.

Harper's real, and he's here.

Harper sat still, watching as Slade moved around his kitchen. He had decided that he liked this, the feeling of domesticity and being taken care of. No one had done this kind of thing for him and the fact that Slade did meant something to Harper. Maybe if he had been able to express that with his words things could be better. But then if it were that easy, maybe Harper would have more than only Slade who cared about him.

Slade, despite all his bitching and moaning about how terrible and annoying Harper was, truly cared about him. Seeing the way Slade would always come back and take care of him made Harper want to be better for him. Was it immature to base all of his growth as a person on the guy dicking him down? Of course, it was. Harper was perhaps the most immature person he knew. Almost by choice at this point. If Slade was willing to deal with everything Harper threw out there, maybe it was worth investing his emotion into someone else for a change.

As if Harper hadn't already given the man his entire heart already.

As Slade moved closer to him, Harper sat up a bit straighter. He smiled back at the other, leaning in as the man boxed him in against the counter. He brought a hand up, running nimble fingers along the man's strong jawline, grinning at that sultry voice. If his body wasn't aching with pain, he might have tried to get Slade to fuck him all over again, begging for the man to breed him in every room on every surface so that the entire place would be marked as his... theirs.

But then the other's words reminded him that there was no 'them'. Harper's hand pulled away as if the other's skin was on fire. "All... Hm." He glanced away from the other, trying not to let the man see how he was reacting to the words. He refused to show any sign of hurt, choosing to instead to feign indifference. "I didn't realize you had so many friends you had to take care of. I guess I ought to feel lucky that you even bothered to respond to my texts when you have all your other friends."

On a logical level, Harper knew it was stupid, pathetic even, to be upset that Slade cared about people. But Harper wasn't ruled by logic. He was ruled by insecurity and emotions, both of which were telling him that if Slade would do this for anyone, it meant nothing that it was being done for him. In a moment, Harper had gone from feeling special to feeling worthless. It truly spoke to his vanity and self-obsession that being treated like any other friend of Slade was a detriment. Harper was better than all of them. He deserved more. He alone should get to see this side of Slade.

Harper may not have wanted to cage Slade or tie him up, but he was just as possessive. Slade belonged to him and the fact that Slade would do this, cook and dote upon someone else was a betrayal that Harper wouldn't forget. But for now, he swallowed whatever he wanted to say, too tired both physically and mentally to start a fight.

When asked to promise, Harper paused. "I... Yeah. Okay. I'll take care of myself, whatever that means." He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, acting like it was the most burdensome favor in the world. "I mean I already do, so it's kind of a waste of a promise." It was reaffirming... in a sense. Maybe it was because he was so mixed up inside that he couldn't even properly answer such a simple request. "So how much longer until dinner? I'm getting pretty tired."

[quinns-art-box]

THE MOST RIDICULOUS POWER IN THE WORLD!!! THIS IS MY PEAK!!!

guess who finished wano and it blew my socks off

[banditblvd]

William and the will o’ wisps make me incredibly happy

He’s like a tired cat owner