#still that sets up a interesting plot point or whatever

[cookiedough77]

in season 6 we BETTER fucking get argos and chat noir interactions

also this raises a question ive had for like a while, if you have the peacock miraculous its been shown you can sense if something/someone is an amok or a sentimonster

obviously argos is aware of himself, adrien, and kagami

but would he be able to sense chat noir? does having a miraculous on affect it? is agros going to feel the need to investigate first before striaght uo telling him (how adrien finds out) argos trying to find who else gabriel gave the peacock to, (he doesnt care if he finds out who chat noir is)

PLEASE??? CAN WE GET LIKE AN ANSWER???

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN AU (Pt.2)

Pt.1

Im not done with this, so to the people that wanted more, here it is! I, fortunately or not, have thought way too much again, so once more this is going to be a very, very, VERY long post. If you guys have any ideas about this btw, please do share them! I really am just letting my mind wander a bit more than usual, so maybe someone else can have more structured thoughts than me lol. (Fair warning, there probably will be plot holes, so sorry in advance!)

Please read Pt.1 if you haven't, or this won't make any sense!

After SY warped away from his impromptu meeting with Binghe, the last place he would like to end up would be even deeper into the Endless Abyss, but according to his System, the next piece of the virus was here. While not happy, since his Personal System was (mostly) working as intended, SY managed to activate Ghost Mode and walk towards the next part without having to deal with any of the creatures down there. (He had to try very hard not to get distracted by the monsters, lest his supervisor thinks he also went missing.)

It takes considerably more time to find the virus this time, so much in fact, SY starts to recognize his surroundings from SQH's ramblings (not that he was interested or anything), and he feels a cold sense of dread running down his spine. There was no way he was that unlucky that the object that got corrupted this time was-

He was that unlocky. Lo and behold, after entering a run down ruin, SY is faced with the legendary Xin Mo, power so overwhelming it manifested as dark fire covering the blade. The only reason why SY wasn't immediately writhing on the ground from the sword's power was Ghost Mode, which he could not rely for too long, as his Personal System was displaying warning after warning about Possibility of Corruption and God Like Plot Point. It all meant that SY was on a timer, and if he took too long, the sword would start corrupting his System, which in turn could corrupt him.

Now, since this was a VERY important Plot Point, Luo Binghe had to find Xin Mo or else the plot would derail to an unfixable degree, SY couldn't just snip at it, which was a problem, since manual debugging took a considerably longer time! Still, he summons his Scissors and positions it so he can start at least trimming off the virus.

His plan immediately backfires however, as an ominous crack sounds through the air and he's suddenly pushed away from the sword by a gust of energy. A bit disoriented, he shakes his head and acesses the sit-

Xin Mo, the horrible sword it was, was apparently so OP that it seemed to detect the Scissors at the last second, and the thing attacked back! The metal of the Scissors was dark and broken where it came close to the sword, almost broken in half! Which, not good! It any other time, a pair of broken Debugging Sheers would be more or less fine, if not a major inconvinience (and pay deduction) for SY, but since he'd been warping all over the time for a while now, his Personal System's energy reserves were carefully rationed, and if he were to use a chunk to send the Scissors back for some emergency repair, he'd only have one chance to go back to HQ. Alone.

He couldn't delay it any longer, he desperately needed to find SQH and pray he still had some energy reserves left.

Setting his Personal System's next warp location to SQH's last known location, SY wouldn't have guessed in a million years that he would go back to Cang Qiong Mountain, but whatever; maybe SQH had wanted to start with fixing the bug on Binghe's pendant? Not that this was the right time since it was after Binghe fell into the Abyss, but SQH had never been good at warping. It takes a bit of wandering and going inside different buildings, but eventually his Personal System managed to get a dirrect ping on SQH's System, which sent a massive wave of relief rushing through SY, since it meant that SQH was still slive.

Though as to why he was at An Ding Peak, SY could only guess.

After a bit more wandering, SY enters on what seems to be a (very messy) office space, SY feels all the pieces coming together in his mind. Half sprawled across the table with piles of paper covering the entire table's surface lay the An Ding Peak Lord, which- was already weird, since wasn't this guy supposed to be an enemy of the Peak now? After the whole betrayal thing or whatever? But that would've been something to look into later, were it not for said Peak Lord casually scrolling through a Personal System screen. A Personal System that could only be used by the System's Maintanence Staff.

SY wastes no time in deactivating Ghost Mode, and when SQH's eyes snap to his, the man jumps so high from his chair he almost falls back. It's not a happy reunion by a longshot, since SY immediately jumped his friend co-worker and demanded an explaination, almost screaming about it was all his fault for doing shitty maintenence, and creating this shitty world if it's shitty OP sword which broke his Sheers? Do you know how expensive these are?? I know you do, cause the supervisor never lets you touch the good ones cause you keep cracking all the other pairs-

It takes a more or less one whole hour to calm down SY, but eventually the younger settled and lets SQH say his bit of the story: Apparently, in his messing around with the System's world creation program when he was trying to find the bug in his world, he'd accidentaly managed to get himself actually transmigrated to PIDW, though still with (limited) acess to his Personal System, which let him still send messages to their supervisor and pretend that everything was ok. He'd gotten so unlucky too! Out of all the people to accidentaly select, did it have to be the An Ding Peak Lord? Couldn't it have been Binghe? Or MBJ- (SQH cuts his lamenting when he notices SY's absolutely viscious death glare being stared right through his soul.)

Long story short, he'd initially did try to fix his blunder, but as more time passed and SQH's access to Maintenance priviledges went out one by one on his System, he eventually just... Started actually living there. In fact, he was living so well there that he dared say his life as Peak Lord was even better then when he was with the System! Of course, since he had been integrated as a 'character' now, he had his limitations, he actually managed to get to know his fellow peak lords! He knew the name of his character's family members and his disciples! He'd managed to build a life he never even thought he could have inside the System.

Sure, did he betray the Peak? Yes, yes he did. Were they all going to die in a few years time when Binghe came back from hell? Yeah, yeah they were, and he was immensely guilty and terrified, but! The plot could be changed! He already assumed someone from the System had popped up in the Conference, as when Binghe had recently made his alliance with MBJ, and had mentioned in passing this weird thing that had happened to him just before he fell into the Abyss.

Anyways, eventually SY begrudgingly accepts SQH's decision to stay in PIDW, but he still had to help SY; and so they form a plan: SY was going to transfer some energy to SQH so he could temporarily get his acess to the full version of his Personal System and use his energy reserves to send SY's Sheers and get them fixed. SQH was also going to properly apologize to their supervisor for suddenly quitting without notice AND order some more energy stacks to be sent to SY's System. SY on the other hand had devises a plan to get closer to XIn Mo without the sword exploding his face off:

Infiltrate Demon Emperor Luo Binghe's palace as a lowly staff member and slowly debug the sword from the inside.

A perfect plan! What could go wrong?

SY selects to warp to a time where Binghe had Xin Mo mostly in control, so it is to no surprise he warps to a place were the Demonic Emperor's Palace is absolutely filled with women. Not the best situation, since a lot of people could and probably would be able to see him, but with that many harem members, it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume there was also a considerable number of staff, which, to SY's luck, there was! In fact, after he managed to activate a disguise for his clothes so they matched the rest of the servants, no one bat an eye on his presence; at most someone would inquire about his short hair, but other than that he was as noteable as a fly.

The first phase of his plan was already a success, so now he had to move on to reconnaissance which was mostly easy and the worst thing in his life. He was mostly looking for Binghe's quarters could be as he probably kept the sword close to him at all times, though with how big the palace was, his objective had gradually shifted to mapping out the labyrinth of halls as much as possible (SY was very glad that the System allowed him to create a map in real time or he might have gotten lost in the first five minutes). He walks so much he even manages to catch a few pieces of gossip, though the most interesting one by far being one about Binghe:

Apparently, a year ago, the Emperor had a qi deviation where, for a day, he seemed to have completely shifted his personality; he refused to touch any of his wives and kept screaming for his long dead Shizun. SY doesn't really remember that plot point, though his wondering is cut short when he hears people walking towards his direction. instinctively he his behind a dark corner, momentarily forgetting that he 'worked' at the palace now.

At list his bad luck was finally turning over as the Golden Protagonist himself walked past him with one of his wives hanging off his arm, looking just as cool as SY had always imagined. He had to snap himself out of his stuppor though, as two things caught his attention: First, Xin Mo was, predictably, strapped to his waist, still glitched but at least the virus seemed more or less contained, which gave SY a bit more time to work, though the other thing he noticed...

Hanging onto an old-looking braid laid SY's missing tassle that Binghe had found for him all the way back at the Conference.

What the hell was Luo Binghe doing wearing that old tassle at this day and age??

A few days passed and the Tassle Incident (as he called it) had to be set aside, as it seemed that passing as a servant also meant that other servants and even some wives expected SY to actually work. Not great, he sucked at cleaning and the other servants spared no words to make it clear to him, but it at least gave him something to do while he waited for his Scissors to arrive. SQH had sent him a few messages saying he'd gotten his part of the deal done, so now all SY could do was monitor Xin Mo's condition (from very far away), and occasionally manually debug some small virus pieces that had fallen from the sword, which luckily were easy enough to deal with that he didn't need to cut them off.

The only thing that was worrying him now is how... odd Luo Binghe seemed. Of course, he was supposed to be the pinnacle of the Cool Guy trope, so some edginess was to be expected, but Binghe didn't look just Edgy, he looked straight up depressed. There were bags under his eyes, and he barely seemed to tolerate the presence of 99% of his wives, and that damned braid with the damned tassle was still there-

Point is, Binghe acting so weird really threw SY through a loop, and he may have gotten a bit careless. At a random day when SY was carrying some dirty laundry another servant had just shoved at him, he had no prior warning before a voice sounded from behind him: "You seem to have dropped something."

He barely managed to shake off the violent sense of deja-vu that had sucker punched him in the face before he realized what was happening; Luo Binghe was talking to him. Directly to him. Shit- shit! Did he notice? Was Binghe doing a clever call back, spider-man style?? Was SY going to die????

SY shakily turns to Binghe, keeping his eyes locked onto the floor, bowing as much as possible that he still seemed respectful but the bag of clothes he had didn't all just fall to the floor. Thankfully Binghe didn't seem to mind, and simply put the fallen piece of clothing on top of the others and walked away. Though, just as SY was regaining his breath, Luo Binghe's voice stops him again. "You... Have we met before?"

SY trembles something about only being hired recently and not having the opportunity to formaly meet Junshang, and it seems to be a decent enough that Binghe just stares at him for a while longer before walking away. He really should grow out his hair if even the Emperor got weirded out like that...

Binghe started eyeing SY way more after that day. The protagonist would rarely speak directly to him, but SY could feel his gaze as if it were burning; though, since Binghe never said anything, SY just assumed that whatever Binghe's problem with him was, it was likely nothing to worry about.

In fact, it probably was because one of Binghe's wives had used SY is an impromptu act to try to get Binghe jealous (he just frowned, separated the two and walked away) and after that she had gotten infatuated with him, so she'd turned SY into her personal servant. Because of that SY saw Binghe at most two times a week instead of the 50% chnace of seeing his shadow once a week. Wow.

Because of this, as much as Binghe noticed SY, SY noticed Binghe as well, the protagonist seeming to get even more down as the days went. The tassle was still braided in his hair (SY worried it was just going to become a lock at this point), his eyebags never seemed to leave his eyes, and he was always muttering about... something. (SY managed to overhear something about 'fairness' and what Binghe actually wanted...?)

It all culminated at a seemingly random night. Most of the wives and servants had gone to sleep, only the more in-human women still hanging around, and SY, of course, but mostly it was because he wanted to see how close he could get to Binghe's quarters (aka Xin Mo) at night. Not that it was necessary, as when he was walking his attention was adruptly caught by the strangest sight: Luo binghe, sitting on one of the stone stair that lead to one of the many courtyards, being absolutely drenched in rain. The weirdest part was that a few servants and wives had also passed this place, and they all seemed like they didn't see Binghe, or didn't care.

Hating to see such an usually proud man (not that he'd seen much of that either) just soaking outside as if he'd just caught the love of his life cheating with another man, SY decided that at least he'd do a good job as a servant and take care of 'his Lord'. He grabs an umbrella from one of the adjacent rooms and slowly walks outside, covering Luo Binghe's form, not really caring if he was also getting soaked.

They stayed silent for who knows how long, but eventually, Binghe's eyes that had been laser focused on the horizon slowly blink once, as if coming out of a trance, and slowly move to SY's face, up to his hand holding the umbrella. "My Lord should get back inside. He'll get sick that way." SY half murmurs.

Binghe doesn't respond, though after a few seconds, his eyes seem to widen a bit and his breath comes out a little shaky. SY doesn't dare comment on it.

"Have we met before?" Luo Binghe asks again.

"...Yes." Shen Yuan says.

Binghe closes his eyes, and they stay like that for another hour.

Pt.3

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 6

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.4k

cw: angst, farspace fleet woohoo, military ranks, caleb uses his gun to direct readers gaze to him (i just know someone’s gonna think its hot, tbh it was kinda me while writing it), power dynamics, reader is hit on, reader is called ma’am, reader is kinda mean and lies but its deserved, mentions of injury and bandages, one (1) curse word, em’s kinda weird in this one tbh, im setting stuff up guys so shh, not proofread, i wrote this in one night so im sorry if its bad

Synopsis: Despite Em’s protests due to your injury, you both set off to finish up the mission at Skyhaven. Breaking into the Farspace Fleet to gain new information is no easy task, and the obsessive interest of the Colonel certainly doesn’t make it easier.

author’s note: I actually have some ideas for future plot points now, but I am going to set up a poll as we get close to the end to see how people want me to end this! If you have any ideas for plot points I should do, send an ask :) ANYWAYS, I’m so glad y’all are liking this series, it genuinely makes me so happy to see all your comments so thank you <3

tag list: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa @nm4565natty @feikyuu @lunia-likes-pomegranet @xfangirl-trashx @glitterykingdomangel @eialovescats @mimiu3usoft @alyssac9 @000rpheus @novaisbebita @coffeedragonhobbyist @udejoenrlddo @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel @xyzbeloved @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @myheartfollower @nightmarewasteland @feralwolfkat @junni-berry @chiikasevennn @lethalasylum @loudpiratepirate @sweetnightowl @rafaissance @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises

Series Masterlist

“I understand that, Jenna!” Em’s voice rang through the apartment, anger building as the conversation continued. “What I don’t understand is how you can expect a person to follow through on a mission with a stab wound!”

You watched her from your spot on the couch, slowly fidgeting with the bandages on your waist, a slight grin on your face. It was funny, watching Em argue for you. You already knew how it would go, though. When you turned in your injury report, Jenna had told you to take a couple days rest, but the mission really could not wait.

You were doing it whether you wanted to or not.

“Can I not just finish the mission on my own?” she asked, exasperated. You heard mutterings on the other end, something about the ‘valuable information’ that was ‘necessary to the mission.’

Meaning, you were necessary to the mission.

Em hung up the call with a defeated sigh, collapsing next to you on the couch. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Looks like you have to finish out the mission with me. Protocol or whatever,” Em scoffed.

You shrugged. “It’ll be fine. Thanks for trying, though.” You smiled. Em grinned, looking away. “What do we have to do next, anyway?”

Em pulled up the mission report on her phone, scanning through the updates and data. “This says our target left the N109 Zone once he realized we were onto him. Nero thinks he’s gone for…” She scrolled a little farther. “Skyhaven.”

It was weird, you thought, that to get to Skyhaven, you had to ride a train.

Sure, it was anti-gravity, but it was still weird, so out of place.

The intercom crackled to life. “The Coelum Express will be arriving at its station in Skyhaven shortly. Please prepare for departure.”

You stood to get your backpack from the overhead rack, but Em gently pushed you back into your seat. “Let me. Don’t want your wound to get worse if you strain yourself.” She shot you a tense smile, pulling it down with ease.

“I’m not made of glass, you know. At least let me do something on my own,” you laughed.

Em shook her head, slinging your bag over her shoulder. “Someone’s got to take care of you.” She pulled down her own bag before offering you her hand. “Ready?”

“I have to be, don’t I?” you sighed, letting her help you up.

As you exited the train, you were met with an overwhelming metallic scent. It permeated the air until it was almost suffocating.

The city gleamed in the sunlight, glinting and reflecting light until it was nearly blinding. Skyhaven was a sight, the pinnacle of the future, and yet so unnerving. It was too clean, lacking any sort of character in the uniform silver architecture.

“Come on, we’ll go to the hotel the Association booked for us and plan our next move.” Before you could respond, Em was already walking, lightly tugging you along by your hand.

“I already have an idea of what we’ll need to do,” you began. “Nero and I found that lot of our target’s connections were in positions of power. In the N109 Zone, that meant businessmen and underworld bosses. In Skyhaven…” You hesitated, earning a suspicious glance from Em. “It’s Farspace Fleet officials.”

Em’s steps halted slightly, her fingers flexing against your own. She kept walking, keeping her focus ahead of her. “We’ll have to infiltrate the Fleet, then?”

You nodded. “We have an identity set up for you, but I don’t have one yet…”

“That’s good,” Em cut you off, “You don’t need to get involved with the Fleet.”

“Yes, I do.” You pulled your hand out of her grip, and Em stopped to look back at you. “I’m a part of this mission, too.”

Em scoffed, shaking her head. Whatever she planned to say, she decided against as she turned away from you again. “Fine,” she muttered.

Once you got into the hotel room, you were pulled into a phone call with Nero.

“I’ve gotten a couple uniforms for you two, which you should have by now, but I only have an identity card that will work for Em. Sorry, but you don’t fit the description,” he apologized.

“It’s alright,” you assured him. “How badly do I need an identity card.

The sound of computer keys clacking on the other end of the phone filled the silence. “You’ll need it to gain access to certain places, but you could probably just lie your way through most of it without one.”

“It’s risky, but it sounds like it’s all we’ve got,” you murmured.

“Yeah, we don’t have many other options,” Nero agreed. “We need both of you on this mission, and we can’t wait any longer.”

Em, listening in from the other room, only gave a hum of disapproval. She walked in, tying the tie on the uniform that had arrived only a few minutes ago.

“Nero, I think we’re going to leave for the Fleet soon. Is there any last minute info I should know?”

“I think you have everything,” he said. A slight hesitation. “Please, be careful.”

You smiled. “I will.”

The Farspace Base loomed on the edge of Skyhaven. Tall and imposing, much like it’s Colonel you could see in the distance, apparently just recently back from a mission in the Deepspace Tunnel.

I’ve got to avoid him at all costs, you thought. Meeting him now could be detrimental to the mission, and you did not want to get caught by the Colonel like Em did in the main story.

Would you be able to withstand an interrogation?

As you crossed through the gate, you didn’t notice the mechanical creak of flapping wings above you.

“I’ll get access to their database, do you think you can talk to some higher ups to get info on our guy?” you whispered to Em.

She nodded. “I’ll make them talk,” she said darkly.

“I guess this is where we split up. Make sure to keep your mic on, and stay safe.”

Em returned your smile. “You too.”

You took off through the base, trying to make it seem like you belonged. You tried to keep your shoulders back, your head high, your steps deliberate. If you looked like you knew where you were going, no one would stop you, right?

Just one issue: You didn’t know where you were going.

The floor plan of the base was one extremely well hidden, and you had only gained access to part of it. Unfortunately, all you knew was that archives were underground.

You stepped into the elevator, thankful that it was empty. As it took you down two floors, you quickly pulled out your phone. Although your internet usage was likely being tracked, you needed to check the floor plan one more time.

You left the elevator, straightening your coat slightly. You passed a few men as you walked down the corridor. You returned any nods given, though you barely spared them a glance. If you didn’t want to be bothered, you thought, it would be better to pretend to be a higher ranking official. Luckily, it seemed no one intended to stop you.

That was, until a whistle cut through the otherwise empty corridor.

“Where you going, sweetheart?” An obnoxious voice rang through the hallway.

Your eyes flicked to the two snickering boys near the door to the archives. Of course they were where you needed to go. Your gaze dropped to their uniforms. No medals or distinct markers of rank.

They were just soldiers.

Pawns.

You rolled your shoulders, praying this wouldn’t end badly. “Is that how you talk to a Lieutenant Colonel?” you barked. Their eyes widened and they straightened from their relaxed stance.

“We’re sorry, ma’am!” They recited.

You shook your head, disappointed. “I wonder what they teach new soldiers nowadays…” Your gaze snapped back to the boys. “My eyes are up here, solider! Stop staring at the ground.”

“Yes, ma’am! Sorry, ma’am.”

You clicked your tongue. “Just be useful for once in your life and open the archives for me.”

They obeyed wordlessly, using their keycards and quickly excusing themselves once the door was open. You walked in, nearly shrinking back from the rows upon rows of filing cabinets.

You took a deep breath, stepping further in and making a mental note of the data you needed to find.

As you opened a file on the central server, you felt an immense pressure pressing down onto you, almost pushing you into the floor.

A cold voice cut through the even colder room. “I wasn’t aware there was a new Lieutenant Colonel. That’s something I would be made aware of, wouldn’t you agree?” Heavy, practiced footsteps behind you nearly stopped your breathing.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, which earned you a sharp inhale from the Colonel as he leaned in next to you.

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t know you were here?” he asked, an empty humor tinging his voice.

You were silent again.

He sighed, putting the barrel of his gun under your chin, pulling it so that your head turned and your eyes met his. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. “No…?” he urged.

You swallowed. “No, sir.” You looked down.

The Colonel nudged his gun against your neck. “Keep your eyes on me.” He looked at the computer in front of you, using his free hand to scroll through the documents you’d barely managed to read. “You’re from the Hunter’s Association.” He didn’t wait for your confirmation. Didn’t need to. “We’ve already caught your little friend, so why don’t you be good and cooperate?”

“What… do you need me to do?” you asked.

The Colonel dropped his gun back into its holster, standing tall in front of you. “We need to ensure you don’t know something about the Fleet that you shouldn’t. I need to clarify that you haven’t found out any confidential information if you want to leave. Now, let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for your response as he pulled you by the arm out of the room. He kept his hand firmly around your bicep as he led you through the twists and turns of the base.

Finally, he unceremoniously pushed you into a dim, gray room.

You spotted Em sitting at the empty silver table, and watched relief fill her eyes as she caught sight of you. The door shut and you became acutely aware of the Colonels’ body heat radiating onto you.

“What are you two doing here?” he hissed. You moved closer to Em as he walked forward, leaning over with both hands on the table. “I thought you knew not to try and get into the Fleet again after last time.”

“I’m sorry, Caleb, but we had another mission,” Em explained.

“And you didn’t tell me? Pip-squeak, I thought we talked about this. I just want to keep you safe, why are you making that so hard?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t just abandon my mission every time you think it’s unsafe, Caleb,” she argued.

Caleb only lightly hummed, not looking at either of you. You watched his hands clench against the table, black leather straining against them. “You’ll stay with me while you’re here.” He pushed off the table. “That’s an order,” he said as he left the small room.

You and Em were silent as Caleb picked you up from the hotel, taking you both to his apartment. “I hope I didn’t scare you!” he grinned as he took your bag.

It was odd to see in-game, but the shift in Caleb’s behavior was even more jarring in-person. He was all bright smiles out of the monotonous tones of the Farspace Fleet.

You shook your head, smiling lightly. “It’s alright,” you said.

“I still feel bad. Em scolded me pretty good after I interrogated her when she first infiltrated the fleet. I’ll be cookin’ tonight to make it up to you,” he offered.

Em’s eyes flicked between you and Caleb, scanning for something you didn’t know.

“You don’t have to,” you laughed. You knew he would anyway, of course. As long as Em was there, he’d do anything. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep up this polite attitude. It was straining, being constantly on-guard.

“Are you alright?” Em suddenly asked.

You looked at her. “Yeah…? Why?”

“You just looked like something was off. Is it your wound?” She pressed.

Caleb’s brow furrowed. “Woah, woah. You’re injured? And still on a mission?”

“Jenna said I had to finish it out for protocol. It’s fine, really,” you chuckled nervously.

Caleb hummed in disapproval, just like Em did earlier. “I’ll check it for you later, if you’d like.” Although he worded it like an offer, you understood: He was going to check it later, to make sure it was alright whether you liked it or not.

You’d come to expect it, but the protective nature he was showing you that he usually reserved for Em still confused you.

What had happened to make these men act so differently around you?

It almost seemed like they were more comfortable with you than with Em at times.

You ruled out the possibility of knowing each other before, of it being some part of your life in this world that you didn’t remember. That wasn’t an option since Em had introduced you for the first time, and none of them ever said anything to indicate otherwise.

You tried to figure it out later, when you were cuddled into the couch in Caleb’s apartment. You were mindlessly folding paper airplanes after Caleb taught you and Em how.

Maybe it was just some freak accident, you thought as you tossed the paper airplane. It soared for a few seconds, before Caleb walked over.

“Intercepted.” He grinned as he held it afloat with his evol. “You can’t fly without the Colonel’s permission.” Caleb tossed the airplane back to you. “Your punishment?”

This felt familiar, you thought while Caleb pretended to deliberate the matter.

“How about this? You must miss me more with each passing day.”

Shit.

Another Relax Time interaction.

“You two look like you’re getting along well,” Em observed with her arms crossed.

Caleb laughed. “I guess your friend’s just really easy to talk to, pips.”

Em raised an eyebrow.

Was that really it?

You couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably in your sit, feeling like something was different. This didn’t feel like you were simply getting along with each Love Interest, this felt like you had a connection.

So just what was different?

Were you messing things up for Em and the plot?

What would happen to you if you were?

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

[octoberautumnbox]

Consider: Yubin who's your seatmate and is very professional in school but every night at 10pm you get the raciest, sauciest, spiciest nudes from her with no warning

Hell Week

tripleS Gong Yubin & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, that's p much all anyone needs to know i think

Word count: 5.5k holy shit

a/n: jeez howd it get this long :nolookk: oh btw i took some liberties with the prompt not that u care heres the fuckin yubin fic :DDDD

~~~

A hand lays itself on your shoulder, the sudden contact nearly making you jump. You turn around and find Yubin clutching a book to her chest with a gentle look on her features. Gesture over to the chair across from you, all the while trying to get your heart rate back under control. 

“My bad, didn't see you were locked in.” She gets into the chair left of you anyway and turns her book to the same page as yours. “How's it going?”

You stretch and groan to let out as much of your tiredness as you can, paying just a bit of mind to everyone else in the library doing pretty much the same. “Dunno. Around twenty minutes ago I accepted I'm retaking this class. What's up with you?”

She giggles while her eyes scan across the paragraphs talking about desert flora and types of precipitation. She rests her cheek on her palm, “I still have a bit of fight in me, but I'm losing hope. I was hoping I could borrow some from you.”

“Sorry, Yubin,” you whisper with every ounce of sympathy you had, “fresh out.” You return to your own book, yet all you do is run your eyes over the same page over and over without much staying in your head. 

A cursory look over to your left shows you scholar-mode Gong Yubin: focused, sharp, and serious. Not that it ever got in the way of you two being friends, but when she gets like this, you know better than to underestimate her–she's capable of plotting the downfall of kingdoms if she set her mind to it. 

However, at the same time, you notice her distress, then immediately notice how well she hides it. It's the same slight crease of her eyebrows in freshman orientation, after midterms in Linguistics 103, and when she finally stopped putting off Geology 102. The realization dawns on you: the situation is dire now that she asks for your help while she's like this, so how could you let her down now?

“Bet you I can score higher,” you challenge her. You have no good reason to issue such a proposition, but if it means giving her support how it matters, whatever embarrassing thing she'll make you do is more than worth it.

It piques her interest and a smile pulls up the corners of her lips. She side-eyes you with an excitement she didn't have just two minutes prior, and you know it worked. “If I win,” she announces as loud as she's allowed to, “make me thick tofu stew. The right way.” 

“Really? That's it?” Then you rebut with just as much fervor, “If I win, you do three of my essays in comparative lit next semester.”

“Now hold the fuck on,” she stumbles, her eyes grown wide and her smile grown toothy, “if you're gonna raise the stakes like that, I need to think of something else!”

Your phone and hers vibrate at the same time, and your screen reads “Get your ass over to Geog.” You both pack your bags and head off to your last Geology class before finals together, and as your book takes its place in the darkness of your backpack, “Fine, but I get to change mine too when I hear yours,” and the spring in her step as you walk tells you it's mission accomplished. 

~~~

In hindsight, it really wasn’t all that bad. The class review session your professor held that day helped you nail down just enough of whatever the fuck sleet might be, and while you're certain it isn't flying colors, your grade at least wouldn't be red. 

Coming out of the exam room, you spot Yubin just seconds before she finds you, and your good deed pays for itself as she skips to approach. 

“Got a good feeling?” There was no point in asking other than that you had to hear it from her, though the wide grin on her face was proof enough. 

“Yeah, I think barely,” she sways cutely from side to side, “and don't think you're off the hook!” She hits you light on the arm, and the most shining feature you can’t ignore is her eyebrows without any sign or symptom of the crease. 

“Not over ‘til the fat lady sings, Gong Yubin,” though you know she's already won. “Three whole essays against… Haven't you decided yet?”

“No, not yet, but the bet is still on!”

You relent, “Fine, fine. Anyway, Nakyoung’s treating the gang to drinks tonight. Wanna come?”

“Nah, busy. Laundry and stuff.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot, and you can tell she’s giddy about what her grade is going to turn out to be. It’s a sight for sore eyes, especially ones that have seen too many grainy tectonic plates and water cycle diagrams. “And why do you insist on full-naming her?”

“I know someone whose name sounds the exact same. As far as I’m concerned, our Nakyoung’s the other Naky.” You place your hand on the small of her back and lead her away from the doorway, and she walks with you without a second thought.

“Mean. You’ll have to introduce me to this first Naky, then.” You slide into rhythm with her gait, and it hits you just how relieved you are for Yubin’s worries to be over. 

It seems such a waste, you think, that laundry is the only thing keeping her away from celebrating, so as you walk out of the Social Sciences building, you bargain one more time: “We’ll be there all night, so just come by when you’re done. I speak for everyone when I say we want you to come, please?”

She giggles again, “I’ll see what I can do. It’s not like I don’t wanna be there, either. Plus,” she admits defeatedly, “we’re getting the results later, and God knows I’d rather not be alone when it comes.” 

~~~

“Hey, where's Yubin?” Nakyoung slings an arm around your shoulder and shoves another mug of beer into your hand. It's a welcome gesture, and it takes all of two and a half seconds for you to down half of it. 

“She has laundry,” you nearly shout back your reply above the music. “Said she'll drop by if she has time.”

Nakyoung makes to yell another reply right into your ear, but decides to pull you away into one of the quieter booths in the bar. “She's a goody-two-shoes, no? Laundry, oh please. Kaede hasn't done laundry in two years.” She takes a gulp of her own beer and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“Hey. She studied her ass off for that test. I made a bet with her and it looks like she has high spirits, but I honestly dunno what I'd do if she fails.”

Your friend takes your chin up with her finger and you realize how pensive an expression was sitting on your face. “This is Gong Yubin. You know she'll kill it.” Nakyoung flashes a confident smile, and it reassures you almost more than your own trust in Yubin herself. “You drunk yet?”

“Nah, not getting shitfaced without Yubin.”

“Cute. You know she likes you too?” 

“Go fuck yourself, Nakyoung. Go steal Seoyeon's boyfriend while you're at it.”

“I wish; she has him under lock and key. But I wouldn't really mind both of them,” she muses, eyeing Seoyeon in the middle of the dancefloor. 

Just then, the devil strolls in through the front door. “Hi! You weren't kidding, it's really loud in here,” Yubin exclaims with her hands shielding her ears as she adjusts to the noise.

She takes Nakyoung's seat–you whip your head around and find Nakyoung at the dancefloor, with Seoyeon grinding against her–and picks up Nakyoung's old mug. She takes a careful sip and ends it with a relieved ahhhh, before setting it back down and getting to business. She leans in like keeping a secret, though she can't hide her toothy grin. “Have you seen your grade yet?”

“It's out?!” You fumble for your phone, and the second it lights up, cold runs through your veins–the email notification is the first thing at the top of the screen. Meanwhile, Yubin calmly slides her phone across the table to you. She asks “I read yours, you read mine?” with the sweetest smile on her face, again with the slight crease on her eyebrows.

Calm your nerves, silence the alarms blaring in your head. You know she did well, absolutely certain. However, it still doesn't soothe you enough; not until you see the grades for yourself. So, as your thumb hovers over her email, your heart nearly beats out of your chest, only to see–

“You got 87 percent,” Yubin states in the blandest, matter-of-fact tone you've ever heard. Her eyes move left and right over the same spot on your phone, making ultimate certain that she's reading it right. Once she is, her tone softens just enough, “Yeah, 87 percent. Wow, that's good,” she sighs with relief, “... Hard to beat.”

Now her turn, you peek at her score. doing the same making sure, and then some. When you read it for the fifth time, you kick yourself mentally for being so worried and having such little trust in the genius that is Gong Yubin. “Goddamn, 95 percent.”

Her eyes widen like sinkholes as her hand flies to cover her mouth. It almost doesn't matter that you hand her back her phone; she snatches it back anyway. Her disbelief chips away at itself with every run through of the email she reads for herself, and when she's finally done, returns her shocked gaze back to you.

“You were that scared of three essays?” you joke. The beer tastes sweeter now that your worries have gone, and as if all six septillion kilograms of the world is off your shoulders. 

“No, three essays is easy,” she taunts, but immediately her voice takes on a gentler tone, “so I win, right?”

You scoff at her haughtiness, but your relief triumphs over all. “Yeah, whatever. What do you want?”

“... I wanna go home. This is enough excitement for one day.”

“Alright, let me take you. Tell me in the cab what you want for winning, though?”

“Sure,” she says with a tiny smile.

~~~

“So,” she declares. She catches her breath, and her face is overcome with a subtle red flush, “about the bet.”

“Yeah, about the bet.”

“I want…” and she hesitates. The cab runs over a mild speed bump, and the resulting sway seemingly knocks her completely out of focus. She gathers her resolve once more, as if every time she tries to speak she drops it and has to pick it up again. 

“You want…?”

It's a good couple minutes of her breathing heavily, and your concern shows itself for her and whatever she has planned for you.

“Is it illegal? What could possibly be so bad that you're hesitating this much?”

“No, no, shut up. I'm working on it.” She takes one last deep breath, even placing a hand on her heart to steady it. “I want… a cum tribute.”

“... A cum tribute.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to…?”

“I'll send you a photo. And do it on that.”

“You want a photo of–”

“Video.”

“You–video?”

“I want a video. Of you. Cumming on a photo. My photo. I'll send it to you.”

There's no way the cab driver doesn't think this is weird. Then again, he has an earphone in, so he might not be listening in at all. You get the feeling Yubin doesn't care either way, completely focused on you. 

“... Alright. You want it this bad, fine.”

“Good. Um,” she follows, “sorry in advance. It's gonna be my first time… taking a photo like this.” She refocuses her attention to the buildings whizzing by outside as she says it, the telltale sign the conversation is over. Still, it lingers in your head for a little while: Yubin's first time. 

~~~

“Look, I'm sorry,” she sighs, “just come up with me? Please?”

You're standing with her outside her dorm, all the while the meter ticks away in the cab. The driver waits expectantly inside for you to get back, but Yubin's fingers wrapped around your sleeve make for a very difficult decision. 

“Okay, okay, just let me pay the cab driver,” you concede, but as soon as you sum up the fare, Yubin snatches it from you and brings it over herself. She and the driver exchange a few words, ending with her waving him off and him leaving her in the dust. She waddles back with her signature grin: the one that tries and fails to hide her excitement. 

“Can I just ask why you want it so bad?”

She shakes her head, “Nope. Now shush,” as you both make the now-silent trek up the four flights of stairs to her floor and room. 

Upon entering, you immediately notice it's nicer than most dorm rooms: huge space, carpet floors, a big window, and two double-size beds, not to mention its own bathroom. It makes you stop and wonder if you ever glossed over any signs that Yubin or her family might come from old money.

“Uhh, give me a few minutes to get ready. The bed on the right is mine, make yourself at home. WiFi password by the light switch. Kaede doesn't like her stuff messed with, so steer clear.” Yubin then disappears into the bathroom, and you lay yourself down on her bed. You're made aware of how you sink comfortably into the memory foam, and of the disarming fragrance that wafts from her bedsheets and pillowcases. She's always smelled like this, you recall, but it's rather nice, you finally admit. 

“Hey,” Yubin attempts. She sits on the edge of her bed next to you, wearing a set of pajamas and no makeup at all. You always knew Yubin was a pretty girl, God knows how many times she's been asked out, but seeing her like this is new; her allure draws you in with a smile and an embrace. Shit, was Nakyoung right? Do you like her? 

“So… How do you want me?” She avoids your eyes and touches her fingertips together, a blush forming on her cheeks. 

“Do you… Do you have a tie?”

Her ears perk up, “Yeah, hold on,” and she retrieves a thin, striped necktie from her dresser. She places it around her neck, her fingers delicately maneuvering the fabric into an intricate-looking knot, and when she's done, she presents herself to you. 

“Take off your top, Yubin,” you tell her, and she hands you her phone with the camera already on. Point it at her, making sure the flash is off, and start taking pictures one by one. 

She pushes aside the tie and fiddles with the top button. It's effortless how she undoes it, and she pulls the collar apart to show you more of her. She unbuttons the next, then the next, all the while showing you her smooth skin. With half the buttons undone, she shows off her chest, showing nothing but skin underneath her top.

You take a moment to catch your breath, swallow your spit. “Are you sure about this, Yubin?” 

“Yeah… Just keep going, please.” She undoes her fifth button at the very bottom, revealing her midriff and making you salivate. Must be heaven to kiss her there, when she snaps you out of it, “Are you still taking pictures?” Am I that distracting?” Look up to her, find her with the same sweet smile on her face but with a new blush decorating her cheeks.

Her last button is her fourth, and it's undone before you know it. She keeps her pajama top on a little bit longer, covering her chest a little bit more, and finally she shrugs it off one shoulder. It's nothing but everything all at once, and the split second your self-control wavers is the exact moment you leap in.

You drop her phone somewhere on the mattress; both your hands grip her shoulders as your lips capture hers. She leans into the kiss, wrapping her fingers on the back of your neck, and tiny moans escape her amidst smooches that get louder the hungrier she gets. 

Pull the top off her other shoulder, and she finally strips it all off. However, you can't even enjoy the sight, not yet, as you draft down from her lips to her slender neck, leaving a trail of kisses on your way. She runs her fingers through your hair before holding you in place, all the while leading your free hand to her chest. 

She sucks air in through her teeth, “That's really good, just like that…” she moans as her head tilts to allow more access to her neck. The scent of her shampoo fills your nostrils and you feel yourself getting addicted, but not as much as to the softness of her skin. 

She pulls you down onto the bed, and you find yourself leaning over her. Yubin lies under you, watching you intently and waiting for what you'll do next. Her tie sits right in the valley of her tits, and it drives you wild. Take a nipple in between your teeth while you fondle her other breast. She breathes heavy in pleasure, wordlessly asking for more and more of your attention and love. Her fist closes on your hair as she pushes you further onto her chest, her other hand hopelessly tugging on your pants.

It's all the message you need from her: your pants go, then your underwear, then everything else. Your cock stands hard in her sights, and the way her fingers wrap around your length is nothing short of heaven. 

“Do… do you wanna do it with me?” Her question is purely innocent, without a single hint of malice in her voice. She rubs your shaft slowly, sending waves of tantalizing pleasure throughout your whole body.

“Do you have condoms?”

“... Kaede will forgive me.” She crawls down the ladder, picks out a square plastic wrapper from her roommate's dresser, and hurries to get back to you. The smile on her face as she comes up the ladder again is one of, if not the most beautiful things you've ever seen. 

You guide her as she puts the condom on you, and the sensation of her fingers gently unrolling the rubber along your length only makes you more impatient. Finally, you hook your fingers on the garter of her pajama bottoms, and she lifts her hips to accommodate you. The fabric slides off her so easily, revealing her long, smooth legs that she seems desperate to have you in between of. 

“Go easy, okay? I told you…” 

“Yeah, your first time. I'll take care of you,” you reassure her. Line up your throbbing cock against her slick heat, feel her palm on your cheek, watch her flash that killer smile again. She bites her lip, and while you know it isn't on purpose, it makes her look sexier all the same. 

Slide your cock into her, making sure to go slow. She shuts her eyes harder with every inch she takes of you, and when she moves her hands to your forearms and grips tight, it reminds you like a looping cycle: “Go easy, go easy.”

So you go slow and steady, staving off your lust for the woman giving herself to you. Each thrust into her sex is careful and calculated, though by the second you feel your calculations going awry. She pants at every good spot in her cavern you happen to drag across, earning her little admissions of newly found pleasure in the form of mewls and moans like a song you’d never tire of. 

“Faster, please…? You’re so–ugh, fuck…” And the way she pleads flips a switch in you; plant your elbows into the memory foam on either side of her head while she takes your face in her hands. Yubin pulls you in for a kiss and it means the world to her when you grow careless with your lovemaking.

“Fuck, fuck, not too fast, just right, mmm,” each time you push into her cunt. The way she mumbles sweet nothings into your ear, the way she holds on for dear life and leaves scratches all the way down your back, she takes up every single thought going through your head: Yubin, Yubin, Yubin…

You scarcely notice how she's scratching your harder, gripping you tighter, grinding against you faster–it’s much too late to finally hear her warning, “I'm close, I'm close, oh fuck, fuck, aaahhhh!” as she explodes with you still inside her. Her pussy clenches around your cock in all the best ways, and you savor the feeling as she rides out her orgasm. Her knuckles turn white as she grips you by the shoulders, though all you can see is how her tits bounce with every jerk that runs through her body. Yubin's eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth hangs open, a prolonged, deep moan gracing your ears as she ambles closer and closer to spent. 

Take a moment, let her breathe. Every gasp of air in her lungs is like a blessing, and each one steadily brings her from beyond heaven back to you. Her hands fall to her sides as she pants out her delirium and replaces it with tiredness, and once she's stable she flashes you that killer smile again. It pulls on the corners of her mouth, showing the tiniest amount of teeth, though her eyes are nowhere near open. Plant a kiss on her cheek, then her neck, then receive her giggles once you stay and rest right on her pulse. 

“You good? Still alive?”

All she can do is nod, having had every last ounce of her strength sapped. She lays motionless under you, save for her chest rising and falling with her breathing, and you know she looks to you for comfort and security. You take another moment to bask in her afterglow; she's never looked more gorgeous. 

“Hey,” she whispers, and you swear it's the most tired you've ever heard her, or anyone for that matter. “You good?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. Are you sure you're good?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” She pulls you back down and plants a kiss on your cheek. Her lips linger for a second, as if she's taking in your scent made hers. You stay like this for a good while, just enjoying each other's presence, relishing in the warmth of a body that gave itself up for the other. You don't even notice when you slumped over onto the mattress beside her, but her head on your chest felt like the rightest thing in the world.

“We're not done, by the way,” she prods.

“What? Why not? Aren't you tired?”

“‘Tired’ isn't part of the bet. I still want that tribute.”

And you remember, you have a job to do, a debt to pay. It’s between your common sense and your lust for the hottest girl in the world right now, and there is a clear winner. 

Pull back from her, off of the bed, and plant your feet on the floor. Firm and resolute, tell her: “Fine, on your knees.” The flush on her face deepens to an igneous red, and she scrambles to the floor in front of you.

“You're so pretty, Yubin,” you muse as you point her camera back to her face. Make sure the flash is off, and once you push the big red button to record, your other hand immediately takes her cheek and guides her to your tip. 

Yubin's eyes flutter shut as she inches her lips closer and closer to your cock. The first contact is heavenly; just gentle kisses and licks from a complete novice pretending to be an expert at this sort of stuff. The way her tongue glides over your shaft, the way she plants kisses all over your cock with the tiniest sucks, the way she does all of this with her eyes gracefully shut makes for a killer video for her to get off to later. A blowjob from a girl like this comes once in a lifetime, so you resolve to give her everything she'd ever want from a tribute like this. 

A moan escapes you, and she picks up that she's doing it right. With your subconscious approval, the hand on her cheek pulling further her in, she takes your tip in her mouth. Her tongue works overtime in running all over the head, paying special attention to your slit, making absolutely sure her spit coats wherever she can reach. She takes in more and more of your shaft, pressing her tongue on the underside of your cock as she does, all the while her cheeks hollow out like her life depends on it. 

Tiny vibrations from her throat only add to the pleasure, sending shivers up your spine and your hand to the back of her head. For the first time, she opens her eyes, and the sight is something to behold: she looks up at you with the biggest, roundest, most pleading eyes, the epitome of cuteness if not for your cock she oh-so-diligently services to get what she wants. 

Yubin takes you in just a bit deeper, slightly turning her head and savoring the way your length fills her mouth, when you hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag. She pulls back abruptly as a tear forms in the corner of her eye, and you have half a mind to pull out entirely to make sure she's okay. Instead, she never lets you–she takes your cock again, shooting you another pleading look before she shuts her eyes and bobs her head onto your cock again and again. 

Luckily, you pick up on her message; Snake your fingers through her hair, grab a fistful, make her yours. A moan rises from her throat once again, and she steadies herself with her hands on your thighs in preparation. She's ready. 

Pull her in as far as she can take, and it's a good most of your shaft before she gags again. Offer her no breathing room, bob her head onto your cock over and over, all the while more of her slobber coats your length, some of it falling off her lips and onto her chest and lap. She never fights, only takes–soon the gagging is replaced by an obedient, rhythmic gluck-gluck-gluck than you're sure even she'd find hot if she could think straight. Instead, her phone picks up every sight and sound for her to enjoy later, while you both enjoy each other now. 

It's everything all at once: the sight of Gong Yubin's plump, sexy lips around your shaft, the feeling of her tongue relentlessly dragging over every inch of your cock, the sound of your tip meeting her throat again and again while her groans fight their way out. “Yubin… I'm close,” you confess, but with her eyes still shut and her tongue still going crazy all over you, you don't think she heard. So make the decision yourself: yank her hard off your cock, rub your shaft right against her delicious lips. Once she exits her daze, she takes your dick in her hand and rubs all across the length. Tears fall from the corner of her eyes and her lips give off the slightest tremble, but she's resolute in what she wants to earn from you. 

It takes no time at all until you reach your limit. It's the best handjob anyone has ever probably given, but it's that one last kiss from her, right on your tip, that sends you over the edge. One last groan, one last jerk, one last tug of her hair, and your orgasm hits. Your cum shoots out in ropes, all landing on her face and tits. She's determined to receive everything from you, so it's only right to give her exactly what she wants. She shuts her eyes again, but her mouth stays wide open to catch whatever she can of it–she never stops jerking you off even as your cum falls onto her eyelids, her nose bridge, her forehead, her chin. Yubin savors every moment and every drop, burning the memory of bliss into her mind as you coat her face with your love. 

Your orgasm finally dies down, and you realize just how much she squeezed out of you. You're sure no one has ever looked lewder, your cum smeared all over her face, yet she proves you wrong when she picks up a fingerful of it to take into her mouth. She licks her lips, apparently loving the taste, while you love the sight of her acting so sultry for you. 

Stumble back onto the bed, take Yubin with you. Both of you are out of strength, breathing heavy, and in the middle of processing that you just painted her face with cum–that she asked you to paint her face with cum. You barely notice the stars swirling in your eyes, but your sense of the situation comes back just quick enough to avoid things getting awkward. 

“I think I wanna shower, so you should wash up first,” you mumble, still staring at her beige ceiling, and you can feel she's panting and doing the same without even seeing her. 

Wordlessly she gets up and her carpet-muffled footsteps grow quieter as she heads to the bathroom. A door shuts, a handle creaks, a shower gushes to life. Your brain sits idle, making no attempts to form thoughts other than acknowledging the shower turning off and on while she bathes. It's calming in its own way, you suppose–taking a bath is one of the normalest things in the world–as if what you just did with her was a close runner-up. 

An unknowable amount of time passes, and a fresh, citrus-scented Yubin emerges from the bathroom again. She dries her hair with her towel as she makes her way to her hair blower, but not before shooting you a gorgeous smile and a head tilt to the bathroom to let you know it's your turn. 

~~~

Leaving the bathroom yourself, you find a dark bedroom, save only for a yellow lamp shining against a nearby wall. Yubin is sitting up in her bed and scrolling on her phone, and once she spots you, she beckons you over.

“Look, funny,” she whispers with a giggle, and she shows you a clip of a guy much too excited about a truck looking like Optimus Prime. 

“Yeah. Hey, listen, I'm pretty tired,” you attempt. In no way is this a lie, and you're sure she's tired too. You bet she wants nothing more than to finally go to sleep and end what should be a perfect night on a high note. 

“Totally,” she agrees, “come on in. It's cold.” She lifts up the covers and looks over to you expectantly. Not that it dumbfounds you, but it throws you for a slight loop; she literally just said it was cold. 

“Wh– I'm heading out, is what I mean. You should get your rest, too.”

Yubin's eyes take on a softer expression, “Oh, you're not staying over?”

“... Did you want me to?”

“Yeah…?”

Your eyes lock with hers for what seems like half a second and a million hours at the same time. You're stuck in place, still in a stalemate of a staring contest with her, and you're not sure even she knows what the two of you want out of the situation. Her expression turns into one of concern, and her arm holding up the covers falters just a bit. Fuck, you think, window's closing.

Make your choice, have no regrets. Get in the covers with her, and she lets them drop to snuggle up to you. Once the both of you settle, her head on your chest and yours on one of the fluffiest pillows in the world, she blurts out quietly: “You fucked up, you know.”

She navigates to her gallery and finds your video of her, and skips to a part near the end. “Your dumb ass stopped recording just as you were about to cum.” And the video did show that: Yubin rubbing your cock, eyes shut, tongue out and ready for your load, and the video stops. 

“Shit, sorry–” 

“This wasn't the bet. I wanted a cum tribute, not a facial. You need to send me a proper one,” she muses, “or take a proper video.”

Now that stuns you. You wonder how interesting her ceiling is for you to stare at it so much, but she snaps you out of it partway through by snaking a hand up your shirt and settling it right above your heart. Reciprocate–it only feels right–wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her even closer. An exhale from both of you, and one last exchange of words: 

“Okay. Tomorrow?”

“Can you go again that soon?”

“If it's you, of course.”

“Don't guys need to recharge?”

“... I'll handle it.”

~~~

[hxzbinwrites]

Idk if you do headcanons or one shots but either or will be fine:

Can I pretty please get a Vox x Emotionless! Reader?

Plot can be whatever you want but just to (hopefully) give some ideas… maybe Vox had no interest in Reader but then uh oh she smiled! Now Vox has a crush (°▽°)

But yeah lol thank you!! Have a good day!

Vox x Emotionless! Reader | Lovestruck Fool |

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Vox is a horrible boss

10:00am

(Y/n) walked into Vox’s office, holding an folder with today’s date and Vox’s name on it.

“Mr. Vox.” She said, her dead eyes watching her boss turn around in his excessively large chair.

“Hm, what is it (Y/n)?” He said, giving her a single glance before turning back to his monitors

“You have three meetings today sir. 1:00pm with Velvette in her portion of the tower. 2:30pm with Valentino in the main conference room, and someone scheduled a 4:00 with you, a Mr. Alastor? Called in today for an urgent meeting.”

Vox slammed his hands down on the desk, his face glitching in seething anger. “THAT PRICK!! CALL BACK AND TELL HIM I WILL NOT BE ATTENDING ANY SORT OF MEETING WITH HIM!!”

“He called from a public telephone sir, I can’t trace the caller ID.” (Y/n) said, clearly unfazed by his temper tantrum.

“DAMN IT!” He said, punching a smaller monitor on his right,”DONT YOU EVER LET HIM SCHEDULE ANOTHER MEETING WITH ME OR VOXTECH EVER AGAIN!!!”

Vox turned around, pointing one of his clawed fingers in your deadpanned face.

“Okay sir, is that all?”

“UGH!!” He said, clenching his fists to his side,”WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?? IM AN OVERLORD, I AM THE VOX, YOU SHOULD BE QUIVERING IN FEAR!! IM YELLING MY HEAD OFF AT YOU AND YOU CANT EVEN FORM AN EXPRESSION?? ARE YOU BRAINDEAD??”

(Y/n) slowly blinks, before looking down and rummaging through the folder she still held. “Ah, I almost forgot. Mr. Alastor requested his meeting also in the main conference room. If you need another reminder about your meetings today just call me-“

She was cut off once more by Vox, screaming and yelling, throwing things hazardously across the room. “JUST LEAVE.”

“Alright sir.” (Y/n) said, immediately turning away and walking towards the door.

————

4:45pm

(Y/n) was at her desk, taking calls and rearranging Vox’s schedule for tomorrow when her work phone buzzed.

“Hello? This is (Y/n) with Voxtech. How may I-“

“(Y/n). My office. Now.”

“Sir? This isn’t your work phone number? How can I be sure that this is-“

“MY OFFICE. NOW.”

(Y/n) could hear his voice glitching over the phone before she hung up, and briskly made her way to the door of his office.

She walked in to his Vox in his obnoxiously large chair, his hands covering his screen as he sighed in exhaustion.

“Ah, sir. You called me?”

“Yes (Y/n). I have installed safety features into your desk. Don’t except meetings from Alastor. If he comes in here, press the button under your monitor. He is NEVER allowed in this building.”

“Okay sir.” She said, making a note of that on her smartwatch,”Will that be all?”

“Can you get me a coffee…?”

“Right away sir.”

————

5:00pm

“Here’s your coffee sir.” (Y/n) said, setting it in his outreached hand.

“Thank you (Y/n)” He said, taking a single sip before doing a spit take. On one of the monitors around the city, it showed Velvette and Alastor chatting to one another.

“WHAT?!?” Vox yelled, being as “careful” as he usually is, his coffee flies into the air before landing on his shirt. He hissed in pain at the hit liquid, scrambling around before tripping on the various wires around his monitor setup (that was replaced after his previous temper tantrum) and landing on his ass.

Vox looked up in shock to see (Y/n) covering half of her mouth, revealing a smile. Tears brimmed her eyes as she tried to respectfully hold in her laughter.

Vox’s face felt red hot. Out of embarrassment and admiration. Why didn’t she smile more? Oh that smile, if she could remove her hand it would reveal its full glory. Let him soak it in. Her eyes filled with life and laughter. Has she always been this….beautiful? Yes, I think she has. She has indeed.

She let out a little snort before regaining her composure, before crouching down in front of him, taking the napkins provided with the coffee, and starting to wipe off as much of the liquid as possible. He felt her delicate hands rub across his chest. He hope she didn’t feel his erratic heartbeat.

He wanted this. He’s yearned for this and he didn’t even know it. Vox’s breathing became as erratic as his heartbeat, almost in sync. He felt sweat starting to drip, wether it be from the hot coffee adorning his now ruined shirt or from the stunning woman and her hands on his chest.

Trying to get as much as she could, (Y/n) scooted even closer, not realizing her hips were hovering right over his. Vox’s mind was running wild, his screen glitching and flicking between different error signals. His hands floating near the handles of her hips. Taking a gulp, he almost put his hands on her skin. Almost. He ended up just leaving his hands there, leaving a ghostly stabilization to the assistant who was cleaning him up like a toddler who spilt his apple juice.

(Y/n) looked up at Vox’s eyes, their eyes locking onto one another. A small smile could be faintly seen across her lips before it went back to its neutral state.

She helped him to his feet, her soft hands gently pulling on his clawed ones, slowly helping him to his feet. Handing him the remaining napkins. “I’ll schedule a trip to the dry cleaners. Does 3:45 tomorrow work well for you?”

Vox sat back down, his eyes wide in shock from what just happened. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I don’t care.”

“Alright sir, I’ll get that done, and then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

(Y/n) walked out, the door closing behind her. Leaving the room back in it’s inky black darkness, with the exception of the glowing monitors.

Vox looked at his reflection in the main monitor. He could see his goofy smile. His blush adorning his cheeks. His eyes lighting up like a child who knows no sin. He looked like what he was, a lovestruck fool. A lovestruck fool for his assistant.

————

Word Count: 1006

(sorry it’s so short, i’m trying to get as many requests done as i can 😭)

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car au, pt 6

The next part is fighting me a bit, so I will just post this one for now.

Previous

Duke reeeaalllyyy does not get paid enough for this.

Good news, he was able to get the names of the dealers and suppliers and also narrowed down the places of interest to three warehouses. All he had to do was drop that info onto the server for the night crew, and that was that, not his problem anymore.

Bad news, the car is becoming his problem.

When Duke entered the cave, he could see the wheels turning, and not in a sick burnout way Jason does anytime he gets behind the wheel, they were just turning left and right. Then to add more insult to Duke's attempt at ignoring it, the car opened its driver door in what may have been a mockery of a greeting. Honestly, Duke could have also ignored that but then it seemed to fucking Panic and set off its own alarms and proceed to flail all the doors open and reverse to the point that the back wheels made it off the platform and into the gutter that runs though the cave. If Duke was a betting man, and he was, he would bet that whatever possessed or replaced the Batmobile was so incompetent that he had to worry more about Its safety from the Batfam. Whether that was protection from arrest or adoption is still up in the air.

Either way, this is becoming Duke's problem. He is really not paid enough for this. Time to calm down a sentient car.

“Hey, car buddy? You ok?”

Duke wasn't sure what he was expecting when he was talking to a car of all things, but absolute silence wasn’t it. Was this thing going to try to play car now? After everything that just happened? Duke slowly walked up to the driver's side door and looked in for the green blob person, only to see them in the back seat sprawled out. Duke tried to not think too hard while putting the car back in its spot, but the list of facts he has so far kept ticking.

1. The Batmobile has a new passenger or has been replaced

2. The thing/person is not good at hiding, so probably not a villain plot

2a. If it is a villain plot, they got the absolutely wrong person to do it

2aa. Possible meta forced to spy?

3. The person just freaked out so hard they fainted after setting off the Batmobile alarms.

4. Alfred will know what to do right?

5. Try to communicate again with the person in the car.

It didn't take long for the blur on the backseat to shift again. Luckily they didn't immediately jump into the driver's seat, where Duke still sat. Duke turned to look in the backseat, time to start this interrogation.

“Hey, you ok?” Duke was happy that he was able to see the head nod that the fuzzy blur gave.

“That's good. Now, I can't see you too well, but we can work out some basic questions, alright?” Another head nod answered him.

"Are you in danger? Like, did someone force you to do this?” The head shake that was produced shook the car. Duke internally sighed in relief, not a villain plot or meta trafficking gone wrong.

“So this was just an accident, and I am guessing you are now stuck?” Duke knew he was not as good at body language reading as the others, but the wave of embarrassment and resignation this blob was giving off confirmed that whoever/whatever this is, was not a total threat.

Next?

As usual tag list!

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @atinygracie

[elodieunderglass]

Are there any trans characters in the Killieverse? Obviously, there’s a good selection of queer ones, including the titular jockey, but, just off the top of my head, I can’t think of any trans ones.

There’s a little bit of background activity -

Derek has a trans mother. His lesbian mothers are his biological parents, and she came out in his childhood. He inherited early baldness from her, but she decided to do a whole shaven-head butch thing with it. This is part of the general chillness of Derek’s mental landscape. (So he went bald early. So did his mom. It’s whatever.)

Miles is a bit GNC, in a baby Gen Alpha way. I think a lot of that cohort of kids are going to have their Own Thing about it.

BUT

Apologies for the quantum fucking nature of this response

in the quantum state we operate in, which is regrettably defined by the fact that I didn’t think about writing a book until five minutes ago, nobody major to the plot is currently trans.

However, this is the plan.

Throw Your Heart Over - a messed-up family falls apart. Lots of horses run in circles. Being very brave about it, a guy recovers his twin. (Probably about 10 chapters. Will require paid Irish, racetrack and horse behaviour accuracy readers, to be paid up-front. Was thinking of writing it and selling it to try to recover cost of paying various helpers.)

The Straight and Narrow - a messed-up guy flails around. Has narrowboats in it. (Will require Irish and Scottish dialogue readers, but much less work for them, and should be be cheap enough to produce. Thus, while possibly less interesting to the audience that wants to see Killie making a tit of himself, it could generate enough money to pay in advance for…)

Run for the Roses (working title) - idiot twins meet nerds while becoming Embroiled in situations. Killie gets taken out back and beaten up by the twin wolves of his demisexuality and bisexuality, whom he’s managed to avoid this far, but to his own disgust, he has to not only meet but master them, because he unfortunately met them at the same time as The Best Human In the World and he’s in love. (Will require Jewish accuracy reader, Irish dialogue reader and some form of RPG-knowing person.)

The Blood Always Comes Through (Heirs Above the Ground) - the horse dynasty has to deal with itself eventually, including such exciting set pieces as meeting Derek’s parents, forcibly rebooting Charlie’s horsegirl powers, Miles (could unpack to be a Whole Fucking Thing), several horse dynasty fights and showdowns, What The Hell That Murder Bill Did Was About, Killie’s gay wedding, and possibly a trans character. (Absolute carnage. Will need every sort of sensitivity and accuracy reader on the books. May never get to this one. Could be two books tbh.)

^^ I’d like to have a trans character come out during that one!! but I’d like it to be a bit of a surprise.

So unfortunately the answer is NO. But WATCH OUT.

If a SPECIFIC SERIES OF EVENTS unfurls to the point where I can produce four books, with ideally paying for the help needed for the next, there IS a trans named character.

So like, yes but also no.

But in a way that hopefully makes sense. There aren’t many reveals I’m specifically protecting but I feel like I gotta leave something worth paying money for (since I need the money for the next team of editors.)

And of course we can all headcanon whatever at any time. I think the merfolk in the mermaid AU should all be intersex on a level we can’t even comprehend, while still referring to themselves as the default/normal humans, and with everything happening on land having a qualifier (Air Gulls, Air Plants, Land Meat.) and the merfolk should, like, refer to land humans having things like Land Penises. This is very funny to me

[amywritesthings]

happy birthday, levi. / part one.

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) word count: 2.7k summary: It's your first Christmas with the whole Underground gang -- but you didn't realize the date shares significance to someone's birthday.

rated teen // pre-aot, the underground gang are teens, explicit language, baking, eating food, unresolved romantic tension, lots of yearning, fluffy found family vibes for the holiday

note: set in the universe silver underground during flashback two credit: dividers by @/saradika-graphics; thank you to @nube55 for sending me this prompt for the SU anniversary! part of: #leviweek24 / @levievent (day one: birthday)

part two coming soon.

Christmas Eve.

Although you have never celebrated the holidays before, it isn’t as if you’ve never wanted to celebrate them. Mother had no interest in spending her booze money on her adoptive children, and most of the people residing in the Underground don’t have the coin in general for the festivities they partake in on the surface.

Lost in your own thoughts, it takes a few seconds for you to realize you have company: Furlan and Isabel slide up to your scrubbing station at the kitchen sink sporting twin smirks, one on either side.

(You swear they operate on the same unearthly wavelength.)

“Whatever it is you’re planning,” you start with a pointed look to Furlan, “Levi is going to say no.”

“What makes you so sure we’re going to tell him?” chimes Isabel, catching your interest.

When your turn your attention to her, the ginger-haired girl grins proud and wide.

You’re not convinced.

“So you two want to double your chores?”

“Why would he double them?” Furlan snorts, taking a finished plate from your hands to towel-dry it off.

“If I feign innocence to whatever plot you’re hatching, then he’ll give both of you—” You use a clean fork to gesture it between the conspiring friends. “—not only his duties, but mine.”

Isabel deflates a fraction of an inch.

“Damn, she’s right.”

“Still,” Furlan presses on, “you should hear us out, because there’s something you don’t know about tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Your brow furrows. “You mean Christmas? I know what Christmas is, Church.”

“No!” Furlan groans, head bent back to the ceiling. “Ugh, c’mon, James. We all know Christmas is tomorrow—”

“—but so is a certain someone’s birthday,” interrupts Isabel.

Wait.

Low and conspiratorial, you voice the point they’ve been hinting at since they double-teamed this conversation at the kitchen sink:

“...Levi’s birthday is on Christmas?”

“A-yup.” Isabel crosses her arms, leaning against the counter. “And he doesn’t ever tell anyone about it, so this is a biggie.”

“Then how’d you know?”

“Because Furlan told me.”

“But we didn’t celebrate it last year,” you argue. “Before we found Isa, I mean.”

(How has it already been a year since you’ve been living with the boys, and six months since Isabel Magnolia joined the crew?)

“Well, technically I only found out this year because Levi kinda mumbled in his sleep once, and I put two and two together,” Furlan quickly explains, palms held up in surrender, “but he never mentioned it any of the other years before when I met ‘em.”

Granted, you barely remember your own birthday sometimes, but the idea of a holiday overshadowing Levi’s birthday feels… sad. 

There is already so little in the Underground to celebrate, but Levi is an exception; always has, always will be for you.

Giving the newly-clean fork to Furlan to towel off, you take a step back to view them both.

“I’m in.”

“Huh?”

“Really?!”

Isabel catches what you’re saying well before Furlan does — unsurprisingly. Although the young girl shares a bond with Furlan, the two of you have your own secret language.

(A found sister you’d always wanted.)

“We have plenty of time to make a small cake before he comes home,” you add, rounding them to begin looking around the shelves to take inventory.

Although ingredients for baking in the Underground are scarce and few, the score from last week’s heist can be your solution to a few deals with some of the surface-dwellers lurking with luxury goods. 

“Fur, mind running to the market? You can use some of my earnings if flour costs extra this year.”

“No need, sis, we got ya,” Isabel chirps as she bounces over to the door, saluting you.

Furlan meets your gaze and nods once, saluting as a joke to match Isabel, before disappearing.

The small apartment is silent once more, leaving you to stir in this newfound information about Levi Ackerman.

There’s so much you still don’t know about the teen, his personal life locked tight with an impossible key. 

If Furlan’s wrong, then it’ll be one hell of an awkward surprise.

If he’s right?

Your attention trails to your shared bedroom with Isabel, mindful of the bag of tea you’d stolen in last week’s heist. There hasn’t been a time or place to tell Levi that you swiped goods from somebody on the surface, risking your own neck for something as precious as leaves.

(But they mattered to him, so you didn’t think twice.)

With a sharp inhale, you place your hands on your hips and nod to yourself.

“A birthday cake,” you say to no one, hyping yourself up for the challenge. “It’s a damn cake, how hard can it possibly be?”

.

.

.

.

.

The answer appears to be incredibly hard.

“You’re not doing it right.”

“What?”

“I said you’re not doing it right, bro!”

“I know how to sift flour, Isabel!”

“Not well, apparently!”

“Children,” you call to your helpers at the old dining room table, “I know they say baking is a science, but I need you to be less critical and more — y’know, efficient, before he gets home.”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Furlan calls, holding out a bowl to you. “Flour, salts, and all the whatever stuff is ready for you.”

You take it off of his hands and add the mixture, trying to eyeball the mix. 

Granted, you’re no baker yourself — you’re barely a cook on your regular days, left only to observe and learn by what Levi’s taught you since moving into his apartment — but you’re trying your damnedest anyway.

Once the rectangular pan is in the oven, you drop the mittens onto the counter and wipe the sweat off of your brow. 

Is it the most amazing cake? 

Probably not.

Should it have taken three people to make? 

Definitely not.

Yet the three of you worked hard to produce it.

“When is he supposed to come home?” Isabel adds, flopping down on the couch with a grunt.

“He said by nightfall,” you tell them both, remembering your brief conversation from this morning’s spar. “So we have some time.”

Furlan hangs his apron (see: Levi’s) against the back of a wooden chair and drops down to the couch beside Isabel, his head lying back. 

“How come he always tells you where he’s going, but not me?”

You don’t have an answer.

Furlan is right: Levi always leaves his plans in the palm of your hands, his whereabouts unknown to the rest of the world, but you aren’t sure why.

In hindsight he should be trusting the person he’s known the longest, and yet—

Just because Levi endorsed you.

The words that Furlan spoke when he first revealed the ODM gear to you, though it was dropped before you could ever get clarification.

Levi wanted you here, after all these years.

He trusted your word, your opinion, your view.

And you still don’t know why.

(You would be a liar if you said you didn’t feel the same magnetic pull, unspoken and unmatched.)

“Watch the cake, will you?” you ask the two as you disappear into the bedroom, closing the door to a crack behind you.

You move to the tiny nightstand by your bedside, rummaging through the bottom drawer to find it: the loose tea leaves hidden away, smelling delightfully fresh. 

Gingerly you hold it in the palm of your hands, wondering—

Will he be angry if he finds out you swiped this?

Would it supersede the fact that you stole them just for him?

(A cake baked by three idiots is already a stretch for someone who doesn’t tell people about their birthday, but will a personal gift cross the line?)

Your hand curls around the bag to gently conceal it in the pocket of your worn jacket, making a decision.

It’s almost Christmas.

You’ll take your chances.

.

.

.

.

.

The second the raven-haired boy steps into the apartment, you can tell he’s on high alert.

Maybe it’s the way Isabel looks as if she’s about to burst at the seams, overtly excited for the surprise hiding behind her back.

Maybe it’s the way Furlan bends at the hip, awkwardly pressing a hand on the chair behind Isabel’s back to complete the human shield hiding your amateur birthday cake on the table.

Regardless, his eyes flicker to them directly to yours, asking wordlessly:

What’s going on?

You shake your head, albeit lightly.

It’s fine.

The furrow in his brow only decreases by a centimeter before his stern gaze returns to the wonder twins all but bursting at the seams with their giggles and snickers.

“What shit did I walk into?” he bluntly asks them.

Furlan takes the lead, playing the much-too-cool cop in this situation.

“Well, ya know — it’s Christmas Eve and all—”

“Obviously,” Levi flatly interrupts.

“—and you have been busting your ass and stuff on this next job of ours—”

“This feels like a very poor proposal,” he interrupts again.

“—and because of—”

Isabel, unable to help herself, bursts out with her arms high over her head:

“Happy birthday, bro!”

Silence.

Pure.

Agonizing.

Silence.

Levi’s eyes find yours once more, brows raised with intrigue. There are multiple questions in his eyes, some you aren’t quite catching, but you know he’s biting his tongue.

Mad, maybe not, but uncomfortable? Yeah.

You tilt your head as if to apologize, unable to provide much solace, only to walk to the table for the big reveal. 

Picking up the little chocolate cake from behind Isabel and Furlan, you carefully hold the tray as you walk across the apartment right to him at the door.

“Technically Furlan told us it was tomorrow,” you start as if you’re trying not to scare a feral cat, “but we wanted to make sure you could celebrate it.”

“And you wouldn’t be out of the house tomorrow,” Furlan chimes in, and you can’t help but roll your eyes when you’re out of his line of sight.

That gets an imperceptible smile to twitch at the corner of Levi’s lips.

“That, too,” you concede.

Holding up the cake with the singular burning candle, your eyes search his for his thoughts, feelings, emotions — if he hates it, if he’s angry at the three of you for conspiring, if —

“I didn’t know Furlan knew my birthday,” is all he responds, staring at the cake.

Even if he’s subtle about it, the flicker of the flame before him illuminates a different story.

He’s… shocked.

Stuck staring at the flame, the dark-haired teen seems to be committing the sight to memory.

So are you.

“You’re supposed to make a wish and blow the candle out,” you murmur, catching his attention. ”I don’t make the rules.”

His stormy eyes glance up at you, taking a pause.

(A moment, it seems, for the two of you.)

“Any?” the sixteen year-old asks under his breath.

You nod.

He nods back, eyes still on you, before reaching for the cake. He pinches the flame between his thumb and index finger, snuffing out the flame instantly.

Your eyes shoot wide. “Levi—”

“Blowing on it is fucking disgusting,” he chimes, before craning his neck so he can look at Furlan and Isabel waiting behind you. “You mouth breathers didn’t get any of your germs on this thing, right?”

Isabel cackles while Furlan makes short, choked noises of indignance.

“Hey, I didn’t get my damn germs on it!”

“Just checking,” he replies casually, but a ghost of a smile passes over his lips. His head tilts quickly to the right, signalling the two of you should join them.

(The tea leaves feel heavy in your jacket pocket.)

Walking the cake back to the table, Isabel jumps at the ready to cut up slices, all too eager to serve the birthday boy and talk his ear off about the many adventures they’d taken as a trio to pull this off. You give her the floor, too busy watching Levi in the moment.

Was this really his first cake?

Granted, you’ve never had a cake yourself, much less a birthday present, but…

The concept of celebrating something — anything — among the four of you hits your in the belly, hard.

You want to celebrate. You want to take the perceived little things and make them grandiose, with the time that’s been gifted to you.

You’re only sixteen, but you know.

Time is precious.

(And so is he.)

Observing the group as they dive into their slices of chocolate cake — thank the heavens they’re not only edible, but delicious — you wait for clean-up duty to begin in order to tap Levi’s billowing white sleeve draped across the empty chair beside him.

The raven-haired boy looks up at you, his full attention solely on you.

“You alright?”

You nod, even if your palms are sweating.

“I noticed you baked the damn thing but didn’t have a slice,” he adds simply. “Allergic to chocolate cake or something?”

“I’ll have some later,” you promise, shifting from one foot to another. “Could we… talk?”

Immediately his brow furrows.

Concern.

You wave it off. “It’s nothing bad. Swear.”

“Is it a second cake?” he tries to joke, deadpan in its delivery, but he stands nonetheless.

You snort, stepping away to walk him to your bedroom for privacy. 

Isabel and Furlan are too busy fighting over who cleans and who dries. 

This is your window.

Levi follows, his forearm resting on the doorframe for a second as he looks you over, trying to understand where this is going. His eyes narrow, contemplating, before walking in after you.

“It isn’t like you to be cagey.”

“Yeah, well, this is something just from me.”

The words cause your body to scorch with embarrassment. Sentiment isn’t in your vocabulary. You’ve known him for over a year now, closer to two years, yet—

This feels strangely intimate.

Especially now that his narrowed gaze smooths and softens, understanding.

Before he can say anything more, you shove your hand into your pocket to fish out the bag and hold it out to him, jaw clenched.

You should say happy birthday, but you can’t.

Hell, you can’t say much of anything as you wait.

Levi drops his chin, pausing, before he nears. “Is that…”

“They’re fresh,” you interrupt in a blurt.

“James.”

Shit.

He sounds upset.

“I know, but I was discreet,” you attempt to explain. “It was in someone’s pocket during the heist and — and I know we don’t steal from anyone beyond the MPs, but this was one of those shitty surface-dwelling assholes that try to market and outprice us.”

His hand freezes over the bag, hovering. Swallowing your fear, you gesture once more with your open palm for him to take the bag.

“I don’t regret it.”

That causes him to flicker his widening eyes from the bag to you.

“Do you know how expensive—”

“I don’t fucking care, Levi,” you exhale, relieved to finally confess it. “It’s almost your birthday. It’s Christmas Eve. I… I think you deserve it more than anyone, surface or underground.”

Silence befalls the room once more.

He seems to struggle with the concept of deserving much of anything — always has — before he gingerly relieves your palm of the bag to bring it towards his chest.

Levi stares down at it with wonder, turning the bag and feeling its weight in his hand. 

To your surprise his head dips, taking a brief sniff of the leaves and basking in the aroma.

“...thank you, James.”

His voice is softer, this time.

A bewildered whisper.

It squeezes your heart and makes it grow twice its size.

In the darkness of your bedroom, you finally find the strength to say the words, loaded with a gratitude you can never repay.

The boy you met so long ago in a flurry of fists; the teen who offered a hand of refuge and a promise to never go back to a life of anguish and pain; the person who’s defined you — this James, in this life — for the better and never for the worse.

You hope a gift in the dark, a cake baked by three, and a wish can convey it all.

“Happy birthday, Levi.”

And many more, with me right by your side.

author's note: i know i've disappeared for the past month, but i wanted to give at least a little present to my readers past and present for sticking by me in 2024. this is a two-part birthday series. the second part (also set on levi's birthday) will be posted at some point after christmas since i'm super busy with family and friends tomorrow.

merry christmas, friends. thank you for your support and kind words. i'm so grateful for the memories we've shared in 2024, and i hope that i can keep posting my pride and joy into 2025. 🤍

[barleyo]

Build-A-Bride.

Enji Todoroki X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: i can't stop writing broken enji... he's so depressed and lonely i LOVE it ^_^ isn't he just so dreamy? all downtrodden and sad? anyways this is so half-assed, sorry!

Tags: dub-con, forced/arranged marriage (sort of), age gap, mostly plot tbh (minimal smut), brief mentions of dehumanization, breeding, creampie, p in v, size difference, language barrier

Wordcount: 1.8k

Women don't like divorcés. It's a mark of failure. It brings down one's stock value. Enji's mistakes with Rei were numerous. He knew it was for the best, that he had nothing to fight for when she had the papers mailed to him. Why would he argue with her about it? The kids had all grown up and moved out. Their assets were easily separable. She did not ask for much in the split, and even if she did Enji would have given it up without pushing back. 

He was a man defeated. What point would there be in chasing after Rei again? He did not love her; not truly, at least, and she certainly did not love him. They had been living stagnantly ever since she was released from the hospital. It would be a feat for them to even speak to each other over breakfast. Idle chat about the weather or what their adult children were doing was a rare treat. 

Enji's life had slowed significantly. No children to fill his too-big-for-one-man house and no woman to be kept company by. Work had slowed down. Younger heroes took the top spots, slowly but surely. Even his own son was predicted to soon surpass him. Old timers, or "Golden-Age Heroes", as the media titled them, were losing fame and fortune alike. No longer the hot commodity, old was out, new was in.

He expected it, really. His goal was to be the number one hero, and he was for a while. Was it his dream to remain number one? He didn't have time to think about it before he got knocked down to a measly third place in the ranks. 

He had thrown so much of himself into the hero life. It crossed his mind a few times, it all ending, but he never realized that it would come crashing down so soon. What friends he had, using the term very lightly, were less than helpful in his condition. 

None less so than Hawks, of course. That damned fool.

Keigo had been dragging Enji out to these annoyingly quaint cafés for a while now. He'd force piles of biscotti and scones onto Enji's plate while blabbing on about some new excursion of his or the other, taking up the prime hours of Enji's day in the name of socializing. 

Seldom it was that Enji left the impromptu meet-ups with anything but slight annoyance at best and utter exhaustion at worst. He could hardly pay attention to the meaningless drivel Keigo threw his way. Sometimes it was talk of the current hero ranks, which Enji immediately tuned out. Other times it was about a concert or movie Keigo was going to. 

Lately, though, Keigo had an interest in trying to play matchmaker for Enji. 

"You should really get out there," he said, smug little smile plastered on his cheeky face while he sipped his espresso. "You aren't getting younger."

Enji's response was the same as always, in that he was too busy and too old to be worrying about such things. "I do not have time to woo a woman like a schoolboy. I'm fine where I am," he responded with his arms resting on the café's comparably small table. 

Keigo chuckled, curling his lips upwards. "You can only spend so many nights with your right hand, Endeavor."

"Shut your damned mouth."

"If you won't let me set you up with someone," Keigo said, not taking Enji's gruff tone seriously, as usual, "there is another option."

Enji pressed his mouth closed tightly, eyes narrowing into a judgmental squint. "It had better not be online dating."

Defensive hands flew up. "No, no. You've made that pretty clear, man. I'm talking about getting, like, a mail-order bride or whatever they're called."

"You do realize how much that sounds like human trafficking, right?"

"It does not! They still do it, you know. There are websites and everything." 

Enji sighed and leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling. The idea sounded horrible. God only knew how sketchy something like that would be, and besides, how horrible were the moral implications of that? Some old bastard like himself purchasing a young girl like a farm animal. 

It wasn't completely unheard of. Plenty colleagues of his had foreign brides ordered for them. Even his own cousins had done similar things. Hell, he wasn't far off from trying it out to get the perfect quirk marriage before he found Rei. 

But now? It sounded cruel. Unnecessary. He already resented himself for how he treated his family— he didn't need to ruin the life of some other woman too.

"I am not going to order a wife," he said, voice strained, "like a spare part off of eBay. Do you not see how horrible that would look on me?"

Keigo waved his hand dismissively, unbothered. “It’s not like that. These women are looking for a chance at a better life," he explained before teasingly adding, "just like the lonely men who send for them." 

Enji stared at him, trying to decipher if he was serious. “You really think I'm desperate enough to buy some random woman?"

"Don't think of it like 'buying.' Think of it as rescuing. How will the press feel about that, hm? Imagine the headline: ‘Endeavor, the hero with a heart, saves a foreign damsel in distress by bringing her to Japan to live a new life of riches and mind-blowing sex!'"

"You disgust sometimes, you little brat."

Keigo leaned over the table, teeth flashing briefly as he spoke. "Just think about it, okay? I'll send you some links tonight." He got up and pushed his chair in with his foot. "Besides, I'm tired of being your only friend. These little 'dates' of ours are cutting majorly into my work." 

Keigo had compiled a ridiculously long list of websites and companies that specialized in international marriage deals. He had definitely committed to the bit too much or he had researched this topic heavily before presenting it to Enji via text.

Either way, Enji peered at his cell phone screen in distaste. Link after link, scrolling through the masterlist Hawks compiled, he just felt more unsure of the idea. The names of the sites left a strange feeling in his gut. 

GoldenBride, Rose Brides, Latidate. For fuck's sake, UkraineBride4You dot com? "Legitimate & Cheapest Mail Order Bride Sites! Click here for more!" 

He clicked his phone off. The light from the vibrant ads and taglines disappeared from his face as quickly as they appeared, leaving him in the dark of his bedroom. He didn't speak, he just stayed in his bed, leaning on the headboard in silence. 

He had gotten used to his house being quiet. It was never especially loud, but at least when the kids still lived at home, he could hear the sounds of life. Of Shoto's feet padding through the halls. The sound of Fuyumi's books opening and closing. Natsuo's grumbling under his breath. Proof that he had gotten them all this far— that he had done something right for them. 

No. He couldn't stay this way, living in the dark silence, figuratively and literally. He turned his phone back on and clicked the highlighted link with the least concerning name. 

Well, you were just the perfect little thing, weren't you? Young, pretty, doe-eyed, and sweet. After perusing a website that looked less criminal than he thought it would, Enji decided on you. He had to have you. 

You stood out immediately from the pages of other women. All of them were, of course, gorgeous. They would not be advertised if they weren't. You, though. There was something about you. You were small—Enji liked that—but not frail. Built for carrying children was what you were, he decided, with your soft curves and buxom build. 

Your profile did not give much away. Basic information and a little greeting. It intrigued him enough, so clearly it worked. 

The two of you chatted for a few weeks, if you could call it that. There was little getting to know each other and more plane tickets being purchased and pick up times being arranged. To say that you had him hooked was an understatement, especially considering the only tools you had to connect with him were shitty translations of your language to his from Google and emojis. 

Everything about you read as gentle. Docile. Probably the only personality Enji was equipped to deal with. He would just die if married to a combative woman. His enemies would love to see him nestled up with a loud, abrasive one with a temper to match his own. 

No, you would do quite nicely, with your limited speaking and non-provoking nature. You were the perfect escape, a blank canvas onto which he could project his hopes for a new life onto. He could start a family over again. He could fix his mistakes and move on. Maybe, just maybe, he could forgive himself.

The flood of ideas filled him each time his phone buzzed with your messages, even if they were often short and punctuated by misunderstandings and screwy sentences due to poor translations. He found himself counting the days until your plane would take off to bring you to him, to his home. He had plans for you.

Things moved quickly with your new husband. Just last week your flight landed. Then you were  saying "I do," and now he had you bent in positions unimaginable. 

He worked fast. His hands were large and rough, but God, they were efficient. Thick fingers rubbed at your clit. A thicker cock  prodded at your entrance. You wriggled beneath him a bit, eyes widening at the stretch. 

You didn't have the words to tell him you were a virgin, but you didn't have the desire to stop him either. 

"Hold still, you," he said, voice gentle in comparison to how rough his strokes were. "You've got to let it adjust." 

Even if you could understand his words, the heat burning your ears drowned out any sound completely. Fullness filled you everywhere. Like a missing piece you never knew you didn't have. 

"Ah, you still aren't broken in yet for me," he muttered to himself. He watched as your struggles to swallow him into your walls. "Virgin, yeah?"

You mumbled incoherently to yourself, feeling his words cast over your face. More or less, you understood the tone of his words and hummed in agreement, hands playing with your tits absent mindedly. 

Pain tinted moans escaped you. Enji felt good, sure, but a warmth of discomfort passed through you with every inch of him. Your mind told you yes, but your body tried to reject him. He was simply too big, and too much. 

Not that it would stop him. 

He spat on his length to ease the friction. A steady hand stayed over your clit, abusing it to the point of overstimulation. He wanted this to be pleasurable for you, but he had a goal in mind. 

The load or two he had pumped into you earlier wasn't enough. He wouldn't dare give up yet, especially not with the adrenaline rush hearing you whine gave him. 

Besides, your plane ticket was expensive. He planned on getting paid back in spades.

[scoobydoodean]

sorry if you already answered this before but is your issue with dean’s ending the fact that he died or just the way that he died?

I mean... both? And even more than that?

The way that he died is ridiculous. He died in a freak accident on a rusty nail, taken out by vampire #3. The manner of his death is sorely lacking in dignity and respect that a character like Dean deserves after 15 years of fighting. It's like killing Tony Stark at the end of Avengers by having him slip on a banana peel during a fight and crack his head open. Jensen actually had to fight to have Dean die on his feet instead of laying on the ground. They tried to deny him even that. Dean says outright that he doesn't want to die. He doesn't die sacrificially, or for any reason other than a small, unfortunate accident, and I think that's genuinely sick, and I think there's absolutely nothing to appreciate about it in any way, and every single person who pretends it was somehow profound or touching? I still want to punch them in the face, and it's been four years. It was ridiculous and meaningless and stupid and I genuinely could not stand to watch Supernatural for two years straight after seeing it.

Aside from how he died, there's the fact that Dean didn't want to die, and that he was finally (allegedly) free from the author of the story and that freedom was instantly taken from him. When you write an insufferable meta season where you reveal that an evil god has been authoring the characters lives all along, then have him defeat the author... you end that story by placing the rest of that character's journey back into his hands and refusing to write the rest of it. You don't kill him young and bloody and use his brother's mourning as a backdrop to show the rest of his days have been written out for him by you into eternity, locking him into your vision of his future as the author of his life. The fact that the series ended that way points to the notion that the Winchesters didn't actually beat Chuck in the end—that he was still writing their lives—that he killed Dean and punished Sam. Nothing about that makes me clap my hands in giddy enjoyment at a dark and twisted ending. It's like... pretty much the number one illustration of all the things I despise most about Andrew Dabb's particular brand of sloppy, hair-brained meta drivel plots grounded in nothing but his own boredom, mean-spiritedness, and ego.

Add that they killed a character who suffered from depression and suicidal thoughts for most of the series that way, while he cried and said he didn't want to die and begged his brother not to leave him to die alone. Add that Dean's death sucks the meaning out of Cas's sacrifice, because Dean didn't even make it six months, and his presence at the final battle with Chuck wasn't even important since he was just there to be beaten bloody along with Sam as a distraction. Add that they suck the found family (a very Dean specific theme) out of the finale. Add that Dean's death in this context means that Sam is a failure—that he failed at the number one thing he wanted most. Add that it causes Sam so much grief that he never recovers, and can't stomach doing the job he grew to love doing most—being a hunter and a man of letters. That after setting Sam up to become a leader, they have him abandon everything and mourn in a bad wig for the next 50 years or whatever.

Dean's death isn't just ruinous in of itself. It poisons everyone else's ending.

And that's all I really care to say about it. It's not a topic I enjoy thinking about or writing about actually. I'm not interested in arguing or hearing from anyone who pretends it was good or profound or meaningful. It genuinely ruined the entire series for me. I only came back here because The Winchesters undid some of the things it tried to do. If not for that, this blog and all the meta on it would not exist today.

[vivicas-dollhouse]

Colors

You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece

Genre: smut

Characters: bloody painter/helen otis, fem reader

Desc: Art school was always a dream, but the constant competition was suffocating. You always felt behind, especially when the guy painting in red in front of you was so perfect.. but getting to know him, you realized your just like him.. he is art. And you're his muse.

Cws: porn with plot, pnv sex, sex tape, mild degrading, blowjob, friends to lovers, nice helen bc my original idea was very different, idk its fairly vanilla

4.1k words, enjoy!

You were fascinated by him.

The man who sat at the front of your still life class, quietly painting whatever was in front of him with the skill of a seasoned artist, one whos paintings hung front and center in an exhibition. He used the same red hue to sketch, and when you had thought about it, it made sense. It was a unifying underpainting, it harmonized everything into a crimson tinged tone.

You had never dared approach him, he seemed so focused that you felt it would be rude to interrupt, but he drove you insane. His blue eyes seemed to cut into your heart, shattering the shell you had built up over the years of ridicule over your skill level. You didnt want to get close to him in case he did the exact same thing, you weren't worthy of his attention.

Yet, he noticed you.

It had started with a bump, a accidental nudge as you set up your station. You had apologized, as your paint stained his blue jacket but he simply dismissed it.

“Its ok, art is messy,” he had said, face deadpan except for a glint in his eye that sent a flutter through you. He had simply walked away afterwards, setting his station up and beginning. Yet, you found him glancing over his shoulder at you every once in a while, falling behind on his work in favor to meet your eyes. You had smiled back at him, watching for a smile from him, but his face had remained stoic.

After the class had concluded, you stood back and admired your piece, or what you had of it. Time had gotten away from you yet again, your smock stained with acrylic despite the lack of paint on the canvas. You furrowed your brow, sighing with defeat.

“Its not that bad you know,” a voice spoke from behind you. You jumped, turning quickly to see the man in the blue jacket.

“O-oh, you think?” You stammered, watching as he stepped towards the painting.

“No, it just has a few technique issues. You have the colors matched pretty well, its just the foreshortening giving it that uneven look.” He said, turning to meet your flustered face. “My names Helen by the way, its nice to meet you,”

“Hi, my names (Y/N), im glad you like it. I have seen your work too, its beautiful,” you smiled. His face remained still as you began to pack up your station. “I love that red underpainting you do,”

His face seemed to brighten as you said this, a shocked look in his eyes. “Oh, that? Its just an old habit. It makes it look more… human.” He trailed off.

“Well i think its smart. Do you want to go eat something with me? I think we are holding up the next class,” you giggled, watching for any hint of a smile. Nothing.

“Id like that, thank you. Theres this great coffee place close to the main campus, do you like scones?”

–

It was easy to see why he liked this coffee shop, it was quiet, just some ambient chatter with excellent pastries. You werent a fan of coffee, but the tea you had bought hit the spot.

You had spent at least two hours there, just talking and flipping through each others sketchbooks. It was interesting to see how his brain worked, the hundreds of life studies in that same red wash of what seemed to be thinned watercolor. He wasnt judgmental of your works, simply pointing out some things you could change and showing you techniques on how to fix it. He complimented your cartoons, something that most people didnt take seriously as an art form.

“No, really, it is good. I cant draw cartoons for the life of me, its its own skill set. I think its cool that you can have two distinct styles, it shows range.” He flattered, taking a sip of his mocha.

You smiled, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thank you, it doesn't really get taken seriously at this art school. Its what got me into art, i wish people understood like you do.”

He set his coffee down, closing his sketchbook. “I do have to go unfortunately, but we should do this again. It really was lovely, i dont have many friends and your nice to talk to. We should come back after next class, if you want to.” He said, standing and collecting his items.

“Id love to!! And im glad i can be considered your friend,” you beamed, packing up your pens and pencils.

He looked at you, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “Thank you for this, really. Be safe getting home.”

Your heart fluttered as you looked at his smile, something you didnt realize you needed until it was staring you in the face. Helen… was your friend.. at least enough to want to meet again.

That was enough for you to smile the whole way back to your dorm.

–

As the week flew by, you caught glimpses of him around campus. You had never noticed him around before, but now that you knew him, you saw him everywhere. He lingered in the shade, always drawing something in his sketchbook as people walked by. Walking from class to class became a wheres waldo game, just trying to locate him in the campus grounds. You were getting obsessive, and you knew this. It was hard not to be, he spoke with such an eloquence and was eager to teach you anything. You spent the time in the cafeteria daydreaming with a slice of pizza that you were back at the cafe with him.

Then the day came.

You sat at your easel, trying to focus on the subject and not on his presence. You wanted to impress him, show him that you had learned something from his tips. But every time you glanced over, you saw his painting getting more and more life-like and you were floored. Every time you looked at your own piece you felt discouraged. How do you get to his level?

The professors timer went off, signaling the end of the allotted painting session. You stepped back and looked at the figure you had drawn, removing your smock.

“Hey, it looks much better,” he said, walking up to see the work. “Your anatomy has improved, dont beat yourself up. I can tell you dont like it, but thats to be expected. I dont like my work either.”

You smiled, a warm flush running over your face. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Yours is better though.”

“Its impossible to compare art, since everyone has different definitions of what art even is. You saw that banana taped to the wall fiasco, didnt you?” He teased, just a hint of a grin showing through his face. You laughed, picking up your bag.

“I did, isnt that fucking awful? We paid thousands of dollars to go here and a banana beats us,” you playfully smiled, turning to walk out the class with him.

“I am more and more confused by rich people every day. I dont know if this is controversial, but i do not understand abstract art.”

–

“Cmon, you seriously have never had crème brûlée?” Helen asked, face deadpan like you had come to expect. It had been about a month and a half of weekly meet ups, and you had come to realize that he only smiled when he was ecstatic. He had smiled more and more every time you met, and he had taken the time to get to know you on a deeper level than friends. He had asked to take you out to dinner.

The text you had received from him said it was “upscale dining” and that he would treat you to whatever you wanted. Your heart had skipped a beat when you read it, a warm glow smattered across your face.

“No, i really haven't,” you grinned, taking a sip of your soda. You recoiled at the taste, a salty tinge having been added to the drink somehow. “Ew, did you put something in this?” You smacked your lips. The taste was like a warhead, an almost spicy sensation in the mouth.

“No, the waiter took your drink and i got you lime sparkling water.. i figured since you liked sprite it would be the same, im so sorry,” he smiled, watching you take another sip.

“Im trying to like it, but damn, that is NASTY,” you joked, setting the drink to the side.

“Do you want me to get you something else? I can call the waiter,” he offered, taking a sip of his own drink.

“Can i have some of yours?” You asked, a thinly veiled flirt.

You hadn't exactly been secretive about your feeling for helen, you knew he knew. He had been bringing you gifts, you had been paying for food and taking him around campus. There was a mutual fondness for each other that had lead to this first real “date” he had arranged.

“Its cherry sparkling water, id doubt youd like it anymore than that,” he sighed, watching you attempt to drink more. “You dont have to drink it you know,”

“Its a willpower thing now, i will finish this,” you asserted, watching him smile.

God, you loved that smile.

“Ok, your funeral,”

“What, you trying to kill me via carbonation?” You giggled, taking another sip and cringing.

He laughed, a rare noise from him that made your heart skip a beat. “No, i just think your cute is all. Stubbornly cute.”

You made a small noise of flustered laughter, your face going red as you buried it in your hands.

“You cant just SAY that,” you mumbled, voice muffled from your hands.

“Well its true, i cant lie to you, it would be mean,” he smirked as you uncovered your face.

Your eyes locked, a mutual smile across both your flushed faces. “Since when are you flirting with me?” You giggled, watching as his mind searched for an answer. You could see the gears turning, struggling to find an answer to your prodding. He wasnt the type to compliment, at least not in the past. He had said something here or there, but the statement played through your mind like a song.

“I dunno, maybe im losing it,” he looked away, an odd expression on his face. It was a mix of his usual blank look and something you couldnt name. Almost sad..

“Do you want to get some drinks? Or could we head back to my place?” He asked, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

“Y… your place?” You blushed, your mind blinking like a green light in a storm, something so beautiful and simple, it just felt right.

“Yeah, only if you want to,” he shrugged.

“Yeah ill do drinks. Im a lightweight, but id love to go back to your place! Maybe we can watch a movie?” You grinned, a happy glow on your cheeks.

“Sure, i have some streaming services. Ill get the waiter, my treat.”

–

The headlights rolled by on the dark highway, the soothing sound of the radio with the cool air making you even more tired. You had gone quiet, even though it was only 10pm, you felt exhausted. You were probably just full and happy, but in the back of your mind something felt wrong. You werent sure what it was, maybe you were getting sick.

“Do you want the aux? I hate late night radio,” he said, exiting the highway.

“Oh, yeah sure. You might not like my music, its very 2010s,” you replied, reaching for the cord sticking out from the beat up cars radio.

“I dont mind, as long as its not gonna put me to sleep,” he mumbled.

You went to lift your arm, but it was heavy. It was a strain to move your fingers, the sway of the car making your body flop to the side. You sighed, making a small grumble of confusion.

“You ok?” Helen asked, turning onto a neighborhood street.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes with a great deal of effort. “Yeah, just really tipsy,”

You looked out the window, watching as the apartment complexes rolled by and entered into a couple houses. “You live in a house? You must be rich,” you teased, the car pulling into a small mobile home.

“Yeah, inheritance money. Its not much but it works.” He put the car in park, removing the key with a click. The inner car lights came on, with you struggling to see.

“Jesus that's bright,” you muttered, opening your car door. You stepped out, swaying and stumbling on the gravel driveway.

You felt a hand wrap around your waist, a warm tingle radiating from the touch. You looked up at him, slowly smiling as you let him lead you inside.

“This is nice,” you blushed, leaning into his body. His grip on you tightened, an almost possessive grasp on your body.

“It is isnt it?” He calmly opened the door, the cool ac feeling nice on your warm skin. You hadn't realized how hot you had been until you fully entered the house, the lights clicking on revealing a cozy little living room.

“Oh wow, you ARE rich,” you laughed, kicking off your shoes.

“Not really, most of this is second hand. Its not really cheap living near campus, so most of my money is used on rent.” He said, removing his shoes and signature blue coat.

You went to walk forward, but stumbled almost immediately. You squeaked as you fell, quickly being caught by helen.

“Are you sure your alright? You ARE a lightweight.” He pulled you into his arms, his blue eyes quickly sweeping over you. You rested your hands on his chest, his face quickly turning red.

“Maybe.. i think ill be ok though.. at least when im with you,” you sighed dreamily, eyes softening as he led you into his living room.

“Im glad you have so much faith in me,” he teased, sitting you on the couch. “Do you want a drink? I dont have soda but i can get you a water,”

You watched him walk into his kitchen, opening the fridge. “Waters good,” you slouched back into the couch, resting comfortably in the soft cushions. He handed you a water, sitting next to you.

“What do you want to watch?” He asked, clicking on the tv.

–

You stared blankly in his eyes, spit still connecting your lips. The tv played in the background, the sound of your gasping overshadowing whatever episode of house md was on. You were more focused on his hands running up your shirt and his lips reconnecting with yours. You whined into his lips, lost deep in his love. He pushed you down into the couch, his plush lips enveloping your senses. Your reasoning was lost, you drunk him in like the water in a desert, gently resting your arms on his shoulders. He moaned a bit, moving to be fully on top of you. His pressure on your hips was a gentle one, slowly rocking into you. Your lips parted for a moment, both gasping for air.

“Please,” you breathed, a love drunk smile spreading across your face.

“Please what lamb?” He whispered, brushing a hair out of your face. The pet name sent a shudders through your body, your legs spread just enough that he could wedge his leg between them.

“Please fuck me,” you moaned, head going blank as you watched his brain turning the gears.

“Cmon, say it again,” he whispered, lips meer centimeters from yours. You made a small whine of desperation, running your hands through his soft black hair. “Say it again for me,”

“Please fuck me,” you begged, louder this time. He kissed at your neck, trailing kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. He sucked at the skin, gently leaving little hickeys all over you.

“Please please please, please just fuck me,” you whimpered, listening to him humming into your collarbone.

“Thats it, good girl (y/n),” he pulled away, seemingly satisfied with the number of marks he had left all over you. “Can i take off your shirt?”

You nodded needily, lifting your arms as he quickly pulled it off. He tossed it to the side, sliding off his own shirt while you removed your pants. You kicked them off, laying in just a black bra and panties. He quickly got on top of you again, bashing his lips into yours hungrily, your mouths opening to each other. You hazily bit at his lip, gentle gasps escaping both of you as his tongue poked at your bottom lip. You let him in, whining as he ran his hand up and down your torso, sliding up and around your neck. He didn't squeeze, he just held it there possessively, claiming it as his. You deepened the kiss, rolling your hips into his as he groaned into your lips.

You parted, huffing for air as you quickly removed your bra. You laid there as he stared at your bare chest, running his hand over your soaked panties as he pulled them to the side. The tent in his boxers was noticeable, a wet spot forming on them from his precum.

“Lay back, ill give you head, please let me,” you whimpered, watching him quickly comply. You quickly got between his legs, sliding his boxers down just enough for his dick to leak onto his stomach. You pressed kisses to the cloth over the rest of his shaft, listening to him groan and feeling his twitch through his boxers.

“Can i record you? I wanna watch this back over and over to see that cute face,” he whispered, reaching for his phone.

You stared at him, baffled. You had never even considered the idea of a sex tape, no one had ever thought that highly of you, even past boyfriends had never had THAT much interest. The idea may have been strange, but you couldn't help how horny it made you.

“Please, go ahead,” you smiled, watching as his face reflect the light of the screen.

“And.. go,”

You went back to kissing through his boxers, taking care to look up at the camera while doing so. Your face was on fire, the idea of being captured like this by a camera forever was one you didnt know you liked.

“Cmon (y/n), just be good for me,” he whispered, watching as you pulled the boxers the rest of the way down. You spat on his dick, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Wrapping your hands around the base, you took the length in your mouth eagerly. He groaned, resting his hand in your hair. You sucked at him with hollow cheeks, lips and cheeks wet.

“Thats it, your doing so good,” he praised, holding your chin up while his dick popped out of your mouth. You ran your tongue up it, licking over the back while working your hand up and down the base. “Smile,”

You looked into the camera and smiled, the spit and precum rolling down your chin as you went back down on him. You slowly wrapped your tongue around him, gliding up and down his cock while he mumbled swears.

“You look so hot like that, all whored out for me. Look at the camera for me. Im gonna paint this, it's worth more that way,”

You whined, but obliged anyway. Your spit leaked out your mouth as he looked at you through the screen.

“Stupid slut,” he said, gently forcing your head down. You gagged as he kept his dick down your throat, grasping at his legs. “Hold on, just calm down for me..” he whispered, rolling his hips into your mouth as you sputtered. He let up on your head, pulling you off of him with a pop as you coughed.

“Cmon, take off your panties for me,” he demanded, a cold look on his face as you did so.

“Your not actually gonna paint this are you?” You whimpered, throwing your panties off the edge of the couch.

“Spread,” he calmly commanded, pushing your legs apart. You obeyed, watching as he zoomed in on your dripping pussy. “Look at that, such a whore,”

You watched him gently run a finger over your clit, such a small sensation that left your thighs twitching. He pulled you into him, aligning himself with you, slowly pushing his way inside. Your head rolled back as you whined, slowly being filled up by his cock.

“Look at that, thats gonna be a masterpiece,” he growled, moving into you as slowly as he could, gently rocking back and forth into you. He put the camera into your face, gently pulling you into him by your hips. “Look at her, shes totally cock drunk,”

“Please, more,” you whined needily, rocking into him trying to get any relief.

“Shhh, art takes time, and your gonna be patient, arent you?” He looked into your eyes, his gaze going over the screen and directly at you. You nodded quickly, and he smiled. “Good girl,”

You whined as he slowly rocked into you, slowly moving his free hand to your clit. He grazed over it, earning a pathetic mewl from your lips as you tried to buck into the touch.

“No, be patient. Your doing this on my speed. Understand?”

You whined sadly but nodded. His gazed softened a bit, making a sad noise. “Your so needy aren't you lamb?” He purred, speeding up ever so slightly.

“So needy,” you sighed, gasping as he pointed the camera down at your pussy and ran a finger over your throbbing clit. “Fuck-”

“Dumb slut, im not even doing anything and your melting,” he bit, slowly applying pressure in gentle circles. He quickly wet his fingers and reapplied them, losing a bit of resolve. He began to thrust into you at a quicker pace, turning the camera back to your desperate face. “Thatll be great in a gallery,”

“Fuck, please,” you babbled, drool leaking out of the corner of your mouth.

“Cmon, thats it, just make those dumb little noises for me, stupid slut,” he groaned, quickly rutting into you. You made strangled cries, the new stimulation melting you down into a noisy mess. The camera stayed on your cock drunk face, your cries all being captured on film.

“Fuck, faster, please fuck-”

“Look at her tits, she looks pathetic.. look at the camera,” he growled, with your head quickly snapping to the camera. “Say your a whore,”

You whined, choking on your own spit. “Im a fucking whore,” you gasped, back arched as your body gave into him.

“Smile and say it again,” he moaned, keeping his eyes on the screen so he could properly get your face.

You grinned, a dopey smile across your flushed face. “Im a stupid fucking whore,” you moaned, voice becoming ragged as you uncontrollably moaned. He pushed into you quickly now, a hand holding you down by your waist.

“Whos whore?” He gasped, quickly losing control as the slapping of your wet skin got sloppier and sloppier.

“Im your- fuck- your fucking stupid whore- fuck-” you gasped, head rolling back as he panned the camera back to your pussy.

“Tell me when your close,” he huffed, digging his nails into your skin as he panted.

“Y-yes sir,” you whined, a gurgling noise rising in your throat as your moans got louder.

“Sir huh? You are so fucking cute, the neighbors are all gonna hear what a dumb whore you are. My dumb whore, my stupid- fucking- whore- shit,” he rolled his head back as you felt him tear through you, wrecking your insides.

“G-gonna cum s-sir,” you whimpered, thighs shaking as he turned the camera back to your face.

“Look in the camera and say it,” he hissed through his teeth, quickly losing control. Your body tensed, the intense pleasure rolling through you in waves

“Im fucking cumming- im fucking- ah-” you moaned, a high pitched whine escaping your throat as he pulled out and came on your stomach. You both shook, gasping for air as the hazey room fell silent. The only sound was the quiet tv in the background and your breathing.

“Shit…” helen gasped, turning the phone camera off.

“That was so good.. fuck..” you huffed, eyes half lidded and empty.

“Let me get you a towel,” he whispered, reaching for the tissues on the side table. He passed you one, wiping the cum off his dick while you wiped his off your stomach.

“God… i need this to be a permanent thing…” you smiled, watching him look at you.

“Is that you asking me out?” He asked, a shocked look on his face, one that was out of place for him.

“Yeah, i guess it is,” you smiled gently, sitting up.

“Id love to be your boyfriend,”

--

Fic title

[anotherhomelanderblog]

So, a common consensus seems to be that Homelander starts hating Hughie out of nowhere. Before he even knows he's involved with the group who killed Translucent, he sees him at the Believe Expo and decides to torment him. It's almost instinctive and a nice parallel to Butcher's similarly instinctive feelings towards Hughie. It helps set these two sides up against each other etc etc.

Buuuut... I do actually think there was a specific reason Homelander took an initial disliking to Hughie at the Believe Expo.

First of all, he was pissed off at Madelyn for prioritising Teddy over him, so he was already in the mood to subtly act up - as we see later when he gives his speech. But why target Hughie, this nobody he's never met before, out of every single person in that tent if he wanted someone safe to take his frustrations out on? For the plot, yes, but also...

I think he was doing it for Starlight. Hear me out.

We know a young Homelander was told by Vought that the Seven would be his family, and certainly in the early seasons we get moments where it's clear he does view them this way - albeit in a very messed up, controlling sense, but duh. He's the leader of the Seven, so therefore obviously he should be some kind of father figure to the younger members, right? He plays this role with A-Train when he finds out he and Popclaw have been shooting up V.

In the Believe Expo episode, we get Annie herself thinking Hughie has only befriended her for the perks being friends with someone in the Seven can get you - in this instance, tickets to Ezekiel's private and expensive baptism event. When Homelander introduces himself to Hughie, he makes it pretty clear he knows he's only there because he's Starlight's friend. He even makes a pointed comment about the tickets being pricey. Clearly, he believes Hughie is taking advantage of her too.

We don't see Homelander and Annie interact one to one an awful lot in S1. They sort of go from that very interesting scene on the corridor where they talk about secret identities to him getting all up in her face for "betraying" the Seven. We don't really get to know for sure if Annie's whole perception of Homelander was shattered in that latter moment, or if he'd already pulled intimidating stunts with her the way he does with A-Train, Deep, and Maeve. My point being, they don't appear to have been close on a personal level and - since Homelander is very prone to doing things for people without asking them first, anyway - it makes sense to me that he'd take this twisted, paternalistic approach to the situation he saw and intimidate Hughie on her behalf like this.

But still, he's Homelander. Why bother? This is Annie's problem. Well, not purely out of the goodness of his heart, of course. I do wish they'd explored Homelander and Annie's relationship and parallels a bit more throughout the show, but they didn't (and probably won't in S5, either). I'm not trying to claim he had any particular feelings towards her at this point in S1 - things didn't get truly messy between them before S3, anyway. I'm sure at first he thought she was a naive idiot due for a wake up call, who'd soon fall into line, and whom he didn't need to worry too much about.

But, all of that ambivalence aside, the fact remains for Homelander: Starlight is a supe and a member of the Seven. We know Homelander's views on humans, so in his books it'd be totally unacceptable for a supe, especially one at Starlight's level, to be taken advantage of - made a mockery of, taken for a ride, whatever - by the insipidly average human known as Hughie Campbell. Homelander can't have Hughie thinking he's gotten away with disrespecting the Seven like that. What makes him special? Nothing. Does he think he's clever getting himself freebies? Think again. Homelander could actually drown him right here, right now, if he was feeling vindictive enough.

It's petty behaviour, because Homelander is petty. And, to be fair, considering he's spent his entire life being taken advantage of for the sake of Vought's fortunes and people's entertainment... you can understand why this situation combined with an already bad mood irks him enough to act. He can't/won't attack the system that puts supes in this situation, but he can lash out at the little guy who thinks he's getting one up on them.

That's my interpretation, anyway! And, of course, the irony is that Hughie wasn't taking advantage of Annie because he wanted something as basic as VIP access to some dumb event - he was actually part of the group coming for Vought and Homelander. To Homelander, Annie really is betraying her "own kind" by still loving this guy in the later seasons. Maybe some part of him even thought he was saving her - as well as getting to torment both her and Hughie for his own amusement - by forcing her into a relationship with him in S3.

But that's another discussion...

[thistlerock]

Okay Fantasy High webtoon. I fuck w/ you. (I've read the three free eps so far so this is only about those.)

It made me laugh a few times and I generally found it pleasant, and even if there's some design choices I don't super agree with the art IS very charming. I also enjoyed the composition a lot it's just nice to look at. I can't super tell if I'd be as into this if I was a new fan coming in or of I'm just excited because I love Fantasy High (gonna have my girlfriend tell me /hj) but I personally really liked it :)

Minor lore differences I noticed is that Penny went missing quite recently? When originally she'd been missing for the longest iirc? Also Torek was already AT Agueford with the skater dwarves rather than being a middle schooler at this point. Ultimately neither of these should affect the plot much just noticed that.

Speaking of plot, I like that we follow Riz!! He's really fun and being focused on the character focused on the mystery is probably the most useful for a comic (though I'm assuming we'll eventually also follow the other Bad Kids more like with the Fabian and Adaine cutaways and I'm also looking forward to that). I was initially a little put off by the fact we skip everyone but Riz's introductions, but it would have been awkward in comic form to give everyone a turn like in actual play, and I think they handled it nicely and the characterisation in their respective first scenes is still clear and good. So far we haven't seen much of Adaine but I assume we're gonna get more about her (and Fig, and Kristen — though Kristen's whole deal is already pretty clear with just one scene, lmao) in later chapters.

My one gripe that I think is worth mentioning here so far is that I kind of hoped Penny and Sam would look closer to their The Seven designs! But I also understand that those are more complex than their original ones, and they shouldn't look like main characters or whatever. Just personally kinda awe-ed at it.

Other super minor changes include Kristen and Gorgug instant bestism?? Hello? Give me more. Also Gorgug and Fabian's fight was slightly more elaborate I think? Which was cool! (Reminds me that I'm curios to see how combat is portrayed, seems fun.) Though I will mourn the loss of "hey you seem pretty non-violent-" "I got into a rage."

A less minor change is that Gorgug made the tin flower himself? I think his mum just gave it to him originally. I'm gonna assume he doesn't start out multiclassing that'd be kinda insane (though I also find it interesting that in this format you don't technically have to tell us what level they are. And I'm curious to see how faithful to dnd mechanics this is gonna be. Personally I think it'd be fun to be very meta or not meta at all, but weird in-betweens tend to be awkward.), but it's cool he already tinkers. Maybe he becomes an artificer sooner in this? Or this is just setting up his eventual genius in building that cell tower or something similar? Idk. It's just nice to see him do the thing his parents also do. I also enjoy how Riz got detention in this version because it's delightfully cringe and gave me second hand embarrassment however I do find it interesting that this doesn't set up Ostentatia? Are we gonna meet her later or are we not gonna know her when she gets plot relevant? I could also see her and Fig having an interaction instead but idk, we'll see.

In general I'm curious as to how the plot is going to progress, because I think comic form makes it both easier to set up and follow and harder to make entertaining. Also there's a lot of dice motifs in the promotional art, do rolls ever get portrayed or is that for the aesthetic? If you read ahead already don't tell me I wanna find out myself lol.

So yeah my overall opinion is that I like it so far. Pleasantly surprised! It was really awesome to see all my favourite little guys repeatedly drawn, especially Ragh. If you know me you know I got so excited over Ragh aha. He's going through it right now but soon,,,soon he'll be perfect.

Anyway. Here's my favourite panels that I just HAD to screenshot and send to my friends on discord (or well some. Tumblr mobile has a ten image limit. I sent them about half the damn webtoon.)

Special shoutout to this one. How dare you do this to me. So sick and twisted.

ALSO WAS ZAYN ALWAYS SO. LIKE THIS??? WHO IS THIS TWINK. WHY IS HE STRUTTING. WHAT IS THAT BACK BEND INSTEAD OF TURNING AROUND LIKE A NORMAL PERSON. WHY IS HE WEARING LOW JEANS AND A BODYSUIT IN SCHOOL. CAN YOU HAVE SLUTTY HIP CUT OUTS IN SCHOOL I CANT?? (Obsessed w/ him)

I wrote this between four and five am after starting the webtoon at like. Three thirty. Any spelling mistakes are because I'm tired and not because I can't read Ragh style, I prommy. (Ragh is just dyslexic. Randomly placed headcanon, or whatever.)

[jynmelshian]

After sleeping on it for a night ive decided im extremely pissed they reduced bix to cassian's stay at home troubled wife, and even though i think it's the best thing that she left him so that they could both stay with the rebellion, i do think it was very badly executed. i saw a post mention that she should have been more radicalised after killing gorst, and i realised, even though it makes sense that she'd be so changed and traumatised after her arrest and torture, season 1 bix would not in any world be happy with staying in their little domestic jungle yurt while cassian was away doing Some Shit, especially not after finally getting her revenge and reaping the benefits of that. i definitely think we should have seen her be more proactive and assertive in the rebellion operations, even if it was only on yavin. she's a ferrixian mechanic, for christ's sake, why did we never see her anywhere near any machinery or ships??

i think that's the most disappointing thing about this season. it's like they forgot bix's entire personality in season 1 and replaced it all with "loves cassian, tormented by dreams, wishes she was doing more," and forgot that she's also a tradeworker, she was also affected by the destruction of ferrix and the loss of brasso, she tried to outrun stormtroopers, she tried to stand up to dedra meero, she's not so weak and 2 dimensional that she can be satisfyingly confined to whatever domestic setting she and cassian have settled into.

there were hints of her thirst to do more in her interaction with luthen in episode 5 and i understand the narrative being like "but she's still too tired and vulnerable to do anything!" because well, she's suffered the worst torture you can suffer AND then was victim to disgusting imperial sexual violence... but it felt like after she and cassian blew up gorst, the show sort of wiped its hands of bix's arc and went back to making her entire life revolve around cassian... and then her decision to leave made sense but, making it about a force healer's vision about cassian's significance in the rebellion felt sort of... weak? a little bit silly? if it was in combination with us seeing more explicitly how frustrated and eager to fight and win bix was at this point, it would have been a lot more satisfying. i mostly enjoyed her and cassian's relationship in this season, i think it was interesting how surviving ferrix brought them back together, and seeing them go from exes who can't stand each other but still lowkey love each other to genuinely ride or die in love was actually a lot more interesting and enjoyable than i thought it would be. HOWEVER. they dropped the fucking ball on bix's character and storyline, and in hindsight that made their relationship feel like a little bit of unnecessary plot device. there were other ways to set up cassian's final arc and there were DEFINITELY other, better ways to pan out bix's arc.

and i don't think it's an inability to write women well, because i think they've done a fantastic job with mon mothma and dedra and kleya. but i think it's an inability to write women within romantic relationships with men well. that's the issue. it's as if the price for a happy relationship with cassian was 80% of bix's strength and independence as a character. and that sucks.

[wingsdippedingold]

You what else is a plot hole? The stairs.

I‘m not sure if it has been discussed already, but Nesta had already climbed the 10k (12k actually) when she reached the 6k step and went back. Going back up is far harder than going down.

It’s not even that Sjm forgot about that detail. When Nesta first tried it and reached only like a 50 or something, She told Cassian that it was 100 technically.

I‘m so fricking tired of Sjm‘s inconsistency.

Also, Cassian calling a very sick woman that climbed 50 stairs down and back „pathetic“ as a 500+ year old gym bro with a lot of experience is pathetic.

Yk what? I don’t think it’s a plot hole.

First I’d like to point something out, that 10,000 steps doesn’t even technically grant her freedom from the regimen that the NC has set up for her, it only allows her to go wherever she wants, but she’d likely be forced back into the HoW by the end and would definitely still be made to train.

(I’ve been talking to all the literary analysis ladies on tik tok who are convinced SJM’s sewing seeds of doubt to create some sort of reveal that the IC actually isn’t amazing, so bear with me because this gets messy)

Even if it’s not what SJM intended, if we look at Nesta like a real person, I think it speaks to how broken down she was at that point. Obviously, at this point Nesta seems to be doing a lot better than she was at the beginning of the book, she’s closer with Cassian, she’s training, and she’s made friends, but that doesn’t really negate the negative effects her treatment has also had on her.

Any logical person with all their faculties would realize there’s no difference between moving back vs. forward once you’ve reached halfway (in her case foward being even easier), but that’s not where Nesta is.

Her mental state is so bad, even if she’s not literally drinking herself to death she’s not she same Nesta to her core, that she can’t even realize her own situation. And if we want to go to a more symbolic route, I think this also speaks to the standards the IC has set for her. She’s only considered fully “healed” when she conforms to whatever mold they’ve determined for her: subservient to Rhysand, pleasing to Feyre, and agreeing to Cassian. To the IC, there is no compromise, either she’s acceptable to them or she’s not. Now I don’t remember the exact circumstances regarding this particular climb, but at that 60% spot, she didn’t reach the 100% that they wanted in the way that she wanted. Despite not actually completing the full journey that would grant her the title as “healed”, Rhysand and the IC actually had achieved their goal of controlling her and breaking her down to be moldable.

What’s interesting is every time she attempt to climb she achieves more steps before going back to the HoW, and every time she seems more and more healed. Now obviously this is a byproduct of her getting healthier and progress, but I think it can still serve as a narrative element showing that the closer she gets to this alleged “freedom” the closer she gets to whatever the IC wants her to be, regardless of if it’s to her benefit or not. And to add to this, she’s not “going up” she’s descending down. Furthermore, what does Cassian do to her attempts and progress? He LAUGHS. There is no encouragement to see her push through and endure, there’s humiliation for not immediately being good enough. That alone should tell you that Cassian wasn’t actually a “trainor” nor should he entrusted with Nesta’s improvement.

ALSO, 6 thousand steps, let alone 10 thousand is INSANE. The fact that she was able to do even that still boggles my mind.

The Burj Khalifa, the world’s tallest building, only has 2,909, not even a third of what they said Nesta had to descend in order to leave the HoW. That task is not a “test of mental endurance”, it’s in fact not meant to be humanly, or faely, possible. SJM’s not stupid, she knows that that is a daunting number (even if Nesta manages to get down 6k), and the IC knows that as well. Cassian waits for Nesta at one because he KNOWS that she won’t make it, not that he doesn’t believe she will, but because he KNOWS.

Again, as many have said it was never presented as a legitimate choice, and the HoW was never meant to actually be about Nesta’s betterment for her own sake.

[syndrossi]

I feel so bad for Elys, dying so early in all of these. Poor girl. Seduced by a prince who she also probably can't say no to (I can't imagine rejecting a prince is a good idea, even if he is married to your sister. Or did she not know it was Daemon?) and then her babies are sad and used by proxy in various plots to destroy her home.

If we go with the boys actually being hers, and she didn't die (Corwyn may or may not have also survived), what would have happened if Daemon ever found them?

I think a highborn maid is allowed to say no to a prince of Daemon's stature. Heck, that's basically why Brandon Stark rode for KL: to demand answers/Rhaegar's head from Aerys for him "dishonoring" Lyanna, and Rhaegar was crown prince (as opposed to Daemon's sinking star at this point in canon).

The way I've thought it likely played out was that you had Daemon hating every second of being in Runestone, avoiding Rhea at every opportunity. And then Elys annoyed at her overbearing sister for refusing 1-2 matches that she thought were perfectly reasonable. They have a mutual bitching session about Rhea, bond, and Daemon turns on the charm jets (which are considerable), and they have a connection in their knowledge of Valyrian, and a whirlwind secret romance ensues, which is exciting for Elys, who at 19-20ish has been quite sheltered.

But it is quite the betrayal of her sister, something that Rhea likely points out immediately once the pregnancy is known. At that point, perhaps Elys is thinking that something could work out somehow, or at least that Daemon would be pleased to have children, even if they were not trueborn. Which leads to Rhea having to partially coerce Elys into going into hiding with them, up to lying and saying that she had told Daemon and he had no interest in bastard children.

That would have been quite painful for Elys to hear, so I could see her resigning herself to whatever match Rhea can get for her, and agreeing to raise them as Corwyn's, since she was the one who had threatened marring House Royce's honor. But you get those things like Elys teaching her babies Valyrian, because part of her still hopes that someday they might meet their father.

As for an AU where she lives and Daemon discovers the twins...ooh, that's tough. They're obviously bastards, as Elys herself attests that she bore them. Daemon definitely will ask Viserys for them to be legitimized. The fact that Rhea aided in hiding them might be enough for him to argue for an annulment, though Daemon dishonoring her with her sister in the first place is certainly...a look. I think the end state is her being brought to KL along with the twins, but a match between them is refused, especially if PTWP qualities come to light early on. Assuming PTWP shenanigans, I'm sure the price for legitimizing them is Daemon marrying Laena. Elys is set up with a house in KL where she gets to spend some time with her children, but the marriage to Laena means that she's expected to keep out of sight of society and content herself with the visits she's allowed.

It's not the romantic fantasy she might have had originally, but I think she would be happy and proud that her sons are princes, while dealing with the bittersweet reality that she will not have the time with them that she did before. Hopefully she finds a handsome knight to fall in love with, marry, and have more babies of her own that the Crown won't take form her.