#still the same chills everytime I watch it

[violenteconomics]

for cater diamond, it starts like this:

cater diamond is made up of lies.

his hair and outfit are designed to give off an air of carefreeness, even when his heart is tearing his chest into ribbons, perfectly planned down to the tiniest wrinkle. he runs all of his words through his head over and over before he says them, navigating every interaction like he's trying to get the perfect run in a video game (and idia would probably appreciate that metaphor if he heard it, maybe cater should bring it up to him, see how it makes him tick—). even his smile has been meticulously manufactured, every little twitch and idiosyncrasy based on the influencers he sees on magicam.

not that anybody really knows about any of this, of course. he's a professional, after all.

all of that to say that cater is a good liar. a great one, even.

one day, ace walks into the kitchen with serious bed-head, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

cater is leaning against the kitchen counter (looking just ruffled enough to appear as if he's just woken up, but still put-together enough to keep up the chill senior persona he's spent the better part of two years cultivating — a look he's mastered after watching the first ten seconds of neige's "morning routine!" video on loop) when he sees the red-head shambling in.

he smirks (corner of his lips tilted 42 degrees up, eyebrows slanted approximately 12 degrees down) and leans his head against his hand. "what's up, sleeping beauty?"

"good mornin', senior," ace grumbles, sounding way too pissed off to actually mean it.

that's what cater likes the most about ace and deuce. they don't feel the need to mask as much as everybody else does in this school. if they have feelings, they'll let you know it almost immediately — ruthlessly in acey's case, and involuntarily in deucey's case. either way, it's kind of cute.

and refreshing. even cater, social butterfly extraordinare, gets tired of analyzing every little bit of somebody's mood and personality and conversational style, in attempt to weaponize them as he tries to achieve the perfect outcome everytime he talks to someone. after two whole years of trying not to trip over any of riddle's landmines (which were actually just his hundreds upon hundreds of trauma responses, as it turns out), cater would've sworn off talking to anybody for the rest of ever if he weren't more of an expert at deceit than that.

it's easy to talk to ace and deuce, comparatively. if they have an opinion, they make it known, even if it's not night raven college-approved. they don't care about what anybody else thinks. for someone who cares about what everyone thinks at all times with no limits on when, where, or who, it's certainly a novelty.

they're different — but cater likes that. they're emotional. they're understanding. they're great underclassmen, even if they don't realize that (and probably never will, because cater's definitely not gonna say anything about it).

cater scrolls through the "#diybreakfast" tag on magicam to hunt for a cute breakfast place he could snap pics of for some more views. "so how'd'ya sleep? deuce didn't try to wrap you up in his 24/7 study sesh, did he?"

ace puts a hand on the back of his neck and groans. "i slept fine. kept waking up because of deuce's loud-ass chewing, though. seriously, who is that noisy when they're eating blueberries?"

cater laughs and pretends the conversation is over.

pretends he didn't notice the way ace hesitated for the briefest of moments before answering cater's simple question.

pretends he didn't notice the way ace rubbed his neck a little too hard to be casual, as if cater didn't use to have that exact same habit whenever riddle took his collar off of him.

pretends he didn't notice the tiny stutter in ace's "i slept fine".

(pretends he didn't say the exact same words, practically verbatim, every time trey asked him if he slept well during their second year at night raven college.)

(because he's supposed to be the unbothered one. he might actually crumble into a pile of misery if he has to let go of that idea.)

(maybe it's the same for ace, too.)

(it might be fake strength, but it's something to hold onto, nevertheless.)

because nobody else would've noticed that. nobody else craves validation so much to even bother. so if he's pretending to be cool and self-assured and confident and everything else that he's not, why would cater?

"damn it, we're out of cereal." ace groans, slamming the pantry door shut with a bit too much force.

the worst thing about being a great liar?

it's incredibly sobering when you meet someone who is almost as good as you.

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

[evilishei]

Romance dawn trio walk! ❤️💚🧡

[aemondsbabe]

Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.” 

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page. 

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces. 

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more. 

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another. 

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering. 

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board. 

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips. 

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging. 

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned. 

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again. 

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead. 

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat. 

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks. 

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them. 

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?” 

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade. 

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner. 

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.” 

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder. 

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men. 

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers. 

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses. 

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.” 

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter. 

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware. 

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.” 

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him. 

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. 

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering. 

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck. 

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain. 

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves. 

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck. 

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder. 

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt. 

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach. 

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.” 

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister. 

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase. 

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail. 

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place. 

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush. 

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice. 

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window. 

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.” 

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute. 

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?” 

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act. 

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?” 

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth. 

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem. 

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook. 

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?” 

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?” 

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low. 

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket. 

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.” 

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request. 

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you. 

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.” 

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?” 

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“Do you?” 

“Fine, yes.” 

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables. 

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes. 

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone. 

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together. 

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles. 

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?” 

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing. 

“You.” It comes out as a breath. 

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark. 

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.” 

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.” 

“None?” 

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.” 

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. 

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair. 

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his. 

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.” 

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger. 

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands. 

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling. 

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine. 

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.” 

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading. 

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump. 

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly. 

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk. 

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.” 

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric. 

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip. 

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath. 

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat. 

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand. 

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need. 

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit. 

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?” 

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl. 

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table. 

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally. 

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses. 

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric, 

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child. 

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you. 

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud. 

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit. 

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers. 

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open. 

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment. 

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?” 

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance. 

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.” 

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down. 

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.” 

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock. 

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?” 

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock. 

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately. 

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release. 

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release. 

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair. 

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin. 

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things. 

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.” 

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down. 

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat. 

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air. 

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[cyberm4n]

HI I LOVED UR HYPERSEXUAL FEM READER HEADCANONS UR WRITING IS SO GOOD

Soo I'm here to request the vees (mainly vox but idc) x hypersexual Fem reader pleasee 😭🙏

if not that's okay and I hope you have a nice day/night!! feel free to delete this lol

-xoxo, Ari

THANK YOU <3333 i love the vees and ive been looking for an excuse to write them so this is perfect

vees with hypersexul reader

going with the same scenario as last time- you've just finished a round and (char) is spent but you're already ready to go again

《— vox —》

■ he seems like a 2 rounds kinda guy so after that second round and yall are just laying there he is SPENT

■ so when you roll over to lay on his chest like "one more time?" with a little smile on your face, as if yall did not just violently fuck it takes him a moment

■ he's spent, so spent. but he really wants to please you

■ he'd get used to it tbh. like he's mentally prepared everytime now but maybe sometimes he can do a round 3

■ he'd resort to toys i think, only the best for his girl <3

■ there's also something he loves about getting to hold you and watch you writhe in pleasure and he just gets to watch

■ he'd always take your preferences into mind with toys too. like if you want smth specific he's got it for you

■ i feel like he might prefer if yall are spent at the same time so the foreplay goes CRAZY

■ like it's not just foreplay it's actual rounds of getting you to cum before the main event yk

■ or sometimes he'll just ask if it'd be okay to be done for the night when he is

■ he doesn't mind either way but he'd definitely want to communicate about it

■ so yeah it might take him a little bit to adjust bit he'd be just fine!

《— valentino —》

■ okay let's be real this man fucks A LOT so he can probably do like. 3 or 4 lengthy rounds before he's tapped out

■ it's making me giggle about it but like okay val is a kinky guy, and like especially if the first time yall do anything it's a little bit rougher he is SHOCKED when you're down for more

■ he's prly into something like overstim where normally you kinda gotta reel from it after so when he's done and it takes you like. a minute or two to be like "do you wanna do it again?" he judt looks down at you so confused

■ he takes a moment, blinking. he'd definitely ask if you're kidding or smth and then finding out you're not he has to take a moment

■ like, he finds it fucking awesome but jesus christ he's finally met hsi match

■ he might use toys on you or go down on you, depends how he's feeling tbh

■ i think he'd lean towards going down on you, idk he just seems like he'd be a bit of a munch.

■ and if you're okay with it when yall fuck in the future he's constantly just seeing how far you can go before you're spent

■ long story short he's totally chill abt it when he gets used to it and thinks it's fucking great

《— velvette —》

■ okay im literally giggling and kicking my feet while typing this

■ she seems like a 2 or 3 round kind of gal

■ idk femxfem sex doesn't really go in rounds ime but like. yk.

■ so after she's spent, she's like so ready to cuddle up and sleep. but then you're caressing her cheek, nuzzling into her neck. "again?" you murmur and she has to take a moment

■ cause like, she's just super surprised you're still ready for another.

■ she'd ask the most questions abt it. like she'd want to just know more so she can support you better

■ she'd go down on you tho! anytime! she definitely has toys but she seems like the type to be more inclined to eat you out

■ if she gets tired of that she'd use a toy on you. but she stays engaged the whole time, super attentive.

■ she's a service switch so like getting to keep you pleased like this makes her feel good and she doesn't mind at all

■ once again, all of them would embrace it and they do not mind at all!

■ if you guys with the poly hc for the vees i think it just makes it so much better for them to know it's really hard to burn you out

■ i loved this request ty <3

taglist: @reaper-of-light-12 @mxxny-lupin @wisteria-songs @t3llas @concentratedconcrete @pansexual-opera-house @dionysusismypatrongod

taglist form

[revelboo]

I've been reduced to checking your page everytime I open tumblr just to see if there's a new Starscream post (you're feeding my obsession, please continue) (ily and your writing)

Aww! Thank you!

I’m dropping the taglist, since it’s apparently not behaving properly anyway and I greatly overestimated my motivation and ability to remember to monitor and keep it updated anyway. I’m not savvy enough for such things. My unorganized, goblin brain just wants to write.

Everything is Alright Pt 33

Starscream x Reader- home

• Wings trembling as he slowly shifts, he comes out of recharge by degrees, his head rolling forward and he groans as he bumps his helm on something hard. A building? It takes a few confused moments to remember where he is. Why he’s sprawled in the grass. And to feel the spot of warmth in the palm of his hand shift. Optics flicking down he just stares at the tightly curled nest of pillows, blankets, and soft human laying in his upturned palm and tries to figure out how you’d managed that without him noticing.

• What he does notice? The way you’re curled as tightly in a ball as you can get and the fact that you’re shivering from cold. You’d discovered him and still chosen spent the night outside with him even though it’s far too cold for you? Because you’d wanted to be near him. As he curls his servos, you stretch out an arm from your cocoon and grab at him. Like you’re afraid he’s going to leave again and you think you can hold onto him. Venting softly, he curls his servos more firmly about you.

• Shivering in the chill morning air, you lift your head to see him watching you. It’s his expression that pulls at you, he almost looks perplexed like he can’t figure you out. The feeling’s mutual. Why ditch you only to follow and spy on you unless it was some sort of test? Unless he’d been trying to do the right thing and hadn’t really wanted to follow through. “You left me,” you say, hating how sullen those words sound. Like he owes you something.

• “I did.” He lifts you closer to his chassis, cupping you against him until that shivering lessens and you lean into him and his heat. How to explain that it had been to keep you safe, but he was too selfish to just let you go? His little caged bird almost sounds hurt at being freed. Like you think you’d been abandoned. Unwanted. Running a servo over your hair as you lean into him, he tries to think of an excuse, a lie, but can’t. No, doesn’t want to lie to you. “I wanted to protect you.”

• He feels you press your cheek against him and wonders if you can hear the thrum of his spark like he feels your little heartbeat. Does that rhythm soothe you the same way? A now familiar sound you need and search out because it means everything is okay? “Maybe I don’t want to be protected,” you mumble, voice sleepy as you touch his canopy and idly trace spirals on him to make his wings shudder, because surely you don’t understand he can feel that. When he looks down, your eyes are closed. Almost asleep against him, lulled by his heat. “Maybe I just want to go home, Star.”

• Home. The words feel right even as you say them. He stiffens against you, the servos cupping you to him pressing you tighter until you slap a hand on his canopy cause you can’t breathe. He’s staring down at you as you frown right back, too sleepy to figure out what that look is for. It’s cold and he’s warm. Safe. “Home,” he murmurs, shifting you in his grip so he can transform around you and the terror of that smacks you fully awake as you find yourself in his canopy. Willingly going back where you’re not an equal, but you’re needed as hilarious as it is, because this giant, alien robot does need you.

• “That human whose vehicle you got into. A friend?” He asks, watching you flinch and look around trying to figure out where to focus on. Seeing as you chew on your bottom lip in a tell he knows and rumbling around you as his turbines scream. Because you’d gotten into a vehicle with a stranger. Primus help him, you’re far too trusting. You need him to look after you. Warmth spreads through him to mix with the irritation that you’d do something that foolish. You need him to protect you, and he’s willing to fight for it. Even Megatron if need be to keep what’s his.

Previous Next

Early birthday present. I can’t assemble it until Saturday anyway, so that works out.

[tokkiiecloud]

WHB kings reaction to MC simping on a fictional character :

Characters : Satan ; Mammon ; Leviathan ; Beelzebub ; Belphegor ; Lucifer

Satan :

Character : Mortefi ( Wuthering Waves)

who tf is this Mortefi guy?!

You’ve been blushing EVERYTIME you mention him!

It’s pissing him off and asked to know more about this guy

he understood you might have a type on guys who get mad easily

Still growls everytime you mention how cool Mortefi is

Will somewhat agree he is cool, BUT NOT AS COOL AS HIM

Mammon :

Character : Aventurine (Honkai Star Rail)

oh? Seems another rich man took your attention?

Well as rich as he might be he will never be richer than Mammon himself who OWNS everything

The company he works for owns half of the universe and planet

But well, if Master wants him, he’ll do whatever it takes to buy you all the merch!

As long as master is happy :)

Leviathan :

Character : Yuno Gasai (Mirai Nikki)

What did that weird pink haired girl have better than him?!

She’s just a jealous crazy woman, who killed for her lover

How could you love such a woman?!

He glares at you and hangs you until you apologize for liking someone that isn’t him

For your safety do not mention that she acts like Levi just in different fonts and gender

Beelzebub :

Character : Natsu Dragneel (Fairy Tail)

ah? You like another dude that eats a lot, and has a goofy and fun personality

Welp he’s quite chill about it and understand the appeal

I mean your his lover (he delusional)

As long as you just enjoy that dude

He’ll forget about him in a few seconds anyways

Belphegor :

Character : Aizawa (My hero academia)

ok?? He just woke up seeing you excitedly talking about a guy with Beleth

He doesn’t care honestly as long as you’re still his pillow

It starts to get annoying when you continue talking about this fictional dude

Seriously shut it, and stop watching videos and pictures of this guy and come to bed.

Lucifer :

Character : Malleus (Twisted Wonderland)

Interesting.. a prideful drgaon who becomes soft and kind.

He also loves gargoyles and knows a lot of things about them.

Well that’s easy, anyone who does their research can know a lot about a specific subject.

Quite annoying how you keep mentioning how cute and beautiful he is.

And you’d love to be considered he’s loved one—

Okay, now you’ve crossed a line. I’ll have to punish you Child of man.

A/N : I had a hard time to find characters that acted like them but didn’t at the same time and for lucifer I don’t know if Malleus is a good choice I had thought of another character but I forgot about the second one the seconds I was about the replace malleus T-T

Anyways hope you enjoy this weird brainrot lol

[spidrgirl]

MILES MORALES 1610 X READER

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Masterlist: here ➼

Pairing: Miles Morales x sweet girlfriend ᥫ᭡

Synopsis: Headcanons of miles (1610) and his sweet girlfriend who he is absolutely obsessed with and whipped for!

Genre: fluff + slight angst

Word count: 801

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➳ Miles morales loveees quality time with the people who loves, and especially with you. If you arent laid up at his house chilling while watching him play video games, you were probably out exploring the city of New York with eachother.

➳ Miles Morales definitely likes hugs. You know, the kinds of hugs where he can smell your perfume and become so lost in the scent that he'll still be able to smell it when you let go of him. The kind of hugs where your soft and warm body is pressed against his, and he just feels like he's at home.

"can i have one more hug ma? ion wanna let you go yet.." he'll mutter before slowly bringing you closer to him.

➳ Miles morales who is always scouting for you. When he's at school, he's looking through hallways just to get a glimpse of you. during nightly patrols, he swings by your houses and glances into your window hoping to see you peacefully sleeping in the security of your home. When he knows that you are, he finally feels okay.

"Thank god shes alright" He whispers to himself before swinging back around the city.

➳ Miles Morales definitely loves when you plays with his hair. He loves feeling your soft fingers softly massaging his scalp while you tell him all the things you did that day, or just things that you want to do in the future. Whatever it is, he loves hearing it just because *you're* the one talking.

"Mhm, tell me more mama" he'll mumble while slowly falling asleep in your arms.

➳ Miles Morales likes kisses! Kisses on his neck, jaw, or cheeks just make him fold everytime. You can definitely expect makeout sessions to frank ocean or the weeknd playing in the background of his dark room, one of his hands draped around your waist and the other in your hair or cupping your cheeks.

➳ Miles Morales who hates arguing with you. He doesn't like leaving any conversation on a bad note, especially after Uncle Aarons death. He just feels like any moment could be the last he spends with you, so he tries to make the most out of any and every conversation he has with you.

➳ Miles Morales who sometimes has his days where all he thinks about is Uncle Aaron. He comes to your house, enters your room without even knocking with low eyes and a tense body. You immediately rush to him, giving him kisses and multiple hugs while reminding him that his uncle would be so proud of him.

He doesn't say anything in reponse in that moment, but you know he's grateful that he can always rely on you in situations like these.

➳ Miles Morales who sometimes calls you late at night holding back tears, especially when he hasn't had much time to see you because of spidey-business. He constantly goes on mute so you won't hear him sniffling, but you can always tell.

He just misses his sweet girl so much, and feels like he isn't doing enough to make time for her. You always remind him that he's always enough, and forever will be.

"I-I dont know. I just..." he pauses, trying to find the right words to say."I just miss you, that's all. I feel like we dont spend as much time as we should..and its my fault you know?".

➳ Miles Morales who helps you study. Sometimes, you feel really stupid around him. You're smart, but you dont feel like you're smart in the same way he is. It seems like he always knows the answers to everything, while you struggle with answering even the most basic of questions. He reassures you that you are smart, and probably even more so than he is. It doesn't convince you though, so he makes time after school to help you study and do homework with him. Really though, its just an excuse to hang out with you.

"See ma? You aren't stupid. You just need to stop doubting yourself. Podrías ser mucho mejor que yo si simplemente crees en ti mismo." He'll tell you, pulling you in for a hug as he plants soft kisses all over your face.

➳ Miles Morales who gives you the first and last bites of his food. If you have problems with eating, he'll always reassure you that your body is fine just that way it is, and encourage you to eat with him.

"Say ah.." he'll urge, holding a spoon full of the pozole his mother had made just a few hours prior.

➳ Miles Morales will always win the 'i love you more' game. No matter how much you try to argue that you love him the most, he knows that it'll always be the opposite. Its just no topping his love for you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅

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#tags #milesmorales #milesmoralesupremacy #milesmoralesfluff #acrossthespiderverse !!

[majeoeje]

Counting days

Zuko x reader

I hope you never know how much i cried that day

"Just how long has it been??" You giggled as you twirled Zuko around in your arms. Something you had promised to do three years ago as you bid him goodbye.

Well much to his dismay at least.

"Only 3 years, 5 months and 4 days" he said, you could only laugh in response because you weren't actually expecting a definite answer

Zuko looked embarassed not knowing if he gave the right answer, his awkward demeanor still holds up even to this day making an odd sense of comfort wash over you seeing how some parts of him still remains the same.

You guessed it was 3 years, 2 months and 4 days ago that you bid him goodbye. It was before he set sail for his banishment to a search for the avatar, like it was just another short adventure, you smiled and greet him like it was just an ordinary day at the palace. Like it will be a short trip he'll have to endure not for long. How awfully positive you were being gave him a sense of hope that the nightmare he will go through would eventually come to an end.

Your encouragement only fueled the ambition in his heart to burn brighter.

And the light would dim in your eyes watching him go. He may not see himself as talented or gifted. He told you that hard work and effort had made him strong. Though he fails to notice how he was always your light without even trying.

You wished you yourself believed your own words you said to him.

Because much to his knowledge you broke down only minutes after he left.

"Well it felt longer than that..."

You reminiced, trying to take in the moment. You're here on a mission once again in inner rings of Ba Sing Se when you saw him. You thought you were hallucinating again but upon closer inspection, you were right.

It is him.

Zuko. The banished prince of the fire nation. The fugitive. The honorless coward...

...

..Your best friend.

The sentimentality of this moment bear weight heavier than you could ever hold. Though he knows you'd never admit that

"Really? Lee? You can't be more creative than that?" you try to tease him once more

"So? There's thousands of Lees here in Ba Sing Se"

"You look more like a Chen to me"

"Well you're 4 weeks too late to tell me that" he rolled his eyes, looking away slightly. But not enough to hide the smile that had adorned his face

It was more than meaningful to see him smile once more.

You thought after being scarred so horribly by his father. It would took you mountains of blood sweat and tears to see the corners of his lips turn upwards once more. But Zuko always proves you wrong

Because what you didn't realize and never would, you could always make him smile with just existing.

The chilling air blowed past the two of you, signalling for him to bring you somewhere else.

He took your hand leading you somewhere

"Come on, you have to meet uncle now that you're here"

"Did you and uncle Iroh actually opened a teashop??" You perked up, curious at the smell of jasmine tea that lingered from Zuko's apron.

You could always tell that it was one of uncle Iroh's dream to open his own teashop seeing how critical he always of every cup of tea you served to him. Saying how "every tea is to be brewed with perfection" Making those tea lectures that he would go on about much more yawning. But still, you always appreciate it knowing how those tea brewing lessons were how he kept you company in your visits everytime zuko's not around.

"I don't think it's that surprising"

Zuko then went on a rant on how some men who came in their previous workplace just started offering a job, a building AND an apartment in the inner rings of Ba Sing Se to uncle Iroh

The whole situation would only bring you to giggle at how silly it was. Silly, but a blessing nonetheless.

One thing of note was something has tremondously changed in Zuko, was it his more positive outlook? Or was it his more carefree demeanor. Lacking of the boiling desire to prove himself. Perhaps he has truly let go the way of only pleasing his father and just live?

It does bring contentment. But you can't help but feel sorrow washing you away. Because now you guessed he won't feel the need to come back. Come back home to his country....His rightful place as the heir to the thrown.....His coldblooded father.....His dead silent home...

Or perhaps you just wanted him to come back to you.

You were remembered the days at the palace where he'd eagerly lead you to take a look at something he had took intrest to. Whether it was baby turtleducks, a new gift by uncle Iroh or even a new firebending move he learnt.

"Heyyyy, slow down!" You'd whine, feeling him tug at your hand as he ran

"Come on! We're almost there." He'd say, you were always a little out of breath trying to catch up to him as his grip on your hand never faltered.

These detour wouldn't last long however knowing how people would look for him, cutting your moments short. But you never minded. No mattrr how frequent or how short these little quest last. You were just so happy being with him.

Though as you grew up you noticed these little detour would only lessen as years passed. It was understandable really you two were growing up after all and it wouldn't be appropriate for the prince of the fire nation to be holding hands with his childhood friend to show them daily mundane things.

And you yourself were far too prideful to ask him to do it again so you cherish the memories you already had in your heart.

Still.. you never thought you'd miss how the warm skin of his palm would brush again yours. The question along the lines of 'how long has it been' would echo once more in your head, feeling how rough his hand were now....Different to the smooth small hands of little Zuko.

But the warmth still remained the same.

You bit your lip and stayed silent hoping he doesn't notice the tears that was pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision as you heard him rant about his uncle's new teashop filling in the silence.

The cold air of the inner ring of Ba Sing Se suddenly felt warmer. The illuminated night was engulfed in a glaze of sunset hues as your steps on the concrete streets of Ba Sing Se would ring a sound akin to a smooth tiled floor

It was as if you were back at that damned palace again..

It's as if you were kids all over again.

Though this time you didn't have to worry about catching up to Zuko's pace.

(A/N:not an exact timeline bc i was too lazy to do research)

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 5

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 5.5K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent. Graphic deptictions of violence.

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

It had been a good four months since you started surveilling Sylus and maybe three since he had begun to indulge in his own monitoring of you. Now, Sylus craved more. He was no longer content to just watch you from behind a screen. The few occasions he’d been able to see you in person had lit a fire within him and after that night at the club, well a turning point had been met, sparking a need so profound that it couldn’t be ignored. It gnawed at his perfectly maintained control. You’d looked so tempting and responded perfectly to every taunt and tease he threw your way, whether you were aware of it or not. The memory was intoxicating. Everytime he pictured you, he could see the heat in your eyes, or the clenching of your fist. You radiated fury. You were stunning when you were pissed off. The thought of that fury turning to passion sent his pulse racing. 

Now, here he was, parked in the heart of Linkon City, leaning against the leather interior of his sleek black Bentley. The tinted windows provided the perfect cover, granting him a vantage point to watch you without risking discovery. The Hunter’s Association might have called this their playground, but Sylus knew didn’t care. He thrived in danger, danced with it like an old friend, and besides, his own little watchdog was sitting right in front of him, blissfully unaware of his presence.

The cafe across the street radiated warmth in the chill of the autumn evening. Its soft, golden light spilled out into the dusky evening, promising a warm, cozy refuge. It looked inviting. Its patrons nursing steaming mugs,and chatting happily with their friends. It was all irrelevant to him. Sylus’ sharp carmine eyes were locked on you.

You sat by the window, bathed in the golden light of the Edison bulbs, your hair catching the light as it framed your face and your eyes fixed on your computer screen. Your expression was captivating, a subtle furrow in your brow, lips slightly parted and the sharp focus of your eyes. Whatever you were working on, you were completely engrossed. Your fingers moving rhythmically across the keyboard, your concentration completely unbroken despite the hustle and bustle that surrounded you. All of it told him you were working on something important. 

Sylus leaned back slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. There was something deeply satisfying about this - watching you like prey while you remained oblivious to his presence. He figured that this must be the same kind of thrill that you got from watching him so attentively. But you weren’t just prey, he reminded himself. You were too sharp, too driven for that. Still, the idea of you being under his watchful gaze, so unaware, sent a thrill through him and left him thinking about you far too often for his liking. 

Your outfit was simple but endearing - a denim dungaree dress over a white sweatshirt, perfect for the brisk weather. Your bare legs, exposed to the chill, sent his thoughts back to the vision of you in his club. A vixen. Dressed up just for him. That dress - short, daring and tight enough to be a second skin - had nearly undone him. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. His driver didn’t need to see him in that kind of moment of weakness and he couldn't get distracted. Not here. Not now.

He returned his attention to your movements - the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers drummed idly against the table when you paused to think. You were diligent, so focused that the world around you seemed to fade into irrelevance. 

“She’s wasted on them,” Sylus murmured, his voice low and rough with disdain. The Association didn’t deserve someone like you. They didn’t see your potential, your drive, your strength. But he did. You belonged somewhere better - somewhere like Onychinus. His lips curved into a smirk as the thought took root. You’d fit beautifully working under him, perhaps even at his side. The thought of you under his command, working tirelessly to please him, sent a spark of satisfaction through him. You’d thrive in his world, he thought. You’d rise higher than you ever could in the Hunter’s Association, and he would reward you handsomely for your… loyalty.

He could picture it clearly; you in his office, seated across from him, your keen mind focused on the operations of his organisation. You’d argue with him, challenge him, and he’d enjoy every second of it. The image was tantalising, almost too perfect. In return, he’d give you everything, a salary that rivaled any you’d received before, a space at every boardroom table, and of course the finest clothing that money could buy, each piece tailored to fit you perfectly. Only for him to pull you into his office, lock the door and ease you from each expensive layer, discarding the material across the floor so he could take you on his desk, peeling away those layers of sharp professionalism to claim you as his. He closed his eyes and sighed, once more finding the need to reel his desires back in and control himself. 

Sylus sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment to rein in his spiraling thoughts. His hand twitched toward the door handle, the temptation to confront you tugging at him like a siren’s call. How would you react if he walked into the café? Would you stiffen under his gaze, your composure cracking? Would your breath hitch if he leaned just a little too close? The thought amused him, but he dismissed it. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to end this game of cat and mouse - He wanted to see what your next move would be.

Later that evening, Sylus sat in his dimly lit study, the glow from the monitor casting shadows across the sharp angles of his face. The computer displayed everything he had on you, each piece of data he had meticulously gathered and organised over the months he had been researching you. And there was plenty for him to enjoy. 

Your full name glowed on the screen in neat, official letters, accompanied by a wealth of information: hospital records, government documents, your lease agreement, employment contract, and even your social media accounts. The details painted a picture of you that only he had the privilege to see, some details so scandalous that even your friends might not know them. Interesting, that you had protocore syndrome, and an aether core at that too, just like him. The parallel wasn't lost on him. 

He didn’t stop there though. He hadn’t just dug into your life; he had unearthed the hidden layers of your past as well. You had left your hometown years ago, severing ties with your parents - if they could even be called that. They hadn’t been much more than placeholders, offering little in the way of love or support. Sylus doubted they had even noticed your absence. It was no wonder you struggled with attachments - your upbringing had left you adrift, grasping for something to anchor you. He admired your strength for walking away from such a hollow life, but the scars it left fascinated him.

And then there was Noah.

Sylus’ eyes narrowed slightly, the name practically glaring at him from the page. A bland photo of the bland man accompanied it. Everything about him was unremarkable, an average face, average height, average hair colour. He practically screamed beige. Sylus clicked his tongue as he looked at the information the screen presented him with. The only interesting thing about dear Noah was the smirk that rested on his face. And that just pissed Sylus off, he wanted to erase it. 

This was the man you had been consumed by previously? He couldn’t quite pinpoint why the thought had him bristling. He wasn’t jealous, no that would be far too beneath him. Perhaps his issue was more that you had had such poor tastes before your infatuation with him had started. As if somehow, that fact made him and Noah comparable in some way. Or, more likely, it was the way your story with Noah had ended - the ridicule, the humiliation and the pain that had driven you to start over in a new city.

Sylus didn’t hesitate as he looked over the audio logs that he’d been sent. Linkon’s therapy network was terribly protected considering the sensitive information their databases contained -  he’d have to remember that for the future. 

He played the first audio file. Your voice played softly through the speakers, shaking yet determined as you spoke to the therapist. You sounded different to how he imagined, better in fact. Your words were guarded, like you weren’t entirely sure if you should trust the professional sitting across from you. It was smart of you to hold some parts of yourself back, but it irritated him nonetheless, he wanted to know more than you were letting on. 

17 sessions later and and Sylus found what he was looking for. Sylus leaned back in his chair and fixed his sights on the empty one across from him. He imagined you sitting there, telling him the story of your ill fated attraction to the lesser man. 

As he listened, his irritation grew and grew, morphing into white-hot anger that danced under his skin and caused his evol to flare, the energy begging to be released, to crush and maim. He could hear the pain in your voice as you described Noah’s cruel words, your panic and the way his fist felt as it connected with your face. The sound of your teary sniffles filled his ears as you let yourself cry. He turned it off as the therapist began to weigh in on the situation. As far as he was concerned, her opinions were irrelevant. 

Sylus’ fingers tightened on the edge of his desk. He played the recording twice more, trying to gauge the situation, his jaw clenching harder each time. The thought of someone so unworthy of you not only occupying your thoughts but also daring to hurt you? It was unforgivable.

He wasn’t angry at you. How could he be? No, his fury was directed squarely at the arrogant man who had taken your vulnerability and stomped all over it. Sylus wasn’t the kind of man who let things go. He glanced at the time. You would still be safely tucked in bed, out of sight and out of trouble for now. That gave him plenty of time to make a quick trip without you finding out his destination. 

His gaze lingered on the photo of Noah, his irritation morphing into a cold, lethal resolve. This man had not only hurt you but had dared to leave scars that Sylus now carried with him. It wasn’t jealousy, he told himself - it was justice. You deserved retribution, and he would deliver it.

The crisp afternoon air felt sharp against your skin, the waning sunlight casting a warm glow over the crowded streets of Linkon City. The ever-present hum of life filled the spaces between your thoughts as you jogged through the city. Each turn, crack and crosswalk was familiar to you. This was our home afterall, no matter how distant you felt from the ordinary people that filled the streets. You had been jogging for close to 45 minutes now, your mind an endless run of thoughts about your next moves.

The folder containing your Hunter’s Association-provided alias sat on your desk back home. It had been untouched for weeks now - partly because you already knew every detail of it, but mostly because it irritated you. Natalie Moore, they had named her, a runaway from the outskirts of the N109 zone, desperate to escape a debt-riddled family and willing to do anything to start fresh. Natalie was meant to serve as your way into the upper echelon of the N109 zone, to allow you to enter into clubs, meetings, balls and even auctions… by posing as a waitress or a bartender. You scoffed at the thought.

Natalie was limited, small. There was no way that Natalie would get you what you wanted.

The fact that the Hunter’s Association had created such a lowly alias spoke of two truths. Either they had no clue about what a man like Sylus truly needed or wanted or, they had no faith in your ability to get close to someone like Sylus. Maybe it was both. With Natalie you would be forced to scrape along the edges of his world, and report back with whatever scraps of information you could get. Getting to interact with him would be hard enough,  but gaining his trust would be impossible. They could kiss their original plan goodbye.

Yes, you’d completely abandoned their cause by now, but that wasn’t what was important! There was no room for ambition in the Association’s plan - only caution. As if Sylus wouldn’t see through something so shallow, so beneath him. No, if you were going to get close to him, and god you hoped you would, you needed to meet him on his level. You needed to be someone worth his attention. Natalie Moore was definitely not that person. 

Your decision came easily after that. Abandoning the Association’s mission was one thing, but allowing them to know that was another thing entirely. They would know if you used their alias, were keeping tabs on it and tracking the movements made by it, so you had to use it somehow. If they wanted you to be a shadow, then fine. But you would decide what kind of shadow. And you would need another, someone more elite and respectable. Someone in the same social sphere as Sylus, that you could use to finally meet him in person. 

The jog back home seemed easier with your new resolve, your footsteps lighter and less  filled with uncertainty. 

The subdued outskirts of the N109 zone had a very different energy from its chaotic core. The streets were quieter here, less crowded but no less dangerous. The buildings were worn down, their façades crumbling under the weight of neglect and time. The sunset’s golden rays just barely reached this far out of Linkon, the weakened rays leaving a warm glow on the buildings’ crumbling facades. Despite all of it, the cast shadows were just as dangerous as the ones in the centre of the N109 zone, the danger all too familiar. You couldn’t forget that, in this place, the wrong move could get you killed - or worse.

You walked briskly, pulling your coat tighter around you and ducking your head low. You’d dressed practically, blending in just enough with the locals to avoid unwanted attention, but it was not enough to settle your nerves. The outskirts may not have been the heart of the zone, but danger was woven into every corner of this place. 

You jumped as the fluttering of wings broke you from your thoughts. A single black crow perched on a rooftop, its gaze locked on your hurried steps. It cawed, breaking you from your reverie and ushering you to hasten to your destination.

Finally, Axel Kane’s shop came into view. The rusted signage flickered weakly above the door, the neon letters barely legible after years of being neglected. Repairs and More, the sign read. The “more” was what had brought you here. Axel was known as a fixer, someone who could get you just about anything you wanted if you had the money and the patience for his personality. You had both - or at least, enough of the former to outweigh your lack of the latter. You’d emptied your bank of your savings a few days ago, in preparation for…something. You didn’t know what just yet.

You stepped inside, the door creaking loudly behind you making the hairs on the back of your next stand up. The smell of metal and grease hit you immediately, mingling with the faint tang of burnt circuitry. Axel was seated behind his cluttered counter, his cybernetic eye flickering faintly as it focused on you. He looked up from the object he’d been tinkering with, his expression shifting from disinterest to vague amusement.

“Well, if it isn’t the Association’s little puppy dog,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair and fixing you with a smirk. “Y/N! What brings you to my fine establishment today? Need something fixed, or are you here to sulk?” 

Axel was someone you knew well. When you’d first moved to Linkon, your life had been a mess. It was only natural that you’d fallen in with the wrong crowd before you’d ended up at the hunter’s training centre. Axel was somewhat of a friend to you in those times. You’d met him in a bar of all places, one of the most run down establishments you'd ever had the misfortune of being in, but the alcohol was cheap and your worries were mighty enough to require copious numbers of them. 

That’s not to say that Axel was a safe person to rely on however, but at the end of the day you’d gotten him out of a few issues a while back and he owed you a favour.

“Axel,” you smiled, turning on some charm to try and appease him. His eyes flashed with something unrecognisable, was it fear? “I need an alias,” you said, cutting straight to the point.

Axel raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Hmmm, I thought you had your great Hunter’s Association tending to your every need these days, have you had a lovers’ spat and come crawling back to me?” He said in his signature drawl. 

“How did you know about that?” You asked. He levelled you with a stare as if to call you dumb for even asking. “Yes, I’m on a mission but the alias they gave me is terrible! The person I’m tailing is going to see right through it!” You explained. 

Axel huffed out an amused laugh, “So you’ve finally outgrown the Association’s scraps, have you? What’s wrong with good ol’ Natalie?”

You sighed, giving him a look. “Well, since you already know about her, it means others will already know about her. That and she’s nowhere near the type of person I need to be,” you replied, your tone clipped. “She’s not going to get me into the right places.”

Axel let out a low whistle, leaning forward with a glint of curiosity in his gaze. “Big ambitions for someone working for the suits. You sure you want to play this game, sweetheart? It’s a dangerous one.”

You met his gaze evenly, steeling yourself against his questioning and your own worries about your capabilities. “Can you do it or not?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, I can do it. Question is, can you afford it?”

You rolled your eyes, taking out a wad of cash from your bag and handing it over. “You’ll get the rest when I get my alias,” you said. 

Axel looked at you in shock as you handed him the cash. He was equal parts impressed and concerned. “Nah, I owe you kiddo, don’t think I’ve forgotten that. This,” he waved the money in the air, “this will be more than enough.”

With that Axel got to work.

“She’s gonna need a name,” He said, not looking up from the screen as he crafted your new persona.

“Seraphina Bellmont,” you said without hesitation. The name had come to you on the walk over and you were quite proud of it. Seraphina Bellmont. It was elegant and commanding, a name that belonged to someone who didn’t just exist in a room but owned it, commanded it.

Axel let out a low hum of approval. “Not bad. What’s her story?”

“An heiress,” you said, having already put together the minor details you would need to memorise. “Just returned from studying business in Paris and is preparing to take over her family’s weapons business. Wealthy, ambitious, and most importantly well-connected Axel.”

Axel chuckled, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “Now that’s a story. Daddy’s little princess, ready to play with the big boys. I like it.”

The details didn’t take long to flesh out after that. Axel was many things - sarcastic, abrasive, and infuriating - but he was also efficient. He’d earned his reputation fair and square over the years and his work showcased exactly why he was so notorious. He got to work, pulling up files and templates on a screen that looked far too advanced for the rest of his rundown shop. You stood nearby, watching as he crafted your new identity piece by piece.

By the time Axel finished, Seraphina Bellmont was as real as you needed her to be. He handed you a folder filled with meticulously crafted documents - bank statements, business licenses, even a fabricated family history. There were photos of lavish events “you” had attended in Paris, carefully curated social media posts, and a list of high-profile contacts you could name-drop if the occasion required it.

“This is good work,” you admitted, flipping through the hefty folder of information.

Axel smirked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head. “Of course it is. It’s me after all, I didn’t get to where I am by doing the bare minimum. She’s airtight and well rounded. But be careful with this, sweetheart. Just because Seraphina looks real doesn’t mean you are. One slip-up from you, and it’s over.”

You nodded, tucking the folder into your bag. “I’ll manage, Axel.”

As you turned to leave, Axel’s voice stopped you. “You know,” he said, his tone unusually serious, “this is a risky game you’re playing. You sure you’re ready for it? You never know what’s gonna happen when you get involved with this guy.”

You glanced back at him, your expression calm but questioning. “I never said it was a man.” You stated levelling him with a hard gaze before sighing and dropping it. “Regardless, I have to be, there’s no room for failure now, I’m in too deep.” 

Axel nodded once and watched as you turned to leave. He sighed and rubbed his chin as he thought about your conversation. It had been years since he’d last seen you and now you turn up looking for an alias to get you close enough to the most dangerous man in the N109. A man who knew your exact movements yet allowed you to continue your doomed mission. He agreed, you were in far too deep. “Deeper than you know sweetheart.” He muttered to himself as he heard the door slam shut on your way out. 

Walking back through the streets of the N109 zone, you felt the weight of the folder against your hip, a constant reminder of the choice you’d made. Natalie Moore had been given to you, a tool of the Hunter’s Association. But Seraphina Bellmont? She was yours. She was a weapon you had forged and intended to wield to further your own cause.

As you reached the border where the N109 zone ended and Linkon began, your mind was already racing ahead. How you could use Seraphina to get closer to Sylus, closer than the Association could ever hope to get you. How you could walk into his world as an equal, not as a spy hiding in the shadows. You didn’t know if it was the right decision, but you didn’t care. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you were in control. 

A pair of crimson eyes watched as you left the shop and started your journey back to Linkon. Mephisto’s calculating gaze monitored your every movement from its place on the roof of a nearby building, ever present, ever recording for his master.

The streets of Noah’s neighbourhood grew more and more dilapidated as he drove through them. It was a far cry from the polished world of Sylus’ empire in the N109 zone. The flickering street lights cast eerie shadows over the dilapidated houses, their cracked facades and overgrown lawns speaking of neglect. Sylus stepped out of his car, dressed down in a plain suit and cap that disguised his usual striking appearance. 

He couldn’t believe the state of your hometown. Each road, filled with lifeless houses and run down social areas, hell even the park was barren of life of all kinds. How could such a bland place be the birthplace of a spitfire like you? 

Noah’s house was as unimpressive as the man himself, its exterior chipped and weathered. Sylus sneered at the thought that this could have been your future, that in another universe, you were here with Noah, in this shitty little town having his disgusting spawn. It made his skin crawl. Sylus approached the door with the calm confidence of a predator, knocking once and slipping on his practiced, disarming smile. 

Noah’s face was as forgettable as his photo, but the arrogance in his posture was palpable. "Yeah?" he asked, suspicion evident in his tone.

"Good evening, Mr Noah is it?" he asked, his voice smooth and polite. 

“What’s it to you?” Noah responded clearly on guard.

 "My name is Mr Skye, I’m with LTR broadcasting agency,” Sylus began smoothly, his voice dripping with feigned politeness. “I’m doing a piece on human attachment issues. I came across your name from a newspaper article and thought you might have an interesting perspective to share."

Noah blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Am I gonna get paid for this?” He asked briskly

Sylus smiled as he spoke, his tone dripping with honey “Oh absolutely, you’ll be given exactly what you deserve for your input.” 

It clearly didn’t take much to convince Noah,the promise of money was clearly enough to have him accepting. "Okay, yeah, sure. Come in, I guess."

The house reeked of stale beer and sweat, a fitting reflection of its occupant. Sylus sat on the worn couch, his presence commanding despite the shabby surroundings. Sylus took it all in with a quiet distaste, though his expression remained polite.

The conversation began innocently enough, with Sylus asking open-ended questions and Noah happily bragging about his past relationships. "I don’t get attached, you know? Girls always get wayyyy too clingy. It’s a fucking nightmare."

Sylus’ smile didn’t waver, though his hand twitched slightly as he pretended to take notes. Truthfully, Sylus didn’t give a fuck about what he had to say, but it was always fun to play with your prey. "Interesting. And what about that newspaper article I found. It seems you have first-hand experience of a tricky relationship? There was an incident between you and a girl, right?” Sylus pretended to flip through his notes, as if your name wasn’t taking up most of his headspace at that very moment. “Ahh, yes Y/N. What about her?"

Noah’s smug grin faltered for a moment, then it returned in full force. "Her? God, she was a freak, a complete headcase. Yeah you wanna know about people with issues, she had some fucking issues alright!” The more he relaxed in Sylus’ presence the more his answers seemed to flow out of him. “ That freak followed me everywhere, wouldn’t take a hint. It was like she thought we were soulmates or something. Fucking obsessed man!"

Sylus leaned forward slightly, his red eye glowing slightly as he engaged his evol, not forcing the matter, but giving the other man a slight tug to open up honestly. "And how did you handle such an uncomfortable moment?"

Noah hesitated, only slightly. He looked Sylus in his eyes getting caught into the web of his evol and then he continued. "Look man, I tried to be nice, for a bit. But she just wouldn’t stop. I got mad, I guess"

"And hit her," Sylus said softly, the words hanging in the air like a knife poised to strike.

Noah’s eyes darted nervously, but he covered it with a laugh. "Yeah I guess I did, but you have to understand right, she cockblocked me, and anyway attractive guys like us are naturally born to take control of women like that, she needed putting in her place. She fucking deserved it and much worse” 

That was it. The last thread of Sylus’ patience snapped. In an instant, his smile vanished, replaced by a cold, lethal glare. "You and I are not the same,” Sylus stood from his position on the couch and stretched slightly as he prepared himself. “You put your hands on her," he said, his voice low and venomous, "Used brute force against her?” he asked, his tone full of the seething rage inside him. “Was it worth what I’m going to do to you?” The threat was clear in his voice. 

Noah’s face drained of colour, his flight or flight response leaving him to freeze in his position on the sofa. It had only just occurred to him that this man might have been someone worth being scared of. “D-did Y/N send you?” He asked, his voice shaking, betraying the fear he felt.

Sylus huffed out a humourless laugh, “Did Y/N send me? Not even close. Stand up.”

Noah, stood on shaky legs attempting to placate Sylus with his compliance, “Listen man, I don’t get what’s happening here, but I was just defending myself from that freak! You don’t know what it’s like to have her follow you around and completely obsess ov-” 

“It’s a privilege,” Sylus interrupted, “to have even a minute of her attention. You should’ve grovelled at her feet in thanks.” Sylus’ eyes flashed dangerously at Noah’s attempt to explain himself.

He barely had time to react. Sylus moved like a shadow, grabbing Noah by the throat and slamming him against the wall. Noah struggled, his hands clawing at Sylus’ grip, but it was useless, his grip tightened and tightened, cutting off his oxygen, and sneering at Noah’s rapidly purpling face. 

Just as Noah’s legs began to stop moving, indicating his rapid descent into unconsciousness, Sylus released him. A cruel smirk played on his face as Noah dropped to the floor gasping for air and clutching at his neck, coughing. Sylus tilted his head and crouched down to meet Noah’s level. 

"You don’t get to hurt her and walk away," Sylus said, his voice deadly calm. "You don’t even deserve to speak her name."

The struggle didn’t need to last long. Sylus could be efficient and methodical in his dispatching of someone from the world, but he drew out each of Noah's final agonising moments. Each time bringing him to the point of losing consciousness and then allowing him the chance to recover a little strength. Sylus was edging him with his impending doom.

When Sylus finally decided Noah had suffered enough, the man was reduced to a pitiful heap of blood and tears. His face was unrecognisable, swollen and mangled, his neck bruised to a deep, sickly purple. The sight filled Sylus with a dark satisfaction, and for the first time, his smirk softened into something resembling genuine pleasure—a cold, merciless joy that sent a chill through the room. 

“P-lease man, p-please don’t k-kill me. S-she’s just a girl, you can have her! I don’t deserve this” Noah choked out through the blood that oozed from his mouth. It sprayed as he spoke, leaving droplets of red flying everywhere. 

“As if it was ever your choice that I should have her.” The last of Sylus’ patience snapped, he took a step back and allowed his evol to envelop the wheezing man at his feet. The tendrils of energy tightened themselves around Noah’s body as sylus spoke, “You deserve all of this.” 

With that Sylus took a seat on the sofa, far enough away that the upcoming spray wouldn’t reach him but close enough to witness the look of horror cross Noah’s face as he finally understood that he had been sentenced by the executioner himself. 

Noah cried and begged for a mercy that would never come. The energy coiled itself tighter and tighter around his body, until a sickening crunch reverberated throughout the house, the sound of his bones snapping, crumbling under the pressure of Sylus’ evol. His bones turned to dust inside him and the meat that was left splattered over the walls and carpet as the harnessed energy reached its peak. All that remained was a bloodied stain and bits of flesh mapping the position of his final moments. His arrogant smirk had been wiped from this earth altogether.

Sylus sat amidst the carnage, his breathing steady and his mind finally calm. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a brief moment, tipping his head back against the sofa as if savouring the quiet. But the air, thick with the stench of stale beer, sweat, and the sharp metallic tang of what was left of Noah, soured the moment, making his nose curl in disdain. The serenity shattered, he rose smoothly, leaving the house without a second glance. His movements were silent as he slipped into the shadows, his thoughts already moving on, as though the grim scene behind him had never existed.

He felt no remorse, Noah had been a stain on your past, a wound that needed to be cauterised. Now, he was nothing more than a footnote.

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

I feel Sylus is incredibly hot in this chapter to be honest, but let me know your thoughts haha! Thank you so much for reading!

Please let me know what you think  

❥ Like, reblog, comment, message me, ask me something, literally anything - I live for your feedback on this  ❥

[meeludrawz]

Hawks x Reader & Kinda Adopted!Tokoyami

A/N: I saw some tiny comics with Deadpool who thinks he's dating Spiderman, and brought Danny Phantom home with him. So now Spidey's stuck with enduring both of them and I went: That's sounds like Hawks lmfao

It all started when you were chasing a villain around Japan

Somehow, the top hero Hawks was also chasing the same man

As you fought the villain together, Hawks immediately started hitting on you, yes, while fighting

Usually, you'd think this is funny but you were WORKING so it only annoyed you

Once the villain was knocked out, Hawks asked you out

You refused, still annoyed by him

"Well damn, where do you hang out then?"

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, before leaving. "As if I'd tell you"

It took a couple of days before he found you, then again and again

It slowly but surely got more frequent and everytime, you were glad to go back home ALONE

Until one day, you came back from the grocery store and found Hawks chilling on your couch like it was his

And he never left

He's a pain in the ass most of the time but at least he helps with house chores

He flirts a lot with you, which is annoying but you lowkey appreciate his presence

Hawks calls you by many names "Babe, Baby, Bae, Birdie" even if you two aren't dating

You eventually grew used to have a roommate and you do appreciate him but sometimes his shenanigans are just: "Ugh, why don't I kick you out?"

"Cuz you love me"

"No I don't"

"Sure, keep lying to yourself birdie, I'm not in a rush anyways"

Sometimes you did wonder if you were falling for him

The way he spoke, the way he listened to you, the way he gave you gifts, the way he took care of you...

You were starting to accept that maybe you did liked him

Until that one call that flipped your life upside down again

"What do you think about kids?"

"Huh??"

"So this kid, my "apprentice", tried to attack a villain, got knocked out by said villain but I'm so impressed that I'm bringing him back home"

"What no you're not bringing-"

"Cya home babe~"

You were now stuck with a roommate and a kid- Well a teenager but still-

You somehow grew used to Tokoyami faster than with Hawks because he was actually a nice human being who WASN'T DOING SHIT LIKE KEIGO

Anyways, you fought with Hawks about this whole "kidnapped teenager"

"I have brought chaos with me, perhaps I should leave this household" Tokoyami said as he stood up from the couch

"You're fine sweetie, let mommy convince your dad" Keigo, the mom apparently.

"I'm not his-" You facepalmed. "Oh my god"

Somehow, once the anger was gone, you actually liked this situation

Keigo and you were Tokoyami's "parents"

And maybe too quickly, a year passed

"The kid's growing well" Hawks had smiled on your balcony as you and him were watching Tokoyami go to UA

"Sure is, he's gonna be a great hero" You had smiled back

"We're actually good parents" He smirked, still watching the teen walk away.

"Yeah for some reason" You chuckled. "But he mostly lives at the dorms, so we're always the best around him"

"Well, maybe we should try for real this time"

You confusedly looked at him. "What do you mean?"

He grabbed your sides and pulled you closer to him before he gently grabbed your chin with his fingers. "Having a kid" His face leaned closer to yours.

Your face went red but you never pushed him away so his lips met yours <3

And the passion of the kiss felt like fireworks were exploding in the distance.. <3

[yanderefarm]

What happens if we don’t have sex with the yanderes for a long amount of time till there angry about it

🐀

i do feel like i should say that if you just didn't wanna have sex with them they would all be chill with that xhsjdn this is just yknow pushing them? but they're all basically ok with whatever you want and are comfortable with. i feel like that usually goes without saying but idk i wanted to clarify.

cw;; noncon, nsft, self harm mentions, violence towards reader

honestly i can imagine ares and emil being the same. they dont need to worry too much about why you're not having sex with them! they can fix it. they're the type to tie you up. they'd wait for you to go to sleep or maybe drug you so you sleep really deeply and then they'll tie you to the bed. they would both be impatient about it too they want you awake to watch them riding you. ares would be sucking on your cock, being a good cock warmer until you wake up. emil would just have his maids inform him of when you get up so he can save his energy. either way they're going to make sure you fuck them properly. relationship repaired!

i think noemie, nephite, and silvan would be cry babies about it. they're annoyed but it gets to their heads like maybe you don't want them anymore. maybe they're not good enough. nephite would be the most shy about bringing it up but when his heat hits you'll come home to him crying and begging for you to not ignore him anymore. noemie is most likely to try and seduce you, he'll sit in bed with his ass in the air or he'll wear slutty lingerie to try and get your attention until it becomes too much, he'll break down crying asking why he isn't good enough for you anymore. silvan is just going to keep going about his day as usual but it stings everytime he starts to get close to you and you ignore him but he doesn't throw a fit he's more likely to accept that he's not wanted anymore and turn to tearing himself apart inside either for attention or because clearly you're going to replace him.

ajax is weird because i don't think he's ever been deprived sex in his adult life. i don't think he'd know how to handle rejection. i think he'd get pissed off and start accusing you of cheating on him because his brain just can't make sense of you not wanting him for so long. you must be cheating on him and that's why you're not as desperate as he is. either he gets bratty and says then he'll cheat too to make you as angry as he is. or he'll shove you down and make you touch him. he'll start smothering you with his tits and insulting you while he jerks you off.

i think achilles first of all would have to stop both, he can handle no sex as long as you're still using him as an ashtray, so for him to really snap you'd have to completely neglect him. and he'd be getting his head with paranoia. he'd come home early and completely undress waiting for you to return only to get shunned. he'd bring you one of your whips only to be ignored. he'd even wear short skirts trying to get your attention only for you to pretend he's not there. and it's wearing on his mind. he also would assume you're cheating but he doesn't know what to do about it because he's never properly experienced jealousy before. he'd eventually really snap and tie you up but he doesn't know what to do after that. his best is interrogating you about why you don't want him. what did he do wrong?

[shun-nie]

Gojo Satoru x reader x Geto Suguru

->you guys are chilling in your room.

!!!!!reader is a grade 1 sorcerer, Gojo and Geto being fools around you. Fluff, mentions of getting hurt.

"So, how did the last mission go?" Suguru asks, sitting at the floor since an annoying 6'3 white haired dumbass is taking the whole bed.

"It was fine, Utahime cried on me though." Y/N replies with a bored tone, she was reading a book, a book about murder to be exact. Suguru hums and smiles, it was the book he picked while you guys were out the other day.

"Don't act like you don't care, Y/N~ You always comfort her when she cries!" Satoru says and laughs loudly, stickin his tongue out when you glared a him.

"Your point is? You always whine on me and I have to shut you up everytime."

"Hey!!"

"Y/N is right, Satoru."

"You always back them up! It's not fair!!" Satoru crosses his arms and turns his back to you and Suguru.

Suguru sighs and turns his gaze over Satoru to you. Watching you close your book and stand up from your seat, walking over to your bed and sitting next to Satoru who was still laying down with his back facing you two.

"Hey, don't ignore us now. You'll probably give in and talk to us after 5 minutes anyway." Suguru chuckles as he watches you both. Satoru doesn't say anything, you roll your eyes and place your hand on his head. playing with his snow white locks, he told you many times that he likes it when you play with his hair.

"Just beacuse we team up to bully you doesn't mean we don't love you, 'toru." Satoru turned to you quickly, a childish grin on his face.

"So you admit you love me?"

"Yes, I love you."

Satoru hugs you tightly, making you groan and pat his back. Suguru watched the scene in amusement, you're a difficult person. That's for sure. If you loved someone, you would care for them and make them see that you loved and cared for them deeply, but you'd never tell it with words. The first time you actually said that you love and care for both Satoru and Suguru, they were shocked. Never did they thought they would hear those words from you. Suguru smiled at the memory, standing up and prying Satoru away from you.

"Hey!" Satoru glared at Suguru, making Suguru shrug.

"Thanks Sugu'." you said and smiled slightly, Suguru smiled back and sat next to you on bed.

"I heard you got an injury from the last mission." Suguru said quietly, Satoru's eyes widened at the information as he lokks over you.

You stayed silent. It was true you got injured, it was serious too, but you didn't want to tell them beacuse tey would worry.

"That's why Utahime cried, right? She was telling Shoko about how she thought you died beacuse of her." Suguru continued, both of their eyes were on you. You sighed and nodded.

"Why didn't you tell us--" a very angry Satoru started but Suguru placed his hand on his shoulder, making him shut up.

"It was a deep scar, but I was fine. I didn't want you guys to worry about me. So I didn't brought it up." you finally replied, voice calm and steady.

They both frowned at your answer.

"This is literally the fifth time."

"You think it's better if we found out like this?"

"You would actually kill us if we did the same thing but you're doing it yourself?"

"Show us the scar."

"Yeah, show us the scar."

You sighed and stood up, lifted your shirt up to show the scar on your back.

You heard Satoru's gasp and Suguru's sigh. They probably won't let you go out of your room for the next 10 days.

"Y/N. I'm sorry but you call this scar a nothing?"

"This will probably leave a scar."

You could hear their worried tone, you frowned. This is exactly why you didn't tell them. They worry too much.

"Relax, I'm fine. Better than ever." You turned to them, Satoru rolled his eyes and Suguru shaked his head.

"i'M FiNe. No you're fucking not. Get on the bed. You have to cuddle us as a punıshment."

"Damn, chill. Fine, I'll cuddle your nasty ass." you said and sat on the bed, opening your arms as they got comfortable with you in their arms.

.

.

"NEVER hide things from us again." -Satoru

"I agree with Satoru on this one." -Suguru

"Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and sleep." -Y/N

..............................................................................................................................

[bluesgrxce]

Yandere Trainer Red x Reader

[Part 1]

It's fucking cold.

That's the first thought you had this morning. Because it wasn't gentle sunlight that woke you, but harsh chills that had you trembling in your sleep. The damp cave walls and high-pitched whistling wind from outside weren't helping either. For the past half hour, you've huddled near Charizard for warmth. 

So of course it's cold. You live in a cave. On Mt. Silver. During the height of winter. Worst yet, it wasn't like you were forced to be here. You could be sleeping in a warm bed right now, and you definitely would've chose that if it weren't for--

A blanket fell over your shoulders. You peeked around to see Red standing over you. He crouched to your level on the ground, resting a hand on your shoulder. He gazed at you intently.

...If it weren't for your boyfriend, who still made your face heat up everytime you saw him.

"Thanks." You craned your neck at him in confusion. "How come you're not shivering? Like, at all?"

He shrugged dismissively, only pulling the blanket tighter around your body. He was adjusting it until you were comfortable. You smiled in appreciation, but that quickly faded away when another chill washed over.

Charizard's tail swung closer like an offering, attempting to help with its fire. You sighed in relief; Red didn't bat an eye. His reaction made you groan out, "Look... I guess you're okay with this type of weather, since you've lived up here for years. But I still think we need to consider getting a house."

A pause. His eyes bore into you from underneath the brim of his hat, just barely reaching yours, and yet they told you exactly how he felt about that. 

"I know you didn't like the idea before, but everything would be so much more convenient if we did. Maybe we can compromise and get a house at the base of the mountain. You can still train up here whenever you want, but we won't have to worry about the weather and we'll get more visitors-"

He grabbed your hand and firmly held it down. Accompanied by another stern glare, he slowly shook his head no. You wore a stunned expression until his answer fully set in. Once you looked away in defeat, he returned to making your spot more comfortable.

You watched in silence, mouth twisting like a sour taste on your tongue. Moments like these weren't rare. No matter how logical or eloquent your argument was, it always flew over his head. He always shut you down with a single look. 

But even though you were huffing angrily, you knew he still cared about you. It was evident in his cautious and thoughtful touch. He had to have his own reasons for living like this. He had to know something you didn't. Maybe it was for the better that you were with him. 

Or is it? If he loves you so, every word of yours should reach him. He shouldn't be coldly denying you this way. And perhaps he should just explain himself for once instead of leaving you in the dark all the time. 

He wasn't going to. You knew that, and with a dejected slump, you chose not to press him. You were going to sit here and let him do as he pleased. You would be okay with it, because that's what he wanted, and you loved him. 

Because he loved you too. He had to. He just had a different way of showing it. 

Well, you were going to just sit there for him, if it weren't for a familar voice echoing from the cave's entrance.

"Hey, are you guys home?!"

Red grumbled. He left your side to go across the cave and pick up his trainer bag. Charizard perked up once he pulled its Poke Ball out. It got the hint and returned to the Poke Ball, taking the heat with it. You were about to scold him for that until he a calculating expression appeared on his face. It was the same one he used when he was contemplating a battle.

"Wow, love what you've done with the interior decoration..." That sarcastic voice belonged to Blue, who was strutting inside like he owned the place. He examined the area with a smirk. "I guess this is what happens when you leave Red in charge of it."

He was referring to the vast space that was nearly empty besides camping gear.  But what more could one expect from a literal cave?

Still, the snarky comment managed to earn a challenging glare out of Red. He suddenly held Charizard's Poke Ball towards his rival.

You begged, "Please don't fight in the cave again. It might actually collapse on us this time."

"I'm surprised it hasn't already." Blue grinned. "That's not what I came here for, not now at least! There's always time later."

Red put the Poke Ball down. His shoulders were rigid and his glare icy, yet he managed to calmly walk away. He chose to organize his bag instead of paying attention to either of you. 

You rested an elbow on your knee, supporting your face by your fist. You knew he was an introvert, but he didn't have to be rude to every visitor that showed up, especially since you barely got any.

Blue leaned over. "What's with the long face? Mad I didn't ring the doorbell?"

Nevermind. Maybe it was okay to be rude to Blue.

"I wish we had a doorbell." Those words came out louder than expected. Red peeked at you from the corner of his eye. Nervously biting your lip, you changed the subject. "Um, so if you're not gonna battle now, what are you here for?"

He shrugged. "Just to check on ya! You two dorks never come down anymore, so everyone in Pallet Town thought you guys died!"

You were taken aback. "Was everybody really that worried?"

"Eh, that wasn't quite their words, but they were thinkin' it," He said.

"You were thinking it," You said.

"And should I have not?" He didn't bother to pretend, frustration peaking within him. "Obviously Red never visited much, but you used to. So what was I supposed to think? It's the coldest place in the region and Red probably wouldn't say anything if you-"

"I've been super busy, okay? I was planning to come down again for a while now."

Blue narrowed his eyes from being interrupted. You didn't apologize because it wasn't something you regretted- Whatever he was about to say, it would likely piss Red off even more, and that's something you needed to avoid.

He scoffed in disbelief. "Oh yeah? Like when?"

"Like... Um..."

Only now did it occur to you that he was right. You tried to go see your old friends every few weeks, but it was months ago when you last left the mountain. No wonder he thought you were dead.

Where did all that time go? What were you doing when you could have been catching up with people?

Your gaze subconsciously landed on Red, who was still distracting himself. You winced in guilt, not even wanting to consider blaming it on him, but he was seriously the only person you've seen these past months.

...He wouldn't mind a little break then, would he? He shouldn't mind. It's not like you were forced to be here, after all. 

You stood up, allowing the blanket to fall off your shoulders. "Like right now. I might as well go since you're here."

Red spun around. Every other word went straight through him, but those ones hit him hard, and it was crystal clear in his seething look.

"Good choice," Blue said. "I was gonna force at least one of you to leave with me anyway."

Ignoring his smug attitude, you began preparing yourself for the journey ahead. Another chill ambushed you as you gathered your supplies. But it wasn't from the cold. It was from Red's stare across the cave. You froze. 

He was silently judging your decision. Silently disapproving with a deep frown that shoved you into further guilt. Your head hanged low to avoid eye contact.

Blue quirked an eyebrow at the exchange. He crossed his arms and sent an irritated gaze back at Red. "What's your problem? It's not like we're stopping you from coming too!"

His only response was a grunt. He marched forward until you were in reach, tightly wrapping an arm around your waist. It's like he was challenging Blue again, but not to a Pokemon battle this time.

Before the situation got any worse, you whispered in Red's ear. "Listen, it won't take long. I'll just let everyone know we're okay and get some stuff too. Aren't we running low on food?"

He didn't seem to be listening until that last part. After a quiet moment of reflection, he hummed in defeat. It would be hopeless to argue since you were right.

"So are you guys finally settled?" Blue chimed in.

You looked at Red expectantly. He looked back at you hesitantly. It took a bit, but he eventually huffed and peeled himself off your body. Then you told Blue, "Yeah. I'll be ready to go in a bit."

"Fine by me! Meet me outside the entrance!"

He left the cave and you could finally continue gathering what you needed without feeling judged. The last thing you had to do was pass by Red to grab your trainer bag, which was left right next to his. You threw it over your shoulder and said, "I'll be back s-"

But he was already walking away.

You were in awe. No words came to mind, just geniune shock at the cold shoulder. You could only stare at him like he was far, far away when physically it was a mild gap at most. But emotionally, that's where he was. Distancing himself as far as possible.

Was he going to do that every time you leave from now on...?

It didn't feel like there was anything you could do, so you just let him be. You set off the mountain with Blue and naturally, it didn't take long for him to speak up. Naturally, it was so he could tease you. 

"You know you don't need his permission to leave, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "Obviously." 

"Obviously, huh? 'Cause it sure seemed like you forgot for a second back there. How are you gonna let him tell you what to do when he doesn't even talk?" He laughed tauntingly.

It was hard to tell if it purposely, but somehow, he was making sense. At least enough sense that it made you defensively turn away. "He doesn't tell me what to do. I like being with him and he likes this mountain, that's all there is to it. Why can't you understand that?"

"You know what I understand?" His tone was suddenly argumentative. "That he shouldn't be isolating you up here and getting all pushy when you try to leave. Childish, really!"

"Oh, so now you can talk about being childish?" You retorted, "And he isn't isolating me. He let me leave today, right?"

"Today, he did. But will he tomorrow? Or the next? Or the--"

"You're looking too deep into it. Don't think about it."

Because you certainly didn't want to. You'd have to question everything your relationship was built on and it was your whole life at this point.

Blue only smirked. "Somebody's gotta. And if you're not gonna tell him like it is, then I will!"

"Don't embarrass yourself like that," You groaned.

The topic ended there. Other miscellaneous conversations happened along the way, but none of them would stick with you quite the way this one did.

× × ×

(This was my first time writing for a non-verbal character, so gimmie criticism if you have it.)

You love Red so much that you read fanfiction about him. I love Red so much that I would live in a cave just to be with him. We are not the same

Btw were any of you aware that Charizard is only 5'7? The height of a human being? Even though Charizard is literally a dragon? Short king I guess but like,,, Why was I not aware

[xzinbdg]

YO WHAT?

- ur so pretty

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʏ/ɴ ᴍᴏᴠᴇꜱ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴀᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱʜᴇ ɪꜱ ᴡᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴜᴘ ʙʏ ʟᴏᴜᴅ ᴀꜱꜱ ɢᴜɪᴛᴀʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴏᴏʀ.

written part: 763 words.

warning: some people may find topics said here a bit unpleasant.

it felt kinds surreal to you that right now in this moment you're getting ready for a dinner and potentially a heart spilling session with your neighbor wonbin that not that long ago was your biggest enemy. nonetheless you all ready actually go to his door which is like 3 steps away from yours and knock. it takes less then 3 seconds for you to hear footsteps to the door.

"hi" says wonbin and just looking at him this close and hearing his voice makes your heart do a full flip and leave that weird tingle in your stomach. "hi" you reply visibly red. "come in, make yourself at home" he moves slightly to let you come in. to be honest his apartment is what you imagined it to be. it's very clean and organized but at the same time gives off that almost angsty teenager vibe. you can tell that he's into music just from one look. "i'm not done with the cooking yet, so you can just chill whenever you want to" he says giving you a slight smile. "okay would here be okay?" you pointed at his kitchen island with high chairs. "sure, you wanna watch me cook?" he said with a cocky smile. "wanna make sure you don't poison me" you match the energy and wonbin just laughs, he goes to the kitchen to continue cooking and you sit by the counter. you're only seeing his back but that doesn't stop you from admiring him and just how attractive his whole being is. "so.." he starts still focusing on cooking "wanna talk about your shitty day?" you're snapped back to reality "huh..oh sure" he turns to you "start whenever you're ready, i'm here to listen" with that he gives you a reassuring smile and turns back to cooking. " okay so...i will start from the beginning..." you start and he hums in response letting you know that he's listening. "back in school i met this guy, he was one of the popular guys in school and almost everyone and they're mom knew him. i wasn't all that so i didn't think we would ever have the chance to talk, that's until we were paired up for a project. he didn't slack off how i thought he would because you know popular guy and all. we finished the project with me having feelings for him. obviously i thought that we would not talk after the project was over but surprisingly he still talked to me almost everyday at school. that led to him texting me and us meeting outside of school and that led to us dating. he was an amazing boyfriend at the start..." "that's until he wasn't huh?" wonbin said. "yea, after about a year and a half of us being together i found out that he was seeing another girl for almost our whole relationship." you let out a sigh. "what a shit stain" wonbin scoffed which made you give out a little laugh. "now I can agree but me then thought the fault is mine. i decided to talk to him about it and what I heard broke me. he said that he was with me because of a bet, that he would never be with someone like me. he said that i'm the ugliest girl he ever saw and that im so boring it actually makes him sad. he also said that he didn't cheat because he never liked me to begin with and our relationship was fake. it might have been to him but to me everything was real, it hurt so much to see what i thought was my love act this way and think of me like that. it made me feel like i was nothing, my self esteem was nonexistent. it took years to build it up again. i still have scars from him though, everytime i find someone i like i hear his words in my head and fear that the person i like will be like him." wonbin turned to face you. " is that why you had a shitty day? do you like someone?" this made you a bit nervous because the person you like is in front of you. " maybe? im not sure yet..." wonbin smiled now giving you a plate with pasta and chicken. "thank you for trusting me with this, i'm basically a stranger to you but know that you can always turn to me if you need something, i'm only a door away." this made you giggle. "and also know that you're so pretty and unique that you don't have to worry about that assholes words, he doesn't know what he lost." now you started to blush. "t-thank you for listening and for the compliment." you said now taking a bite of wonbins cooking. you let out a surprised gasp at the taste. "do you like it?" the curious boy asked. " this is amazing wonbin!" he let out a laugh at your surprised face. " I'm glad you like it."

previous ✮ next ✮ masterlist

a/n: andddd we have our "villans" they might be important or might not be important 🤭 wonbin very much falling 🤧

genre: smau, crack, strangers to enemies to lovers, boy next door!wonbin, neighbors, band au

pairing: guitarist!wonbin x reader

taglist: @p-d1ddy @wiggledingle @pxnklover @pinklemonade34 @cherrytaesan @soheendo @jiaisfox @i03jae @yoonyunsoob @wonychu @nujeskz

[fragileruns]

oops hehe sorry i got super excited i forgot to give a plot line!!! as for plot, could we get smthing where reader is the complete opposite of tangerine (shy, timid sweetheart) and yet he’s still so drawn to her so he starts to routinely visit the place she works at (book shop, cafe, wtvr u want) and she has a bf who’s not the best to her n takes advantage of her kindness and trust, so tangerine helps her n talks her thru standing up for herself and even teaches her self defense just in case. tan starts to fall for her more n more and sees her as smthing precious, and reader is so captivated by this sexy intelligent man. n then one day tan is chilling at the cafe drinking coffee and reading (basically guarding her bc he’s protective hehe) bc she decided she was gnna break up w her bf and then when said bf comes in and she tries to end things, he starts getting aggressive and causing a scene so then our sexy tan just steps in all casually and shuts him down real fast and then that’s when reader’s heart skips a beat bc she realizes she likes tan (and tan may actually like her too) and so tan kicks ex’s ass to the curb and then checks on reader and calls her his “little badass” since she used her self defense on her ex when he tried getting handsy with her.

basically just some cuteeeeee fluff with some witty banter and unrequited love at the beginning but watching it grow into smthing more <3 thank again love

hi! sorry this isn’t exactly what you wanted but i didn’t feel patient enough to make it into a long fic, and i didn’t want to trigger anyone by adding actual abuse in here so i switched it a bit! let me know if you want something redone but hopefully it’s still good

tangerine x reader. content warnings: mentions of violent tones & the guy pushes tan but that’s it, cussing, female!reader, i didn’t realize how off i had written this until it was almost done so i’m sorry please rerequest if you’d like me to retry!

Tangerine was currently sitting in his usual seat, one right to the side of the counter you were working at. It granted him the best possible view (you) as he drank small sips out of this coffee cup, ‘reading’ the book in front him. Really, he was much more focused on watching you work.

He had been here for well over two hours and usually, he would have forced himself to leave by now. There was only so long he could stay without causing suspicion. Even when it was you - poor, oblivious you who couldn’t seem to realize that the only reason he ever came in was to see you.

However, after finding out about your asshole of a boyfriend from eavesdropping on your conversation (you were standing right beside him on your break, and how was he meant to ignore the insults being thrown at you when they were so blatantly untrue?), he had decided to make a bold step and tell you that you needed to stand up for yourself. Ever since then, you seemed to continuously have new questions about how to go about it since.

You opened up to him once, just a few days ago, about how you wanted to leave your boyfriend, how you were tired of feeling torn apart everyday, but you were scared. He had never been directly violent to you, but he was a strong guy, and you weren’t sure how he would take it. You didn’t want to become a victim. So, Tangerine had quickly suggested doing it in a public place where there were more people around to make sure you were alright. When you still didn’t seem sure, he asked if it’d help if he was there. You said yes.

So, he was spending the day at the cafe, the both of you waiting for your boyfriend to walk through the doors. You were nervously glancing up everytime the bell rang, and Tangerine desperately wanted to rub soothing shapes onto your back and tell you it would be alright. But, sadly, it wasn’t his place to do so.

After another few minutes of rereading the same sentence, the man Tangerine recognized from the last time he saw him in the shop with you walked in. He seemed in a fairly okay mood, or at least, he showed no outward signs of being upset.

Tangerine was instantly more alert, noticing the way you sucked in a breath and told your coworker that you’d be going on break, and he watched both you and the man as discreetly as he could. He could vaguely hear the conversation going on, and nothing seemed wrong at first.

You had given the man what seemed like a sympathetic smile, and from the way you were moving your hands around while you spoke, and from the way the man’s expression shifted to one of anger, Tangerine could assume you had told him it was over. He didn’t move though, smart enough to know that going to be by your side wouldn’t help matters any, not until he saw your now ex-boyfriend’s eyes flash with something ugly, hand raising.

That was when he jumped up. Reasonably, he didn’t think the guy would do anything even slightly violent in such a public space, but he didn’t want to take the risk. He wedged himself in the space between the two of you, his back facing you as he reached a hand back to grab onto your arm.

“You alright, love?” He asked, head tilted slightly back to look at you as you nodded, though he could feel how tense you were.

“Who the hell are you?”

Tangerine finally turned to acknowledge the man in front of him at the question, and his face hardened from the soft expression he had with you.

“None of your business. You should really get away from ‘er, if you know what’s best.” You were still hiding behind him, eyes filling with concern as your boyfriend only got more angry.

“She’s my girlfriend. Our conversation doesn’t concern you.”

“Ex. Ex-girlfriend.” You finally spoke up, your voice still soft and timid despite the spite that your words held. Tangerine felt proud, and he squeezed your arm to show as much.

“See? The lady doesn’t seem to want you here, so why’re you still hanging around? Go on.”

“Stay out of this.” The man was only getting more riled up, nose flaring and stepping closer to Tangerine. Clearly, he didn’t know who he was talking to. The thought made Tan smirk slightly, but it made you (who vaguely knew of Tangerine’s strength and abilities from the stories he had told you, though he still changed them as much as he could as to not scare you off) shake in place.

As soon as your ex boyfriend tried to push Tangerine out from in front of you, failing at even making him budge, you reached out to grab your friend’s arm. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, and you didn’t want to cause a scene - or more of a scene - in your place of work. Luckily, the few customers that were there had mostly filed out onto the street and your co-worker only stood close by enough that she could break it apart if anything should happen.

“Tan, it’s okay. I can handle this,” you spoke in your sickly sweet voice, and that and the feeling of your tender grip on his arm was the only thing holding him back from throwing the man against the nearest wall.

“Can you just - please go? I’m not going to change my mind, and it’s not going to be good for either of us if you stick around. So just go. Please?” Your attention turned to the other man, less kindness in your eyes now, and he only scoffed with an eye roll.

“Whatever. You’re not worth this shit anyway.”

What an idiot. Tangerine thought as the man walked out, and he only calmed down once he was out of sight and he could turn to you.

“I was handling it, y’know. You didn’t have to come in all… you-like. I would’ve been okay,” you sighed and Tangerine would’ve thought you were upset with him if it wasn’t for the concern in your eyes and the fact that you were still holding onto his arm. He made sure not to draw attention to that, not wanting to risk you pulling away.

“You think I was going to even slightly risk him hurting you?” Tangerine questioned as if you were insane, using one hand to reach up and brush a stray hair out of your face, needing any excuse to touch you. “Are you okay? D’you want me to take you home or anything? I’m sure if you explain, they’ll let you clock out.” He threw a glance over to your co-worker, who was kindly pretending not to notice the almost disgusting lovefest that was going on between you two (not that either of you could really view it that way, since you had just become single.)

“Um - actually, yes. Please. I don’t want him to come back after you leave.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving, but of course. Get your stuff, I’ll wait outside.” He gave you a small smile, squeezing your shoulder right before you walked off as he gathered his own things, and went to stand outside by his own car as he waited for you.

Once you come out, he turned to face you, frowning at the expression on your face. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I just - thank you. For intervening. I know I said I could handle it, but thanks anyway. You’re a good friend.”

“I’ll always protect you, love. You’re my favorite girl,” He grinned and stepped forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, reaching down to grab your bag and throw it over his shoulder.

“I’ve just never really had someone on my side like that, and it felt nice.” You admitted, appreciative that he chose to ignore the flush of your cheeks after his innocent kiss.

“Well, now you do. And, since we’re being honest here, I really wish you would stop telling me what a great friend I am.”

“What? Is that - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” you rushed to apologize, even though you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. You were friends, right?

“No, don’t - I didn’t mean it for you to apologize. I mean, I like you. I thought that was obvious?” Tangerine seemed genuinely confused, as if everyone knew this fact, but you were almost jaw-dropped.

“It - uh, it wasn’t. You like me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, choosing to open up the passenger door and gently set your bag in the floorboard to hide away from the rejection he was about to face. He was such a confident man, yet was reduced to nerves just by being around you. “Sorry, I just thought you knew. I didn’t mean to make this weird.”

“It’s not. I just didn’t know,” you say quietly, looking like you were off in another world as you thought over things. Was that connection you felt with him shared this whole time? Did the way your stomach fluttered around him mean you liked him, too?

“Do you still want me to give you a ride home? I can call you a taxi, if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“No, no - I’m sorry, I-” you shake your head quickly at his offer, reaching out to grab his arm and then dropping it like it’s burned you. “I think I like you, too.”

He grinned, then, and his head tilted slightly. “Think?”

“Yeah, I mean - I don’t think I want to be with anyone right now, seeing as I did just get out of a relationship with-”

“The most vile man alive?”

“A not great person.” You finished, and Tangerine only chuckled. “But, I do like you. And maybe, if you’re willing to wait a little while, we could… you know. Be more than friends.”

Tangerine looked down right merry, and when his hand reached up to cup one side of your face, you leaned into the warmth almost embarrassingly fast.

“I would love to be more than friends with you. But, by the way. We’re going to have to talk about you having more of a back bone. Like - all those please go’s to him? Babe, I know how much of a fucking badass you are, you should’ve kneed him in the sack.”

“Maybe next time.”

[chillinglikeashilling]

Pilot Program Band AU

Some background: I'm still thinking about Meet Me @ The Altar and which of their songs best fit each member of the pilot program, and I just remembered this absolutely fucking stellar reincarnation AU Yu Yu Hakusho fic (Find Me Through Your Reprise by SZFiction) where Kuwabara and Yusuke get together due to Kuwabara making Yusuke mixtapes and introducing him to his favorite music and then ends up being reincarnated as rock star.

So Sam and K stay in touch more thab they did in canon before getting to Gowpenny.

They have their pink pals thing but when K starts leaning away from this they both decide to lean pop punk instead of emo. I'm especially picturing Sam with Edith's (mm@ta) fantastic hair do's from various shows.

They get really into pop punk music and they start writing and playing together online as a way to maintain that closeness. K plays base and Sam does the majority of vocals.

K writes alot of the songs but doesn't like singing because everytime they go to sing they can't stop themselves from leaning into this Disney princess vibe and the entire reason they stopped the pink pals thing was the discomfort that was caused as their magic began to start manifesting. Not enough to be obvious but enough to make K uncomfortable for reasons they're not sure of.

Sam and K are doing covers and posting them to a YT channel K made them. Sam's magic is also starting to manifest at this point, she's magnetic, they're magnetic. Their fanbase doesn't jump to the thousands over night but the fans who find them, who their music resonates with, are locked in.

They both start taking this more seriously and they realize they need a drummer.

Jammer is still doing basketball but he also fucking loves drumming. The feeling of nailing a cover is almost as good as the feeling of winning a game. And sometimes when it feels like he's being pulled in too many directions, he can just put in his earplugs, focus on keeping the beat and let the rest of the world fade away.

One of his teammates shows him a video from K and Sam's YT and it's like a switch flips. There's an instant connection to the two of them, he listens to all their covers and the original stuff they've put out and e-mails them to ask about being their drummer.

Sam and K get this email and watch a video of Jammer playing, and he's really good. Also he seems very chill and I think maybe both of them are a little weary of a guy coming into this thing they created to remain close and not fitting or trying to throw his weight around but even with just the email and the video - there's just something about Jammer that's reassuring. Plus he mentions he has older sisters so the three of them agree to try it out online at first.

Things go pretty well. It's hard making covers from three different cities/states but they manage with the magic of the internet. And things go so well they decide to arrange a meetup so they can record some covers and the new song K just wrote in person.

Another switch flips. Jammer has always been great but there's something about being together, being able to see each other or learning to be comfortable in each other's spaces, and suddenly the synergy is off the charts.

The stuff they filmed/recorded during that one trip is enough to really start to put them on a map and they start booking small shows here and there. Nothing too much because Jammer still has basketball but they can book stuff in the cities he does away games in and that helps.

Evan Kelmp is largely the same lonely, angry, cursed teenager that he is in canon. He still has the shadow, and the fights in gas station parking lots, and the wish that he could just be normal.

And he almost feels normal when he's listening to the music from this band one of the older teens at his last group home introduced him to. They were kind enough to give him their old Zune with a bunch of stuff loaded onto it. Obviously none of the members have his specific brand of issues but their lyrics speak to his lonelines, his self loathing and confusion. The stuff that's still there even when the demons are quiet for once.

Evan gets a text from that same teenager telling him that the band he loves is going to be playing at a show in some local guy's basement and he's almost too afraid to push his luck. Surely actually going to that show will break the illusion that he can have this one thing, but then he goes anyway because how can he not. And it's so good and he gets to actually talk to them after the set and say how much their music means to him and they're so kind and warm (and the last switch flips).

Anyway a week later all four of them get a letter and a pellet from a weird ass bird, wild.