#there was an error in the last one's format...
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
soupysundae · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍
#luo binghe#shen qingqiu#sha hualing#mobei jun#shang qinghua#bingqiu#scumbag self saving system#scum villian self saving system#svsss#svsss fanart#myart#soupysundaeart#svsssaction#i finally have the opportunity to rant about my thought process and a few of the details but hey#hi if u saw this first on insta and on twitter#but first of all#those border things are specifically zhuzhi-lang’s snakes cute tongue and all was poking out but it doesnt even matter cause theyre covered#almost all texts were handwritten#the toucan touch was a last minute addition as my friends were somewhat with me halfway through making this drawing#“haha there’s two cans on vc because he’s sharing screen of its progress” and then they send multiple toucan pics on the gc#pelt them with rocks#if you think this formating seems somewhat familiar its because i was inspired by a tgcf magazine#orginally the oval at the top right was supposed to be a portion for sqq’s “reaction” to luo binghe coming 2 years earlier#the number 24? my favorite number. no it doesn’t align with the chapter number luo binghe comes back in the novel#the repetition of “next” was accidental. i repeated next twice at first and i said might as well take it a step further and add another one#then the mourning mourning blah text was just to fill up the space#i am so incredibly smart (never)#this binghe is somewhat smaller than the insta and twit post cause i just realized he kinda bothered me so#sucks cause i spotted the error hours later the art posts and it was too late to repost again#but its ok im fine with it (im not)
531 notes · View notes
cisthoughtcrime · 3 months ago
Text
.
#ok but fr marking undergrad essays is such a rollercoaster#i gave two very high marks today and was genuinely impressed and then the next three i marked were practically incoherent#one just copy and pasted their intro instead of writing a conclusion. like it's verbatim the same paragraph#i dont mark down for minor grammar and syntax errors because there's a high rate of ESL students...#... but some of the papers from native english speakers have me more concerned about functional illiteracy than I've ever been#these are 19-20yos in a humanities field at a top university! even the highest scoring essay had basic basic grammar errors and vocab misuse#at least i could tell what the student was trying to say there but some of the others...#if your punctuation and spelling and syntax are all so bad that i literally cant tell what you're trying to say there is a serious problem#even setting aside how many errors like these there were there's the flip side of the issue: actually writing an essay#the last one i marked yesterday had no structure or thesis or secondary sources#everything between the intro and conclusion was the same claim phrased in different ways with some irrelevant non sequitur quotes thrown in#no analysis other than the words 'analysis of this shows' which is *gasp* not a substitute for analysis#OH AND OMG#one made a direct claim about a figure's political stance and attached a footnote. i went to see what the student's source was.#the footnote literally said something like 'i know i should have a source here but it's only context and i don't want to waste my word count#like what???? do you think claims about relevant context don't need evidence??? and the audacity to not give a citation...#... and claim it's because it would take too many words away from your main argument??#just providing the actual citation for the claim would have been 3-5 words max but the footnote about not having room was 30 words#kid do you think i can't tell that you dont have that citation? do you think anyone's buying that you didn't include it to save space?#it's the very first footnote and most of the others are full-length bibliography entries jammed into the footnotes (which we don't require)#so either you were 'worried about space' at the first footnote then changed your mind as you wasted 250 words on unnecessary formatting#or you were over the word limit and were like 'gotta cut something!' and the only footnote you 'simplified for space' was a short basic one#^assuming i believed you. which i dont. because why would you think that would fool anyone.#i still have half the essays left. im tired and so disappointed in how little we're told we should expect from them
30 notes · View notes
coridallasmultipass · 4 months ago
Note
brocal for the ship bingo?
The OTP to end all other OTPs... (Man. This wound up being basically Cori's Masterpost of BroCal. AKA... this got long and has some images, since I realized I can post my own art directly instead of just a text link to it lol.)
Tumblr media
Wasn't actually expecting this to wind up with a bingo? But I got basically 2?? (Will explain the lighter heart later.) This is A LONG post, and definitely gonna get SUGGESTIVE, bc man, am I obSESSED with BroCal. I'm just gonna go thru each checked box, since I don't know how else to structure this post lol.
Read More to save ppl's dashboards:
I want them to make out with blood: OKAY. I HAVE A WHOLE THING PLANNED FOR THIS CONCEPT. I AM NOT GOING TO GO INTO DETAIL ABOUT IT JUST YET BC I ACTUALLY WANNA WRITE IT. I'm obsessed with this one fanart of Bro licking Lil Cal, and it spurred on an idea I outlined and really wanna write: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/739969858334294016/hiiii-mutual-i-am-secrecy-asking-if-u-have-anymore
((Sorry for the plain text links, Tumblr app is NOT cooperating with me right now to add hyperlinks. I'd post the image directly if that one was mine.))
Basically, I just really need to see Bro and Cal making out with blood in their mouths, and I started a whole convoluted, unrelated outline in order to make that hapen. It'll probably just be a really short thing that ends at the uh climax, since otherwise it's gonna end up sadstuck. And I don't like sadstuck lol.
Undeniably t4t: Bro and Dirk are always trans for me, and Lil Cal's got that uh... what percentage did I calculate it out to be? 13% of Dirk is in Lil Cal [ My shitpost calculations: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/746702663327072256/i-ran-out-of-tags-rambling-about-this-so-im-just ] so Lil Cal is at least 13% trans because of that much of Dirk being in him, plus however you feel about the other components being trans. LMAO this is ridiculous to type out. Moving on.
EDIT: FUTURE CORI INTERJECTING WITH A:
Tumblr media
"Lil Cal Top Surgery Healing Progess: Day 1"
Terrible for each other affectionate/derogatory: I don't even know where the affectionate/derogatory split occurs. I multiship BroCal as both Bro/normal puppet Lil Cal and as Bro/evil juju puppet Lil Cal, and whatever combination in between or outside of that. Terrible in that Bro is so obsessed with Cal that he doesn't have normal relationship/social skills and uses Lil Cal as both a crutch and motivator alternately, in a terrible cycle, or maybe rather... spiral. And also terrible in that Bro is caught in the allure of playing the role of puppeteer while also being a puppet for the darker parts of Lil Cal, whether he actively knows it or not. (Honestly though, I feel like it's dismissive if you try to blame all of Bro's faults on Lil Cal like this tho, which is why I tend towards liking Lil Cal as just a regular puppet a lil bit more. Or at least, a regular mildly supernatural puppet since that can be a little more entertaining if Cal can get into mischief while no one's looking or give off the vibes of his mood more directly, rather than like entirely inanimate or 'just LE, trapped in a puppet body.' Again, I like all of these concepts.) ((I mean that can also be a whole post of its own, like, by the time Bro gets ahold of Lil Cal, are any of the other components still alive in there? Like, are ARquius and Gamzee still in there or did Caliborn kill and consume them entirely? Idk how it works, man. This is why I like Lil Cal as his own person, maybe just influenced by the feelings of the others. LaCroix: CalGamARquius essenced water. Lil Croix.))
They need to get weirder with it: YES YES. 1000% YES. I need entirely shameless Bro doing entirely shamless things to Lil Cal. I want them inseparable and doing unspeakable things to each other. I want Bro taking full advantage of Cal having a puppet body and all the intimacy that comes with making repairs and being elbow-deep in stuffing.
Playing with them like dolls cute/psychological torture: This is the same divide as with the 'terrible for each other' point, so I'm just gonna go with the cute one, since the torture one is self-explanatory. I want them fucking married. Like. Full mushy cute romance type of relationship that Bro has never felt for any of the people in his life (cough aromantic cough). I made this comic not too long ago, and I often fondly look back on it, because I adore the concept of Bro being lovey and romantic and everything out of character around Lil Cal because he feels safe and loved and comfortable around Cal:
Tumblr media
[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/750602227910131712/brocal-4-lyfe-so-i-had-this-idea-of-dave-being ]
I made a post a long, long time ago (not gonna link that one bc it was personal and I was being very obviously mentally ill ["C'mon, like you're not being obviously mentally ill while typing paragraph upon paragraph about BroCal still in 2024 like 10 years later??" Fair.]) But the gist of it was that, like, having objectophilia or objectum sexuality is like, from an outsider pov, it's a way to express love to yourself. You filter all your self-hate through the object you love, and you get back unconditional love in return.
Lil Cal is never gonna hate Bro, no matter what Bro does. As a regular puppet, Lil Cal doesn't have the capacity for hate. And so that only brings them closer, since Cal is never gonna reject Bro for any reason. (Back to being a crutch. RSD is real, and Dave is probably a big trigger for that since he's not on the same wavelength of weird as Bro [not blaming Dave, obviously, this is a post about BroCal].) Bro can experience receiving positive attention from Lil Cal, without feeling 'fake' or uncool by expressing that same attention or affection directly to his own self. (Things are always done through multiple layers with the Striders, aren't they?) ((And I'm not saying Lil Cal doesn't love Bro, or that their relationship is just pretend - it's real, I'm just like, 'What's going on behind the curtain in the mundane situation?/ How is the relationship appealing?' Lil Cal luvs Bro 5eva 4 lyfe and that's a hard fact. Could cut diamonds with that shit.)) Example: maybe Bro is dealing with a bout of body/gender dysphoria and is trying to take out his frustration with working out, and it's not helping, even if he's powered through a set better than normal. Then, he notices the way Lil Cal is watching him, and he can feel the excitement seeping off Cal. He can sense the echoes of a wolf-whistle ring out through his mind, and it's like. Okay, none of that shit from before matters, he's got all the validation he needs right there in Lil Cal. Maybe flex in Cal's direction, Bro?
Oh, so back to being cute: isn't it wonderful how the template maker phrased it as 'playing dolls'? But yeah, I want all the mush and everything. Bro has a whole wardrobe for Lil Cal for every minor event that occurs in the Strider household. I want them going on genuine dates. Maybe even... holding hands. Bro blushes for the first time since he was 16. He even gets to take Lil Cal with him when he goes out to DJ or put on a show. Not to mention the whole website business. (I've talked about Cal's role in that before, but I'll mention it in a moment...)
They will die in a heart shaped pool of blood: I mean, kinda did happen, even tho Lil Cal didn't perma die right there. I don't think this one needs any explanation, since it basically happens in canon.
'You should see the other guy...': Okay, so. About 11 years ago, I had a really great idea. About how smuppets enter this world. I expanded on it in the following more-recent post (adult only content lol): https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741683686717669376/back-in-the-day-my-friends-called-me-insane-when-i
To sum it up, whenever Bro makes a new smuppet design, he then gives it a video debut on his website, where uh, Lil Cal births the smuppet like it's a horror movie scene, fake blood and poly-fil gore all over the place as the smuppet crawls out from the viscera. Bro then gets to play aftercare by lovingly and gently cleaning up and restuffing Lil Cal as they get to admire their new creation and rake in the dough lol.
So it's technically not a 'you should see the other guy' kinda situation, but it does involve one of them being... idk what word would describe it. Injured by the other? Usually a character loses a fight and says this to act like they got out of it better than the other guy, but... We could have someone knock on the door during the filming of a scene like that, and Bro has to answer it with fake blood up to his elbows, and be like 'You should see the other guy.' (But obviously, that's a terrible idea and would cause more trouble than it's worth... Maybe worth it for a persistent door to door salesperson, though.)
Though, I guess I should also say, I'm not opposed to Bro beating on Lil Cal in or out of the bedroom. Or in the case of animate Lil Cal, Cal choking out Bro. In or out of the bedroom, lol. Depends on the situation, like I said I will ship this ship any which way. But my preference for animate Lil Cal is to be like a totally normal puppet around Bro (or mushy in-love with Bro) and then evil-murder-puppet towards anyone else in Bro's life, like a... toxic yaoi guard puppet. (New Phrase Achievement Unlocked!) Bro brings home another guy to have sex, who tries to stay the night due to the late hour, but the guy wakes up shortly after to see Lil Cal standing there with a knife in the dark, eyes glowing red. Panic ensues when the guest screams and freaks out, and by the time Bro's got a light on, grabbing his sword, ready for a ninja vs ninja fight (bc an intruder would've had to bypass all the traps), Lil Cal is just innocently splayed across the desk chair, no knife in sight. Relevant post (well, the caption on the post too, saying how Bro can't seem to hold onto any relationships besides Lil Cal):
Tumblr media
[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/741830516962164736/i-want-you-so-youre-mine-always-selfishly ]
Uh, lol, also Cal choking out Bro in the bedroom, adult only drawing: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/754328907438800896/i-wouldnt-wanna-be-my-ex-when-he-found-out-who
Thinking about them always and forever: Listen. My Tumblr as proof, I've had BroCal on the brain for at least 11 years at this point. Definitely longer, since I first started reading Homestuck. I fucking love puppets and dolls and plushies and I always have. Man, if I hadn't deleted Tweets (automated app I used to do, and I couldn't choose what to save) from when I was in high school, you could've seen me @ ing my fave band when they were taking lyric suggestions on a fan-inspired album, where I was telling them 'make a song where the theme is puppets' and, while I don't know if they saw that or took the suggestion (they had responded to me before bc they weren't huge yet), there is indeed a song titled "Puppets" on that album, and it was my favourite song on there. Point is, I was fated to ship BroCal before I even knew it existed.
Sicko 2 sicko communication: I mean, does this even need explaining? Bro and Cal aren't just on the same wavelength of freaky, they're the fucking source of the wavelength, and it's causing a feedback loop between them. And it does as feedback does, which is, it amplifies with time. (Going back to the spiral symbolism here, lol.) ((Actually, time can play a symbol here, too, I guess, but idk how to word it, I'm starting to run out of steam.))
Let them have a happy ending: God, I need this so badly. I know Bro's story ends in Homestuck, but like. Pls. Someone needs to officiate their wedding. Currently placing the dreambubble order, but I can't organize a wedding by myself. OH speaking of. In that lil comic I did above, where Bro is accepting Lil Cal's proposal, I had the Natural Born Killers wedding scene in mind. I was gonna draw that as a follow up, but I think I have too many WIPs going. Just two people on the run, saying "I do" in a scenic but completely ordinary roadside location. Idk why, I keep going back to that movie for things related to Bro (I mention it in a very important scene in a longer WIP I've been writing, as something Bro watched and internalized as a kid lol.) It's not the best movie lol. Anyway.
The devotion omg: I feel like I have already gotten my point across about this, but let me reiterate:
Tumblr media
[ https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/735842968450269184/in-the-name-of-iconic-magical-girl-anime-ill ]
Bro and Lil Cal absolutely beat the shit outta Jack Noir before he gets prototyped. And even then, they fight together till the death, like. C'mon. Nothing more romantic than fighting a losing battle side by side. Also, like, Lil Cal having his own protective chest for safekeeping as seen in the Strider living room? Like, you don't just have a protective case for any old thing, especially something meant to be handled, especially something that is regularly used to smack other things/humans. What I'm saying is, Lil Cal is durable and resilient, and yet, Bro still has a case for transporting Cal safely. Oh, wait, I just thought of something funny, what if Lil Cal goes feral like a cat, and basically the chest is like a cat carrier so Bro can drive without being constricted lmaoooo, I've been typing for hours can you tell?
Kind of homophobic: Listen. I HAD a Cal. Took him to college. Staked my claim on the top bunk bc I am royalty. Proceeded to not have anywhere to set my water cup and had to use a cardboard box as a table up there. Spilled water. Melted Cal's sharpie-drawn face. And then proceeded to cry. I have a WIP of Lil Cal 2, but that requires actually remembering to work on him. I wanna do better by the pattern, too, since I rushed to finish the first. I have all the material! I have the project started! So it's just a matter of reordering my WIP priorities, honestly.
Where is all the fucking content?!: For realzz. I was actually venting about this the other day (didn't end up posting it), but it's like, either there's no BroCal content, or there IS BroCal content, but I can't reblog it for reasons I don't want to get into on this post. I'm dying of thirst in the ocean, basically. Whatever. This just means I need to make more BroCal content myself, which I am more than happy to do. I've just had a rough past few months, so I'm glad I got to type all this post out, and hopefully I can get back to creating soon.
Last one! I hope this one makes up for the absurd length of the post, it's prob my new fave idea I just came up with on the spot.
[TW drink spiking by a stranger mentioned in this.]
Committing atrocities as their silly little activities: I think we all know what this means, but I am going to ignore that elephant with my special x-ray vision. Because this is a BroCal post. I'm digging deep to the meat and bones of this. Honestly, this could go multiple routes, it depends on how you take your Lil Cal.
One could place emphasis on the 'guard' part of the, ahem ahem, toxic yaoi guard puppet. Maybe someone is actually trying to harm Bro, and Bro legit can't do anything for reasons outside of his control - let's say his drink got spiked a while after he invited a stranger home that he thought was chill. As Bro gets shoved down on the futon, his memory of the night is only a few flickers. Familiar orange plush, roiling around above him like a dancing windsock. Flashes of Lil Cal's face all distorted and stretched wide like a funhouse. J-Lo and Ice Cube on the TV. But when Bro is finally able to fully wake up in the morning, everything is as if he just got home alone last night and passed out on the futon. Cal looks totally normal and content tucked under Bro's warm arm. Except when Bro gets up, there is a pair of shoes too big to belong to him at the door. Maybe Bro knows. Maybe instinct tells him to run. Maybe he does, but he's running towards Lil Cal, every time.
#apologies for being entirely unhinged about brocal. this isnt even the half of it#the-meat-machine#asked#praying my internet posts this in one go in the correct format. rip to everyones dashboard if it doesnt#im not turning on my pc to correct it if i cant fix an upload error from mobile#homestuck#brocal#otp5eva#stridercest#long post#Cori.exe#Post.exe#im like staring at my phone scared to hit the post button bc if tumblr has a fit then idk what ill do#and its like okay i could just put my phone down and go to sleep.#but what if tumblr decides to post it AFTER IM ASLEEP AND CLOGS EVERYONE WHOS FOLLOWING ME'S DASH#if that readmore doesnt save where its supposed to... (has happened before)... i am genuinely so fucking sorry.#oh oKAY WAIT compromise. ill save it as a draft first so the bulk of the upload happens privately in case something goes wrong#bc knowing my internet and how i was fighting hyperlinks last night and today that still wont work. something is gonna go wrong#fingers crossed the draft saves tho i dont wanna copy all this shit from the 'in case of emergency' screenshots i took lol#anyway i really need to get ready for bed fuck lol literally took me hours to type this and its not even polished ughh#toxic yaoi guard puppet#omg tho 'lil cal top surgery' idea had me dying when i remembered theres canon cal sewn up like that#i gotta remember to post that separately tmr#i got this post draftes and gna post now. im seeby#oh wait#puppets#suggestive#striders#man if i wish i started w the last point but i dont have the energy to reorder everything#nini im going seep 4r this time
11 notes · View notes
radioregine · 7 months ago
Text
ooh lord the weight that just got lifted from my shoulders.
6 notes · View notes
minorcharactertournament · 2 years ago
Text
Who is the Best Minor Character?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Here is the bracket for Best Minor Character, Round 1 begins Monday, February 20, 3pm EST.
Further information regarding character sources, matches, and schedules, is in the read more.
MATCHES AND SCHEDULE
ROUND 1 Left (1-8) / Monday, February 20, 3:30pm EST Match 1: Cabbage Merchant (ATLA) vs Hot Dog Vendor (Madness Combat) Match 2: Gorn Captain (Star Trek: TOS) vs Charlotte (JJBA) Match 3: Morshu (Zelda: CDI) vs Old Joe (BrBa) Match 4: Midori Ōmama (Nichijou) vs Shin Amon (Yakuza) Match 5: Franco (Professor Layton) vs Fred the Fish (Spongebob) Match 6: Steve (Owl House) vs Associate Crow Lord (Dragon Prince) Match 7: Araya Kagami (AI:TSF) vs Tangle (Splatoon) Match 8: Gashloog (Invader Zim) vs Addison(s) (Deltarune)
Right (9-16) / Tuesday, February 21, 3pm EST Match 9: Tad Strange (Gravity Falls) vs Supportive Shade (Hades) Match 10: Willow Hood (Star Wars) vs Padparadscha Sapphire (SU) Match 11: Stoop Kid (Hey Arnold!) vs Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (Hamlet) Match 12: Signal Lancer (Transformers) vs EnEn (Precure) Match 13: Natsuo Todoroki (BNHA) vs Noid (Disco Elysium) Match 14: Bucky the Chicken Devil (CSM) vs Makino (One Piece) Match 15: Barry the Chopper (FMA) vs String Theory (Worm) Match 16: Ron DeLite (Ace Attorney) vs Royal Guard 01 & 02 (Undertale) ...and again!
ROUND 2 + LOSERS R1 Left (1-4) / Wednesday, February 22, ~7pm EST Match 1: Cabbage Merchant (ATLA) vs Gorn Captain (Star Trek) Match 2: Morshu (Zelda) vs Midori Ōmama (Nichijou) Match 3: Fred the Fish (Spongebob) vs Steve (Owl House) Match 4: Tangle (Splatoon) vs Addison(s) (Deltarune) Left Losers (L1-L4) (I mislabeled them) Match 3: Hot Dog Vendor (MadCom) vs Charlotte (JJBA) Match 4: Old Joe (BrBa) vs Shin Amon (Yakuza) Match 1: Franco (Layton) vs Associate Crow Lord (Dragon Prince) Match 2: Araya Kagami (AITSF) vs Gashloog (Invader Zim)
Right (5-8) / Thursday, February 23, ~7pm EST Match 5: Tad Strange (Gravity Falls) vs Padparadscha Sapphire (SU) Match 6: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (Hamlet) vs EnEn (Precure) Match 7: Noid (Disco Elysium) vs Bucky the Chicken Devil (CSM) Match 8: Barry the Chopper (FMA) vs Ron DeLite (Ace Attorney) vs Royal Guards 01 & 02
Right Losers (L5-L8) Match 7: Supportive Shade (Hades) vs Willrow Hood (Star Wars) Match 6: Stoop Kid (Hey Arnold!) vs Signal Lancer (Transformers) Match 5: Natsuo Todoroki (BNHA) vs Makino (One Piece) Match 8: String Theory (Worm) vs Northern Cardinal (Wingspan)
ROUND 3 + LOSERS R2 / Friday, February 24, ~8pm EST Left (1-2) Match 1: Cabbage Merchant (ATLA) vs Midori Ōmama (Nichijou) Match 2: Steve (Owl House) vs Tangle (Splatoon) Left Losers (1-2) Match 1: Charlotte (JJBA) vs Old Joe (Breaking Bad) Match 2: Franco (Professor Layton) vs Gashloog (Invader Zim)
Left (1-2) Match 3: Tad Strange (Gravity Falls) vs EnEn (Precure) Match 4: Noid (Disco Elysium) vs Ron DeLite (Ace Attorney) Right Losers (1-2) Match 4: Supportive Shade (Hades) vs Signal Lancer (Transformers) Match 3: Natsuo Todoroki (BNHA) vs Northern Cardinal (Wingspan)
ROUND 4 + LOSERS MERGE / Saturday, February 25, ~9pm EST Left (1-2) Match 1: Gashloog (Invader Zim) vs Cabbage Merchant (ATLA) Match 2: Steve (Owl House) vs Miss Charlotte (JJBA) Right (1-2) Match 3: Northern Cardinal (Wingspan) vs Tad Strange (Gravity Falls) Match 4: Noid (Disco Elysium) vs Supportive Shade (Hades)
ROUND 4 Results / Sunday, February 26, 9pm EST
SEMI-FINALS / Monday, February 27, 3pm EST R4M1 Winner vs R4M2 Winner R4M3 Winner vs R4M4 Winner
FINALS / Tuesday, February 28 ~7pm EST R5M1 Winner vs R5M2 Winner
RESULTS / Wednesday, March 1
Example of what final bracket should look like, I didn't include the losers bracket in the second image to not over-complicate.
Tumblr media
ROSTER
(First image, from left to right, top to bottom)
Cabbage Merchant (Avatar: The Last Airbender)
Hotdog Vendor (Madness Combat)
Franco (Professor Layton and the Curious Village)
Fred the Fish (Spongebob Squarepants)
Tad Strange (Gravity Falls)
Supportive Shade (Hades)
Natsuo Todoroki (Boku no Hero Academia)
Noid (Disco Elysium)
Gorn Captain (Star Trek: The Original Series)
Charlotte (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Part 6: Stone Ocean)
Steve (The Owl House)
Associate Crow Lord, formerly Crow Master (Dragon Prince)
Willrow Hood (Star Wars: Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back)
Padparadscha Sapphire (Steven Universe)
Bucky the Chicken Devil (Chainsaw Man)
Makino (One Piece)
Morshu (Zelda CDI/Link: The Faces of Evil)
Old Joe/Junkyard Joe (Breaking Bad)
Araya Kagami (AI: The Somnium Files)
Tangle (Splatoon)
Stoop Kid (Hey Arnold!)
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (Hamlet)
Barry the Chopper (Fullmetal Alchemist)
String Theory (Worm)
Midori Ōomama (Nichijou)
Shin Amon (Yakuza/Judgement)
Gashloog (Invader Zim)
Addisons (Deltarune)
Signal Lancer (Transformers: Cybertron)
EnEn (Pretty Cure All Stars)
Ron DeLite (Ace Attorney)
Royal Guard 01 & Royal Guard 02 (Undertale)
47 notes · View notes
wearily-confused · 1 year ago
Text
Fuxk apple
Next time I hear my dad advocating for it, I'll have a 2 day debate ready for him
1 note · View note
anisespice · 6 months ago
Text
“ baby steps ” || tokyo rev.
Tumblr media
continuation of this post.
pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]
warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, ANGST w/ comfort (mostly in mikey's), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be A LOT of errors :// mikey's is LONG, ran + sanzu's are silly goofy, mikey + sanzu's are a lil unhinged lol and i think that’s it :))
notes: can i just say thank y'all so much for showing "accidents happen" the love that i didn't think it would get, it was made on a whim so i'm so so so happy y'all enjoyed! i tagged as many as i could (or that tumblr would allow) sorry if i missed some of you :( thank you for your patience and let me know how you feel about this continuation format :) !! notes ii: also also, pt. 2 for "accidents happen" coming soon! notes iii: MY COMPUTER CRASHED AND I THOUGHT I LOST EVERYTHING BUT IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY :'))))
tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow , @captaincyberqueen , @cherryblossiren , @niragiswhore , @awkwardaardvarkforever , @valentsoup , @lovely212 , @miffysoo , @yandere-kouhai , @i-am-just-a-girl-ur-honor , @wisteriarose214 , @kindadolly , @yuwaimo , @sweetbella1221 , @simpingfor-wakasa , @sirachano0dles , @yutahg , @slowlikehonee , @blurpleuni-squid , @haruchiyoreen , @istanstraykidss , @loyard176 , @msluccapotato , @luv444lay , @backgroundcharactera , @jegelskeranime
Tumblr media
Ever since you picked up your daughter, there’s been a hovering presence that wouldn’t go away no matter where you went. From the park, to the grocery store, all the way home it clung to you like a bad itch. Despite looking over your shoulder and being met without any sort of threat, that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling. And it only intensified when you received a knock on your front door.
You made a confused hum, checking the time on the microwave to confirm that it was indeed past the reasonable hour for potential visitors. Not to mention, you weren’t expecting anyone.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, instincts telling you that something wasn’t right, that your best option was to pretend you weren’t home. However, the person on the other side knew otherwise as they knocked on the door again, this time with more fervor. You inhaled sharply, taking hesitant steps towards the door until you were mere feet away from it. Eventually, you worked up the courage to look through the peephole, your brows furrowing in distress when all you could see was black—They were covering it. All the more reason not to open the door…
What if it’s a robber? Ridiculous, they don’t knock.
What if it’s just the neighbor? Why cover the peephole?
More and more did your mind swirl with endless possibilities, each one becoming less and less believable. Taking a long, deep breath, you doubled-checked the door-chain was on before slowly cracking it open. And as you attempted to peek through the sliver, nothing could’ve prepared you for the arm that forced its way through, startling you as you yelped, stumbling back as it made a grab at you.
Before you had the thought of shoving the door closed on the offender’s arm they grabbed the little chain, then yanked it clean out of the wall. To your terror, a dark hooded figure entered your home, head hung low, concealing their identity.
You began to hyperventilate, backing up to keep distance as they staggered further into your home before kicking the door closed behind them, effectively blocking you from the exit. Surely, someone heard your scream and would check in, or call the police. But, how long did you have before the intruder decided to make a move? Not to mention, your sleeping child just down the hall…
With that last thought in mind, you immediately steeled your nerves.
Even if you had to use your bare hands, you were going to do whatever it took to keep your baby out of harms way.
You reached for the closest weapon without taking your eyes off the figure, hands clasping onto a discarded umbrella that was leaned up against a closet door. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Taking a defensive stance, you prepared for what you assumed to be the inevitable.
“I-I don’t know who you are, or what you want…b-but if you don’t leave…my..my boyfriend will be home any minute! H-He knows how to fight, and he’ll fuck you up if you try anything!”
Your means of intimation fall on deaf ears. It were as if you hadn’t spoken at all. They just…stood there. Watching you from the darkness. That feeling, that hovering presence you’d been weary about all evening…there was no doubt in your mind it was because of this individual. Suddenly, they gave a watery chuckle, hand coming up to rub the lower half of their face as the chilling noise dissipated into soft snickers.
You sweatdropped. ��I mean it! He’ll be here real soon, so you better get out of here before-”
“[_____]…” the figure finally rasped, voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t decipher in the moment. You froze, eyes widening.
“…How the hell do you know my name?”
Without much urgency, they stepped forward into the light. Beneath the warm glow, it took you mere seconds to recognize the person standing before you. You gasped, trembling hands dropping the umbrella, it landing with a harsh clatter. Soft, mortified hitches in your breath echoed through the small space, memories flashing before your eyes as you covered your gaping mouth.
“M.. Ma..” you whimpered, throat tightening. A shell of a man, who gazed upon you with stormy eyes flooded with tears at the mere sight of you.
He gave another strained laugh, muttering to himself as he soaked you all in. “Needed to know.. Needed to know it was really you…”
Mikey eyed you up, intensely, eerily silent as he did so. Then, he took in the surroundings, the warmth, the interior, the smell of dinner—It truly felt like a home. A bitter pill to swallow once he reminded himself that you built it without him.
His sharp gaze returned to your stunned expression. He sneered.
“Must’ve been easy for you. To forget me and move on, just like that. Like I was nothing.”
You blinked, taken aback. All you could do was remain speechless, cemented to the ground with thoughts and questions racing in your head. Now matter how many times you opened your mouth, no sound would come out aside from choked whimpers.
“Do you know…how long I’d been searching for you? Been mourning for you?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “When you left, I thought… I thought someone had taken you. That I lost you all because I was too stubborn to say I’m sorry…”
As he spoke, Mikey slowly closed the space between you. The more he came into the light, the more you could see how the years had treated him. His cheekbones were more pronounced, the dark circles under his eyes as well. His lips were dry, cracked, his fair skin now ghoulishly pale. If not for the black hoodie you would’ve mistaken him as such; ghost of your past.
Your shoulders shook, hands hovering over your face as you gaped in disbelief. He’d been looking for you?
That night, that stupid fight you could barely remember…he made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you. He pushed you away. Pushed so hard that you almost believed he really wouldn’t have cared if you dropped dead. You knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was just another dark impulse…but none of that mattered when all your pregnancy tests came back positive just hours prior.
That night, you made the decision for the sake of your daughter. And also, for his sake. At the time, you were certain he wasn’t ready to be a father. He was quick to rage, merciless, losing himself to the darkness you tried to protect him from. If you had stayed, you were certain Mikey would’ve never forgiven himself if he lost control in front of his own flesh and blood, if the child grew to resent him for something he struggled to control.
You thought you were doing him a favor…but it appears to have done the opposite.
“And this whole time…you’ve been here, alive. Playing fucking house with someone else.”
You stiffened. Someone else? Your visible confusion only irritated him further.
He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You said it yourself. Too bad he won’t be coming home anytime soon. I’ve already got Sanzu and the Haitanis looking around for the bastard. And when they find him, I’ll make him regret sticking his filthy dick inside you.”
Confusion morphed into realization. You did threaten him with said hypothetical boyfriend…But, that was before you knew it was him!
“Oh, Manjiro…” you whispered. He glared, scorned.
“Don’t you dare pity me. I mean, you got the family you always wanted, right? So who cares who it was with, right? Congratu-fucking-lations.”
You shook your head, exhaling deeply as you held your face in your hands. For years, he thought you dead. Then, when he received word of your appearance, he finds you with child. And not once did he consider that child to be his? It’s like…he couldn’t fathom the thought.
If only he had looked just a little bit closer, he would’ve seen that she had his eyes. How they resembled those pools of ink that used to shine with so much hope back in his youth, so playful and full of love…those same eyes that now gazed upon you with contempt.
It stung.
He thought so low, not only of himself, but of you as well.
Taking a deep breath to reel in your emotions, tears began to well up in your eyes. He assumed they were tears for your doomed lover, further breaking his heart as Mikey clenched his fists to the point of nearly drawing blood. Luckily, even though you struggled to find the right words, someone else happily found them for you.
“Papa..?”
Both of you instantly drew your attention on the toddler standing near the kitchen, one fist clutching her blanket while the other rubbed the sleep from her eye. You glanced at Mikey, and he was stiller than stone. His once dead-stare had morphed into what could only be described as incredulous. Surely, he heard her incorrectly…
With a sniffle, you crouched down to address her, offering a soft grin as you nodded earnestly. “That’s right, sweetheart. Papa’s finally come home.”
The little girl blinked sleepily, taking a second to reboot. But, as soon as the words registered, a bright smile stretched across her face as she excitedly rushed towards Mikey, throwing herself onto his legs and hugging them like a koala as she chirped, “Papa, home!”
Said man hobbled a bit at the force, arms windmilling as he caught himself to keep from falling backwards. He didn’t know what to do with himself, especially when those big, round pools of ink opened and stared right up into his soul. Mikey’s heart nearly stopped. With a hitch in his breath, the gangster did everything he could to hold his composure, looking between you and the child as you both gazed at him with so much warmth…it was suffocating.
Sensing he was overwhelmed, you reached down to scoop up the bubbly bundle, holding her close as you eyed Mikey, apprehensively.
He resembled a cornered animal—Muscles stiff, jaw tight, eyes wild. After a moment, Mikey began to slowly back away into the shadows of your home, conflicted, devastated. It wasn’t until his back hit the door did he eventually fall to his ass, of which caused your child to giggle at how silly he was being. However, all you could do was hold back tears, watching as the reality started to weigh down on a man who just discovered he was a father.
Nervous, you gently explained. “I didn’t leave you because of our spat, Jiro…and I never moved on. I just…thought that I’d be doing more harm than good sticking around when I found out I was pregnant…I didn’t want to add any more stress on your plate, so I…”
Mikey didn’t respond. He sat there, stare vast and unfocused. But, you knew he hung on to every word. So you continued. “I wanted to tell you. But…I wasn’t sure how. At the time, I believed you had stopped caring about me altogether. And to hear you’d been looking for me, I-I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you harbored all that guilt. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”
Your daughter wiggled around in your hold, making small grunts in complaint. Her eyes were trained on his figure huddled in the dark, wanting to be acknowledged, wanting his attention. “Papa!”
Mikey flinched. He focused his gaze on the two you, haloed by the light emitting from the living room. You both were like salvation, reaching down to a broken sinner…How could she want anything to do with him? When he had missed so much already…
To keep from accidentally dropping her, you placed your daughter back on the ground, watching wearily as she wobbled all the way to Mikey, blanket in tow. You weren’t worried about him hurting her, far from it…if anything, he appeared to be the fragile one.
Eventually, she made it to her destination, standing before him with a curious, but eager expression as she rested a hand on his knee. Mikey watched her, took in all of her features, every last detail as he engraved it to memory. She was beautiful, just like her mother. One would think his genes didn’t stand a chance. But the eyes. That was all him. From his mother to his older brother to himself, there was no doubt in his mind that those were Sano eyes.
His lower lip quivered, reaching out hesitantly to caress her cheek. She didn’t cower away, merely babbled as she began patting his knee, allowing his thumb to rub over her chubby cheek. You clasped your hands over your mouth, growing even more emotional at the delicate moment. Mikey looked enamored already, eyes subtly sparkling from what you could see as they interacted.
“I-I told her stories, about you. And I made sure to show her photos, too. Old ones, but still you nonetheless. I wanted her to know who her father truly was. Despite everything else…”
Your daughter cooed, then placed her blanket in Mikey’s lap before climbing into it. Mikey didn’t dare move, rigid as she made herself comfortable. He looked up at you, looking for guidance, for reassurance. Your encouraging smile was enough for him to hesitantly place his hands on her small back for support, carefully adjusting so that she was stable. She laid her head on his chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sighing contentedly.
And, for the first time in years, he smiled.
Tumblr media
When you hadn’t seen her familiar pigtails bobbing around, or heard any of her excited chatter with the receptionist up front, worry couldn’t even begin to describe what you felt the moment you realize…your daughter wasn’t here.
As soon as the meeting looked like it was wrapping up, you politely excused yourself from the room. Masking your worry wasn't too difficult, but there's no doubt a couple people might've noticed the spring in your step as you exited. One of them being Rindou Haitani. He watched you speed down the hall with mild interest, corner of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly as he thumbed around on his phone beneath the table. Having been updating his older brother during the meeting while he was on his smoke break, he was more than eager to inform him of the storm that was no doubt heading his way.
Little did the younger Haitani know, he was already dealing with one.
"And then, Haruka-kun tries to take Momo-kun's bento box because she had cuter animal shapes, but Momo-kun already said no, and so Haruka-kun pushes Momo-kun, and then tries to take it! But I pushed him and hit him with my fist, like this," she clenched up her tiny fist and held it up to Ran before striking down on his forearm with all her might. It didn't even pitch. "Like that."
The lavender-eyed man merely gazed upon her with mirth. "Did you now?"
"Mmhm! And teacher got so mad, and said that she would tell Ma about me fighting, but she's stupid because Ma didn't pick me up today, and I told Haruka-kun if he snitches, I'll beat 'em up!"
Ran lowly whistled. "Quite the little menace, ain'tcha?"
She pumped her fists. "Yeah!" Then, she paused, holding a finger to her chin in thought. "Wait...what's a menace?"
"Ah, something you inherited from your old man." He ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure. Though her innocent jab earlier regarding his age still hit a sore spot, he was starting to like the sound of it. She, on the other hand, wasn't convinced.
"I already told you; Ma was on her happy juice when she said that. She said not to believe anything she says when she's on happy juice. It makes her do silly things."
Ran chuckled. He knew that all too well. The little girl wouldn't be in this world if not for your inability to hold your liquor. But judging based on how you've raised her so far, clearly you made the right decision keeping him in the dark.
He'll admit, he wasn't the best in terms of commitment. Throughout his day to day, Ran just didn't have the energy. With being in Bonten, keeping an eye out for his younger brother, handling business, dealing with numbskulls and disposing of their bodies, there was never a time to even consider settling down. One-night stands and on and off flings were the easiest choice. At least, until he stumbled upon you.
You were the whole package and more. Classy, independent, witty, and a looker to top it all off. When Bonten started collaborating with the organization you worked in, he couldn't help but to be drawn to you—Like a moth to a flame. It started out as the occasional bantering, trying to one-up the other, catch them off guard. Ran was smooth with his words but could never quite beat your sharp tongue. Thus, things escalated to something more flirtatious. Harmless, but it didn't take long before the months of tension between the both of you began boiling over...and throwing alcohol into the mix, it was the first time Ran finally felt like he had the upper hand. Seeing how poorly you handled just a few glasses of wine, it endeared him. Seeing a piece of you that no one else had the privilege to witness. Your sloppy side, the clumsy, whiny, touchy side. After that long, passionate night beneath the sheets, the one time you and Ran allowed yourselves the space to be vulnerable with one another...you found yourself pregnant. And Ran found himself being nonethewiser.
He wonders, if he hadn't left the next morning and completely ghosted you...would you have kept him in the picture?
Suddenly, his phone dings. Reaching back to pull it from his back pocket, Ran half expected it to just be another update on the meeting or Rindou cursing at him to hurry his ass back inside. But, it wasn't that at all. And at the sound of your kitten heels rushing out of the building and halting at the top of the steps, Ran didn't even need to look up to know who was glowering down from them.
"Hey, Ma! Guess what, the purple man isn't such a meanie after all!"
Ran snorted, finally looking up from his phone to greet the woman who not only still had his heart, but evidently his first child. You, on the other hand, weren't so thrilled to see him.
"Rika. Wait inside. Ma's got some words for the purple man."
He smirked. "Wanna say 'em over a glass of wine?"
"You son of a-!"
"Bad word!" Your daughter covered her ears. You flushed, your composure nearly slipping just by being in his prescence. Ran, immediately seeing the opportunity, teasingly pouts at you whilst covering her tiny hands with his larger ones, shielding her.
"Honey, please, not in front of the child. Can't have her repeating those dirty words at school, can we?"
You fumed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Haitani, as soon as I get her in this building, away from you, I swear to God, I'm gonna wring your neck."
He hummed, amused. "Well. Guess she didn't get her violent side from me after all. Speaking of which, did you know at school today-"
"Hey! No snitching!"
Tumblr media
“...What did you say?” 
You were hoping you heard the teacher wrong. Surely it was just your exhaustion taking the wheel. But, when her kind smile didn’t falter, nor did her gushes for the supposed “adorable display”, you immediately grew suspicious.
While heading home from work, you went to pick up your children from daycare. And when you arrived, the teacher merely informed you that it was already taken care of by your very handsome and very devoted husband. 
“I-I think you’re mistaken. My boyfriend and I aren’t married…”
The teacher, finally coming back down to earth, tilted her head in confusion. “Eh? You aren’t?” 
“Did he…say we were?” 
“Well, no. I just assumed since it was easy to tell who he was here for. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.”
You choked on your spit.  Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.
You did everything in your power to keep from strangling the poor woman. Sure, she didn’t do anything wrong per say…but she sure did make a grave error. And your struggle to restrain your intrusive thoughts must’ve shown on your face from the way she placed a concerned hand on your arm. “Are you alright, miss? You look like you’re about to faint.”
“M-Mhm, yep, great, just peachy.” You squeaked through clenched teeth, sweatdrop on your forehead. “Could you um…confirm something for me?”
“Uh.? Er, sure. I’ll try my best.”
With tense shoulders and a tight smile, you asked, “Their…father…did his mouth have two scars in the corners?”
The teacher blinked, confused. Shouldn’t you already know that answer yourself?, she was probably thinking. And she would be right; you did know. But her simple, hesitant nod was the final nail in the coffin that was your delusion—Haruchiyo Sanzu had found you. And to make matters worse, he had the children.
Your smile faltered, twitching ever so slightly. Covering it with a forced chuckle, you cried, “Oh, that’s..wonderful! He’s always been self conscious about them, and I’m j-just.. beaming with joy that he’s embracing them more. Have a nice evening, Ms. Yuki.”
The teacher didn’t get a chance to respond as you quickly turned on your heel and began speed walking home. You’d apologize for your abrupt exit another day…right now there were more important matters to worry about. For instance—How on earth did Sanzu find you? How did he know about the twins and where they were? Oh, God…did he know about Satoru?
Dialing him up a few times only for the calls to go straight to voicemail weren’t reassuring in the slightest, having you rush across oncoming traffic just so you could avoid any further delays for your fraying nerves. You could see your apartment complex up ahead, heart thumping in your throat at the familiar, black SUV parked a couple blocks down. Had it not been for the heavily tinted windows and no license plates, you probably would’ve overlooked it. He knew where you lived. Stomach in knots, muscles stiff, nerves shot. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. Your kids were safe at home, but at what cost? You stood in front of the building, rooted to the ground. Despite mentally preparing for this exact scenario for years, it all went down the drain the second you went to that daycare and discovered your children were missing.
It wasn’t until your phone vibrated did you snap out of your thoughts, shakily pulling the device out of your back pocket to check the notification.
from : unknown 1:06 pm     “ hi, mama.~ ”
Your stomach twisted. Attached to the message were two photos.
The first photo was of your kids eating McDonald's in the kitchen, happily cheesing and waving at the camera. You couldn't hold your choked gasp, hand coming up to hold your quivering lower lip—They were safe.
The second photo...was of Satoru. Tied to a chair, gagged, and beaten senseless. And standing behind him, holding him by his hair so that he could pose for the camera, grinning like a cheshire cat...
Another message pops up. Your grip tightened around your phone.
from : unknown 1:09 pm " daddy's home.~ "
Tumblr media
© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!
3K notes · View notes
rainbowbutterfrosting · 6 days ago
Text
I was playing ace attorney last night and had a realization of my true power. So here's some of the dream situation in ace attorney format lmao
PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP I SPENT SOOOO LONG ON IT
Note:
This isn't meant to be a proper summary, I'm just having fun sldfkj
If there's errors in the video then oopsie. I'm not gonna fix them just bc it would be too much effort. (Also, some things are worded weirdly bc I took them directly from videos. Primarily with stuff Dream's saying)
If there's errors in the transcript below, then let me know!! Though I haven't captioned everything in the video, just all the dialogue and some relevant sound effects.
In case anyone's curious, I used objection.lol
Transcription under cut, though I'd recommend watching the video for music and sound effects :]]]]] I just put it as an option for those who use screen readers, have bad connection, etc.
The second week of January 2025.
Chat, as the Gallery in Ace Attorney: GET HIS ASS. SLAY (LITERALLY) hi youtube
[Gavel slams]
Tubbo, as the Judge: Trial is now in Session for Dreamwastaken.
Tubbo: Dream, your opening statement, please.
Dream, as Cody Hackins: Tommyinnit posted a video yesterday that was titled "Dream" where he said a lot of stuff about me that isn't true.
[Hold it!]
Tommyinnit, as Phoenix Wright: Is it not true that you called my fanbase a slur?
Dream: Okay yeah, I did do that. I'm sorry. Genuinely.
Tommyinnit: Good. That was the absolute bare minimum.
Tommyinnit: But what about the misogyny? And how you and your friends treat women?
Dream: You have no examples.
[clever sound]
Dream: What if I just said you're racist and called it a day!
Tubbo: You called two different women "whores." Please amend your testimony.
Dream: Ah. Yeah, but it was to my friend. She wasn't upset at all!
[Objection!]
Ludwig, as older Phoenix Wright: Lmao
Dream: Okay but I meant it in the affectionate way!!! Like in the way I've called my cat a whore.
[Loud chatter from the Gallery]
Chat: SHANE DAWSON???? HE WHAT!!!!!!! [shuttering camera] I'm lost. Are they still fighting over discs?
Dream: Whatever, that's long enough ago. I did what I could about the situation.
Tommyinnit: My video wasn't just about that. It was also how you've been awful to me. It started with early Dream SMP when-
[Objection!]
Dream: Tommy, there's no way that you actually believe this. Saying I was terrible to you with no examples or anything- like- if you don't think that my intention was to help you, then what was my intention? Why did I do all of that?
[Loud chatter from the Gallery]
Chat: BRO THAT'S WHAT WE'RE WONDERING TEXTBOOK MANIPULATION POGCHAMP Is this new lore for c!Dream?
[Hold it!]
Tommyinnit: You thrived off of holding my success over my head! You didn't treat me like an equal!
Dream: [Desk slam] I saw potential in you!
Tommyinnit: Yet you called me a promoter for saying I was working on my podcast, book, and comedy tour?
Dream: [Critical hit sound] So why is my content worth less value?! I'm sorry that I like coding and hanging out with my friends??
[Gavel slams]
Tubbo: No one was saying that?
Tubbo: You keep taking Tommy's clips out of context. Shouldn't you be more responsible with the clips you take since you're aware of the gravity of some of these claims?
Dream: [Surprised Sound] Because-
Dream: You're saying-
Dream: Uh-
Chat: [lots of periods and question marks]
[Disappointed sound]
Dream: That's a good point, Tubbo.
Dream: That's actually a really good point.
Tubbo: Thanks. :/
Jack Manifold, as Winston Payne: [while applause plays] !! Shut Up I'm Talking Patreon ONLY $7 !!
1K notes · View notes
aurumalatus · 4 months ago
Text
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing. kinich x fem!reader
word count. 3.4k
genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise
summary.
you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots
author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!
Tumblr media
I.
“You’re annoying.”
The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.
It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.
His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.
“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”
“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.
“Then you need to get faster.”
Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.
After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year. 
“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.
The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face. 
“Okay, now you can play.”
He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.
“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”
Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.
“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”
You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.
“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.
“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”
And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.
You brighten at the prospect. 
“Really?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”
Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.
“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”
II.
The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.
“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.
Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.
“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”
He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.
He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.
“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.
“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.
“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”
He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness. 
“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”
Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.
But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue. 
You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.
“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”
The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.
And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.
You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.
He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”
You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer. 
“So? What did you tell her?”
And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.
“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”
A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.
“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”
He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”
“...Then what is your type?”
You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.
But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.
“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”
A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.
“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”
You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.
“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”
III.
Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.
He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places. 
It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.
That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.
His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.
“So then she was asking me about you.”
“Mhm.”
“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”
Everything falls still.
It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.
Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks. 
“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”
“Tell her we are, then.”
You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops. 
Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.
It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.
A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”
He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”
That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.
You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?
If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.
When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.
“No, I do,” you admit quietly. 
The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.
Of course, you don’t.
“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.
“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.
But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.
“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”
You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.
But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.
Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.
“I guess it is.”
IV.
“...that far, huh?”
Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.
You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him. 
An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.
“Kinich, I—”
“I get it.”
He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—
“You’ll come back to me, right?”
There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.
That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.
Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.
Maybe that’s why.
With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.
His fist clenches at his side. 
But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.
Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now. 
Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” 
V.
A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.
You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.
He’s here.
“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.
“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”
You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”
He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure. 
He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing. 
He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.
Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.
But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”
“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.
“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”
You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his. 
“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”
A rare half-smirk graces his lips.
“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.
He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.
“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.
Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 
“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”
You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.
And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.
You could never win against Kinich anyway.
(Maybe you never wanted to.)
978 notes · View notes
almostempty · 29 days ago
Text
right kind of dream (joel miller x f!reader) part two
Tumblr media
wc: 9k | other fics | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 | PART ONE HERE summary: part two of 'right kind of dream': rebuilding your life, chasing, cans, and hitchin' a ride to the rodeo with team roper joel
a/n: i battled five million error messages to deliver this bad boy so if something is weird or it seems like paragraphs are missing... they might be. i think some formatting got lost. i'll put the whole thing on ao3 asap. i am unsure what i've done to anger the tumblr hq but i apologize
@katiexpunk : here is part two, thank you for being patient, i hope the wait was worth it <3 tags: modern cowboy joel au/ team roper joel and tommy, no sarah, enemies to lovers, dbf lite, choose your own age gap, small town romance, city girl returns to the country, miscommunication, horsegirl!joel, smut, ridin' that cowboy bareback as the good lord intended, no beta-mistakes are my fault for writing at 4am and for spending the afternoon fighting god to get this website to accept me thanks to: @syd-djarin, @auteurdelabre, and @lovely-vamp-princess for support, eyes, and ideas, etc.
Tumblr media
Joel wakes you up while it’s still dark, pulling your shirt over your head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Sleep,” he mutters in a gravelly whisper.
The ache in your body is a stark reminder of everything Joel did to you. Every movement as you roll over sends a sharp jolt through your muscles, and the hollow soreness deep inside you leaves you raw.
For a moment, you lie still, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment—the way he touched you, the way he looked at you. You can still feel him, the shape he carved out inside of you.
He said nothing. He didn’t gloat, didn’t tease, didn’t even try to explain. The silence felt heavier than any of his words ever could.
You can hear him outside, feeding the horses. You give in, curling up under the blanket for another hour until you figure you might miss your chance for fresh coffee from the visitor tent.
You pull on clothes, feeling hungover with anxiety twisting in your gut. Your head spins and your chest feels tight, but you march toward the picnic tables and get yourself coffee and breakfast.
You aren’t sure what the fuck you’re supposed to do now. You sit at a table, a cup of coffee cradled in your hands, your head pounding as though you’d downed a bottle of whiskey the night before. The anxiety sits heavy in your chest, each sip of coffee doing little to loosen its grip.
You thought you understood what last night was—anger, frustration, both of you taking it out on each other. But the way Joel touched you, the way he kissed you, the way he stayed silent afterward… none of it fits the narrative you’ve been telling yourself.
You glance across the grounds, your eyes catching on Joel’s familiar silhouette near the fence. He’s leaning against the rail, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, but the moment his gaze lands on you, something shifts.
Your breath catches, the air between you thick and suffocating even from across the distance. Joel tips his head slightly, a subtle acknowledgment, but it only tightens the knot in your chest.
You tear your eyes away, focusing on the coffee in your hands, but the weight of his gaze lingers, pressing into you like a brand.
You keep your distance, avoiding Joel as you move through the motions of the morning ignoring the questions and confusion gnawing at you.
The sun climbs higher, the dry heat pressing down like a heavy blanket, but the rodeo grounds are alive with movement. Dust clings to the back of your throat, blending with the faint, bitter taste of coffee as you linger near the edge of the action, pretending to watch.
You’re halfway to convincing yourself Joel’s not even here when you hear Tommy’s voice. He’s leaning on the fence, one boot propped on the bottom rail, his arm resting loosely on the top. A beautiful woman stands beside him, gorgeous with bold makeup and tight jeans, her dark hair catching the light. She laughs at something Tommy says, swatting at his chest, and he grins down at her like she’s the only person in the world.
You almost keep walking, but Tommy glances up and catches your eye, his grin widening as he waves you over. He calls your name in an easy, smooth tone.
“Morning,” you say stiffly, stopping a few paces away.
The woman glances between you and Tommy, murmuring something to him before she wanders off toward the trailers. Tommy doesn’t miss a beat, tipping his hat to you with that same infuriating grin.
“You sleep alright?”
“What?” you gape at him before rushing to fix your face.
“Joel’s snoring didn’t keep you up all night?”
“Oh.” You shake your head. “No, slept fine. Thanks.”
He gives you another smile, and you move to lean on the fence watching the arena with him. He cocks his head, his eyes still on you.
“You worried about runnin’ Blue?” His voice is warm and light. His dark eyes sparkle with his natural charm, but it’s a genuine question.
You peel the edge of the paper coffee cup, looking past Tommy toward the warmup pen. “Yeah, I guess.” You give him a half smile. “We aren’t gunning for the NFR or anything, though.”
“Somethin’ else weighing on you, darlin’?”
You shake your head. Not willing to reveal anything else. “Heard you were up late partying with the roughstock boys and their fan club,” you accuse in a joking tone, attempting to redirect the conversation. “You aren’t worried about your own round?”
He laughs deeply at that. “Nah, that’s what a heeler’s for,” he says. “I just gotta be in the box on time. Joel’s the one that keeps us winnin’.”
“He’s not a partier?” You didn’t mean to dig, but the question slipped out anyway.
Tommy turns his head towards you, but you keep staring out at the arena, watching the crew setting up the barrels for the first division.
He studies you for a long moment, his grin softening into something closer to curiosity. “Joel’s not like me. Not really.” Your brow furrows. The words twist in your chest, setting your thoughts spinning. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy chuckles again, but there’s something unreadable in his eyes. “Let’s just say, Joel’s always had his head screwed on tighter than mine. Even when he didn’t.” You stare at him, trying to unravel the meaning behind his words, but Tommy just grins. “Joel’s a loyal kinda guy, y’know? Don’t mean he’s blind, though.” He gives you a wink and you feel heat flooding your face. “Just means he wrestles with it longer than the rest of us would.” You scowl at him for that. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Did Joel tell him? Does he know what happened? He shrugs. “Just means you’re a hell of a distraction,” Tommy says, tipping his hat. You laugh it off, but his words linger, your mind racing with questions you’re not ready to ask. You whip your head away again as if staring at the tractor raking the arena can save you from the conversation. But Tommy notices.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tease or prod, but you can feel the weight of his gaze as you swallow hard, your thoughts spiraling. Before you can respond, someone calls his name from across the grounds. Tommy tips his hat one last time. “Good luck out there, neighbor,” he says, his voice light but laced with something heavier. “Don’t let that head of yours get in the way.”
And then he’s gone, leaving you standing alone, your thoughts spinning, your chest burning. You push off the fence and find yourself a spot on the bleachers. They’re dusty and worn. The boards creak as you settle into a spot near the edge. You watch the first few runs.
The riders move with precision, their horses cut through the dirt with sharp, clean turns. The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, calling names and times, but it fades into the background as you watch.
Everywhere you look, there’s something that reminds you of Joel.
The set of someone’s shoulders as they lean against the fence, the low timbre of a voice nearby, a black felt hat in the corner of your eye. You try to banish the worry and the panic creeping in.
You remember the way he watched you train with Blue. The way he offered advice that sounded more like a challenge. The way his voice cut through the air like he knew more than you. The way he looked at you last night. The raw unguarded expression you’ve never seen before.
You hate the way he makes you feel small and uncertain. You hate the way you can’t stop thinking about him.
You can’t stop remembering the way his hands felt on your skin or his tongue. The heat in his voice and the way he saw through every lie you told.
The sound of someone hitting the dirt makes you snap your head up just as the crowd around you gasps.
In the arena, a horse stands, saddle hanging nearly sideways off of it. A rider scrambles to their feet, brushing dirt from their jeans with a wave. They lead their horse out of the arena and you can hear folks around you murmuring that their latigo broke and their saddle slipped as they turned for home. The horse and the rider are both fine, but your nerves flare.
You know the risks of the sport. But it makes you head back to the trailer early to inspect all of your tack closely for anything faulty. From across the grounds, Joel watches you. He stands near the holding pen, arms crossed over his chest. You haven’t seen him yet. Not really. Not in the way he sees you.
He can feel the tension in your shoulders as you walk, the way you crush the paper coffee cup in your hand.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t call out to you.
He doesn’t trust himself to. He shouldn’t have touched you last night. Shouldn’t have let his jealousy boil over. Shouldn’t have taken it that far. But now, standing here, all he could think about was the way you felt underneath him. The way you said his name like he was the only thing holding you together. And the way he needs to hear it again.
By the time your division gets called to warm up, you’ve eased your worries about your tack but you’re still swimming in Joel thoughts until you swing your leg over the saddle and settle on Blue’s back.
Then the rest of the world disappears. Your ride starts off smooth, but Blue’s sensitivity is a curse and a blessing. You figure he must be picking up on some anxiety as he gets a little hot, tossing his head and pulling on the reins when you try to bring him down to a jog.
You work out most of the kinks, circling and working on transitions until he feels supple and responsive to your seat and legs. Your nerves and the energy of the other horses still have his ears swiveling and his head perked up as you wait for the rider ahead of you to be called.
You can see most of their run, it’s smooth and they put up a good time. You squeeze your calves asking Blue to head toward the alleyway, but he’s springloaded.
You hold him back as he crow hops sideways for a beat before you’re backing him up. You try making a slow circle before heading in but he’s still jigging with short, bouncy steps like he’s ready to explode.
You’re tense, holding him back and trying to stay calm, making one more circle when he starts hopping again. You can feel eyes on you from the people standing near the gate. Before you can make another circle Joel is striding towards you with swift long steps.
He grabs Blue by the bridle, speaking directly to him in a calming, low voice. You glare at him reactively, but the words die before you can formulate them.
Blue’s jittering slows and Joel leads you up the alley toward the arena. His steps are sure and confident as he guides you. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to snap at him and tell him you don’t need his help. The truth is you do.
“Go get ‘em,” he says quietly, turning to you.
You gather your reins, giving him a tight nod to signal you’re ready. He lets go and steps back. Your heart pounds as you encourage Blue to push off into a lope.
The moment you cross the starting line, everything else fades.
The noise. The nerves. Even Joel. It all melts away. Just you and Blue and the rhythm of his hooves pounding against the soft dirt.
The first barrel comes fast. You guide him into a tight turn, pushing him to pick it up toward the next. His lead change is smooth as you shift your weight, leaning into the next tight turn. You’ve got your body facing the final barrel before Blue pushes off with his powerful hind legs.
You thunder toward the last barrel. His strides are strong and controlled. You’ve just gotta make this last turn without taking it too wide or knocking the barrel over.
Blue doesn’t forget his training, bending around your leg, picking up his shoulder, and you’ve got one stride left in the turn before you’re free to haul ass home.
You’ve got this.
You’ve got this.
You don’t got this.
The footing is deeper than the arena you run at on Thursday nights. Blue’s hooves slide in the loose dirt. His balance faltering. Time slows and you feel his weight tipping. There’s nothing to do but brace for the impact. His body hits the dirt in a controlled, almost graceful fall.
You hit the ground with a dull thud, the breath knocked out of you as you scramble back giving Blue room to pop back up. He shakes off the dirt, your stirrups slapping at his side and the reins nearly coming over his ears. His eyes are wide, but he stands waiting for your direction.
You catch your breath, chest still heaving from the shock. You dust the dirt off your jeans and wave off the grounds person jogging toward you. “I’m fine,” you call. “We’re fine.” Your voice is steady, but your chest feels like it’s caving in.
You pull his reins over his head and walk toward the end of the arena, keeping your head up and patting Blue on the neck. The crowd claps expressing support and relief that you’re both walking.
Hot, angry tears blur your vision by the time you get to the alley.
You don’t see Joel, staring at the ground as you walk, but you hear him hustling toward you calling your name. His boots crunch against the dirt as he matches your pace.
“You okay?” he asks, low and concerned.”
“Fine,” you snap, not looking at him as you speed up, pulling Blue along faster.
“It was a good-looking run you had going,” Joel says, his tone soft. “You two looked great, making good time. You can’t help the shitty footing—”
“I don’t need your pity,” you cut him off, sharp but trembling. “Not now.”
You don’t see the way his face tightens. The anger is spilling out, uncontrollable, and you don’t care if it cuts.
“I’d rather the ‘I told you so,’” you spit, hot and bitter. “Just say it. Whatever it is. You think I’m too young to know what I’m doing? Too soft? You think I’m a failure? Couldn’t handle the city, the job, the—”
“Hey, easy.” He tries to interrupt you gently, like a spooked horse. “Nothing like that.”
“You think I’m dumb, too?” You keep jabbing him with questions as you get closer to the trailer, not caring if anyone else hears. “Just another woman that fell into your bed at another rodeo.”
“Enough,” Joel says steady and low, but you don’t hear him.
“Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors,” you snap, your voice cracking. “Didn’t think they were true, to be honest. Didn’t seem like you. Guess I don’t really know you though, do I?”
Joel’s jaw tightens, his dark eyes flashing with hurt, but you’re too far gone to notice.
“You know, maybe I was stupid.” Your voice shakes as tie Blue at the trailer to untack. “But for a while, I thought I was finally starting to feel like myself out here. Like I was where I was supposed to be. And now—” Your words catch in your throat. Tears streaming down your face. You shake your head, stopping yourself from revealing anything else. You turn away from Joel and start running your hands along Blue’s legs to check for any swelling from the fall.
Joel doesn’t move for a long beat. He stands rigid, watching you wrestle with your emotions as you work. Finally, Joel exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. His voice is tight when he speaks. “I’ll leave you be.”
He walks away before you can respond, his footsteps heavy against the dirt. Your shoulders sag as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind the hollow ache of exhaustion. Your hands tremble as you finish untacking and brushing Blue, but you keep moving, your touch soft against his sweat-damp coat. “You did nothing wrong,” you murmur.
Fresh tears pool in your eyes. “You’re a good boy, Blue. You did exactly what we practiced.” Blue snorts softly, his ears flicking back toward you, and you lean into him, pressing your forehead against the warm curve of his neck. “I was the one who fucked up,” you admit, your words muffled against his dark coat. The truth spills out in quiet, broken pieces.
“I should’ve been watching the other riders closer this morning. Should’ve caught how deep the footing was at the far barrel.”
Your voice drops to a whisper. “Instead of thinking about how I could still feel his hands on me. Or wondering if he’s thinking about me.”
The confession hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken. Blue shifts beneath you, his weight leaning into your side like he knows you need the grounding.
You pull back, wiping at your face quickly before running your hands over Blue one more time, checking for any swelling or signs of injury. You move methodically, your touch steady despite the way your chest feels like it’s caving in.
When you’re satisfied he’s unhurt, you lead him into the pen and give him a scratch behind the ears. “You’re a good boy,” you whisper again, softly. “We’ll get it next time.”
Tumblr media
The afternoon stretched on at the rodeo, the sun climbing high and unrelenting.
You do your best to avoid the temptation to look for Joel, though he somehow has a way of being everywhere and nowhere all at once. Mostly it was false alarms and your eyes playing tricks on you. But once or twice you saw him watching other events. He never seemed to notice you, or if he did he gave no indication.
You hadn’t decided if you were avoiding him out of anger, shame, or if it was because the thought of being near him again after last night still made your chest ache in a way you didn’t want to examine. You’re still burying that last thought somewhere deep when you catch the flash of Joel’s red mare striding through the arena.
You can see Joel and Tommy putting their horses through some practice just past the main arena.
Your lips press together into a thin line as you watch them. Joel has a different aura about him when he’s in the saddle. He seems lighter somehow. Relaxed, but with a quiet command. He guides his horse in a way that looks effortless. His body moving in perfect harmony with hers. Tommy’s horse was a little snappier, making quick sharp turns. The pair of riders worked together naturally, movements fluid and precise as they get their practice in.
It was mesmerizing. Infuriatingly so.
You leaned back, trying to tear your gaze away, but your eyes betrayed you, drawn back to continue admiring him. The longer you watch the more it stirs up something unwelcome in your chest. You can’t keep letting him occupy so much space in your mind or your memories.
He’s proven time and again that he doesn’t respect you. He didn’t even argue when you laid it all out in your outburst after your run. He just walked away from you.
But there’s something in the way he carries himself. Something in the way he rides, the way he works with his horse, that hints at something different than what you know. Something that makes you curious.
You blink, realizing Joel’s head was turned toward the bleachers. For a second you think his eyes are on you and you quickly look away. When you glance back he’s already turned his attention back to something else.
Embarrassment wraps around your throat. This is why you had to avoid him. His presence alone seems to demand every ounce of your attention without even trying.
Before you can drown in your own emotional turmoil, an unfamiliar voice calls your name.
You see Cody waving a few rows down and give him a polite smile before agreeing to join him and his friends. Spending the rest of the evening with them feels like a safety buffer.
You don’t see Joel or Tommy when you get dinner. You watch some of the evening events before splitting from the group to check on Blue.
It’s nearly dark as you walk through the grounds. Your chest feels tighter with every step you take as you approach.
You’re hoping you don’t run into Joel—or Tommy and his knowing eyes. You let yourself into the pen, the noise from the announcer and the crowd are muffled by the distance.
There was a stillness in the dusk and the horses were calm.
Blue’s head swivels toward you as you approach. You pause to untie the braid in his tail before stepping between him and Joel’s horse. It’s not until that moment that you realize you aren’t alone. You freeze when your eyes land on Joel. He’s standing between his horse and yours, posture relaxed. The external light on the horse trailer casts shadows over his face making it hard to read his eyes.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” you say softly. “I didn’t know you were here.”
He responds with a small shrug and shake of his head. “Nothing to interrupt.”
You still feel frozen, like concrete had been poured around your feet. You’ve been carrying the weight of your earlier outburst in your shoulders, and the rest of your muscles are still stiff from hitting the dirt earlier. Maybe that’s why your defenses feel lower, or maybe something else has shifted, but the next words come out before you have a real plan.
“Look, about earlier,” you start with more confidence than you feel. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It wasn’t fair.”
He doesn’t respond immediately, gaze fixed on Blue who huffs a warm breath out after nudging Joel’s pocket in search of a treat. When he finally speaks, it’s quiet but firm.
“You had every right to be upset.”
You frown at that, a line pulling between your brows in confusion, and you shake your head. “No, I didn’t. I was angry, frustrated with myself, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”
He works his jaw like he’s mulling something over, before letting out a sigh. You move closer to give Blue a scratch under his jaw. The spot that always makes him wiggle his lip. You see Joel’s expression softening.
“I’ve been where you are,” he says finally. “Trying to rebuild somethin’ when it feels like the world’s stacked against you. Trying to remember who you are. What matters most.”
You tilt your head, curiosity pulling at you. His words sound familiar for a moment. That conversation you’d had after stacking hay. “When you bought the property from my dad?”
He nods. “Bought the place after my ex split. Had to sell the business. Start over. Build somethin’ from scratch while trying to figure out what the hell my life was supposed to look like.”
“It’s not as simple as it sounds,” you echo your past statement. He laughs a short, humorless sound.
“Sure ain’t. I know I made mistakes along the way.”
You stay quiet, letting the words hang in the air.
“It’s easy to get yourself a reputation in a small town,” he continues, tinged with regret. “I spent a while chasing somethin’ I couldn’t even name. Thought I could skip the pain with sex, drinking, and spending every weekend hauling to any rodeo I could afford the entrance fees for.”
His confession sinks over you, and you feel a pang of understanding.
“Took a while to figure it that it wasn’t working. Wasn’t who I was… or who I wanted to be.”
“I get that,” you say softly. You drop your gaze, not quite sure how to say it. “Not the same circumstances, but,” you take a slow breath, “I had a reputation back at my old job. It wasn’t true but it didn’t matter. Once people decide who you are, it’s like there’s nothing you can do to change it.
You feel his eyes on you. “That why you came out here?”
“Sort of.” You run your hand under Blue’s mane, feeling the warmth of his body grounding you.
“Hated the job. Spent a lot of time and money in school to get there, and I dreaded going to the office every day.” You swallow thickly, still not sure you can look Joel in the eye.
“Then my engagement fell apart. The more we tried to split up our lives the more I realized none of it was my life. None of it was me. I didn’t know myself anymore. I didn’t know what mattered.”
“Takes guts to start over,” Joel says with a current of finality about it. Like it’s a fact. “Most people wouldn’t have the nerve.”
His words warm something deep inside of you, but they also make your eyes well up. You blink away the tears before you look to Joel’s face. His eyes are steady on yours. You offer a small smile.
“Feels less like guts and more like desperation most of the time.”
Joel looks sincere, firm. “Desperation’s just another word for fightin’ for what you need.”
A heavy lump in your throat makes it difficult to respond, but you push yourself to be vulnerable. “I came out here to figure myself out and to do it on my own. I wanted to prove it to myself. But, then today, I got so caught up in my own head that I almost got us both hurt.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” he says quietly.
“I should’ve been paying better attention. Should’ve asked the other riders about the footing. Or—” your voice cracks and you pause to slow down your spiraling thoughts.
Joel moves closer, his presence solid. Anchoring. “You’re hard on yourself,” he says it soft, but firm. “You’ve got grit. You work your ass off. That’s what matters.”
You look up at him. Feeling exposed, like you’re holding the ugliest parts of you in your palms for him to see. “You think so?”
“I know so. I see you. The way you handle Blue, the balance you strike with your dad, the way you work twice as hard as most folks at a part-time job and still have time to learn the names of every old farmer in 50 miles that comes in once a month.”
You laugh at that, feeling something warm blooming in your chest. His eyes soften, and you’re drawn to the lines on his face.
“I’ve seen the way you push yourself even when you’re tired, the way you’re determined to bring out the best in yourself and others. Even those of us with a history.” He runs his hand along the scar tissue on Blue’s shoulder. The horse that broke a girl’s jaw.
“You’re tougher than most people I know. And contrary to what you think, I respect the hell outta you for it.”
His words hit harder than you expect, and you feel like your ribs have been pulled open, exposing your heart and soul in the moonlight.
You’ve spent so long chasing your own impossible standards.
Fighting for your dad’s stoic approval. Suffocating under the weight of other people’s judgment.
Hearing Joel’s praise feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders.
“Joel,” you start, but your voice falters. The way he’s looking at you feels intense. Almost too much. You can feel your heart beating against your chest.
He shifts, his hand brushing yours lightly, and the air between you feels thick. “Took me a long time to learn how to ask for help or accept it. Still ain’t perfect at it neither,” it comes out like a confession. “But there’s nothing weak about it. And there’s nothin’ more attractive than a woman who’s not afraid to try, fail, and try again.”
The slip in his voice–the raw, unguarded admiration–sends a flush of heat through you. Shit. The praise was already overwhelming, but the way he’s looking at you now—it’s too much. Or not enough.
His centering presence somehow has you rocked off balance.
Suddenly you’re closer, the space between you charged. Humming like one of the generators at the other campsites.
His hand brushes your cheek, gentle but deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. Everything that has been simmering between you feels like it’s about to boil over.
The rest of the rodeo disappears. Standing there in the moonlight, the world around you dissolves into quiet, only his gravity pulling you closer.
Joel’s hand lingers just long enough on your cheek to make heat crawl up your neck and coil in your belly. Before you can close the distance he pulls back, clearing his throat and stepping away. He moves slowly and deliberately, giving you space to retreat if you want to.
But you don’t.
Instead, you follow him out of the pen, your feet carrying you toward the trailer without thought.
The silence between you is loud, not uncomfortable but full of unspoken words and feelings, each step drawing you toward something you haven’t named yet. When he opens the door and gestures for you to step inside, the creak of the hinges feels impossibly loud.
Inside, the trailer is layered in soft shadows from the glow of a warm lamp. Joel closes the door behind you, and the quiet feels delicate. He stands a few paces away, his hat in hand, his eyes scanning your face as though searching for any sign of doubt.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and careful.
When you find your voice, it’s softer than you expected. “Yeah.”
The corners of his mouth lift just slightly, and the warmth in his eyes eases some of the nervous energy bouncing around in your chest. He hangs his hat on the hook near the door. The image of him reaching past you to hang it on the same hook last night flares in your mind and buzzes through your skin.
His movements are unhurried. He steps closer to you. He’s so large in the small space. Not intimidating, but stabilizing.
“Earlier,” he begins, “when I said I respect the hell outta you… I meant it.”
He takes your hand in his, his fingers warm and solid. Your senses are heightened from the emotionally raw conversation, from his touch, and the warm, spiced scent of him wrapping around you. “I see how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve sacrificed to be here. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with awe.
“And you’ve got no idea how much I—”
He cuts himself off, searching your face. His breath is warm, so close to your face. His lips look soft, so close to yours.
You close the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s nothing like the night before. It’s tender. Slow. Sprawling. Unspoken affection passes between you with the slip of your tongues and the soft sounds in your throat.
Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, every thought and worry dissolving into the sensation of your lips on his. Softer than he ever let himself imagine, a sweetness he didn’t think he deserved. The warmth of you seeps into him, steadying him even as it sends electricity down his spine.
His hand settles on your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. There’s no resistance. You’re pliable and willing. He moves with you naturally, like your mouths were always meant to find each other. He holds you like you’re a treasure, a prize, a wonder. Precious.
So soft, he thinks, his thumb grazing the curve of your waist. Every inch of you pressed against him feels like fire and solace all at once. His other hand roams over your back, the delicate shift of muscle beneath his palm grounding him in the reality that you’re here, with him.
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer, but there’s no space left between you. His palm glides down your spine, lighting you from within. When you break apart, softly breathing in each other’s air, his forehead rests against yours, eyes dark and soft as they hold your gaze.
“You have no idea how much I crave this. Crave you. In every way.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The reverence in his tone makes your cheeks flush with warmth, and you can’t help but smile.
“I might have some idea,” you reply, your voice just as quiet, but your smile grows wider.
Then he kisses you again, this time with more urgency, his hands moving to your hips and guiding you toward the bed. His touch is everywhere, his lips tracing a path from your mouth to your jaw, down the curve of your neck, each kiss making you feel lighter and warmer.
He continues to pour his confessions into your skin between each article of clothing he pulls off of you. "I thought I’d never have this. Never have you. But here you are, and you’re perfect." The words spill out of him unbidden, each one carrying a weight he’s carried for far too long. His hands tremble slightly as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down your clavicle, between the swell of your breasts, over the smooth fabric of your bra.
"I used to hate that I wanted you, that I thought about having you like this. But I don’t want to stop, sweetheart.” He unclasps your bra and slips the straps over your shoulders, replacing the cups with his palms, kneading your plush flesh. The warmth of your skin beneath his hands sends sparks through him, and he leans in, brushing his lips over the sensitive peaks.
“Don’t want you to stop,” you murmur back. He hums in response to you, rolling your nipples between his fingers before taking his time mouthing, sucking, licking at each of them until you moan and arch toward him.
“I spent too many nights trying not to think about you,” he confesses, his voice dipping lower. “And cursing myself for it.” He shifts down, between your legs to pull your jeans off. It feels like he’s just handed you a piece of himself you didn’t expect to see. The idea of him, alone and thinking about you, shifts something in your mind. It’s not just desire he carries for you. Is it something deeper?
He runs his hands along your bare legs, warm against your smooth skin. He already looks wrecked and he’s still fully clothed. You reach for him, but he shakes his head, dipping to line another path of kisses down your belly, to the sensitive skin inside the top of your thighs. His lips press against your skin, reverent, as if trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with need. His admiration and desire are intense, making you feel stripped bare in an emotional way. He’s not just saying it; he means it in a way that feels different from casual compliments.
Everything you use to protect yourself falls away as you let his words soak in. You couldn’t hide from him if you wanted to. He’s not just taking—he’s giving, pouring every ounce of admiration and desire he feels for you into each moment. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself take it in, let yourself believe it.
The heat of his touch and the need in his eyes have your core aching for attention. His breath ghosting over your swollen cunt makes you shudder with need.
When his lips press against the thin fabric still covering you, you arch into him. You feel him smile against you, breathing deeply before he slides his hands beneath your thighs, cupping your ass to tilt your hips before he descends again.
He kisses and sucks at your clit through your soaked panties without a care for the lewd sounds filling the small room. He doesn’t stop. It’s warm and wet, and the pressure makes you feel needy. You roll your hips seeking more contact, and he moans against you, the sound vibrating through you causing you to gasp and call out his name.
He looks up at you before pulling your underwear off and pausing to stare at your glistening cunt, before taking all of you in. His eyes dart to your face, all of your exposed skin, and back to your eyes.
“I never thought I’d actually get to touch you. To kiss you. Taste you like this.” His voice is hoarse, barely audible over the sound of your breath.
“Please, Joel.” He’s like a dream between your legs. His mouth, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. He uses everything with expert precision, bringing you closer and closer and erasing every worry, every stress.
You wonder if you should feel more vulnerable being naked beneath him while he’s still fully clothed. But instead, it feels empowering—like this moment belongs to you just as much as it does to him; like every touch and kiss is a promise steeped in devotion.
His hips press into the mattress involuntarily, seeking relief for his throbbing cock as he continues to worship you with his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair as he dips his tongue inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” Your voice is hoarse and ragged already.
He knows exactly what you need next. Filling you with his fingers while he wraps his lips over your clit. The wet noises of his fingers pumping into you are obscene-–but they're nothing compared to the moan you make when you see the way his hips are desperately rutting into the mattress between your legs.
The sight of him losing control, his own need so evident and unrestrained, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He’s giving so much of himself to you with every movement. It’s not just his mouth or his hands—it’s the way he wants you, completely and utterly, like he’s been holding it back for ages.
It tips you over the edge, chanting his name like a prayer as your release crashes through you. Your walls contract around his fingers and your muscles tense as he groans into your wet flesh before pulling back.
“That’s it,” he murmurs from between your legs, “you did good for me, baby. You’re so good for me.”
You’re boneless as the words melt into you. But you know you wanted to say something before he made your vision blur.
Your breath comes in slow, uneven waves as you blink at the ceiling, reality slowly settling back into your body. He’s watching you, his eyes dark and heavy with affection and need, and you realize the thought that had slipped away moments ago was this: you need to feel him, to see him.
“Joel,” you manage, your voice low and hoarse, your fingers brushing weakly at his forearm. He raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips as he leans closer.
“What is it, baby?”
You swallow hard, the words tangled in your throat as you try to gather your strength. “Off,” you rasp, fingers tugging weakly at the fabric of his shirt.
He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leans down to kiss your temple. “Gimme a minute, sweetheart. Let me make sure you’re all right first.”
Your head shakes slightly, determination building even in your post-release haze. “Joel. Now.”
Something in your voice snaps the tension in him. His jaw tightens, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt in one smooth motion, tugging it over his head.
The sight of him leaves you breathless. Broad shoulders tapering to a firm waist, his skin golden and littered with scars and years of hard work. He looks wrecked, his chest rising and falling as though he’s been holding himself back for too long.
“Goddamn,” you whisper, as your mouth hangs open. Your gaze drops lower, taking in the soft lines of his abdomen, and the trail of dark hair leading to the waistband of his jeans.
And then, as he unbuttons them and pushes them down, his cock springs free, thick and flushed and so fucking perfect it sends a scalding wave of desire rolling through you.
Your expression fills Joel with pride. The hunger in your eyes makes his cock twitch, the intensity of your gaze threatening to knock him over right there.
You sit up slightly, your hand reaching for him, but he catches your wrist gently, shaking his head. “Not like that,” he murmurs, his voice rough as gravel. He eases you back onto the mattress, his hands warm and firm against your hips. “Not this time, baby.”
You whine softly, your need pulsing through every word. “Please, fuck, I need you.”
His pupils blow wide, his breathing uneven as he settles between your legs. “You need me?” he repeats, his tone darkening, the words laced with a feral edge that makes you dizzy.
“You’re gonna get me, baby. All of me. Gonna fill you so deep you’ll never forget it.”
The shift in his tone sends a fresh rush of slick between your thighs. His hand trails up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast as he watches you.
“Gonna make you mine. Gonna keep you so full of me you’ll feel it in you every time you move.”
The possessiveness in his voice makes your body burn, your hips rocking up toward him involuntarily. “Joel, please,” you beg, your voice raw and edged with frustration as he drags the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you.
“Fuck,” he pauses after barely pushing into you. His eyes slam shut for a moment before he inches deeper into you, slower than you thought possible. “You take me like it’s what you’re meant for.” His eyes stay locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face.
You gasp as he reaches the deepest part of you, his hips flush against yours, his cock filling you completely. “Look at you,” he coos. “Such a good girl for me.” The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve ending sparking to life as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust.
“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Feel how deep I am? That’s where I’m gonna stay, sweetheart. Right here, fillin’ you up.”
Your walls flutter around him, your body already begging for more. “Joel,” you whisper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Move. Please.”
He obliges, his hips pulling back before driving forward again, dragging out the intensity of every sensation. His forehead drops to yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispers praise between each movement. “You’re so good for me, baby. So damn good.”
Your body writhes beneath him, the pleasure building with each heavy stroke. “More,” you whisper. “Please, Joel. I need more.”
The last of his restraint dissolves as he grips your hips and begins to move harder, faster, his cock hitting so deep you swear you can feel it everywhere. The pace steals the breath from your lungs, threatening to consume you.
“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough and unrestrained. “Take it. All of me.”
Your cries fill the air, his name falling from your lips over and over. His hands hold you steady, keeping you exactly where he wants you as he claims you.
“Look at you,” he rasps, his gaze locked on the spot where your bodies meet, where his cock disappears every time he sinks into you. “So perfect, takin’ me so well. Made for this. Made for me.”
You watch, as he instructed, until you look back up to his face. He’s so vocal, so confident with every word—but his face is equal parts hungry and wrecked. Fucked out. Drunk on you.
Again it’s the deep satisfaction you get from his unrestrained desire that makes you come with a blinding intensity. You try to tell him how close you are before you’re violently sucked into the sensations.
Your walls clench around him, making him shudder and groan. You try to beg him to come too. To fill you up. You’re unsure if the words make it past your thoughts, but he’s pulled into it with you either way.
Moments later, a deep groan vibrates through his chest as he tenses and his hips jerk against you. It feels like bliss, the sensation of his cock pulsing within you, the heat of his release coating your walls as they flutter around him.
The room falls into a warm quiet, the only sounds are your ragged breaths and the faint sounds of people laughing and shouting at another campsite, reminding you the rest of the world still exists.
Joel’s weight presses into you, grounding you in the present. He doesn’t pull away, softening inside of you as you breathe through the aftershocks of your orgasms.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Just stay with me.”
He shifts you both just enough to hold tight against his chest, his lips brushing your temple as his hand smooths down your side. “So good,” he murmurs, “so perfect,” voice rough but soft in a way that makes your chest ache.
Tumblr media
The early morning sun stretches over the rodeo grounds, bathing everything in a wash of pink hues. You wake to the soft hum of voices outside the trailer and the thud of a bale of hay being dropped just outside the trailer.
Joel’s weight shifts beside you as he stirs, his arm tightening around your waist for a moment before he lets out a soft, sleepy grunt. The sound pulls a smile to your lips as you turn to face him. His eyes blink open slowly, still heavy with sleep, and he offers you a lazy smile that you mirror involuntarily.
“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and low.
“Morning,” you whisper back, your fingers brushing over his stubbled jaw.
There’s a content silence between you before a loud knock rattles the trailer door, making you both jump. Tommy’s voice rings out cheerfully, "Y’all better get movin’ if you don’t wanna miss breakfast."
Joel groans, dropping his head back against the pillow with a dramatic sigh. "That boy’s got the worst damn timing."
You stifle a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before sliding out of bed to get dressed. Joel watches you for a moment, his gaze warm and unguarded, before he stretches and follows suit.
Tumblr media
The three of you sit at a picnic table near the cook tent, balancing plates of eggs, bacon, and biscuits as the camp buzzes with early morning energy. Joel sits across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table. You catch him watching you over the rim of his coffee cup, his lips twitching into a barely concealed smile when your eyes meet.
Tommy, oblivious as ever, chatters on about their schedule and the competition, occasionally tossing in jokes that have you laughing despite yourself. Joel leans back in his seat, his body language is relaxed but his eyes are constantly flicking to you.
When Tommy excuses himself to check on their horses, Joel leans forward, his voice low and teasing. “You’re not real subtle, you know.”
You shoot him a mock glare, your cheeks warming. “Says the man who’s been staring at me all morning.”
“Can’t help it.” Joel shrugs.
Later, you find yourself perched on the edge of a fence near the arena, watching Joel and Tommy warm up their horses. Their movements are fluid and synchronized; you openly admire their skill.
Tommy tips his hat to you with a grin as they pass, and you wave back, your gaze inevitably drifting back to Joel. He glances your way, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small, private smile that makes your heart skip.
The arena is alive with energy as their division gets underway. You lean against the rail, your fingers gripping the cool metal as you watch Joel and Tommy back their horses into the box.
The chute gate flies open, the steer bolting into the arena with Joel and Tommy in swift pursuit. Joel’s rope swings in a perfect arc, catching the steer cleanly around the horns as Tommy moves in to secure the heels. The crowd cheers as they pull the steer to a stop, their time flashing on the scoreboard.
The announcer calls their time and updates the standings. Joel and Tommy have the best time in their division so far.
You can’t help but cheer, your voice lost in the noise of the crowd as Joel and Tommy ride back toward the holding pen, their smiles wide and triumphant. Joel catches your eye as he passes, tipping his hat to you with a grin that makes your stomach flutter.
When they dismount near the gate, you meet them with a smile. "You two make that look way too easy."
Tommy laughs. "He’s the header," he tilts his head toward Joel. “I can’t do shit if he misses.”
Joel shakes his head, deflecting the comment.
“It’s a team event,” you counter. “Both of you are good at what you do.”
“We should bring her with us more often,” Tommy jokes.
Joel gives you another warm look with unspoken words.
“Your head wouldn’t fit in your damn hat if you had someone talking you up after every run,” Joel mocks. As they both swing their legs over the back of their saddles. You turn to watch as they lead their horses back to the trailer. You want to follow and stay close to Joel for the rest of the day, but you stay put.
Trying not to let Tommy in on whatever’s happening between the two of you until you figure it out for yourself. Instead, you head back to the fence to watch the next pair of team ropers. You’d rather be near him, but staying put feels safer—for now.
Tumblr media
The afternoon sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the rodeo grounds. You sit beside Joel on the bleachers, the two of you a quiet bubble of calm amid the hum of spectators around you. The events continue below—tie-down ropers hopping into the dirt, saddle bronc riders gripping for dear life trying to stick it out for eight seconds, bareback riders up next.
Joel leans back, one arm draped across the bench behind you, his body close enough that the heat of him radiates against your side. He’s quiet, but his presence feels steady and grounding. Every so often, his knee brushes yours, the brief contact enough to send a subtle thrill through you.
“You doin’ all right?” Joel asks, his voice low and soft. His gaze lingers on you, dark eyes warm but searching.
“Yeah,” you say with a small smile. “This is nice. I didn’t think I’d enjoy just sitting and watching this much.”
“It’s better when you’ve got good company,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile.
Your cheeks warm, but you’re spared from responding by the announcer introducing the next rider. Joel shifts beside you, his attention briefly pulled to the arena. You let yourself steal a glance at him—the sharp line of his jaw and the quiet confidence in his posture. He catches you looking and tips his hat, the subtle smirk that follows sending warmth blooming in your chest.
As the next rider lines up, Joel pulls his hat off, setting it on your lap. You blink, startled, and look at him.
“Put it on,” he says simply, his tone casual, but there’s something in his eyes—a quiet intensity that makes your breath hitch.
You hesitate for only a moment before lifting the Stetson and settling it on your head. It’s big, a little too big, but it smells faintly of leather and him. Joel’s gaze lingers on you, his lips curving into a soft smile that feels like it’s meant just for you.
“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.
The weight of the gesture settles over you—the tradition, the meaning behind it. The thought that this wasn’t just a playful gesture but a quiet claim sends a flutter through your chest. You’re not sure what to say, so you lean into his side slightly, letting the moment and the warmth of him settle over you like a blanket.
Later, as the afternoon begins to mellow, Joel takes your hand and guides you to the cook tent for dinner. It feels almost natural to walk hand in hand, weaving through the crowd of people. The smell of barbecue wafts through the air, mingling with the sounds of quiet conversations and laughter from the other riders and their families.
Joel insists on getting your plate, waving you off with a playful, “Sit tight. I’ll take care of you.” You settle at a nearby table, watching as he weaves through the crowd with ease, stopping to exchange a word or two with acquaintances before returning with two heaping plates.
The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, sharing quiet conversation. Joel’s small acts of service don’t go unnoticed—handing you a napkin before you realize you need one, making sure your drink stays full, brushing crumbs off your sleeve with a casual intimacy that feels like it’s always been there.
For a moment, it’s easy to forget you’re at a rodeo. The noise and bustle fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a comfortable bubble of companionship. Joel’s low chuckle as you tell him a story about your first job, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the warmth in his voice when he says your name—it all feels so natural, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.
As the sun begins to dip lower, casting a golden glow across the grounds, Joel stands and offers you his hand. “Come on,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s find a good spot for the bull riders. We can cheer for your new friend.”
You expect to see something flare in his eyes bringing up Cody, reminding you of the way he looked at you the first night you came back to the trailer. But, you take his hand and he’s only projecting pride and confidence. It makes you stand taller, knowing he’s a secure man.
He leads you back toward the bleachers. The two of you settle in as the crowd starts to gather, the energy of the evening event buzzing around you. Joel drapes his arm casually along the back of the bench again, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it grounds you, making you feel like you’re exactly where you belong.
Tommy and the woman you’ve seen him spending most of the weekend with join you to watch a few rounds. You tense as they come toward the steps, shifting to create space between you and Joel, trying to seem casual. You feel Joel’s eyes on you, but he doesn’t say anything about your move.
Tommy shoots you a wink before they take the seats next to you. It makes you squirm, but you tell yourself he’s always just playful like that. Too charming for his own good.
They stay and chat long enough to finish their drinks before heading back to watch the rest of the event with her group of friends.
Joel stays seated beside you, his arm still draped casually along the back of the bench, his other hand resting on his thigh. There’s a comfortable silence between you, the kind that feels like its own kind of conversation.
Finally, Joel clears his throat, turning slightly to face you. There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with something earnest and determined.
“I know this might be the wrong time to bring this up,” he begins, commanding your attention just with the timbre of his voice pulling at your heart, “but I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding about where I’m at.”
You tip your head, curiosity piqued. “Where you’re at?”
He nods, his gaze holding yours. “Look, I know your dad’s a good man, and I don’t want to cross any lines. But I also don’t want to miss my chance with you.” He pauses, his hand brushing against yours where it rests on your lap. “I don’t want this to be our only day together, and I won’t have you sneakin’ out your bedroom window and hoppin’ the fence to see me. S’just not the kind of man I am.”
Your heart stutters as his words sink in. There’s no wavering in his voice, no attempt to downplay what he’s saying. He’s laying it out plainly, his honesty disarming in a way you didn’t expect.
“So what are you saying?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
He takes a deep breath, his hand shifting to fully cover yours. “I’m sayin’ I want something real with you. Not just sneakin’ moments or pretendin’ it don’t matter. I want to see where this goes.”
Your chest swells. You nod slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.” Relief washes over his face, and he leans close to you.
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Well, if you’re such a true-blue cowboy, you’re gonna have to be the one to tell my dad.”
Joel nods. “I’ll handle it.” His voice is quieter, but honest. His gaze seems to look a little far away.
You squeeze his hand. “We’ll handle it.” You give him an encouraging smile. “Don’t have to do everything by ourselves right?”
He gives you a warm look. “Right.” He dips toward you for a chaste kiss. It’s sweet and playful. “Just don’t make me wait too long to take you out proper,” he rumbles as he pulls his head back.
You laugh airily, leaning into his side as he pulls you closer. The warmth of his arm around you, the weight of his hat still on your head, and the quiet promise of what’s to come settle over you, the world around you fading into a comfortable hum of possibilities for you and your cowboy Joel.
Tumblr media
thank you for reading! pls let me know what you think <3
Tumblr media
dividers by @/saradika-graphics tags for babes in case they want some cowboy joel: @lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed
@bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld
Tumblr media
224 notes · View notes
chuuyasheaven · 1 year ago
Note
bsd men as tits ass or thighs pls :3?? (specifically meursault boys)
“Tits, Ass or Thighs— What do they prefer?”
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“—Everybody’s got certain preferences, don’t they? So, what are theirs?”
Tags: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Chuuya Nakahara, Sigma / afab! Reader, Nipple play?, ooc! Sigma, praising kink, degrading kink, overstimulation, pet names?, hdc format ig, thigh riding?, hickeys, mentioned lingerie?, spanking, mild brat taming, atp everyone may be ooc, face sitting, oral sex (afab! and m! recieving), titty job, messes of their milk, might contain grammar errors, this is a lot holy shit, etc.
Notes: Maybe u just meant Dazai, Fyodor and Chuuya but I added Nikolai and Sigma for funsies— hope this is okay tho!! And I never wrote for Sigma before so sorry if he’s so ooc. . Maybe he’s gonna be added to my list lol.
Tumblr media
Dazai Osamu ;
💙 Thighs 💙
💙 I just know that he loves your thighs!! In my opinion, DAZAI lives for seeing you in thigh highs, especially if you have thick thighs. What do you mean you don’t wanna crush him with them??? What else are they made for then— oh, right, hickeys. It’s obvious that he’ll leave some marks here and there for fun, but another thing he lives about them is face sitting. This is literally the best way to die?!!? But also he lives to grab your thighs when he eats you out!!!
💙 Scenario;
He’s been at it for too long, you don’t even remember how many times you came already. . “Dazai, p–please. . S–sensitive!”, you tried to beg, but Dazai was way into this— Once you sit on this mans face, he won’t let go until your too sensitive, Dazai also always leave hickeys while he’s at it. Chanting how he would love to die this way, being crushed by your massive thighs. “—Why should I? You’re still talking properly, I won’t stop until you’re only able to moan my name. Now be a good girl, alright, ‘donna?”
Fyodor Dostoevsky ;
💙 Thighs 💙
💙 In all honesty, this man is a mystery for me– but if I would have to chose, thighs. FYODOR is kinda religious and stuff, meaning he’s definitely gonna be kinda traditional. (i do not know wtf I’m talking abt.) Fyodor doesn’t know what it is, but something about you in white lingerie and white thigh highs sets him off completely. Looking all innocent but being the complete opposite? Yes, absolute approval from him. But being the busy man he is, he’ll let you sit on his lap while he caresses your thighs!! :3
💙 Scenario ;
Seriously, how desperate are you? Walking up to Fyodor in white lingerie and white thigh highs while he’s obviously working? He finds it quite amusing how you think he’ll stop immediately to fuck you, no he won’t, yet. Fyodor just commands you to sit on his lap, now you’re getting off on his own thighs. But you’re still wearing panties, though he doesn’t care, you wanted this, didn’t you? As you keep grinding against it, he slapped your pussy through the fabric multiple times before. The small whines and whimpers are cute, but won’t change his mind to take you right now. “—I don’t really know what you expected me to do. . Well, actually, i did. It’s quite adorable how you think just because you’re desperate I’ll feed into your desires. Anyway, you seem to be getting off pretty easily, slut.”
Nikolai Gogol ;
💙 Tits 💙
Come on, this is so NIKOLAI, seriously. He's so silly, he would literally call them his personal stressballs. (Do not even try to deny it, it's canon.) Nonetheless, he likes to cum on them, Nikolai will make a mess out of them every time whenever you're giving him head. Another thing their useful for, in his opinion, is tit fucking!! It's a nice feeling for him when his dick's inside of your tits. Not to forget, your nipples are pretty fun to play with, but there's one last thing about them. .
💙 Scenario ;
There are many reasons why Nikolai adores you riding him! He loves how he barely has to do anything, hearing the adorable sounds leaving your mouth while you get off on his cock and most importantly, the way your tits bounce with you. All he's doing is laying back and enjoying the view of your tits almost bouncing out of your bra, he would love if they were to actually jump out. “—Hm, would you look at that! Your tits are seconds away to spill out of your bra, dove. I wouldn't mind if they did, maybe you just need to ride my dick faster. . Just like the needy whore you are.”
Sigma ;
💙 Tits 💙
I’m not really sure if it’s accurate, but running an casino ain’t easy. So what’s better than having you and your comfort. .—able tits? SIGMA would never admit it, but he loves them, dearly at that. If he ever needs an break, his head would probably rest on them. On the spicy side, he loves a good tit job. You mentioned this once and Sigma wasn’t against it, sure he was blushing over your suggestion but after he tried it, he loved it!!!
💙 Scenario ;
It felt good, really, Sigma loved your suggestion! He never thought of something like this, he never thought about recieving a tit job, but it felt heavenly. Just the way your tits were rubbing against his cock so good, it felt unreal. . The most beautiful whimpers left his lips, with his flushed expression on his face too, you assumed Sigma was enjoying himself, very. Soon he reached his climax, letting his cum leak on your tits. “—F–fuck. . You did s–so good, darling. Now, lay back and let me return the favor, yeah?”
Chuuya Nakahara ;
💙 Ass 💙
Ah, yes. CHUUYA is, in my opinion, an ass man. I saw a few people say that, and I agree. Like, he’s literally proud of that. He would slap your ass unexpected, respectfully though. He wouldn’t care if you’re carrying a bakery or not, he still slapping it!! Chuuya loves to spend money on matching bras and panties for you, but on your in general. Sometimes it gets to your head or something and you start to act out, which our ginger won’t let slide.
💙 Scenario ;
Lately, you’ve gotten on Chuuya’s nerves. Yeah, he loves to spend money on you and you, but he won’t stand you being bratty. As to right now, he’s ‘punishing’ you for it. The reference for ‘punishing’ is quite just fucking you until it’s stuck in your pretty little brain not to act out again. This time though, Chuuya added something to your punishment. . “Ch–chuuya. . ‘m sorry, I–i didn’t mean to—”, you tried to apologize, only to be silenced by another spank. “—Really? Too bad, you’re gonna take this if you want me to fuck you, baby. Just keep on taking f’me and I’ll fuck you soon enough, m‘kay?”
Tumblr media
OH EM GEE YOU GUYS IT TOOK ME THREE DAYS TO FINISH
2K notes · View notes
literaryvein-reblogs · 4 months ago
Text
Writing Notes: Plot Holes & Other Structural Issues
Tumblr media
Create chapter maps to find the main issues within your manuscript.
This method is faster than reading through your entire manuscript without knowing what you’re looking for.
Examine your chapter maps for the following…
Plot Issues
Would these events really happen?
Does the inciting incident happen early enough to grab the reader?
Are there errors in the chronology of events?
Are you able to trace the plot arcs throughout the whole manuscript? For example, is there a storyline that just drops off mid-way through?
Can you follow all your subplots to the end?
Are the events well-linked? Are there any holes in the plot that need to be filled?
How is the manuscript structured? Chapters, parts, various different sections? Is it working in this format?
Can something be done to strengthen how it’s presented to the reader?
Is there enough conflict?
Have you made the stakes high enough?
Why are these events happening?
Have you adequately described what set them in motion?
Does each individual event progress the story?
Is the plot complicated enough to sustain the story until the last page?
Is the plot too complex?
Character Issues
Whose story is this? Who is telling it? Is it engaging enough?
Do you believe the characters’ motivations? Are these clear enough?
Are the support/minor characters sufficiently developed? Is there a character you’d like to see become more prominent? Is there room for a new subplot or point of view? How would this affect the current structure of your novel?
Is the development of your characters limited by the point of view you have chosen for your novel? For example, if you’ve used a child’s point of view but need to explain something complicated, how can you resolve this?
What are the reasons behind your protagonist’s decisions? Do these link back to their original motivations?
Do the characters talk in a believable way? Does this reflect their background?
Is the reader given enough reason early on to care about your characters and what happens to them later?
Do your characters change and develop in conjunction with their experiences?
Does the reader see your protagonist at their best and their worst?
Have you made your characters as in-depth as possible? Where could you add in more backstory?
Do the backstories of your characters affect the plot? How? Make sure this is worked in throughout the novel.
Do the relationships in the narrative progress realistically?
What else can you do to make things difficult for your protagonist?
Does the reader experience a range of authentic emotions due to the characters and their interactions?
Would the character really react in this way to an event?
Is each character the appropriate choice for the role they play in the narrative?
Do you have both likeable and unlikable characters?
Is your protagonist active enough?
Are the traits of your characters distinctive and consistent throughout the novel?
Are the descriptions of the characters consistent throughout? For example, you don’t want a character’s hair to be red in Chapter 1, but blonde in Chapter 11 without any reason.
Setting Issues
Is there a strong sense of place? Are there elements of history and culture? How can these factors be developed further?
Does the setting suit the events that are occurring?
Does the setting create a sense of intrigue? Enough that the reader wants to spend time here?
Are the settings described using multiple senses?
Do you favour one sense in particular? Make sure you even this out.
Are the settings logical in terms of their relation to one another?
Are the details of the setting such as climate and conditions realistic? Does more research need to be done?
Does the setting require fact-checking?
Would a different setting be more effective?
Are the settings consistent throughout the novel? Such as the number of rooms in a house, or the position of a window?
Pacing Issues
Consistency of pacing: do the subplots, climaxes, and tension work in the current order?
Is the speed at which events unfold suitable to your genre and target reader?
Are the major events in the novel given the weight they need and deserve?
Is there enough description in the manuscript that the reader feels grounded within your world?
Is there so much description that the story lags?
What are the turning points of the narrative?
How can the tension be built further in these sections?
Examine the beginning and end of the manuscript by themselves: are they gripping enough? Do they convey enough information without giving everything away? Are they effective in terms of the author’s intentions?
Are there too many action scenes in a row?
Are there passages bogged down by too much detail?
Other Issues
Is the story accessible to the reader? Can the reader relate?
Does each chapter start and end with a hook?
Are the tone, content and language appropriate for the target reader?
Is the point of view maintained throughout the various scenes? Is it consistent?
Is there one element of the story that overwhelms the rest? Try to even things out.
Are character thoughts, actions, and dialogue balanced out with setting and description?
Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References More: On Editing
317 notes · View notes
vanteguccir · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
── ୨୧ ! 𝗦𝗔𝗨𝗗𝗔𝗗𝗘
          𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader
SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt have a long-distance relationship. After months of not seeing each other, Y/N decides to surprise Matt in LA.
WARNING: None.
REQUESTED?: Yes, from @lizziesx
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
   ༻✦༺  ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
Y/N sighed in relief as she left her last class of the day, closing her eyes momentarily and thanking that classes always ended early on Friday, before walking again, heading towards the Starbucks on the college campus.
A smile spread across her face when she saw her group of friends already waiting for her at their table, Julia already holding her usual, Caramel Machiatto.
"Oi meninas! (Hi girls!)" Y/N spoke with a smile in her voice, pulling out the reserved chair for herself, hanging her bag on the back of it, and sitting on the seat.
"Oi gatinha, como foi Direito Constitucional? (Hi kitty, how was Constitutional Law?)" Gabriela, who sat on her left, asked as Julia passed the drink to Y/N, who thanked her with a wink before taking a sip.
"Foi um porre, o professor adora pegar no meu pé, mas pelo menos eu tirei nota máxima no trabalho. (It was horrible. The teacher loves picking on me, but at least I got a perfect grade on my work.)" Y/N rolled her eyes, snorting at the mention of her teacher.
"Eu sei exatamente o que vai levantar o seu astral. (I know exactly what will lift your spirits.)" Anna, the third and last girl in the group, spoke as she raised her right hand, receiving everyones attention. "Achei um barzinho incrível na Vila Madalena, álcool é a solução pros nossos problemas. (I found an amazing bar in Vila Madalena, alcohol is the solution to our problems.)" She finished, a smile on her face, she was their typical Happy Hour organizer.
Julia and Gabriela smiled equally big, nodding their heads. By Brazilian tradition, Happy Hour always took place on Friday, so they were already looking forward to the idea through all day.
"Bora, amiga? (You coming, bestie?)" Anna turned to Y/N, waiting for confirmation after not seeing her react like she usually did.
"Não vou conseguir, meninas. Vou pra LA hoje. (I can't make it, girls. I'm going to LA today.)" She replied, unable to contain a smile when she mentioned the city.
"Hmm, vai visitar o boy? (Hmm, are you going to visit your boy?)" Julia said with a smile, stirring her drink with the straw.
"Sim, fazem meses que não nos vemos e não aguento mais só falar com ele por Facetime. Comprei passagem para ir hoje, e volto na segunda-feira, infelizmente. Se eu faltar mais uma aula, eu me fodo. (Yes, we haven't seen each other for months, and I can't stand just talking to him on Facetime. I bought a ticket to go today, and I'll be back on Monday, unfortunately. If I miss one more class, I'll get fucked.)" Y/N explained, taking a sip of her drink.
Y/N and Matt met on one of the girl's trips to Los Angeles years ago when she was still in her gap year, she and her parents had a house in the city and always went there on every vacation.
Their first meeting was an unusual one, but it caused the two to exchange numbers, keep contact, and, consequently, fall in love.
Because Y/N is Brazilian, lives with her mother in São Paulo and studies law at Mackenzie, she needed to travel back and forth from Brazil to be able to see her boyfriend in LA, since she wanted to finish her studies in her country.
The two agreed to continue their relationship in a long distance, and surprisingly, they handled that format very well. Their love for each other only intensified every day, and they felt like they fell in love all over again every time they saw each other in person, always reminding themselves that distance gave them a reason to love harder.
"Você vai de carro até o aeroporto? Ou sua mãe vai te levar? (Are you going to drive to the airport? Or is your mom going to take you there?)" Gabriela turned to her, seeing her shake her head.
"Nenhum, eu vou de Uber. O vôo é às 12pm e minha mãe tem plantão no hospital hoje, e eu não quero deixar meu carro no estacionamento do aeroporto. (None, I'm taking an Uber. The flight is at 12 pm, and my mom has a shift at the hospital today, and I don't want to leave my car in the airport parking lot.)"
"Eu te levo, amiga. (I'll take you, babes.)" Julia interrupted. "Depois eu me arrumo e vou direto pro tal bar que a Anna achou. (Then I'll get ready and go straight to that bar that Anna found.)"
     ༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
"Aproveita o seu boy e manda atualizações no grupo, eu quero saber tudo. (Enjoy your boyfriend and send updates to the group, I want to know everything.)" Julia spoke as she closed the trunk of her car, helping Y/N place her bags onto the airport cart.
"Eu prometo que vou atualizar vocês todos os dias. (I promise I'll update you every day.)" Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, smirking. "Obrigada pela carona, amiga. (Thanks for the ride, babes.)" She added, pulling Julia into a tight hug.
"Não precisa agradecer, só mandar o pix. (No need to thank me, just send the pix.)" Julia responded jokingly, laughing when Y/N slapped her arm.
"Idiota. (Jerk.)" Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile on her face, walking up the sidewalk and starting to push the cart with her bags.
"Também te amo! (love you too!)" Julia shouted as she got into her car.
Y/N quickly entered the airport, fishing her phone out of her jeans pocket and unlocking the screen, searching for her flight information. Her eyes read the boarding gate before putting her phone away again and pushing the cart to the check-in counter.
The process didn't take long, and soon, Y/N was able to sit in one of the chairs near her gate, taking out her phone again and unlocking it. Her thumb searched for the messaging app, opening it and seeing some chats with new texts.
The girl ignored all of them, as usual, and clicked on her mom's one, reading the latest texts.
"Honey, Matt sent me a text, he said that you haven't spoken to him all day and he is worried, thinking that you died."
"I said you had a test today at college and you couldn't use your phone during it."
"I think it's a good idea for you to send him a text before he's the one to come to Brazil."
Y/N pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her laughter. They were both so dramatic.
The girl sent her mom a brief text letting her know that she was already at the airport and assuring her that she would talk to Matt.
Her thumb clicked the back button, and her eyes quickly found Matt's chat, seeing 10 new messages and 3 missed calls. Y/N rolled her eyes, not holding back a smile. She understood why he was so worried, since the two of them talked via messages and calls practically all day long, every day, her not sending anything other than a "good morning, my love" was worrying.
But it wasn't her fault that, after class, she had to go home quickly and pack her bags, which she obviously left to pack at the last minute.
Y/N briefly looked at the time, knowing that Los Angeles' time zone was different from Brazil's, before clicking the call button, waiting for her boyfriend to answer.
"Baby?" Matt's voice sounded on the other end.
"Hi my love, I'm sorry for not talking to you today. I had a test this morning, and I couldn't use my phone during it." The girl spoke, persisting in the lie created by her mother, as her eyes traveled across the space in front of her, seeing people walking back and forth with suitcases in their hands.
"It's okay, I was just worried." The boy spoke in a low tone. The sound of objects moving in the background echoed through the line. "How was the test? I'm sure you did well."
"It was-" Y/N looked up at the flight board, seeing that hers was taking off in 20 minutes, meaning they would soon announce it, and the girl would have to board. "It was great, baby. Honey, I need to go now, Julia is here at home doing some college work. I'll call you later. I love you, bye." She spoke quickly, cursing under her breath after hanging up the call.
She knew Matt would be sad about the way she acted, but she hoped that she going to LA would be enough for him to forgive her.
     ༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
The sound of the plane pilot's voice coming through the speaker woke the girl from her sleep. Her eyes opened as her ears picked up the message that the landing would be made in a few minutes.
Y/N straightened up in her seat, her eyes going to the window on her side, seeing that the sky was almost completely dark. She took her jacket out of her purse, wanting to protect her bare arms from the cold of Los Angeles, since in Brazil was 40°C and here would be 9°C. She prepared her body for the thermal shock.
The shudder of the plane warned her that the landing was going to happen, her hands tightly gripping the arm rest as her eyes closed. She hated that feeling.
A few minutes later, passengers were allowed to leave. Y/N got up from her seat and grabbed her purse, following the line of people until she entered the airport. The girl unlocked her phone and saw that it was already 7 pm LA time. Her notification bar was full of messages from Matt, which made her heart sink. She could only imagine the anxiety her boyfriend was feeling.
Her eyes went over the last text he sent 10 minutes ago, warning her that he would film the car video with his brothers in 20 minutes. A smile spread across her face, her plan would work.
     ༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
"Matt, get rid of that ugly face right now." Nick spoke from the backseat, leaning on the side of Chris's seat as he looked at Matt's side profile.
"No can do. He's naturally ugly." Chris said, letting out a laugh followed by a yell when Nick slapped his forehead.
"Shut up, dumbass. we all look the same."
The oldest leaned away at lightning speed when he saw Chris quickly turn around with an angry expression, his right hand raised, ready to hit Nick back.
"Hey, stop!" Matt said, placing his left arm between the two of them.
"Then get rid of that angry face." Nick ordered again, leaning against the sides of the front seats, meeting Matt's eyes in the rearview mirror momentarily.
"He's like this because his little girlfriend has been ignoring him all day." Chris said as he looked at the camera, smiling when he saw Matt cross his arms and sigh deeply.
The two of them didn't know what was going on between Matt and Y/N, or if anything was going on at all, but Matt had been frowning since that morning, walking around the entire house while cleaning up all the messes he put his eyes on.
Nick had asked him what happened at one point in the day, but Matt just said that Y/N was acting weird before turning his back to his brother, going back to cleaning the video game equipment in the living room.
A knock on the window on the passenger side made the boys jump in fright; Nick let out a scream, pushing his own body onto the seat behind Chris's, while Chris bent down and covered his head with his hands, as if that would protect him from whatever that was. Matt turned abruptly towards the door on his side, moving his upper half away from it, almost lying on top of the car console.
It took a few seconds for Matt to register that whoever was knocking on his window was his girlfriend. His blue eyes widened, and his mouth opened in a perfect O, his heart racing a mile a minute as he felt his hands shake slightly.
"Are you really going to leave me standing out here?" Y/N's voice sounded muffled as she took some steps back and smiled, her right hand hidden behind her back.
"Y/N!" Nick shouted, jumping into his usual seat and pulling on his door handle repeatedly while begging Matt to unlock it.
"Y-Y/N?" Matt whispered, still in disbelief, ignoring his brother completely.
"If you don't open that door right now and give your girl a good kiss, I'm going to hit you." Chris spoke after straightening up in his seat, fixing the beanie on his head. "Go!" He spoke loudly, pushing Matt, who seemed to finally wake up from his trance.
The brunette's right hand flew to the button to unlock the doors, clicking there before pulling the handle, opening his door with a thud.
Matt had never gotten out of his car so fast, his feet running a few steps until he reached Y/N, pulling her into his arms in a tight hug, lifting her a few inches off the ground and spinning her in the air, a loud laugh escaping his mouth as he closed his eyes, praying in his mind that this wasn't just a dream, but that if it was, that he never had to wake up again.
"Baby, I... you..." Matt pulled away slightly, shaking his head as he tried to process that his girlfriend was actually there, right in front of him. His blue eyes ran over Y/N's face and body, recording her image in his mind, despite already having it drawn, painted, and stuck in his soul. "You are here." He whispered, his eyes burning with tears.
"I'm here, baby." Y/N spoke in the same tone. "Oh my love, don't cry." Her eyes filled with tears as well, and a laugh escaped her lips. God, she loved him so much.
"So that's why you were ignoring me." Matt sniffled. His right hand went up to his face, passing them over his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I had to stop answering you for a while so I could prepare this surprise." She spoke, feeling her heart racing and butterflies in her stomach from the look in Matt's eyes. He looked so amazed. "But I have a present for you, as an apology." Y/N said slowly before taking her hand away from her back, showing the prettiest bouquet of tulips.
"Oh my-" Matt's eyes were wide, and his mouth was open, his heart freezing for a few seconds before speeding up like never before. Tears escaped his eyes without him even feeling them, while his cheeks burned with adrenaline. "This is for me?" He asked, perplexed.
"Of course, meu amor (my love). I saw it on the way here, and I thought: "Why not buy beautiful flowers for the prettiest boy in the world?"" She said softly, her eyes scanning his reactions closely.
"Thank you so much. I've never received flowers before." He sniffed, taking the bouquet delicately, as if any sudden movement could destroy it.
"They are so beautiful together." Chris commented a little away from them, his eyes also filled with tears. What they said was real. When a triplet cries, the other two cries as well.
Nick, who was next to Chris, nodded, a giant smile decorating his face as his hands held the camera, the lens focused on the couple, capturing the cute moment.
"This is true love, Y/N came all the way from Brazil just to see this idiot, and she brought flowers!" Chris continued to Nick in a low tone, not wanting to disturb the couple.
"At least now he'll be able to film today's video properly. He was worse than Grumpy from Snow White." The oldest triplet muttered from behind the camera loud enough for Matt to hear, letting out a laugh at the dirty look he gave him.
"Yes, but he's my Grumpy." Y/N spoke up, receiving grunts of disgust from Chris and Nick and a laugh from Matt.
The brunette took his free hand to Y/N's cheeks, pulling her lightly for a kiss, the first of that night. A contented sigh escaped the girl's mouth, who instantly relaxed and brought her hands to Matt's covered waist, squeezing the hoodie over her fingers while feeling like fireworks exploded inside her.
"Ew guys, that's enough love for one night." Chris said, covering his and Nick's eyes playfully.
Y/N pulled away from Matt, unable to contain her laughter, finally turning to the other two brothers.
"I think you have a video to film, don't you?" She asked wryly, smirking as she saw Chris roll his eyes and raise his arms in surrender, as if he hadn't been crying just seconds ago.
Nick turned, walking back to the car to put the camera in its place, and Chris followed, getting into the back seat next to the one Nick sits.
"I'll demand my hug later, Y/N." Nick shouted from inside the driver seat, trying to balance himself on it as he fiddled with the camera's focus.
"What do you think about being our guest on today's video?" Matt hugged her from behind, securely holding the bouquet, while resting his head in the crook of Y/N's neck, breathing in the scent of his girlfriend's perfume that he missed so much.
The girl smiled, even though he couldn't see it, stroking his left hand that rested on her waist while nodding her head.
Their fans would go crazy.
Tumblr media
606 notes · View notes
stinkyturd · 22 days ago
Text
When It Rains
Pairing: Leo Kurosagi/Reader
Comments: This one's pretty long, 15.6k. There's probably spacing issues, but I'm too tired to go over it again. FUCK Tumblr's editing system. The format is easier to read on ao3(I cross posted), if you find the texting portions to be a headache. MC is an anonymous Vtuber that makes commentary videos. Leo's a viewer and drama ensues. :')
"Ugh... I hate it when it rains."
Leo’s sprawled out on the couch in the Vagastrom garage, playing on his phone. His feet are kicked up on the armrest, despite the fact that he still has his shoes on. You sat on the loveseat across from him, going over errors on recent case reports. This week you were assigned to help out Alan and Leo, but mostly Alan. To your knowledge, Leo hasn't been doing much of any work as of late. Either that, or he just didn't want you involved in anything that he had his nose in, which would also track.
"What? Upset you can't spy on Alan as easily?" You ask, not bothering to look up from your laptop. 
You already knew the answer. The rain was falling hard enough against the tin roof that you knew there was no way he was clearly eavesdropping on the Vagastrom captain from here.
Leo shrugs dismissively. "The rain isn't gonna last all day."
"Alan will be out later," You counter.
"I'll know when he gets back."
“It’ll probably be your bedtime by then," You remark as your fingers dance across the keyboard in front of you.
"I'll be up late. I gotta stream tonight anyway." Leo tilts his head to look at you. "Stay the night and help me.”
"Not happening," You shut him down without hesitation. Leo isn't well behaved enough for you to go out of your way to do favors for him unprompted. Not only that, you planned on recording a video today for your Youtube channel.
It was a side hustle you picked up a few months ago. You report general news and social media gossip anonymously using a voice modulator and a virtual avatar. The idea came to you after reading an article on the spike in popularity with Vtubers. You didn't particularly want the attention that came with a social media platform, so it seemed perfect. Making money at Darkwick proved to be difficult, but somehow you garnered enough consistent views to make a decent amount of income.
The content itself felt opportunistic, but it's popular. You did your best to make sure all details you reported on were accurate and not character assassination like some of the other creators would put out. 
"Aren't you supposed to be helping me?" Leo retorts in an accusatory tone.
"I'm supposed to be helping you with Darkwick duties," You correct him. "Last I checked, that doesn't include eavesdropping on your captain's private conversations."
Leo scoffs. "You don't know that."
You ignore his comment and catch him continuing to stare at you in your peripheral vision. He is likely banking on you caving. Unfortunately for him, it won't happen that easily.
Leo narrows his eyes at you. "Get me an energy drink from the fridge."
You let out a one-syllable, humorless, laugh. "Are your legs broken?" 
"I just took a hot bath. Don't feel like walking."
"Sounds like a ‘you’ problem."
"...Fine." Leo snaps his head forward, returning his attention back to his phone. 
Allowing silence to fall, you continue your work. For a brief few moments, the only noise in the room is your fingers hitting the keys on your laptop. 
"...Looks like I'll just have to tell that infantile werewolf the real reason you ditched him the other day," Leo mutters, just loud enough for you to hear. 
Your hands still and you finally glance up at him with a sharp look. "What?"
Leo types out a text. "Oh, nothing. I was just speaking out loud."
"Canceling aside, how do you even know that I planned to hang out with Lyca?"
The vice-captain shrugs. "Use that brain of yours for once."
You cease your typing and your fingers curl into the palm of your hand in agitation. "...Have you been snooping around the cathedral?"
"Tch, don't flatter yourself. I just happened to be passing by."
"And you just happened to activate your stigma near my location where no one else is? Get real, Kurosagi," You bite back.
Leo glosses over your comment and continues to antagonize you. "What will the poor pooch think when he finds out that you weren't actually pulled for a mission? You just blew him off to cozy up with King Kamurai." 
"It's not like that, asshole! I just overbooked my schedule." 
It was true. You had lost track of time that day filming one of your Youtube videos. So much so, that you forgot you had promised to help Jin that afternoon and didn't end up having time for both. You called Lyca to tell him that you had to do a mission to avoid over-explaining, or admitting to your negligence. You knew there was no point defending yourself, though. Leo would spin the story anyway to get what he wants.
Leo tosses a glance your way, his expression mocking. "Yeah? That why you were all dressed up when you left?" 
Why the hell was he paying that much attention?
"...That wasn't for him," You protest.
Yet another misconception. It was for a brand deal and you didn't have time to change out of it. But you weren't about to blow your cover to Leo of all people. 
The vice-captain rolls his eyes. "Puh-lease. Honestly, it's kind of pathetic that you think someone like Kamurai would actually go for you."
At this point, you're clenching your jaw so tightly that you think it might snap. "You're grasping at straws. For you to be lurking around my dorm long enough to witness all those details is more pathetic. Why are you so obsessed with tormenting me?"
"Implying my gathering intel is exclusive to you." Leo sighs and draws his attention back to his phone. "Spare me, Honor Roll. You're not special. Anyway, if you don't grab me an energy drink, I'll just text the hound my version of your dirty little secret."
"..." 
You wordlessly shut your laptop and toss it to the side. Then you get to your feet and head for the mini fridge across the room. 
"Put it over ice~" Leo demands in a sing-song voice.
You'd put it over ice, alright.
When you open up the fridge, you pull out a random energy drink from inside the door. The design on the can is gaudy and you don't recognize it-- likely something Leo had been gifted for free from one of his own brand deals. You peel back the aluminum lip at the top and a satisfying hiss rings in the air. There happens to be disposable cups on top of the fridge, right next to the ice maker. You grab one, fill it with ice, then pour the energy drink over the top. Once it's empty, you take some of your pent up aggression out on the can and crunch it up, before it gets tossed into a nearby recycling bin. 
You make your way back over to Leo. 
Leo clicks his tongue. "Took you long enough." The vice-captain holds out his grubby hand expectantly. "Give it here."
A wry smile pulls at your lips. "Yeah. Sure." 
Ignoring the potential consequences of your actions, you bring the lip of the cup to your mouth and spit into the drink before handing it to him. "Here you go, Princess."
Leo stares blankly at the cup in your hand, his expression unimpressed. He takes it from you and brings it to his mouth, drinking out of it anyway. 
…Well, can't say you expected that.
Leo flashes a derisive grin. "Try harder next time, NPC. Now piss off, will you? I'm about to record some reels and I don't need an eye sore in the background.”
For a moment you fantasize about beating the vice-captain into a bloody pulp. And why shouldn't you? He's a complete menace, after all. It’s not the first time he's blackmailed you and it wouldn't be the last.
You will get back at him. 
“Sure thing.” You maintain a pleasant enough expression as you walk over to your previous spot to retrieve your laptop. After that, you gladly heed Leo's request and make yourself scarce.
Later that night, you record a video for your channel. It's short enough in length that you don't spend long editing it. That leaves you just enough time to upload it, before it's time to start getting ready for bed. 
The video covered a week's worth of social media news that you had gathered, and also included a segment where you plugged a brand deal for a clothing company. They sent you several outfits for free that you tried on and reviewed. Of course, you made sure your face had been cut out for that portion of the video. 
By the time you're dressing down in your pajamas you receive a text notification from your phone that's lying on your mattress. Nothing out of the ordinary– you'd check it once you're done. 
And then another comes in. And another. Followed by two more. 
You sigh, narrowing your eyes at the device as you pull your pants up. There's only one person that spam texts to you in fragments like that.
Leo.
What could he possibly want this time?
You begrudgingly make your way over to your bed, pick up your phone, and flop down on your stomach. After unlocking the screen, you check your notification bar. 
Oh, it isn't Leo. 
Just messages from someone on Instagram that you don't immediately recognize. After staring at the screen name for a moment, you realize it's a variation of a name that you've seen in your Youtube comment section– firechicken22. You click on the message.
[Omg]
[U always come in hot with the tea]
[Was about to search for that recent drama w chillygoat cuz ive been busy]
[But u did the work for me 🩷]
You smile at that and type a message back.
[Glad I could help 💕.]
You thought that would be the end of it, but you see them typing again.
[I rly liked the clothes u wore today. Cant believe u got a brand deal w Kimyou, totally jelly. Been tryna get one w them for years.]
Oh? Is this person a content creator? Curiosity gets the better of you and you click on their profile. 
They only have a couple hundred followers, and they follow a couple of people– you being one of them. The few pictures they have up seem to be shitposts, not actual photos. And their profile picture is a bowl of spicy ramen. Another text notification pops up on your screen. 
[I got a deal w Mior but theyre inconsistent w sending products :P]
You click on the notification again to reply.
[Mior? That's a pretty big deal. You create content?]
[Mhm. This is my alt lol. I avoid dming on my main.]
[Oh? Do I follow you?]
[Nope. I'll let u know if u ever do 😉]
Seems like they don't plan on telling you.
[Haha, alright. Keep your secrets. 🤭]
[I'll drop hints if u keep talking to me. 😏 Kinda wanna get to know u. I like ur takes on stuff.]
You don't mind the idea of messaging this person when you have time. Your following is decent sized, but it's not like you receive a lot of messages from fans. Plus, you were a little curious as to who this could be.
[Sure. I've been a little busy, but I'll respond when I have time. ☺️ I'm glad you feel like you can relate to what I put out. I try to keep things unbiased.]
[Kinda impossible to avoid at some point lol. I think u are impartial enough tho. Every1 glazes chillygoat but shes fr two faced asf– I should know.]
[I haven't spoken with her personally, but I'll take your word for it.]
That Youtuber wouldn't give you the time of day if you wanted it. You were still a small fry.
[We collabed b4 n all she does is yap about this guy that doesnt even want her n only talks about herself. Couldnt get a word in, shes lucky I was in a good mood. Totally not surprised she got caught w her pants down lmao.]
If this person has collabed with chillygoat, they must be relatively big. You're a little surprised they're revealing such a harsh opinion right off the bat.
[That's too bad! I've known some people that can be self-centered like that too. Sucks that you had to deal with that.]
[Nah its fine lol. U cant expect to meet much nice ppl in this industry. Then theres u.]
[There's me?]
[Yup. Ur a little too nice for this platform. :P]
You blink, a little perplexed by the random observation.
[You've never even talked to me outside of comment sections. 🤔]
[Don't need to im good at scoping ppl out. Thts why im talking shit to u, I trust u wont tell on me. 😘]
[I dunno… That's a lot of pressure to put on me. Withholding profitable tea for the sake of being a trustworthy person? 🫣]
[Lol cap. U dont even report hearsay like that nice try 💕.]
[Okay, you caught me. x) Your secret is safe with me.]
[U should add me on Snapchat its still firechicken22. I'll respond on it faster cuz thats the only app I dont have another acc on rn.]
Adding randoms on Snapchat is… dubious at best. 
[Snapchat, huh? I have one, but I rarely use it. Are you a guy?]
[Lol yea. What u afraid im gonna send u dick pics? Im classier than that.]
[Hm… 🤔 Okay, I'll trust you. Adding you now.]
[Thx 🫰🏻. Anyway I'll ttyl. Got shit I gotta do. Night. 💤]
[Goodnight!]
You hook your phone up to its charger and bury yourself under the covers of your bed. Tomorrow you would do your morning classes and help at Vagastrom after. Then you'd inadvertently deal with your least favorite person on the planet– Leo.
Ugh.
“Oh, Alan! Your keys are falling out of your jacket.”
“Hm…?” The captain stops in front of your spot on the couch and looks down at his pocket. “...Oh.”
A few keys on his ring are spilling out of the fabric sleeve. It looks as if the bottom seam is hanging on by a few threads. You set your laptop to the side and stand to examine it.
“Looks like it needs a touch up,” You remark as you gently nudge the metal accessories back inside.
Alan nods. “Yeah. Must have snagged it on something when I was looking at the undercarriage of that truck.” The captain shakes his head. “I'll just switch it with my other one tomorrow.”
“I can fix it for you! I'm not the best at it, but I am capable of minor repairs,” You offer with a smile. 
Alan returns a smile of his own, appearing a little meek. “That… isn't necessary. Aren't you busy right now?”
“I'm caught up enough!” You insist. “I even have an emergency sewing kit on me because I had to fix a tear this morning in class. It's no sweat!”
Alan shoots you a skeptical look. After a few beats he caves and removes his jacket and hands it to you. “Thanks. I'll get you a coffee.”
“I won't say no to caffeine!” You reply genially. Taking the jacket from him, you plop back down on the sofa and get to work. Alan makes his way to the door leading out of the garage and into the main section of the Vagastrom building.
“Wow, so that's suddenly part of your inspector duties, huh?”
Your eyes snap up to see Leo's. He's lying on the couch across from you, just as he was yesterday.
“Yeah,” You answer with a dismissive shrug as you begin to thread a sewing needle from your kit. “Alan is actually kind and cooperative. Unlike you.”
“Sounds like bias to me. Don't tell me you're mooning over that himbo?”
You roll your eyes and begin to adjust the torn pocket of Alan's jacket to make your first stitch. “Always jumping to conclusions. Let's say I was. How is that your business?” 
You don't mean it. As much as you adore Alan, you don't know him well enough to have those kinds of feelings towards him. A flash of indiscernible emotion crosses Leo's face for a brief moment. It leaves as quick as it comes, and a mocking grin peels his features.
“Awwh. You wanna fuck him?” 
You frown, barely sparing him a glance before returning your attention back to your project. “Don't be so crass.”
“What other conclusion am I supposed to draw? You do so many favors for him that you don't need to be doing and it's laughable.”
“Why do you care?” You ask, keeping your tone level. 
“Care is a strong word. I'm just pointing out the obvious.”
“Why?” You press as you loop the needle through the pieces of fabric.
Leo's shit-eating grin turns tight-lipped the longer you grill him. “Because you bitch and whine about doing the simplest shit.”
“For you,” You correct coolly. “Try not being insufferable for a change. Besides, didn't you say Sho is your ‘slave’ before? Ask him to do it.”
Ever since the first mission you did with Vagastrom, Sho has been increasingly less patient with helping Leo. The vice-captain has noticed it too, judging by how his expression shifts to a noticeably irritated one after you make the comment. 
“Get your eyes checked. Does it look like he's here, NPC?” Leo bites back rigidly. 
You hum and suppress a smirk. “Wonder why that is? Maybe he's getting tired of your shit.”
Leo's eyes crinkle as he maintains his cheery facade. He turns his head forward and starts typing away at his phone. “Mmm, yeah. Maybe you're onto something. Guess I gotta get a new servant.”
“Guess you do.” You get the last word in.
The both of you sit in silence for the next few minutes. He texts away on his phone while you sew up Alan's jacket.
Right when you're finishing up the last few stitches, your phone pings, notifying you of a message. You ignore it for now to finish your task and it goes off a few more times after that. 
“You getting spam sent to your email? Shut that off, it's annoying,” Leo complains without looking up from his phone. 
You roll your eyes as you secure your last stitch and cut the thread. “It only pings for my texts, it will stop.”
For reasons unbeknownst to you, the vice-captain chortles. You ignore it.
“Should be good,” You murmur to yourself as you tug the pocket to test the durability. Deciding it's fine, you set Alan's jacket to the side and pick up your phone to check your messages. When you unlock your phone and pull down your notification bar, you see a few texts from Lyca. You click on one of them.
[(y/n) is it true?]
[that jerky guy thats mean to suba texted me..]
[he said you only hang out with me because darkwick makes you]
[and said that you think i smell weird]
You clench the phone in your hands with a dangerous amount of force as indignant fury builds in the pit of your stomach. 
First things first, you text Lyca back.
[Block him, please. I said nothing like that, he's just being a child. I'll come over later tonight to help you study. Please, please, do not listen to him. 🙏]
You stand up, drop your phone to the side, and march over towards Leo. The conniving sack of shit is grinning from ear to ear with his attention locked on the screen in his hand. He's still typing out messages to Lyca, judging by what you can see of the profile picture. Somehow the dumbass still doesn't notice you approaching. 
You reach over Leo's shoulder and easily yank his phone from his grip. The vice-captain flits his gaze upwards, the amusement on his expression only becoming more obvious. 
“Fucking asshole,” You growl. From a quick glance, you notice that he sent far more than what Lyca reported to you. Without hesitation, you erase the message Leo had started to type out and then delete Lyca’s contact information.
Leo moves to get to his feet and you instinctively take several steps back. “Aaawh, you mad?”
“You wanted my attention that badly, Kurosagi?” You taunt. If not for the influence of anger, your tone would ideally be more unbothered. You're only giving this pipsqueak what he wants, after all.
“Yeah, real bad.” Leo holds out his open palm. “You deleted it right? Give it back, NPC.”
You let out a taunting laugh. “Fat chance.”
Without missing a beat, you spin on your heel and bolt in the opposite direction, Leo's phone in hand.
“Hey…!” 
The garage is big enough that you can run around without getting cornered if you do it meticulously. You didn't have a plan other than you knew you wanted to get back at the scheming rat. Leo's feet stomping against the concrete could be heard at your tail as you speed around the perimeter of the garage. You knock over a few stools to trip him up and even mistakenly shoulder check another nameless Vagastrom student in your haste.
“Watch it!” 
“Sorry!” You yell back without turning around.
“Can't run for long, Honor Roll!” Leo grabs at the end of your skirt's uniform, but you somehow manage to slip away just in time. 
Unfortunately, he's right. As annoying as Leo is he's still got more stamina and agility, being a ghoul and all. You're now on your second lap around the room and the only reason he hasn't caught you is because of the stuff you keep knocking over in front of him. Regardless, you had to exact your revenge somehow– even if you get caught in the process. Making a split-second decision, you run for a nearby bathroom and fling open the door, before promptly slamming it shut behind you. 
And there it is. A urinal filled with someone's leftover, unflushed, piss. 
Committing to your act of tyranny, you fling Leo's phone into the dirty urinal. You watch as the device clatters against the back of the ceramic before fully submerging into the sewage water. 
The door opens behind you and Leo skirts to a complete halt when his eyes land on the urinal ahead.
“...”
The vice-captain lets go of the door, allowing it to hinge to a close on its own. You feel your stomach drop from the silence that follows. 
You intend to assess his expression, until the wind is suddenly knocked right out of you, and you're being shoved against a nearby wall.
Leo grabs your face roughly in one hand, while his other rests flat against the tile next to you. He's smiling, but it's completely devoid of warmth. His golden eyes bore into you so frigidly that it sends a chill down your spine.
“Now you've fucked up, (Y/N),” Leo says, his voice oozing contempt. “I didn't back up my recent data and I won't be the one to fish that out.”
You attempt to jerk your chin out of his grip, but he's surprisingly strong. Your hands move to the wrist that's holding onto you. “Let me go, piece of shit,” You manage through your pinched cheeks. “You deserve that and more.”
“How about you get it out for me, hm?” Leo narrows his eyes at you, his thumb dragging roughly over your bottom lip, exposing your teeth in the process. “I'll dunk you in headfirst and you'll catch it with your mouth, kay?” 
You glare daggers at him, showing no indication of folding. “I can literally knee your balls and end this in two seconds, don't try me.”
Leo opens his mouth to speak, but then the door flies open yet again. 
In comes Mido, a sight for sore eyes. 
Alan frowns when his eyes land on the two of you. He wastes no time grabbing the vice-captain by the shoulder and pulling him backwards. “What the hell are you doing, Kurosagi?”
Leo loosens his grip on your face as he's drawn away from you. He grimaces, his lips peeling back as he attempts to jostle Alan's hand from him. “Fuck off, Himbo. This isn't your business.”
“It is,” Alan corrects. His gaze softens when his eyes meet yours. “What's going on, (Y/N)?”
You move yourself off of the wall and hastily begin your explanation. “Leo messaged Lyca lying about all sorts of mean shit because I won't do his petty bidding. He's an asshole! Now Lyca’s upset, so I threw Leo's phone in the urinal.”
Alan nods calmly, seemingly unsurprised by the revelation. His eyes redirect to the urinal that held the phone. “Sounds like Kurosagi instigated, as I expected.”
Leo bares his teeth and jerks away from Alan. “...Fucking simp.” You watch as the vice-captain barrels past him, exiting the bathroom in a huff.
“S-Sorry for the trouble,” You apologize meekly. “I'll clean up what I threw around out there.”
Alan shakes his head. “Don't worry about it. You're supposed to be helping us and he's causing problems with other houses.”
“But still… You're always so understanding. Thanks, Alan.” Your lips curl into an appreciative smile. “I finished sewing your jacket, it's on the couch.”
“Thank you, (Y/N). I appreciate it.” Alan smiles softly back at you. He hands you a canned coffee that you didn't notice he had until now. “Why don't you leave early today, so you can focus on whatever mess Kurosagi created?”
Alan's so sweet. A stark contrast to Leo.
“Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks so much.” You bow politely and accept the coffee from him. “And thanks for this.”
The Vagastrom captain nods and opens the door, gesturing for you to leave first. 
As you exit the bathroom and head back towards the couch you notice that Leo is nowhere to be found. You wonder if he's going to pay someone to get his piss-soaked phone out of the urinal or just take the L.
Whatever, he probably has insurance on it anyway.
You don't get back to the cathedral until late in the evening. With all that had happened with Leo, you decided to spend your day with Lyca. Thankfully, your werewolf friend was understanding of the situation, because he knew enough about the Vagastrom vice-captain from Subaru. 
By the time you're showered and settling in your bed to catch up on social media news, you receive a Snapchat notification from firechicken22. You open it.
[U doin research for ur next vid?]
[Yeah, how'd you guess?]
[Research takes time n its late. :P Best time to do it. Assuming ur in a similar time zone to me?]
Your time zone is the same as Tokyo, even though you're technically separated from it– being in Darkwick and all. You decide to go with that.
[I'm in Tokyo.]
[Lol same kinda. I dont live far from there. I figured cuz ur dialect.]
[Small world. 😊]
[Gonna stream soon so help me pick my outfit. Which one?]
You receive two images. Both are of firechicken22 standing in a full body mirror, but the pictures are cut off from the shoulder up. One photo he's wearing a denim, bright yellow, jacket, with patches of random black lettering. The other is a black color block jacket with a white hoodie underneath. Both are kind of grungy looking and stylish. 
He's lean and has thin hands, you notice. 
[Hmm… Do you usually wear more dark colors or bright ones?]
[Both lol. But ig my bright is usually in accents not full pieces.]
[Then do the yellow jacket. Spice it up.]
[I'll take ur word for it. I still got an hour b4 I go live so lets play a game.]
A game…?
[Okay, Jigsaw. What kind of game? 🤔]
[Would u rather. U dont post much about urself so I think itd be fun lol.]
You don't exactly have anything to hide. If you were to get more questions about yourself that aren't indicative of your identity, you'd answer them. So far, firechicken22 is the first to ask you to do something like this. 
[Sure, why not? Any boundaries I should know about?]
[Nope what about u?]
[I don't think so. I'll just tell you if I don't want to answer it.]
[K u go first. :P]
The one who asks to play insists you go first, huh? 
You look up a template on Google and pick something random.
[Alright I found one to ask you. Would you rather be poor but fun or rich but boring?]
[Um def dont wanna be boring. I'll do poor but fun cuz I can just marry rich.]
[Opportunistic, I see.]
[A dog eats dog world lol. My turn.]
[Go ahead.]
[Would u rather hit pause or rewind on ur life?]
A deep one, huh? Well with the Kyklos curse…
[Pause.]
[Interesting lol. Any reason?]
[Does ‘Would You Rather’ require explanations? 😏]
[Guess not. :P Ur turn again.]
[Would you rather give up all the memories, or money you made this year?]
[Def memories. 💴]
Firechicken22 is opportunistic and values money. Not that you can really blame him. It all depends on circumstance anyway, and you don't know his.
[Fair enough.]
[Would u rather have more time or energy?]
[Energy, I'd say. Can't seem to have enough.]
[Lol thought u would say that.]
The two of you trade questions for the next hour. It becomes obvious that firechicken22 really is trying to get to know you. And it's too soon to tell if he's genuinely curious, or if he is trying to coax your identity out of you. As far as you're concerned, there isn't much to gain in doing that because your following isn't that big. 
So, maybe he's just a fan. Regardless, you don't intend on revealing anything too personal.
After the umpteenth question exchange, firechicken22 announces his plan to depart.
[Its been fun stranger but i gotta start my stream :P]
[Yeah, you're fun to talk to. Maybe you can send the link to your stream next time? 😌]
[Wanna c me that badly? I dont blame u~]
[I'm curious. But if you're streaming this late I'd be listening rather than watching. I do have morning classes, after all.]
[U go to university?]
Darkwick is kind of like a university, so you'll go with that. You certainly don't plan on revealing the name, though.
[Yeah. Do you?]
[Yup. Maybe I'll let u know who I am soon, or I'll let u guess if u dont recognize me.]
[Take your time, because I can't say when, or if I'll ever show my face to you.]
[The thought crossed ur mind? 😘]
[That's only natural if you bring it up, you know.]
[R u cute?]
[Hideous. 💩]
[Somehow I doubt that lol. Anyway gtg fr now. Nite~]
[Goodnight.]
Once you end your conversation with firechicken22, you realize it's already very late. Your research will have to wait until tomorrow, you decide. You tuck yourself in under the covers of your bed and plug your phone in its charger. 
Tomorrow brings another day at Vagastrom. Hopefully Leo leaves you alone.
“Here's the ingredient list. Mind helping me gather it, while I find my phone? Pretty sure I left it in my room.”
You are talking to Sho in the kitchen at Vagastrom. Leo sits in a stool at the other end of the kitchen island, eating a bowl of ramen that’s notably bright red. You can only assume it's the extra spicy Buldak noodles he always buys. The vice-captain hasn't said a word to you so far.
“Sure. This is for the curry bread?” You ask as you glance over the sheet of paper. 
Sho flashes you a dazzling smile. “Sure is. I'll be right back. In the meantime, I'm sure Leo can direct you if you have trouble finding something.”
“Riiight,” You say sarcastically, your eyes darting back over to Leo. He doesn't look up at the mention of his name. 
Sho snickers and pats your back twice before leaving you to it.
You grab the list and begin searching for the ingredients. First you grab the cold items on the list from the fridge, since that was the easy part. Milk, butter, and ground beef. Then the vegetables, spices, panko, and sugar. The only thing you're struggling to find is the yeast and flour. You search the pantry and even open and close a bunch of cupboards. When you're not successful after the second search, you audibly curse. 
“Looking for something, Honor Roll?”
Your attention snaps to Leo. His phone is resting on the counter and he's propping his head in his hand, eyeing you with newfound interest. The bowl of ramen is pushed to the side for now, with his chopsticks resting over the top of it.
“...Flour and yeast,” You answer reluctantly.
“Cupboard above the fridge,” Leo answers readily. 
You glance up at the fridge and let out a sigh. It's particularly large. Who the hell decided it was a good idea to put a common kitchen ingredient all the way up there? 
Leo must be drawing the same conclusion as you because he speaks up again. “That stool by the window is taller than the other ones. Could use that.”
You relocate your attention to said stool. It was out of place and looked like it belonged to a set of furniture that no longer exists in Vagastrom. Regardless, he's right. It is taller. Deciding you'll take his advice; you walk over to it and drag the piece of furniture all the way to the fridge. 
Leo sure is being helpful today, all things considered. Maybe he regrets being a douche?
You climb on top of the stool and stand on your toes. It's high enough that you're able to easily open the cupboard above. You instantly spot the yeast and several large bags of flour when you do. As soon as you shift your weight and get your hands around what you need, you hear the stool creak painfully. 
“...”
Cautiously, you settle backwards with the ingredients in your hand. Much to your dismay, as soon as you rest your heel onto the cushion of the stool, you hear a metal object clatter to the ground. 
And then it tips. 
“Shit…!”
You lose your momentum as the chair sways, and you unceremoniously crash to the ground on your side. The bag of flour in your arms bursts open and you're suddenly coated in the white powder. 
“Pffft…”
…That snicker. 
You drop the bag and the yeast, then lift your now aching body into a sitting position. Your eyes find Leo's. His phone is pointed towards you as if he's recording a video. 
Leo tilts his head as a devious grin splits his delicate features. “Smile for the camera, NPC.”
Your blood boils. 
“You did that on purpose,” You accuse, much more calmly than you feel. 
“Me?” Leo poorly feigns a perplexed expression. “Naaah, I don't tinker with chairs.”
You grab a fistful of flour and get to your feet, making a beeline for him. “You knew it was broken, don't fuck with me.”
Leo lifts himself from his stool, the seat sliding back audibly as he does. You watch him shove his phone underneath the waistband of his pants just as you're stopping in front of him. “Ah, ah. Not this time, Honor Roll.”
“You seriously think that's going to stop me at this point, Kurosagi?” You move your hand to fling the flour in his face, but Leo catches your wrist before it can do too much damage. All the same, the powder falls from your fingertips and onto the front of his clothes. 
He just laughs, though.
“That all you got? Flour is an easy clean up,” Leo taunts, thoroughly entertained.
His hold on your wrist is firm enough that you can't move it. You dart your other hand forward and go for his waistband, but he captures the other just as easily. 
“Delete it,” You demand, unwavering. 
Leo steps backwards as you continue to advance towards him, despite the restriction of your arms. 
The smile doesn't leave the vice-captain's face. “Nah. You don't get to cost me a pretty penny to recover data and also make demands. That's not how it works, Princess.”
“How is it that you get to push people around however you want and expect no repercussions?” You protest angrily. “We were even, if anything!”
Leo raises an eyebrow and scoffs incredulously. “Even? As if you could get even with me.”
You grit your teeth at his delusional nonchalance. “You must be far too used to people pandering to you, because you're on another level of entitlement!”
Leo doesn't have time to reply before you catch your right leg behind his and push forward with all your strength. As you had hoped, Leo loses his balance and falls backwards. Unfortunately, his hold on your wrists stays secure and you end up tumbling with him. 
The second he hits the ground, his grip loosens enough that you're able to tear your arms from him. You waste no time sitting up to straddle him. Your left hand grips the band of his pants while the right dives for the phone inside. Swallowing any embarrassment from the action, you find it resting against the side of his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. By the time you pull it out, you realize he's not fighting you anymore. A slight pink tinge adorns his face, yet he still sneers at you.
“Wow, pervert much?”
You ignore him and look at his screen, which miraculously is still unlocked. Clicking on the gallery, you browse the recent shots. 
There is no video, only recent selfies he's taken.
You narrow your eyes at him. “...You were bluffing.”
Leo sticks his tongue out. “Looks like you felt me up for nothing, freak.”
Heat rises to your face. “T-That's totally your fault, idiot! As if I wanted to!”
Without warning, Leo sits up, causing you to slide into his lap. He grabs his phone from your hand and his gaze lands on your wrist. 
The vice-captain blinks in surprise. “...Where'd you get that bracelet?”
The sudden question throws you off guard. You glance at the bracelet he's looking at. A unique gold pressed flower bracelet that you got from Kimyou. It’s a pre-order that hasn't been released yet, but the company gifted it to you because of your sponsorship. Leo must know this company, so his confusion is understandable.
“I…” You lick your lips nervously, fumbling for an excuse. “Have a friend that works there.”
You feel Leo's eyes on you and you reluctantly meet his gaze again. He stares at you for a few beats, his expression unreadable.
A short laugh escapes him. “Send me their info, I want a brand deal.”
Phew. Looks like he believes you.
“Not a chance,” You retort. 
“Am I interrupting something…?”
Your attention relocates to the doorway. Looks like Sho’s back. 
“No, you're saving me. NPC tried molesting me, can you believe that?” Leo lies, feigning a pitiful tone.
The cogs in your head turn and you belatedly recall that you're straddling the whiney influencer. 
You scramble off his lap and get to your feet. 
Sho places a hand on his hip, shooting his vice-captain a skeptical look. “I don't believe you.” 
Leo stands and brushes himself off. “That's ‘cause you're no better than the himbo.”
Sho seems to take notice of the state of the kitchen and gestures towards the fridge, his expression bewildered. “And what the hell happened here?”
“You're looking at the work of this clutz,” Leo fibs, jabbing his thumb in your direction.
“Bullshit,” You argue. “He told me to use that stool and it's broken!”
Sho gives Leo a precarious look. “C’mon man, you knew that was broken. You owe me another bag of flour.”
Rather than arguing, Leo just shrugs and makes his way towards the counter. ��What a whole five-hundred Yen? Worth it.”
“Clean it up, at least,” Sho demands.
Leo pulls his bowl back in front of him and picks up another round of noodles with his chopsticks. “Nope. I wasn't the one who spilled it.” 
Sho frowns. “Are you being for real? I'm not making (Y/N) do it. She's gotta be bruised to shit from that.”
Leo noisily slurps up his noodles. He takes his time chewing and swallowing before replying again. “Sucks to suck.”
Sho browbeats Leo with a hard stare as he continues to eat. The vice-captain stares at him back with an unbothered expression. 
“...”
Sho gives up after a few moments and lets out an exasperated sigh. He makes his way over to the broken stool and picks it up to move it out of the way. “...One day someone's gonna beat your ass and I won't cover for you.”
Leo ignores him and pulls out his phone, setting it on the counter to find something to entertain himself while he finishes his food. 
Sho grabs a broom and dustpan that's hanging on the wall and begins sweeping up the flour. 
“Hey, let me help,” You offer, making your way over to him. 
Sho laughs and shoots you a dubious look. “After the demon here nearly caused a concussion?”
Leo begins loudly playing a video that has a familiar instrumental on it. You talk over it.
“But I technically spilled it,” You point out.
Sho shakes his head as he collects a pile of flour with the broom. “Don't sweat it. You didn't hit your head did you?”
“No, I'm okay! Just a little bruising.”
You nearly jump out of your skin when the audio of someone speaking on Leo's video reaches your ears. It's a voice you're all too familiar with. 
The voice modulation for your Vtuber avatar. 
Sho scoops up a sizable pile of the flour and dumps it out into a nearby trash can. “Once I clean up I can show you how to make the dough. It's super simple.”
Sho does a brief explanation of the process of making the curry bread dough, but you're far too preoccupied with Leo watching one of your videos right in front of the two of you to pay attention. 
Is Leo a fan of yours? It seemed unlikely. You could only imagine the kind of shit he'd say about Vtubers. He always had some negative commentary about people that didn't show their face online when it came to hate. 
“...Sound good, (Y/N)?” Sho asks.
The sound of your name snaps you out of your thoughts. 
“Yeah… sounds good,” You answer, your gaze still locked on Leo. 
The vice-captain doesn't seem to notice your staring. With his eyes trained on the screen of his phone, he abruptly rises from his seat, taking the bowl and chopsticks with him. You watch him throw the tableware haphazardly into the kitchen sink, without rinsing it, before he leaves the room altogether.
Sho finishes up sweeping the last of the mess and dumps it in the garbage bin. “Alright, let me wash my hands and we'll get started.”
“...Yeah.”
So, Leo watches your videos.
When you get home later that afternoon, you spend time putting extra soundproof foam up in your room. The issue is, it's not foolproof against Leo's stigma unless you cover every inch of the walls and you only have so much. You decide you'll just continue to make an effort to record on rainy days, if at all possible. Even if Leo happens to over hear, you could just say you were watching your videos, right? 
All you know is that he's the last person that should find out about your identity. You can only imagine how much he would dangle that over your head to get you to do his bidding. 
Once you dress down and get cozy on your bed, you start doing research for your next video again. Not even an hour later, firechicken22 sends you a message on Snapchat. 
[Omg did u see that kodiakmiller started more drama?]
[I was actually just reading an article on that.]
[U probably can already guess but half the shit she says is complete bs. That bitch just virtue signals 2 get attention.]
[I kind of figured that based on the patterns of behavior. I'll keep that in mind when I record.]
You watch firechicken22 type for a little longer than usual before another message comes in.
[Am I the only influencer u talk to?]
[Would you be jealous if I said no? 😏]
[Lol nah. I would tell u to be cautious w em tho cuz most r two faced.]
[And you're an exception?]
[No lol.]
[...At least you're honest about it, I suppose. Should I worry about you doxxing me? 🤔]
[Nah. If I wanted 2 kno ur identity I could find out if I rly wanted to.]
[Oh? You're a tech guy?]
[Thats one way to put it lol. Anyway i already shit talked ppl ik to u. If u wanted u could easily blackmail me. :P]
[Do you talk to influencers outside of collabs?]
[Nah. Just you. 😘]
[Influencer is a generous word for me, haha. Anyway, why me?]
[Hm…]
You watch the ‘typing…’ text pop up again as you wait for an explanation.
[Bc u couldnt b more different than me ig]
[Really? We seem to have stuff in common.]
[Lol ur so cute]
[🤔]
[Anyway meant 2 ask. U got anymore brand deals w clothing companies?]
[Only a newer brand called modflavor. I should be receiving mail from them within the next day or two.]
[Wanna put in a good word for me w Kimyou? 🥺🩷]
That feels familiar. Where have you heard that before?
[Wouldn't I need to know your identity for that?]
[If u knew would u do it? :P]
[I don't see why not. The worst they could do is not reach out.]
Firechicken22 stops messaging for the moment. So, you continue your video research for the time being. Maybe two minutes later you receive a Snapchat, but this time it's an image. You open it.
Skin is the first thing you notice– clear and pale. An exposed collar bone, exposed torso in general. He appears to be posed over the edge of a tub. Your eyes wander up towards firechicken22's face. Soft features, gold eyes, gray hair, smug grin, cute. 
Your phone slips from your grip and comes crashing against the bridge of your nose. But you don't even register the pain. 
You've been messaging Leo?!
Did he know it was you? Was he just fucking with you? Some of your exchanges with him even bordered on flirtatious. And you admittedly had been having fun messaging him. 
… But it wouldn't make sense that he knows, because he's been talking shit about other creators on the platform. And Leo also knows you've been trying to find a way to get back at him for all the bullshit.
And maybe this would be the perfect opportunity.
Leo seems to like your content because it's a condensed and unbiased way to consume news. And for whatever reason he seems to like you as a person. But it's not like you act any differently in real life, so why the sudden flip of a switch when you're a stranger?
Another message notification rings audibly. You pick up your phone to view it.
[Heeello…? Don't tell me u have beef with me lol.]
That's right. Snapchat notifies when you open messages and it's probably been a solid two minutes since you've viewed his photo. You decide you'll play dumb. 
[No, sorry! I was just trying to recall your name! ☺️ I know I've seen your content around. You're Leo Kurosagi, right?]
[Yup]
[No wonder you're interested in fashion, you always look so stylish. 😊]
[Thx u do too lol 💕]
[That's only because of the brand deals, haha. Don't worry, I'll put a good word in for you with Kimyou. 😊🩷]
[Ur the best 😘. I'll give u a shout-out on my next stream. 🫰🏻]
[Thank you. 😇 You're kind of sassy on your streams, but I feel like I've seen a sweeter side of you through text messages.]
Laying it on thick.
You sometimes watched Leo before you ever came to Darkwick, but never recently. Not since you learned how self-centered he really is. 
[Wow, u down bad for me already?]
You would have assumed before the face reveal that firechicken22 is just teasing. But knowing Leo, he's probably egotistical enough to actually think that. You decide to let him have the compliment he's probably fishing for.
[You're very cute, but I'm not swayed that easily.]
[Give it time I could change ur mind 😏]
Why's he being so forward? Leo seems like a shallow person and he doesn't even know what you look like. It could be that he's just toying with you.
[Pffft, we'll see about that. Anyway, I'm going to do more research before bed. Unfortunately I'm a little behind. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Leo. 😊]
[Boooo. 😮‍💨 K I'll ttyl.]
[Goodnight!]
You close the Snapchat app and work on sending an email to Kimyou regarding Leo's recommendation. Afterwards, you'll plot your next move against the sneaky influencer. 
A couple days pass. You and Leo talk over Snapchat every afternoon and into the evening, while your in-person interactions remain unpleasant as usual. Your text conversations become more personal as you learn more about each other. Leo divulges details about his family and upbringing– things you've never been privy to before. He also asks you a variety of things whenever he wants to keep the conversation going. 
You wonder if he really doesn't talk to anyone in his private life like this. Sho seems to know him best, but their interactions are more impersonal, even when Leo isn't treating him like a servant. In a weird way, you feel honored that he seems to trust you enough to confide in you about the little things. 
Unfortunately for Leo, that didn't change the fact that you still held a grudge towards him and his reign of terror. 
You still had yet to decide how you're going to get back at him, though. It wouldn't be through exposing anything incriminating of him online. Leo knew his way around a computer and you're sure he could identify you anytime if he really wanted to. He would only be more inclined to expose your secret if you did something to alter his reputation.
No, you had to think bigger. 
Would it be possible to get him attached enough that if you ghosted it would hurt him?
…It's an idea.
Three days after the night you found out Leo's identity, your modflavor package arrives that afternoon. Since you've got a decent outline of news highlights, you decide it would be a good time to record a video and add a sponsorship segment. 
It's a rainy day, so you don't have to sweat the off chance that Leo's lurking around.
You record the news part first to get it over with and then take a short break to message back Leo.
[Ughhhhhh i hate the rain]
[Really? I find it relaxing.]
[It's noisy 😒 wyd?]
[I'm recording! My modflavor haul came in, so I'm about to try stuff on.]
[Fr? Show me.]
You take a photo of some of the outfits lined up on your bed and send it.
[I'm not going to wear all of these, though. The slip dress looks like it'd be revealing if I can't find anything to put under it.]
[Try it on n I'll let u know]
… Leo wants you to take a photo in it?
He did send you a photo in the tub for his reveal didn't he?
It's probably against your better judgement, but you change into the dress. 
As you suspected, it is a little revealing. It's a deep red color with a low collar that exposes a decent amount of cleavage. Overall, the dress hugs your body in a flattering way. 
Making sure to move your hair out of the frame, you sit on the bed cross-legged and take several photos from the neck down. In a burst of confidence you pick the sexiest looking one and send it.
It takes a minute, but Leo replies.
[Need more angles than that. :P]
… Did he, though?
You get up from the bed and walk over to your wooden full-body mirror hanging on the wall. Leo's never been in your room and has no reason to be, so you're not worried about him recognizing your surroundings. In spite of that, you very carefully take more photos of your dress at different angles without showing your face, or much background. You send them afterward.
[Looks good on u. 😘 If u got a black turtleneck and black belt wear it.]
You hate the way your heart skips a beat.
[I'll look! So it's a no go if I can't find them?]
[Yep it will look cuter accessorized. I can even send u some stuff.]
[Oh, like links?]
[No like literally lol]
Leo's offering to get you stuff?
Totally unexpected, but either way you'll have to decline. When packages are sent into Darkwick, they all use a similar address. The campus cats make the deliveries to the dorms from there using the student's names. 
[I don't have a PO box set up yet. I'm sure you understand! The thought is very appreciated, though. 😳]
[Lmk when u do]
[You're sweet when you want to be. 🥰 I'll talk to you here soon, I've got to finish recording.]
[I'll watch when it drops]
[A dedicated fan. 🤭]
[Not to mention one of the first lol]
Really…? You'd have to fact check that, but you do recall seeing his screen name a while back.
[I'm flattered. 🥺 🫶]
[U should be :P]
You're pretty sure you might have the items Leo mentioned in your wardrobe, but you decide not to wear that dress for the video. The filming of the try on haul doesn't take long, but you spend some time editing it and end up uploading late.
Leo texts you goodnight before you ever manage to get back to him.
Over a week goes by before you have any notable in-person interactions with Leo. 
Subaru invites you to eat lunch with him on a bench outside Sho’s food truck. The both of you ordered beef soboro.
You open the still warm container in your lap as you sit to the left of Subaru. “Looks as good as it smells!”
“It does,” Subaru agrees wholeheartedly. He breaks the poached egg on top with his chopsticks and begins mixing it. “He always goes the extra mile with the garnishes, doesn't he?”
“Mmmhm, it's no wonder he's gotten so popular.” You break your disposable chopsticks apart and glance up at the long line forming outside the truck. It's a good thing you guys came early.
Subaru nods and tilts his head in your direction. “It's been a while since we've been able to sit down and chat like this. How have you been faring? Anything new?”
“I've been good. Not a whole lot has happened recently.” 
Not that you can talk about anyway. 
“At least I'm not subjected to the demon this week,” You add.
Subaru's expression turns sympathetic. “Ah, yes. He was causing you some problems last week, I heard. I'm sorry you had to go through that, he can be very…” The Hotarubi Captain looks towards the food on his lap as he searches for a delicate way to put it. 
“A piece of shit?” You offer bluntly, as you mix your own food.
Subaru laughs. “I wasn't going to say it, but… there is no gentle way to describe it.”
“Yeah, I've certainly never encountered anyone like him in my life. He's seriously one of the most self-centered people I've ever had the displeasure of knowing,” You rant bitterly. “How does one even acquire such a rotten personality?”
“Well… perhaps trouble with homelife growing up. Maybe some level of neglect, skewed ideals, or lack of positive reinforcement,” Subaru suggests coolly.
You wonder if that is the case. Leo told you about his family over Snapchat, but not anything inherently indicative of neglect. 
The Hotarubi Captain continues. “Although, some people have a lack of social empathy without any direct cause. I don't want to make any baseless accusations, but there are some people that bully others due to suppressed feelings of inadequacy. They may even try to keep people at an arm's length, so they don't have to deal with the complications that come with forming attachments.”
The hand holding your chopsticks stills.
You consider the complexities behind the idea for a brief moment. It’s a lot to unpack for baseless speculation and the last thing you want to do is feel sorry for the jackass. “...I don't think that jerk can form bonds like a normal person anyway. He's a lost cause.”
Although you've been flirting with him over text and becoming a friend of his anonymously, you don't anticipate him getting that attached. If you ghosted him today, you're certain he'd be petty and angry for maybe a day before moving on. Even then, it would be over a bruised ego, not a lost contact. 
“Perhaps you're correct. You know him better than I, after all,” Subaru replies with a smile. 
The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while to eat your food. At some point you open up your phone and scroll funny Instagram reels. You find one that makes you laugh out loud, piquing the captain's curiosity. So, Subaru can get a better view of your screen, you scoot closer on the bench to watch together. 
While the two of you begin yucking it up, you fail to notice another student approaching you. You're in the middle of a particularly amusing reel involving a cat with the zoomies, when someone abruptly wedges in between you and Subaru. 
“--Hey…!” You yelp.
“Geez NPC. Didn't you see my jacket at the end of the bench?” Leo jeers as he settles himself on the seat, effectively ceasing your interaction with Subaru. “I had this spot saved.”
You frown, barely sparing a glance at said jacket before glaring daggers at the vice-captain. Instinctively, you scoot back so your thighs aren't up against Leo's. “Saving spots? What are you twelve? If it was that important, you wouldn't have left it!”
Subaru scoots to the other end, appearing a little meek at the new development. “O-Oh! Hello, Kurosagi. How are you?” The captain forces a smile. 
Leo's eyes shift to Subaru and he gives him a look that can only be described as bitchy. “Oh, it's you,” He says, as if he hadn't noticed the captain before cramming himself on the bench. Leo equips a fake smile of his own, but it's far icier. “Wow, you're so desperate that you're kicking it with this nobody? Your looks must not be enough to keep the baddies interested. That skittish personality of yours is kind of a turn-off, I guess.”
Subaru's jaw goes slack at the casual verbal assault. The captain's cheeks turn red as the insinuation settles in and his violet eyes dart towards the ground. “...Say what you want about me, but (Y/N) is very interesting and pretty.”
Your cheeks flush at Subaru's words.  
“...Hah. Eat shit, Leo,” You manage, internally swallowing your embarrassment. 
Leo looks at you and his lip curls back in disdain. Surprisingly, he doesn't acknowledge your taunt. Instead, he returns his attention to Subaru. “By the way,” Leo starts, his lips pulling into a tight-lipped, saccharine, smile. “I passed that werewolf kid on the way here. He's standing at the front entrance of the academy and he's looking for you. Said something about his voice command password for his ipad not working? I'm assuming it's ‘cause whatever he was trying to pronounce sounded like gibberish.”
Subaru's face falls. “Again?” The captain sighs and closes up his unfinished container of food before standing. He shoots you a skeptical glance. “Would you mind if I go check on him?”
You shake your head fervently. “No, it's okay! Take your time!”
Subaru's lips curl up pleasantly. “Okay. Maybe we can try again on Monday?”
“Sure! Sounds good to–”
“Ugh, just go already, will you? If I hear any more of this sappy shit I'm going to barf,” Leo complains as he looks up from his phone to sneer at Subaru.
“Leo!” You bark in irritation.
Subaru waves his hands in a placating gesture. “N-No! It's fine (Y/N), truly. I'll message you.” 
Before you can say anything more, Subaru is scurrying off.
You turn your head to glare at Leo. “What the actual fuck is your problem?”
The vice-captain leans back on the bench with his legs stretched out, as he taps away at the keyboard on his phone. “What?” He plays dumb, not sparing you a glance.
“Why were you being a dick to him? And did you actually run into Lyca?”
Leo shrugs. “I just told the truth. Except for the werewolf thing.”
Your eyes narrow. “...You lied to make him go away?”
“Who knows?” Leo responds dismissively.
Deciding you lost your appetite; you close your container of food. “...Funny. Almost seems like you're jealous.”
“Of him?” Leo scoffs, jumping to the conclusion. “As if there's anything to be jealous of. He's only relevant to a select community of people.”
You roll your eyes. “That's not what I meant.”
Leo's brow creases. His gaze slowly shifts back to meet yours. For a split second you swear he looks miffed, but he quickly recovers with another fake smile.
“...You?” The vice-captain throws his head back and barks out an obnoxious laugh. “Be fucking for real, Honor Roll. You're not even a little close to meeting my standards.”
You squint at him suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest. 
“Homely, boring, a buzz kill, useless, annoying.” Leo holds out a finger every time he lists a new insult. “Uptight, brainless, a clutz, obvious surface flaws.”
He's literally just spewing shit now. Somehow, you're not that bothered by it for once. But if Leo's so insistent on you being inadequate for him, you decide you'll begin your revenge arc starting tonight. You wouldn't want to disappoint him if he knew the truth, after all.
Sike.
“You know what? I could say the same for you. You're far below my standards too. I don't need to list the reasons, everyone knows you're insufferable,” You quip rigidly.
Leo sticks out his tongue childishly. “At least I can get a date.” 
“Oh? Well, Subaru asked me to go out with him next weekend on an off-campus trip,” You divulge.
Leo rolls his eyes. “And what? Do a mission? Hardly an advance.”
You shrug nonchalantly. “Well, he referred to it as a date.”
A fib, really. Subaru did invite you out to a theme park because he already had business in the area and wanted to spend time together. Lyca even managed to get a permit to come along, so it couldn't be considered a date. You don't clarify that, though. 
Leo’s lips twitch faintly. After a few seconds he rises from his seat. The vice-captain pockets his phone and turns heel but pauses to spare you a parting glance. “Good luck with all that. Make sure to wear a full face of makeup. It's the only way you'll stand a chance at keeping his interest, uggo.”
“Uh huh,” You respond, your tone unimpressed.
Just as Leo's leaving, you notice the jacket he mentioned earlier on the edge of the bench. It's white with blue patches on the elbows. Without warning, you pick it up and toss it at him. A sleeve wraps around his shoulder, just barely hanging on for dear life. He grabs the fabric before it drops to the floor and examines it curiously.
“Your jacket?” You say.
“...Yup,” He confirms belatedly. 
Leo doesn't put it back on. You watch him sling it over his shoulder as he exits the scene. 
Later that evening, you text ‘firechicken22’.
[Hey. Are you going to the Sumidagawa festival? I know it's popular with influencers.]
[Maybe lol. All depends.]
[On?]
[Are u going?]
[Depends.]
[??]
[Do you want to meet up with me, if I do? 😊]
You knew that Leo had a good chance of getting the permit to leave for it, considering he's vice-captain. For this event, a lot of permits were being granted to Darkwick students that have been proactive with missions. You even were offered one for this festival because of your hard work lately. Of course, you didn't intend on actually going. 
[Yea I do. Meet up w me in the afternoon. The fireworks show doesnt start til 7 but we can visit stalls.]
[Oh, you really want to? 🥺]
[Yep wanna c u irl 🙈💕]
Ugh… why is this sociopathic demon randomly cutesy?
[You might be disappointed if that's the goal.]
[Nah I wont be lol]
[Hah. What makes you so sure?]
Leo types for a little longer than usual before getting back to you.
[Well if u were a total catfish id still b ur friend lol]
This is a side of Leo that you're totally familiar with. He's unapologetically admitting that you may not fit his standards in appearance. There's no doubt in your mind he's genuinely expressing some level of romantic interest here. 
[Implying you're into me? 🤔]
[Thought i made that obvious lol]
[...Obvious isn't a word I'd use to describe you, haha. You type with a lot of hearts when responding to comments too. And you're a bit of a shit talker, so I wasn't sure.]
[I dont talk to ppl online a lot like this. Ur the first.]
And you believe that. You're sure now that Leo doesn't talk to any one person as frequently as he has been with you the last two weeks. 
Oh, well. You're still going to ditch him. 
[Me neither! But it's been fun. 😇 I'll text you tomorrow, okay? I'm probably going to fall asleep here soon.]
[K 🩷]
[Goodnight. 😴]
“Kaito…? What are you doing here?”
It's the afternoon of the fireworks festival and you're in the casino VIP room helping resolve scheduling conflicts for Romeo on his laptop. Kaito just walked in wearing the official wait staff uniform. He's holding a silver tray filled with drinks in one hand and the door with the other. 
“(Y/N)?” Kaito blinks, seemingly perplexed by your appearance. His face flushes pink and he averts his gaze. “I uh… that psycho said I could pay back some of my debt if I helped him out today.”
You nod in understanding. “That tracks.”
As much as you want to sympathize with Kaito, he's really just digging his own grave by actively borrowing money from Romeo of all people. 
“So what are yo– Hey…!”
Taiga shoulders past Kaito, grabbing a drink filled with brown liquid from the tray as he passes. He makes a beeline for the couch you're on and a toothy grin splits his face when he spots you. 
“Hey, it's the kitty cat~” 
Taiga plops down not too far from you and takes a swig of his drink. He haphazardly sets the glass on the edge of a coaster. You watch it begin to tip, so you hastily lean forward and adjust it properly to avoid a spill. 
You can only assume he recognizes you right away because you passed him earlier. 
“Hey, Taiga,” You greet him, before your gaze relocates to Kaito. 
The blonde walks in your direction and sets the silver tray of drinks on the coffee table in front of you. “Uh, Lucci asked me to walk him here…” Kaito explains nervously, his blue eyes darting from Taiga and back to you. 
The captain is already distracted and leaning forward in preparation to shuffle a deck of cards.
“Were you winning too many games again?” You ask the Sinostra captain in a playful tone. 
Taiga clicks his tongue. He tents the corners of two cuts of the deck together in a riffle shuffle. “Somethin’ crawled up his ass today. I wasn't gonna listen to him bitch anyway.”
“I understand.” You glance back up to Kaito. “You still owe Romeo from the last time?”
Kaito furrows his brow and lets out an exasperated sigh. “I had the money, but I left it in my jacket, and I can't find it.” 
“That sucks. Maybe it's somewhere obvious,” You suggest. “Did you try retracing your steps?”
“I tore apart my room already. Last place I remember having it was outside Sho’s food truck on the bench.” Kaito rakes a hand through his hair in distress. “Checked there yesterday though, no luck.” 
“I was just there yesterday during lunch! What did it look like?” 
The blonde gives you a piteous look. “White with blue patches.” 
…Isn't that what the jacket Leo took looked like?
“Anyway, it's good seeing you (Y/N). I'm gonna get back to work before that guy starts spamming me.” Kaito flashes you an upbeat grin and waves, before pivoting to leave.
“See you later!” You call back.
You redirect your attention back to Romeo's laptop. That is, until your phone pings multiple times at your side. 
You slide down your notification bar and can't help the grin that tugs at the corner of your mouth as you catch Leo asking about your whereabouts. You don't open the messages.
Today is a good day. 
“Kitty, play blackjack with me.”
You turn your attention to Taiga, your lips pulling into an apologetic smile. “Romeo asked that I adjust his staff schedule for him and I'm not quite finished.”
“Do it later.”
“If he walks in and catches us when I'm not done, he's going to have a cow,” You reason. 
Taiga deals you two cards anyway. “Nah, he's brown-nosing a big shot right now. ‘Sides, I won't tell if you won't.” The captain throws a wink your way. 
You can't help but express amusement at his antics. Deciding to entertain him for the moment, you set your laptop aside with your phone and scoot closer to the table. “I'll need a refresher on the rules though. And no betting real money.”
Taiga reaches forward to grab his drink again. He takes another swig of it, before dropping it back on its coaster, this time centered. 
“Fine by me. We got time.”
You stay at the casino until around seven in the evening before heading back home in the pouring rain. It's a good thing you remembered to bring your umbrella with you. The thought crosses your mind that tonight would be a good time to record a video.
Leo didn't continue to message you after the first string of texts, and you still had yet to open Snapchat. The fact that he didn't seem that desperate for your attention helped you feel less guilty about the whole thing. Not that you felt bad…
Leo's ego is probably just slightly bruised, and he'll get over it. 
Once you enter the cathedral and make your way up the staircase, you immediately notice several strange things. The door to your room is cracked open and the lights are on. And you couldn't hear it downstairs because of the rain and the soundproof foam you have up, but music is playing audibly too.
…Who the hell could be in your room?
The only person to ever enter without warning was Jiro. And he wouldn't be here at this time– certainly not blasting electro-pop music. 
Should you call someone to scope out the building? Is it safe to enter?
A familiar voice reaches your ears and it's enough to dissipate any looming sense of dread that had settled in your gut seconds before. You decidedly march to the top of the stairs and fling open the door to your room.
A body lays sprawled out on your couch, reading a book that's inadvertently concealing their face. You recognize the paperback as one of your manga volumes that had been collecting dust for some time. Not a second after the door makes contact with the wall, the book lowers.
Shit.
Leo smirks and tosses the volume carelessly on the coffee table in front of him. For reasons unbeknownst to you, he's wearing a set of headphones despite the music playing in the background. The vice-captain leisurely sits up and pulls them down to rest around his neck. He reaches for the stereo remote and lowers the music to where it sounds like a quiet lull. 
You hear yourself gulp.
“You're out late, huh?” Leo's jaw shifts like he's chewing something. 
Maybe he doesn't know. Act normal. 
You frown and manage a steady tone. “What the hell are you doing here, Kurosagi? And how'd you get in?”
“You left it unlocked, duh,” Leo replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “And I just wanna talk, that's all.”
You slowly walk over to a nearby end table and set your keys down. “I never leave my door unlocked.”
Leo's eyes crinkle at the corners, his lips curling into a delighted smile. “No? You sure did this time.” 
You narrow your eyes at him and redirect the topic. “What do you want to talk about? Make it quick, I'm tired.” 
Leo rises from his spot on the couch. You instinctively take a step back and almost hit the wall, despite being on the other side of the room. If he noticed, he doesn't comment on it. 
“I was just wondering about your friend that works for Kimyou,” The vice-captain explains innocently, his hand moving in an animated gesture. You watch him walk around, his eyes shifting to different areas of the room. “They got socials?”
You cross your arms over your chest, making a point to stay where you're at. “Even if they did, I wouldn't tell you.”
“Why not?” Leo walks up to the back wall and prods at a piece of foam hanging up. A red sphere of gum inflates from his mouth into the size of a tennis ball before bursting. “I thought we were just starting to be chummy too.”
“That's a crock of shit and you know it. I can't stand you. Also, don't move that!”
“Relax, NPC. I was just looking at the type of acoustic foam you have up. It's good quality, I've used this brand when I lived in a studio apartment.” Leo raps his knuckles against the textured surface and his gilt eyes meet yours again. “You sure have a lot of it, though. What for?”
Your stomach churns uneasily. “...Isn't it obvious? Your nosey ass snoops around all the time.”
Leo tents his brows, his expression skeptical. “Just for me, huh? This quantity can't be cheap for a regular Darkwick student.” 
“I have savings,” You counter, holding your ground. “Anyway, you asked what you wanted. You know where the door is.”
“I still have more questions.”
“They can wait until tomorrow.”
“Why not now?”
“Because I'm not in the mood. You came in unannounced!” You near shout as your patience wavers.
“Exactly. You would have been way more assertive with escorting me out if it were as simple as that,” Leo accuses as he steps a little closer to you. 
You hold your position, unmoving. “What are you implying?”
“While you were out, I took the liberty of doing a little digging.”
Leo knows.
You roll your eyes in an attempt to hide your crumbling nerves. “Digging? What are you on about?”
“Where to start…” Leo taps his chin thoughtfully. Following a brief pause, his features brighten, like he had an epiphany. “Did you know that even if you use a VPN, if you have access to your location enabled on other devices it's sort of a dead giveaway? You should, if you're posting online and all.”
Fuck.
“Posting online?” You feel the palms of your hands begin to sweat. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“I had my suspicions when I saw that bracelet. Not to mention every time that you've posted recently, it just so happens to be when it rains,” The vice-captain takes a few steps closer, until he's only a few meters away. Placing a hand on his hip, his eyes scan ambiguously over your form. “And those photos you sent me? You didn't even notice that you caught the beginning stages of bruising on your leg, right after your little tumble at Vagastrom. Then of course, there's that tacky looking mirror in here that’s a carbon copy of the one in the photos.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Your voice betrays you by cracking.
“Oh come off it! You're caught red-handed, so don't act all shy on me now.” Leo laughs derisively. “Tell me why you sent me those suggestive photos. Was it to seduce me? I really didn't think you had it in you. I mean, that takes guts considering how unappealing you are in real life.”
And suddenly you remember just why you took it this far.
You ball your fists up at your side as anger buries any and all feelings of disquiet. “Yeah? If I'm so unappealing, then why have you even entertained talking to me, dumbass?”
Leo squints at your comment, his phoney cheerful demeanor not faltering. “Maybe I just felt sorry for you. You ever consider that?”
“You're full of shit, Kurosagi. If that were the case you wouldn't have told me so much personal stuff or even messaged me in the first place!” 
Leo pauses, giving you a sideways look. “All that personal shit may as well be fabricated. I could have been playing you the whole time.”
“I recognized that screen name of yours when you messaged me. You've been a viewer for months, so I don't buy it,” You argue. “What do you even hope to gain by coming here?”
“What made you decide it was a brilliant idea to ask me out just to ghost me?” Leo throws back at you, deflecting the question. 
You clench your jaw. “I asked first.”
He scoffs. “Like I care.”
An exasperated sigh escapes you. “Obviously it was to get back at you for being an asshole!”
“Oh?” Leo raises an eyebrow, his expression tickled. “You think you hurt my feelings? That's rich, Honor Roll.”
“What did you really come here for?” You try again. “If you found my IP, it's irrefutable. So what's the point? And don't even try to blackmail me either, because I got shit on you too now, Kurosagi!”
Rather than deflecting with more insults, Leo shifts his stance and stares at you like he's deliberating something. After a few beats he speaks. 
“Okay, I'll bite. Let's say I enjoyed your company. Maybe even though I suspected your identity a few days into chatting, I wanted to test the waters. So maybe I didn't bother verifying.”
Your stomach flips when Leo begins to saunter towards you. Unconsciously, you find yourself taking another step back. 
The vice-captain stops two feet away from you, his jaw moving visibly as the gum shifts around in his mouth. His lips are tinted red and a little swollen, like he just got done eating something hot. A bitter smirk paints his soft features. “I wanted to see if you'd actually show. And when you decided to ditch without a word, I wasn't entirely surprised. You knew I had the means to find out your identity if I wanted to.”
You did know there was a possibility he'd confront you. The idea wasn’t intimidating enough to stop you from doing it.
“Almost like you wanted to fight with me about it.” Leo's eyes crinkle with mirth as he tosses a cat-like grin your way. “Fess up. Do you like our little disputes, Honor Roll?”
The teasing tone he uses inadvertently sends heat crawling up your neck.
You consider the question. It's not like it's one that hasn't crossed your mind before. Some part of you finds the conflict entertaining, but not when he involves Lyca or any of your friends. And his mean comments do get under your skin sometimes… But could you rightfully say you hated him for it?
“I could ask the same thing to you,” You reply with a smirk of your own. “You're the one bringing it up, maybe it's projection.”
“And what if I do think it's fun?” Leo admits readily. “Judging by your reaction, I think we're on the same page.”
The vice-captain takes another step towards you and loops an arm around your waist. You suck in a sharp breath of air as his free hand cups the side of your neck and his thumb brushes against your throat. 
“H-Hey…!“ You press your palms instinctively against his chest, but for reasons you can't pinpoint, you don't shove him away. His cologne swarms your senses– earthy and a little floral. The sudden, non-hostile, proximity makes you feel a little dizzy. 
Rain begins to pummel relentlessly against the roof. It's so deafening that if Leo wasn’t so close, his next words might be difficult to pick up. 
“I guess you're not half bad now that I get a better look at you. It's a shame you've got the personality of a wet blanket,” Leo drawls, with a notable lack of animosity in his tone.��
Your nerves catch on fire when his hand shifts to cup your jaw unexpectedly.
What the hell is he doing?
Leo's grip isn't restricting your movements by much. In fact, you're sure you could get out of this if you really wanted to. Why did his hands have to feel so soft? The warmth he's radiating is so inviting that you're tempted to lean into his touch. Maybe the cold weather is influencing this senseless feeling. 
“...Yeah, you should find it really embarrassing that you carried an ‘NPC’ through so many lengthy conversations,” You bite back, your fingers curling against his shirt. “It must have been like talking to a brick wall.”
Leo's thumb brushes against your bottom lip. “Why do you think I'm really here? I need to make sure you keep that info under wraps somehow. A gossip blog highlighting that loser shit would ruin my reputation.”
“Pffft…” A snicker bubbles up from your mouth from his banter. “Wait until they hear about you touching up on me too. That would be so humiliating.”
“Oh, well.” Leo smirks. “I'll adjust the narrative in my favor.”
Thunder claps outside, loud enough that objects in your room shake with the reverberation. 
The abruptness is enough to startle anyone out of their skin, but for some reason neither of you move. Maybe it's because your heart is hammering in your chest so violently that you hear it over everything else. And you might be mistaken, but you're pretty sure you feel Leo's beating just as desperately through the fabric of his shirt. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his gaze lingers on your lips, but he seems to be hesitantly dancing around an idea.
You're not sure how the two of you ended up in this predicament, or why he's even reacting like this. What you do know is that Leo's unusual display of nervousness is fueling your own ego for once. You decide to voice your hunch and accept the inevitable repercussions.
“I must not be that unappealing if you're staring at me like that. Don't tell me that after all that shit talking you’ve never kissed anyone?”
Leo's brow creases in annoyance. “Of course I've kissed people before, just not–...” The vice-captain cuts himself off and averts his gaze.
Now, that's a look you could get used to.
“...Just not?” You press in amusement. 
Leo huffs, his eyes meeting yours again– this time with determination. “Ugh. Just shut up, Honor Roll.”
The vice-captain leans in, slanting his mouth at an angle and you accept the advance. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips meld into yours.
Butterflies stir in the pit of your stomach as you return the kiss. And despite the well anticipated crash landing, his lips are quick to move against yours with urgency– robbing you of the courtesy of easing into a rhythm. Seeing as how everything with Leo has always been an uphill battle, it's nothing you weren't used to.
You adapt, reciprocating with an intensity that mirrors his own. A tingling sensation begins to linger around your mouth the longer the kissing continues, but it's so mild that you dismiss it unthinkingly. Leo's arm tightens around your waist, and you're pulled right up against him. You decide that the plush feeling of his lips on yours is one you could easily get addicted to. 
At some point Leo separates, just barely. His fingers dig into your cheeks, and he regards you with a half-lidded gaze.
“Open,” He demands, his hot breath ghosting over your lips.
The sudden verbal request throws you off guard. Your first instinct is to question him, but you fold after a brief standstill. His tongue delves past your parted lips, and you feel the metal bar of his piercing clack noisily against the back of your teeth. The inflamed sensation you felt earlier only gets stronger as the kiss deepens, to the point where you decide to break away. Just as you're preparing to jerk your face from his, the vice-captain pushes the wad of gum he was chewing into your mouth. 
You involuntarily catch it between your tongue and the roof of your mouth to prevent yourself from choking. It's only then that you realize what the burning sensation was from, as the center of your mouth catches on fire.
Leo's hand grazes your upper thigh right as you're extending your palms forward to push him away. The second your mouths disconnect, your hand covers your own, and you start coughing violently from the overload of capsaicin. 
The vice-captain laughs obnoxiously at your expense as he steps back from you.
“LEO, COUGH…! WHAT THE…COUGH…! FUCK IS THAT?!” 
Tears well up in your eyes and you bolt for trash. Leo continues speaking, but you're too focused on getting the gum out of your mouth to actually listen. 
“Carolina Reaper flavor. Pffft, you look so red! Ahahaha…!”
Once you spit the gum into the garbage bin, you immediately head for the sink and fill a nearby glass with water. As you chug it, you remember the hard way that water can exacerbate inflammation, but your options are woefully limited right now. You stand at the sink for a while, drinking a couple of glasses until the sensation dissipates to a manageable level. 
Following your recovery, you flip around to reprimand Leo, only to find him perched on the edge of your bed with a phone in his hand. The harsh words you had intended to throw at him die in your mouth when you notice the case of the phone. You pat your now empty pocket to confirm your suspicions. 
That idiot had the gall to take your phone too?!
“What are you doing with that?” You hurry towards him as mild panic sets in. 
Leo kicks his shoes off and slides farther back onto the bed, as if to give himself a few seconds longer to finish whatever it is that he's doing. “Just removing evidence, chill out.” 
“Evidence?!” You repeat impatiently as you stop in front of the mattress. “Give it back.”
Leo plops his head down on one of your pillows. “Two seconds.”
“What the fuck do you mean two seconds? No!” You climb onto the bed and grip the edges of the case to pull it from him. 
Thunder cracks outside again, but this time it takes the power with it. The lights in your room flicker for a split second, and then the room goes black entirely. You and Leo blink at each other in surprise, your faces illuminated somewhat by the natural light coming in through the window. 
You sigh, your grip loosening on the phone in defeat. “Fuck. This is your fault.”
Leo scoffs. “The weather? Wrong vice-captain.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “My poor luck. I was going to record today.”
A weather alert notification rings loudly from your phone. You slide next to Leo to peer at the screen.
“Severe thunderstorm warning until midnight,” You read aloud. “The campus cats will promptly work to recover the power back in the dormitories. Darkwick staff strongly advises students to remain in their respective buildings for the time being… Shit.” 
Without warning, Leo peels back your comforter and settles underneath it, making himself right at home. “Aaawh. Looks like you're stuck with me. Poor you.”
You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I could keep you downstairs too.” 
Leo's lips pucker into a pout. “After getting the privilege to kiss me? Show some gratitude.” 
“You spit hot ass gum into my mouth,” You deadpan.
“It's not even that hot. Not my fault you can't handle it,” Leo retorts. 
You stare at the vice-captain for a moment. He looks cute cozied up under your sheets. For the time being, you forget about him messing around on your phone. You realize how confused you still are by the random shift in his actions. “...Why did you kiss me, though?”
Leo rolls on his right side and props his head in his hand as he looks up at you. “‘Cause I felt like it.”
His statement is resolute, yet still leaves more questions than answers. 
You shake your head tiredly. “You're so confusing, seriously. Everything you say and do contradicts itself.”
“Maybe you just suck at reading me.”
“Or maybe you do it so I can't.”
The soft accusation makes Leo shut up for a few moments. His expression remains unreadable, and your phone still limply resides in his free hand. 
“Get under the covers with me,” He demands, blatantly diverting the topic.
You feel your cheeks turn pink at the sudden request. “Nice cop out. I'm not going to do anything until you tell me exactly what you deleted on my phone.”
“I told you– evidence. Just anything that indicates I'm connected to that burner account.” Leo shrugs.
You raise an eyebrow at that. “I wouldn't have told on you. And you better not rat me out.”
Leo smirks impishly. “It's cold as shit in here, Honor Roll. Get under the covers and your secret is safe with me.”
You click your tongue and stand up to peel back the comforter. “Fine. But it has to be permanently safe if I agree now– no backtracking.”
“Cross my heart~” Leo assures.
You browbeat him for a moment. Once you determine he's being sincere, you slip underneath the covers next to him and prop your head up on a pillow. “I'm taking this back, though.” You grab your phone in his hand, and he lets go without a fight. 
“Have it your way,” Leo acquiesces.
You begin checking your apps for any signs of tampering besides what the influencer admitted to. As you flick through tabs, you feel a weight settle against your chest. You redirect your attention to find Leo shamelessly cuddling up against you, his arm looping around your waist. 
It's… stupidly cute.
Rather than drawing attention to it, you bury your muddled thoughts to resume the task at hand. You look around for a little longer and determine that Leo had indeed only deleted some messages. He probably knew you wouldn't really do anything anyway. Almost everything he did to annoy you ended up being a ploy for attention. 
A message notification pops up from Subaru and you click on it. 
[… Kurosagi?]
Huh?
There’s a text beforehand from Subaru and then one sent from your device. 
[Hello, (Y/N)! I hope you're in your dorm safe in this weather. I just checked the forecast for next weekend and there is a high chance that it will be storming Saturday. Do you have any plans for Sunday? 😊]
[Sry bozo i have plans. 🤥 Dont bother asking me other days either. 💀 Mayb if sho feels bad 4 u he will cancel service so u dont have 2 contest a refund 🤣🤣🤣]
“Leo, what the fuck?” 
A ghost of a smirk appears on the vice-captain's face. He doesn't need to ask what you found. “Hmm?”
“Do NOT text people on my phone without permission. Now I have to apologize! You being here at this time of night is going to look weird, you know?”
“You going on a date with a guy after making out with me is even weirder,” Leo counters, not bothering to lift his head. “He shouldn't be messaging you this late anyway.”
You did tell him it was a date when you were shit talking to each other. But you really don't have the energy to explain all that right now. 
You type out a quick apology text to Subaru and set aside your phone. 
Having Leo this close to you felt foreign, but it certainly isn't unwelcome. The cold rain harshly pelting the roof of your poorly insulated room feels even more serene when there's a warm body nestled against you. You experimentally run your fingers through Leo's hair to test the waters. A pleased hum reaches your ears amongst the ambient noise, wordlessly inviting you to continue. 
You're not sure how your relationship with Leo will be after all this. Romantic? That's something you can't really picture. Not in the traditional sense.
You got yourself a little too involved with Darkwick's most difficult and bratty ghoul. Now you'd have to navigate the consequences that follow. 
140 notes · View notes
blackberreh-art · 3 months ago
Text
Old Man Yaoi AU future rambles
I never posted the full thing here, so I thought why not, since I'm struggling to get anything new down lol. Just copy and pasted from twitter, so forgive any weird formatting or errors!
Tumblr media
I started this not knowing where I wanted to go with it, just knowing '10 years after being gone from japan, old man yaoi afomight come back because Toshinori has a bleeding heart and AfO is along for the ride' . And I didn't know what I wanted to show exactly, just the comfort and ease at which the two acted with one another.
AfO's gonna join Toshi at the railing and hold out a hand. Knowing what he wants, Toshi's gonna pull out a pack of cigarettes and let AfO take one.
"I don't know why I still carry these." Toshi says, watching as AfO lights the cigarette with a flicker of a stolen fire quirk. "
Habit." AfO says. "The lingering effects of the leash around my neck. Does it bother you?"
All Might quirks a brow. "What? The fact that I have to carry your shit for you, even now?"
AfO chuckles. That wasn't what he meant, and Toshi knows it. That's answer enough really - the experiments, the chip in his brain (even now long destroyed), the torture that AfO went through at the hands of the HPSC - of course it still bothered Toshi.
Coming back to japan…
It's weighing on Toshi. He's here to help his former students, even though he's retired officially as a hero. Vigilantism is still frowned upon, but no-one has the balls to tell All Might to keep to the sidelines, especially now that he has a few quirks on his side. And AfO. And isn't that funny? AfO has stated many times that he refuses to lend a hand. Toshi's alright with that. He's alright with the company alone. He still marvels at the fact that AfO still kept himself leashed to-
(Guilt, self hatred, Toshi still hasn't let them go. His former enemy could throw him that crooked grin that he'd hated so much in the past and Toshi would just melt these days.)
Toshi let out a heavy breath. Being back here… it was making it so much harder to rationalize his thoughts. His emotions. AfO stood by his side through all the meetings, appearing bored out of his mind and throwing in many a snide remark, and Toshi looked at him and thought 'I should hate this man.'
He didn't, though. The heroes, his former students scurried around the former demon lord like he was going to snap at any minute. Tenko refused to be in the same city as him. Izuku and Katsuki watched AfO with a single minded determination to put him down before he can even think to make a move, and only Toshi knew that AfO really had no intention to shatter the tentative truce in place.
Only Toshi knew AfO had other plans. He always had other plans. Some Toshi knew the details of, some he didn't, and there was a time when that would have terrified him. 15 years to spend together, through danger after danger…
Toshi knew AfO.
The doubts, when they appeared, didn't last.
"Does it bother you?" Toshi tossed the question back, and AfO paused, cigarette to his lips. Hazy white eyes drift to meet Toshi's, and the former hero marvels at just how easy it was to read AfO now.
AfO was disgruntled.
"Yes, and no." AfO said. "I don't care about your little students." A pause, and AfO's eyes gain a focus that has Toshi's hackles raising. "Hm. No, I suppose I do. But not because they all fear me or I feel any guilt for what I did to them."
A long time ago, Toshi would have flinched. He didn't even bat an eye now, even as he thought of Tenko and the sheer torment that All for One put that boy through.
(Guilt, guilt, guilt...)
"No, your one boy... Izuku Midoriya." AfO's gaze dropped focus again, his form relaxing when Toshi didn't bite at him defensively at the sound of his former students name. Toshi stood there, listening. "Or rather, One for All. And my brother."
Toshi hummed. His focus is intent. "Are you going to try taking it back again?"
AfO didn't look at him. Eyes unfocused again, cigarette dangling from between his fingers, burning away without being used. Toshi waited patiently. "... I said I would not." All for One finally said as he came back to himself. There's a tension to his mouth now. He's unhappy about it. "Your trust was hard enough to earn as it was. However..."
AfO is in Toshi's personal space now, a wall of heat pushing back the encroaching chill of the evening. Toshi braced a hand against the railing and shifted to face him, brow quirked. AfO always did like to crowd when he wanted to make a point or had something important to say.
"Do you remember what I said to you that last night we were here?" There's that crooked grin again, charming and threatening and so very well practiced. "When you played at hero when you didn't need to? When you were bleeding out and I had to carry you to safety?"
Toshi swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "When - yes, what are you getting at?"
AfO finally brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a lazy drag. Smoke curls through the air, and Toshi breaths it in with shiver, remembering a time when he would have doubled over, unable to breathe.
"I can't fault you for being a hero." AfO said. "It's who you are at your core. You're the perfect hero, and I so utterly adore that. You're here to help, because of course you are, you're All Might."
Even when praising him it sounds condescending.
"But I want you to remember what I told you then." AfO flicked the cigarette carelessly to the ground and crushed it under the heel of his shoe. "About what will happen if your heroism gets the best of you, and you end up killing yourself."
At that, Toshi winced. Ah.
(a preview of THAT is this)
Tumblr media
(imagine Toshi's head in AfO's lap after being shot by the president of the HPSC lmao...)
AfO's smile is all threat. "If you let your heroism get the best of you, and you end up killing yourself, then know that there is nothing left to prevent me from completing my initial goals and taking One for All for myself."
It wasn't the healthiest of ultimatums.
But it was one Toshi remembered laughing at after hearing it for the first time. Live, because if not then AfO would turn back into the supervillain he was at heart? 'Live, or else I kill everything you hold dear?' He'd thought it was kind of sweet. Hadn't wanted to question why.
Still doesn't want to question why. Even now, he finds it kind of sweet. Knows its... messed up.
He smiles at All for One, feeling warm. "Don't worry about me. I don't plan on dying anytime soon."
"Good boy." All for One croons, and his arms snake around Toshi's waist.
They stand together in silence for a moment, and the evening sky deepens around them. AfO breaks the silence. "I feel you should know it's actually quite difficult to behave. I'm showing remarkable restraint."
Toshi snorts against AfO's neck, muffling his laughter. "Good boy."
180 notes · View notes
vyzz-undercover · 4 months ago
Text
pspspsps dinner time everyone
[cato/f!ambassador]
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)
(5,700ish words) (im cooked)
CONTENT WARNINGS:
•slight dubcon [again]
•hints of size kink
•intercourse [M/F]
•discussions of virginity
•vague breathplay
•even more negligible aftercare
•degrading language
•mild possessive behaviour
•tumblr's pisspoor formatting as per last time
———————————————————————————————————
im once again doing a free magic show here and pulling a rabbit (this fic) out my ass. so, without further a-do the tagging... @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @pluvio-tea, @the-raven-lady, @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @lemon-russ. let me know if anyone else wanna be tagged if i do a part three HAHAHAHHAHA i might double down on the comedy-of-errors and have Guilliman get involved. Not like a three-way with this particular fic, even if I'd love to slut papa smurf out. There's always another time and another chance to sexualise an old man :3
———————————————————————————————————
Cato finds you relatively easily.
Truthfully, you make no actual sport of it. But he's never going to pass up a cheap bit of entertainment at your expense.
At this time of the ship's cycle you're most likely to be in the east wing, pointedly the lower libraries. He knows this. He won't confess why or how he knows, though—so, fuck off.
You're lazy and predictable. To say nothing of the fact you're far too comfortable scuttling about his Father's vessel. If a hypothetical assassin ever could get onto the ship without being stomped into paste by him immediately, they'd have no problems tracking you down. You may as well be a sevitor running on rails for all your movements stay the same.
He notes you're not on the first level.
Nor the second.
You are on the third, in the leftmost quadrant.
In the restricted reading area.
You do have clearance—but the fact still irks him. Typically, this was for his more decorated brothers to catalogue Xenos. Typically, one needed to be accompanied to even access this level.
But oh, no—no, you're allowed.
You're allowed because you are a damnable leach of a woman. And also the bane of his existence, did he mention that? And you're—you're—tucked up in secure side-room, reading on a data-slate; half-asleep in a little blue robe and looking the pict of adorable sloth.
You don't notice him immediately.
Clearly too absorbed in your gerrymandering-for-servitors cheat-sheet.
And that annoys him even more.
Because, are you really that obtuse? So unassailable in your own mind that you're this blatantly fucking oblivious? He's an Astartes, damn it. Sure, he's in casual rest attire instead of clanking plate—but he's a large, two-and-a-bit meter tall trans-human war-machine standing in the doorway—and you haven't even noticed him. Ignorant like some little rodent chewing away at crumbs in it's hovel.
His Father's got a vermin problem on board, and the mice are stupid and bold and literate... along with rather cozy, apparently.
A finely woven navy throw is swaddled around you where you're lying on the chaise lounge. And the sight of you bundled up inspires a vivid déjà-vu of the last time you were alone with him with little more than a blanket over you.
Cato hesitates for a heartbeat, swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and sets his jaw.
He steps into the room and waves a hand over the laser-pad locking mechanism.
There's a fractional second in which you become cognisant to the sound of the shutter door closing and where you actively notice him.
Then there's a shrill scream as if you've pinched a nerve.
The data-slate goes flying, pelted at his head. But it hits the shutter door and clatters to the floor, far-off any hint of a good mark.
Useless woman.
Realising it's him a moment later, you heave out a racketing sigh.
"Throne of Terra, Ca—" you start, and it sounds like you're going to say his first name before you rightly correct yourself and say, "C-Commander, you scared me half to death."
He immediately sets about accosting you, "Have you been sitting here with the door open this whole time?"
"No," you nip out.
"You are aware that I can tell when you're lying?"
"I'm certain you can," your tone flattens in a way he's only ever heard you talk to particularly sleazy representatives with. It's not an honest exchange, it's double-speak. It's mocking. You're mocking him.
He grits his teeth.
You've grown more open in your defiance towards him as of late, certainly not because of any revelation or reason and it rubs him in a dangerous, new way. He's not about to let it slide, either.
"Is that so?" His words are sharp and accusative and he hopes—he hopes he'll get the delight of watching you cower like you usually do when confronted by him. "Have you been lying to me often, then?"
Half his hopes come true. You look away nervously and mumble something almost inaudibly, and he'd not have noticed if not for his far superior hearing.
It was, "...maybe," and all Cato can help but do being himself, is detonate.
"And what have you been deceiving me of, you scheming little whore?" He snarls, fuming—a dozen crimes and sins crowding his mind you might be tried for. Maybe he's been far too lenient to the actual reality of your evil. Finally, validation to corroborate his deviation—maybe you'll admit you're some Slanneshi fleshchanger, and that you intended to have burrowed so deep in his mind.
Nonetheless, you're nowhere near even close to fast enough to defend yourself. But it's not like he gives you the chance.
He's crossed the distance with a practiced speed. And quicker than you can even yelp, you are pinned to the lounge—a shackle in the form of his fist around your smaller throat.
The pressure is a limp handshake by his standards. You're not really choking. Just stifled slightly for good measure.
Still, it'd be a mere flex to break your neck. He could snap you like a stylus with what was to him, ultimately, nothing but a simple twitch of his fingers. And he would think more about the blatant contrasts between you both much longer if he wasn't far too distracted by the fact you even struggle prettily wantonly. Big eyes wide and glossy with animal panic. Involuntary tears gather at the corners as you register what's going on at last. The mad temptation to lick them if they so much as dare trail down your cheeks begins eating at him.
Some rational part of his rational mind reminds him he can't get the truth out of you when he's vaguely throttling you, though—and he lets you go begrudgingly. Instead opting for looming over you as you roll sidelong on the couch, breathing fast.
He crouches down to your level and grumbles, still absorbed in his raging.
"Speak," he barks, and pointedly grabs you by the chin.
"I–I hadn't actually—" you start, breathless as you mumble. "Actually, uh, laid with anyone, even though I nodded I sort of... had."
He's staggered at the statement, "...that's it?"
A vague lie of omission, but it's not the great corruption he sought to root out.
Then he actually thinks about what you've just admitted.
Like fog banished under a rising sun, his anger at the thought of treachery immediately dissipates into blistering revelation.
"Hold on, you..." Cato starts, baffled and completely knocked for a six, meeting your gaze slowly—genuinely stunned as he pulls his hand back fully. "I... I was the first?"
You look away cursorily, face reddening not only with your previous strains, but with embarrassment.
Now, that was the reaction of a guilty conscience.
Cato doesn't know what to do with the information. Nor does he really know what he feels.
He'd been the first. He feels like he's won something over his brothers. Therefore, fuck the lot of them—and fuck Titus, specifically. Even if he's not sure why. He truly couldn't believe it. There's success, sure—but then there's taking the laurels: whole and absolute. And this... this is exactly that. But oh, for some apparently vestal thing, you'd let him bully down to the hilt in your tight cunt; whining like a whore when he spilled himself inside you. Throne, it was almost suffocating to think back on it now. So willing to have your maidenhead taken, nevermind the fact you weren't the only one who'd had a new experience that day. But you didn't need to know that.
"Another notch to my mantel of victories then," he ultimately decides is the best thing to say, gloating to himself.
"Unbelievable," you sigh softly as you shakily sit yourself up.
But there's the problem again. The one tangible, constant problem with having laid you. It's made you mouthy. He only ever glimpsed your boldness when you interacted with other baselines in the past. You never sassed Astartes, or at least, he's never seen you do it. But now that stubbornness and unwillingness to back down in a political forum is on full display heedless of situation. As if you've suddenly become one of the auto-felating Imperial Fists—or any of Dorn's insufferable ball-busting scions, really. Worst of all, it's only managed to somehow make him even more enthralled annoyed with you than usual. You're still too good at quashing your anger, hard as it is to rouse. But he loves loathes that you bite the lure instead of shying off now.
"To think that I was the first—is your entire professional role not centred around charm? Would no one else have you with that rotten attitude you've been hiding?" he says, knowing he's being nasty, knowing he's twisting the knife; and absolutely praying for you to fall for it.
Cato watches a rainbow of emotions pass over your features, before you settle on one that makes you look like you ate something sour. He's hit a weak spot. But the sentiment holds true. His Primarch thinks you the best and brightest to sway planets? You couldn't even seduce some daft, drunken aristocratic fool to fuck you.
You, the prettiest baseline he's ever seen.
...maybe Guilliman is right in saying the Imperium has rolled belly-up with bloat.
"That's not—that's not why and you know it," you open your mouth and jumble your words briefly before getting out, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who won't have a panic attack because of the several Astartes that insist on following you around?" You continue, raving and flustered, "Do you think anyone would get near me with you—or—or... maybe Captain Acheran, or the good Chaplain, let's say, breathing over my shoulder?"
"You should be grateful any of us waste our time babysitting you," Cato oafishly shoots back like a petulant child, brows furrowing, "You should be thanking me for doing the brunt of it."
Your nose scrunches up, "Pardon me, Commander, it's surely entirely my fault that we are both at the whims of our Lord Primarch."
He pauses.
Something about this interaction isn't stirring his temper like it should.
He should be absolutely livid with anger, or at the very least blowing your eardrums out with a 'shut the fuck up,' at full Astartesian line-command volume.
Yes, he should be seething, and yet he's not. To his surprise, he's actually feeling more enthused than anything.
This feels... exciting, almost.
"You've only grown the backbone to talk back to me because I fucked one into you," he remarks sharply in reply.
You sputter, and go red, robbed of your words.
"Or maybe this is mere performance," He adds with a sneer, tipping his chin up proudly.
You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic puff of air, "Y-You're such a..." you start, but your voice tapers off—and you look away, pouting.
"I'm a... what?" He taunts, leaning close.
You grumble, apparently feeling brave again; meeting his gaze and puffing yourself up.
"You're a bully," you hiss, clearly upset but undeniably frazzled enough to be somewhat ranting again as you add, "A bully w-who's so disgustingly egotistical you've convinced yourself you're some great conqueror or... something... j-just for having been in me, as if I've never put anything in myself before."
Oh, but wait, Cato likes the idea of that. He likes it so much he completely forgets to acknowledge the insults in your statement prior. He likes the idea of you suffering like he had been—alone, yearning—aching for something you didn't know the dizzying reality of. He can imagine you smothering your sounds, those blessed whines he's got memorised, into a pillow in that cushy little quarters of yours, squirming on your meagre fingers, or maybe cold silicon. You didn't need that lesser imitation now. Cato'd gladly fill that role. He'd gladly fill that hole, too.
Nonetheless, he immediately wonders who you were getting off thinking about.
He'd streak the length of the ship for it to've been him you'd been fucking yourself over.
"Who were you thinking of?"
You blink at the completely offhanded question, then start sputtering, stalling.
"What? I-I—" you stammer, "That's not important or relevant—I just... did it, it's—"
"Keep lying and see where it gets you," He cuts in, raking you with an aggravated frown, and oh, excellent, you're starting to relearn he's not fond of your half-truthing, finally.
You duck your head a little, cringing under his gaze, trying to scoot yourself backwards. But there's nowhere to go.
Cato realises belatedly that in the middle of your antics, the sleeve of your robe has started to fall from your shoulder. His brain short-circuits momentarily with the sheer amount of air that floods his head. Your warm, soft skin on display just for him. He didn't get to see all of you last time. He felt a good portion of you, yes—but he didn't get the chance to admire acknowledge the whole vista. Not because he was too desperate to rut against to try. Or because he was probably going to swoon like a fool if he did. Shut up, he's no coward. Afterall, his hands had been close to your chest, but now—now he can actually look.
He's going to absolutely ruin that lovely canvas you've given him.
"Nobody," you say softly.
"Groxshit," he snaps.
"Fine—" You swallow and start scrambling for a response, "Malum C-Caedo."
Cato genuinely cannot help but bark a laugh at that, "Spare me, you haven't even met the man, moron—you're only saying that because your most recent reading was on his last briefing," he rolls his eyes. "You forgot I was there with Guilliman when you were given it."
You look at him like a cornered little mouse, and finally—finally, your sleeve falls just enough that he's given a perfect view of one of your tits.
"You already..." you grumble softly. "You already know who, then, so I shouldn't even have to dignify this."
"It's me, isn't it?" He asks darkly, and while he tries to sound haughty, the fact he's thrilled by both the notion and the sight of your partial nudity ends up warping his tone into a vaguely manic chuff.
You glance aside and stammer loudly, "N-No."
No, you say—but he hears your little heart flutter. And sees your pupils dilate.
"I hope you're aware you can't lie to save your life," Cato drawls.
Your gaze snaps back to his, and for a brief second, your expression is flushed with embarrassment; until it changes to a sour little scowl.
"I'm not a bad liar, you're just an Astartes—" you start furiously, but check your flustered anger.
Cato smirks.
It's not a completely clean victory, but it's good.
It means his own lusting madness is at least reciprocally vindicated.
And at that realisation, Cato's impulse control violently loses balance; and he's painfully aware he cannot, for the life of him, contain the hungered almost purr-like sound that crawls up his throat.
You go back to looking transfixed at that, and he pauses.
There's something... pulling him in even more than before. He feels as if he's taken the bait, and the hook, and the line and sinker—hell, he's taken a good bit of the rod, too. Everything's a little too heated, and he's got an innate, intuitive feeling you're just as wound up as he is—wait. He breathes in deep and slow, and scents the air. Throne, he may as well have been cold-clocked at the temple by a Dreadnaut for all the innate information he suddenly receives. You're quite frankly drenched in want. You're getting off on this. Smothering him in a dizzying biological chant of hormones that scream—fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
He leans close, and puts a hand on the arm-rest; the other palm slowly moving towards your chest.
Your eyes follow it—but you voice no complaints nor rejections.
Justified now, he's ecstatic. And your skin is as perfect to the touch as he remembers.
His hand looks huge compared to the breast cupped in it, idly toying with the consistency of the flesh in his grasp. It's much softer and malleable than he thought it'd be. Almost like a water-skin. Thumb depressing your right nipple, before drawing a thoughtless circle.
You sigh lightly and relax a bit, and Cato takes that as another open invitation.
He uses the same hand to tug away the fabric from your other shoulder.
Quick as anything, he's practically stuffing his face against you without any real warning, ignoring your flinch at his haste. Cato's letting the urges he'd withheld in that wretched shack out. And it's so worth the wait. He groans, licks a fat band over your left breast, and worries at the perked little bud with his teeth until you're squirming; only to drag his attention up to nip at your fragile throat.
You're breathing hard, and you open your mouth as if about to speak—but ever spiteful, Cato rewards your attempt with the drag of his tongue and the press of his teeth; and that promptly shuts you up. The faint salt on your skin isn't half bad of a thing either, honestly. He rather likes it. It tastes like how you smell—and he's absolutely luxuriating in it. It makes it all the easier to map your chest from the curve of your breast to your collarbones, garnishing you with eager drags of his tongue and mouth-wrought bruises.
And now you're glorious. The marks on your skin are vivid—he's guaranteed you won't be wearing anything showy for a good while. No lovely vile plunging necklines for you to display to bastard dignitaries. Not unless you want to explain why they're Cato Sicarius sized. They'll also be a good reminder to you of exactly who's superior.
You're still too dazed by his efforts to realise the extent of his actions, but he knows exactly how hot and bothered it's made you. That honeyed reek of arousal is driving him insane.
Urged on, he digs a hand down and around your back and drags you off the lounge. Manoeuvring to turn so his back rests against the lip of the lounge, nigh dumping you before him on the rug.
"W-Why...?" You blink, stunned for a second before righting yourself and meeting his eyes. Cato's sat himself cross-legged, before letting them unfold, one tenting and the other splaying out.
"I did all the work last time," he starts impatiently, and leans up to grab you by the forearm; bringing your hand close close to the cradle of his hips, "Now it's your turn to do something for once."
...Cato's not sure you're actually listening, because he could've bet his helm you'd've become irate at that statement if you were. That, and you're glaring between his thighs.
Ironically, he also almost instantaneously finds he doesn't really care to continue the train of thought. Not when you trace the engorged bulge of him through the folds of his tunic. Groping at the base, before smoothing your palm to the rounded tip.
There's no accursed buttons between him and the open this time, thankfully—and that means he can simply tug aside the folds of his layered tunic and bare himself from the belly down.
His cock lays fat and heavy with blood, smearing precum as it moves from his navel to leftward on his hip when he straightens up.
You're staring.
He scoffs at your apprehension and says, "Alternatively, perhaps you can—"
A soft, "Shhh," leaves you.
He snorts like a big, angry stock horse, brow raised. No baseline, regardless of rank, would dare treat Cato like this; none would dare even think to treat to him like this. Except you now, apparently. You forget your station, your place. Making demands of an Astartes is nowhere near your clearance. Your best option is to implore, not command. Yours is to nod your pretty thick head and smile your fair rotten little smile and obey your betters.
"Did—did you just shush me, woman?" Cato's nigh instantly consumed by a rush of anger at the sheer audacity, sneering. "In what reality do you think you've any right to shush me? I'm Commander of the Victrix Honor Guard, Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of—"
Of... of something.
Suddenly your insolence is inconsequential to him. All that matters is the smooth glide of your dainty hand on his cock, and the sight of your thumb and pointer being unable to wrap around and meet given how thick he is.
You look up at him slowly for a second, before your focus returns to apparently sussing out how best to saddle him. It's a timid gesture, like you're anticipating overstepping—you're cautious.
He's about to remind you of the fact you've taken him before, so Cato's proven he fits and all this coyness of yours is arbitrary. But he guesses the point is moot when you're suddenly already stradling his hips.
With one small hand finding a place on his stomach, and the other holding his cock straight beneath the obscurity of your garbs, he feels you lower yourself enough to make contact; testing before offering a little more urgency.
With an agonisingly careful roll of your pelvis, the head of his cock catches against the soft ring of muscle at your entrance for a second.
He grumbles despite himself.
He can't watch his cock sink into you like last time thanks to the curtain of your robe, but at least he can certainly feel every millimeter of it happening.
Tight heat feels like a death shroud over his mind as he draws a blank on anything else.
And finally—finally he's stuffed down to the hilt—and oh, he's filled you to your end just like the last time. Throne, he's drunk off the spongy heat the thick head of cock is squared right up against.
This position's made your cunt just that bit shorter inside thanks to gravity.
You whimper, clearly trying desperately not to start shaking.
You start shaking anyways.
He's fascinated by the small, restless palms now pressed flat and trying to find a counterpoint on his broad, tunic'd chest. Soft and un-calloused aside from the small bump of a pen's rest on your writing hand. Everything about you is warm and soft. Inside and out, you're all his.
He exhales harshly through his nose and blinks, gaze shifting from your hands to your tits, then to your face.
You wear an even more flushed expression now, overwhelmed, with all your focus on him.
Right where it always should be.
"Hurry up," he grunts sharply.
You swallow hard, and promptly drop your gaze.
You, surprisingly, manage to lift yourself up despite your theatrics. And, little by little, he watches you strain up until just the tip of him is still buried in you.
Angling yourself, you keen, carefully sinking back down on his cock and reeling at the stretch again as you settle, ass meeting his dense quads with a soft plomf.
He can see you biting back a moan, pointless as the act is.
"Keep going," Cato grits out, "I didn't tell you to stop."
You frown halfheartedly, and your insides clench around him despite yourself.
You start a slow rhythm, the noise of colliding skin on skin echoes in his ears. Slick friction, and fucked-out, half-stifled cries. Your pace quickening. Riding him. Using him at your own leisure, like the precious wretched little thing you are. You repeat the same dizzying motion again and again, and again—rising and sinking—up, down, up, down; until it's clear you've found an angle that hits something just right, sending you over the edge with a rattling gasp.
A low groan crawls up the back of Cato's throat and slips free without restraint.
He's barely able to cope through the tight squeeze of your orgasm around his cock; but he steels himself, winning the fight to not spill in you right then and there at that. No small thanks to the furious couple hours he'd spent earlier in the simulated night cycle furiously attending his urges.
His calloused mitt can hardly compete with the nigh painfully silken clench of you. And the view—Throne, to simply watch is a level of spectacle he can't even put into words. It's nothing short of hypnotic seeing your face soften with fucked-out delight—he can't believe he'd ever thought it was good the first time around when he hadn't even seen you meet your end.
You stop suddenly, seated to the hilt, trembling and oversensitive—grinding back and forth, nails digging into his pectorals through his tunic.
"Just... n-need t'catch my breath..." You whimper, and that debauched tone wreaks havoc through his mind. An unceasing urge to pound you to tears overtaking what little sense he has left. It's the ravenous fact that you, the little parchment-pushing temptress, are all tuckered out from cumming on him so quickly. He's preening at the fact he feels that good to you—oh, he's going to send you limping back to your quarters.
He wants to watch you break.
"You lazy little cunt, you can't do a thing right, can you?" Cato groans, your thighs twitching as he lifts you by the hips and makes you sink back down.
He gets the treat of seeing your eyes swim back in your skull, dumb with sensation.
Lulled by the reedy, oversexed moans slipping from you with each motion; and he can't help but start thrusting up, matching pace.
"Hardly even four and a half minutes—and you're a mess, absolutely useless." He heaves, dropping you to full-hilt for a second to manoeuvre you better. You're nigh but a gasping dead-weight, delirious.
If you're going to act the entitled bitch, he'll screw you into something alike submission. Which is exactly why he's then pulling out, shoving you against the lounge on your back; and moving your thighs to bracket his hips as he half kneels on the rug. Just to slide himself back inside, balls-deep in willing flesh. The only dignity he affords you then is the space to wrap your arms around and behind his shoulders. Which you rightly do without demand.
Hold on, was the unspoken order.
Then he's fucking you into the lounge like his life depends on it. He's glad to notice it's bolted down, but the damned thing creaks—nonetheless, he can barely even hear it over the perfect sounds you're making.
Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, barely holding back the noises that choke his own gullet.
"You're so damn lucky you're a nice tight hole," he rasps harshly, "That's all you're good for, hm? For me to fill?"
There's a gutting sort of beauty in the way you're looking up at him with open desperation. He's trying so hard not to fall victim to the siren call of it, but it's perfect vile and he can't help but fold. He'd kill for that look to never leave your face when your eyes fell on him.
"Fuck, I must be in your womb at this rate—would you like that? My load in your womb?" Cato says between a great lungful of air, only to start huffing madly to himself when you nod drunkenly. "Good, because that's exactly where i-it's going."
Mind reeling with every resounding sticky slap of his balls against you, paired with scorching wet slide of him pumping in and out of you. You're crying, all your sensibilities lost in the thorough pace he's ploughing into you with; trying to pull him in by tugging at his shoulders, but with your meagre strength it's merely a vague suggestion.
Still, he leans into it, if only to finally seize the chance to lap the tears off your cheek, and you sob; trying to turn nose to nose with him. Your pathetic pawing at his broad back only exacerbates the overwhelming urgency in his blood.
He's so close.
Bliss crests up like a tide inside him, building and building, stunned with how it makes him buck into you. He's dazed in a way he surely wasn't designed to be resilient against. He can't even shut his damn mouth to stop moaning—and only technically manages to do so when you cover it with your own the very second he's about to finish; your legs squeezing impotently down on his hips, trembling through another climax.
His nerves light up like an orbital barrage, body rocking against the pretty, willing thing below him that you are. He has no idea what's going on beyond that. Are you kissing him? Is that what you're doing? Half his brain is stunned by the idea and the other half is flooded by the rushes of pleasure in his system making his tendons cramp, ravaging him with the sound of his hearts thudding in his ears.
Working himself right into agony; he's tensing against you as he empties himself as deep as he can. His pace finally breaks pattern and staccatos as his mind leadens.
Lulled by the molten satisfaction that swamps him soon thereafter, Cato blindly tries to chase forward and keep your lips on his. Emphasis on tries. He thinks he likes it, foreign as the sensation and sentiment is. He's got his tongue in your mouth, but no real clue what to do beyond lapping further in like a man dying of thirst—and then, of course, you decide to start weakly thrashing for air, blunt teeth grazing against the invading muscle—so, with a miffed groan; he pulls away, drooling as he slumps front-long against you and the lounge with a rumbling sigh, letting his eyes close as he basks in the afterglow.
You're panting still, nosing against the nape of his neck—likely having difficulty respiring under his weight—but despite that, you're still twitching around his spent cock, just like last time.
Wistfully, he wonders if he could sleep with you stuffed full of him like this. Slotted together and absolutely buried in your cunt; reaming you out as far as your small frame will allow. He enjoys the idea of that, and of holding you close.
He listens meditatively as your breathing steadily evens out, a soft in-out rhythm he can hear start in your chest only to feel warmly dancing across his collarbone a moment later.
Your small hand glides up the back of his trapezoid and combs through the short hair at his crown.
He shivers almost immediately at the act, thoughts clouding. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, now. He can't really bring himself to do anything. He's locked in. It's like he's been sedated, or scruffed about the neck. Then your fingers trace the bare skin behind his ear, and he snaps from the trance enough to crack an eye open to glance down.
"Don't push your luck," he bites out automatically and leers away.
You immediately stiffen, and lurch yourself back—seemingly completely confused.
He's not exactly sure why he reacted that way either, but he's certainly not going to address it.
Ultimately, he opts to pull his cock out of you with scant decorum rather than linger on the topic. Then he settles into a kneel as he eyes the soaked-in stain below the bunched-up fabric of your robe.
"Well," he snorts.
And damn, it's difficult to hold a straight face at the overdramatic, painfully oblivious pout you shoot him.
So, Cato just continues watching you with a cruel sort of satisfaction as you sit yourself up shakily, and realise the mess.
You blanch, promptly shutting your legs and fussing—your ass is half stuck to the fabric of the lounge by your own slick and his spent when you move to stand on shaky, unsure legs.
He's aware of the fact you're after something to wipe away the aftermath. But he's far too content observing you struggle for the moment. Pleased, even. Especially when he's treated to the cringing gasp that slips from you when his semen no doubt starts dripping down your thighs.
You're panicking within seconds. He can hear your heartbeat quickening, plus the acrid tang of baseline stress hormones pervading the room.
There's nothing to spare. Unless you want to leave another smear across the lounge cushioning, but he doubts you'd go so low. He, however, has no such reservations—and yanks the plush velour padded square up to wipe his cock off. It's not as if he wasn't going to toss it down one of the incinerator shafts on the library's second floor anyways.
"Do—" you begin softly, but amend yourself, "Would y-you have anything... to..."
He stares at you, brows furrowed.
Floundering now, you waddle close and swallow harshly.
"To... wipe this up?" You finish, barely a whisper. He can tell you're sour at the fact you're stroking his ego and essentially too full of him to go anywhere.
Cato scoffs, holding up the seating cushion, "What? Too spoilt to use this?"
You cringe at him, "People have sat on that—hundreds of people, probably. I-I don't have your immunity to infection."
Cato cedes on that point at least, because he assumes being a baseline is hell. And so very not his problem, too.
Completely out of left field, comes the temptation to lick you clean. His mulish hind-brain reasons it's a brilliant idea, namely because you'd likely be squirming for him again. Even if he has no real idea of what to do beyond that. Lap at your clit, probably—he's not actually done any of this before except—well, except just slamming into you. He has the basic gist of all of this from biologis graphics and pornographic motionpicts. Yes, the latter are technically contraband on Ultramarine chapter vessels—Throne, he actually remembers when that was put into force. He was still green behind the ears when that'd happened. But those specific brothers had displayed it for abstract amusement, not... it's intended purpose—rather: 'Lo, look at this curiosity, brothers! See they're fornicating, how very so strange! Baselines am-i-right?'
Honestly, it's never actually anything heretical, except for maybe the terrible acting.
He'd deem that punishable by death.
Regardless, Cato's guessing the process of licking something can't really be some sage art form. Not like duelling, and fuck, he's stellar at that. He's stellar at almost everything, he reasons. So why not that? You're such a wanton little thing he'd probably make you finish on accident.
Yet he decides against it as soon as the logical part of his brain boots back up. Largely given the fact he's probably already going to have a hard time as it is trying to avoid others on his way to mask the stink of sex. His brothers have keen noses, it wouldn't be difficult for them to notice the smell of you on his way to his chamber if he's not careful. Let alone if it's smeared all over his face. Next time, however—
"Surely it's not that bad," he says off-handedly.
A surge of shame appears on your face as a red, blotchy belt across your cheeks, and you seem about to protest before he grumbles.
"Still, you really ought to find a solution," he remarks idly, and he notices the implication isn't lost on you.
You frown softly, and wrinkle your nose at him.
"Maybe some manners would help you achieve your goals," he adds, with a clearer spite.
Your frown grows nigh comically harsh.
Cato grunts wryly, satisfied at your annoyance and paws at the hem of his tunic—tearing a portion off and holding it out to you.
You grab the edge of it and tug, but he doesn't let go.
"And what do you say?"
"Thanks," you answer hastily.
He raises an eyebrow and pulls the torn fabric back towards himself ever so slightly, causing you to over extend closer to him.
His stare stays locked on yours, and he gets the treat of watching you dither and fluster under his focus momentarily before you amend, "T-Thank you..." you swallow, and break eye contact, adding; "Commander Sicarius."
"Was that so hard?" Cato scoffs, especially thrilled as he lets go of the scrap—eyeing you as you trot aside, and gingerly begin to wipe away the mess of satisfaction coating your thighs and rear.
When you're decidedly done, you stomp back over to him and hold out the soiled fabric.
He reaches for it, only to have it promptly pulled away.
Cato scowls, and takes a step forward into your space—only for you to inch forward into his.
You're tormenting him then, he decides; or rather he thinks. He's not sure. You don't look smug—you look... nervous? Your lips have drawn into a thin line and you keep glancing between his eyes and behind him randomly.
"What?" He huffs, narrowing his eyes.
"Lean down," you mumble, then quietly make the additional effort of throwing in a "...please."
Cato grumbles at the request but complies, and Throne, he's glad he does; because suddenly you're up on your tip-toes, your hand on his jaw—and your lips are on his cheek.
He blinks, dumb as a mule. It's over as fast as it started and he can't even begin to unpack the elation he's abruptly feeling.
Heedless of his dazzled state, you clear your throat with a bashful laugh—and then the rag is suddenly stuffed into his open hand. He's still frozen there as you practically rush out the room, scooping your previously flung data-slate up as you frantically wave the door mechanism open and vanish from view.
A long wheeze escapes his throat in the empty room, his face thudding with heat.
Oh, he's fucked fucked.
197 notes · View notes