#then again. if it's not good when it's finished what's even the point?

[unpopularly-opinionated]

So you believe that Boeing paid off the family juuuuuust enough to get them to say that he wasn't assassinated, but not enough to stop them from saying "Boeing is responsible for his death and should be held responsible for their grotesque conduct that drove him to suicide?"

I guess I should've been more clear when I said Boeing "paid off" the bereaved family, that's on me I guess, but I didn't mean they paid them off in the same sense that you'd pay off a cop. If it even transpired, it would more than likely go something like: "Hey, we feel really bad about the tragic loss of your son who definitely for sure killed himself, so uh, here's some money for your loss. See, we're the good guys in this! Please don't point fingers at us."

Or alternatively, they could've not been paid at all. Both are just as likely and explain why the family might still be pointing fingers. It wouldn't have been hush money, more like a gift meant to ingratiate them as an innocent party that obviously didn't work (again, assuming it even happened).

The evidence you have is an apparent belief that money has evil-gravitic properties, and anything bad that happens must have originated with the closest concentration of money.

Not anything, no, just the ones where Occam's razor applies. Again, which is more likely, a hundred billion dollar company who are active agents of shady, illegal business practices had both the cause and the means to have someone with information dangerous to their company killed and covered up... or that the guy who was about to testify with said-dangerous information just up and decided to end it all right before the finish line?

You seem to be under the impression that money holds little to no power which is as amusing to me as it is grossly naive.

By your standard, is there any evidence that is not hearsay? Because the evidence is "all of the evidence," and I appended the assessment of the family to pre-empt the accusation it was all made up evidence. What evidence does not count as hearsay?

To reiterate, I don't have any evidence that he was killed, nor did I ever claim to. But the evidence that he killed himself is the hole in his head and the "trust me bro" we get from the cops, which is the same exact kind of evidence that we got from Epstein's supposed suicide as well, just a man hanging in his cell and a "trust me bro" from the cops.

Now, is this me saying that we should question whether or not every suicide by gunshot/hanging is legit or just actually a covered up murder? No, obviously not. Again, I'm just applying Occam's razor here. Joe Blow who lived an average life before deciding to end it all probably wasn't secretly murdered. But the guy with information that could harm a lot of really powerful people, who is in active pursuit of revealing that information to the proper authorities, decides to end it all just before the finish line? You can't reasonably argue that it's not the least bit suspect.

The rest of us know Epstein didn't kill himself because we observe facts about reality and observe when they do and do not align with a conspiracy or cover-up.

You know, I don't mean to be rude, and what I said about you being naive about money was rude, so I apologize. But if not money, you seem to think that maybe only politicians or political figures have the modicum of power necessary to have someone killed and cover it up.

Like let's just examine your admission here: You've admitted that the circumstances surrounding Epstein's supposed suicide were suspect enough to justify questioning it's legitimacy. You admit to this despite the fact that he was in prison and under close watch by guards and cameras. Which, mind you, I agree with. But you're telling me that someone in those circumstances was somehow murdered, and said-murder was then covered up?

So then explain to me how exactly it's so unbelievable that a dude not in prison, not under watch by guards or cameras, was murdered in his car and then covered up as a suicide? How was one dude with dangerous information under total security and surveillance mysteriously killed and staged, but the other dude with dangerous information with no security or surveillance probably just killed himself?

This isn't the hill I'm prepared to die on, but sure, maybe he did kill himself. But then again, maybe Epstein actually just killed himself too.

Remember earlier this year when Boeing very clearly had a whistleblower executed? And law enforcement didn't even look for anyone or release any info about it or anything?

People keep comparing Luigi Mangione's case to the subway murderer who got off because of systemic eugenics, but I think there's something more apt about the fact that a CEO had someone executed in recent memory, with zero attempts to find a culprit, while they spared no expense at all to find (and probably frame, it's beginning to look like) someone who shot a CEO. It's always fine to slaughter if you're rich, but if you kill the rich, they will hunt you down.

[sailorluna15]

what about pitfighter vi who wants nothing to do with virgins because she thinks they get too attached, and then reader is a virgin but vi really wants to fuck her anyway

"Come on, you're telling me you like used goods?"

Vi rolls her eyes and takes a swig of her beer.

"It's not used goods. I like a woman who knows what she likes and doesn't get too attached. Virgins get one taste of you and fall in love. I'm looking to fuck, not get married."

"You're thinking about it too much! It's kinda fun when they get attached. They're like little puppies."

"Nah, I'd rather stay away from that shit. I don't got time for the puppy attachment bullshit. I'm good.

That's how Vi felt until she met you.

Vi walks into the club and scans around for a nice piece of ass. She walks further into the club and sits at the bar. Waving the bartender down, he slides her a drink that she knocks back in a second.

She looks around again and spots you. Immediately, she knows who she wants to fuck tonight.

When she sees you, you're spinning upside down, naked, with your legs split in the air. Your bikini top, G-string, and dollar bills lay thrown across the stage as you dance. You look mesmerizing and delectable.

Vi walks over to the host and requests a lap dance from you.

After you finish your set, the host tells you Vi wants you. She points to the room Vi's waiting for you in and wishes you good luck.

You stalk towards the room and open the door with a smile.

"Hello, Vi?"

She nods and stares at you like a predator checking out its prey.

"Thank you for booking a dance with me. Do you want anything to drink before we get started? I wanna make sure you're comfortable." You say flirtatiously.

She shakes her head no and allows you to begin the dance. It feels like the entire world has disappeared as your bend over and shake your ass in her face.

When you turn back around to grind against her again, your faces come so close that your noses touch. The energy between you two is magnetic. As you two continue to breathe each other in, a knock comes to the door, signaling the end of the dance.

"I guess times up, huh?" Vi whispers.

"Yeah."

Silence passes by before you speak.

"My shift is over in 10 minutes if you wanna take this to my place.

Vi contemplates your offer, before agreeing.

"I'll be at the bar waiting."

A small smile graces your face as you both leave the room.

The host approaches you with a knowing look.

"Did little Ms. Emo Girl enjoy her lap dance?"

"Very much so. We're about to take it to my apartment." You say sweetly.

With a loud laugh, the host says, "Okay, girl, get you some! I want to hear all about it tomorrow."

"Oh, trust me, you will!"

You both wave your goodbyes as you walk to Vi and leave the club with her.

The air is filled with anticipation as you both make your way to your apartment.

Finally, enter your apartment and immediately jump on each other's bones.

Vi kisses and sucks on your neck as moans flow out of your mouth.

She quickly drops to her knees, removes your panties, and immediately starts to devour your pussy.

Loud groans fill the air as she sucks on your clit and sticks her tongue in your pussy. She sticks two fingers into your pussy and fingers you as she continues to eat you out. Vi stands up and leads you to the bedroom. She manhandles you onto the bed and starts to unbuckle her pants.

"Wait...wait." You plead as you put your hands on her belt buckle.

"I've...I've never done this before."

Vi laughs in disbelief and says, "You joking, right?"

You avoid her eyes and shrug your shoulders.

"Oh my God, you're serious. You're a fucking virgin."

"It's not my fault! I've...I don't get out much."

"You're literally a fucking stripper! How are you still a virgin?!" Vi exclaims.

"Me being a dancer has nothing to do with having sex or my virginity! It's a job just like any other and has nothing to do with my personal life." You say defiantly as you lean back on your hands.

"You know what? I don't even fucking care. I just wanna fuck. You take strap or what?" Vi asks with a raised brow.

"I mean, I...I guess. I've always wanted to try it." You whisper out shyly.

With a hum, Vi drops her pants and underwear simultaneously, revealing a thick 8-inch purple dildo attached to the strap.

"Is that gonna fit?" You question nervously.

"We'll find out in a few seconds, won't we? You got lube?" Vi responds

"It's in the first drawer."

Vi leans over, opens the drawer, and grabs the lube. She squirts it on the dildo and lines herself up with your pussy.

"You ready?"

You nod and relax as Vi slides inside you.

"Fuck." You breathe out.

Vi slowly fucks you until she feels you get comfortable.

"Go faster."

Vi smiles and quickens her pace. She lifts your legs, presses them to your chest, and fucking you deep into the mattress.

Moans, groans, and curses fill the air as Vi takes your virginity.

"Damn, your pussy's so tight. You wanted this bad, huh. Fucking whore."

"I'm a whore." You whine out as you clutch Vi's arms.

You feel a sting on both of your asscheeks as Vi delivers a slap to them.

"I love a girl who knows what she is."

Vi begins to rub little circles on your clit as she drives her hips faster into you.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"Go ahead and cum. Cum on my dick." Vi grunts out.

One, two, three thrusts, and you unravel. Your body shakes as ecstasy overcomes you.

"Oh my God, I've never come like that in my life." You say with a heavy breath.

Vi chuckles as she removes the strap from you and helps you clean up.

After she helps you clean up, she heads towards the door. You quickly chase after her.

"Wait!"

Vi turns around with a raised eyebrow and an expectant face.

"What's your number? I wanna do this again sometime."

"555-876-0982. Don't expect a relationship, though. I'm strictly here to fuck."

You quickly write the number down and nod your head in agreement.

"Yeah, no, no, no. I want the same strictly fucking. No strings attached."

With a low 'mhmm,' Vi walks out of your apartment and heads home.

"What a fucking woman."

[xiaowhore]

equivalent exchange.

DRAFT. this fic is incomplete, as i've stated in this post. this has been sitting in the dungeon for a while, and i have no plans to finish them, but i posted these drafts to not let them go to waste. it is up to you if you still want to read them regardless of their incompletion :) i will be writing my original ideas for the fic at the end so you guys will have an idea of what the fic was supposed to be like.

premise. when ayato stumbles upon a drafted resignation letter on your desk, he doubles his efforts to show you the perquisites of staying by his side.

he doesn't want to lose a competent subordinate. that's all there is to it.

note. what's wrong with secretary kim au but it's definitely not the same because i stopped watching at episode 5 and have no idea what happened. anyways i think we were all expecting a ceo!ayato x secretary!reader fic at some point so here it is. (couldn't keep this gender neutral for plot reasons, so feminine pronouns were used.)

Kamisato Ayato considers himself a good boss.

Or as far as things go, he's a decent one. He treats his employees well, takes them to expensive restaurants for company dinners, and discourages overtime so they can head off early for the night. He doesn't care much for formalities, and he gets along with his colleagues fairly well. He's never heard anyone talk behind his back or complain about his attitude at work, and there aren't any rumors spreading about him (if he turns a blind eye to the conspiratorial gossip guessing his relationship status).

But he does have minor faults. Like showing a more mischievous side when work hours are over. Getting Thoma dead drunk during dinners because his half-conscious inebriated talking is a form of amusement, or riling up Itto in drinking games just because it's funny. Then he leaves Sara to clean up the mess for him, since Yae seems to enjoy the comedy sketch as thoroughly as he does and probably won't lift a finger to help even if he asked her to.

As his assistant, you're prone to falling victim to his shenanigans, silly stunts that coax out aggravated eye rolls and sighs of exasperation. Years of experience eventually shaped you up to be entirely immune to April Fools' pranks.

He's in the middle of planning another one when he spots a letter of resignation on your desk.

At first, he thinks it's your rebellious phase arriving a decade late. He always found it odd how you never retaliated against his tricks, and this may just be the long-awaited April Fools' prank of vengeance. If it is, it's particularly mean of you—Ayato does have feelings, you know? Even he would feel hurt if you told him you wanted to leave! You shouldn't take this kind of thing lightly!

Then he remembers you aren't the type to make jokes, April Fools' or otherwise, and it's that moment when he feels (proper) fear.

“[Name] wants to resign?!”

Ayato makes a zipping motion and Thoma's shrieks immediately die down, but the disbelief on his face has yet to wane. His brows scrunch together, brain hard at work in processing this piece of information, though it seems to short-circuit in utter confusion from the sudden blow.

Scandalized, Thoma lowers his head and levels his voice to a hushed whisper, “Are you sure you saw it correctly?”

“I have able eyes. Unfortunately, my optometrist confirmed my perfect vision and assured I saw it just fine.” Woe is he.

“Get them checked again.”

“No matter how much I check, it won't change the results, Thoma.”

“We don't know that for sure, sir!”

“Trust me,” Ayato deadpans, looking off into the distance, “I checked with him thrice.”

Defeated, Thoma leans back to his chair, crossing his arms while deep in thought. “You saw the letter, but she didn't turn it in, did she?”

“She didn't. No e-mail, either.” Ayato taps the table in a mindless rhythm, expression stern but the shape of his lips almost resembling a pout. “Do you have any idea why she'd want to resign?”

Thoma rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Is that a genuine question, sir?”

Ayato's head snaps back to look at his companion. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“...Everyone in the office knows you... tease her for your own amusement.”

“It's my way of showing affection.” The corners of his lips curl up, stretching to a twisted smile as he rests his cheek on his palm. “Isn't she just so adorable when she gets angry?”

“You really do have a rotten personality.”

Ayato waves his hand in a noncommittal response. “We're straying off topic. What should we do next?”

Thoma hums, closed fist beneath his chin. “Since she hasn't turned in the letter yet, that means she must be hesitating. For what reason, we don't know, but it's keeping her here. So before she makes up her mind, we should dissuade her from quitting no matter what.”

Ayato laces his fingers together, brow in an inquisitive arch. “And we do that by?”

Green eyes sparkle with tenacity, clashing with blue irises twinkling in intrigue. “We bribe her, sir. It's time to show off your good points.”

--

“If a woman quits her job, what do you think her reasons could be?”

Ayaka blinks owlishly at her brother, taken aback by the abrupt question. It's a sudden thing to ask, especially odd given how their conversation hasn't led to that topic at all. “Did someone resign? I haven't heard anything of the sort, though.”

Ayato shakes his head, stirring the boba tea in his hands. “It's a hypothetical.”

Which means it's real.

Ah, whatever. At least he didn't go for the “my friend...” excuse.

Ayaka warily cuts a portion of her cake, scrutinizing each microexpression flashing on Ayato's face. It's one of their weekly lunch meetings, squeezed between hectic schedules, and they more or less have a silent agreement to avoid discussions involving work if they could help it. But this time, he brought it up himself.

How peculiar.

“Perhaps she wants to change workplaces? If she's exemplary, she might have been offered a better position or higher pay.”

Ayato nearly scoffs at the suggestion. The company, old-fashioned as it is, can only be inherited by a direct line of descendants. Outsiders can only go so far, and being the secretary for the chief executive officer isn't bad at all. Last time he checked, he's been paying you generously as well—how many figures was it? Six?

“Oh!” Ayaka exclaims, holding up a finger as she seems to have figured out something. “Or maybe she wants to settle down and get married? If her work is keeping her occupied, she'll most likely take time off to find a husband.”

Ayato proceeds to choke on a tapioca pearl.

“Or she got married and wants to be a housewife-”

“That's quite enough, Ayaka.”

Ayato would rather believe the Earth is flat.

--

If Ayato were any less desperate, perhaps he would have rationalized that putting together “give her what she wants to make her stay” and “she wants to get married” is a bad, bad idea.

Unfortunately for him, he is grasping at straws, so it leaves him no choice. Yes. Definitely. There is no other option than this, obviously.

(He does not delve deeper into the reason why he doesn't want you to leave, nor does he dwell any longer on why he was so quick to think he was fine with getting married if it was to you.)

“Don’t you want to get married soon, Ms. [Surname]?”

To clarify, Ayato does not spy on other people's conversations for a hobby, but he's always had impeccable timing. It comes with the job.

He stands by the door, reaching for the doorknob to the break room, but the mention of your name forces him to a halt.

“Why are you asking me that...?” You awkwardly dodge the question, sipping on your coffee. “I suppose I am at that age, though.”

“So you do want to!” The squeal rings with a note of glee, a stark contrast to Ayato's gradually dimming mood. “Wouldn't it be nice to marry a good man? I'm sure even you have thought of it at some point! Are you seeing anyone, then? Anyone you can imagine yourself marrying?”

“No, not yet.”

Before Ayato can even heave a relieved sigh, you follow with, “But my mother is making me go on dates to see people. Said if I didn't bring home a man soon, she'd come all this way to drag me back by my ear and introduce me to her friend's son.”

“Ah, I get that...” Your friend replies emphatically, nodding. “But those kind of meetings hardly go well. And you can't exactly tell your mother's friend you don't find her son attractive, right?”

“Why not just marry Mr. Kamisato, then?” Another one pipes up, to which Ayato gives a mental salute of appreciation. “You spend most of your time together. If you're not married to your job, then you're practically married to him.”

A cackle sends his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Not a chance.”

Can you at least expound why?!

“Huh? Why not? I mean, Mr. Kamisato is on another realm of existence and I can never hope to be on the same level as him, but you look good together!”

Your face pinches to a tight frown. “Look good together? In what way?”

“When you stand side by side, it just looks... right. And like I've mentioned earlier, you spend all your time with him. Why not seal the deal?”

“Mr. Kamisato is reliable, and if you marry him, you're set for life. He's handsome too, and we've all seen his muscles at our company sports day a few months ago!”

“I've never been so thankful for team-building events. Hallelujah.”

Ayato's face burns in embarrassment hearing the dreamy sighs. Even if they think there isn't anyone else listening on them (which is false), shouldn't they exert some restraint at work?

“Please don't lust over my boss,” you assert sternly, voice ice cold. “And we have a strictly professional relationship. So don't get any weird ideas from here on out, alright?”

“Fine. Tell me that again when I'm invited at your wedding, I dare you.”

“I said-”

They wave off your vehement protests at the statement. “Then if you're not into Mr. Kamisato, what do you plan to do?”

Ayato perks up, straining his ears in rapt attention.

“...I'm going on a date this weekend,” you sigh, rubbing circles on your temples. “I'll let you know how it goes.”

Oh no.

--

“-Dinner was nice. We didn't expect the rain shower, but he ran to the convenience store across the street to buy an umbrella because he didn't want me to get wet on the way to the car. He said it would be a waste if my hair got ruined since I-”

Slurp.

“...Styled it for the occasion. Then he drove me home. I found out we liked the same band from the music he played, and we agreed to-”

Sluuurp.

“-Go to their upcoming concert together. Then we somehow also like the same novel that's getting a movie adaption soon, so we also promised to see it-”

Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuurp.

“Could you please refrain from making noise when eating, sir?”

Ayato decidedly does not comply and only slurps his boba tea harder, nearly choking on a tapioca pearl yet again.

As always, you learn to ignore him.

“Concert... and a movie. I'm not sure about the concert, but the film you're talking about is the one coming out in the next two months, right?” Thoma confirms, sweating when Ayato's expression turns visibly grim. “You plan to see him for that long...?”

“Even if dating doesn't work out, we can always become friends, can't we?” You shrug, taking a bite out of your sandwich. “He seems like a nice guy. We get along really well, considering we've only met once. I ended up agreeing to a second date-”

The passive-aggressive slurping persists for the following afternoon.

--

“I've been meaning to ask for a while,” Thoma treads carefully, noticing Ayato's rapid-fire typing—no, striking—on the keyboard, “Ms. [Surname] is good at her job, but you seem really... eager to make her stay, sir.”

Ayato's fingers halt in their movement, and he takes a second to flash his business smile. “Of course. She's a valuable asset, and I'd be foolish to let her go.”

“Yes, I'm well aware, but...” Thoma scratches his cheek, looking off to the side. “You didn't go to such lengths when your former assistants resigned from their post. Or, uh... you fired most of them.”

“Yes,” Ayato simply agrees, still smiling, “she's competent. You don't find anyone like her easily, so it's only natural I'd want her to stay.”

“What do you mean by 'anyone like her,' sir?”

Thoma is awfully talkative today. Ayato might need to feed him something spicy to shut him up.

“Ms. [Surname] is special.” The words smoothly leave his lips. “Does anyone else have the meetings and company events scheduled for the next month memorized? She's the only one I can count on for work matters.”

Thoma's shoulders slump. “Okay, let me get straight to the point. Do you-”

“Mr. Kamisato?”

Thoma nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, accompanied by the clack of your heels.

“What is it?” The cold smile on his face finally melts to something more genuine, softer around the edges and looking especially radiant. It's welcoming, like your arrival counts as a joyous occasion, and he is exponentially more attentive compared to the way he lent Thoma half his ear (the other preoccupied with a phone call, which he swiftly ends the moment you walk in).

“I came to deliver some files from Ms. Miko... did I interrupt something?” You gesture to Thoma standing idly by the side, dumbfounded from Ayato's inconceivable behavior.

“Not at all. Is there anything else?” Ayato accepts the documents, noticing your hesitance to leave.

“Ah, yes, I will be asking for time off tomorrow.”

That's... rare?

But it's not a hard request. Ayato's own schedule is blank for the most part, since the latest project wrapped up not too long ago, and the workload is lighter than usual. Missing one work day won't do any harm.

“It's fine, but could I ask why?”

You fidget, tentative as you reply, “I was invited... for a trip on a cruise. He insisted I come since his friend bailed on him and the tickets would go to waste.”

The warmth in his eyes freezes over.

“The tickets would go to waste...” Ayato repeats under his breath, mockingly cruel. The tone flies past your head but it hits Thoma full-force, making him sweat profusely.

Distasteful. An utter disgrace of a man. The magnitude of his ignorance is so awe-inspiring, I have to applaud. I must give credit where it is due, and the foolishness of this clown is truly impressive. “The tickets will go to waste,” he says? His money must worth more to him than his dignity. Inviting Ms. [Surname] to a date on a workday with no regard for her schedule is one thing, but making her out to be an afterthought as a substitute for his original travel partner is another. How shameful. This is no way to treat a lady. If Ayaka were to be with a man of his caliber, I would never allow it.

But what he says outloud is of course, “I see. I hope you have fun, then.”

--

Corporate events are, for the most part, adequately entertaining.

Preparing for it is not.

But the worst part isn't even brainstorming themes, or finding an appropriate venue, or planning the logistics, or writing the guest list.

It's choosing what to wear.

Actually, the cause for Ayato's headache isn't even what attire he'll go with. It's yours.

“That looks wonderful,” Yae praises, looking at the picture on your phone. It displays a silver necklace, a tear drop topaz encased in a diamond twist. It pairs well with the dress you bought with Ayaka last week, an elegant fit that accentuated your curves.

However.

“He chose that for you, didn't he?”

The stoic line of Ayato's mouth twitches and his eyes can't help but sweep over your screen, scrutinizing each grainy pixel.

Though he has plenty of insults prepared at his arsenal, he can't find anything to nitpick about. Damn it. It's a good choice.

“You'll look stunning,” Kokomi assures good-naturedly, smiling in delight. Ayato does not doubt that will be the case, but he's sure he would be in a foul mood the entire night if he were to see you adorning it.

He has already retrieved his coffee from the break room so he excuses himself to his office, long strides that lead him out of earshot.

As a result, he doesn't hear the following conversation.

“Why this, though?” Kokomi asks, looking closely at the accessory. “It's a simple design. Doesn't look like something a man would pick from the rest.”

You shake your head. “I just told him I wanted something blue, and I couldn't choose myself because there were too many that caught my eye...”

“Blue?” She echoes, a simple curiosity. “Why blue?”

“...It's a pretty color.”

--

It is an actual coincidence that Ayato runs into you in the middle of shopping.

You're hunched over a display stand showcasing a variety of earrings, deep in thought as you observe each one. You're doing that thing where you scrunch your nose in concentration, a habit Ayato doesn't think you even realize you have.

“Fancy meeting you here, Ms. [Surname].”

(He wonders what face you would've made if he said “You go here often?” instead. Probably some degree of disgust.)

You blink, correcting your posture and nodding in greeting. You don't look particularly thrilled to see him, but at least you're unbothered by the prospect of seeing your boss on a free day. “You're here to shop too, Mr. Kamisato?”

Ayato smiles amicably. “I am. Were you planning to buy earrings?”

“Yes, but...” Your gaze returns to the display, your own smile faltering. “It is a bit difficult to choose.”

He walks over, scanning the variety up and down. “Is it really? You only need to choose a pair that matches your necklace, right?” He focuses on shades of silver, bypassing the vibrant colors of reds and pinks. Not even fifteen seconds later, he picks out a card and holds it out next to your ear. “This one looks nice on you.”

“Huh? Really?” Perhaps surprised by his swiftness, it takes you a moment to react accordingly. You take the card from his hands and flip it over, eyes widening by a fraction. “Oh. It is rather pretty.” Then they widen further as big as saucers. “I can't say the same for the price tag, though.”

“Hm? What price tag?”

He plucks the earrings from your hands, walks to the counter, and pays for it without a second thought.

“M-Mr. Kamisato?”

“Pull up your hair.”

“Eh? Oh, okay.”

You're so caught off guard that you unwittingly do as he says, tucking your hair back obediently and still processing the last two minutes.

His fingers tug at your ear, warmth bleeding to your skin, and by the time you return to reality, he's already putting the earrings on you.

STORY FLOW.

ok i lied i actually can't remember shit about this fic so i will be making up stuff as i go lol

what i do remember clearly is that the resignation notice that ayato found on your desk is years old. you meant to submit it way, way back when ayato was tougher on you, and you weren't as well-adjusted as you are now to the job yet. as stated in the fic, being ayato's secretary is no easy task—he'd fired countless people he thought was incompetent.

you fought a number of times, and you didn't know if you could keep up working for a man you thought was simply incompatible with you (in terms of being colleagues/partners).

but over time, you learned to work together. ayato acknowledged your efforts and hard work, and you knew ayato had been trying to give you less jobs to reduce your workload, but you were going to prove that hou could handle it.

what truly made you appreciate ayato more was when you got stranded at the train station. you dealt with a far company they collaborated with, but work ended later than expected, and you'd missed the last train home. taxis were an option, but youd have to go through several of them to get back. right when you were thinking of checking into a hotel, ayato informed you he was already on his way and drove a couple of hours to get where you were to bring you home.

time continued to pass, and that brings us back to the present. you were on the process of cleaning up your desk and left the old resignation notice out in the open by accident, which led to ayato seeing it.

it is very apparent to the others that you two like each other, but the involved parties themselves are unaware of it. you currently aren't eager to get married, but you were trying to meet people so your parents would stop bugging you about still being single.

anyway, ayato bought those earrings for you. timeskip to the corporate event. you unconsciously picked a blue motif for your outfit because it reminds you of ayato.

when you get there, surprise, surprise. the man you were meeting, kazuha is a bigwig, heir to some other corporation. he actually owned that cruise he invited you to and pretended he didn't because you might be intimidated. ayato didn't think the kazuha he knew and the kazuha you knew were the same person, and now the advantage he had over him was ruled out (i.e being rich). (actually while i was rereading i was surprised i didn't mention that it was kazuha...? istg i was imagining him the whole time i wrote about him)

anyhow, as it became later in the night, ayato wanted to get you home before kazuha could offer to drive you back or worse, spend the night with him. ayato acted drunk so you'd tend to him and accompany him home while his driver was in charge of taking you to his apartment. as you were nagging at him, he compared your interactions with him to yours and kazuha's. you were certainly nicer to that man. smiled at him a lot more, too. did you really like him that much?

if you did, could he let you go?

he was ashamed that he couldn't answer it right away. as if he had any right to whatever you do.

you carried him to bed when you got to his apartment, but when you were preparing to leave, he hugged you from behind. do you like that man? why do you want to leave me? why can't it be me? ayato was just pretending to be drunk, but he felt dizzy now, soaked in your scent. he said things that he wasn't supposed to. things that he couldn't take back. things that would change your relationship forever.

slowly, you took away the hands wrapped around your waist. ayato figured that was a message of rejection.

but then you pushed him back down on the bed and you straddled his lap. his mind was silent for but a few seconds before he started screaming mentally.

i've always wanted you, but i knew it was impossible. you have a fiancee. i'm an ordinary worker. your family won't accept me. ayato's mind was in a daze because your face was so close to his, and all he could see was the red, glossy shade on your lips, but he managed to hear those few sentences.

it doesn't matter. nothing else matters. i can't marry if it's not you. if you accept me, i swear i'll make you happy.

from here on, it could be a happy, fluffy ending where turns out, you were tipsy so you were more honest with him and you fell asleep in the middle of kissing so he took it upon himself to change your dress into something more comfortable and end the night with a forehead kiss...

...or you could continue what you were doing and the first thing ayato takes off is the damned necklace so he could replace it with a smattering of hickeys. your choice ^^

[fandoms-x-reader]

Eldest Sibling! MC

Headcannons

Requested By: @ainmunaqadh

Summary: The brothers' reactions to an MC who is the oldest sibling but is also the shortest sibling, and they have some self-esteem issues because of it. The Seven Brothers x Reader Word Count: 1,524

Lucifer is on your side one hundred percent of the time. He knew how frustrating it could be at times when you were the eldest sibling.

You felt responsible for your younger siblings and that responsibility made it all the more aggravating when your siblings didn’t listen to you.

Likewise, it was easier for you to understand some of the decisions that Lucifer made, even when none of his brothers could understand his reasons.

And he was grateful to have someone like you in the House of Lamentation. It was a presence that he was sorely missing from his life.

There have been times when he caught you giving lectures to his brothers when they’ve done something particularly rambunctious and he’s never been so proud.

In his head, he’s encouraging you to give them the scolding of a lifetime. But, he won’t step in. He’ll just admire you in action.

And if your self-esteem issues ever come up, he’ll do everything in his power to try and dispel them.

You were an excellent eldest sibling and you were great at being in charge; and, he would make sure the whole world knew it.

Mammon would relate to you the most out of everyone. He understood what it was like to be an older sibling but not get any respect from your little siblings.

You were the shortest out of all your siblings and because of that, sometimes they didn’t treat you like you were the eldest and that gave you a lack of self-confidence sometimes.

Mammon was always battling with his younger siblings. He did his best to come off as confident and self-assured as Lucifer was, but he was constantly made fun of by his little brothers and that led to him having self-esteem issues.

He’ll know how to comfort you when you’re feeling down on yourself more than anyone else because he’s speaking from experience.

And, if you ever get snippy with his younger brothers, you’ll ignite a new sense of confidence in Mammon.

He’ll think of the two of you as a team, and unlike Lucifer, he’ll verbally encourage you with your scolding.

He’ll wear a prideful smirk the entire time and endure the glares from his younger brothers while you finish your lecture.

And when you’re done, he’ll give them a pointed look, silently telling them not to mess with either one of you again. But, really, it’s just you the demon brothers don’t want to mess with. They could care less about Mammon being there for the lecture.

Levi struggled with being an older sibling sometimes. He knew that as the third-born, he was supposed to be looked at as one of the leaders when it came to his family.

But, he struggled with the pressure of making decisions and having strict rules which is why he typically kept to his room and did his own things.

So, it’s a bit of a comfort for him to see that you, an older sibling, also struggled sometimes with your siblings. It made him feel like less of a disappointment.

You had seen how determined and intimidating Levi could be in his games sometimes and you believed that if he could bring that out of himself in real life, he could be as intimidating as Lucifer to his younger brothers.

Levi didn’t care too much about real-life situations though. What he cared about was the way your assertive nature came out when the two of you were playing games.

With the way you could take charge in games, he thought you must be the best older sibling in the world.

Levi would be another one who would be good at helping you with your self-esteem issues and you were just as good at helping him with his.

He even took charge of his brothers a couple of times, surprising himself with his words. He was stunned when his little brothers actually listened to him and he was certain it was because of your encouragement. 

Satan’s reasons for not liking Lucifer weren’t because he was the eldest sibling. It was because everyone compared him to Lucifer.

So, the fact that you’re the eldest sibling doesn’t bother Satan one bit.

In fact, he enjoys the way you’ll put yourself in charge and handle the situations that come up during your time in the Devildom.

It takes a special person to be able to adapt to a life full of demons and you took the challenge head-on and exceeded everyone’s expectations.

Satan couldn’t help but wonder if your siblings helped prepare you for your adventures down there. Maybe your siblings acted like demons - so to speak.

Whatever it was, Satan was grateful for it. He adored watching you when you were being assertive and had a small smirk whenever one of his siblings was taken aback by it.

Here they were, Avatars of Sin and some of the most powerful demons in the Devildom and they were being intimidated by you.

Everything about your personality impressed Satan, and if anyone dared to not show you the proper respect, he would step in.

That included if your siblings decided to tease you about being the shortest one.

To put it simply, Asmo liked it when someone could be dominant.

And since you were the eldest sibling, you tended to have your moments of dominance.

They would make Asmo swoon every time.

It was the way you presented yourself that made Asmo fawn over you.

You could act so sweet and innocent at times and then whenever someone crossed a line, you would be giving them a lecture that competed with Lucifer’s.

It was exciting for Asmo to see both sides of you so he didn’t mind your “eldest sibling” personality one bit.

In fact, in true Asmo fashion, sometimes if he caught one of his brothers doing something wrong, he would call on you just so he could see you give them a good scolding.

The first time he found out that you had some confidence issues due to your height, he was shocked. How could you of all people have self-esteem issues when you were so perfect to him?

But, if there was anyone who could help with confidence, it was Asmo.

He would shower you with compliments until you believed him.

And if your siblings ever made fun of your height in front of him, rest assured he’ll find a way to ensure they never do it again.

Beel might be the second-to-youngest out of his siblings, but he had a very mature personality and sometimes acted more like an older sibling than some of his brothers.

And because of how mature he was, it was easy for you to get along with him.

Beel never got into any trouble or tried to stir up issues. The worst he ever did was eat all of the food - but that was to be expected of the Avatar of Gluttony.

But, whenever you needed help lecturing one of his brothers, he was the perfect helping hand.

There had been multiple times Lucifer called on Beel to help him punish one of his siblings and Beel never questioned it as long as there was proper food compensation.

And the same went for you. If one of the brothers did something that made you mad or was deserving of a lecture, he would hunt them down for you and make sure they stayed still as you taught them a lesson.

And he didn’t even do it for the food. He just did it for you because he cared about you. And because maybe he enjoyed it when you were in charge.

He would make sure to never be on the receiving end of your lecture. And, when he found out about your low self-esteem, he would do everything he could to help you come to love your height the way he did.

Belphie is the least pleased about your “eldest sibling” personality. But that’s mostly just because he has a hard time getting along with Lucifer.

It wasn’t that he necessarily thought that Lucifer was a bad person - it was just his nagging was something that irritated Belphie beyond belief.

It got to the point where Belphie would actually dread seeing his brother sometimes, knowing that a lecture usually came with him.

So, naturally, he expected you to be the same way. Always on his case about something. 

And it was easy for you to see Lucifer’s side of things when it came to Belphie. Sometimes, the eldest sibling has to make tough decisions for their own good.

But, you never flaunted it the way Lucifer did, which was a huge thing for Belphie.

And although you could have your times when you scolded the brothers, you always knew how to lighten up and have some fun with them.

That was something that seemed impossible for Lucifer to do.

So, although he’s a bit wary of you at first, he can see that you aren’t just Lucifer 2.0 and because of that, he grows closer to you all the same.

[usoppshoneydew]

Baker! Simon x General store owner! Reader

Baker!Simon first hears of you through the little old ladies that always frequent his bakery( honestly their gossip channel is his best source of intel outside of price and laswell). While he bags their focaccia bread and red velvet cake they tell him about the new store owner moving into the building that's being constructed across the street. They tell him that it'll be a small general goods store with an apartment built above it. He knows all this already of course. The moment he saw the construction crew he asked Price to set up a background check for everything relevant about the new tenant, and didn't receive anything concerning, so now he lets the elders tell him the little details, more for their happiness than his own.

Around recipe swapping he finds out that you're a young woman who received the space through your grandparents. Apparently your grandparents used to live here and they were the ones who told you about it. You'd be arriving in about a week or so, and (they mentioned this more than a few times) you're single and quite the beauty. That doesn't really peak Simon's interest, not being someone that pays a lot of attention to looks anyway. As long as you're not here as a cover for something shady, and you're not a pain in the ass for a neighbor, he's content with the new change. He knows why they keep mentioning those two things. Being tall, large, handsome, and single makes him the most eligible man in this small town, and they do a lot to set him up with anyone he hasn't rejected already. There's no point though, Simon isn't interested in being with someone. He just wants to take his retirement one day at a time.

And he's sure he'll always feel that way, even when your moving day arrives. It's hard to get a glimpse of you through all the movers and the truck parked out front, and any time he does glance through his shop window and see you, it's the back of your head, the patterned wrap you have swirled around it, or your legs sticking out of the truck when you sit to take a break. It doesn't matter to him though, with something new going on in town, everyone is finding a reason to go out, and that means a lot of people are stopping by for a sandwich( meat provided by the butchery Johnny works at) or a muffin. It's only when it's getting later in the afternoon, when things have slowed down, that he gets a proper glimpse of you for the first time. He's wiping down his counters when he hears the chime above his door and that's when he sees you.

He'll admit that you're good looking, pretty in a subtle way but that might just be because you're exhausted, anyone would be after moving to a new place. You don't even pay Simon much mind, using the base politeness to order a veggie sub, likely having not eaten all day, and leave after paying with a small thank you. To Simon it looks like the little old ladies have failed in setting him up once again.

Baker! Simon who's sweeping the front of his store when opening day finally arrives for you. He's seen how busy you've been up until today, setting up the interior and exterior of your store. He saw you place crates outside along with a few flower planters, glanced at you putting up what looked like a selfmade open sign, and even a little cloth canopy over your door during his smoke break, and observed you carrying in wooden planks for shelves while he was waiting for his cake to finish baking.

He takes time to glance over at your store every now and then, just being observant as always, and notices that you don't struggle with business on your first day. That's not surprising though considering how tight knit the community is here, and everyone has been talking about the new store since the construction started. Again the buzz around your business brings customers to his, and Simon can say that he appreciates that much.

You walk into Simon's store again that afternoon and order the same thing you did when you moved in, a veggie sub. You're still tired after a full day of work but there's significantly more energy in your demeanor this time. Instead of leaving after getting your food though, you lean against the counter and introduce yourself to him. Even if he doesn't really want to, he dusts the flour off on his apron and takes your hand in his when you offer it for a handshake. You tell him about how the little old ladies in town have been mentioning him to you a little more than necessary and when he told you he can relate, you laugh a little. He hadn't meant it to be joke but he can't help but smile a little too. Because of the elderly ladies of course, that's all. You don't stay long, letting him know that you've got to clean up for the day, but when you leave you let him know that you enjoyed the food and you'd like to come by for lunch more often, before stunning him with a sweet smile. Simon is embarrassed to say that he didn't get a chance to respond before you walked out and instead just stood there with his heart beating a little faster than usual.

Baker! Simon who doesn't approach you much on his own after that. His heart beating like that earlier had to have been a fluke. He's so confident that he purposely avoids interacting with you more than necessary, because he's so sure that he's not suddenly attracted to you after that small moment you had, after all it's not like he's an easy schoolboy whose opinion changes after some eye contact and palpations of the heart.

He might not be interacting with you but everyone else is. Johnny says he's already been over a few times to check out what you sell. He came across the street to show off the dumb little ghost keychain he bought, only to leave it behind on his counter. Apparently Kyle has interacted with you plenty of times by now. He helped install your shelves and even the little canopy over your entrance and the border of your store. Simon is really surprised when he finds out that you've already asked Price to start selling the apples from his farm in your store. Everyone in town has been in your store but him and Simon won't admit that he feels a way about that.

Baker! Simon who visits your shop for the first time one night after a mishap with a bread knife. Someone above must've had an agenda because Simon has never cut himself while cooking, ever. He's simply too skilled with a knife to ever make a mistake like that, but by some divine intervention he grazes his nail and when he went to look for a bandaid in his office drawer, he was all out. So as much as it embarrasses him to do so, after avoiding you for a week, he trudges across the street to your store.

The moment he walks inside, you look up from the notepad you're writing on and give him a once over, he can see the gears turning in your head, likely wondering if you should greet him or grab the broom in the corner to swing on him with. It's understandable, it's late at night now, he's a large man, and you don't know him all that well. A small part of him is actually relieved respects that you take care to look after yourself, must be nice for your loved ones to know that you don't walk around with your head in the clouds. He knows why you're weary so he's quick to make his intentions known.

“ ‘m just trying to buy some bandaids.” he lets you know and puts his hands up, unintentionally showing you the small cut on his thumb that's still bleeding lightly. You don't blush, well maybe you do but not in the way Simon does, not visibly, but you make a face like you're slightly embarrassed to be caught with your hackles up. Even though he didn't ask you to, you took it upon yourself to grab what he needed, throwing in some peroxide and cotton balls too. He's sure it's just because you don't want him to get blood on any of your merchandise. At least that's what he thought until you rejected his money and bagged up his things nicely. Of course he didn't want you to do that, tries to get you to take it but you tell him to just save you some leftovers, give you a free slice of cake or something. Simon thinks of something better, and offers to let you sell his bread in your store.

Baker! Simon who personally delivers the bread you ordered to your door. He could simply let his new intern carry it across the street, but he wants to make sure it gets to you properly, that's all. Sure, he'll ask how your day is if there aren't many people inside,maybe even do some odd jobs for you, move some crates and bags to the back of the shop, but that's all just being a gentleman really. Who cares if he does all this while you tell him about the series you dropped last night, explaining the entire flawed plot to him from the beginning because he has no idea what show you're talking about.

Baker! Simon who starts to spend more time with you after that. Stopping by your store before you close for a small drink, making you laugh when he goes for a strawberry milk, or you'll go to his bakery for lunch opting to lean against the counter with your food while you both talk about what your regulars have told you today. When you have to keep moving out of the way for customers, he eventually invites you behind the counter to eat, it's nothing but a simple stool to sit on but it's better than standing right? It gets to the point where Johnny jokes that the two of you spend more time at each other's shops than your own.

Baker! Simon who gets Kyle to install a small eating area in his bakery, just so you can sit and chat during your lunch break, thinking you'll be more comfortable with that, a new counter by the window with a couple of barstools lined up, only to feel a little lonely when you sit there instead of behind the counter with him like before. Little does he know, you liked sitting in the back with him more too. Fortunately for both of you, customers fill that area quickly and what do you know? The only place you can sit is behind the counter with Simon.

Baker! Simon who peeks at you through his shop window way more often than he used to,when you're sweeping the front of your store, or watering the plants you have outside. He looks over the most during Golden hour. It's like the sun loves your skin the most during the late afternoon and decides to make it shine. It's so captivating that if Simon isn't careful, you glance over at him and catch him looking at you, and all he can do is go back to his bread with a burning face and ears.

Baker! Simon who keeps his store open just a little longer so you don't close up your shop all alone, keeping close watch for any suspicious characters so that the mace he gave you a while ago will never have to be used.

Baker! Simon, who recommends a recipe for you to try at home and surprises himself with how smoothly he offers to show you how to make it first when you both have time off. You both set up a time before opening hours. You show up early even if you don't have to and it makes Simon's heart act up again. What can he say? He likes when people are punctual.

Baker! Simon who not so subtly asks if you want to start meeting up outside of business hours. Not at the general store and not at the bakery. He starts with group activities, like inviting you and your friends to the camping trip he's got coming up with his boys, or perhaps just dinner at John's house. Then he gets a little bolder and suggests one on one things,maybe a movie at the theater in town or lunch at the restaurant on the far side of town. When you ask him if he's asking you out on a date, he surprises himself again by saying yes, because that's exactly what he's doing. Maybe the old ladies succeeded in setting him up after all.

Taggies: @cookieswithay

[charmed-asylum]

The award for god damn my mouth drop like a cartoon cat goes to SY but u know . I know he doesn’t beat around the bush. However, was I thinking he be like this . And shit I can say from experience and studies that a lot he doing goes right with it. I mean sad thing and it’s really not just one person to pin point who could of fix this besides Thor town folks and trailer trash mom ( now idk where she grew up but hey it’s not me but cliches) that could of help. It’s sad because for her case she probably isn’t a slut while Sy is crazy he just type that knows it but tries to be all wooo man I mean I’m not crazy I’m caring but if u ever mess with me then haha u be getting a dead cat in your mail box or a stalker for life but wooooooo I’m just caring and being a human . Shit pat on the back and you good is looking out a simple box of stuff is looking out non stop poof Sy there is not helping out it’s stalking but bc this town is so small folks won’t see it. Oh he lucky that town size of a city block.

“On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body” honey this statement so spot on huh one a check back in the day like your time period AU money u get paid can last a month or last time now it’s like a blink poof gone and your body lord I’m only in my 20s and the issues I’m having at my age blown minds.

Sy just always there and idk why but it’s big ( lord I’m drooling and have not finish this thought) well as a whole get always with the sneak attack shit I’m barley 5 foot and I still have issues . Bc I’m too short they turn around and still don’t see me I gotta jump be like Boo. Anyway still damn “. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. “ also going back to my girl you got yourself a lifetime 20/20 level stalker. Hahaha way you keep doing Thor I can’t “ It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. “ I wonder still wonder because he hasn’t been front with her which I feel it coming feel it coming . ( still gonna be shock) but on the why he gave her a reason which I’m gonna point out in a second but can “ I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." be one I mean it be least crazy one . And if not does he pray on pregnant women because of well a lot tumblr taught me a lot about kinks but because how easy the target she or how her emotions not there or pregnancy brain. “ You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you” also that he was so close to Thor which questioned his character like so he mad bc what Thor did or he use Thor for some reason. Because in small time I can’t see some friends falling out so easy bc hello who else u got .

This again makes me feel bad for her because while Sy seems nice and it your name was the fluff you don’t ask for I be all aww so cute and romantic but no nothing ever good and sweet it’s an huh my leg said in a sponge bob character voice. Like never so simple and sweet but damn how bad I felt reading this “ You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt.. Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment” and fact he open ( after 1st day seeing her) mention he read books about pregnancy. It makes her wall slowly start to crack. “ He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.”

HAAH I’m sure many mention this but lord can you imagine “ He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. “ But no the way that he watches her even down to her fingers. Or what way her EYES 👀 may go. He’s watching her as if I only watching tho his pray but as if he I don’t know still in war zone, looking through his sniper or goggles, watching his enemy. But still huh I hate it the perfect crazy stalker but idk even talking to her not at her or down to her .

AND HE SO HONESTLY BLUNT like okay he playing a game of 1s and 00s and we doing tic tac toe. Still like , “ "Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me….. His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." that to me feels ( because not 1st time) he thinking on how to say it like before with the honest but down play it. In away which is why I feel there more.

Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last. 

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself? 

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. 

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?" 

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage. 

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--" 

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder. 

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water. 

"No, you don't--" 

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." 

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal." 

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway." 

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.  

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say. 

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you." 

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter. 

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest." 

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left. 

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window. 

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment. 

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene. 

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look. 

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says. 

"And tea?" You add. 

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you." 

"Yeah, I... I know." 

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.  

"Thank you," you smile as best you can. 

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter. 

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down. 

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses. 

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit. 

"You-" he begins. 

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time. 

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation. 

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?" 

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help." 

"Okay, but why?" 

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." 

"You want to?" 

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me." 

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other." 

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?" 

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend." 

"Was," he interjects.  

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes." 

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says. 

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much." 

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders. 

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you? 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.” 

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer. 

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.” 

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.” 

[lost-in-fandoms]

me again!

maxiel + a classical only one bed trope (30)

(but let me offer an idea to spin this, if you want to use it: only one room and Max is in heat)

From this. Hi again!! oooh this is very delicious your brain is always A++

Daniel almost considers not going back to his room.

He's happily buzzed, the perfect mix of alcohol and good company to make him feel easy and loose. They didn't have much to celebrate, he had finished p7 and Max p9, but it was still double points for the team, and it had been the last race before summer break, so when someone had invited Daniel to go out, he hadn't even hesitated before saying yes.

Max had said no.

He had been weird all weekend, moody and snappy, finding spots around the garage to curl up in and glare at people from. He had been short with everyone, even with Christian, making the air in his half of the garage feel heavy.

Daniel had tried at first to cheer him up, even tried to figure out what the fuck was up with him, but Max had shut him out, quite literally, closing the door of his driver's room in his face.

And now he had retreated to their room, their room because for some reason they had to share this weekend, to be gloomy and bitchy.

Well, better than ruining the party for everyone else, Daniel considers. But it doesn't make for a big incentive to go back there to sleep.

He could go somewhere else. He could bunk with the mechanics, or with Michael, or he could let any of the pretty omegas who had been rubbing up on him all night take him home. But in the end, he had found himself take a cab back, something uneasy at the bottom of his stomach, that even the booze couldn't kill.

He supposes he feels protective, sometimes, of Max, and knowing that he's alone in their room, probably feeling like shit for some unknown reason, doesn't sit right with him.

So he goes back, opens the door quietly, just in case Max has already gone to sleep, and gets hit in the face by the scent of omega in heat like a sucker punch.

He gasps for breath, his cloudy brain already feeling slower, stumbling forward to shut the door behind him, not wanting the scent to get lost in the hallway.

It takes him way too long to understand that what he's seeing is a naked omega in his bed, nesting with his blankets and his clothes, face flushed with heat.

It takes him even longer to compute that the omega is Max.

[tootiecakes234]

Busy

NSFW(MDNI) ; Character Aged Up

Kinda fluffy, kinda smutty...

It was Saturday afternoon and you were on the couch all comfy. You had cleaned and cooked dinner. Now you were impatiently waiting for your boyfriend to get home.

The two of you have been dating for 2 and a half years now and living together for 6 months. You decided to take that step because you wanted more time together. Between your job and Katsuki's as a pro hero, you guys were always trying to find time for each other. Moving in had made this a lot better, but this past month has really been hell.

Kat left for a week on a mission out of the country, and a day after after he got back, you had to leave for a business trip for a few days. As soon as you thought the worst was over, there was attack after attack from the League of Villains. He was getting called in to work even on his days off.

The time apart was driving the both of you a little crazy. Your mood has been down and you haven't wanted to do much besides stay at home and sulk. You knew Katsuki was getting to a breaking point because you were hearing more complaints about him than usual.

He'd never admit it, but you are a big factor in him keeping his attitude in check. You had a very calming affect on him, so when he goes too long without real time with you, he reverts back to his asshole tendencies.

You are completely caught up in your show, when you hear the front door slam shut.

“Katsuki, why are slamming the door?” All you hear is him in the walkway tugging off his boots and grumbling to himself.

You get up and walk over to where is and all the frustration on his face starts to melt as soon as his eyes land on you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as you walk over to him and slide your hands into his sweaty hair. “You stink ‘suki”

“Wow thanks. I just worked an 8 hour shift kicking ass all day” he rolls his eyes, “sorry hard work doesn’t smell good.

Even though you complain you don’t move away from him. You feel like you haven’t seen him more than an hour at a time recently.

“You should shower and then come out and eat. I made your favorite for dinner.”

“Yeah, I smelled it outside the door and my mouth was watering. I didn’t have time to eat lunch today.” He says a little hesitantly because you’ve chewed him out more than once over skipping meals when he puts his body through so much.

And you probably would have again, if you didn’t see the exhaustion in his face.

“Then do you wanna eat first, then shower. I don’t want you to pass out in there.”

“If you shower with me you can keep watch. Make sure I make it out alive.” He says as sweetly as he can muster right now.

And you do shower with him. You end up washing his hair for him and giving his shoulders a little massage that almost puts him to sleep standing up.

After that you get dressed and go dinner plated for the both of you. While you’re in the kitchen Katsuki hangs off of you like a backpack everywhere you go refusing to let you go.

You have 0 complaints to offer because you’re both touch starved by this point.

You end up eating thigh to thigh in the living room on the floor with some trashy show on. Katsuki inhaling his food in 3 bites and then nodding off while you attempt to finish yours as fast as you can before you completely lose him.

You get up and take the plates to the kitchen and Katsuki is standing at the bedroom door waiting on you.

“Baby, I’m not really sleepy yet. If you want to lay down, I’ll come in a little later.”

“We’re not going to sleep yet. I haven’t held you,awake anyways, or been inside you in almost 2 weeks.” He comes over and starts pulling into the bedroom. “I have a plan. First, I’m gonna make you cum… on my mouth. Then I’m gonna make both of us cum with me inside you.” By this point, you can already feel the wetness starting to pool inside your undies.

“And then, depending on how much energy I have left, I might repeat steps number one and two” this makes you giggle a little and his eyes are twinkling and mischievous. More bright and alive than you’ve seen them since he got home.

“By then, I promise, you’ll be so exhausted all you’ll wanna do is cuddle with me until we pass out.”

“You’re really cocky for someone that was just falling asleep. You probably won’t even have enough energy to complete step one”

By then he has you right on the edge of the bed. He pushes you so you fall back against the mattress with light “uumph”

You look up at him standing there all shirtless and sweatpants hanging low, and the hard outline in those sweatpants.

You think to yourself He might not have to touch to complete step one.

“Y/N the world would have to fuckin spontaneously combust to make me deviate from this plan.” He says as he crawls over you on the bed. “Now, you can either slide these fucking shorts off or I can tear them off you. Your choice.

*little did you know that Katsuki turned off both of your phones while you were in the kitchen and his work phone. He was being literal when he said nothing was getting in the way of this… not tonight. You he would MAKE time for.

Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist

*ummmm this was long but I’m trying to find my groove so…. Thanks for baring with me🤭

[euthymiya]

not a selfship but alhaitham + when you’re reaching for the same obscure old tome, of which the house of daena only has one copy

Your palm meets warm skin instead of the cold, leather cover of a tome. You pause, glancing up as sharp, teal eyes meet your gaze, staring at you expectantly as if you should be the one letting go.

You need this tome. It’s the final research element to finish your thesis, and you’d like to be done with it. End of story. No matter how devastatingly handsome the man (because he is handsome, even you’ll admit that much), you will not be handing over the last, final key to your academic freedom.

“Um, excuse me,” you say dryly, “I was kind of reaching for that.”

“As was I,” he says, staring at you with a bored, almost uncaring expression. Your eyes narrow. “Now, if you’d please kindly take your hand off of mine.”

“I believe it should be you taking your hand off of mine,” you correct, huffing as you add stubbornly, “I reached for it first.”

He blinks at you, bland and a little irritated as he points out, “your hand is on top of mine, which means I reached the book first.”

Well.

Maybe if you were feeling particularly patient, you’d be inclined to admit that yes, he does have a point. But stubbornness, combined with pure exhaustion have you at your wits end, and if you have to play a bit difficult, then so be it. You’re pretty sure you need it more, and you’re probably a much speedier reader anyway. You’ll have it done and returned in no time.

This guy on the other hand…he doesn’t look too bright. You’re not willing to take your chances and let him walk off with a tome that you might never see again.

“I started reaching for it first,” you scowl, “you just sped up your hand once you saw me. I should get it.”

“Unlikely,” he scoffs, “I didn’t even see you. Although,” he gives you a once over with his eyes, making you feel uncomfortably seen under his judging gaze, “I suppose you are a bit easy to miss.”

You gape at him. “Just what does that mean?”

“It means,” he smirks, taking the opportunity to grab the book as you stand in shock, “that I got here first.”

“Hey!” You glare at him, seeing red for a moment. What a perfectly good waste of a perfectly handsome face—and such an awful attitude coupled with his ridiculously smug grin couldn’t make for a worse combination. But, before you can even say anything, the book is being pressed back into your hands.

“You seem like you want it more than I do, though,” he hums, “I suppose I can let you have it. It’s a bit outdated for me, anyway.”

With that, he saunters off. You push down the soft flutter in your heart for a moment and force yourself to hope you’ll never see him again. (Faintly, you hope your wishes don’t come true—but you refuse to admit it to yourself.)

Throws UP I love him so much. TY RAE FOR SPOILING ME ILY

[bubblingbowie]

fluff / you and Logan unwind / gn!reader

some sweet domesticity with Logan cuz he deserves a wife and 4 children. got snowed in and wrote this pretty short NJOYYYYY

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

although Logan Howlett adores you whole heartedly and souly, worships you with every fiber of his weary and gruff being, he can't help but be confused by your little routines. your nights of self-care. and how much you put on yourself just to be your most beautiful self.

now is different. it's calm. a Sunday evening of nothing. you sit pretty on the couch, applying lotions and skincare after a shower. orange soaks into the living room with the sun setting. and Logan admires while wiping a wooden spoon from the kitchen. he was put on dish duty after dinner. not that he could ever mind, he's just glad he has a pretty babe willing to feed him. let alone let him anywhere near perfection like yourself. he couldn't help where his eyes traveled.

you were the sweetest thing he'd known. and yet you caught wind of his staring with lazy dish drying with a snort and smile. "what's that look for, hm?" you snip. you're not even afraid to mouth off. he feels light in the chest when you give him that kind of attention.

"makin' the whole place smell like aloe and lavender. pretty overpowering for me." he comments. his sense of smell is one of an animal. he got every single whiff and it punched him in the face. but that lotion you used made your skin so smooth. made you smell heavenly too.

"oh hush, almost done." you mutter and finish up your left arm. the sun was finally tucking itself away and Logan had been done with the dishes and now sauntered over to you. his favorite part of the day, the wind-down.

"you wanna watch something?" he mumble lowly, pressing through a few movies of the streaming service he was still very new to. he never really messed with technology but by god did he know how to pull up a good tool review on Youtube or a live showing of a vintage car show.

"maybe a documentary." you comment loosely, still trying to get comfortable with the blanket arrangement between you two.

"we're not watching the victorian one again." he says with the smallest shake of his head.

"what! it goes the most in depth about Ada Lovelace than any other movie!" you argue, very sudden with your passion. he only chuckles, head going to your back to soothe your mind. only then do you perk down, but still oh so ever outward about your thoughts. "it's a good one. the narrator is a lovely lady."

oh he found you precious. tendency to re-watch and all. "well put a pin in it." he says with a fond smile, going through the documentary category. one catches your eyes. 'Disclosed Beasts.' funny name but what you see is the animal you know all too well. a wolverine.

"look!" you're way too joyful of your finding "it's you!" Logan zeros in on where you point, his eyes having some trouble with his age and lack of care of his pupils. then he scoffs. like he hasn't heard that one before

"very funny, bub." he huffs out but his heart grows heavy with how excited you got. what a cute thing he was here with him.

"do that one! we can learn about your cousins!"

"that's not how that works, babe-"

"please! how will i know what they eat?" your chirping makes him sigh. you're not letting this go. he clicks up and presses enter, then play. he'll indulge you. the reward is better though. a big smooch right on his cheek and even better, he can feel your smile. that's what he loves.

"y'better pay attention." his hand gently pushes your head just gently on your shoulder. your cheeks press on his cotton white shirt, eyes already heavy with exhaustion. his breathing patterns must've been hypnotic, no man could ever make you fall asleep so quick.

maybe 25 minutes into the moderately okay documentary, you fall asleep learning about how wolverines have a polygamists way of mating with Logan muttering a small "yeah sure". his hands soothe your shoulder and you're out like a light. not before feeling the smallest kiss onto the crown of your head.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

need to bake this man a pie gah damn

[greyeyedmonster-18]

Five Times Sirius Black Fucked James Potter and One Time He Didn't

(a slytherin!sirius au... part 5/5. read parts one, two, three, and four.)

-

“Well, I barely recognized you, Professor. What a surprise to see you here,” James said, clapping Sirius on the back between the shoulder blades. It was a lie. A bad one. James knew it was. Because he had walked into the Three Broomsticks and immediately recognized the dark curls  and broad shoulders sitting at the bar. And had only bought time over in the corner by his friends so it didn’t look like he immediately recognized him. He joined in the idle chit-chat, keeping an eye on Sirius the entire time, before making the excuse to go say hello to his son’s professor.

Briefly.

It would be brief. 

Lies, lies, lies. Nothing with Sirius Black was ever brief. 

But Sirius wasn’t wearing his teaching robes. He wasn’t in an expensive suit, or robes, or the usual attire James saw him in. Instead, a simple long sleeve t-shirt, pushed up to his elbows and all his forearm tattoos visible. A leather jacket was hanging off the back of his chair. And commenting on Sirius being outside of the usual settings they interacted in, seemed like the safest bet.

Sirius turned toward him, raising an eyebrow playfully, “End of the term. I am officially off the clock.”

“Celebrating?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m just over there,” James said, turning over his shoulder to look at his friends and colleagues gathered at a table in the corner, “You should come join us.”

Sirius laughed shortly, “No.”

“What? You’re just going to sit here alone?”

“Yes.”

“That can’t be much fun.”

“On the contrary, I love being alone. Ideal situation would be if this bar were completely empty. I’d help myself to the whiskey behind the bar if it were legal and pay for the staff to take the hours off,” Sirius replied, taking a sip of his drink, cheeky smile over the rim of his glass. James had come to learn that Sirius Black had one hell of a bark, and James had spent the better part of two decades on the receiving end of it, but had very little bite. Like a dog growling while playing tug of war. At least in James's experience. Always curious if he was the exception or the rule in Sirius’s world. 

“Haven’t sent me away yet,” James teased, pulling out the stool next to Sirius at the bar, 

“Well, you’re good company,” Sirius said plainly, raising his eyebrows and taking another sip of his drink. 

The exception.

James preferred it that way. 

“That was…nice.”

“I have my moments.”

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“Go back to your friends, Potter.”

James waved his hand toward his group of friends, “They see me enough. I mean it, let me buy you a drink.” 

Sirius turned toward James though, setting down his glass, “No.”

“I don’t even have to drink it with you just let me--”

“Let me finish, Potter,” Sirius said, holding up a hand to cut James off, “Before you go into one of frustrated rants and go on about how irritating I am, you cannot buy me a drink is because I always buy. That’s a non-negotiable,” James opened his mouth again, and Sirius gave him another pointed look, “and before you ask why, it’s because, as you love to remind me, I have piles of galleons and there is more than enough to go around.” Sirius put his hand down and finished the remainder of the drink in his glass.

More than enough to go around.

James thought back to the pairs of socks, and trousers and the time he had grabbed Sirius’s sweater while dressing when they were still in school together. Sneaking around. James always in an embarrassed hurry to leave, head spinning and unable to keep track of his belongings. At the time, it annoyed James, because Sirius was always so put together and seemed to know exactly where his uniform shirt was and where his socks had landed. In retrospect, Sirius had saved James several times from walking back to his dorm, sweaty feet in leather shoes. Sirius never asked for anything back. Keep it.

James thought about the cup of tea Sirius made him the night before his wedding. The hot shower. Sirius pulling out luxurious soap hidden in his bathroom cabinets, never asking for anything in return.

The ward at St. Mungo’s. The funds provided to Hogwarts and other wizarding schools around the country. 

And now this.

“Nothing to say? No rebuttal?” Sirius asked, “Have I finally rendered the great James Potter speechless?”

James nudged Sirius with his shoulder, “You’re still a prick. Even if…you surprise me by having a consistently generous mindset.”

“So, I’ll buy you a drink,” Sirius said firmly. A statement, not even a hint of a question. James’s stomach squirmed.

“By all means, Black,” James sat back, gesturing to the bar, watching as Sirius raised his hand to get the barmaid's attention. Without even asking, Sirius had ordered another whiskey on ice and a butterbeer, and James blinked in his direction.

“The whiskeys for me, don’t worry, Potter.”

“No, I know, how did you know I don’t drink?”

“There have been occasions where I’ve listened while you were speaking.” Definitely the exception. James’s stomach flipped again. “Now why’d you want to buy me a drink, exactly?”

“Good company,” James grinned, doing his best to recover quickly “And…I’ve got a really happy kid. I wasn’t sure how it was going to pan out, with him in Slytherin, but he’s…made friends, who aren’t all little brats, and he’s doing well in school and is on the Quidditch team, even. He’s…happy, and he’s thrivin,g and I feel like you might have something to do with that.”

“Might?”

“He speaks of you..a lot. Professor Black, this and Professor Black, that in his letters. No eleven year old should be this interested in Astronomy,” James said, and Sirius chuckled softly, “Without even physically being there, you’re there in my home. Are you happy with that?”

“Quite,” Sirius grinned back, nodding to the bartender as they returned their drinks. James watched as Sirius’s hand reached forward to give James his butterbeer first before taking his own drink. The gold watch on Sirius’s wrist was familiar now. So were the growing tattoos that trickled onto the top of his hand and wrapped around his fingers, having seen them in the parent-teacher conferences held throughout the term, but it didn’t make them less exciting. Intriguing. “Cheers, Potter.” Sirius raised his glass, holding eye contact with James as their drinks made a small clink together.

James took a drink of his butterbeer, running through conversation starters in his head, not wanting this interaction to finish just yet, not wanting his friends to notice his absence and have him not be in the middle of an animated conversation that simply couldn’t be disrupted. 

“Okay, you’re off the clock, not a professor anymore?”

“I’m not sure it works that way, if someone needed assistance, wouldn’t you help them?” Sirius asked.

“Sure, but I don’t think anyone in this pub will be asking for an astronomy lesson anytime soon, though I’m sure they’re riveting.”

“I’m off the clock,” Sirius confirmed.

“Then I have to know,” James started, “Is Snape still a slimy arsehole? And how pissed was he when you were given the Head of House position? I think I would’ve paid money--no, I would’ve had you pay money-- for me to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. He’s been teaching there for years, hasn’t he? You come in and take over. Do you think he cried? Do you think if we found a journal, he’d have a whole page dedicated to the moment you ruined his career?” James could’ve stopped talking. James could’ve asked one question and let Sirius answer. 

Except.

Sirius’s smile grew the longer he spoke, and Sirius started laughing. And through all the parent-teacher conferences and run-ins at Quidditch games in the past year, James learned that Sirius Black had the best laugh on the planet, and there was very little James wouldn’t say or do, to get him laughing. To keep him laughing. 

And James couldn’t decide what was worse.

Wanting to fuck your son's professor into the ground.

Or simply having a sickening, schoolboy crush on your son's professor.

And having to sit through meetings, pretending his heart wasn’t racing and wasn’t distracted by curls and cheekbones and long eyelashes. And waiting to see if a letter would come that day because days when he received post from Professor Black were the best days James would have (aside from days he received post or a mirror call from Harry). 

At least when they were meeting up, hooking up, and ravaging each other senseless, there was a point and an end, and James knew that he could walk out a door and not think about it twice. But the slow conversations, and the laughter, and the getting to know Sirius Black was devestating.

Because Sirius was smart, and it no longer annoyed James.

Because Sirius was quick, and funny, and James wanted to laugh with him.

Because Sirius was generous, and kind, and a million other things that James hadn’t bothered to realize before, and it was positively, absolutely, horrible. And wonderful. 

And it was all James could do, sitting there and easily talking with Sirius--another round for the both of them--until it grew dark outside and James's friends had gone home. Scarcely anyone around but the two of them as they peeled themselves off of bar chairs, Sirius tipping the staff handsomely, and ventured outside. 

Warm summer breeze.

“Are you at Hogwarts for the summer?” James asked, “Or will you be returning home?”

“A little bit of both. Tend to some house maintenance that was forgotten throughout the year…may decide to vacation somewhere else…” Sirius shrugged. James tried to school his face, so he didn’t look quite so put out at the response. All James really wanted to know was where will you be so I can find an excuse to write you. “Why do you look weird?” Sirius asked, “Is it because you’ve never considered I might take a vacation?” Apparently James had done a poor job of hiding anything.

Or perhaps Sirius had been watching him as well.

“Well now that you mentioned it…”  James trailed off but then stopped walking, running a hand nervously over the back of his next, “But…I was more asking for…in case…we need to write you. Homework…help, you know.”

A slow smirk appeared on Sirius face, and James instantly regretted saying anything, “Are you going to miss me, Potter?”

“Shut up. Forget it,” James rolled his eyes, making to continue their walk out of Hogsmeade. James unsure of where they were heading in the first place, but knowing he just wanted to follow Sirius.

“Just hold on,” Sirius said, grabbing James’s wrist and stopping him, “I’ll write you. Wherever I’m at.”

“...That…yeah, that’d be..good. I guess. If you want.”

Sirius pulled James wrist lightly so James was facing him more directly. The two of them standing face-to-face, locked, like statues in a garden. James took a step forward, toes of their shoes meeting on the dirt of the Hogsmeade pathway. 

“I don’t want to play games anymore. I’m tired of the running and leaving, and I won’t do it anymore with you,” Sirius said, his voice low and steady, “So I’ll say, I’m going to write you plenty this summer. And I might ask you to come join me for a drink again, or dinner, or even to my spectacular vacation home. And you can protest when I foot the bill, and I’ll…roll my eyes when you say something ridiculous, and…we’ll go on. Because I want to spend every irritating minute with you.” 

James knew how he must’ve looked. Astounded and stupid, mouth half-hanging open, listening to every word Sirius had said.

Blame it on age, or time passing, but James knew didn’t want to play games anymore either.

“So…you’ll write then?”

“Yeah, I’ll write, tosser,” Sirius said with a half grin, one of his fingers hooking into the belt loop of James’s jeans and pulling him closer. James took the opportunity, now that they were in such close proximity, to brush a stray dark curl out of Sirus’s face, securing his hand at the base of Sirius’s next.

“You’re so beautiful.” James couldn’t help himself. Words slipping out carelessly. 

“I know,” Sirius responded quickly.

“Okay, bloody arrogant--” James mumbled into Sirius’s laughing mouth, unable to finish his sentence without tongues and lips getting in the way. James kept his hand on Sirius’s neck and felt Sirius pull him closer, their chests pressed together. In the middle of Hogsmeade, for once not thinking about who would see or what he was doing. 

It was freeing. 

“Come over,” Sirius said against his mouth, breaking the kiss.

“What for?” James asked. Playing with fire. Some old habits would never die.

Sirius’s voice dropped, “So I can fuck you into my very expensive mattress. I’ll make you cum all over my sheets, and when you think you’re finished, I’ll do it all over again,” he said, tugging on his belt loop again, and James reflexively put a hand on Sirius’s chest to stop himself from stumbling forward at the force. “Come over,” Sirius repeated. 

It wasn’t the first time they had been there, James writhing underneath Sirius’s, face pressed against a pillow covered in silky material. Sirius with James’s hand tangled in his hair, pushing his head down. 

The mess of it all. James purposely laying Sirius down in the soaking wet spot on the sheets. Sirius teasing, teasing, teasing until James unraveled completely. 

“You were right,” James said, lying next to Sirius in bed, a clock ticking in the silence, as both of them caught their breath. Sirius’s leg thrown over James’s hips. James's fingers still stuck in Sirius's curly hair. Just in case he was tempted to go again.

“Probably. About what, specifically?”

“All those years ago. In the locker room? It wasn’t the last time. Not by a long shot.”

[admirationandromantics]

A Little Tipsy

Ugh, I can't contain myself. I loved writing this. Gaming turning to sex? Fucking hell, that's what I live for (ps, also see my fic named "Video Games...", and you'll understand)

Word count: 2,9k (Unedited)

thinking about tipsy chris losing all his nerves and being really straightforward and flirty with reader when she invites him over for drinks and gaming.. jesus.. christ.. the sex would be INSANE -@nerd-space

I put the wine in the fridge, hoping that it’ll turn cold before Chris arrives. It is our weekly game night, but this time, we were bringing alcohol into the equation. I’ve had a long week, and Chris had no protests, so I went out and got some. Not only wine, but a couple of beers and the star of all, vodka. It’s disgusting, but at least it’ll make me relax. 

I figured out that since we would be drinking, an online game is not the best. My progress and rank can be harmed, so therefore we would be playing a series of nintendo games. I have it all set up, mario kart, party, even the bros games. So the get together was still going to be a gaming night. 

A loud knock on the door pulls my attention away from the popcorn. Instead of leaving it in the microwave and opening the door for him, I simply shout. 

“It’s open, just walk straight inside”

The door opens, a pair of heavy footsteps coming inside, the howling of the wind sounding through the space, an ice cold breeze brushing against my face. It really is cold outside today. 

“You know, you’ve been here so many times that knocking seems a bit too formal” I comment, taking out the popcorn and pouring it in a bowl. 

“Just trying to be a gentleman” Chris says, walking into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie, a nerdy print on the front. I don’t know what game it’s from, but it seems old. 

“If you were a gentleman, you would have come picked me up and drove me to you place” 

“Hm, so I guess I’m not” 

“Not really” I laugh, giving him the bowl. Instead of taking it, he grabs a big handful of the content, stuffing his mouth. 

“And that” I point at him. “Is another reason you’re not a gentleman” 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. Here, let me take the bowl” He states, walking by my side, mouth still full. His hand is reached out, but I hold the item away from him, making sure he can’t reach it. 

“You lost your chance at chivalry, Hartley” I joke, walking even faster to make him catch up. He doesn’t do much, swallowing and letting out a small laugh. 

“Well, okay then. Have you prepared the switch?” 

“You mean me? Don’t you think asking me that is a bit direct?” 

His cheeks flush a light pink, eyes diverting my gaze just for a moment. I love teasing him like this, he always gets so embarrassed, and cannot handle it. I give him a small nudge with my hand, getting him back to reality. 

“I’m messing with you, of course I have” 

“Y-yeah, that’s good” 

We continue the evening, getting a couple of glasses of wine down before starting to feel the effects. My cheeks are red, but the alcohol is the imposter in that area. Mostly. His thigh continuously keeps pressing against mine, his body swaying to direct the race car on screen. He wins again, and again, and again. It’s almost boring playing with him, always winning these types of games. 

“Who even sweat-games Mario Kart? That’s a bit much don’t you think?” I punch his arm, unaware if I do it too hard. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, just laughing and finishing the race once again. I keep going, the speed unbelievable. Gosh, it’s embarrassing how bad I turn when tipsy. 

“Here, let me help you” He states, scooting up halfway behind me, hands going around my body. 

“You don’t think I’m gonna make it?” I say, sighing loudly. 

“Absolutely not” 

“I’m just one lap behind the others, it’s not that bad considering we’re on the hardest difficulty” I lean back against him, letting his hands go over mine on the controller. 

“Speaking of laps” He says, and before I can comprehend what’s happening, his arms grab my hips, pulling me upon him, arms going around me once again. I don’t think my face can turn redder than it already is, and my mind is fighting my body from starting to grind on him, old fantasies roaming through me. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice, eyes on the screen as he presses my fingers down on several buttons, occasionally leaning a bit to the side, which makes me stop several sounds from escaping my throat. 

“And, there!” he exclaims, and I reach the finish line, not last at least. He grabs my hips again, lifting me up and down beside him. I almost whine from the lack of him, almost. 

“I guess I’m not the best at Mario Kart in my state” I laugh, leaving the controller on my side and leaning back on the couch. He watches me intently, eyes going over my body. I take a stretch, shifting my gaze away. He lifts one of his legs up, resting the ankle on his other knee, completely spread out. Fucking hell, he’s hot. 

“Okay, so do you want to play something else?” he asks, a small smirk on his lips. I turn to him again, the arms of his hoodie dragged up, making his muscular lower arms visible, veins showing. I follow them, reaching all the way down to his hands, his long fingers which just a minute ago were on mine, putting pressure down and guiding me. 

“You know, if you’re just gonna stare, we might sit like this all night” 

I look up, mouth a bit open, trying to find a comeback. He caught me. Fucking hell. I’m usually the one who makes fun of him, and now, my head won’t let me fight back. My mouth keeps opening as if to say something, but ultimately fails me, nothing coming to mind. 

“And that mouth might be put to better use than just opening and closing like that” he smirks, before turning his attention back to the game, starting another round. I watch him in silence, taking a deep, quiet breath, composing myself a little. Who was this, and where is Chris? I’ve met him drunk before at parties, but his goody comments and funny nature is usually what’s shining. Now, he’s so forward, even more than I am at times. 

I shift back to the game, thighs rubbing hard against each other, making it difficult to find a comfortable position. The game starts, and I try to keep my attention on it, but my gaze continuously goes back to him, watching as he calmly relaxes. His back against the couch, fingers moving fastly unbothered. 

“You’re going the wrong way” he whispers, nudging my thighs. I gasp, so weakly I pray he didn’t hear it. Or if he did, he hopefully thought it was a surprise because of my bad driving skills. 

“You’re usually much better than this” he comments, and I nod in agreement. Maybe alcohol just makes me way more horny and turned on than usual? Especially when he sits like that, nonchalant and confident. A way I’ve never noticed before. The game pauses, and I look over at him, a bit confused. 

“What, I was doing better” 

“No, you weren’t” 

I sigh, throwing my head back in defeat. This was not a usual gaming night where I won at least thirty percent of the races. Now, even the bots are better than me. 

“Hey, lesson, come here” his fingers guide me, and I scoot over, sitting tightly beside him. 

“No, not like that” he shakes his head, grabbing my thighs once again, lifting me on his lap and letting me straddle him. I bite my lips, unsure what he’s about to do. Oh gosh. His belt buckle is perfectly placed underneath me, and I have to fight my instinct to move. This is torture. 

“No need to get so flustered, I have seen you worse” he smiles, disconnecting his own controller, and fastening mine on my wrist. 

“Wait what?” I ask, wondering what he means. He’s seen me worse? 

“Yeah, you know, when I walked in on you” he says, casually as if that’s something to be expected. I shake my head, wondering what he means. 

“When was this?” 

“When you got yourself off in the shower” he says, clicking a few buttons. Does he not understand the gravity of his words? What has he heard? Or seen? Every single time I do that, I think of him, so what if he’s heard. 

“Wait, Chris, I can explain” I try, but he interrupts me. 

“No, no. I didn’t know you were in there, my fault for coming in. You screamed my name so loud I took the hint to go” 

“No, I just mean, you weren’t meant to hear that, I’m sorry, I understand if you find it weird and just want to go and stuff…” 

He looks back to me, confused eyes and furrowed brows, as if trying to figure out something. I look pleadingly back, please don’t let this ruin our relationship. A few seconds go by, painfully slow as he realisation washes over him. I get a bit confused, not understanding what’s so difficult to understand. 

“Wait, you didn’t know I was in there?” he asks, voice low and tone serious. His mouth is a bit open, his chest falling quicker up and down under my hands than before. 

“No, but-” I start, but then it hits me. He thought I screamed his name because he walked in, not realising it was because I was thinking of him. And now…

“And you screamed my name not because I was in there but because you were-”

“No, no, no, no, no” I shake my head. I’ve buried myself, I never meant for him to find out, I should’ve just shut my mouth before, listening before drawing conclusions. Shit, shit, shit. I’m about to get off him, but his grip tightens on my thighs, pressing me further down on his buckle, causing a small moan to escape my lips. 

“Fucking hell. You were pleasuring yourself by the thought of me” he says, more of a conclusion than a question. I can’t even look at him. Mouth wide open trying to conjure anything in my defence, but alas, my words fail me. 

“Have you been doing that every time before these types of nights? Before we meet?” 

I don’t know what to answer, a small “uh” leaving my lips. The corner of his lips slowly drags upwards, a small chuckle coming from deep within. 

“L-listen, Chris” 

“No, you listen here” he counters, dragging me down and closer to him, the buckle giving that extra bit of friction to me. I give a small hum, which makes him look down for a split second, wondering what the fuss is about. His eyes find mine again, mouth opening, biting his lip with his head tilting. 

“Okay, wait a second now” he smirks, finally understanding. 

“So, you’ve been struggling with yourself since we began? All those small movements that I only figured was because you were sitting uncomfortably…” 

“Chris-”

“No, no, no”

My breathing gets heavier, struggling to contain myself as his hands grip harder, starting to slowly make me grind on him. The extreme friction, after being left unnoticed all night, all these balled up feelings, emotions all over the place. Confusion, heat, desire, and passion. Everything comes up at once as I tightly grab his shoulders for support, much-needing pleasure shooting through me. 

“Chris!” 

“Oh, yeah. That’s it” he whispers, one hand coming up behind my neck and pulling me closer. I can’t help it, the urge, the need, the craving. I want him badly, and this confident person I’m sitting on, is making it much more difficult to keep myself in control. I meet his lips with mine, moaning into the kiss as he keeps up the rhythm underneath us. His teeth capture my lower lip, biting down until a whimper escapes me, making him smirk even more. 

He changes our position, working on the controller in my hand, letting loose the ribbon around my wrist. I’m about to take hold of him when both my hands are grabbed with one of his. My wrists against each other as he lifts them over my head, laying me down horizontally on the couch, body towering over me. 

His other hand goes to the hem of my sweatpants, feeling around the area before moving underneath. I gasp at the sensation, his fingers warm as they trace the hem of my underwear. 

“All the time when you wear this type of clothing… I always wonder how easy they can come off” he whispers, breath hot against my ear. Lips go to kiss down under it, moving to my neck, leaving painful suck marks all over. 

“C-Chris” I whimper, his name coming out as more of a pleading. 

“Mhm, yeah. You want me so bad, don’t you?” 

I hum in response, nodding my head weakly as his fingers go down to my folds, feeling the soaked fabric. My hips buckle up, needly craving his touch. The action makes him let out a small laugh. 

“And for so long too” 

“W-When did you turn so cocky?” I ask, finally managing to conjure something else than mere sounds. 

“What, you’ve never noticed before?” 

“No” 

“Well, then you’re in for an experience” 

He moves the fabric to the side, fingers coated by my wetness, moving slowly up and down. A melody of sounds escape me, back curling as he reaches my clit, fingertips moving teasingly. 

“So incredibly needy. I should’ve just joined you in the shower when I heard you screaming my name” 

“Chris…”

“Now let us see if I can make you scream it even louder” 

His fingers go to my entrance, pushing two of them in, knuckle deep, testing how much I can take. I give a loud moan, and he captures my lips in his again, swallowing every single sound I make. His hips lowers down on me, letting me feel his hard boner underneath his pants. 

Fingers start pumping, all while I try to break my hands free from his grasp, wanting to touch him. He goes almost all out before slamming them back in, his thumb rubbing my clit softly at the same time. His lips leave mine, going to my jaw and neck, kissing and biting. My pulse skyrocketing, all my oxygen going straight to the wave of sounds coming from my mouth as he keeps going. My core starts building up, tension collecting as I ride his fingers, feeling his hair on my chin as his lips move down to my collar. 

“Chris!” 

“And no bra? You really wanted this to happen” he whispers, making shivers run down my spine. He caresses me with his mouth, my clothing so thin he can feel my nipples harden underneath him. I can’t muster words as he keeps up his pace, legs giving out and all my energy going to my hands, wanting to touch him again. 

He takes me over the edge, moaning loudly as pleasure runs through my body, letting me ride out the high on his fingers before pulling them out. I breathe out heavily, trying to steady myself as his head comes up to mine again, making me watch as his hands go into his mouth, sucking his fingers dry. 

“Now, how about we go to the bedroom?” 

***

I wake up, not having a hangover. We didn’t drink much after all, none of us being drunk, just tipsy. It flusters me how he acted last night, his cocky self being something I’ve never noticed before. I turn to him, naked beside me, chest going up and down in a steady rhythm. My hand carefully makes its way to his messy hair, fingers combing through it. His own goes to grab my wrist, giving me flashbacks to last night’s activities. He drags me over to him, capturing my naked body in his arms. 

“Are you staring at me while I’m sleeping?” he whispers, voice hoarse and sexy. 

“Well, you don’t seem to be sleeping” I tease, leaning into him. 

“Fucking hell, that was a long night” 

“You don’t say. I’ve never seen you so cocky before” 

“Cocky, or confident” he tries to defend, and I roll my eyes and lean over to grab my phone, showing him a couple of messages from Josh. 

Josh: Yeah, he gets like that. Careful though, he might be cocky as shit, but he’s also too honest for his own good, so I at least hope you got fucked good

“Wait what! You told him we fucked?” he asks, eyes widening and body suddenly completely awake. I laugh, giving him the phone and letting him see the previous messages. 

“No, he figured that out himself. I just had to check if you behaved like this every time you drank, and if this was a one-time-thing” 

“Judging by how often you’ve screamed my name the last 12 hours, I don’t think you want it to be that” 

“And judging by what you said last night, I think you’ve been thinking about this way more than I have” I shoot back while he keeps laughing. He throws the phone away, capturing my lips once again. 

“You know, about that shower…”

[binniesunderworld]

How Gabriel Agreste Destroyed Adrien's Life: A 3 a.m. Analysis

From: ‘I enrolled in a school without my father's permission, I ran away from home to attend the first day of school and although I don't want my father to be angry with me, I'm not afraid of a punishment either because I KNOW there won't be one’.

To: ‘My girlfriend is alone with my father, with no one to protect her, completely defenceless. I NEED TO SAVE HER’.

One knows that his father is a good person who, no matter how angry he is, would never hurt him. The other doesn't, it's the opposite, he is no longer sure of anything, he fears for the safety of those he loves and is so terrified that he is about to have a panic attack.

But how did we get from the first to the second?

How Gabriel Agreste's abuse managed to completely change his son in a matter of days

People don't remember this because it happened a long time ago and has not been repeated, but Adrien used to be a NORMAL person, not as perfect as he is now. While he has always been kind and polite, there were also times when he allowed himself to be a bit hostile and not as perfect as we are used to seeing him (as Adrien, not as Chat Noir). Usually that ‘good boy’ facade was only used in front of his father and Nathalie, but in front of his friends he behaved like a normal teenager, even becoming a bit teasing, self-centred and rebellious. "The Bubbler", "Animan", "Kung Food" and "Evillustrator" being the clearest examples of these behaviours, in particular towards Nino, Chloé and Marinette.

In S1 it becomes clear that the only conflict Adrien has with his father is the fact that he does not give him as much freedom as Adrien would like. Apart from this, Adrien has no other problems with him and considers him to be a good father. There are several of Adrien's behaviours that suggest that Gabriel's overprotectiveness towards him was the only thing wrong with him, but that otherwise Gabriel was excellent. It is time for us to look at that.

1. Origins

Adrien literally enrolled in a school without his father's permission and when his father refused to approve Adrien's attendance, he ran away from home and went running to school. When Nathalie tries to convince him to come back Adrien simply says ‘this is what I want’ and turns around to continue up the stairs, not caring if she has anything else to say. He hears that someone needs help and immediately goes to their aid, and as soon as he finishes doing that he turns to Nathalie and the bodyguard with a charming smile expecting to see their proud faces, and when instead he sees that they are still angry he is immediately horrified and gives up.

This tells us a lot about Adrien: he is a spoilt child who has never been punished in his life, and when things get difficult his first reaction is to be adorable or do a good deed to be forgiven. Adrien intended to leave Nathalie talking to herself, and he wasn't worried about the idea of being punished when he got home from school because he knew it wasn't likely to happen. He then helps someone to ingratiate himself with Nathalie and the bodyguard so that they will stop being angry, and when he realises that it didn't work he is surprised. He is used to people forgiving his disobedience just because he is cute. He immediately gives up and asks Nathalie not to tell Gabriel. While he didn't want his father to be angry with him, he also didn't fear punishment because he knew he wouldn't get it.

Later, at the mansion, Adrien realises that Nathalie did tell Gabriel and he feels betrayed, as if he didn't expect her to do that. Basically, he is not used to people disobeying him. Gabriel again forbids Adrien from going to school but it's nothing he hasn't said before: Gabriel reprimands Adrien's behaviour with words, never with punishment, and there comes a point when words are no longer enough and Adrien is no longer afraid of them, hence he becomes ‘rebellious’. The next day Adrien runs away again and, surprise surprise, he is not punished, in fact he is rewarded. Despite having disobeyed his father again, he is rewarded and allowed to go to school, even Nathalie (whom he treated very badly) offers to help him. This reward is without explanation, just because. I'm not saying Adrien deserved to be locked up for life at home, at the end of the day he's just a teenager who wants to socialise with more people, but it's clear he was a spoilt child whose behaviours both good and bad were praised, just like Chloé and Felix, so if you ever wondered why he was such good friends with them, here's your answer.

2. The Bubbler

Here we get confirmation of how Adrien is a good boy only in front of his father and Nathalie, and how he is himself in front of his friends. At the beginning of the episode he together with Nino makes fun of his father because he does not agree to throw him a birthday party. Then, when Nino is akumatized, he at first refuses to be part of the party because he cares about Nino and wants to save him. Even when he realises that all the adults are trapped in bubbles, he never cares about his father, Nathalie or his bodyguard, only about saving Nino. And then he also gives up on this idea after a little chat with Plagg and says: "Okay, you're right. This might be the first day in my life that I actually get to do what I want for once", and Adrien joins the party without any show of consideration for the adults he knows.

Although all these behaviours were forgotten by the fandom, they are important to understand Adrien's character and how he changed due to his father's abuse. This is the normal behaviour of a teenager with a bit of a grudge: he's not a psychopath who wants something bad to happen to his father, he's a kid who knows that in the end he and his superhero partner will fix everything and he allows himself to have fun in the meantime. But it's something the current Adrien would never do, and there's where the difference lies.

3. Volpina & The Collector

This is the last episode in which we see Adrien acting like a normal teenager. He overhears Gabriel talking on the phone and decides to spy on him, then discovers that he has a safe behind his mother's portrait and out of curiosity goes to investigate. Adrien discovers the book and takes it with him, when he is discovered he quickly makes up a lie. RIP pre-lobotomised Adrien, you will always be missed.

This is the key point in the change of behaviour of both Adrien and Gabriel.

Gabriel confronts Adrien and he immediately gives an explanation in a tone of voice intended to generate sympathy:

—I just wanted to know what you were hiding behind that portrait that was so important.

This doesn't work so he resorts to blaming Gabriel himself:

—You.. you never told me about those things.

And this doesn't work either, so he decides to admit what he did but also looks for a way to justify himself:

—I was intending to give it back to you, I swear. But then I lost it.

Gabriel tells Adrien that he no longer trusts him, and what is Adrien's reaction? He just looks jaded and apologises to Gabriel, in an attitude that makes it clear that he is used to apologising to make things right, that he is not genuinely sorry, and also offers to buy him a new copy, confident that this will be enough for Gabriel to forgive him. This confirms the previous point: Adrien is used to getting out of his punishments just because he looks cute or does a good deed, and this became so repetitive that Adrien already knew how to get out of a punishment, and was not afraid of his father but simply tired of scolding that went nowhere. Again, there is no fear of consequences.

Everything changes completely when Gabriel tells him that this book is unique in the world, that there is no other copy. Apologies didn't work and the other form of redemption, buying him a copy, wasn't possible. Then is when Adrien's face changes completely to horror: he has just understood the magnitude of his mistake. His father punishes him by forbidding him to go back to school and Adrien is heartbroken, but does not try to reason with his father (as he had done, and many times, in past episodes). This is the birth of the Adrien we know now: from a normal boy to a submissive puppet. He knows that there is no way to redeem himself and that is why he decides not to fight, he finally realises that his actions have consequences, serious ones, taking away what is most precious to him: his freedom.

From here on we see a completely changed Adrien, from a rebellious teenager to a perfect doll with no thoughts of his own. Before, he pretended to be perfect only in front of his father, Nathalie and his bodyguard. Now he pretends to be perfect in front of everyone, regardless of whether he knows them or not. The trauma can be clearly seen: Adrien adopts this neat behaviour because he is afraid that his freedom will be taken away if his father finds out that he made another mistake. Now Adrien knows that he CAN be punished. He doesn't even allow himself to breathe in peace because of all the stress and fear he carries. And so it is that Adrien becomes a puppet unable to stop pretending even in front of his own friends: we go from an Adrien who was not afraid to react strangely to Marinette's odd behaviour, who was not afraid to tease Nino about his crush and who was not afraid to put Chloé in her place when the situation warranted it, to an Adrien who could not even keep his back bent for fear that his father would consider it inappropriate.

Gabriel Agreste being a shitty father and exploiting his son's weaknesses to profit from them

Despite being strict with Adrien, there were times when Gabriel let him spend time with his friends and have fun with them. In fact, in S1 there are several of these, most of them to be found there (before all the drama).

In ‘Animan’ he is in the zoo helping Nino with his date with Marinette.

In ‘Gamer’ he is playing video games for the school championship at Marinette's house.

In ‘Kung Food’ he comes to Marinette's house to help her with her uncle and even takes them to the hotel and stays for dinner with them, he spends practically the whole day away from home.

In ‘Horrificator’ he spends many hours filming the movie for the school.

In ‘The puppeteer’ he is going somewhere alone and relaxed.

In ‘Timebreaker’ he is present during the race between Alix and Kim.

As you can see, despite being strict, Gabriel sometimes let his son spend time with his friends. When did this change? After the book incident. After forbidding Adrien to attend school, Gabriel noticed how heartbroken he was and realised that school and his friends were not a whim for Adrien, but something he truly cherished. And Gabriel used these feelings to manipulate Adrien. In S1, before the incident, Adrien is more ‘rebellious’ and still has enough freedom to be with his friends. In S2, after the incident, Adrien behaves much better than in S1 and still doesn't have half as much freedom as before, and when he finally gets his father's permission to be with his friends, something happens at the last minute (Heroes Day Part 2, for example). This is because his father has discovered his Achilles' heel and uses it to benefit himself and manipulate Adrien.

The clearest proof of this is in the difference between ‘Horrificator’, where Gabriel let Adrien spend hours in the school filming the movie, and ‘Queen Banana’, where Gabriel let Adrien go for only a few minutes to the filming and right after he finished his part he literally left in a cage hanging from a helicopter. It is clear the pleasure that man developed in making his son miserable.

And we could talk about ‘Chat Blac’ and ‘Ephemeral’, but I won't touch those topics as they are not part of our timeline. I'll just say that they made it clear how far Gabriel is willing to go (literally traumatise Adrien) in order to get what he wants. What I think, is sick.

Adrien's Stockholm Syndrome: normalisation, justification and romanticisation, and how it makes him vulnerable to unhealthy relationships

1. Gabriel

We have already made it clear that Adrien became an uncritical puppet, and as a result he developed a terrible Stockholm syndrome. Adrien normalised all the manipulation, and by accepting it as something usual this caused him to start justifying it as well. Needless to name the episodes, in many of them there is always someone (usually Nino, Marinette or Plagg) who points out his father's problematic behaviour and Adrien immediately tries to justify it with ‘he does it because he loves me’ or ‘he just wants to protect me’. This shows us a big difference from the Adrien of S1 who was aware of his father's behaviour and even made fun of it, the current Adrien would never do that, on the contrary, he seems to live to justify Gabriel's actions. That's how serious the brainwashing is.

With Gabriel's behaviours now normalised and justified, they in turn begin to be romanticised. Despite being a shitty person, there are moments when Gabriel treats Adrien well: like when he hugs him (something Adrien is not used to), his worried words to Chat Noir about losing Adrien, or when he watches his mother's movie with him. These are all details that if they weren't accompanied by manipulation, anyone could call ‘cute’. And this makes Adrien unaware of the manipulation at first: his own denial and the kind details his father had for him confused his brain. Adrien did not think that his father could be so kind to him if he was a bad person, and that is why Adrien refused to consider him as such. This is a method of self-defence against dangerous situations, the feelings developed by this are not only romantic but any kind of feelings that are enough to make the victim feel safe in dangerous environments.

2. Kagami and Marinette

Let's start with Adrigami. Adrien didn't show a strong interest in Kagami until the chapter ‘Oni-Chan’ where he even rejects Ladybug's fist to make sure Kagami is okay, but what led to this? The romanticisation of obsession and control.

Kagami is simply Adrien's friend, but when she sees a photo of him with another girl, she gets so jealous that she is akumatized and starts chasing this other girl to get her away from Adrien. This is behaviour that is bad as a girlfriend, but even worse as a friend. Adrien doesn't take this seriously and even spends the whole fight making jokes instead of worrying that one of her friends is a jealous girl who is willing to kill for him even if they don't have any kind of commitment. Then, when he sees that Kagami still has the rose he gave her, his behaviour immediately changes and you could say that this is when he starts to feel a real attraction to her, even rejecting Ladybug's fist, whom he had long been in love with.

Here we see how dangerous the romanticisation of problematic behaviour is: Adrien is willing to let go of all the chaos Kagami caused and all her toxic behaviour just because she showed that she really ‘loved him’. And he reciprocates her feelings because he finds it cute that someone is in love with him enough to go crazy. The romanticisation of Gabriel's actions eventually led Adrien to romanticise other people's actions, even going so far as to feel honoured by all the questionable actions these people committed under the justification of loving him.

Something quite similar happens with Adrinette. In S5 Adrien mentions that he started to accept his feelings for Marinette from what happened in ‘The Puppeteer 2’, and there's no way this isn't weird. He had feelings for Marinette long before that, but it was that event that led him to accept them. Marinette literally assaults a ‘statue’ just because it looks like Adrien, starts fantasizing about a life together, steals one of his hair and many other weird things, and what's Adrien's response? To say that he fell in love. He literally saw how far Marinette was capable of going because of her obsession with him, and as much as that behaviour was justified with ‘it was a joke’, instead of caring, what he does is fall in love with her... because of her obsessive and bizarre behaviour towards him.

It is honestly quite disappointing to see how Gabriel's manipulation damaged Adrien to the point of leaving him craving only unhealthy relationships because that was his perception of love.

Both victim and perpetrator

Adrien developed a split personality and a taste for taking advantage of people when he is in situations of power. Gabriel turned Adrien into a victim and a perpetrator, the role depending on the situation. When Adrien is the one at a disadvantage, he displays submissive and manageable behaviour. When he has all the power, he has no problem using it selfishly and taking advantage of others. This was taught by Gabriel, from prudence to ruthlessness, are things Adrien learned from him. And in a way that's how Adrien differs from Chat Noir: the power they possess.

Adrien is always at a disadvantage: his life is in the public eye, everything he does is always monitored by his father or his fans, and if he makes a mistake it is very easy for his father to find out and punish him. This is why Adrien, always powerless, forces himself to act submissively. He does not possess the power in such situations, so he can only act as he is expected to act.

As Chat Noir things are quite different, he always has the power. Chat Noir is a superhero, he watches over Paris but no one watches over him, he has freedom, destructive power, a city that depends on him and a partner who needs him to defeat the supervillains. He has the power. And he uses this power to his advantage.

A clear example of this is his tendency to threaten. Adrien has several times been willing to give up his miraculous and even verbally threaten (in a passive-aggressive way) Ladybug just because it bothers him that she has secrets. All of S2 was Adrien threatening to give up his miraculous if Ladybug didn't tell him her secrets, and this behaviour wasn't like ‘we can't keep hiding things from each other anymore, this isn't healthy for me and if we're not going to be honest it's best to just give up’, no, this behaviour was like ‘if you don't tell me what you're hiding, I'll give this up and you see if you can do it all by yourself or if you find me a replacement’. I understand that he was tired of the situation, but manipulation is never justifiable behaviour. Evidence of this is found in episodes such as ‘Syren’, where Adrien even threatens Plagg with give up his Miraculous if he doesn't tell him what Ladybug is hiding.

Another example is ‘Glaciator’, where he invites Ladybug to a dinner and she makes it clear that she already has plans and is unlikely to go. And yet Adrien is self-illusioned, and when his fantasies are shattered by something Ladybug had already warned him would happen, he simply accuses her of mocking him, throws a tantrum, refuses to help with the akuma, and when Ladybug comes up with a good plan to defeat the villain he guilts her by saying: ‘Sorry, Ladybug, it's not cool to play with people's feelings’ when Ladybug never played with his feelings and in fact realised these only minutes ago.

There are many other episodes like these, too many to list. I guess the most notorious ones are ‘NY Special’ (where he has no problem being unfaithful to Kagami) and ‘Lies’ (where he also has no problem being unfaithful, lying to her, trying to provoke akumatizations and so on). His problematic behaviours are not only as Chat Noir, but also as Adrien when he finds himself in relationships where he has the power. In his courtship with Kagami he knows that she is completely in love with him and uses this to his advantage and does truly horrible things like the ones mentioned above without regard for her feelings because he knows or believes that she won't leave him. Something similar happens with his friendship with Chloé, he knows how much Chloé appreciated him and so every time she committed a bad deed he threatened to end their friendship. It's not wrong to want your friend to stop being a shitty person, and it's okay to let him/her know that if he/she continues this stupid behaviour you'll have no choice but to walk away, but the problem with this is that we go from Adrien's genuine concern for Chloé to empty threats just because, in the end, Chloé wouldn't change her behaviour and he wouldn't leave either.

Conclusions

This is not as well written as I would like it to be. I procrastinated for weeks and when I finally decided to write it I no longer had the series so fresh in my memory. I am a teenager with no professional knowledge of psychology who wrote this at 3 a.m. while I was not so sober.

This post is not salt against Adrien/Chat Noir, in all of ‘Miraculous’ there are only two or three characters I hate and none of those are Adrien, so this post is not hate towards him. While I did describe some of his behaviour in a not so nice way, that was not a personal opinion but an analysis. Like when you go to a psychologist and he doesn't give you his personal opinion but a diagnosis, the main difference being that I am not a professional nor do I claim to be one. Anyways, this is a direct attack on Gabriel Agreste for being a shitty person.

As you may have noticed, most of this analysis is based on S1 to S3. While I did mention some episodes from S4 and S5 they were not as relevant, this is because the first 3 seasons are the ones I've seen the most and ergo the ones I remember the most, maybe later (I don't think so) I'll do a part two on S4 and S5.

Finally: my personal opinion on Adrien. He is an amazing character whose development and build goes unnoticed by the fandom, this is probably because it wasn't done on purpose (if this character build was planned it wouldn't be half as good as it is, the writers aren't that talented). Adrien is just a boy, a victim of an abusive home that ingrained several of his father's behaviours within him and he has no ‘true personality’ as this depends on the situation he finds himself in. He acts this way as a method of survival and although it is not right, it is a psychological response and it is not as if he can help it. I'm really happy that the poor boy is free from his abusive father and I hope that in S6 he can be happy and get therapy.

[leaawrites]

I can’t tell you the way I feel

Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: when Liam takes on a dare from his friends, he doesn't believe of finding himself making the biggest mistake in his life.

Warnings: suggestive content, allusions to sex, angst, Liam being a dumb cunt

Wordcount: 1.6k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Masterlist

Waking before Liam did meant she had all of his peace to herself. No thought in his mind disturbing them, nobody around that could harm them. It was just their two bodies, tangled in love and sheets.

Reluctantly she began tracing the outline of his face. Her finger moving over his jaw, his lips, down his adam’s apple and over his collarbone. Softly tracing the bone that was stretching his skin towards her, calling for her.

Focused on her finger and how it found it’s way so effortlessly over his body, she didn’t notice Liam’s eyes opening. Confused at first, though softening when seeing her by his side. His arm tightening around her waist, pulling her closer. The sheet covering her chest falling down, exposing her cold skin to his warm one.

“Morning, love,” he greeted her, leaving a soft kiss on her lips. His voice raspy and still lower than she’d ever heard it before.

“Morning,” she answered back, a slight heat rising up her neck and rushing to her cheeks the longer he looked at her. His eyes never wavering from her own gaze, fixated on him.

Drawing small circles on her hips, he smiled as she took his other hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. Slowly leaving a trail of kisses up his arm, over his chest and on his neck, he let out a soft groan in reaction. His nose pressed against her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her bare skin.

Her soft lips gently sucked against the flesh under his ear. Giggling against his skin when she felt his arms around her waist tighten. His hands squeezing her hips.

Two bare chests pressed against each other, falling and rising in sync. Breathing as one.

“Wait, love. Stop.” His voice sounded desperate, like she hurt him. Soft, gentle kisses pierced a dagger through his heart, every single one a mark now on his skin. A reminder of his sin.

Bagging away slightly, she draped the sheet over her chest again. Looking at him with wide eyes, fear soothing through her that she’d done something wrong. Was it too much? Was it not good enough?

Seeing the look in her eyes, thoughts clearly spiraling through her head, he couldn’t form a good excuse. What seemed so easy with everyone else felt like a burden with her. Normally he’d say something like, ‘I promised my mum to be home already’ or ‘I should go, not that your parents find out’. But now, lying seemed to be too harmful.

“I need to -” he started talking, his finger pointing outside the window.

“You need to go?” Finishing his sentence for him, he nodded his head, shameful looking down, not catching the eye roll and sarcastic grin on her face before it disappeared again just as quickly as the realization came. Of course it was all just for a quick laugh with his friends. It was Liam Gallagher, for fucks sake. “I hope I’m not keeping you from going.”

Picking up her shirt and underwear from the floor, she quickly put them on, before walking over to the other side of the room and taking his clothes as well, throwing it his way before walking out the door.

A, “Wouldn’t dare to,” falling from her lips as she slammed the door shut behind her.

Still leaning on his elbows, Liam stayed like this as if he was frozen. The shower went off in the other room and that was when it hit him. He fucked it up completely. Throwing his head into the soft pillow he let out a groan. How could he not even find a good excuse to make it less shameful to walk out of her house?

He deserved it though, he decided ultimately as he found himself back out on the street, walking with his head low. He totally deserved it.

Unlike her.

Head leant against the door of the bathroom, she waited until she could hear the front door close before turning off the shower and letting the water from her eyes flow down her face. Of course he didn’t mean anything he said. Why did she even let him invite her to the gig anyway? Why did she have to go too?

When his body rushed towards her the night before, eyes lighting up as he found her and excitement being written all over his face, she believed that - maybe, somehow - Liam Gallagher wasn’t as much of a twat as she always assumed he was.

Though female intuition is barely ever wrong and that’s what she should’ve been listening to. Not the hammering of her heart or the lovesick thoughts in her brain for finally being seen by someone as more than just another face. It was her own fault.

Noel sat in the living room, feet propped up on the coffee table, eyes fixated on the telly, though he noticed when Liam walked in, the heavy stomp of his feet being too familiar.

Falling down in the seat next to him, a beer now in his hand, he popped open the can and starred at the people talking too. Neither acknowledging each other more than with their mind.

Until Noel spoke, “You weren’t too shite.”

“Thanks.” Taking another large sip, he tried ignoring his brother as much as he could.

“Though the songs sound like they’re written by a toddler. Did you write them then?” Noel was sure Liam would throw the telly at him as he said that with his sour mood, though he only chuffed, sinking further into the cushion. Trying to escape from this conversation. He knew where it would lead to.

“Not everything that’s shite in your mind is from me, alright? Cunt.”

Noel’s brows furrowed, why wasn’t he trying to strangle him yet?

“I’m not too opposed to the idea of joining anymore,” he tried it differently, trying to make his mood lighten.

“Cheers, mate. Gonna tell the others then.” His voice staying monotone and unwavering. Nothing could be a worse conversation topic at the moment in his opinion.

“Your bird’s fit.”

Jinx.

“She’s not my bird,” Liam tried, his voice growing defensive. Molding in the same tone that he had when talking to ehr the first time.

“So, she’s free?” Noel asked back, quite enjoying how deep in denial his brother was. Finally, Liam’s eyes snapped over to him, filled with horror and disgust.

“If you even try something, I swear-” before he could talk further, Peggy came in, a grocery bag in each hand.

“Would you boys stop fighting for once and help your mum carrying in the groceries?” she said, to which Noel immediately jumped up and went outside. Liam following him shortly after. The thoughts still running through his mind. He didn’t actually think she was fit, did he? Well, she was, but who was he to think that?

Later that night, when Liam was already laying in bed, cigarette in between his lips, Noel came walking in. He noticed how off his brother was for the whole day, of course he did. There was barely any talking done at the table, when normally Liam couldn’t shut up even if you’d sew his mouth shut. That night he was simply staring down at his food, not even eating it all. The worrying glance which Peggy sent Noel’s way after seeing her son this abnormal wasn’t easing his nerves.

“What’s got you so twisted?” He asked, sitting down on his own bed.

Liam leaned over, blowing the smoke from his mouth out of the window. “Nothing.”

“It’s about that girl, right? You fancy her and she didn’t want to hear any of it, because she knows you’re a cunt and rejected you, or what?” He asked further, remembering how defensive he got the first time Noel asked about her.

“I don’t fancy her,” was all he got as an answer.

“Sure.” Noel rolled his eyes, laying down himself. “She seemed nice though.”

“She is,” Liam agreed, making his brother’s head turn at the soft tone of his voice. “She’s too nice.”

“How so?”

Closing his eyes for a second, he knew he’d regret telling him what happened, nonetheless he did it. “I took her out because of a dare, and when she realized in the morning she didn’t even try to slap me or summat. She just-” his mind went back to her face, how she looked so distant yet like reality came back to her in the moment she realized. “She just walked out as if she should be ashamed.”

“You dumb cunt,” Noel groaned when Liam finished the story. He talked to her once, but from how she talked about Liam and defended him when Noel said that he had no trust in his brother’s abilities and interest in music, it made him feel proud in a way. Proud that Liam actually got somethin together for once in his life, he should’ve seen the downfall coming. And he did, just not that soon.

“You don’t just disrespect girls like tha’, especially no girls like her, alrigh’?” Noel threw his pillow across the room in Liam’s face, who only threw it back after complaining. “You make her feel seen and then you just push her off, that’s shite.”

“As if I’d listen to your advise,” Liam scoffed, taking another drag of his cigarette. Looking out of their window and down the street to where her house stood, he knew that Noel was right. Of course he was. You don’t just treat girls like that, especially not girls like her.

“Then don’t,” Noel shrugged. “But at least remember what Mum taught us.”

[navybrat817]

Can I join Ficlet Friday? Could we get something fun with Andy Barber and 29. Tickling each other? 🥺

Absolutely, Tori! I hope you enjoy!

Tickle Fight

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 500

Warnings: Established relationship, tickling, fluff

You waited on the couch for Andy, the aroma from the popcorn making your stomach lightly grumble. He insisted on relaxing tonight with a movie since his last case took a lot out of him. It was a win, but still an exhausting victory. A quiet night would be good for both of you.

Andy came into the room a minute later with a bowl for you to share. “Didn’t start the movie without me, did you?” he winked.

“That would be rude,” you smiled, taking the opportunity to snuggle close once he sat down. “Are we actually going to watch the movie?”

His chuckle warmed your skin, as did his beard when he kissed your temple. “Let’s see how far we get, honey.”

It was a few minutes into the movie that you noticed Andy hadn’t completely relaxed. There was a stiffness in his body, a small clench in his jaw. The case was lingering in his mind even if he didn’t know it. You had to help somehow.

Keeping your eyes on the screen, you lightly touched his side with your fingertips. He didn’t squirm right away, but he did cover your hand to try and stop you. “What are you doing?” he asked, holding back a laugh.

“Nothing,” you replied innocently, waiting until he focused on the television before you did it again.

“That isn’t nothing.” A soft laugh escaped when Andy squirmed, making you giggle, too. “You’re… distracting me.”

“Oh, is that what I’m doing?” you asked, turning to tickle him with both hands.

The laugh he let out made his entire face light up, and it was the happiest he had looked in weeks. You were so caught up in how beautiful he looked that he seized the opportunity to put his hands on you. “Andy!” you shrieked when his fingers grazed your sides.

“Oh, no,” he laughed, pulling you close when you went to move away. “You started this.”

“This means…” you couldn’t finish your sentence when you laughed again.

“War,” he smirked.

The war didn’t last long, the blend of laughter drowning out the sound from the movie. At one point you knocked a cushion off the sofa, and Andy ended up on top of you as you breathlessly giggled. “Y… You win!” you choked out, trying to put your hands up in surrender when your sides began to ache.

“Say that again,” he smirked, though his tickling was much gentler so you could catch a bit of your breath.

“You win,” you sighed, your chest heaving when he showed mercy and stopped.

“You put up a good fight,” he teased, stretching out on top of you. His heart pounded as fast as yours.

“Feel better?” you asked, not having to expand on why you were asking. He knew. And you saw in his eyes before he kissed you that he was finally relaxed.

“Much better,” he whispered, kissing you again. “Thank you.”

You didn’t make it through the rest of the movie, but Andy was back to himself and that was all that mattered.

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️

[yezhi1k]

Flowers & Cherries chp.2 (Jinx x Reader)

Notes: alrighty, we have finished chapter two! Apologies in advance for any typos, I am very very very bad at proofreading. This is a SFW chapter! As per the last chapter, this one is also on AO3 (MisanthropicMoose).

Summary: Your partnership with Silco and your friendship with Jinx have been going great for months. That is, until Silco makes an absolutely outlandish proposition, and Jinx seem to know something you don't.

CW: description of needles/injections

That night, the Last Drop was a chaos of blaring music, strobing neon lights and sweaty bodies writhing against one another in motions loosely resembling dance. Sitting at the bar, you occasionally glanced out into the crowd, fruitlessly trying to focus on someone or something in particular, only for your vision to once again be overtaken by a cacophony of vibrant stimuli. It definitely didn’t help that every time you got to the bottom of your glass, a new one, filled to the brim, seemed to appear in front of you as if by magic. You weren’t in the habit of binge drinking under normal circumstances, but you haven’t had a night off in so long that you were practically itching for a hangover. Your head was spinning, and with every gulp the worries of the previous months melted away. You felt good. Alive.

As you brought the rim of your glass to your lips again your gaze shifted from the crowd back to Jinx. She sat on a bar stool next to yours, legs swinging rhythmically, sipping on something from a tall glass through a straw. You wondered if whatever she was consuming was even alcoholic. From the way she stayed perfectly sober after several portions of the mystery liquid, you assumed it wasn’t. Or maybe this girl could hold her liquor like no one you’ve ever seen.

“So, he comes up to me and goes, ‘Freeze! You’re under arrest!’. And I went, ‘Actually, you are under arrest!’. And he got all confused, had this stupid look on his face,” Jinx grimaced, presumably imitating the man in question, then took a big sip of her drink. You watched as she reached for the straw with her mouth, the way her lips wrapped around it, throat bobbing as she drank. You felt your mouth go dry, and suddenly a warmth was rising to your cheeks. It was just the alcohol doing its thing, you thought to yourself. Just the alcohol.

You cleared your throat.

“And what happened then?” you asked. Jinx’s eyes met yours, and for a second you read genuine confusion in them before she seemed to recollect the topic of the conversation again.

“Ah, well while he stood there looking all dumb, I chucked a bomb at him. And he exploded. And died. That’s sort of how all my stories end if I am being honest,” she stated matter-of-factly, but you could have sworn you saw her face drop a little.

Your brows furrowed. You knew a little about Jinx’s history, about Vander and the kids. You felt sad for them, for her. Someone told you the story once, and, at the time, it was sobering. It was one of those stories that taught you that power in the Undercity always changed hands violently, and that no one, especially not the innocents, was safe from the violence. Such a tragic waste too. From what you heard, Vander and Silco were very close once.

You shook your head a little, trying to rid it of somber thoughts. That was the past, the past that had nothing to do with you, the past you couldn’t change no matter how much you tried. There was no point in dwelling on it, not on one of your scarce nights off, not when you had a new friend sitting across from you.

“You okay?” Jinx seemed to notice your discomfort. She placed a hand on your shoulder and looked inquisitively into your face. You gave her the best smile you could manage, but you knew perfectly well that in your inebriated state it came out weird and crooked.

“Yeah. Just need to lay off the booze for a bit, I think,” you groaned, pushing the half-empty glass away lightly. Jinx’s hand was still on your shoulder, and you noticed her rubbing small circles with her thumb. It felt good. Comforting.

“Well,” Jinx’s hand travelled down your arm and grasped your slightly larger hand in hers, “I want to dance!”.

With that, she hopped off her bar stool, dragging you down with her. You were too drunk to object as she dragged you onto the dance floor. You just followed the sight of two blue braids swinging behind her, letting her drag you by the hand wherever she pleased. When you finally made it, you tried your best to steady yourself on your feet, dodging the sporadically moving people surrounding you. The next song started playing over the speaker. A man was rapping in a language you didn’t understand.

Suddenly, Jinx’s face came back into view. She was standing in front of you, having let go of your arm now. Everything else faded away, sounds became muffled. You could only make out the beat of the base, and as Jinx started moving, no, flowing around you, you mimicked her movements the best you could. Your body nearly missed collision with hers as you slithered around one another, fingertips sliding over one another ever so slightly. Blue ribbons of hair flowed behind her, circling her body, and you found yourself mesmerized by them. As she came closer, you could feel her heat, somehow different from the heat of every other body around you. In that moment, no one else existed. Only her, flashing lights, and the base of the song. It was entrancing, intoxicating, almost meditative.

The magic ended as you tripped over somebody’s foot and started on your trajectory face-first to the floor. Thankfully, your fall was interrupted as Jinx moved in closer to you, propping you up.

“You know, for someone so allegedly badass, you are quite clumsy!”

The song playing now was much louder, and Jinx was shouting over the music now, a wide grin plastered on her face as she looked at you mockingly. You regained your balance and let go of her.

“I just… I just can’t really dance,” you shouted back, trying not to let your embarrassment show.

Thank God for the mind-altering properties of alcohol. If it wasn’t for them, you would’ve been burning alive with shame right now. Instead, you started shuffling and flailing around wildly, trying to match the erratic rhythm of the music. Jinx watched you with a cocked head, openly giggling at your antics. When she had enough, she took your hand in hers again and dragged you back to your seats at the bar.

“I think that’s enough of that,” she laughed, “If people find out Smeech has such an epic dancer as his right hand, he might get too full of himself”.

The reminder of Smeech suddenly jolted you out of your drunken haze. Your eyes somehow regained the ability to focus, and you scanned your surroundings thoroughly, trying to see if anyone was shooting you weird glances. The Last Drop was a relatively safe place for people like you, people rarely did their dirty work in, or anywhere around, the place. But you still always had to be on the lookout. For goons from rivalling gangs, for spies, for assassins that could be tracking you down.

Your change of demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by Jinx.

“No, no, no,” she pouted, shaking you lightly by the shoulders, “don’t go all professional mode on me. I like you drunk and cute”.

You took one final look around the place. Satisfied with the fact that no one seemed to pay the two of you any mind, you shot Jinx an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

The blue-haired woman climbed back up on the bar stool, put and elbow on the table and leant her head on her hand.

“What do you have to worry about, anyway? You are essentially Smeech’s Sevika and I am, well, Silco’s Jinx. No one in their right minds would fuck with us.”

“If only everyone around was in their right mind.”

Over the next several months, you have settled into a bit of a rhythm. Your meetings with Silco were relocated from the empty chem baron meeting room to his own office. The transition was a little bit unsettling for you; after all, having to enter what was essentially the most dangerous room in the entire Undercity couldn’t be comfortable. The first time you showed up, a tall, muscular woman in a conspicuous cloak blocked your path and glared down at you in a way that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You knew of Sevika, of course. You knew what kind of lethal appendage was hidden under that burgundy cloak. Being in the presence of such raw physical power made you feel incredibly small, despite the fact that you knew your reputation was comparable to hers, albeit for different reasons. You introduced yourself to her and made the dangerous move of initiating a handshake. Thankfully, she used her human hand.

You and Silco have developed a close partnership, tweaking your deals whenever the need came up. Smeech’s protection services of Silco’s shimmer transportation routes became a permanent arrangement, proving to be more than profitable for the both of you. Having to do business with Silco kept you sharp; your collaboration did not mean that he was willing to be charitable, and you had to keep your foot firmly planted to ensure that your goons were not getting cheated out of their share. You harbored no illusions; Silco was a slippery, cunning man and most definitely not your friend.

The same could not be said about Jinx. Though you understood the conflict of interest that arose from your friendship, whenever she would catch up to you in the alleyway leading out of Silco’s quarters and beg you to hang out, you couldn’t say no. You weren’t sure whether this was entirely due to your affection for her as a person, or whether it was some strange unfulfilled older sibling complex left behind after the death of your family. Either way, you liked spending time with her. And you could say that you simply got cocky enough to allow yourself such pleasantries without worrying about the opinion of the criminal world. Being friendly with a member of a rivalling gang was the least scandalous affair in your circles.

The two of you would often meet at the Last Drop, though you would sometimes pop into Jinx’s workshop and watch her work on various projects. She never built weapons in front of you, you assumed under instruction from Silco. That made sense. And you didn’t feel like making things awkward by saying the quiet part out loud.

All went smoothly, until it didn’t.

One afternoon, as you were on your usual stroll to Smeech’s office, you heard a short, sharp whistle emanate from a nearby alleyway. You recognized the signal – Silco needed to speak to you. You approached the alleyway cautiously, and as you peered in you were able to make out Sevika’s looming figure. The two of you stared at each other for a moment.

“Is something the matter?” you asked. A sheer layer of cold sweat suddenly coated your palms. You had set times and dates for meeting Silco, the routine had been uninterrupted for months at that point. If he went out of his way to send Sevika for you, something out of the ordinary must have occurred. And in your experience, out of the ordinary was, more often than not, trouble.

Sevika made a beckoning gesture and retracted further into the alleyway, being quickly engulfed by the darkness. You followed. It was cool and humid in there, and the skin on your forearms erupted in goosebumps. Your eyes haven’t yet adjusted, and you stretched out your arm, trying to navigate, until you felt your fingers brush a mound of something, covered in fabric. You snatched your hand back; that was Sevika.

“Silco has requested you come see him tonight,” Sevika started in a hushed tone, “Come alone, don’t tell anyone where you are going. Not the goons, not Smeech, no one, understand?”

You squinted in the direction of her voice, trying to make out her figure.

“Why so urgently?” you asked, “Our next meeting was scheduled for Thursday.”

An annoyed huff reached you from the dark.

“Because he said so.”

You had nothing to retort. If Silco wanted to see someone, they had better come running. That was just the law of nature around here. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Sevika spoke again. Her tone seemed to have marginally softened, maybe she took pity on you. She could probably tell how nervous you were getting.

“Seriously, I don’t know. Silco’s planning something, but he’s not telling any of us yet. Except for Jinx, probably,” you noticed an edge of disdain in the latter part of her sentence. It was, famously, Sevika’s job to clean up Jinx’s messes, so the fact that she was always more in the know about Silco’s plans than even his right hand must have been infuriating.

You shifted on your feet, mind racing, trying to piece together as much as a theory. Silco was always planning something, no doubt about that. But why did he feel the need to talk to you, of all people? You were not his goon. You held your own set of interests. Was he seeking your council? Support? These were ambitious suggestions, to put it nicely. You were great at solo assassinations and business negotiation, but that’s where your list of exceptional strengths ended. You were not a raid strategist, you had nothing to offer him in that regard. You had no intel on any Piltover adjacent affairs. If he was seeking you specifically, it must have been something concerning Smeech. But what could that possibly be? To your knowledge, everything was going smoothly between your respective gangs. Were you wrong? Oh God, did Smeech fuck something up?

While you stood there, trying to collect your thoughts, you felt Sevika’s cloak brush your side. She didn’t say another word, just slithered past you and out into the acid-hue light of the Undercity. You were now alone in the dark, listening to water droplets fall monotonously somewhere deep in the alley.

Okay.

Okay.

There was no point in panicking just yet. You had no information to work with. Silco always had a flare for the theatrical, perhaps he just felt like disturbing your peace to keep you on your toes. Remind you of your place, and such. Maybe he has a new urgent deal to negotiate.

Having decided on that hypothesis, you slowly emerged from the alley and continued on your way. You found yourself with your hands shoved deep into your trouser pockets, kicking an empty can down the street as you walked. What was it? What could it be?

Nightfall came quickly, and you were now standing in front of Silco’s office door, trying to steady your breaths. Be cool, be cool. It’s just another meeting. It’s just Silco.

‘Just Silco’? Have you lost your fucking mind? The man will let his shimmer-pumped mutations rip you apart for looking at him weird. He will gut you, armpit to asshole, and then go to dinner with Jinx like nothing fucking happened.

You should have left a final note, you thought to yourself as the door to Silco’s office opened and you stepped in.

You found Silco sitting in his high-back plush chair, as usual. But to your horror, he wasn’t leisurely exhaling rings of smoke, as he usually did. Both of his elbows were planted on the table, he was leaning forward slightly. His jaw was tense. He was tense.

You shot Sevika, who was holding the door open for you, a pleading look. You didn’t know what you were pleading for, precisely. You knew she wouldn’t protect you. If anything, if you were to die in this room tonight, she would be the one to finish you off. She didn’t react to your silent cry for help, but you could have sworn you saw her eyebrow twitch. Did she still not know why you were here?

You were now standing in front of the Eye of Zaun. The flame in his obsidian eye burned you alive, you suddenly felt small. Vulnerable. Naked, even. You were trapped, had nowhere to run or hide, no one knew where you were. No one would come to help.

“Take a seat,” the man gestured to a chair opposite him. You approached it, legs suddenly the consistence of gelatine, and lowered yourself onto it in the most collected way you could manage.

A heavy silence filled the room, interrupted only by the ticking of a clock somewhere out of sight. You could barely hear it over the sound of blood rushing to your temples. You felt a migraine start coming on. You suddenly wanted to cry, not from sadness or even fear for your life, but out of frustration. You have done so many jobs, put your ass on the line so often, ran as fast as you could on the shitty fucking hamster wheel of assassinations, robberies, meetings, missions, just to stay afloat. To stay alive. And now, now that you finally got good at it, now that you finally pulled Smeech’s whole gang and yourself out the vat of shit you’ve been stewing in for years by your own fucking hair, this smug, scrawny, deformed fucker was going to take it all from you? And you couldn’t even put up a fight? What a waste, what a massive, insufferable waste! Of time, of blood, of life! If you knew it would end like this, you would’ve just laid down in that rubble with the rest of your family and froze to death. Now you wouldn’t even get to visit their graves for the last time.

“Do you like working for Smeech?”

Silco’s words sliced through the tantrum in your mind like a knife. Your brain fell deathly quiet. All that remained was a throbbing vein on your forehead, and dull pain spreading to the back of your skull. What did he say?

“What?”

“I said, do you like working for Smeech?”

The headache was now roaring like a forest fire. Feeling like you’ve got nothing to lose, you brought your fingers to both temples and massaged them roughly, closing your eyes.

“He is my boss. Working for him is what I do. Whether I like it or not doesn’t matter,” you muttered through gritted teeth. Your eyes were still closed, and you heard Silco shift in his chair. That’s it. He was coming to slit your throat.

You listened to him get up and walk behind you. You stayed seated. There was no point fighting. A wave of exhaustion, the like of which you have never felt before, crashed over you. Your temples rang.

A feeling of cold fingers on both of your temples jolted you out of your trance, like a bucket of ice water being tipped all over you. You tried to rip out of your seat, but Silco’s elbows came down on your shoulders sharply, keeping you in place. He rubbed small, gentle circles over your temples, and a sob choked in your throat. What the fuck was he doing? Couldn’t he just kill you normally and be done with it?

“Do you want something for the pain?” his voice cascaded down on you in muffled waves. You looked up at him. You knew there were tears glistening in your eyes, and under any other circumstances you would’ve been embarrassed, but you were way too tired for that. Without thinking, you nodded.

Silco glanced over at Sevika and cocked his head towards a cupboard propped up against the far-left wall. She opened it, and after a few moments of rummaging extracted a vile of neon purple, sparking liquid, and a syringe. Shimmer. You instinctively tried to rip out of Silco’s grasp again. You hated the thought of taking shimmer yourself, as hypocritical as it seemed when considering yours and Silco’s arrangements. You’ve seen what bad strands did to people. One particularly bad month several years ago, after a bad batch hit the market, you had to put down several of your goons as they descended into madness. Silco’s grip stayed firm.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, applying some more pressure to your temples, “It’s a pain killer. Completely safe. I take it all the time for my eye.”

The pain was so bad now you could barely move your jaw. All you could do was watch through heavy eyelids as Sevika inverted the vile several times, inserted the needle of the syringe into it and pulled back the plunger. She held the syringe needle up and tapped it several times, bringing any bubbles to the top. She then pushed the plunger, letting a small amount of liquid shoot out, taking the remaining bubbles with it. By all accounts, you thought, they were trying to inject you safely.

As Silco let go of your head and moved in front of you, he held out his hand in Sevika’s general direction. You saw her eyes widen in confusion a bit before dropping the syringe into his palm. He was going to inject you himself, it seemed. How sweet. He lied to you. It’ll probably make you go crazy, make your brain go all mushy bananas.

“I’m doing this intravenously,” Silco muttered, squatting down next to you and rolling up your sleeve, “Because Singed found that this stuff gets digested too quickly to make it to your brain. It’s different for the eye. Its right there, you just inject it, and it works.”

You winced a little as he pushed the needle into your vein. The purple liquid seeped into you as he pushed the plunger carefully.

“Why are you doing this?” every syllable took all your concentration and still came out wonky, “If you are going to kill me, just do it.”

His blue eye found yours, eyebrow lifted in barely registrable surprise.

“Who said anything about killing you? I want you to stop being in pain so we can talk.”

The shimmer was coursing through your veins now in glowing purple streaks under the skin. With every passing second, the pain ceased. Your vision cleared, and as you blinked away the last of your tears you saw Silco discard the syringe in a little bin next his desk and sit back down in his chair. You were now being re-filled with energy, and the embarrassment you were too exhausted to care about before now raged through you. You cried in front of him. In front of Silco. You found yourself wishing he had killed you.

Silco watched as life poured back into you.

“Do you have these episodes often?”

“Only when I’m really stressed.”

“Do you get this stressed often?”

“No, this is the first in a while.”

“And why were you so stressed just now?”

You breathed out through your nose slowly.

“Because I thought you were going to kill me. And I didn’t know what for.”

Silco studied you for a moment, then nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with your honesty. He tapped the desk with his fingers.

“I called you here today,” he started, looking at you intently, “Because I want you to join my team.”

You blinked, struggling to understand what was happening. The pain was almost entirely gone now, but you were afraid your cognitive abilities were still lagging behind.

“But,” you stated carefully, “I work for Smeech.”

“I know. I want you to leave him, and start working for me,” he gestured towards himself.

Your eyes narrowed.

“With all due respect, I am not a rat. Smeech is not the best boss, I’ll admit, everyone knows that. I have a hard time working for him, he is lazy and incompetent. But he took me in. He put a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my stomach. Back, when I had nothing to show for myself. I worked hard to help make our gang what it is today, and I will not abandon it. I believe that the only way to build something worthwhile is through patience and integrity. Smeech is my cross to bear,” you realized that that must have been the longest you have ever talked at Silco. He didn’t interrupt, only listened closely, taking in what you were saying diligently. When you were done, he pulled out a cigar from the top drawer of his desk and lit it. A familiar scent of smoke filled the room.

“I don’t doubt your loyalty,” he sent a ring of smoke in your general direction, “Loyalty is the most important thing, I value it over anything else. But don’t you think it would be nice if Smeech and his goons repaid you with the same loyalty you show them? Wouldn’t it be nice for them to stick their neck out for you a little bit? Don’t you want better working conditions, to be treated with the respect you deserve? Sure, in my gang you will not be my right hand, Sevika is doing a sufficient job, but some little birds have told me that you are not after power or influence anyway. You will continue doing what you have been doing with Smeech, except without the extra responsibility of running the entire ship, and for better pay,” he paused and leant in closer to you, “As much as it hurts, sometimes we outgrow those we once shared a path with.”

The room fell silent again. Your thoughts swarmed. Silco’s proposition was tempting, of course it was. You have longed for the kind of lifestyle he described. But did you want it bad enough to throw away everything you’ve built, your reputation? To be known as the traitor that jumped ship when a better deal came along? Would Silco himself even be able to trust you after that?

“No,” you stood up from the chair and dusted off your pant leg, “I’m sorry, Silco. All of that is tempting, and I am flattered you would even make such a proposal in the first place, but I can’t do it. I may not have much as of right now, but I have pride. You must understand me.”

His mismatched eyes followed you as you turned to the door.

“The offer will stand up until the gathering tomorrow,” he called after you, “You remember that all of your goons have to be there, along with Smeech?”

He was talking about the big monthly gathering your gang had with Silco. A performance review of sorts. You nodded and turned your head to him.

“I remember. Everyone will be there,” you were about to get going, but then a tinge of guilt ran through you. You turned to face him fully.

“And thank you. For helping me today,” you gestured at your head, “I’ll pay you back for the shimmer. And I’m sorry.”

Silco waved at you dismissively. He didn’t say another word, and if you have known him any less you would’ve thought he looked… disappointed? But that, of course, couldn’t be the case. Sevika opened the door for you, and you slipped out into the night. Silco then dismissed Sevika. The office fell gravely silent.

Silco tilted his head up and looked up at the beam running along the roof above his desk. Off to the side, in the dark, a small, blue-haired figure sat silently.

“You heard her,” Silco called out towards the ceiling, “She made her choice. I did everything I could.”

The figure said nothing. It sat, hugging its knees, lightly rocking. Then, suddenly, it dropped down onto the table and dashed out the door at a superhuman speed. Silco only registered two long flowing braids flying past him before the figure disappeared into the night. He sighed and poured himself a drink.

You stomped through the crowded streets of Zaun, unceremoniously pushing anyone that crossed your pathway out of the way. All the fear, all the confusion, all the pain, all of it morphed into a deep, scorching anger that melted your stomach from the inside, burned up the walls of your throat. How dare he? How fucking dare he? Who did he take you for? A fucking rat, a snake, a worm? Why would he even make such a proposition to you? You have always been nothing but loyal to Smeech, that fact was the course of your pride. No matter how difficult, no matter how taxing, you made it work. And now he wanted to prance in, chuck you a bag of money, and expect you to follow him like a dumb sheep? Like a–

You were suddenly swept off your feet by some invisible force and thrown into the nearest alleyway. Before your eyes could adjust to the dark, your back was pressed against the cold brick wall, and another small body was pressing against you. You were about to shout, but a small hand with long nails clamped over your mouth.

“Shh, it’s me! Please, please just listen. Don’t say anything, just listen!”

You recognized the hushed, raspy voice. It was Jinx.

“Don’t go to the meeting tomorrow. Please just trust me, don’t go! Please,” she whispered inches away from your year, her breath ticked the crook of your neck. You pulled her hand off of your mouth.

“Jinx, what the fuck are you doing? Why shouldn’t I go? All my goons will be there.”

You finally made out her face. The dim light of the streetlight just outside of the alleyway reflected in the small beads of tears in her blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you, I really, really can’t. But you have to trust me! Tell them you are sick, tell them you got another headache, anything! Just don’t go,” she begged, pushing even closer into you. How did she know about your migraines?

You pushed her off you. Your voice was cold and stern now.

“Jinx, I am really fucking tired of the mystery games you and your daddy are playing. You either tell me what is going on, and why I shouldn’t go to my job, or I am going home. To sleep before an important meeting tomorrow.”

Halfway through your rant you realized you were being overly harsh. Jinx’s bottom lip was trembling and she latched onto you again. But you couldn’t stop yourself.

“I’m sorry… I can’t. Please!”

She was crying now, her voice breaking off into squeaks. You’ve had enough of this nonsense. You ripped her hands away from yourself again, her nails leaving red trails on your arms. Your head throbbed dangerously again.

“Jinx, please, I have to go home. We can talk about this tomorrow. I am sorry, but I am fucking exhausted from all the mind games. Goodnight.”

And with that, you stormed out of the alleyway, leaving Jinx behind. You knew it wasn’t right, you knew she was upset, and you should comfort her, but in that moment all you wanted was to sleep, for this nightmarish day to be over.

Jinx watched you leave, nervously picking at the nail of her thumb. The further away you got, the more hopeless the situation seemed. A tear fell onto her cheek.

And then, spontaneously, an idea was born. The girl quickly wiped her tears away, shot you one final glance, and started sprinting back home. She had a plan.