#when actually I’m always just trying to have fun in fandom.

[blamemma]

dead ass none of you have any back bones. if you’ve got shit to say, send it to me. not some other gossip blog. not on anon to my friends. it’s pathetic. y’all make this place real fucking miserable sometimes.

[geminiwritten]

photos ; tyler owens

fandom: twisters

pairing: tyler x reader

summary: you’re in a perpetually bad mood because you're in love with tyler and he's clueless, but what happens when you 'accidentally' send him some scandalous photos?

notes: two in one week?! that's crazy! but also i decided to write for someone other than bradley bradshaw (tg:m) because my love for him is all consuming... it still is, but i really hope y'all enjoy this little fic! it was so fun to write, and please, give me all the feedback!

warnings: swearing, very horny without being smut but STILL ONLY 18+ PLEASE, drinking, taking and sending of naughty pictures, use of tinder, text / message screenshots, italics, references to the movie 13 Going on 30, some pet names (e.g. babygirl, baby, darlin'), use of the word 'bimbo' but it is regretted, and this is actually pretty wordy but it kind of had to be?

word count: 7251

Lily flops into the lawn chair beside yours. Her dreadlocks are half up and she isn’t wearing the same clothes that you’d seen her in half an hour ago. She must have just showered.

She offers you the packet of gummy bears in her hand as she settles back into the chair. “So, who are we trying to set on fire?”

You turn to face her, dragging your eyes away from said person you’re metaphorically trying to set on fire. “Who do you think?”

She giggles, the packet in her hand rustling as you take a handful of gummy bears. “He’s so clueless.”

“He’s so stupid,” you mutter, before shoving the candy into your mouth.

Tyler Owens, famous Tornado Wrangler and your best friend since you transferred to his high school in sophomore year. You’re not sure why he took a liking to you when you showed up on your first day with untied laces and a torn backpack. You’d been running late and got your backpack caught on a particularly spikey tree branch as you bolted from your parents’ car toward the school’s front steps. You’ve always assumed he felt bad for you, so he offered you his friendship. But to this day, he maintains that wasn’t the case, despite not giving you any other explanation as to why he would have wanted to befriend the weird new kid.

“I wonder what it’s like to have everyone fall all over you all the time,” Lily says, her eyes watching Tyler with curiosity as opposed to your scorching attempt to telepathically light his hat on fire. Or maybe just the leg of his pants. Nothing too crazy, you don’t want him to get hurt. You just want him to stop talking to that gorgeous woman.

You blow a long, tired breath out through your nose. “I wonder what it’s like go after what you want.”

“Sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you.” Boone appears from behind you, stepping in front of your lawn chair and blocking your view of Tyler. “I’m right here. If you want me, take me.”

You roll your eyes, a small smirk ghosting over your lips. “Oh, Boone. You see right through me. I want you. I need you. Take me right here in this chair.”

Lily giggles at your sarcasm while Boone blinks slowly, trying to process what he just heard. When a full-blown grin splits across your face and laughter bubbles from your lips, he sighs. “You’re such a tease, woman. Don’t play with my heart like that.”

Before you can respond, Tyler steps up beside Boone and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Boone, you sweet idiot, you can’t tell a siren not to sing.”

Your smile is quickly replaced by a scowl. “Siren?”

Tyler nods, turning the full force of his gorgeous grin on you. “Yeah. The beautiful kind with the sweet voices that lure sailors-”

“To their death.” You push to stand and cross your arms. “They’re also not beautiful, they’re half bird. And they eat the sailors. So, you know what? Sounds like they've got men figured out.”

You turn and stomp up the stairs to the second floor of the motel you’re currently staying at. You know you seem a little childish, but you can’t help it. How many years are you going to have to watch Tyler with those fucking buckle bunnies before you break? Granted, there aren’t so many actual buckle bunnies since he quit bull riding, but they’re all the same to you. Drop dead gorgeous women hanging on for a piece of the man you’ve been in love with since junior year.

After a hot shower and a couple of overpriced minibar drinks – three little bottles of various alcohols – you fall onto the motel bed. This place is nicer than most of the other establishments you've stayed at, and the deadbolts on the door are giving you a sense of security you rarely have. Half the time you end up in Tyler’s room because you don’t feel safe behind the flimsy doors of dodgy motels, but you’ve resisted the past few weeks.

You’re just about at your breaking point where Tyler Owens is concerned, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this best friend bullshit.

Your phone dings and draws your attention away from the Friday night movie playing on the small TV screen. You know who it is before you even see the notifications.

Your thumbs hover over your phone screen, poised to type but paralysed because you can’t decide what to say. Tyler is too nice and too fucking oblivious. You’re still too irritated to be nice back to him, so you sigh and smack your phone face down on the bedside table. You grab the remote and turn the volume of the TV down before curling on your side to watch the movie.

As the movie draws to an end and your heavy eyelids start to droop, a cold wave of realisation washes over you. The credits start to roll and you sit up straight, suddenly wide awake. Your eyes dart toward your phone, still sitting on the bedside table, and the bud of an idea begins to bloom at the forefront of your brain.

You tip your head and wonder aloud, “Is that a stupid idea?”

Mark Ruffalo was in love with his best friend – Jennifer Garner – but she didn’t see him that way until it was too late. Maybe you need to force Tyler’s hand? Make him see you that way. You’ve known each other since you were both awkward, hormonally challenged teenagers. You can’t really blame him for not seeing past your horrendous struggle with puberty.

You jump off the bed and strip out of your shirt and sweats, only briefly acknowledging the fact that the shirt actually belongs to Tyler. You open your duffel bag and dig right down to the bottom to retrieve the one set of nice lingerie that you own. You’re not sure you’ve ever actually worn it out, you’ve only ever used it for the exact thing that you’re about to do now.

After changing into the pretty lace set and double-checking the curtains are drawn, you grab your phone and stand in front of the full-length mirror fixed to the motel room’s wall. You’re no Victoria’s Secret model, but you do know how to pose to make yourself look fucking good.

You twist and move in front of the mirror, taking pictures and analysing them before taking some more. You move the lamp and switch the ceiling lights on and off for different shadows and effects on your body. You take off half the set and try the front facing camera for some more risqué poses and teasing photos. By the time you finally decide you should go to bed, you’re actually sweating.

You prop your phone face up on the small bathroom vanity as you brush your teeth and swipe through the photos. You giggle softly to yourself, wondering where you possibly picked up the audacity to think that sending Tyler some sexy photos was a good idea. Looking at them now, your stomach curls anxiously at the idea of sending these images to your best friend – you blame the minibar. Yeah, they’re fucking hot photos, but it’s also an incredibly risky thing to do. There’s a good chance he’s already thought of you in that way and just decided that he’s not interested. What if he saw the pictures and was actually disgusted? It would ruin your friendship and the whole crew's dynamic. You’d have to pack your shit and leave.

Your second thoughts and anxiety still don’t stop you from favouriting the best photos as you crawl back into bed. You can still use those pictures if you ever decide to get over Tyler by getting under someone else. You put your phone on charge and snuggle into a nest of pillows, letting your heavy eyelids fall shut. Maybe tomorrow night you can get drunk and flirt with someone hot and available, and then you can show them your sexy photos.

The next day starts like any other. Dexter and Dani use the motel’s communal barbecue to cook a greasy breakfast while Tyler gets coffees for everyone, and then it’s time to work. There isn’t a lot of promise in today’s blue sky, so you spend half the day at the motel before going for a five-minute drive to the nearest diner for lunch. You insist on riding in the RV instead of Tyler’s truck, but you regret it immediately after seeing his confused hurt-puppy face.

“So, where are we going out tonight?” Boone asks before popping a fry into his mouth.

Tyler shrugs, his green eyes darting up from his burger to look at you across the table. “Any bar around here that looks good.”

“There’s a decent place just around the corner from the motel,” Dexter says. “I’ve been there once before, I think. A year or two ago.”

“There’ll be a tonne of chasers there tonight,” Dani pipes up. “Truckloads of ‘em were pulling into the motel all day, and after such an uneventful Saturday, they’ll be wanting to blow off some steam.”

Tyler nods once. “Good. I need to blow off some steam too.”

You keep your head tipped downward so no one can see you roll your eyes. Yeah, you’re still a little mad at him even though he has no idea why. You know it’s stupid, but you can’t help it. Every time you see his ridiculously gorgeous face, your anger flares. Or is that just pent-up horniness? Maybe if you get laid, you might stop being so mad all the time.

Boone chuckles and nudges Tyler’s side. “Need a blow, do ya, T?”

Warmth flushes across your chest and creeps up your neck. Images of Tyler standing over you flash through your mind, his jeans down around his ankles and his thick length hitting the back of your throat.

Tyler chuckles, but it’s a little wooden. Strained. “You have no idea.”

“Gross,” Lily states, before pretending to gag.

Boone grins. “We’ll find you a lady tonight. Don’t worry.”

Dexter scoffs. “Like he needs help with the ladies.”

You swallow down the green-eyed monster trying to claw up your throat and finally look up from your plate of fries. “Is everyone done? Can we go back now?”

Although you avoid looking at him, Tyler is watching you curiously. His brows are pinched and his lips turned down ever-so-slightly. He knows you, and he definitely knows something is up. If you don’t fix your attitude soon, you’re going to have to explain a lot more than you’d like.

“I was actually going to go to the pharmacy in town,” Dexter says. “I need to pick up a few things.”

“Me too,” Dani adds.

Lily raises one hand in the air. “I’ll tag along too, if that’s okay.”

Tyler pulls his keys out of his back pocket and hands them to Boone. “Then Boone can drive the truck into town and I’ll take the RV.”

You frown. “And me?”

Tyler grins. That breath-taking, panty-melting type of grin. “With me. You said you wanted to go back.”

You roll your lips and nod slowly. Yep, you just played right into his hand.

The group stack their empty plates and gather their things before shuffling out of the diner. You’re the first out the door, dropping your sunglasses from the top of your head to your nose and gazing up at the blue sky. The buttery sun soothes your skin, and you suddenly realise that you can’t remember the last time you went to the beach. You might need to take a break from chasing soon. Who knows, maybe Tyler will kick you off the crew because of your childish attitude. Then you can go to the beach and enjoy sunny weather for once.

“Ready?” The man himself appears beside you, tossing the keys into the air before catching them again.

You don’t reply, you just nod and start walking toward the RV. The others call their goodbyes across the small, gravel parking lot, and you give them a lazy wave as you pull yourself up into the passenger’s seat of the RV’s cabin.

“You wanna drive?” Tyler asks, his southern drawl in full force as he stands in the open door of the driver’s side.

You’re already in the passenger seat, pulling your seatbelt across your body. “You know I hate driving this thing, Ty.”

He chuckles and hoists himself up before pulling the door shut and jamming the keys into the ignition. He takes a moment to adjust all the peripherals before turning the key and easing the big vehicle through the parking lot.

“So,” he says as he turns out of the lot and onto the road. “Want to talk about it?”

You keep your gaze fixed out the windscreen. “Talk about what?”

“Your mood.”

You keep your voice light as you reply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He rolls his eyes and presses harder on the gas, urging the RV to pick up speed toward your motel. The drive isn’t long, you just have to keep your attitude under control for four more minutes.

“Look,” he starts again, his hands gripping the wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “I’m not going to pretend that I know what’s wrong. All I do know is that something is wrong and has been for a while. You know I like giving you your space. We’re all so on top of each other when we’re out on the road, it’s important to remember that we all need a break sometimes. But whenever you want to talk, I’m here. You know that. I’m always here.”

You can’t help it. Your lips move before you can even think about the words that they’re saying. “Except when you’ve got a better offer.”

His head snaps toward you. “What was that?”

Heat blooms in your cheeks and your heart races anxiously as you see the turn for the motel up ahead. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is this all because of me?” His head swivels as he tries to read your face while also watching the road. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” you lie. “It’s not always about you.” Fuck. You’re on a roll today.

Thick silence fills the air of the cabin, and you can’t let yourself look at Tyler because you know you just hurt him. He’s not a bad guy. In fact, he’s one of the best guys you know. But he’s oblivious to the way you feel, has been for years, and you can’t help it if your frustration is manifesting in an ugly way.

The RV rocks as it climbs the driveway into the motel. He parks in the same spot as before and you practically fall out the door the second the vehicle is stopped. You don’t look back as you climb the stairs toward your motel room. You slam the door and flop onto the bed, too frustrated to cry and too full of self-pity to think about apologising to Tyler.

You spend the rest of the day in your room. At six o’clock you get a message from Lily asking if you’re still coming out with them, to which you reply with a thumbs up. You’re not mad at Lily, but she at least knows why you’re in a foul mood. However misdirected your anger might be.

You shower and change into that lacey lingerie set from the photos, deciding that tonight it’s going to get its debut outing. You slide into a pair of jeans and your nicest top before adding a touch of makeup to your face and walking out the door. When you’re on the road, you don’t really have a whole lot of nice clothes for going out, but you do feel a little pleased when you see your pretty reflection in the motel windows on your way along the balcony.

“Why don’t you wear those jeans more often?” Boone asks from the bottom of the stairs as you descend.

“Because then you’d be too distracted all the time.”

He grins and offers you his hand for the last few steps. “I’m always distracted by your beauty.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “God, Boone. You’re such a flirt.”

He chuckles and guides you to the bottom of the stairs before letting go of your hand and walking off toward where Dexter is packing up some of the equipment he’d been tinkering with this afternoon. Eventually, everyone meets in the parking lot and the group decide to walk, because the bar is only around the corner.

It’s already pretty busy by the time you get there, but you manage to find a tall bar table that seats all of you while Tyler goes off to get the first round of drinks. Your friends quickly dive into a discussion about what the next week could bring and where you plan to go from here, but your eyes are glued to Tyler.

He’s leaning forward against the bar, a huge grin split across his face as a very gorgeous bartender takes his order. She has a smirk on her lips that says she gets what she wants, and by the way she’s looking at Tyler, you don’t have to guess that he is what she wants tonight.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll to the last page of apps you’ve ignored for almost a year now. Dating apps. You’re not a fan of them, but if anything, they’ve helped you get laid. You open one and enter your log in details before adjusting your location and starting to quickly swipe through a few profiles. You know it’s dumb, and you’re feeling more along the lines of pathetic than horny right now, but you need something to think about that isn’t Tyler fucking Owens.

“Turns out I’ve been here before,” Tyler says as he drops the tray of drinks onto the table. “The bartender said she remembers me.”

Of course she does.

Boone wags his eyebrows suggestively. “The hot bartender?”

Tyler chuckles, but he doesn’t turn to ogle at the bar like the rest of the group. “I guess she could be considered attractive.”

“You guess?” Dani slams her drink back down on the table. “Come on, T. Your standards can’t be that high.”

He shrugs one shoulder and takes a long draw from his beer. “What can I say?”

Before you have the chance to roll your eyes, your phone vibrates in your hand. You lean back and unlock the screen, angling it so that neither Lily nor Boone can see from either side of you. Two messages from a guy name Owen. Of course. It couldn’t be a Jack or a Sam. No, the universe just loves making fun of you too much.

Well, that was easy.

You slide your phone into your back pocket before picking up your drink and draining half of it. You can feel Tyler’s eyes on you, but you ignore him. You keep your gaze fixed on Dexter as he tells an animated story about the last time he was at this bar.

The next time you pull your phone out, you have a few more messages from Owen. He tells you that he’s working late at the local liquor store but can meet up later, which you happily agree to – it seems stupid to pretend that you’re in this for anything other than sex. He then asks for your number, because the store he works at has shitty reception, so you give it to him and wait for his first text to set him up as a new contact. Who knows, maybe the next time you’re in town you could hit him up.

The night wears on and you continue sinking drinks to keep yourself happily buzzed. There are more chasers here just as Dani had predicted, and your group ends up scattered throughout the bar catching up with old friends. You manage to avoid Tyler for most of the night, but it isn’t easy. He watches you like a hawk, analysing every little move you make and practically breathing down your neck every time you slide your phone out of your pocket.

You tap Lily on the shoulder. “I’m going to the bathroom and then getting another drink. You want?”

She shakes her head and waves a hand. “I’m good, thanks.”

You nod once and turn toward where you think the toilets might be. You pass Dexter, who is chatting with a group of chasers you don’t recognise, and then Dani and Boone, who are giving a dramatic retelling of the last close call you all had.

You find the bathrooms and slip inside. You lock yourself in the first stall, shimmy your jeans down, and sit. Then you pull your phone out to reply to Owen. He’s polite, not too creepy, and seems to have no issue being honest. He’s telling you that he’s excited to meet up, because it’s been a long week and he really needs to get laid. You find yourself smiling at your phone as you reply, telling him that you’re feeling the exact same way.

As you wash your hands and gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you start to realise that maybe you’re a little more buzzed than you thought. Not that it’s a problem, because a little liquid courage always helps you out when it comes to one-night-stands, but you might need to start watching what you say. Alcohol can be a very dangerous catalyst for honesty.

When you step out of the bathroom, it feels even more crowded than before. You almost have to shoulder your way to the bar. Once you find a spot, you lean your forearms against the wood and squint to see what draughts they have on tap.

The gorgeous bartender that served Tyler earlier steps toward you. “Hey hon, what can I get ya?”

You try to wear a polite smile as you tell her your drink, but you can’t help feeling that it just looks twisted. She nods and starts pouring. You fish into your jeans’ pockets for cash before dropping it on the bar as she hands you your fresh schooner. The first sip is crisp and delicious, but quickly ruined by what you see across the room.

Nestled in the corner by the front of the bar is Tyler and some blonde bombshell who looks like she just walked out of a rodeo-themed photoshoot for Victoria’s Secret. They’re leaning on one of the tall tables, practically toe to toe, and she’s licking her lips as she watches him tell whatever stupid story he’s telling.

You storm back over to Lily with a scowl, but she’s too invested in her conversation to notice your renewed foul mood. You sit up on the barstool and take another generous sip of beer, letting the bubbly drink cool you from the inside out. Tyler is a grown-ass man. He can do what he wants, make his own decisions, and fuck whatever he pleases. You need to get over it.

After a couple of deep breaths, you’re feeling more sad than angry. But that won’t do either. You need to feel something positive, even if it is only fleeting. So you pull your phone out, lean away from the group of people chatting with Lily, and pull up your photos. Yep, those photos.

Your heart thuds heavily in your chest, your pulse ringing in your ears. This shouldn’t be so nerve-wracking, but it’s been so long since you’ve done something like this. It’s been so long since the last time you tried to get over Tyler Owens.

You choose three of your favourite photos. One is in the mirror, simple and saucy, showcasing the full ensemble. The second one is of you kneeling in front of the mirror, closer than the last and angled so that every curve looks a little extra enticing. The third photo is with the front-facing camera, the phone angled down to get your body instead of your face. You’ve taken off the top part of the set and you’re barely covering your nipples with one arm.

You’re not a vain or particularly conceited person, but you know these photos are good.

You squint and focus on your phone as you select the three photos and tap the ‘share’ symbol in the corner of your dim screen. It’s a little fuzzy through your beer goggles, but you don’t want to turn the brightness up right now, so you persevere. The share options fill the bottom half of the screen, and you carefully tap on the text messages app logo. A ‘New Message’ pops up, the little cursor blinking on the ‘To:’ line. You type carefully, O-W-E-N, and pick the contact that pops up. Then you hit that little send button.

The next few seconds pass in slow motion.

You look up from your phone and your eyes find Tyler across the bar. He’s smiling at the blonde, but then something else summons his attention. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and lifts it up to his face. His grin vanishes and his cheeks flush bright red at the same time that your stomach plummets. It falls so fast and so hard, you’re almost sure it’s fallen right out of your ass.

Your eyes go wide, and you can feel your heart beating in your throat as it tries to crawl up. Or is that all the beer you’ve drank tonight? You feel sick. You need to get out of here. Fuck. You need to unsend that fucking text.

“Are you okay?” Lily’s voice is distant even though she’s right in front of you, a hand on your shoulder.

“I, uh-” You slip off the barstool. “Gotta go. Feel sick.”

One glance across the bar has your stomach doing another gymnastics routine, flipping and spinning wildly, trying to expel every drop of alcohol you’ve consumed in the past few hours. Tyler isn’t with the blonde anymore, he’s weaving his way through the throngs of people toward you.

Luckily, you’re closer to the door than he is. You squeeze through a group of chasers who you kind of recognise, but you don’t give yourself time to get a proper look. You duck out the door and start walking down the street. You don’t want to run, you’re not sure your wobbly legs can manage it right now, and you don’t want to draw attention.

The motel is just around the corner. If you get there in time, you can lock yourself in your room before Tyler catches you. Then you can pack your shit and run. Like really run. Because fuck, there is no coming back from this.

You hear your name called out behind you, but you easily recognise his voice, so you don’t turn around. You keep walking, your footsteps heavy and your breath coming and going in ragged gasps. You open your phone as you round the corner, bringing up your text thread with Tyler that makes your head spin. You sent him those photos. Fuck. He must think you’re insane.

Your eyes narrow on the contact name ‘Owens’ with a little tornado emoji beside it. The universe is definitely laughing at you right now. You hold down on the photo message and look for the ‘unsend’ button. But there isn’t one. There’s a ‘delete’ button, but you know that will only delete it from your side of the chat. He’s got these photos now. There’s no going back.

He calls your name again as you turn into the motel. It’s not far now, you might actually make it.

You book it across the parking lot and start up the stairs to the second-floor rooms. Your fingers fumble for the key in your pocket as you approach your door. Your pulse is hammering in your ears. You don’t dare to look back because you know he’s close. You can feel it.

The key slides into the lock and you practically fall into the room. You spin on your heel and try to slam the door shut. It gets most of the way until a booted foot slides across the threshold. The door stills, five inches of light from the outside slicing through the dark motel room. All you can hear is your heavy breathing and the panting from the man holding the door ajar.

You close your eyes and steel your nerves. Maybe it’s time you quit chasing.

You take a deep breath and open the door again. “Yes, Tyler?”

He looks downright feral. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wild, his hair is mussed, and you’re pretty sure his hands are vibrating in fists by his sides.

“What”– his voice is so deep, it’s almost a growl –“the fuck was that?”

You tip your head, feigning innocent curiosity. “Was what?”

His eyes darken and he licks his lips. Like a predator sizing up its prey. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“But I thought that was your favourite game.” You take a step back from the door. “Isn’t that why you’re always hanging out with those buckle bunny bimbos?”

You feel sick as the words leave your lips. You hate being a bitch and you hate that being frustrated and upset makes you one, but you can’t help it. If Tyler is going to have a go at you for accidentally sending him some photos, then you’re going to have a go back. Sure, your oldest and most important childhood friendship is about to blow up. But tit for tat is still important, right?

His eyes narrow and he pushes the door all the way open to step inside. “What are you talking about?”

You decide, for the first time tonight, to think before you speak. So you take your time. You turn and walk toward the bed before flopping down at the foot of it and bending over to unlace your boots.

“It was an accident.” You get one shoe off. “I didn’t mean to send those photos to you.” You get the other shoe off. “So, I’m sorry if your blonde friend saw them and freaked out. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

He pushes the door to swing shut behind his towering frame. “Ruin my night?”

You stand up, because he’s too intimidating right now for you to be sitting down.

“Wait.” His brows pinch and he glances at the floor before looking back at you with something fiery behind his eyes. “You accidentally sent them to me?”

You nod.

“Who the fuck were you trying to send them to?”

The venom in his voice startles you, and you rear back a little. “How is that any of your business?”

He steps closer. “It isn’t, but you’re going to tell me.”

You scoff. “Is that so?”

He takes a deep, rattly breath. You can see the muscles in his jaw ticking under the pressure of how hard he’s clenching. He’s so close that you can smell him. That intoxicating mix of fresh earth and cedarwood. He smells exactly like the dense air before a storm.

You startle again when he grips your chin, forcing you to stay still as he leans in even closer. “Babygirl,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning over your skin. “You cannot send me photos like that and then tell me they were meant for another man.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes bouncing between his. They’re hardly green anymore, they’re black. His pupils are so blown, you can only just see a thin ring of colour around them.

“You think you’ve ruined my night?” he asks.

You try to nod, but his grip on your chin doesn’t let you.

“I’m gonna need you to use your words, darlin’.”

His southern drawl sends a shock of electricity right to your core. You can feel the ache building behind your hipbones, pulsing and growing and making you squeeze your thighs together.

“Yes.”

He chuckles, but it’s deep and dark and full of something other than amusement. “The only thing you’ve ruined is my fucking patience.”

You don’t know what to say. Your brain might as well be melting out of your ears as you stare at the hungry face of the man you’ve loved for God knows how long. All you can do is blink at him, wondering when you’ll wake up from this dream.

“Who were you trying to send them to?” he asks again.

“Owen,” you reply, voice barely above a whisper.

He raises his brows. “Who the fuck is Owen?”

“Tinder.”

He lets go of your chin and rises back to his full height. “You were on fucking Tinder?”

Without his face so close and his paralysing touch, you feel a little more in control of yourself. You let your anger simmer and soak through your body, reminding yourself why you took those photos in the first place.

“Why do you care if I’m on Tinder?” you snap. “And why the fuck do you care who I send those photos to?”

“I care because no man on this planet deserves to see those fucking photos,” he growls. “No one is good enough to see you like that.”

You cross your arms and scowl up at him. “That doesn’t even make any sense, Tyler. What the fuck do you want from me? Do you want me to join a nunnery?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you’re not done.

“You can’t just blow up at me about a couple of stupid photos and because I’m on Tinder. Who gives a fuck? I’m an adult woman who can fuck whoever she wants, and you’re a grown-ass man who doesn’t get a fucking say in it! Why don’t you just go back to screwing every woman in Oklahoma and leave me and my personal life alone?”

You’ve never seen Tyler this angry. He looks like one of those huffing bulls he used to ride. His chest is heaving, his knuckles are white, and his expression is angrier than any storm cloud you’ve ever seen – which is saying something.

“Is that really what you think of me?” His voice is surprisingly calm compared to his demeanour.

You nod once, keeping your expression as flat as possible.

He cocks his head, his eyes challenging. “Really? After all the years we’ve known each other, you think that I’m just some man-whore who’s making his way through the state?”

You don’t reply. What the fuck are you supposed to say to that? Of course you don’t think of him as a man-whore, but you can’t exactly tell him what you do think of him. You’re not even sure why you’re fighting right now. Shouldn’t you just be embarrassed and apologising? Wasn’t the original plan to pack your shit and get out of here? You should be packing a bag and high tailing it out of this stupid little town.

“When did you take those photos?” he asks suddenly, looking past you.

You glance over your shoulder to follow his gaze, finding the incriminating mirror. You sigh. “Last night.”

“Who did you take them for last night?” His voice is strained, as if he doesn’t really want to ask the question but he has to know.

You look back at him, studying his furious expression and fiery eyes. You’ve never seen Tyler so worked up. He looks like he’s in the boxing ring waiting for another blow, waiting for you to punch him again so he can unleash another torrent of misplaced rage.

Maybe it’s time to surprise him. Hit him where he’s least expecting it.

“You.”

His scowl vanishes and his eyes grow wide. His mouth pops open, like he’s going to reply but there’s no connection between his brain and his voice box. He’s paralysed.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, watching him anxiously. His eyes are scanning your features, looking for something – maybe he’s hoping your joking? He opens his mouth a couple of times, but he still can’t find any words. You let out a soft sigh and decide that you’re already knee deep, you might as well dive in.

“It’s stupid, but yeah, I took them with the intention of sending them to you.” You let your eyes trace the collar of his flannel shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “Then I realised it was a dumb idea, and I didn’t. But then I was messaging this guy tonight and when I went to send them to Owen, I hit your contact name… Owensss.” You emphasise the ‘s’ and swirl your finger, as if mimicking a little tornado.

When you finally look back up at his face, he doesn’t look disgusted or offended. He looks confused.

“Why were you going to send them to me?”

You groan and drop back onto the bed, hiding your face in your hands. “Really, Ty? Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?”

You split your hands and peak up at him, but his expression hasn’t changed.

“Fine.” You huff and stand up again, ignoring the way it makes your head spin. “Tyler fucking Owens, I’m in love with you. I have been since junior year of high school when you asked me to prom instead of any of those other girls who were falling all over you. I’ve been in love with you through every stupid boyfriend I’ve had and every dumb life decision you’ve made, and I was so sick of seeing you with other women that I thought sending you some embarrassing fucking photos would make you change your mind. But I know now that if you felt any special way about me, you would’ve told me by now. So please, just let me pack my shit and get out of here.”

“Get out of here?” he echoes. “Baby, the only place you’re getting is in my fucking bed.”

Before you can even process his words, he swoops forward and crashes his lips against yours. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, steadying yourself as he kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. Your head spins and your knees wobble, but his arms wrap around your waist to hold you up.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, giving and taking as he pleases and making you moan against his mouth. His stubble scratches your chin and your cheeks, and your mind immediately imagines it rasping against your inner thighs. You want to squeeze your legs together, but he shoves his thigh between then, bending his knee so that you’re practically riding his leg as his lips assault yours.

You can’t stop yourself from grinding down, desperate for any kind of friction to ease the ache between your legs. When your lips part in a whimper, Tyler’s tongue slips past them, and he tips your head back. His mouth devours every little moan and sigh as you continue to ride his thigh. His hands grip your hips, hard enough to bruise, and they guide you up and down. You can feel his belt buckle digging into your lower belly, and you can feel his hard length beside it.

“Ty,” you whisper, your lungs aching for air. “Please.”

“Please what, darlin’?”

You almost whine as he drags you slowly up his thigh. “Fuck me.”

He chuckles, his breath hitting your damp and puffy lips. He stops forcing you to move and relaxes his leg, setting you back on your own unsteady feet. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod, suddenly feeling shy with him looking at you so intensely after that.

“Okay, but I’ve got a few ground rules.”

Your chest deflates as you let out a long breath. Here it goes. He’s going to tell you that this is a one-time thing, that it can’t be weird in the morning, and that you can’t tell anyone else about it. You feel a little stupid for believing that he would kiss you for any other reason than the fact that he’s horny. You ruined his shot with that blonde bombshell and then sent him those photos, of course he’s horny. It doesn’t matter that you just laid yourself fucking bare. He probably wasn’t even listening to all that. You told him you’re in love with him and he told you to get into his bed. He either didn’t hear you or doesn’t give a shit.

“Hey.” He grips your chin again and forces you to look up at him, at those smouldering eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

You blink twice, unsure what to say.

“Rule number one-”

“Ty-”

He kisses you again, but it’s only quick. “No, let me finish. You had that whole speech before, so it’s my turn.”

You can’t nod because he’s still holding your chin, so you roll lips and wait.

“Good.” He lets go of your chin and puts a hand on each of your shoulders. “Rule number one is that no other person can ever see those fucking photos, you got it?”

You nod, and then he pushes you gently so that you’re sitting on the bed.

“Rule number two, you’re going to send me every single one of those photos that you took.”

Your brows pinch together, and he wedges a leg between your knees to push them apart.

“Rule number three, you’re mine now. Only mine.” He steps in between your legs and cups your head in both hands. “No more Tinder, no more bullshit. I’m the only one that gets to look at you and touch you, and I’m sure and shit the only one who gets to love you. You got that?”

Your mouth parts and he runs his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. “You love me?”

He grins. That breath-taking, panty-melting type of grin. “Since the first day you ran into class late. Your hair was all windswept and your cheeks were all red. You looked like you’d just fallen from fucking heaven.”

You can’t help the very unladylike snort of laughter that comes out of you. “Tyler, that is the lamest thing you’ve ever said.”

“But it worked. You’re smiling for the first time in who knows how long.”

He leans down and presses his lips against yours again, but this time it’s gentle. He urges forward and you slowly pull yourself further up the bed, being careful not to let your lips leave his. He crawls on top of you, placing a knee on either side of your thighs where you now lay beneath him.

“I think I’m going to have a hard time not smiling now,” you murmur against his mouth.

He pulls back and hits you with the full force of that gorgeous smirk as he holds himself over you on all fours. “You’re gonna have a hard time not screaming my name in a minute.”

You mirror him with your own cocky grin and press your palm against his hard length, restrained in his jeans. “You sure about that.”

He eyelids flutter shut and his lips pop open, a soft sigh escaping them. When he looks back down at you with dark, hungry eyes, you can feel your own arousal soaking through your panties.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

END.

[fiercynn]

on ao3's current fundraiser

apparently it’s time for ao3’s biannual donation drive, which means it’s time for me to remind you all, that regardless of how much you love ao3, you shouldn’t donate to them because they HAVE TOO MUCH MONEY AND NO IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH IT.

we’ve known for years that ao3 – or, more specifically, the organization for transformative works (@transformativeworks on tumblr), or otw, who runs ao3 and other fandom projects – has a lot of money in their “reserves” that they had no plans for. but in 2023, @manogirl and i did some research on this, and now, after looking at their more recent financial statements, i’ve determined that at the beginning of 2024, they had almost $2.8 MILLION US DOLLARS IN SURPLUS.

our full post last year goes over the principles of how we determined this, even though the numbers are for 2023, but the key points still stand (with the updated numbers):

when we say ���surplus”, we are not including money that they estimate they need to spend in 2024 for their regular expenses. just the extra that they have no plan for

yes, nonprofits do need to keep some money in reserves for emergencies; typically, nonprofits registered in the u.s. tend to keep enough to cover between six months and two years of their regular operating expenses (meaning, the rough amount they need each month to keep their services going). $2.8 million USD is enough to keep otw running for almost FIVE YEARS WITHOUT NEW DONATIONS

they always overshoot their fundraisers: as i’m posting this, they’ve already raised $104,751.62 USD from their current donation drive, which is over double what they’ve asked for! on day two of the fundraiser!!

no, we are not trying to claim they are embezzling this money or that it is a scam. we believe they are just super incompetent with their money. case in point: that surplus that they have? only earned them $146 USD in interest in 2022, because only about $10,000 USD of their money invested in an interest-bearing account. that’s the interest they earn off of MILLIONS. at the very least they should be using this extra money to generate new revenue – which would also help with their long-term financial security – but they can’t even do that

no, they do not need this money to use if they are sued. you can read more about this in the full post, but essentially, they get most of their legal services donated, and they have not, themselves, said this money is for that purpose

i'm not going to go through my process for determining the updated 2024 numbers because i want to get this post out quickly, and otw actually had not updated the sources i needed to get these numbers until the last couple days (seriously, i've been checking), but you can easily recreate the process that @manogirl and i outlined last year with these documents:

otw’s 2022 audited financial statement, to determine how much money they had at the end of 2022

otw’s 2024 budget spreadsheet, to determine their net income in 2023 and how much they transferred to and from reserves at the beginning of 2024

otw’s 2022 form 990 (also available on propublica), which is a tax document, and shows how much interest they earned in 2022 (search “interest” and you’ll find it in several places)  

also, otw has not been accountable to answering questions about their surplus. typically, they hold a public meeting with their finance committee every year in september or october so people can ask questions directly to their treasurer and other committee members; as you can imagine, after doing this deep dive last summer, i was looking forward to getting some answers at that meeting!

but they cancelled that meeting in 2023, and instead asked people to write to the finance committee through their contact us form online. fun fact: i wrote a one-line message to the finance committee on may 11, 2023 through that form, when @manogirl and i were doing this research, asking them for clarification on how much they have in their reserves. i have still not received a response.

so yeah. please spend your money on people who actually need it, like on mutual aid requests! anyone who wants to share their mutual aid requests, please do so in the replies and i’ll share them out – i didn’t want to link directly to individual requests without permission in case this leads to anyone getting harassed, but i would love to share your requests. to start with, here's operation olive branch and their ongoing spreadsheet sharing palestinian folks who need money to escape genocide.

oh, and if you want to write to otw and tell them why you are not donating, i'm not sure it’ll get any results, but it can’t hurt lol. here's their contact us form – just don’t expect a response! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝑔𝑒𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

Here we go again—since my most popular fanfic just happens to be about kinks, I might as well keep feeding the masses, right?  

Kinks, round two, featuring the second-best guys, really the first-best guys in my opinion in the TKATB fandom. You know, the ones everyone secretly (or not-so-secretly) wants to romance but, unfortunately, the game just refuses to let us have.

Boo hoo. Tragic. Heartbreaking.  

We’re out here, thirsting over a handful of drawings and barely-there dialogue, while the game just sits there like, "Nah, you get scraps at best." Like, oh, cool, thanks. Totally what I asked for. Not like I wanted actual interactions or anything. 

Nope, just gonna sit here, simping in silence.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

You know the drill—I blended a bit of canon with my headcanons for Geo and Hyugo. Kept it to just four kinks to keep things short and spicy, then topped it off with a little sweet treat at the end. 

Hope you enjoy! [ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

Starting off, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Hyugo. 

Geo fans? They love a strong, silent, towering wall of a man who could probably carry all their groceries in one trip and still have a free hand. He’s dependable, steady, and intimidating in a hot way. But when it comes to suggestive content, some struggle to picture it—he’s asexual, after all.

As an asexual writer myself, I get it… and yes, I just called myself out. No excuses.

Hyugo fans, though? Y’all are wild. He’s a short shit menace, runs on sugar, and has the energy of a raccoon that found an energy drink. Cute? Absolutely. Safe? Questionable. There’s something about that playful, borderline-chaotic vibe that makes him irresistible—like a gremlin you can’t help but love.

Ngl Hyugo deadass scares me compared to Geo.

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Naturally, I have to start with my husband—Geo, aka Subaru Oogami. Now, let’s be real, if I actually called him that to his face, he’d hit me with the nastiest side-eye known to mankind. But do I care? Absolutely not. I play too much.

Geo is mysterious, sure, but let’s not act like he’s some enigma wrapped in a riddle. He’s smart, tall, and built like a damn fortress, and yeah, no one in their right mind wants to be on his bad side. But honestly? I cannot take him seriously. Like, okay, sir, you’re glaring at me—what now? You gonna keep staring? Blink twice if you need help. 

Honestly, it’s more fun to make it a game at this point.

His style, like my guy stays rocking ripped black jeans, what appears to be fishnet tights (??), a dark purple hoodie, and underneath that baggy hoodie, I thought he was wearing some kind of undershirt. 

But no. You know what it is? A tight, white workout shirt. I had to double-check, and yeah, that’s definitely a compression shirt. Why does he layer like this? I don’t know. Maybe he’s secretly a gym bro. Maybe he just likes the aesthetic. Either way, I support him.

Alright, onto the real question: Can you see Geo as kinky?

Uhhhhhh... no? But also, maybe? Listen, most asexuals know about the freakiest topics known to humankind (we do our research, don’t ask why). 

That’s the reason why I headcanon him into some non-sexual bondage thing.

But Geo himself? He’s not out here scheming, plotting, or forcing anything—he’s more of a “handle things on his own” kind of guy. That said, if you offer or if he really wants to show appreciation for you... yeah, he’s got a bit of a freak in him. Not the overwhelming kind—just enough to keep things interesting. He’s calculated about it, never too much, always just enough to leave you wondering. 

✑ Hella Vanilla (Soft Dom Baby!)

Now for Geo preferences!

Look, I’m really trying my best not to write Geo too close to Crowe, but let’s be honest—they’re both vanilla. The difference? Geo is vanilla with a capital V. Crowe at least has some experience, while Geo? 

He’s new to all this. 

Like, be nice to him, he’s still figuring things out. That being said, don’t think for a second that Geo’s gonna let you take full control. Oh no, he’s independent. You can tell him how you want to be touched, how you like to be held, but he’s stubborn—he wants to learn on his own and figure out the best way to please you himself. Trial and error, but make it hot.

Soft Dom Energy. That’s Geo. He can be broody, moody, and mad at everything, but when it comes to you, this is the only time he lets himself be vulnerable. He’s surprisingly affectionate, and during an intense make-out session? 

You will not be able to breathe. 

This man is obsessed with littering kisses all over your skin, like he’s trying to memorize you with his mouth. And let me tell you, do not try to push him away. I mean, you can try, but the second he’s out of breath, looking at you with those intense-ass eyes, he’s pulling you right back in. 

It’s almost desperate, like he physically needs you. And when you’re on his lap, instead of taking it further, this man will deadass just stare at you, call you pretty, rest his head on your chest, and hug you. Like sir??? That’s illegal???

This is why Geo is the definition of a Soft Dom. It’s not about control—it’s about connection. He doesn’t just want to do things to you, he wants to make sure you feel everything. His dominance is all about guidance, care, and making sure you know just how much he worships you.

And don’t get it twisted—just because he’s soft doesn’t mean he’s weak. 

He still has control. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he takes his time. Yeah, he can be mean, a little asshole-ish sometimes, but listen… poor Geo just has trust issues. Deep-seated daddy issues, confirmed by Fantasia herself.

As for kinks? Light bondage, teasing, and lots of sensual play. Everything with him is slow and intentional because it’s not just physical—it’s emotional. 

He gets in your head before he ever gets in your bed.

✑ Body Worship / Size

Geo is the kind of man who doesn’t need to say how much he loves you—he’ll show you instead. And when it comes to you? Yeah, he’s obsessed.

He’s 100% into body worship. All shapes. All sizes. Every single inch of you. Geo doesn’t just admire you; he memorizes you. Every dip, every curve, every little detail that makes you you—he knows it.

It’s in the way he touches you, his fingers dragging slowly over your skin like he’s mapping out something sacred. It’s in the way he kisses you, lingering at the places you don’t even think twice about—your shoulder, your wrists, the space behind your ear—just because he can. 

And the most insane part? This is all before he even considers taking it further. Sex isn’t even on his mind at this point. He just wants you close.

Also, Geo absolutely has a size kink, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

The man is huge. Tall, broad, and built like he was specifically designed to make everyone feel tiny in comparison. And if you happen to be taller or close to his height? I’m so sorry, but that does not save you. 

Geo will find a way to make you feel small—whether it’s the way he looms over you, stepping just a little too close so you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes, or how he deliberately slows his movements, reminding you just how much bigger and stronger he is.

And let me tell you—he eats that shit up.

Not in an obvious way, though. Geo isn’t Crowe; he’s not gonna outright tease you about it. But the moment he catches on how do you react?

Oh, he leans into it.

Casually backing you into a counter like he just happened to move that way, dropping his voice a little lower when he speaks, making you hyper-aware of just how much space he takes up. 

And then—the worst part?

When you say something to him, he doesn’t just answer like a normal person. No. Geo has to lean down, real slow, get right in your space, eyes heavy-lidded and unreadable before letting out a low, amused “Mm?”

Sir. Sir. You heard me the first time.

And he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing. The little shift of his lips, the faintest smirk in his eyes—he gets a kick out of watching you react. He won’t admit it, but he definitely enjoys making you flustered.

Now, about his strength. Because Geo isn’t just big—he’s ridiculously strong. And instead of being normal about it, he’s just out here carrying you whenever he feels like it.

This man is a Great Dane in human form. Yes, I get why people compare him to a cat—he’s broody, standoffish, and acts like he doesn’t care. But the second he’s comfortable around you? Boom. Massive, clingy, overgrown puppy. A whole 6’2” worth of muscle that has zero concept of personal space.

Like picture this: You’re in the kitchen, minding your business, when suddenly—boom. A wall of man is right behind you, hands casually gripping your hips, chin resting on top of your head. "What you doing in here?"

Sir. SIR. You nearly throw the spatula. You didn’t even hear him come in, and now he’s just standing there, pressed against you like your own personal shadow. And the worst part? He does this constantly.

Geo will randomly sneak up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and rest his chin on your shoulder—unbothered. He’s not even trying to start anything; he just likes being close to you. Like some big, scary-looking human-weighted blanket with zero boundaries.

And honestly? He thinks it’s cute.

(It is cute, but we are not feeding his ego.)

Now, let’s discuss his obsession with carrying you. Because Geo will carry you. And no, not just when it’s "necessary." This man will find any excuse to pick you up.

Can’t reach something? He lifts you. Feeling lazy? Over his shoulder, you go.

Trying to argue with him? Congratulations. You have been physically removed from the conversation. He doesn’t even struggle.

"Geo, PUT ME DOWN."

You could be fighting for your life, yelling at him to put you down, and he’s just walking away, completely unbothered.

"Nah." And the worst part? He’s lowkey smirking.

This man is carrying you like you weigh absolutely nothing, while you’re over here kicking your feet in protest—and he is loving every second of it. I swear to God, you’re his weakness.

Right, let’s talk about Geo’s weaknesses.

Because for all his composure, all his brooding, mysterious, cold-hearted bastard energy, the man is insanely sensitive. His chest? His stomach?

Absolute weak spots.

You don’t even have to try hard—just a light brush of your fingers along his torso, and suddenly, boom. His breath hitches, his muscles tense, and his whole body betrays him. And oh, he hates that.

Geo, who prides himself on being unshakable, unreadable, completely in control, and yet? A simple touch has him slipping. Just for a second—but it’s enough. Enough for you to see it. That momentary flicker in his expression, the way his brows furrow like he’s fighting off a reaction. 

Geo is not immune. And if you really want to break him? Focus on his chest. And since he is an asshole that also means that he is petty.

Like what you’ll do to him he will absolutely do it right back at you in the unexpected moment so— that’s how he ended up becoming obsessed with your body because you simply just could not stop touching him which I don’t blame you so.

Like doesn’t even matter even why, he’s obsessed—no possessive… of your body like he would never tell you what to wear personally, but he would definitely like to keep it for his eyes view, depending on what you’re wearing.

Trust me on this like he doesn’t even need therapy as long as that you’re exist, and that’s enough. There is not a single session where his hands aren’t on you in some way. And the worst part?

Half the time, he’s not even aware he’s doing it.

It’s absentminded.

Resting his palm over your chest while cuddling? Check. Idly tracing patterns against your skin while zoning out? Check. Acting like a human-weighted blanket with grabby hands? Double check.

But when is he aware of it? Oh, he’s shameless.

Like I know, I’m rambling at this point. I’m supposed to be talking about kinks but like let me ramble—please after all the researching I have done for his character???

Also, Geo is so touch-starved, it’s almost pitiful.

This man hates people. Hates when they fawn over him. Hates when they get too close. He keeps his distance, keeps himself cold, and it works. It suits him. Until you come along and absolutely ruin him.

Because now? He notices everything.

You, brushing your hand against his? Feels like a goddamn brand. He’ll be scrubbing the memory from his brain while on his morning run, furious that it’s still there. 

You, touching him even casually? Oh, he’s doomed.

And of course, because Geo is the worst, his response is to be even more of an asshole to you. His usual indifference turns cutting. His words get sharper, his tone a little meaner—we love a toxic man. I’m lying. But does that stop him from wanting you? No.

Geo wants his hands on you. Constantly.

Kissing, touching, staring—he’s got to feel you under his fingers. And the best part? He doesn’t even bother to pretendlike it’s anything other than pure obsession.

You ask him, “Why are you so obsessed with touching me?” And he gives you that look. The one that says, “How dare you ask something so stupid.” The one that could reduce you to ash if it were any more intense. 

His face is unreadable, as if you’ve just asked him why the sky is blue or why pizza is delicious. And then, with all the seriousness in the world, he mutters in that tone of his, “Feels nice.”

Like it’s a universal truth—as if you were the crazy one for not getting it. Duh. Yeah, he's intimidating. Yeah, he's moody. Yeah, he gives off serious "I’m a brick wall with emotional issues" vibes. But when it comes to you? 

Oh, he’s a whole different kind of animal.

He’s a soft, body-worshipping, touch-starved menace who refuses to let you out of his grip. Ever. And you know what? It’s kind of cute, in an incredibly irritating way. He’s like a big, clingy puppy with a very dangerous bite.

And when it comes to sex? Forget it. Geo’s not just here to do the bare minimum. No, no. He’s going to make sure you feel every single second of it.

Geo? He’s slow. He’s deliberate. He’s the kind of guy who’s in no rush because he wants to savor it. 

The way your body clenches around him, the way your breath catches when he pushes deeper. The way your lips stretch to fit him and your little hands look like they could barely wrap around his.

Every single tiny detail drives him absolutely insane, and he’s not going to rush through any of it.

He’s going to take his sweet time.

And Geo’s Version of Aftercare: Affectionately Rude

Listen, if you’re expecting Geo to be the type to light candles, whisper sweet nothings, or pull you into a warm, cozy embrace post-intimacy, I have some unfortunate news for you. That is not happening. Not in this lifetime, not in the next.

Soft blankets? No.

Gentle forehead kisses? Absolutely not.

Deep emotional talks? He’d rather perish.

But!—and this is important—he’s not about to treat you like some random one-night stand either. He might be an asshole, but he’s not that much of an asshole.

So what does Geo’s version of aftercare look like?

Step 1: The Bossy Bathroom Break

Before you can even catch your breath, he’s already on it. “Go to the bathroom.”

If you protest, he doesn’t argue—he just picks you up like a damn sack of flour and drops you off there himself. “I’m not carrying your ass to the ER for an infection. Move.”

Step 2: The No-Nonsense Cleanup

When you get back, he’s already waiting—arms crossed, tossing you a towel like it’s a mandatory post-battle debriefing. “Here. Clean yourself up.”

Oh, you’re tired? Sore? Struggling to move? Tough luck. Geo isn’t about to baby you, but if he sees you wobbling, he’ll just exhale through his nose, snatch the towel back, and do it himself. And of course, he won’t say why—he’ll just grumble under his breath like it’s some massive inconvenience, but his hands?

Ridiculously gentle.

Step 3: The Hoodie Toss

Cleanup done? Great. Now brace yourself, because a hoodie is coming straight for your face. “Get dressed.” No further explanation.

You’re putting on his clothes, and that’s final.

Step 4: The Food Situation

Geo’s not completely heartless—let’s get that straight. He knows you’re probably starving after he just ruined the living shit out of you, so he’ll either begrudgingly make you something himself—while fucking complaining the entire time or order takeout like a responsible adult.

And listen, I’m willing to bet that he’s shirtless while he’s doing this. Not for your benefit, of course—no, Geo doesn’t do things just to be nice. It’s probably because he’s too lazy to put a shirt back on after throwing his hoodie at you earlier.

But hey, I’m not complaining. NEITHER OF YOU

Just… be careful. You might think you’re sneaky, watching him from the bed, enjoying the view as he moves around, all toned arms and broad shoulders. But trust me—he will catch you staring.

And when he does? That knowing scoff of his will be downright insufferable.

“Like what you see? Take a picture, simp."

And just like that, any last bit of dignity you had left?

Gone.

Step 5: The Accidental Softness

But here’s where it gets interesting.

At some point, you notice it. The way his hands—big, warm, and calloused from years of archery—start slowly running over your sides. Not in a calculated way, not in an obvious way. Just absentmindedly. Like he’s not even thinking about it, just feeling.

And for all his gruffness, there’s something about the way he touches you that feels different. Like he’s grounding himself. Like, without even realizing it, he’s making sure you’re still there.

His fingers trace over your skin, gentle but firm, almost possessive. As if he’s silently reminding himself, Yeah. This happened. You’re mine. You’re still here.

And the moment you point it out?

Oh, he snaps out of it so fast. LIKE DUDE STOP RUINING THE MOMENT!!

You’re forced to sit on the living room, couch, waiting for Geo begrudgingly ordered or what he cock on the couch because—God forbid do not eat in this man’s bed he will curse you out, which I don’t blame him. I hate people eating in my bed, too.

When you pause, squinting at him.

“The hell are you looking at?” he mutters, catching your stare.

“You were touching me.”

Geo barely reacts, just raising an eyebrow. “…And?”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “So you do care.”

His jaw tightens, and for a second, it looks like he’s about to argue. Instead, he exhales sharply, shoving your food container or plate closer to you.

“Eat your damn food.” But here’s the theme as he’s looking away. You can tell the redness on his pale face so you definitely did something.

Classic Geo. Affection? Accidental. Care? Hidden under layers of attitude. But at the end of the day, he’s not letting you go.

And what’s the best part of all this?

He’s not letting you go anytime soon.

✑ Bondage (my fav…)

Y’all knew this was coming. I mean, how could I not talk about Geo and bondage? It’s honestly one of my favorites, and you’re about to see why.

Geo? He’s the type to be meticulous about it. We’re talking intricately tying your wrists and ankles—none of that rushed stuff. 

He’s all about making sure the ropes are perfect, each knot tight and precise, just the right amount of pressure on your skin. The way the ropes caress your body as he pulls them snug—there’s something almost artistic about it. 

He’s not just tying you up; he’s painting you with every knot and twist, his hands slow and deliberate as they move over your skin.

And then, when he's done, Geo doesn’t rush it. Oh no, he stands over you for a few moments, just watching. And he’s not watching with concern or any weird sense of urgency. Nah. He’s watching you squirm—studying you, as if he’s seeing how you react to being bound in his ropes, how you shift and struggle. 

He loves seeing how the ropes hold you in place, watching how you can’t move the way you want, like you’re completely at his mercy.

His eyes—those unreadable, sharp eyes—never leave you, and in that moment, it’s like everything is just about you. The way you tug at the restraints, the way your body shifts trying to find some freedom, the soft little gasps as you move. 

And he’s loving every single second of it.

He’s a tallllll guy, so the way you’re all tied up beneath him just makes him feel even bigger, like you’re trapped in his world, and there's no escape. And don’t even get me started on the way he’s so smug about it. He knows exactly how much control he has, and he’s not shy about relishing in it.

And just when you think he’s about to do something, he’ll pause—making you wait. Because if there’s one thing Geo loves more than anything, it’s the anticipation. That long, drawn-out pause before he decides to make his next move.

Oh—oh my god, let’s talk about sensory deprivation—because Geo has a bit of a thing for that. And guess what? It goes hand-in-hand with his extensive love of tying you up.

Geo’s collection of soft rope, however his silk ribbons is practically a work of art. Seriously. He’s got them all—every color you can imagine. But his favorites? Dark purple, black, and maybe a bit of red for that extra flair.

You know the red ribbon that always be in his hair? 🤭

You know, the same ribbons he uses to tie his hair? Yeah, those ones. But here’s the thing: those same ribbons are going to be used to tie YOU up.

 It’s almost like a twisted little fashion show, except this time, you’re his model.

Add little more fun ask him take pictures of you, I’m sure he’s willing to comply. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna be hesitant at first, but trust me it’s a fair trade.

He loves the way the silk glides through his fingers as he ties you up, each knot like a little secret, a personal touch only he knows. And then, once you're tied up and helpless, that's when the fun begins.

Again, he’s all about the build-up.

He’ll take his time, letting the anticipation hang thick in the air, like you both know what's coming but he’s not in any rush. He might even brush a finger over your skin just enough to tease you, before pulling away like he’s got all the time in the world. 

He does. He always does.

And once you're all tied up, there’s this weird moment where everything is heightened. Without sight, without sound, every little thing Geo does to you feels more intense. 

You can feel the air shift when he moves, the heat of his body close by but never enough. You hear the slightest sound, and your entire body tenses, wondering what he’s going to do next.

Then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he’s there, his fingers brushing over the silk ribbons, admiring how they look against your skin.

And that? That’s when he smirks HE DOES IT WHEN HIS BOBY IS FACING AWAY FROM YOU. Because he knows exactly how much this is driving you wild, and he’s not even close to done.

And trust me, you’ll be squirming in more ways than one.

✑ Katoptronophilia

Let’s talk about Katoptronophilia, or as it’s commonly known, mirror sex.

Oh yeah, Geo is totally into it, he have to be, and honestly?

I’m shocked you didn’t see this coming. The man is a walking contradiction of brooding intensity and twisted fascination with aesthetics, and mirrors? 

I’m not saying that he see himself as perfect, but he definitely wants to keep up his clean appearance.

Well, they’re his perfect tool for both.

Geo? He has mirrors everywhere in his place. It’s almost a little excessive, honestly, but then again, it makes sense. He’s constantly checking his reflection, especially after those private workouts.

MAYBE a few flexes here, a few glances there—just to make sure his ‘I’m too cool to smile’ vibe is intact, right? But here's the twist: it’s not just about his reflection anymore.

Geo loves watching you in front of a mirror. He’s not obsessed with his own reflection, oh no. He’s captivated by you—your movements, your expressions.

He loves it when you catch yourself in the mirror, when you get distracted by the way your body looks. It’s like you’ve given him an excuse to slip in behind you, without a single word.

Imagine this, theses are my delusions: You’re putting on a simple gloss, just trying to get ready for the day, glancing at yourself in the mirror.

But then… you feel him.

Geo’s presence is like a shadow that makes the air a little thicker. He stands there, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, but you’re too focused on your lips to notice. He watches as you press the gloss on, lips glistening, your reflection sparkling under the light.

And then, the moment you don’t expect it, his hands are on your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as his eyes trace the mirror. His voice is a low, teasing murmur, almost playful: “You look good. You know that, right?”

You think he’s just commenting on your outfit. Oh no.

Geo’s temptation? To mess it up.

That’s right, his eyes flick down to your lips, and the only thing stopping him from ruining that glossy shine is his overwhelming urge to keep you distracted. His lips are close to yours, and he can practically taste the anticipation, his hands tightening around you just enough to remind you he’s there.

It’s like he gets a kick out of making you aware of the fact that he’s behind you, studying your reflection. And maybe just a little bit more into watching you lose control of that mirror.

For example, It was one of those rare, lazy days where neither of you had any pressing work to do, and Geo was not thrilled about it. The man is built to be active, always on the move, constantly lifting or running or pushing himself to the limit. But today? He was stuck at a slower pace, and honestly? 

He was grumbling about it.

You, on the other hand, were doing your best to get him to actually relax—something he hates with a passion, but deep down, he knew he needed it. So, with a few gentle suggestions, you managed to convince him to settle down on the couch. But knowing Geo, it didn’t take long for things to take a turn. 

There you were, sitting in his lap, your back against his broad chest as his face buried into your shoulder. He was mumbling into your skin, the low hum of his voice sending shivers down your spine as his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He was trying, trying so hard to be calm, but the proximity, the way your body moved just slightly under his hands—it made it harder for him to focus.

The thing was, Geo couldn’t stay still for long.

Not when you were close.

So, as you shifted in his lap, trying to get more comfortable, he couldn't help but tighten his grip, pulling you just a little closer. His face pressed deeper into your neck, the weight of his body felt warm and heavy, his breath ghosting along your skin. 

"Stop squirming," he mumbled against your ear, though there was an edge to his voice—one that made it clear he wasn’t as relaxed as he let on. His fingers began to trace over your sides, gradually finding their way lower, guiding your movements with soft but firm pressure. 

And then, you noticed it—right in front of you two, the full-length mirror. 

It was like the universe had set it up just for this moment. You caught a glimpse of yourself, your body moving against his, his fingers rubbing in time with your shifts. The reflection only made it worse—made you more aware of the fact that every tiny movement of your body, every little gasp or twitch, was being mirrored, amplified, observed.

Geo was watching you carefully, studying your reflection as much as he was focused on how you were guiding him. He could see your fingers fidgeting on top of his hands, guiding him where to rub your clothed pussy, where to touch—each motion becoming more deliberate as you tried to maintain some semblance of control. 

“Geo, please…” you breathed, unable to help the way your own body responded, shifting to meet his touch. Geo’s breath hitched, his eyes flicking between your reflection and your face, watching as you squirmed in his arms. 

There was something electric about this—something that pushed all his patience to the limit, something he couldn’t ignore. His hand moved again, more firmly now, following your lead as you guided him, your body responding to every slow, deliberate movement. 

The way the mirror captured everything—the way your body arched against his, the quiet moans slipping from your lips, the way your eyes locked with his in the reflection as you both lost track of time—it was almost like you were both trapped in a moment, caught between the pleasure of the present and the art of watching you unfold. 

Geo might’ve been the one leading the way, but you were the one showing him just how much control you had, even in a moment like this.

Now watching his bare cock lined up on your stomach as you sat on his lap, reaching way past your belly button, talking about just how small you are compared to him, and wondering how he’s gonna make it fit.

As the minutes ticked by, the air in the room thickened, almost like it was holding its breath. The only sounds were the soft rhythmic movement of your bodies pressing together, and the small, breathless noises that escaped you as you rode him. 

Geo watched you with those predatory eyes, his grip tightening around your waist as you squirmed above him, just enough to drive him insane. He was nothing if not patient—insufferably patient, in fact—and he knew exactly how to draw this out. Every movement you made, every quiet whimper that slipped past your lips, only served to fuel his sick little plan.

He wasn’t going to let you win. Not yet.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, and you felt the heat of his breath on your neck, each exhale making your skin prickle with anticipation. 

But you couldn’t hold back anymore, could you? 

You were close, so close to the point where you needed him to take control, to make it stop. You were whimpering now, clinging to him, begging for him to take over. 

Geo’s lips sighed into that knowing look. He could hear it in your voice—how you were unraveling on his cock. He keeps you close until his abdomen is drenched in your slick, chuckling under his breath when you whine.

And he loved it. His thumbs traced slow circles over the plush flesh of your waist, the pressure light but deliberate. 

Every time you tried to hold back a mewl, he'd hum in response—low, condescending, almost amused by your desperation. 

"Giving up already?" he’d tease, his voice like velvet, coated in that dangerous edge of satisfaction. "Pathetic." 

But the truth was, Geo was bone-tired. 

Not in the sense that he was worn out, but in the way that only you could fill the void for him. He didn’t need anything but you, right there, straddling him, your body pressed against his. His face buried into your neck, savoring the warmth of your skin, the sweet, familiar scent of you that drove him wild. It wasn’t about control anymore. 

It was about feeling you, grounding himself in the sensation of being with you, connected in the most primal way.

And still, even when you were frozen, not moving an inch—your body so deeply connected to his—he felt it. The pressure, the way you clung to him, the way it was making both of you dizzy. It was too much. 

You were too tight, too perfect, too intoxicating. 

And then, just when you thought it was too much to bear, when you were on the edge, your mind fogged with lust, Geo pulled away. 

Just a little. Enough to make you ache. Enough to make your whole body tremble in frustration. You could feel the absence of him like a physical pull, and your breath hitched. The tease was unbearable. 

He wasn’t done with you yet. Not by a long shot. Geo enjoyed watching you suffer, toying with you, letting you think he was finally going to let you have your release. And then, when you were this close—he'd pull away again, dragging out the torment. 

Just enough to send you spiraling into your own frustration. 

And that? That was when he felt alive—pressing himself up away from the mattress, just enough to lift you off the bed too with ease. He doesn’t waste time, picking you up like you're weightless and pulling you flush against his chest, your arms snaking around his neck and your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. 

You’re not going anywhere—not that you’d want to. 

And that’s when he goes to town, fucking into you with a brutal, relentless pace. Every thrust is calculated, every movement intentional, as he watches the mess you're making in the mirror. 

You can see everything—the way you squirm, the way your lips part in breathless pleasure, the way your body trembles against him. And just when you think you can’t take anymore, he’s there—pushing you further, harder, faster. You sink your nails into his shoulders as he held you close, the sting of your grip only making him press into you deeper.

Geo doesn’t just push you back onto the mattress—he somewhat shoves you, forcing you to feel the weight of his strength as he pins you down.

There’s no hesitation, no softness, just raw, unrelenting dominance. His hand presses firmly against your stomach, palm splayed out possessively, applying just enough pressure to remind you exactly how deep he is.

And then, because he’s an absolute menace, he leans down, voice a low, mocking drawl right against your ear.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with condescension. “Taking me so well… like you were made for this.”

He watches your reaction with that signature smirk—half amusement, half arrogance—because he knows he’s wrecking you. And when you’re struggling to respond, barely holding yourself together?

Geo just chuckles, pressing down on your stomach a little harder.

“C’mon,” he taunts, voice dark and teasing. “Where’d all that attitude go? You were talking plenty of shit earlier.”

Oh my god, am I actually into degrading?

Then, that beautiful moment when you cry out his name, torn between wanting him to keep going or begging him to stop. It feels so damn good you can't decide.

Your body shakes and trembles, not sure whether it’s from the pleasure or the overwhelming sensation of being so completely consumed by him. 

You tell him you’re in control this time. 

You insist you’ll fuck him this time—you’re going to win. 

But deep down, you know how it ends every single time. No matter how much you try to convince him, Geo always wins.

Who wouldn't want a man like that, who knows exactly how to leave you breathless, on the edge of losing yourself?

And frankly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

✑ 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

Here’s sweet baby boy Hyugo—Hyugo Sugimoto !Honestly, writing him is lowkey a challenge, especially compared to someone like Geo, but since I have a soft spot for the brothers more than the main leads (yes, even with all their complex personalities), I’m doing it for y’all.

But anyway, let’s talk about Hyugo.

He’s literally the sweetest person you’ll ever meet, hands down. Even though his outfits are on the simple side, his youthful energy just makes him glow.

He’s got this oval-shaped face, a bit baby-faced, and his sky-blue eyes are sparkling with that innocent charm. His lips are thin, but there's this softness about him that makes you want to believe he's just the nicest guy ever.

But, and here’s the thing—don’t let that sweet face fool you.

We all know the cutest, most innocent-looking ones can hide some serious secrets, right? They say looks can be deceiving, and trust me, with Hyugo, that’s an understatement.

So, the big question—can you see Hyugo as kinky?

For me? Hell yeah, absolutely.

For others? Maybe they think he’s just sweet and harmless, but I’m not taking any chances. After the stuff he pulls in the game? Nah, I’m not falling for that "good boy" act. That man’s got layers, and some of them are not nearly as innocent as they seem.

I mean, let’s be real, the guy knows how to get exactly what he wants without ever breaking a sweat.

✑ Switch (Sub side…)

Now, let’s dive into baby boy Hyugo's preferences, shall we?

Just like his best buddy Sol, Hyugo is a switch—and when I say switch, I mean capital S to the H—A. SWITCH. No questions asked.

Now, imagine my surprise when I learned he used to be a virgin, and the dude did it with a man?

Yeah, he's a switch.

I have no idea who's doing the bending (or maybe that’s the whole point, right?), but I’m calling it like I see it. Hyugo can take both roles and absolutely slay in either of them.

Meanwhile, Sol's out here second-guessing every text he sends, wondering if he's being too much or not enough, texting wrong men for validation. We love him, but come on, bro. Hyugo, on the other hand, is living his best life.

Like, imagine this: Hyugo, all giggly and kicking his feet, waiting for you to reply to his sweet dinner invitation text. You send back a “Can’t wait!” and he’s over the moon, practically bouncing off the walls. He’s so happy you’re with him, it’s honestly the cutest thing ever.

And when you’re together? Oh, he holds your hand like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He’s got that combination of shock and glee—like he can’t believe you’re actually here with him.

You’re tugged into his side with every step, and he’s showering you with little kisses on your temple, just so happy to have you close.

Like, Hyugo is a sweetheart, but don’t let that fool you. Beneath that cute, giggling exterior is a switch who knows exactly what he wants—and trust me, he’s not afraid to get it.

Hyugo? Yeah, the moment that door to your apartment clicks shut behind him, he’s a completely different person.

All that sweet, baby-faced charm? Gone.

He transforms into someone much wilder, more needy. It’s like the minute he's in private with you, he’s letting down all his defenses.

And yeah, most of the time, Hyugo’s a sub. He’s got that soft, touch-starved side that craves affection and care. He wants you to baby him, in the way only you can—gentle, but with that touch that makes him feel seen and wanted. You can tell he's a little starved for it, much like his brother Geo.

However Hyugo knows how to hold it back a little more, unlike his best buddy Sol. No offense to Sol, but he’s just a tad more... obvious about it, right? 

Anyway, Hyugo? It’s like a delicate balance of needing you while still holding on to his cool exterior until it all comes crashing down.

Now, don’t get me wrong, like I said Hyugo loves when you baby him. 

He may not openly admit it, but the way his eyes soften when you shower him with attention? Yeah, it’s more than enough evidence. He might even have a little bit of a thing for being pampered and cared for, but I won’t dive into that—not my cup of tea. Mommy kink.

But that doesn’t mean his desires stop there. Oh no, once you’ve got him behind closed doors, the sweetness can turn into something else entirely.

Because let me tell you something—Hyugo does NOT do slow and sensual. The second he hears anything remotely related to sex, it’s like flipping a switch. He’ll be pounding into you like it’s the last time you two will ever touch, and he’s not exactly taking his time. There’s an urgency there, like he’s starving for you in the most primal way.

And your breasts? Forget about it. 

You cannot keep him off of them. He’s all over them, kissing, sucking, mouthing at them like they’re the best thing in the world. Hyugo’s hands are never far away, especially when they’re roaming, taking every chance to squeeze, kiss, or just touch whatever he can get his hands on.

But here’s the thing: he loves being told what to do. He thrives on direction, on being guided, and the more you tease him, the more he wants.

Deny him just a little, though?

Oh, that’s when he gets even more worked up. Being denied? It’s like a whole new level of arousal for him, something about the frustration only makes him more desperate.

Hyugo’s a mess in the best way—he craves attention, craves being controlled, and craves all of you. So when you finally give in and take control, he’s lost to the feeling, ready for whatever comes next. 

And trust me, you will feel it.

✑ Semi-public (My lord…)

Hyugo? Baby, he’s got a serious thrill-seeking side, and it shows. 

The boy is daring, and when he wants you, he doesn’t waste time hiding it. You think he’s just a sweet, baby-faced guy? Think again. He’s into semi-public situations, and he thrives off the danger of it. No place is off-limits for him, even the college roof—the place he loves to hang out at when he needs some space, away from the rules and prying eyes. 

But with you? He doesn’t care about the risk.

When he’s on that the college roof, staring out at the world, there’s a fire in his eyes, and the second he gets you alone, the rules don’t matter. He wants you ‘right there’, right then, and you can bet he’s not shy about it. 

The thrill of being seen, even just for a second, turns him on more than anything. He wants the world to know you're his, and he’ll do anything to get a taste of that danger. The whole atmosphere is thick with anticipation, the tension between you so palpable that it almost crackles.

And when it comes to foreplay? 

Don’t even get me started on how obsessed he is with dry-humping. The second the two of you are close, it’s like an instinctual need for friction. You can feel the heat building as he presses into you, his body grinding and frotting against yours. 

There’s no subtlety here—he’s desperate for that contact, desperate to feel your body move against his. Every little roll of his hips, every grind, is a game of inches as he gets closer and closer to losing control. He’s completely lost in the sensation, like he can’t get enough.

And then, when he can’t stand it anymore, when that desperation peaks and you’ve been teasing him just enough—he rips your clothes off. Right then. Right there. It’s not even about taking his time anymore; it’s all about the raw need. He’s done holding back, and in that moment, all that matters is the frantic urgency to have you, to touch you. 

There’s no question in his mind—he needs you now.

Like that boy will get off any way he can if it means getting that release. And it’s not even about subtlety, he just needs to do it.

Now, for a fun little twist: He’s definitely into pegging. I’m not saying he’s screaming for it every minute of the day, but when the right time comes, he’s all about it. There’s just something about it that turns him on in a way nothing else can. He will beg you to fuck his tight little asshole until he makes a mess.

But honestly, that’s Hyugo—always a little more complicated than you might think.

And when it comes to moaning? That boy whines and moans like a fucking bitch when you’re going at him. It’s like every little sensation sends him spiraling into this blissed-out mess. He just can’t help it, and you’ll quickly learn that his whimpering is one of the sexiest sounds in the world.

But don’t get it twisted—he loves being treated right. 

He loves that softness, that attention. 

But there’s a part of him that wants to be pushed a little, taken advantage of in a way that leaves him desperate. You can take your frustrations out on him, just a little. He won’t break. He might even love it more than you expect.

When it comes to degradation, Hyugo’s not into anything too harsh, but call him your slut? Oh, you’re speaking his language now. 

That little spark in his eye will light up every time you remind him who he belongs to. He won’t admit it, but he loves being labeled that way, that submissive title making him feel just a little bit more desperate, a little more needed. So yeah, don’t be fooled by the baby-faced charm—Hyugo is a lot more than he lets on. 

Treat him right, give him what he craves, and you’ll be surprised at just how wild he gets when you push his buttons.

✑ Overstimulation

And then there’s overstimulation. 

Sometimes, it’s not even intentional, but it’s inevitable with Hyugo. You feel so damn good above him, your body responding to every touch, every thrust. He’s chasing that high, pulling you closer to the edge again and again until your body can’t take it. 

And Hyugo’s a man who knows what he wants and may ur may not beg for it, and he loves when you take control, especially when it comes to pulling his soft hair. 

The way his breath hitches whenever your fingers tangle in his hair—that’s his weakness. He’s yours, every inch of him, and he’s not shy about showing it. Each time you yank his hair, you can hear the shameless moans slip from his lips. 

It drives him crazy, his body reacting to every tug, and it only fuels the fire between you two. He’s not just giving—he’s taking, fully immersed in the feeling, and you can tell by the way his tongue works at your trembling walls. 

And let me tell you, this man is all about cunnilingus.

There’s nothing soft or shy about it; Hyugo’s a big eater, and he’s hungry for you. When his lips press to your pussy, it’s like he’s starving, devouring you like he hasn’t eaten in days. His arms wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he feasts on you. 

He licks, sucks, and nibbles with a feverish intensity, working his way through every inch of you, as if he’ll die if he doesn't get every drop.

Sometimes it feels like it’s too much, his tongue relentless, but you can’t stop the heat it builds. You’ll squirm and tug at his hair, urging him on, and he just pulls you closer, deeper into the sensation.

Hyugo’s eye contact is deadly. When he wants you, he’s not looking away. His hand grips your jaw, tilting your head, forcing you to look at him. He demands that you keep your eyes on him, guiding you with his fiery gaze. 

Those eyes of his? Thoes soft eyes turns Intense. Piercing. He’s studying every little thing about you—the way your pupils dilate with desire, the flutter of your lashes as he pushes you further, deeper. 

The intensity of his gaze makes it all feel so much more real. He doesn’t need to say a word; his eyes speak louder than anything.

You’re a shaking mess in his arms, your muscles aching, your mind overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you. But that’s the thing about him—he won’t stop.

He doesn’t care about your begging, about how much you can take; he wants to see you lose yourself, to feel you break into a thousand pieces in his arms. 

And when you finally do, he’s yours. 

Completely, utterly yours.

✑ Role play

Oh, baby boy is all about the roleplay. 

And no, let me clear that up right now, he's not into anything dangerous or dark—no gunplay, no assassin fantasies (he never even brings up his questionable word side to you, thank you very much). 

But when it comes to the playful stuff? Oh, he’s all in. His absolute favorite? Cops and robbers. But here’s the twist—he loves being the one arrested. 

There’s something about you in charge, giving him that commanding look, your fingers brushing over the cuffs, the way you look him up and down like you’re about to throw him in the back of your car that drives him wild.

Humiliation? Oh, Hyugo lives for it. You can see it in his eyes when the teasing starts, the way his entire demeanor shifts—there’s a naughty little spark that lights up in his gaze whenever you call him out. 

You both know the game, and you’re always more than happy to play along. 

It starts simple enough, just a teasing glance or a casual remark. But the more you push him, the more he wants to be pushed. You lower your voice, your hand brushing over his thigh as you lean in, whispering in his ear, “Such a good little whore for me, huh? You can’t get enough of it, can you?”

His breath hitches, a flicker of a smirk crossing his face as he tries to hold it together. But, oh, you know better. The words trip over his tongue as he fumbles, his voice dropping a little—just enough for you to hear the hesitation, the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to keep under wraps. 

“W-wait, I didn’t… I didn’t say—” His words stutter, barely escaping, and you can already see the flush rising in his cheeks. The little twitch at the corner of his lips betrays him, and the smug grin you're wearing only deepens. 

Gotcha.

“Oh, but you’re looking so cute right now, all flustered. It’s adorable how easily you fold under just a few words.” You can’t help but tease, watching him squirm under your touch. His cheeks are flushed, his breath uneven, and his eyes are flickering, darting away, trying to avoid the weight of your gaze.

But you won’t let him escape.

You never do.

He tries to play it off, shifting uncomfortably, biting his lip as he avoids looking you directly in the eyes. His fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for you, to make it stop, but he can’t. Not yet.

“You know,” you continue, letting the silence stretch before adding, “you look so cute when you try to act like you’re not loving every second of this. You’re my slutty little toy, and you know it, don’t you?”

The words sink in, and you watch his entire body tense. His throat works as if he’s about to protest, but all that comes out is a frustrated little moan. “S-stop… I’m not—” 

“You’re not?” you cut him off, raising an eyebrow, “Then why are you blushing so much? Why do you look like you’re about to come just from me saying those words?”

He stammers, unable to form any coherent argument, his voice cracking with embarrassment. “I-I didn’t… you can’t—”

You lean in closer, your breath hot against his ear. “It’s okay, Hyugo. I know you’re mine. You’re just too cute when you try to act like you’re not my little slut. You’ll never be able to hide that from me.”

And with that, his face burns even brighter, his attempts at deflecting your words turning into soft, desperate whimpers. It’s game over for him, and he knows it. His body betrays him every single time.

You can’t help but love watching him squirm under the weight of your teasing, his mouth opening, but no words coming out as he struggles to keep his composure. 

This game? You’re always the winner. And Hyugo? 

Well, he’s always more than happy to play.

✑ Cheirophilia

Hear me out—Cheirophilia.

Oh, Hyugo? That boy lives for touch. He’s naturally affectionate, always finding little excuses to run his fingers along your skin, tracing lazy circles on your palm, interlocking fingers, brushing his knuckles against your cheek like he just hasto be touching you at all times.

So let’s be real—he’s got a thing for hands.

And not just in the oh, I like holding hands kind of way. No, no, this man will obsess over your hands. The shape of them, the way your fingers move, the strength of your grip. He notices everything.

How your nails look when they drag across his back, how soft your palms feel when you cup his face, how effortlessly your fingers wrap around his throat when you push him down and remind him exactly who he belongs to.

Hyugo melts when you play with his hands, too. Run your fingers along the lines of his palms? He shudders. Press a kiss to his knuckles? He’s giggling like a schoolgirl. Lace your fingers with his and tighten your grip just slightly? He’s already giving you those fuck-me eyes.

And don’t even get him started on watching you use your hands. The way you gesture when you talk, the way your fingers curl when you beckon him closer—he’s hanging onto every movement, completely entranced.

If he’s sitting across from you, he’ll grab your hand mid-conversation just to absentmindedly play with your fingers, pressing them to his lips like it’s second nature.

But in the bedroom? Oh, baby, you’re in trouble.

Hyugo adores watching your hands work on him. Gripping his hair, clawing at his back, holding him down—he’s watching every single twitch of your fingers with rapt attention.

He lives for the moment when your hands tremble just slightly from the pleasure, when you grip the sheets so hard your knuckles turn white, when your fingers sink into his shoulders, desperate to hold onto something while he ruins you.

And let’s be real, he loves having your hands around his throat. Not too rough, just enough pressure to make his breath hitch, his pulse racing under your fingertips. He’ll grin at you, eyes dark with mischief, voice breathy as he teases, “Tighter, please. You know I can take it.”

And you already know Hyugo’s got stamina for days. 

He’s insatiable, always riled up and ready to go again before you’ve even caught your breath. One round isn’t enough—hell, two barely cuts it. If he’s spent one session melting under your touch, panting and begging for more, then the next?

Oh, he’s flipping the script, pinning you down, and making sure you remember exactly who he is.

And he takes his time with it.

Who’s spreading you apart, just fucking staring until you’re squirming? 

Hyugo.

"No, pretty girl, let me look." His hands hold you still, thumbs pressing against your trembling thighs, watching with those hungry, sky-blue eyes—eyes that burn with amusement and desire as you try to close your legs.

But he won’t let you. Not until he’s had his fill, memorizing how ruined you already are before he even touches you properly. 

Then, when you whimper his name, he just grins. "There she is." And then he’s diving in, suckling, licking, dragging his tongue over every inch like he’s starving.

Who’s got the nastiest mouth on him when your thighs are tossed over his shoulders, his cock pounding into you, relentless? 

Hyugo.

"Hear how good you takin’ me, honey?" His voice is deep, ragged, lips curling into that cocky little smirk when he feels you tighten around him. 

"Tryin’ to squeeze every last drop outta me, huh? Greedy thing." His fingers dig into your hips, holding you down, making you feel every inch of him, and he’s watching you—eyes locked onto the way your face twists in pleasure, the way your hands grasp at the sheets, at him.

And let’s be honest, who’s absolutely wrecked the moment he feels your walls start to flutter around him? 

Hyugo.

"Fuck—lemme inside one more time, yeah? Will ya let me, beautiful, please?" His breath is hot against your neck, lips brushing against your ear as he pleads, as he begs. 

"Wanna have me leaking outta you for days, please—" His body trembles, overwhelmed and desperate, rutting into you with everything he has left. And when you finally give in, whispering his name, he shatters.

And afterward? He’s all clingy and cuddly, wrapping himself around you, arms locked tight like he never wants to let go. He buries his face in your neck, pressing lazy kisses against your skin, murmuring, "Was I good for you? Made you feel good, yeah?"—and the way he says it, voice soft, needy, full of quiet vulnerability, makes your heart ache.

But oh, when he’s the one pushing your buttons?

That’s when the real game begins.

Hyugo lives for a power play. He’ll push and push, teasing you with every filthy little comment, every smug remark slipping from his lips, knowing exactly how to make you crack. 

The more you try to act unaffected, the harder he digs in. Hands wandering, lips ghosting over your skin, voice dropping into something slow and deliberate, thick with amusement.

"Aww, what’s the matter, babe? Tryna act all composed? Cute—" His fingers lace with yours, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles, all innocent, but his grin says otherwise. 

"But you know I see right through you, don’t you?" His lips brush against your ear, and he laughs when he feels the shiver that runs down your spine.

You pretend you don’t care.

But Hyugo? He knows better.

[angelltheninth]

Hi just wanted to say that I love reading your invincible fics !! If your still accepting requests; would it be ok if I request dating hcs on Mark , Eve and Rex please 🙏 (separate if possible) love them so much (reader I’m fine with female or gn ^^)

I love those three too! I will gladly accept your request.

Pairing: Mark Grayson, Eve Wilkins, Rex Sloan x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, dating, kissing, flying, power use, flirting, banter, established relationship, superheroes

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Dating one of them would be great, but imagine dating all three?!

The best boyfriend you could ask for, will take care of you no matter what you need

More on the shy side when you first begin your relationship and easily flustered

You have to be the one to kiss him first, he doesn't exactly have a lot experience with dating

Always got tongue tied around pretty women and you are no exception even after you begin dating

Uses his powers to impress you, or tries to impress you, but he almost crashes into a building because he was too busy flirting with you to notice it

Happy to be affectionate in public, always holds your hand while you walk together

Stays up late to talk to you, Mark is pretty stubborn when it comes to ending the call first

Listens to your heartbeat from far away because it helps him relax and puts him to sleep easier

His phone is filled with pictures of you in various outfits, some of which you bought on your dates, others that you had in your closet and sent pictures to him

The best kinds of dates are the nightly flights he takes you on, high above the city, somewhere private, there are so many romantic spots to explore around the world

Eve compliments you a lot before and after you begin dating, that and affectionate touching are how she expresses her love the most

When she wants to kiss you and you're on the other side of the room she floats right next to you and plants a quick kiss on your cheek right before moving away

If you want to kiss her back you're gonna have to catch her first, which might prove a bit of challenge but the reward will be worth it

Kisses your hand a lot and enjoys the way it makes you blush, you're like a pretty princess

Doesn't let anything interrupt your cuddling sessions and if there's anything either of you need to grab she will levitate it within arms reach

Loves helping you with your makeup and buying you makeup and various accessories, most of them matching

Not shy about taking showers together when either of you spends the night at the others place

Absolutely melts on the inside when she wakes up and sees that you cooked her favorite food to make her feel better when she had a bad night or a bad mission

Hugs you tight when you sleep next to each other, kissing your forehead before she fully falls asleep

On your anniversaries she always tries to come up with something new and fun for the two of you to do together

Big flirt compared to your previous boyfriends and will use any chance to make you blush

Can be the big spoon or the little spoon, it doesn't make much difference to Rex as long as he gets to hold you in his arms all night long

Enjoys leaving kiss marks and bite marks on you, grinning like a lovesick fool when he sees them on you while you're getting dressed

Kisses you in front of his friends and teammates when ever he gets the chance

When it's your anniversary he makes his own fireworks, maybe slightly less flashy but he wants you to see the effort he put in

Gets slightly jealous when he sees other heroes trying to flirt with you

Often works out in front of you since he knows you enjoy seeing his muscles, and the occasional invitation to get into the shower with him after he's done

Huge fan of sleeping over at your place and leaving his clothes there, but he pretends he does it on accident

Actually he does that specifically to see how you're wearing his clothes more and more, during the day and when you're going to sleep, wearing one of his shirts

Instead of just kissing you he will often instigate a long make out session, he can't keep his hands off a pretty girl like you

[rootedinrevisions]

Terrified to Lose You

Summary: It was supposed to be nothing—just one reckless night to get each other out of their systems before he shipped out. But when cocky, insufferable Jake Seresin lets his guard down, and she lets herself lean in, the lines between want and something deeper start to blur. With the weight of tomorrow pressing in and unspoken feelings lingering between them, neither is ready to admit just how much this night really means. Because once the sun rises, he’s gone and there are no guarantees he’s coming back.

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Sexual Content/Smut. Strong Language, Military Themes (Looming Deployments, Uncertainty of Returning from Deployments, etc.)

Word Count: 9,514

Author’s Note: This is a combination of a request I received for enemies to lovers with Jake Seresin. As well as the @elixirfromthestars writing challenge using the song Death Wish Love by Benson Boone from the Twisters soundtrack…but using it for the Top Gun: Maverick Fandom instead. Hope you guys like it! xx

The Hard Deck is buzzing with the usual chatter, but there’s an edge to it tonight. The music is a little too loud, and the pool tables are too noisy, but no one is really having fun. Not tonight.

The squad has gathered, everyone gathered around the bar, half-heartedly pretending to be relaxed. The pitchers of beer on every table are the only thing that seems to lighten the mood, but it’s forced. 

Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow evening Coyote, Hangman, Rooster, Payback, Fanboy, Phoenix, and Bob head out for a mission they’ve been preparing for for weeks. There’s a lingering sense that no one knows exactly what’s waiting for them on that aircraft carrier.

Coyote and Rooster are at the pool table, the clack of cues against balls filling the space. Payback, Fanboy, Phoenix, and Bob are crowded around one of the tables laughing at some half-hearted joke. But even they can’t ignore the quiet weight of what’s coming. The deployment is looming, the jet engines roaring in their minds even as they try to unwind, and everyone knows that tonight could be the last time they are all together.

But you? You’re on the outside looking in. You had been on the shortlist. Had been the key phrase. Your name was in the mix for this mission, and for a moment it felt like you would finally get your shot. Then the final call came, and you weren’t picked. The rejection stings more than it should, but you push it down. You try to drown it in a gulp of your drink.

You shouldn’t be bitter. They chose who they thought was right for the mission, but that doesn’t stop the resentment from bubbling up in your chest.

Then of course there’s Jake. He's sitting at the bar, that cocky smirk never leaving his face. Even as the weight of tomorrow presses on him too. His eyes flicker toward you once in a while, the usual game between you two never stopping. There’s always a silent challenge in the air when the two of you are in the same room.

Even now, with everything so tense, you can feel his gaze like a weight on your back.

“Stop staring, Hangman,” you mutter to yourself, but you know he’s already aware.

You shift on your stool, and a sudden urge to leave this place sweeps over you. This wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You should be out there with them preparing for the mission. Not stuck watching them go off and do it while you sit on the sidelines.

And yet, every time you turn your head, you catch his eye again. That infuriating, self-assured smirk.

He tipped his beer toward you. "Gonna miss me when I’m gone, sweetheart?"

You scoffed, reaching for your own drink. "I don’t even like you when you’re here, Hangman."

A chorus of groans erupted from the group.

"For the love of God," Phoenix muttered, rubbing her temples like she was developing a headache. "Just fuck already and put us out of our misery."

Bob sipped his drink and shook his head. "I’d rather not have to witness that, actually."

You rolled your eyes. "As if."

Hangman, the smug bastard, winked at you like he knew something you didn’t.

You gasped, feigning outrage, which only made his grin widen. "You are unbelievable."

"And you," he countered, voice dipping just enough to make your pulse skip, "love it."

Your lips parted, ready to fire back, but the weight of everyone’s eyes on you made you hesitate. It wasn’t the first time the team had accused you two of having some kind of unresolved tension, but the last thing you wanted to do was give them more fuel for the fire.

So, instead of acknowledging the warmth creeping up your neck, you simply took another sip of your drink and turned away. Hangman let out a quiet chuckle, low and knowing, and you knew this wasn’t over.

A few hours passed, The Hard Deck was nearly empty now, and the warm hum of conversation long faded. Penny wiped down the bar, occasionally glancing your way, but she knew better than to interfere. Everyone else had trickled out, heading back to base or wherever else they were spending their last night before deployment. 

But you were still here. And so was Hangman.

He leaned against the wall near the back pool tables, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you like he had all the time in the world. That infuriating smirk of his hadn’t wavered, even as exhaustion tugged at the edges of the night.

"You worried about me, darlin’?" he drawled, voice low, lazy like he already knew the answer.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as something inside you twisted tight. "I don’t have the energy to waste worrying about you."

That should have been the end of it. But of course, it never was.

Hangman pushed off the wall and took a slow step toward you. His eyes glinted, sharp and knowing. 

"That’s a lie."

Your jaw clenched. His confidence was insufferable, unbearable even. Because it wasn’t just arrogance. It was accuracy. It was him knowing you better than he should, seeing things you weren’t ready to admit.

The pressure building in your chest needed somewhere to go, so you shoved at him. Hard. Your palms met the solid plane of his chest, and even though he barely budged, it made you feel like you had some kind of control over the situation.

You turned on your heel, needing distance, needing air. Footsteps followed, steady and unhurried. 

"You know what your problem is?"

You didn’t stop walking, didn’t answer. But when you heard him getting closer, and felt the heat of his presence just behind you, you couldn’t stop yourself from turning back around, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"Oh, please, enlighten me," you snapped.

He was right there. Close enough that the scent of his cologne curled around you. Close enough that his breath, slow and even, ghosted against your skin. The space between you had evaporated, leaving nothing but heat and the heavy weight of everything unspoken.

"You talk a big game," he murmured, voice low and edged with something that made your stomach tighten. "But you don’t know what to do when someone calls your bluff."

The words hit like a challenge. And for the first time all night, you didn’t have a comeback.

Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling faster than you wanted to admit. He always did this. Pushed you right to the edge, just to see if you’d jump. And God help you, but you always did.

"Fuck you, Seresin."

He grinned, but this time, there was something sharper behind it, something more dangerous. "Yeah? Say that again."

Your teeth clenched as you shoved him, both hands flat against his chest. He barely moved, but the warmth of his body beneath your palms sent a jolt through you, one you refused to acknowledge.

"I swear to God if you don’t back off—"

"Or what?" His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it, something dark and crackling in the air between you.

You were breathing hard now, but so was he.

"You drive me fucking crazy," you gritted out.

Jake huffed a short laugh, tilting his head. "Likewise, sweetheart."

Silence. Charged. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, and without thinking, you wet them. It was the smallest movement, but he caught it. Of course, he did.

And then he moved.

His hands were on your face, fingers pressing into your jaw as his lips crashed into yours, hard and desperate, like he’d been holding back for way too long. There was nothing soft about it, nothing careful. It was fire and fury, an explosion of everything you’d been choking down for months.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands found his hair, twisting and pulling, nails scratching just to get a reaction. And God, did you get one.

Jake groaned into your mouth, deep and raw, before spinning you, pushing you back against the wooden wall of the bar. The impact sent a shockwave through your body, but you barely noticed. Not when his knee slipped between your thighs, pressing just enough to make you gasp.

"I hate you," you breathed, head tipping back as his mouth dragged along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

He grinned against your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. "You love this, though."

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Because the way you pulled him closer, nails digging into his shoulders, said everything.

His teeth scraped against your throat, and your grip on his shirt tightened like you were trying to ground yourself, trying to remember why this was a terrible idea. But then his hands slid down your sides, rough and unrelenting, and suddenly, thinking wasn’t an option anymore.

Jake pulled back just enough to catch your gaze, green eyes dark and wicked under the dim light of the bar’s exterior. His lips were swollen, his breath coming just as fast as yours. 

"We should get out of here," he murmured, voice rough with something you refused to name.

You scoffed, even as your body betrayed you, already aching to follow him wherever he was about to lead. "Oh, and I suppose you just happen to have a place in mind?"

His smirk was immediate, cocky as ever. "Darlin’, I always have a plan."

The arrogance sent a fresh spark of irritation through you, tamping down the heat pooling low in your stomach. You pushed against his chest, though it wasn’t nearly as forceful as it should have been. 

"Jesus, Hangman, do you ever turn it off?"

"Not when I’m winning," he shot back, and that stupidly cocky grin widening.

Your eyes narrowed. "This isn’t a game."

Jake tilted his head, taking his sweet time looking you up and down, his hands still resting on your hips like he had every right to touch you. 

"Then why," he murmured, voice low and smooth as honey, "does it feel like you’re losing?"

Your pulse slammed against your ribs. He was insufferable. Absolutely unbearable.

And you were going home with him.

God help you.

The drive to Jake’s place was tense, thick with something neither of you was willing to name. You sat in the passenger seat of his truck, arms crossed tight over your chest, gaze fixed on the road ahead as if you weren’t acutely aware of him beside you. As if every nerve in your body wasn’t tuned to him. The way his fingers tapped against the steering wheel, the way he shifted gears with that effortless, cocky ease, the way his tongue flicked over his bottom lip like he was savoring the anticipation.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It was loaded.

You exhaled sharply, shifting in your seat. "Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna keep glancing at me like a damn creep?"

Jake huffed a laugh, glancing at you sideways. "Oh, sweetheart, I was gonna let you sit there and stew, but since you’re practically begging me to talk…"

Your head whipped toward him, eyes narrowing. "I am not—"

"Admit it," he cut in smoothly, lips curving into a smirk. "You like this. You like me."

You let out a bark of laughter, turning back toward the windshield. "You’re delusional."

Jake clicked his tongue, shifting gears again. "That so?"

"Yes," you snapped, but it lacked bite. 

Maybe because his hand had just settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, his thumb brushing idly against your jeans.

It was infuriating how casual he was about it, like he did this all the time like he knew you wouldn’t push him away. And the worst part? He was right.

You glared down at his hand but didn’t move it. 

"I hate you," you muttered, more to yourself than him.

Jake chuckled, squeezing your thigh just slightly, sending a slow wave of heat curling up your spine. 

"Sure, sweetheart," he drawled. "Keep tellin’ yourself that."

You clenched your jaw, staring straight ahead, determined not to react. You could not let him win this round.

But then he leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur, right against your ear. 

"I bet," he said, his breath fanning warm over your skin, "that by the time we get to my place, you’re gonna be begging me to ruin you."

Your stomach clenched. Your breath caught.

You turned sharply toward him, ready to rip into him, to tell him exactly where he could shove his ego. But one look at his smug, knowing expression, and suddenly, the only thing you wanted more than to slap him was to kiss him.

Jake barely had the truck in park before you were unbuckling your seatbelt, ready to throw the door open and escape the suffocating tension between you. But before you could make your move, his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

"Uh-uh," he murmured, voice like silk and sin. "Not so fast, sweetheart."

You turned, mouth already open to argue, but whatever insult you had locked and loaded died in your throat when you saw his face.

Jake looked at you like he was savoring every second of your frustration, drinking in the flush creeping up your neck, the way your lips parted just slightly as you struggled for a retort. His grip on your wrist was firm but not tight, thumb ghosting over your pulse, which, much to your horror, was racing.

You swallowed hard, yanking your arm free. "Are we going inside, or are you just gonna sit here looking smug all night?"

Jake grinned, slow and cocky, before pushing open his door. 

"Oh, we’re goin’ inside," he said, stepping out like he had all the time in the world.

You inhaled sharply, willing yourself to get a grip, then followed suit, slamming the truck door a little harder than necessary. You stomped up the walkway behind him, practically vibrating with the need to do something. You didn’t even care what. Punch him, kiss him, you just needed something.

Jake reached the door first, unlocking it with ease, but instead of stepping aside to let you in, he turned, leaning against the doorframe.

"Last chance to back out, darlin’," he murmured, voice low, teasing.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as your body screamed at you to get closer. "Like you would let me live that down."

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I’d never let you live it down," he agreed, then tilted his head, eyes dark and burning with something that made your stomach twist. "But we both know you don’t want to back out."

And just like that, you snapped.

Grabbing the front of his shirt, you yanked him down, crashing your mouth against his.

Jake groaned, deep and satisfied, as if he’d known this was coming. He let you take control for a split second before flipping the script, crowding you into the door, hands gripping your hips like he was staking a claim.

The kiss was fire and fury, all teeth and tongue. His hands roamed, rough and sure, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

You pulled back just enough to gasp, "God, I hate you."

Jake grinned against your lips, fingers curling into your waistband. "Yeah?" His voice was pure arrogance. "Show me, then."

The door had barely clicked shut before Jake had you backed against it, his body flush against yours, heat radiating off him in waves. His lips found yours again, just as greedy, just as needy as before, like he’d been starving for this and now that he had a taste, he wasn’t letting go.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, and he groaned against your mouth, low and rough, before yanking the fabric over his head and tossing it aside like it was offending him.

"Jesus, Hangman," you muttered, taking in the broad planes of his chest, the way his muscles flexed as he ran a hand through his already tousled hair.

He smirked, stepping back into your space, hands finding your waist again. "Was wonderin’ when you’d finally admit you liked lookin’ at me, sweetheart."

You scoffed, shoving at his chest. "I don’t."

Jake caught your wrist mid-shove, his grip firm, the heat of his palm branding against your skin. "Liar," he murmured, and then he spun you, pressing you against the door, his chest flush against your back.

Your breath hitched.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear. "You know what I think?"

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Jake chuckled, feeling your stubborn silence. "I think you like it when I get under your skin," he continued, voice thick as honey, hand sliding along your arm before settling at your hip. "I think you like fightin’ me ‘cause it makes this—" he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, biting down just enough to make your fingers twitch—"so much better."

You shivered.

"Tell me I’m wrong," he murmured, lips trailing lower.

You hated him. You hated how right he was. How much you wanted this, wanted him.

So instead of answering, you turned, grabbing his face and pulling him into another kiss, swallowing his smug little chuckle as you pushed him backward.

Jake let you lead—at least for a few steps—until the backs of his knees hit the couch, and he took advantage of your forward momentum, twisting you both so you tumbled down with him.

You gasped as you landed in his lap, his hands immediately finding your thighs, fingers digging in just enough to make you ache.

"Well, would you look at that," he drawled, looking up at you with pure, unfiltered arrogance. "Right where you wanna be."

Your glare was instant, but whatever insult you were about to hurl at him got lost in the way his hands slid up, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin at your hips, his gaze dark and knowing.

"Say it," he murmured, voice softer this time. "Say you want this."

You exhaled sharply, fingers threading into his hair, pulling just enough to make him grunt.

"Jake—"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

You clenched your jaw, breath coming short and fast.

"I hate you," you whispered, leaning down, lips brushing against his.

Jake grinned. "That so?"

You nodded, eyes locked on his.

"Good," he murmured, tilting his head up to kiss you again, all teeth and heat. "Hate me all you want." His fingers dug into your hips, his voice dropping to a growl. "Just don’t stop."

His hands, hot and steady against your hips, didn’t push—didn’t take the way you half-expected him to. Instead, he just looked at you, gaze flickering over your face like he was memorizing the way you looked right then—cheeks flushed, lips kiss bruised, breathing heavy.

You swallowed, suddenly too aware of the weight of his hands, the heat of his body beneath you. "What?" you muttered, shifting slightly in his lap.

Jake’s fingers flexed at your waist, his jaw tightening like he was holding something back. Then his eyes lifted to meet yours.

"Want me to take this off, sweetheart?" he murmured, toying with the hem of your shirt, voice softer than before. More careful.

Your breath caught.

You weren’t sure what surprised you more. The fact that he asked or the fact that it sent a different kind of heat through you. Something deeper. Something that settled low in your stomach, curling tight.

"You don’t have to ask," you muttered, trying to ignore the way your pulse was suddenly hammering against your ribs.

Jake huffed a quiet laugh, one hand leaving your waist to push a strand of hair from your face, thumb grazing your cheek for just a second longer than necessary. "Yeah, I do."

And that? That threw you. Because it wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t teasing. It was real. For a split second, it wasn’t about the fight, the tension, or the way you constantly tried to push each other’s buttons.

It was just him.

Your throat felt tight, and you hated it. Hated that something so simple made your stomach flip.

But you still lifted your arms.

Jake didn’t hesitate after that, peeling your shirt off in one smooth motion and tossing it somewhere over his shoulder. But then he stopped again, and Jesus Christ, the way his eyes raked over you, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, the way his breath shuddered just slightly. It made your skin prickle and made heat lick up your spine.

For the first time that night, you didn’t have some sharp remark ready.

And Jake noticed.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as his hands skimmed up your sides, settling just beneath the band of your bra. 

"Well, would you look at that," he murmured, eyes dragging back up to yours. "Speechless."

Your glare was instant, but before you could snap at him, his grip tightened, pulling you closer, lips brushing against your jaw as he murmured, "And beautiful."

And just like that, he shattered every thought in your head.

Jake's fingers trailed up your spine, slow and deliberate, making you shiver before they settled on the clasp of your bra. He didn’t rush. There was no quick practiced flick like you might have expected. Instead, he lingered, thumbs tracing idle circles against your skin, his breath warm against the hollow of your throat.

"You good?" He murmured, lips brushing against your collarbone, his voice lower now, less teasing, almost gentle.

You swallowed hard. You weren’t used to this side of him, the part that asked, the part that wasn’t all sharp-edged arrogance and cocky smirks.

"Yeah," you muttered, but your voice was quieter now, and that was enough for him to notice.

Jake hummed like he wasn’t quite convinced, but he popped the clasp anyway, dragging the straps down your arms with an almost painful slowness before finally tossing it aside.

Heat bloomed across your chest, your arms twitching with the instinct to cover yourself, but before you could even think about being shy, Jake’s hands were there, skimming up your ribs, curling around your wrists to stop you.

"Nuh uh," he murmured, his grip firm but warm, his thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, dragged over every inch of you, taking his damn time like he was committing every detail to memory.

"Jake," you started, but your voice wavered, and you hated how small it sounded.

His gaze flicked back to yours immediately, something sharp flashing behind all that heat. "Don’t," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Don’t get shy on me now."

You huffed, shifting slightly in his lap trying to grasp at something. Control, defiance…anything. But then his hands were back tracing up your sides, his thumbs skimming just beneath your breasts. His eyes were locked on yours.

Your stomach flipped, and God you wanted to look away. You wanted to fight the way your heart was hammering against your ribs. But then his hands slid higher, fingers splaying wide across your ribcage holding you there.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he murmured, and it was so genuine and unguarded that it nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Jake Seresin. Cocky, arrogant, never shuts the hell up Jake was looking at you like you like you were the best damn thing he’d ever seen.  Like he’d imagined this a hundred times over but now that you were here, in his lap, chest rising and falling under his hands, he was afraid to blink in case he woke up and it was all gone.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze dragging over every inch of you with a hunger that wasn’t just lust, it was something more, something you didn’t quite know what to do with.

“Fuck,” he muttered almost to himself, his head tipping back against the couch for just a second before he looked at you again. 

His pupils were blown wide, his breath uneven and God you’d never seen him like this. It was like you had him completely undone without even trying.

His hands moved then, fingertips tracing the delicate curve of your waist before sliding up, fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice rough. “How long I’ve wanted you like this.”

A slow, satisfied smirk curled at the corner of your lips as you took him in. You slid your hands into his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers as you gave a firm tug. His breath hitched, his grip tightening instinctively, but he let you guide him, tilting his head back until his chin rested against your sternum.

His lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling beneath you, the sharp angles of his jaw and throat bathed in the warm glow of the lamp beside the couch. He was completely at your mercy, and fuck, you liked the way that felt.

You leaned down, slow and deliberate, until your breath ghosted over his parted lips, your nose barely brushing his. His hands twitched on your waist, but he didn’t move. He was waiting. Watching. Wanting.

A smug little hum left your lips, and you let your fingers tighten just slightly in his hair as you murmured, “Well, Hangman… you finally got what you wanted.” You dragged your lips down, grazing along the sharp edge of his jaw, feeling the way his pulse jumped beneath your mouth. Then you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again, voice turning to a whisper. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His hands flexed against you, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes locked onto yours as if you’d just lit a match and dropped it into a trail of gasoline.

Then he grinned, lazy and sharp, green eyes dark with intent.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick with promise as his fingers skimmed higher, teasing along your spine. “You have no idea.”

One second you were in control, straddling his lap with hands in his hair. The next his hands slid down gripping the backs of your thighs as he stood, lifting you like you weighed nothing.

A startled gasp left your lips, hands flying to his shoulders as he adjusted his grip, his fingers pressing firmly into the curve of your ass to keep you steady. His smirk was downright insufferable as he took a few steps toward the hallway, completely unfazed by your sudden shift in position.

“Jesus, Hangman—” you started, but he only chuckled, the sound vibrating against your chest as he carried you with ease.

“What?” he drawled, like this wasn’t affecting him in the slightest. “You wanted to know what I was going to do.”

Your stomach fluttered at the effortless strength in his hold, but you rolled your eyes, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Instead, you crossed your arms loosely around his neck, leaning in just enough to murmur, “You know, you don’t have to carry me.”

Jake slowed just slightly, glancing down at you with something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “You sayin’ you don’t like it?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening against the nape of his neck.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like it. If anything, you liked it too much. But there was something about being held like this—about the way he handled you so effortlessly, so casually—that poked at an old insecurity buried deep in the back of your mind.

Guys like Jake Seresin always went for the kind of girls who looked effortless in their arms, who didn’t overthink the way they were being held, who didn’t worry about whether or not they were too heavy or too much.

Your silence must have said more than you intended, because Jake’s hold on you tightened just slightly, his smirk fading into something softer.

His voice dropped, quieter than before. “Darlin’.”

You swallowed, avoiding his gaze. “I just—” You huffed a short breath, shaking your head like you could physically dismiss the thought. “I’m not some dainty little thing, okay? You don’t have to—”

“Stop.” His tone left no room for argument, and before you could protest, he adjusted his grip, bouncing you slightly in his arms as if to prove a point. “You really think I’d be doin’ this if I couldn’t handle it?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Jake exhaled sharply, shaking his head before dipping down just enough to catch your gaze. His eyes were serious now, all teasing gone. “I like carrying you,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “And not just ‘cause I can, but because I want to.”

Your breath caught, a different kind of warmth blooming in your chest, one that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with the way he was looking at you.

He tightened his hold, tilting his head with a smirk that was softer than before, but still undeniably him. “Now, you gonna let me take you to my bed, or you wanna keep pretendin’ you don’t like this?”

Your heart stuttered, fingers gripping the back of his neck as you huffed, finally letting your head drop against his shoulder.

“Fine,” you muttered, and you could feel his smirk against your temple.

“That’s my girl.”

And with that, he carried you the rest of the way, leaving no room for argument.

Jake nudged the door open with his foot, the hinges creaking slightly as he carried you inside. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the space. His bed which was big, unmade, and ridiculously inviting was only a few steps away, but he didn’t rush. If anything, he seemed to savor the moment, taking his time as he moved toward it.

You felt the muscles in his arms flex as he shifted his grip, lowering you onto the mattress with deliberate care. His hands lingered for just a second longer than necessary, fingertips trailing lightly along your sides before he straightened to stand over you.

The air between you was thick, charged with something that was no longer just heated banter and reckless tension. This was something else. Something weightier.

Jake’s green eyes raked over you, dark and unreadable, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “You look good like that, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges.

Your stomach clenched, your breath coming a little quicker as you propped yourself up on your elbows. “You just gonna stand there and stare, Seresin?” you teased, but the slight hitch in your voice gave you away.

His lips curled, but there was something softer behind the smirk this time. “You in a hurry?”

You swallowed, pulse hammering. “I—”

Before you could finish, Jake was moving. He crawled onto the bed, hands bracing on either side of your hips as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours.

“You got nowhere to be,” he murmured, the words a slow drawl against your lips. “So why don’t you let me take my time?”

A shiver rolled through you, but you forced yourself to keep your expression even. “You always this much of a tease?”

Jake chuckled, the sound low and indulgent. “Only when I got something worth taking my time with.”

Your breath caught, but you refused to let him see how easily he unraveled you. Instead, you reached up, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to earn a soft grunt from him. “Stop talking and do something about it, Hangman.”

Jake’s weight pressed you into the mattress, his hands roaming slowly and deliberately as his lips ghosted over your collarbone. Every touch sent heat curling through your stomach, every kiss stoking the fire that had been burning between you since the second he’d crowded into your space outside The Hard Deck.

His hands drifted lower, skimming the line of your jeans, fingers toying with the button as he watched your face.

He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “You gonna let me take these off, or you wanna fight me on it?”

You huffed a breath, fingers still buried in his hair. “What do you think?”

Jake grinned like he already knew the answer, but he still waited. Waited for the tiny nod you gave him, the permission you offered without hesitation. Only then did he move.

The sound of your zipper being undone was deafening in the quiet of the room, your breath catching as he dragged the denim down, slow enough to make you squirm.

He chuckled, low and knowing. “You always this impatient?”

You lifted your hips, helping him rid you of the last piece of clothing between you, and shot him a look. “You always this slow?”

Jake’s eyes darkened. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you want me rushing this.”

His hands traced up the length of your legs, teasing, exploring, his touch sending little sparks dancing along your skin. And then his fingers dug into your thighs, parting them just enough for him to settle between them.

That cocky smirk never wavered as he leaned in, his breath hot against your jaw. “Told you,” he murmured. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

Jake’s lips found the inside of your knee first. His lips were soft and teasing as they brushed your skin. His hands ran up your thighs, squeezing, but his mouth followed at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Your breath hitched as he kissed higher, his lips trailing a warm path along your skin. Every inch of you was tense with anticipation, waiting, bracing, needing.

He was right there. Right. There.

And then he exhaled a laugh against your skin, his breath warm and taunting, before shifting away to press his mouth to your other thigh instead.

Your hands fisted in the sheets. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Jake looked up at you through his lashes, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

Your head fell back against the pillows with an exasperated groan. “You’re insufferable.”

He hummed in agreement, his mouth continuing its slow, torturous exploration. His hands slid under your thighs, gripping tight, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“You love it,” he murmured against your skin, voice dripping with amusement.

You wanted to argue, but then his teeth grazed the soft skin of your inner thigh, just enough to make you gasp, and suddenly, words weren’t coming so easily anymore.

Jake's teasing had you teetering on the edge of frustration and something far more desperate. He knew exactly what he was doing. Drawing it out, making you squirm, feeding off every sharp breath and roll of your hips. But just when you were about to snap at him again, his lips finally ghosted over where you needed him most.

A strangled sound caught in your throat as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss against you, his tongue flicking out just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling harder than necessary, but if anything, it only spurred him on.

For once, you were grateful Jake Seresin never shut the hell up because he really knew how to use that mouth.

His tongue worked in slow, devastating strokes, a perfect rhythm that had your back arching off the bed in seconds. He groaned against you, the vibrations sinking deep into your bones, and it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your stomach.

“Jake—” His name slipped from your lips before you could stop it, breathless and wrecked.

“That’s it,” he murmured against you, his voice smug and husky. His grip on your thighs tightened. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

Jake was relentless.

Every time you thought he was going to give you what you needed—really give it to you—he’d slow down, change rhythm, pull back just enough to keep you on the edge but never quite over it.

It was maddening.

Your legs trembled beneath his hands, every nerve in your body burning with frustration. He was drawing it out on purpose, keeping you right where he wanted, his mouth and tongue working you into a fever pitch only to ease up the second your muscles tensed, the moment you got too close.

You let out a frustrated groan, fingers tugging at his hair in a warning. “Jake.”

A hum vibrated against you—satisfied, entertained—but he didn’t relent. He kept up his slow torture, his tongue pressing in firm, deliberate strokes, his lips ghosting over you with just enough pressure to make you crazy.

“Fuck, I swear to—”

But just when you were ready to snap, just when the tension in your stomach coiled tight enough to break, he pulled away.

You gasped, blinking down at him in disbelief, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “Are you—”

He grinned, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth as he settled between your legs, looking so damn smug it made you want to throttle him. “Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

Your glare could’ve burned a hole straight through him. “I hate you.”

His hands smoothed up your thighs, fingers kneading into your skin as he leaned up, his lips hovering just over yours. His breath was warm when he spoke. “No, you don’t.”

And then, just to drive the point home, he slid two fingers between your legs, pressing into you with the same slow, torturous precision.

Your breath hitched, your head falling back against the pillows. He chuckled against your jaw, lips brushing your pulse. “See? You love me.”

Your body betrayed you before you even had time to think of a comeback. Your hips rolled instinctively, seeking out more friction, chasing what he’d been cruelly holding just out of reach.

Jake groaned, low and rough, his fingers still deep inside you as he watched, transfixed. His free hand splayed across your hip, feeling the way you moved against him, the way your body took what it wanted.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, voice thick with something dangerously close to awe. “So goddamn greedy for it.”

Heat flooded your face, but embarrassment never stood a chance against the need coursing through you. You didn’t stop—couldn’t stop—even as his eyes dragged over every inch of you, taking in the way you worked yourself against his hand, the soft whimpers slipping past your lips.

Jake fucking loved it.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his fingers curling just right, pressing exactly where you needed. His mouth found your throat, teeth scraping against sensitive skin before soothing it with his tongue. “Use me. Get yourself there.”

Your stomach clenched, muscles tightening as that coil in your core wound impossibly tighter. Every stroke of his fingers sent sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, and the way he watched you like he’d never seen anything more stunning only drove you higher.

You were close. Too close.

And Jake knew it.

His lips brushed your ear, his voice a rasped promise.

"That’s it, baby. Come for me."

There was no question in his tone just certainty, confidence, command. Like he already knew you would, like you had no choice but to obey.

His fingers never faltered, his pace steady, relentless, pushing you closer and closer until there was no stopping it. Your body tensed, every nerve lighting up as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach, ready to snap.

"Jake—" His name tore from your lips, a desperate, breathless cry as the release hit you, hard and all-consuming.

He groaned, low and satisfied like your pleasure was his own personal victory. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, working you through it, dragging out every last wave, every aftershock, until you were trembling beneath him.

His hands never stopped moving, slow and teasing now, like he was savoring the way you came undone for him. His lips ghosted over your hip, smug but reverent. "Damn, baby," he drawled, watching you with something almost like admiration. "That was real pretty."

Jake made quick work of his jeans and boxers, shedding the last of his clothing without a second thought. His confidence was effortless like he had no doubt in his mind that you'd want him just as much as he wanted you.

Crawling back onto the bed, he took you in, his hands smoothing over your skin, possessive and reverent all at once. Then, in one fluid motion, he flipped you over. You barely had time to react before he was guiding you forward. Instinctively, you pushed up onto your forearms, shifting to all fours, but Jake had other plans.

He let out a low chuckle, running his hands down your spine before gripping your hips and pulling you back against him. 

"Not like that, sweetheart." His voice was rough, heavy with want.

Before you could question him, he slid a firm hand between your shoulder blades and pressed down, guiding you back down to the mattress. Your cheek met the sheets, your back arching instinctively under the pressure of his touch.

"There you go," he murmured, his voice all smug satisfaction. "Much better."

Jake’s grip on your hips tightened as he aligned himself with you, his body hovering just above yours. His breath was shallow, and you could feel the heat of him so close, yet not enough to satisfy the aching tension between you both.

With a slight shift of his weight, he brought his hand down on your ass with a sharp, satisfying slap. The sound of it echoed in the quiet room, making your body jump forward at the contact. You let out a small yelp, the sting sending a rush of heat through your veins, mixing with the desire that had been building all night.

You glanced over your shoulder, your chest rising and falling quickly. "What was that for?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though your voice gave away the sudden, surprised pleasure.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear, "Because I can."

You opened your mouth to snap back, to say something, anything to regain some control in this situation, but before you could get a word out, Jake shifted his weight and pushed forward, the feeling of him filling you completely. The words you’d been about to say caught in your throat, replaced by a breathless moan as he stretched you in ways that sent your body reeling.

Your back arched, and your grip on the sheets tightened as you fought to stay composed, but the pleasure of him inside you was too overwhelming. The cocky grin on Jake’s face was evident, even as he moved slowly, savoring the moment just as much as you were.

Jake’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he began to increase his pace. The sounds of his breath, sharp and steady, mixed with the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, filling the air between you. Each thrust had you gasping, your body rocked forward with every press, his rhythm pushing you further toward the edge.

With every stroke, you felt him deeper, filling you completely. The intensity of it had you gasping for air, your heart racing in time with the beat of your pulse. And for a split second, amidst the rush of sensation, a thought flashed through your mind—Why the hell hadn’t you done this before?

The idea lingered for a heartbeat, but Jake’s hand moved to your back, pressing you down into the sheets, and that fleeting thought was gone as quickly as it had come. All that was left was the heat, the pressure building inside you, and the undeniable pull of him—his rhythm, his touch, the way he moved inside you, the way his breath caught when he pulled you closer, driving deeper.

Jake could feel the way your body clenched around him, the tightening of your muscles making him groan, his rhythm faltering for just a second. He had been watching you, noticing the way your moans had shifted from his name into breathless nonsense, and he could tell you were on the verge of losing it.

With a smirk curling at the corner of his lips, he leaned down, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “You’re about to come, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, low, and cocky, but there was a softness to it that sent a shiver down your spine. “Damn, baby. You sound so fucking good. I’m gonna make sure you remember this.”

His hand slid down your body, fingers pressing into your lower stomach, feeling the way your muscles tensed and quivered, and that only made him press harder, driving deeper with each thrust.

Jake could feel the way you were unraveling beneath him, and he couldn’t help but let out a low laugh, knowing he was the one pulling these sounds from you. He was the one making you lose control. There was nothing like this—the power, the rush of it—and hell, he fucking loved it.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice rougher now, “I’m not letting you go until I’ve got every last sound out of you.”

Your breath hitched at his words, a soft whimper escaping your lips without meaning to. It was just enough to fuel Jake further, his grip on your hips tightening, his thrusts becoming harder, more determined. He heard the sound you made, felt the way it vibrated in your chest, and that drove him wild.

“God, you like that, don’t you?” Jake murmured the cocky edge to his voice sharper now. He moved faster, his rhythm relentless, as if he was determined to make you fall apart in front of him.

The sound of his name left your lips again, a whimpering gasp this time, and Jake couldn’t help but smile against your back.

“I knew you’d be this responsive,” he said with a breathless chuckle, “Just let go for me, baby. Let me hear it.”

The way your body responded to him, so soft and needy, only made him push harder. Each sound you made, every tremor that ran through you, sent a wave of satisfaction crashing over him. He couldn’t get enough, his need for you only growing as he felt you getting closer, his hands tightening on your hips as he set the pace.

You were almost there, and he knew it. And that, more than anything, was what had him pushing to give you exactly what you needed.

Jake’s movements were growing more erratic, his control slipping as the pressure inside him built. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, every muscle in his body tense and straining with the need to finish. But he wasn’t going to let go just yet. Not without one more from you.

You were a mess beneath him, breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps, your body trembling as you met each of his thrusts. The way you felt, the sounds you were making…everything about you was driving him wild. 

He tightened his grip on your hips, pulling you back against him as he pushed harder, faster. “One more, baby,” he growled. “Give it to me.”

He didn’t ask; he commanded, his voice rough and demanding, as if there was no room for hesitation. His breath was coming in hot, heavy bursts against your skin as he drove you both closer to the edge. 

He needed to hear you. Needed to see you fall apart again.

“Don’t hold back. Let go for me,” he growled, his voice almost a low, possessive growl as he felt the last thread of his restraint snap.

Your body finally gave way, the tension that had been building between you two snapping as you let go. A sharp cry tore from your throat, your body shuddering under him as your release hit. The pressure and pleasure of it all flooded your senses, and you collapsed onto the bed, breathless and spent. Your legs shook, your mind hazy with the aftermath of what he had just pulled from you.

Jake’s movements faltered for a moment, his rhythm becoming more desperate and sloppy as he chased his own release. His grip on your hips tightened, but his breath was heavier, ragged now, his body trembling against you.

“Where do you want it?” He muttered.

It was then that the weight of it all clicked for you.

Your chest heaved with exertion as you finally managed to get your thoughts together, eyes widening slightly. You gasped, the realization dawning. You hadn’t even thought about the condom. You hadn’t talked about it.

“Jake,” you murmured, still breathless, trying to collect yourself enough to speak clearly. “I’m on birth control.”

The words had barely left your mouth before he groaned low and deep, and in the next moment, he surged forward, driving himself all the way into you, his pace finally faltering as he pushed to the brink. His fingers dug into your skin as he stilled, and then he let go with a final, possessive grunt. He filled you, the intensity of his release flooding you both, leaving you both trembling in the aftermath.

His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling as he slowly came back to himself. He stayed there, resting against you for a moment, his forehead resting against your back as the two of you tried to catch your breath. It felt almost like a release for him too. Not just physically but in the tension between you both that had been building for so long.

“Damn,” he muttered against your skin, his voice hoarse. “That was...”

He trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. You both knew exactly what it was.

Still, the weight of the moment hung in the air between you two. Neither of you moved immediately, just feeling each other’s presence, the exhaustion slowly taking over.

You sighed as you sat up, feeling the cool air against your skin as the heat of Jake’s body left you. Your limbs felt heavy, your body spent, but you forced yourself to move, slipping off the bed and padding toward the bathroom.

Jake didn’t say anything as you went, just watched you go, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the room.

Inside the bathroom, you turned on the sink, splashing cool water on your face. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, lips were swollen, the lingering evidence of Jake’s touch still visible on your skin. You exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the counter for a moment before straightening up.

This was…something. Whatever it was. And now, in the quiet of Jake’s bedroom, the weight of what came next started to settle over you.

By the time you emerged, Jake was pulling on a pair of sweats, his movements slower, more languid now. You grabbed your underwear and the oversized shirt he had tossed your way earlier, slipping them on before crawling back into bed beside him.

It was quiet now. The charged energy from before had settled into something softer, something heavier. You lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling, your mind drifting as the reality of tomorrow pressed in.

Beside you, Jake shifted. He propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze settling on you. You felt it before you saw it. The weight of his stare, studying you, tracing over your features like he was trying to memorize them.

“What?” you asked, your voice softer than before.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable but intent. Finally, after a beat, he murmured, “You’re worried about tomorrow. About me..”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Your breath caught slightly, but you didn’t respond. You just swallowed, keeping your gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Jake exhaled through his nose, a quiet sound in the stillness of the room. “You’re gonna tell me to be safe, aren’t you?”

Your throat tightened.

“Just…” you swallowed again, voice barely above a whisper. “Just come back alive, Jake.”

The teasing smirk he had worn all night. Hell, the one he wore all the damn time faded. Something more real passed over his face, something softer, something unspoken.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You finally turned your head to look at him, and for the first time, neither of you had anything smart to say.

You just held each other’s gaze, both thinking the same thing.

Jake’s fingers lingered against yours, his touch warm but tentative. You weren’t sure how long the two of you just lay there like that staring at each other in the dim light of his bedroom, words unspoken but understood.

Then, slowly, he shifted.

He leaned in, his nose brushing yours, his lips barely ghosting over yours in a way that wasn’t cocky or teasing or demanding. It was softer. Almost hesitant.

You could feel the way he exhaled against your lips like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. Like maybe this, whatever this was, was throwing him off just as much as it was throwing you off.

His lips pressed to yours, just for a second. Just enough to make your breath hitch. And then he pulled back, hovering so close you could still feel him.

The quiet stretched between you, not uncomfortable, but heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. You stared at the ceiling, your mind drifting, already trying to brace for the morning.

You turned your head, glancing at him in the dim light. He looked so at ease, so different from the cocky, sharp-tongued pilot you had spent so much time arguing with. His expression was softer now, the teasing smirk gone, replaced by something quieter.

You exhaled slowly, the tension in your body unraveling as you shifted closer, tucking yourself into his side. His arm draped over you, and you let your head rest against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

His free hand rested on his stomach, and without thinking, yours followed, finding it easily in the dark. Your fingers brushed his, tentative at first like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to reach for him. Like you weren’t sure if this was something you were even supposed to want.

But Jake didn’t hesitate. His fingers curled around yours, lacing them together like it was second nature. Like holding your hand was as easy as breathing.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you had to.

The weight of the morning still lingered in the air, but for now, just for this moment, you let yourself have this.

Let yourself have him for just a little longer.

Jake’s breathing evened out long before yours did. His arm was still draped over you, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you into something that almost felt like peace. Almost. But no matter how hard you tried to ground yourself in the warmth of his skin, in the weight of his hand still tangled with yours, your mind kept drifting.

You stared up at the ceiling, the quiet pressing in.

And I'll ask the stars at night, how I can slow the time…

The words echoed in your head, unspoken but heavy in your chest. The night felt too short, slipping through your fingers no matter how tightly you tried to hold onto it.

Your grip on Jake’s hand tightened just slightly like that alone could keep him here. Keep him safe.

But you knew it wouldn’t.

God, I’m so terrified that I’m gonna lose you.

You turned your head, your gaze tracing the sharp lines of his face softened in sleep. His brows weren’t furrowed for once. His mouth, the same mouth that had spent the night pressing cocky remarks against your skin, was relaxed.

He looked peaceful. Like he didn’t have to wake up in just a few hours and walk into the unknown. Like he wasn’t about to get into a jet and disappear into the sky, leaving you behind to wonder if you’d ever see him again.

And I’ll die if I do.

Your throat tightened, your chest aching under the weight of everything you weren’t saying. Everything you wouldn’t say.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this. Weren’t supposed to want him to stay. Weren’t supposed to feel like the world was tilting beneath you at the thought of him not coming back.

But you did.

And that scared you more than anything else.

So you did the only thing you could. You curled further into him, pressed your face against his shoulder, and let your fingers stay laced with his. Holding onto him for just a little longer.

Just in case.

[canarias-stuff]

Reaching You

Sung Jin-Woo X F!Reader

Summary:

“What the hell?!” You cried, more tears falling down. “You said that you would come back soon! So why?!”

“Wait! (Y/n)! I swear I can explain!”

“What happened with the gates?! And the war?!”

You could feel Jin-Woo panicking at your questions, but the dam was broken. You couldn’t stop.

“Why are we sixteen again?! Why do I have to study math again?!”

“...really (y/n)…?”

...

Or a story where you dreams of a world not so different from yours, but you know that you are missing something...no, someone.

(Sung Jin-Woo X F!Reader)

Author's note:

My second story for the fandom.

I started it a while ago, but I didn't know how to end it.^^''

And after struggling a little bit, this is the result.

I hope that you enjoy it!

You were 13 when the dreams started.

At first, they were short – so short you could barely remember the contents, but as the time passed, you felt like you had lived the dream for days instead of just a night. You dreamed of a world that's not so different from the real one, where people you know – family, friends and even some that you don’t know personally – are there.

Maybe you’d been watching too many American shows or playing too many video games, because each time you dreamed about this strange world, it became more vivid, more detailed.

Your dreamworld has a touch of magic and fantasy, and even if you couldn’t always remember the specifics, you were sure that at some point you were fighting against monsters inside what they called ‘gates’. There was also a rank system for those gates and for the people who fought inside them, there were guilds and something called Hunter’s Association, and even if you can’t remember everything, you are sure that you aren’t part of any organization.

One thing that you can remember though, is that something…no, someone is missing from your memories. Well, not actually missing, however there’s someone beside you in your dreams, someone that smiles at you, holds your hands, kisses you and makes you really happy, yet, no matter how hard you try, you can’t recall their face or the sound of their voice when they call your name.

And every time they appeared in your dreams, you’d wake up crying.

Was it stupid to miss someone you could only see in dreams? Someone your own brain had invented?

Yes , that’s what you told yourself. This person was just a figment of your imagination – born from all those novels you read. So why did it hurt so much every time? Why did your chest ache for someone whose face you couldn’t remember?

Once, you told your best friend about your dreams. Your friend laughed and patted you on the back.

“Woah! Did you fall for this mysterious person from your dreams?”

“Of course not!”

You felt embarrassed at the accusation, but if you were embarrassed about your dreams or about the part where you fell in love with someone that doesn't exist, you weren’t sure.

You also commented about your dreams to your family one morning and while your mother and older brother made fun of you, your father frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, you must have loved this person a lot.” Your mother said, while preparing the breakfast.

“Your brain is probably melting after reading so much garbage!” Your irritating older brother laughed.

“If you have free time to read novels (y/n), use it for your studies.”

And really, while your father’s comment was more of a “If you start to get red marks, I will burn all your novels.” warning, you decided that you should do as he said and study more – occupy your brain with numbers, formulas and historical events – because that way, your brain may decide to make you dream about possible questions for a test instead of making you miss someone that you only imagined.

…

“You are going there.”

“...I am…”

“It doesn’t matter what I say, right?”

“I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You sighed, but in the end you looked up to stare at his determined eyes, and smiled.

“You better come back soon.”

He smiled and wrapped his arms around you, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“I will. It’s a promise.”

And then, he turned around to leave, while all you could do was extend your hand and try – and fail – to hold him for just a little longer.

…

You woke up with an arm extended, grabbing the air. Again.

Since the start of your last year of middle school, the dreams haven't come as frequently as before. But still, at least once a week, you would wake up with your hand outstretched – like you were trying to hold onto something. Or someone. Just like now.

You never told a soul about this, not when you were sure that people – your best friend and family – would make fun of you.

But now that you’ve started high school, you wonder if this is progress. On one hand, you don’t wake up crying as often as before. On the other, you’ve started reaching out for this person. Still trying to grasp that person who never stayed – who probably never came back.

You stared at your arm for a moment before lowering it, a quiet sigh slipping from your lips.

And yet, for some reason, you felt warm. Like someone was still there, holding you.

…

“Have you heard about the rumor?” You heard one of the girls from your class say, from the desk right beside you.

“Oh! About the transfer student from class A?” The girl’s friend said.

“Yep! Someone said that he wears the glove only on his left hand because he has a tattoo there.”

You rolled your eyes at their conversation and kept reading the novel that you just found online. People had been gossiping about a student for almost two weeks now, and even though you hadn’t seen him yet, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. After all, who would want to be the talk of the school just because of their fashion sense?

“Actually, I heard from someone in class A that he is trying to hide a burn mark.”

A burn mark? You frowned, because that was new information.

“A burn mark? So he isn’t a delinquent?”

“I’m not sure, because someone heard a teacher say that he left home when he was still in junior high and came back after two years, but someone could have misheard it.”

“Well, let’s just stay away from him then.”

The other girl sighed, disappointed.

“What a shame, he does have a nice face though.”

And you rolled your eyes, trying to focus again on your novel as the girls shifted to another topic. People sure could be so petty.

…

Sometimes – actually it started just a few days after classes started –, you feel like someone’s watching you. But whenever you look around, there’s no one there, so you brush it off as nothing.

But today is different.

An ant was staring at you. 

A bipedal, human-like, black and blue ant was staring at you.

You tried to ignore it, continuing to eat your sandwich and chat with your best friend, as if the entity – it had to be some kind of ghost, right? – wasn’t there. It walked around you, moving with a strange, purposeful air, as though it was studying you.

And suddenly it fell to its knees and started crying.

“The appearance is slightly different, but this mana flow, this mana flow! There’s no doubt! Our queen is here! Our queen is here!”

You flinched. 

The ant is talking! The humanoid ant is fucking talking!

“Are you okay, (y/n)?” Your friend asked, when she saw you flinch.

“Hum? What?”

Your friend arched an eyebrow.

“You looked…distracted…”

Well, in your defense, it was difficult to keep focus when the ant kept crying…and talking nonsense beside you.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I was just wondering if I should go buy the novel that you recommended the other day.”

“I can just lend it to you!”

“Really? Thanks!” You exclaimed, trying to ignore the ant, that at some point got up and flew somewhere else, yelling something about telling the news to his king.

Ignore it, ignore it.

The weird creature was just a fragment of your imagination.

Yeah, just a fragment of my imagination…

But was it weird that for some reason you felt like you knew it?

…

“Queen.”

“Can you please stop calling me that, Beru?” You grunted, cheeks getting red. “It’s embarrassing!”

“But you are my king’s queen.”

Okay, that was way more embarrassing.

“Call me by my name!” You pleaded.

“How can a mere general call a queen by their name?”

“I’m not a queen so just call me (y/n)!”

“No, I can’t, my queen. I apologize.”

You turned to the man sitting at the sofa, who looked between you and the humanoid ant with an amused expression.

“Do something about it!” You cried, pointing at the giant ant.

“I tried, but he still calls me his king.” The man answered with a small laugh.

“Because you are my king.” The ant interrupted.

“Ugh…You really need to stop watching historical dramas, Beru.” You finally sighed and collapsed at the sofa, next to the amused man who just let out a small laugh and kissed you.

…

The ant was in your dreams this time.

For some reason, the ant called the stranger in your dream his king and you, his queen.

Really, it was embarrassing to be called that – and being kissed so gently –, but at least you got some new information.

The ant’s name was Beru.

“Beru..” You said. “What a weird name.”

…

After your encounter with the humanoid ant – Beru – just a few days ago, you started to notice other black and blue figures around.

Some were near the school gates, soldiers-like figures hidden in the shadows of trees, and others you could see around the neighbourhood, as if they were guarding and protecting the place.

Even if Beru’s figure had scared you a little, for some reason after your last dream, the feeling had gone away, and instead of getting uncomfortable with the shadow-like creatures, you felt strangely…safe.

…

Hah…yeah, safe…

Maybe you were so engrossed in the sense of safety the shadows provided that you completely forgot about reality.

You stared at the hand that was currently grabbing your wrist with a frown on your face. Once, your brother told you that high school was a jungle, where all kinds of species could be seen – football players, cheerleaders, basketball players, etc etc, and considering what was happening now, you agreed with your brother’s words.

These ones were probably the troublemakers/bully types.

“Aren’t you a first year?”

You looked up, (e/c) eyes glaring at the guy who grabbed your wrist and his two followers.

“Oh, you don’t have to look at us like that.” He – the leader (maybe?) – said with a smirk.

Really? How did you end up in this situation? You just went behind school to throw the trash after classes and ended up meeting with these three guys who were already there, up to no good. You didn’t say a word or look at any of them, but they still thought that it was an opportunity to try to pick up a girl.

“Like what?” You said without a hint of fear. “Like I'm seeing trash?”

Okay, maybe your choice of words were really poor considering the situation, but you were angry at the idiots who were trying to force themselves on you, and annoyed that you refused your friend's offer to help you with the trash.

“Hah?!” The leader roared, tightening his grip on your wrist. What did you just say, bitch?!”

“Oh? So you are deaf too?” You said, feigning a surprise expression.

You should have expected some violence.

The leader released your wrist just to push you at the wall by the collar of your shirt, and his followers surrounded you, eyes shining with malice, as if they just cornered a prey.

“I dare you to repeat that!” The leader roared.

You grabbed his wrist with both hands, (e/c) eyes never wavering at the sound of the clear threat

“Are. You. Deaf?”

The moment the guy clenched his other hand into a fist was the moment you twisted his wrist, slipping under his arm. The motion caused the first two buttons of your blouse to pop off – but it was worth it. He had no choice but to let go of your clothes, and in that instant, you threw him over your shoulder.

For a moment, everyone – even you – just stood there, trying to process what had just happened. You never learned how to fight, you didn’t even know that you had the strength to throw a guy twice your weight, but here you were, facing a bully and his followers, who somehow looked even more stunned than you.

However the surprise didn’t last long, and in a blink of an eye, the group had surrounded you again.

“That’s not fair.” You commented, eyeing the three guys walking around you.

“Life is not fair, girly.” One of his minions said with a smirk.

“You say it as if you have lived a long life.”

“This girl really doesn't know when to shut up, no?” Minion number one said.

“My friend said that I can talk for hours as long as I’m talking about my novels.” You continue. You need to buy some time, at least enough time to figure out how to get away from this situation, or until your friend realizes that you were taking too long to just throw the trash.

“Looks like your novels didn’t teach you to not pick up fights that you can’t win.” Number two minion laughed.

“Well, yeah, my novels usually focus more on romance, politics and family issues instead of people trying to pick fights with a girl who’s half their weight. These types of characters aren’t popular anyway.”

A vein popped at the leader’s forehead, and he tried to grab you again.

You don’t know how you did it. One moment, your feet were on the ground, and the next, you were in the air – upside down, hands planted on the top of the leader’s head, your body felt almost weightless. As you came down, you used his back as a stepping stone, pushing off and sending him crashing into his friends – while you landed gracefully on the ground.

You blinked, once more surprised with your fluid movements, as if you had done it all your life.

What the hell?!

“Now you asked for that, bitch!” The leader yelled and charged at you, at the same time as his minions.

Stunned by your own previous movements, you didn’t have time to dodge the sudden attack, all you could do was shut your eyes and brace for the impact. An impact that never came.

Instead, you heard people gasp in surprise and then, the “thud” of something hitting the ground.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, only to be met with the sight of someone’s back.

Your eyes went wide – for a second, the image of the person from your dreams overlapping with the stranger standing in front of you – but you quickly shook your head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. Right now, there were more important things to focus on, like the punks that were…attacking…you…?

You frowned, the three guys were laying on the ground, unconscious…

What just hap–?

“Are you okay?”

Gentle and calm, his voice interrupted your thoughts, but for some reason you felt your chest grow warm.

A gloved hand appeared in your line of sight – The student from the rumors, you couldn’t stop the thought – and you stared at it for a second, before accepting it.

“Thanks for the…”

But the words died in your throat the moment your (e/c) eyes met his. Yeah, you had heard the rumors – that he was handsome – but you hadn't known the details: the dark hair, the beautiful grey eyes and the small smile on his lips.

However…it wasn’t his features that made you lose the capacity to speak, but the sensation of familiarity, as if your brain was trying to remember something…someone…

The student was still holding your hand, so gently…as if you were something precious.

“(Y/n).”

The voice of the mysterious man from your dreams echoed in your mind and a face that you couldn’t remember was starting to take shape.

Your chest tightened and your eyes stung with tears that were ready to fall.

“Hey!” The stranger – Was he really a stranger? – cried, startled, as you collapsed to your knees, free hand clutching the front of your unbuttoned blouse.

Gates. Guilds. Monsters. Dungeons. A war.

“Hey! Are you hurt anywhere?!” He called again, panicking at your lack (or excess?) of reaction.

Dark hair. Grey eyes. A small smile.

His face wasn’t a blur anymore. You could see him clearly now.

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n)!”

Oh…he sounds younger, but it is still him.

“Y-you are la-late…” You muttered between sobs. “...Jin-Woo!”

You saw him flinch at the same time you felt his hand tighten around yours, but did you care? Not at all. The feelings that had been locked somewhere in your being – lost but not forgotten–, were running wild, and since the boy in front of you was the cause, he should take responsibility for that.

“What the hell?!” You cried, more tears falling down. “You said that you would come back soon! So why?!”

“Wait! (Y/n)! I swear I can explain!”

“What happened with the gates?! And the war?!”

You could feel Jin-Woo panicking at your questions, but the dam was broken. You couldn’t stop.

“Why are we sixteen again?! Why do I have to study math again?!”

“...really (y/n)…?”

You glared at him.

“I’m serious here!” You yelled frustrated, but soon the overwhelming sensation died as you stared at the man – now teenager – that you had always been waiting without knowing. “I really am, Jin-Woo…”

With your free hand, you cupped his face. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and savoring the warmth of your hand.

Jin-Woo...he looked so peaceful, as if the weight he once carried had finally lifted from his shoulders. And now that your memories have returned, you understand why.

In this world, there were no gates, no monsters.

Even if he still had his powers – and you were sure that he did, considering you had seen Beru and his other shadow soldiers around – he was free from the obligations and responsibilities he had once forced upon himself.

Sure, you were kind of angry at him, Jin-Woo had a lot to explain, but at the same time you felt relieved. Relieved that he was back.

“I missed you.” You finally said, a tearful – but still genuine – smile on your lips. “I missed you, Jin-Woo!”

You weren’t really surprised when he let go of your hands and pulled you into an embrace, after all, if he hadn’t, you would have.

“I missed you too, (y/n).” He whispered in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry for being late.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, returning the hug.

“It’s okay.” You said. “It’s okay.”

…

A few minutes later, your best friend found you – with red and puffy eyes – hugging Jin-Woo behind the building with three unconscious bodies scattered around you.

Did she freak out? Yes, she did. But just as you had told Jin-Woo. 

It was okay.

It really was.

Because you had finally reached him.

Ao3 link

Ending notes:

But anyway! I hope that you enjoyed it!^^

I am not sure if the end felt rushed, but the point of the story was the reader to finally remember and reach Jin-Woo instead of him explaning everything. I just wanted to them to meet again in a better world.^^

But, of course I had to make Reader fight a little bit. First, because I wanted to show that with her memories coming back reader could do things that she could do in the past. And second because I wanted Jin-Woo to appear out of nowhere like the "Exchange" scene! hahaha

See you!

P.S: English is not my native language, so sorry for possible grammar mistakes.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Angela’s younger sibling as a civilian

Angela Lopez x sibling!reader

warnings:

a/n: i will not be able to handle the finale of this season

prompt: anonymous: “If you write for Angela from the rookie would headcannons for “what being her civilian sibling would be like” be ok?”

angela is hella protective of you and for good reason

yes, you had 4 older brothers—but she was the one who always stood up for you

especially as kids

“i’m fine, mom, i can handle a few kids calling me names” -you

“the hell you will!” -angela

“you better not let mama hear you talk like that” -you

lowkey tho u would threaten kids with her presence

“my sister will beat your ass!” -you

*children running in fear*

she encourages it actually—she thinks its funny

your brothers definitely tease you for her standing up for you

“you’re gonna have to take care of yourself one day, angela isn’t always going to be there for you” -one of the brothers i cant even remember their character traits and only one has a page on fandom wiki

and one day you all grew up and took different paths, but you and angela stayed close

and through her time at the academy and as a cop, she never stopped worrying about you

i’m talking near-hourly update texts

diabla (angela): are you home yet? let me know when you’re home

y/n: i told you i was home an hour ago

diabla: are you still home?

y/n: yes i am still home

honestly when she started out as a cop she saw some pretty messed up stuff and she never stopped imagining you in those situations, it caused her a lot of anxiety

but you started worrying about her too

you might have downloaded a police scanner app to get every single update you could get your hands on

“hey, just calling to see if you’re okay. i heard that there was a call where shots were fired. call me when you can please” -you on the phone

diabla: im working, i’ll call you later. no, i’m not dead.

literal actual “wellness checks” she is. wow.

if you ever had a bad s/o she definitely has threatened them with violence

oh, and YES she will bring tim into it

tim is your bff lowkey and she hates it

“tim told me you threatened to slap a lawyer in the face today” -you

“how the hell did ti—jackson…” -angela

“they said he was a cute lawyer too” -you

“shut up” -angela

whenever there was a crazy incident (like when the CDC had crazy outbreaks) your ass would be sat tf down at that station no questions asked

you guys would have nights in with music and drinks at least once a month

jackson would try to get info on how to get on her good side whenever you crossed paths

“that’s assuming she’s got a good side, kid” -you

this lawyer guy she threatened to hit then started dating was pretty cool actually (for a lawyer)

and soon enough angela was pregnant and you were ecstatic

“i cant believe it im gonna have a nephew!! or a niece. whatever it is, this is gonna be so fun!” -you

“yeah, you think morning sickness and swollen ankles are fun?” -angela

“hey, that’s not my problem” -you

“wow, thanks” -angela

being “fake protective” to angela when it comes to her pregnancy and/or wesley (you liked bullying him)

“puto” -you, whispering in passing

“what did i do?!” -wesley

you were in their weddinggggg

the one where angela got kidnappedddddd

you put an airtag on her after that (not joking)

oh no you were a nervous wreck when this happened and there was nothing you could do. like when they told you what happened to her they thought you were joking. like no way she got kidnapped and brought to another country by a famous female drug lord to steal her baby

and you were a civilian so all you could do was stay home and have a meltdown

and yeah. you got more and more concerned for her safety after that

“you’re going to be a mom! i just want you to be safe. that situation was so…insane! what the hell was that?!” -you

“that was the job. and i like my job. and im going to keep doing my job so no one else will go through anything like that” -angela

yeah you knew you couldn’t argue with her

not soon after she was asking you to babysit

“maybe i should get you some self defense classes. just in case” -angela

“i dont know how i’ve gone this long without them” -you

you enjoyed taking care of the kiddo. even if he had that lopez attitude

“please, jack, will you stop crying?” -you, pleading with a 6 month old

he did not stop

you were not pleased

family dinners!

“maybe y/n should go into law enforcement” -wesley

“that’s not funny, wesley” -angela

“don’t make me use these karate moves i learned on you” -you

fr you did love wesley its just funny to bully your brother in law

angela needed more nights out. date night and sibling nights

so on sibling nights you made it worthwhile

and you started to get close to nyla and lucy and even celina down the line (and of course tim was still your gossip bestie)

ok this is getting long i hope you liked!!!

taglist: @summersimmerus // @locke-writes //

[bokutosbiceps]

don't be afraid to catch feels

eustass kid/monkey d luffy/roronoa zoro/trafalgar d water law/usopp/vinsmoke sanji  x gn!reader | fluff | ~2k words

warnings: some suggestive/18+ themes but nothing explicit

a/n: idk i just really wanted to write so THIS was born !!! how some of the one piece boys realize they have feelings for ya !!  might do this for other fandoms too…actually yeah i will LOL probably if i don’t forget

NOTE: i end them after their confession on PURPOSE so you can choose your own adventure 😆 also there’s more dialogue for luffy’s + usopp’s so they’re a bit longer !!

18+ MDNI | under the cut for length

eustass kid is angry. he's angry that he developed a crush on you. it's so stupid, he thinks. so outta character.

everyone on the victoria punk knows it, including you. and much to kid’s dismay, so does killer. killer talks to him about it everyday, trying to coax a confession out of him in the most gentle yet firm way he can. he wants his captain to be happy, and he knows that you can make him happy, because you already do without knowing it.

kid is completely docile in your presence, and protective. he’s more quiet, because he wants to hear what you have to say. he’s around more, because he wants to keep an eye on you. and maybe because he likes being in your presence.

kid tells (threatens) the rest of his crew that, even though they’re like brothers to him, they’ll be ripped to shreds if any of them so much as glance at you the wrong way.

luckily for you and unluckily for him, you’d heard his very public threat to the kid pirates, save for you. 

you ask kid what the hell all that was about and he simply shrugs, rolling his eyes and trying but failing to keep his cool. you scoff and chuckle at his indignance. you continue to press him till he finally gets annoyed and locks eyes with you, his pupils dilated and his lips spread out into a crazy grin.

“jus’ claiming what’s mine.”

monkey d luffy is seeking out the smartest person he knows, and once he sees her, he’s barreling toward her at lightning speed. hands appear, arising from the wood of the sunny’s deck and forming a net right in front of robin, effectively catching luffy and recoiling him flat onto his butt.

“robin! what was that for?” luffy whines, adjusting his straw hat and tilting it back so that he can look at robin.

“i’d prefer to not be crashed into, captain.” robin shuts her book and gives luffy a gentle, almost maternal smile. “now, what has you so excited?”

luffy is thoughtful as he opts to lay back down on the deck, tilting his straw hat over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. he’s not excited, kinda confused, actually. 

he’s good with his feelings, because he knows his feelings. he's familiar with them. but these feelings—the ones he's been feeling for the past couple of weeks or so—are new. he doesn’t know them, but he wants to learn about them. so here he is, ready to learn with the smartest person he knows.

“well…i wouldn’t call it excited, ya know?” luffy stretches his arms overhead before folding them behind his head. robin chuckles quietly, already aware of luffy’s feelings before he'd even realized them himself.

“what would you call it then?” robin asks patiently.

“like…i dunno! it’s different! it’s different with ‘em…” luffy trails off, sinking back into his thoughts.

“different with who?”

“y/n!” luffy chirps, feeling himself smile at the mention of your name. “i’m really happy they’ve joined the crew!”

“happy like…you’re happy that i joined the crew?” 

“nuh uh, like…i always wanna be near ‘em. i like when they laugh, when they’re happy. their smile’s real nice, too.” luffy pauses. “it’s a lot of fun to be alone with ‘em! makes me feel good…”

robin takes her time explaining what these feelings mean, that that bubbly, queasy feeling in his stomach was not, in fact, indigestion. once robin’s words seep into luffy’s thick, rubber skull, he jumps up off the deck and wraps robin in a tight hug, grinning the whole time and whisper yelling i gotta go tell ‘em!

luffy finds you instantly, almost like his body contains a homing device that always leads to you. you notice way too late that you are in the direct path of the tornado that is luffy, and he tackles you, causing you to fall back. luffy is quick to catch you, stretching an arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest, looking at your face with such intensity you can’t keep your face from heating up.

you’re breathless. due to the adrenaline from almost cracking your skull against the wood of the ship, and from the i’ve got feelings for ya! robin says they're love feelings! do you feel the same? that rushed out of luffy’s mouth.

roronoa zoro is confused. honestly, more confused than he’s ever been in his life. then he’s annoyed. why did he have to develop feelings for a crewmate, let alone you? it would just get in the way of everything. he wants to focus on his dream, on luffy’s dream, and sometimes even on sanji’s dream.

he doesn’t consider himself a particularly selfish person, but he wanted to focus on himself first. 

but then he sees you smile. he hears you laugh. he watches you work and hone your craft, a look of ecstatic determination on your face and the tip of your tongue peeking out between your pursed lips as you focus. suddenly, he realizes it’s really not about him anymore. it’s about you.

he starts to avoid you like the plague—he figures that if he can’t see you, you can’t see him. but he’s oh so wrong. 

when you decide you've had enough of this, you stop zoro, your hand gripping his shoulder and pulling as hard as you can. zoro raises an eyebrow at you and turns around, crossing his arms and waiting for you to explain yourself.

“you’ve been avoiding me.” you state, leaving no room for disagreement or excuses.

“says who?” zoro is very good at playing dumb.

“says me. and luffy.” you huff a bit as you remember your encounter with your captain. how his lips had twisted to the side and how his eyes had shot up to the sky when you’d asked what zoro’s problem was.

“luffy doesn’t know—”

“know why you’ve been avoiding me?” you step closer to zoro, your eyes locked on his and staring into his soul, searching for answers. “i’m sure we’d both love to know.”

zoro scoffs and rolls his eyes, taking a step back from you and turning his face to the sea. the cool ocean breeze feels nice against his burning face. he grimaces as he turns back to you, figuring he might as well get this over with.

“ilikeyou.” zoro mumbles, the words rushing out of his mouth and stopping quickly as they had started.

you shake your head and lean closer to zoro, turning your head to the side so his lips are inches away from your cheek. 

“can you repeat that, please, roronoa?”

“i like you.” zoro says the three, short, quipped words. he’s frowning and his arms are crossed and pulled tightly against his chest, in hopes to dampen the hammering of his heart.

trafalgar d water law is no stranger to stuffing his feelings deep inside of his chest and leaving them there to rot. so he’s wondering why in the fresh hell these annoying feelings for you keep resurfacing. they crawl up his esophagus and reflux into his mouth, leaving a bitter taste behind and making him scowl every time he feels them. 

and to you, it seems as though every time the two of you lock cross paths, he narrows his eyes at you and stalks away. he rarely talks to you anymore, although the conversations you'd shared before were usually very short, yet somehow still meaningful.

you decide to confront him about it, byway of bepo, who happened to know exactly why law was seemingly scarce around you. 

“c-captain? our captain?” bepo stutters, bringing his paw up to his mouth and feigning surprise. “wow! i have no clue why he’d do something like that!”

you frown at bepo. it’s painfully obvious he knows everything about the answer to your question. “spill it, bepo.”

bepo starts to make gestures with his hands and little struggle noises with his mouth. he has no clue how to get out of this one. so he does, indeed, spill it. 

a few minutes later, after bepo was done with his rambling and law’s confession, you approach law with a smug smile on your face.

it doesn’t take a genius to be able to tell why you’re smirking like that, and law immediately pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head down.

“that damn bear…”

usopp is sweaty. he’s sweaty, he’s wringing his hands, twirling his hair around his fingers, readjusting his goggles on top of his head. he can’t sit still. he’s been thinking about how on earth to deal with his feelings: does he just shove 'em deep down inside or does he shout 'em from the crow’s nest? he hasn’t had romantic feelings for anyone since he left kaya, and he simply cannot deal. 

“usopp…” nami says softly, touching usopp on the shoulder. he jumps, then flinches at his overreaction to his best friend’s simple and gentle gesture. “can you just tell them, please?”

“n-no! why should i?” usopp frowns at nami and furrows his eyebrows, knowing full well that it’d be best for his health and the crew’s sanity to just come out and tell you.

“if you don’t…” nami grins at him, slowly and mischievously, “i’ll tell them myself.”

usopp immediately springs up from his chosen sulking location and mutters an okay, okay! behind him as he leaves nami. he’s back to sweating, wringing his hands, playing with his hair, and fidgeting with his goggles.

you notice usopp looking particularly dreadful and wait for him to get closer to your position on the deck. you reach out and catch his hand, giving it a light tug so that he’s moving closer to you. he seems so deep in thought that he doesn’t even notice.

“usopp?” you tug on his hand twice, trying to get his attention. usopp meets your gaze and stares at you blankly before shaking his head and becoming aware of the situation. he tries to withdraw his hand from your grip but you’re holding on tightly, and he realizes he’s trapped.

“y/n! fancy seeing you here!” usopp laughs loudly, trying to mask the way that he’s absolutely crumbling and melting.

“what’s on your mind, usopp?”

“you.” usopp covers his mouth with his free hand immediately after the words come out of his mouth. what was he thinking, being so forward? he quickly looks away from you, directing his eyes to the clouds above. “i mean, nami was talking about you earlier. that’s why i’m thinking about you. no other reason!”

a small smile spreads across your lips. “oh, yeah. she told me something super interesting about you earlier today…” you say, drawing out the last few syllables and relishing in the way usopp looks at you in utter horror.

“nami told you that i like you?” he breathes.

“no, but you just did.”

vinsmoke sanji is aware that he actually likes you. that you're not just another pretty face he admires. he’s always known you were gorgeous, the apple of his eye, the object of his affection. you never noticed that it different, though. thinking back on it, you’re glad that you didn’t notice, because you might’ve thought it meant something bad. quite the contrary, in fact.

sanji knows he loves you when he feels calm in your presence. when he’s not acting like a fan boy and when he spends hours talking with you while he cooks or does the dishes or plans the crew's next meal. you’re always around, and yet, he’s never nervous. 

when he really realizes it, though, it’s when he catches a glimpse of nami’s naked silhouette through the crack in the bathroom door and he doesn’t even flinch. not a tingle, not a single palpitation. it’s not you, and his heart knows it, so he’s calm. this is when he knows he has to confess.

“y/n…darling…” sanji says, grasping your hands in his own and looking you in the eyes. “i have to tell you something—something i’ve never told anyone before.”

you look at him, an eyebrow raised in skeptical curiosity. sanji looks worried, and he almost never looks worried. your mind is going a mile a minute, your brain flipping through pages and pages of things he could possibly say to you within the next minute. because of this, you miss the way sanji squeezes your hands, and the way he sucks in a deep breath.

“i’m in love with you.”

taglist: @usoppsstar (i literally can’t remember anyone else rn lolol, i just knew i wanted to surprise ya coco) | @kingofthe-egirls | @pileofmush | @anemptypuddingcup

[beloveddawn-blog]

Merchandise Blues! Aika and Zira Go to the Zoo!

Fandom: Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl

Rating: Gen

Words: 2k

Summary: There's a new line of Star Guardian merch out! Zira loves it. Aika is conflicted.

Based off of @kianamaiart's amazing universe and @ok-pop-1's incredible art! The concept behind it was just so fun!

Aika slid further down into her seat as yet another yellow Star Bag came into sight. Hoshi smirked, but Zira wasn’t concerned with them.

“You okay?” She asked her crush friend, nudging the smaller girl gently.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Aika replied, pulling herself up straighter and trying to smile like she wasn’t bothered. “I just forgot the new merch line was out this week, that’s all. It’s just… just a lot. Of blue. And yellow. Very yellow.”

“... You do know you are also wearing blue and yellow, right?” Zira asked, unable to stop the question. Aika’s face twisted back into a pout and she sulked back down into her seat.

“They were my favourite colours first!” She insisted, then hissed in a softer voice, “That’s why she wears them, not the other way around.”

“True!” Hoshi piped up from beside them. “I don’t really care what colours Aika wears. Both my colour and the uniform match her preferences, since it helps human confidence so much to feel like you look good.” They went back to comparing hoodies with an over-excited kindergartener then, entirely ignoring the girls once again.

Aika shook her head while Zira giggled, as amused as always at how the two mirrored each others’ disinterest and disillusionment in perfectly inverted symmetry. 

Aika glanced around the train car again, and her face fell when she saw one group that ramped the whole merch thing up to 11. The parents were… mostly normal. They both had the new hoodies, he had a bag and she was wearing Star Wand print leggings, but the kids…

The baby was actually really cute, dressed like a little star with the hood up. Wings longer than the kid themself hung down from the carrier the mom had them in and the little blue baby shoes matched the whole thing perfectly, even though they obviously weren't part of the official line.

The elementary schooler, on the other hand… Zira probably thinks she’s cute. Aika thought, scowling unconsciously at a little redhead wearing a replica of her uniform, right down to the (NON-platform, at least they were sensible there) boots. Her hair was up in two little ponytails held in place with ties that had satin stars on them, and she was clutching a Star Guardian doll with one arm and her dad’s hand with the other. She was gazing around in wonder at all the other people wearing the same colours before she spotted Aika and her eyes went wide.

“MOMMY SHE HAS STAR PIGTAILS TOO!!” The kid shrieked, both parents immediately shushing her. “I’m so sorry,” Her father told the people around them, “Katie shush. You’ll wake the baby and you’re bothering others.” Her mom hissed. Her face twisted at the rebuke, and in only a blink she’d slipped her father’s hold and was right up in Aika’s face.

“Ummm… Hi?” Aika tried, not quite certain what had just happened here.

“You love Star Guardian too.” The kid insisted, reaching towards Aika’s hair but stopping just short. “Mommy can’t get the buns right, so Daddy bought me the bows. Did your Mommy do these for you?”

Aika blinked at her while her father rushed up to them, apologizing before he even got there. “Ah, no? I do them myself.”

“STAR GUARDIAN IS THE BEST!” The kid shrieked again, just as her father scooped her up. One hand wrapped around her to cover her mouth as he hushed her.

“Katie, no. We’ve talked about this, you can’t be yelling inside like that. You know better. It’s really rude, as is getting in this nice young lady’s face like that.” He turned towards Aika himself as his kid quieted down to sulk. “I’m really sorry about that. She’s usually not like this, but her grandmother just bought her the dress and now she’s a bit overwrought and is having a hard time calming down. I’m sorry she went to touch you as well. I promise she usually does know better.”

“It’s alright.” Aika replied, not quite certain what else to say. Zira smirked a bit next to her, noticing an opportunity to tease her friend a little.

“She’s quite the fan, isn’t she? And Star Guardian is her favourite?” The girl perked up at this, though she kept her voice to a reasonable level when she responded.

“She saves people.” The wonder in her voice was so awestruck it even made Zira a little uncomfortable, knowing that she knew something the girl didn’t. She snuck a glance at Aika, who was now having an even harder time pretending she didn’t want to snap at the kid just a little.

“That is what she does.” Hoshi broke in distractedly, now looking out the window. “It’s what she’s here for.”

Aika’s face fell at that in a way that made the man’s brow furrow in concern. The little girl didn’t notice. 

“She saved us.” She continued, clutching her doll with hero-worship clear on her face. “I gave her a flower and she thanked me for it. Grandma’s teaching me to grow buttercups so next time I can give her one I grew just for her, rather than one I picked in the park.”

“... A buttercup?” Aika asked, her defensiveness dropping from her even as her eyebrows drew together. “You gave her a buttercup?”

The little girl buried her face in her father’s shoulder, suddenly shy, so it was him that nodded. “She did. There was a fight at the park and my wife couldn’t move very quickly because she was pregnant. Star Guardian got us out safely, and Katie gave her a buttercup she had picked just before it all went pear-shaped. It made an impression on us, as I’m sure you can see.” He gestured to himself then, and both Aika and Zira joined in with his little chuckle. He headed back to the rest of his family then, and Katie waved at them over his shoulder. Aika waved back, a soft grin on her face.

“Star Guardian made quite an impression on them.” Zira commented, trying to gauge Aika’s mood after that run-in.

Aika’s face fell, and Zira winced. “She does that.” There was a hollowness to Aika’s voice that Zira wasn’t used to hearing and wasn’t sure how to handle.

“I remember you putting that buttercup in a vase when you got home.” Hoshi commented, obviously trying to cajole the young girl back into a better mood. It didn’t work, as the smile Aika gave them was brittle around the edges and so obviously forced.

“I remember how much trouble I got in for breaking formation to help them.” She replied mildly. “No one would talk about anything else for weeks. It was all, “How could you be so unprofessional, Aika? Don’t you ever think of anyone but yourself? You’re so unreliable Aika. We can’t trust your judgement. How are you always late?” Eventually everyone seemed to get bored of it, but it would still come up every now and then when I was ‘underperforming’.” She put the air quotes around the word, but even if she hadn’t her tone would have conveyed them anyway. Hoshi winced.

“Yeah, that was… not my best showing. I messed that up pretty bad.” Their voice was rough in a way that in a human would probably have meant they were fighting back tears but Hoshi… wasn’t. There wasn’t a human equivalent to the tone of it. It reminded Zira of grief.

“How?” She questioned, unable to help herself even though she could tell that neither of them really wanted to talk about it. “What happened with that fight?”

Hoshi squirmed a bit, but did answer. “One of the other girls took a bad hit that probably wouldn’t have happened if Star Guardian was there. It all… Got a little personal. After. And I… Didn’t shut that down. I should have. I should have made it clear that they didn’t have the authority to question Aika’s judgement or dedication. And I should have trusted in them myself.”

Aika was leaning forward now to look at Hoshi around Zira, and it was clear on her face that they had never discussed this since. She obviously didn’t know Hoshi regretted it. “So why didn’t you?” She demanded, causing Hoshi to slink back defensively into their hoodie.

“Mainly because I just really didn’t understand humans.” They replied, obviously trying to keep their defensiveness out of their tone. “I’d never worked with any before, and this was fairly early on in your career. Usually a Guardian team needs to work together to defeat a monster. I was… trying to encourage you to think of your team first, because I assumed that without them you couldn’t win and more people would be in danger. Most species are not as… creative as humans, and even other humans aren’t as creative as you, Aika.” Aika blushed at that, obviously pleased with the praise. “I thought your apparent willingness to abandon your teammates was a show of weakness and disharmony, rather than of trust. And… I think the other girls followed my lead on that.”

Aika blinked at them. “There is never a world where I will abandon a family that has no way to protect themselves for the sake of a group that should have the ability to fight on their own. Also it’s really messed up that you expect a kid to make that choice. I was still in elementary school.”

Hoshi nodded. “Yeah, I also… Don’t really have a frame of reference for just how young you were when you started. I wasn’t expecting that. So since neither the Star Shard or humanity come with an instruction manual, I had to just figure it out on the fly. That time I guessed wrong, but it took over a year for me to know that. By that time it was too late to fix.”

There was a very uncomfortable silence radiating from both sides of her that made Zira shiver from a purely emotional cold. Then a thought came, and she broke it in as awkward a way as she ever did. “You should join the leadership club.”

They both turned to her, blinking in bemusement. “The leadership club?” Aika repeated in bewilderment.

“Yeah!” She replied, just going with it now that they weren’t so upset. “You said humans don’t come with an instruction manual, but there are still things you can do and learn to make it easier to work with us! I don’t think you can take any actual management courses, those are usually adult things, but leadership would be a good start!”

Aika laughed at that. “That's a great idea! And since we joined the book club, Hoshi’s gonna be on their own for it. Sounds like fun.”

The star in question sulked back into their seat. “I don’t wanna miss book club!” They insisted. “That kid with the hair gets all uppity when I’m not there to refute their nonsense, and besides! I’ve already read the book!”

Zira blinked at them. “That book was decided on yesterday,” she stressed. “How have you already read it?”

“Hoshi doesn’t need to sleep as much as we do.” Aika replied, getting to her feet just as the announcement came on. “Come on, this is our stop! I can’t wait to see the penguins!” Her face lit up with glee as the train rocked to a stop, and she was gone the moment the doors opened. Zira found themself grinning as well, their previous mood restored. Aika had that effect on people. 

[angstflavoured]

A little fiddauthor analysis...

Making this post mostly just to get all of my thoughts out about it regarding how I think it is inherently very toxic on both ends, despite people treating it as more wholesome near the beginning when they were both younger… and the fact that I think it’s very incredibly one-sided. I’m strictly going to be talking about CANON events, not headcanons or speculations or AU’s. If you wanna draw Fiddleford and Ford being cute and hugging and dating, I don’t care, I like a lot of the content for them myself. It isn’t canon to the show and doesn’t affect or harm anybody. That’s what a fandom is and I’m not trying to police anyone, I just think a lot of people misinterpret their relationship and thought it would be fun to talk about it because I find their dynamic really interesting. I’m going to be using a lot of direct quotes and scenes from Ford’s journal, TBOB, and the show, so buckle in baby ! This was supposed to be a quicker and smaller one while I work on my Billford essay, but I had a lot more to say than I thought…

First off, it’s interesting to see how Ford thinks their interaction after so long is going to go. In Journal 3 he says he has “no choice” but to call Fiddleford up to work on the portal because Ford just doesn’t have the smarts to do what he wants to do himself, and he thinks he’s going to have to literally beg Fiddleford to join him. But as we see in the journal and in the show, it hardly takes ANY convincing at all for Fiddleford to drop everything he was doing and leave his wife and kid for months on end to work on a project he knows nothing about. All the info he has he got over a short phone call. It seems like Ford, at this point being so close with Bill and thinking he’s the only one who cares about him, just assumed that most people he used to talk with don’t think about him anymore. He’s had Bill whispering in his ear that he’s the only one who understands him, so it makes sense he doesn’t think Fiddleford will want to do this with him. But from what it looks like, Fiddleford either has been waiting every second for Ford specifically to get back to him, or just has been waiting for any excuse to get the hell away from his family which is… yeesh. Either way, not very healthy regarding his wife and kid. He doesn’t seem to really care all that much about either of them, but more on that later.

Obviously Ford cares about Fiddleford, as soon as he comes down to live with him, Ford hasn’t been so happy in a good while. He missed human connection, despite how good things were going with Bill. Having another person there to talk with was nice. Despite Fiddleford having strange quirks that did irk Ford, he found them endearing and genuinely felt better in his company.

But I think the biggest thing here a lot of people overlook is that Ford only ever refers to Fiddleford as his college buddy in the show, and in the journals as “my assistant.” I’ve seen so many people have Ford call him his partner, but he actually only calls him this like once in the show i think. It’s always my assistant, my research, my theory. Which is funny because Ford didn’t come up with any of this stuff with the portal on his own. Bill was the one that gave him the blueprints. Fiddleford even questions Ford at one point, asking if he had help coming up with them because of how complex they are, and Ford decidedly DOESN’T mention Bill and instead tells him “with hard work, anything is possible.” (Btw he does refer to Bill as his partner multiple times… just sayin.)

The way he talks to and about Fiddleford, Ford is always talking down. He does think that Fiddleford is smart and does think he has a brilliant mind, but he still thinks that he’s below him.

Because Ford has Bill.

And oh my lord, do I not see anyone talk about this. Soooo many comics always depict Fiddleford knowing about Bill existence, but I think the biggest roadblock with their ship and a huge point of contention is that Fiddleford never canonically knows about Ford’s relationship with Bill until after he’s already lost his mind when he’s old. He doesn’t even KNOW that he exists until he’s half sucked through the portal. People ignore this, but it’s so important to their dynamic. Ford doesn’t think that Fiddleford could handle it, and he doesn’t think he necessarily deserves to know. Because Bill is Fords thing. Their relationship is special. Ford is special.

Ford claims he doesn’t tell Fiddleford about Bill because he would throw him in a looney bin, despite their research being so whimsical and ridiculous already. They’re literally building a portal to a different dimension, Fiddleford would’ve believed him. And the way Ford talks about it, you can tell it’s less about Fiddleford thinking he’s crazy and more about something else.

Could F ever truly appreciate the complex fates that brought me and my Muse together?

He doesn’t think Fiddleford could APPRECIATE it. The language he uses, you can tell that Ford knows that Fiddleford would see right through Bill’s facade. And Ford doesn’t want that because he wants to be friends with Bill and he wants to be special, and he’d rather hide Bill and stay in denial than tell his dearest friend, just so he can feel special a little longer.

This is why I think as much as Fiddleford’s romantic feelings for Ford were there, it never ended up going anywhere. Ford would always choose Bill over him. When Fiddleford got him the axolotl pet, Ford quickly threw it out and lied about it to Fiddleford just because Bill told him to. And there’s multiple cases of interactions like this, where Bill will talk down about Fiddleford and Ford will just be like damn… yeah. Here’s a journal excerpt from TBOB around Christmas time. For context, Ford got into a huge fight with a monster and tried to contact Bill to help him, but he didn’t come. And then Bill randomly shows up later when Ford’s at home decorating.

I was almost roasted by Krampus, and where was he? Off inspiring some other scientist? Posing for some tapestry? Were we even partners? He threw the accusation back in my face. “Hey, I’m not the one skipping portal work to carouse with a third-wheel hillbilly with second thoughts about our project!” I started to argue--but he had a point. F has seemed less and less committed to work lately.

Which is INSANE !!! when we see that only a fucking page ago, Fiddleford was explaining how he got in a fight with his wife because he didn’t get her a present for Christmas. After spending multiple weeks and making multiple prototypes for a pair of 6 fingered gloves for Ford.

And if we hop back to Journal 3, there’s a particular interaction with them which is crazy to me. While hiking up a mountain to go to Crash Site Omega, they get into a fight with the Gremloblin, which fucking swoops up Fiddleford into the sky. In Ford’s attempt to get him down, they both end up falling down through the roof of a barn, where Fiddleford gets stuck full of quills and breaks his arm.

Despite our fortune, I have become worried about my assistant. I was able to treat his physical wounds, but I fear there are mental wounds not as easily remedied. For the past several nights, he has been unable to sleep, apparently still haunted by the Gremloblin’s gaze. More alarming is his Cubic’s Cube. It has sat scrambled, unfixed, on his desk for days. I myself have survived many monster attacks without trauma, but perhaps F is more sensitive than I realized…

OH. MY. GOD. The way that Ford talks so condescendingly is enough to make any person's blood boil. It’s the same way when Fiddleford gets sucked through the portal, and when Fiddleford gets pulled back, Ford’s first words out of his mouth are “WHAT DID YOU SEE!”

As much as he cared for Fiddleford… he has no regard at all for Fiddlefords VERY VALID feelings about events that would traumatize literally anyone. But he just pats Fiddlefords back and tells him to get used to it because this is just part of the job and he shouldn’t be whining so much. He does nothing to properly comfort him and scoffs it off like “apparently he’s ‘TRAMATIZED’ or something. I’ve been through so much worse and never had a problem, I don’t get what his issue is.” And then ford is SURPRISED AND APPALLED when Fiddleford creates the memory gun.

Which oohhhhh lord, the memory gun. jesus christ. Such a big example of the distrust between them on both sides. Fiddleford literally canonically lied about destroying the gun and then erased Fords memory about it so that he could erase his own memories in secret without him knowing. And also probably fords sometimes! Not completely canon, but like…. Fiddleford did it once, I wouldn’t put it past the guy. And then when they go to the carnival, Fiddleford hands out his fucking card to Ivan (the leader of the society of the blind eye, who was a teen/early 20s at the time) so that he can erase memories for him that he didn’t like.

Biggest thing we can take away from everything regarding Fiddleford’s character, is that he always takes the easy way out. He ran away from his family he obviously didn’t really care for as much as he should’ve because that was easier than talking it out or divorcing. He pushed it aside for later. Bro was literally looking for a fucken Brokeback Mountain situation, but Ford wasn’t giving anything back to him. So instead Fiddleford constantly made a fool of himself doing things for Ford and tripping over himself to show his gratitude when all the while Ford was entirely focused on Bill. and then he just goes around and starts erasing memories, because it’s easier than having to actually deal with things. Which is why I don’t foresee a reality in which Fiddauthor makes sense, in the way they actually end up doing anything together. Because Fiddleford’s too much of a coward to admit his feelings first, and Ford obviously has his sights on someone else.

And here’s the BIGGEST damning thing, like oh my god.

In Journal 3, Ford goes to a fortune teller (which don’t get me fucking started on how judgy he is to her and how much he talks down about her, DESPITE HER BEING LEGIT AND ACTUALLY WARNING HIM). Long story short, she gives Ford a spiel about how someone close to him is deceiving him. She then gives him a mood ring and says “when this is blue, you may pull through. When this is black, you can’t turn back.”

And LO AND BEHOLD!! OH MY FUCKING GOD, when they’re at the carnival and Fiddleford is talking to Ivan and whispering--

Ford. Looks down. To check if the ring is black.

I took one last look down at my hand and was strangely relieved to find that the palm reader’s ring was still blue. I shoved it in my pocket, collected F, and tried to put the whole experience out of my mind.

FORD LITERALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THE IDEA OF FIDDLEFORD BETRAYING HIM BEFORE BILL. IN FACT, HE LITERALLY NEVER MENTIONS THINKING IT WAS BILL ONCE.

He talks about how they got into a fight at dinner the night before the portal test because Fiddleford was having second thoughts about it being dangerous, and Ford told him to be there or he would get left behind. He’d do it without him.

And when Fiddleford gets pulled through the portal and quits the project, Ford says gooooddd fucking riddance, I never even needed you bro.

F, you weak-willed hayseed! Go back to your doting family and a life of fear and compromise! I weep now not for our failed partnership, but for the golden opportunity thrown away. To think I considered him a friend! I know my true friend. It is my Muse.

One of the few times he ever refers to it as partnership btw. Literally only when they break everything off.

And Ford only starts fighting with Bill about everything after it starts directly hurting him. It literally just seems like Ford is less upset about Bill’s plan being evil, and more upset at the fact that he lied to Ford LMAOOOOO he didn’t like the fact that he was disposable and lesser to Bill, despite Ford treating Fiddleford the exact same way.

At the end of all of this… it may seem like I’m really fighting against this ship, but not in the slightest. I LOVEEEE them so much, but in a way where it would be really toxic and not actually end up with anything happening.

Such a biggg theme when it comes to Ford’s character specifically is yearning. He yearns for success and attention and love and acceptance, but he’s constantly never giving other people those things. Which ends in him not receiving any in return. That is obviously until he gets back from dimension hopping and works on being a better person. When he starts towards healing, that’s when he starts receiving what he always wanted.

There’s so much tension between Ford and Fiddleford it's like disgusting, they were so incredibly gay… but, I hate to say it, it was very one-sided. They did have some fun times together and Ford enjoyed his company for quite a bit, but it was nothing like how Fiddleford felt for him. Fiddleford was always thinking about how Ford was feeling and what he was doing, and Ford never really did that for Fiddleford unless he was prompted to. But he was alwayasyayayss thinking about how Bill felt. And he always chose Bill in the end.

I just see so much of all of this get swept under the rug and never addressed, when it's kind of sad because it’s all so interesting and really adds a lot to both of their characters. They were both so morally gray back in their day, and honestly even more so now that they’re older, and its kinda sad to see that all go ignored. I JUST LOVE TOXIC GAYS SM AND THEY WERE SO TOXIC AND I’D LOVE TO SEE PEOPLE EXPLORE THAT MORE. Hopefully maybe this will prompt some people to think about it like this…….. It’s all so very tragic and their relationship was doomed from the start and i loveeeee shit like that. only misery to be had...

[ammoknightsofficial]

While the abject hostility to storytelling, mind bogglingly forthcoming bigotry, the valuing of shipping above all else, and general severe tone deafness is not at all a new invention by the Mouthwashing fandom - nor is the visibility or severity of all of these things - I deeply, sincerely hope that the criticism that the spotlight being put on the Mouthwashing fandom for this stuff can maybe pave a sturdy path towards the criticism of fandom as a whole, and shipping culture as well.

For many years, people have been acting as though fandom + shipping culture are fun, wholesome, welcoming for everyone, and entirely devoid of negative politics. That is why it has been defended viciously and endlessly from even the most minor of criticism. The reality is that it has always been deeply hostile to marginalized people. Misogyny isn’t new to fandom. Rape apologia isn’t new to fandom. Ableism isn’t new to fandom. Homophobia isn’t new to fandom. Transphobia isn’t new to fandom. Racism isn’t new to fandom. They’ve been overbearing, oppressive forces in fandom and shipping culture for decades - no matter how hard people want to try to say that fandom is for the marginalized, it has literally always been overtly and covertly hostile to the existence of every single minority group.

I’m glad I’m seeing people actually talk about it for once. Often, when you open these kinds of discussions, people will shut you down or chase you off social media entirely. Do not stop talking. Because no, we shouldn’t be seeing wholesome AUs of a rape victim being forced to carry her rapist’s baby to term and happily raising it. No, we shouldn’t be seeing people say that a canonical male rapist is a trans woman, or is a closeted gay man who would have been “fixed by sodomy”. No, we shouldn’t be seeing cutesy art and videos about a disabled man being given talking button mats made for literal dogs in lieu of an actual AAC device. You’re right, this shit is fucked up… And it’s even worse that plenty of fandom members in different communities got away scot free with doing similar or worse things. We should be talking about this. We should be talking about how fandoms generally protect this kind of behavior. And we should start throwing hands at this behavior more and more often.

Fandoms are never going to be “fun for everyone”, nor are they going to be welcoming to the marginalized, until we start making an effort to deconstruct the way it further marginalizes people, and recognize when fan content goes beyond the realm of “harmless fun”.

Remember: Just because it’s free doesn’t mean it’s above criticism.

[lucasandlily]

Rui x Reader who is really affectionate, but can't touch him because of The Curse.

A/N: I'm alive!! Rui my beautiful beautiful tragic boy. I've actually been having a lot of brainrot for this game, particularly an isekai AU that made me contemplate making RP blog (I love you guys btw. This is probably my first fandom where they're so active, I've been really well connected with this fandom somehow and it's so fun!!), so I figured I might as well be writing it down now. This is an idea I've had spinning in my head for a while, so it's VERY self-indulgent/insert, but enjoy!! AO3 link here

Rui's POV. Second-person pronoun "You" is used. Angst! But also fluff!! (825 words)

You’ve always been an affectionate little thing. It’s something Rui finds adorable about you, staying optimistic despite all that looms over you, not letting any of the ghouls he KNOWS can be more than a little much sometimes destroy your positive attitude. It’s as if you decided to be the light in a place that literally has dark in its name, and he lov admires you for that.

He can’t help but feel the bitter green of envy though, when he watches you ruffle Lyca’s hair after he whines at you for treating him like a dog. 

He pointedly turns away from the look Ed gives him over your head when you relax into his chest after he leans over your shoulder.  

He just laughs along at your drunken antics when you nuzzle into Haru’s hand, somehow even more touchy when your cheeks are flushed with alcohol. 

He tries not to remember the flash of hurt, confusion, the first time he’d backed away from your hand when all you wanted to do was give him a pat for a job well done. He doesn’t know if it hurt more when your face morphed into regretful understanding, or when you apologised and told him you’d try not to do it again. 

Rui tells himself it’s for the better when he notices you’ve been avoiding him for the past week. He’d have done the same to you anyway, if he realised his feelings were starting to fester. He tries to not let it get to him when he hears you enter the Obscuary mansion, only to quickly patter up the stairs without stopping by the bar first, as you would have done previously. 

Maybe before, he would have made it a little competition to see who could mess up the other’s hair more. He’d watched you run your fingers through Lyca’s after you’d tousled it out of place, anyway. Maybe in another life, you’d gently hold his face as you showered him with kisses. He’d do the same to you anyway, if he wasn’t forced to keep his hands to himself. 

If he didn’t notice you hold your hand back every time you saw his mask slip. If he didn’t see your hand stop short before pulling it back to tell him he had a bit of hair out of place. 

It’s all just part of the cursed life, he tells himself. He should be getting used to it by now, he sighs as he walks down the hall over to his room. 

Behind him, he hears the jingle of the bell you like to wear on your keychain. He turns at the sound of your quick steps approaching. 

“Rui! Ruiruiruiii!!” You call.

“Ah, there you are! Haha, I’m not going anywhere you know~ though I guess I don’t mind being chased?” He teases as you approach. 

You smile up at him brightly, “I have something to show you!” You tell him, he notices now that you have a hand behind your back. 

“Hm? Aw, did you get me a gift? And here I was thinking you were hiding from me!” He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. Your smile falters a bit as you blink at his confession. 

But before he can backtrack with a “Just kidding!” your smile lightens again, eyes filling with some sort of resolve as you pull out… a glove on a stick? in your other hand.

He doesn’t pull away when he feels the simulation of a hand on his head. He can’t, when you look into his eyes with such unmistakable fondness. The awkward, stilted movements as you try to run the imitation hand through his hair communicates how long you’ve wanted to do this, and the tears that well up in his eyes betray how much he’s needed it. 

He feels the cloth soak up the tears when you move the glove down to hold his face. It feels soft under his skin, and he can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

“How long did it take you to make this?” He asks as you let him lace his fingers with your hand extension. He squeezes the plush hand, feeling the soft give before it reaches the stick inside, inspecting where the glove and stick are attached. 

“Um! A week? It took a bit of experimenting to get it to stay on… And they don’t really sell gloves on campus either.” 

Your eyes crinkle when you look at him, the corners of your lips pull up triumphantly when he lets go of the hand to let you pat his head again. 

“You deserve at least this much,” you tell him. “I know it’s not really the same or anything, but I don’t wanna leave you out, y’know?” 

“It was worth it though, if it made you happy.” You look into his eyes as you say this, and he can’t help but believe you.

Reblogs and Comments are appreciated! I love you (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

[antwuzhere]

Do you have any tips for people trying to learn how to draw full bodies and just in general more character details :3? You've made some of my favorite animatics and I like learning tips from my favorite artists <3

Awwww thank you so much!!! <33

Sorry it’s taken so long to get round to this 😞😟 and you’re gonna have to bare with me cause it’s a lonnggg post lmao

How to: full bodies

OUGH I just realised I forgot the red in Scott’s hair…

you might have to zoom in cause the writing is barely legible aaaaaaa sorry

That’s like, my main ‘how to’ when it comes to full body characters,

Art Tips I’ve learnt and love;

• I find it easier to sketch very shape based, I like to start with everything really squareish (?) And build on top of that. Cylinder limbs etc

• Tutorials and references are your friend! It doesn’t matter what ‘level of artist’ you are they are always handy, especially when trying new things or poses

• I actually forget about it a lot lmao, but variety in line-weight can make your art look really visually pleasing!

• it’s okay to have art block, or not have every single drawing you make be your very best.

Not every piece has to be a masterpiece, it just has to make you happy ! <3

• don’t be afraid to experiment with your style! Make wacky choices! There’s no rules to art!!! :p

•have fun with it!!

Character details :

I found these old drawings where I kinda explained the why behind their outfits and accessories so this might help

(I don’t think I’ve ever even shared these aaaa, the first one’s supposed to be a superhero au for wildlife)

The thought process is basically; what does this character like, what have the gone through, how do they behave, and how can I represent that as wearable objects?

So my art of pearlescentmoon often has moons stitched into her clothes

Or I usually draw Scott with a canary feather on a necklace because flower husbands! (because jimmys associated with canary’s in the fandom)

But also, not every choice has to have a reason, I give Scott blue trainers to match his hair cause it’s pretty, I give lizzie space buns cause they are cute, sometimes it’s just about the vibe yknow lmaoo

BONUS :

I thought, since I don’t often post speedpaints, I tried to find some where I’m focusing on the bodies and not just the faces, and make a lil compilation of them, to idk give a kind of idea of the behind the scenes, in case this helps :p

Also featuring; yet to be seen art and designs

And a shirtless guy. Sorry about that. It’s for ‘anatomy practice’ trust

You can see that if I’m drawring multiple characters I’ll usually duplicate them, and draw on top of (but not copy so they don’t have the same features) them so I don’t mess up the size proportions.

I actually really struggle drawring two people next to eachother, and not making one being look like they’re further fowards, especially if they’re different heights, so that’s my small little hack :p

Hope this helps somehow <333

[worldheadcanons]

☆ stalkertalia: there’s more!

requested by anon! gender neutral reader. starring . . . italy, china, prussia & germany. warning for stalking behaviors & nsfw (masurbation) hinted in china’s and discussed in germany’s parts. fandom masterlist found here. 📌 . . . author notes: this was fun to write! excited for the german brothers ^_^. i felt so mischievous while writing bc i hinted at quite a bit of things throughout these hcs (mostly just character relations but i’m ngl my personal hcs deff made their way in here). try to figure them all out if you dare!

feliciano vargas!

— feliciano calls and texts you regularly. his calls are usually just check-ins, making sure you’re doing well emotionally and physically. they’re typically short as well. his texts, however, are casual and flirtatious, as if you’re already well acquainted. not only that, but he texts you on and off for hours at a time. vargas doesn’t find it odd at all for him to text you in the afternoon and pick up your conversation from the morning as if no time passed. he fully expects you to go along with it, too.

— he’s vaguely sugar daddy-ish, also. he often buys you gifts so that you keep him unblocked. a new laptop? sure. brand new outfits from luxury brands? they’re delivered and left on your porch the very next day. anything and everything is on the table, it seems, which really makes you wonder why someone with so much money to waste has decided to bother little ol’ you. he’s not trying to buy your love, though, promise. feliciano just knows that the money and gifts help soften you up to him. you’re always more open to him after receiving a present or two.

— he knows an odd amount about your job and work schedule, as if he’s watched you at work. come to think of it, he probably has. he probably still does. vargas seems to know when you clock in, what you do for work, when you clock out, and even when you happen to go shopping for ingredients using your bosses’ card. how exactly he found out that you worked as a personal chef, you weren’t entirely sure.

— sometimes (really, a lot of the time) feliciano likes to play cute. maybe a better word would be coy, actually. he likes to pretend he’s not doing anything wrong, and even has the gall to text you every now and then something along the lines of ‘i don’t get why you’re so cold with me :(‘. he knows why you’re being so distant, of course. it’s no secret that his ways of contacting you are.. orthodox. but he also knows you’ll warm up to him soon enough. you’re soulmates. you will warm up to him.

— generally, he likes to use a fair amount of emoticons and emojis throughout his texts. not in a grandma way, but he’ll end his messages with red hearts or smiley faces, or even send a cute japanese emoticon your way. you asked him once how he knew about the emoticons japanese keyboard. his answer? he found it out from a friend, and though it was cute. he’s an… interesting.. guy. a guy who sends threats about the men you talk to in one text and cutesy emoticons in another.

— every now and then you play along with him, and in these moments, he feels himself falling more in love with you. you hold normal conversation, casual to the point of it being intimate (at least, in his mind it is). vargas views these rare events as you being your honest self. surely, your true self wants him just as much as he wanted you; you’re only hiding yourself because you’re scared of the intensity of your love. he’s deluding himself to a degree, but who doesn’t nowadays? he gets upset when you burst his bubble, anyhow.

yao wang!

— he doesn’t text and rarely calls. he usually writes letters; untraceable ones, of course, without a return address. he mails them himself, usually, though sometimes he has his employees deliver them. he’s old fashioned, what can he say. wang often writes about his love for you, how tempting you are.. never have you ever read such.. descriptive pieces of writing… it’s a little uncomfortable reading his more lustful letters. you try to ignore the stains at the edges of them…

— he likes sending you clothes to wear. sometimes yao sends designer brands, but mostly he sends everyday where. he tries not to send separate pieces, preferring to deliver whole outfits to your house (unlike his letters, the outfits are sent through standard delivery). what can he say? he loves seeing you in clothing he picked out. it’s a little bit about control, sure, matching you to his own artistic vision. but it’s also about providing for you. if you’d just let him into your heart, well, you’d never have to lift a finger again.

— god, you’re far too young for him. you’re closer to his son in age, really. sometimes he wishes that you’d marry his son, if only to ensure that you stay in his life. he’d see you during every family reunion and then some, as he would pop in every other day just to see you. wang might even move in with his son, claiming to need care, just to see your face. but even then, it’s not enough for you to be in his life. no, you should be his. maybe it was problematic, the age gap between you two. but you only live once, and his life is already partially gone!

— one day, three autumns. the chinese idiom rings true whenever you’re not around; one day without you feels like three full autumns. he often ends up asking around to see where you are. his questions are posed cleverly, disguised as common concern. yao’s no fool. he won’t let the world know of his affections towards you. not yet.

— outside of stalking, he tries his damnedest to get you to come work for his company. it would be much easier to keep tabs on you if you were one of his worker bees. wang’s even sweetened the deal a couple times, promising a high position right off the gate. unfortunately for him, you seem content working your current job. he’d buy the company you work under off your ceo but that seems a bit too obvious.

— has he been in your house? not without an invitation. he’s not a creep, after all. what he will do is send paid recon troopers to your property to record you in your private moments. they’re ordered not to view the footage. they’re to send all videos and photos directly to him and then delete them once they’ve been received. if you ever feel a pair of eyes watching you before bed, good news! it’s not yao — just the surveillance trooper that’s sending footage back to him.

gilbert beilschmidt!

— gilbert’s only ever into two types of people: anyone who can pull off the whole “sweaty warrior with muscles glistening in the sun” look and proper people that he can tease and fluster. his ex was the latter, but you.. you’re definitely the former. a welcome change of pace for him since his last break up was really messy.

— he met you at the gym. he was doing cardio on the treadmill while you were working arms nearby, your headphones neatly on your head. you weren’t dressed up much, just a baggy t-shirt and some gym pants, but god, your arms.. it was like seeing a walking greek sculpture. a dedication to the beauty of the human form.. something like that, bielschmidt figured. he’s not known for deep thoughts but you drag it out of him.

— when he met his cardio goal he turned off the treadmill, slinking off and making his way to you. he complimented your form, smiling, before asking you about your routine. the two of you hit it off and from there became gym buddies — on gilbert’s end, you were a bit more than that. he’d decided that you would be more than a simple rebound. he was determined to have you as his next partner.

— in his mind, you’re heaven sent after his bitch of an ex. that guy was the worst. okay, maybe he’s bitter about the whole break up, but that doesn’t really matter now that he has you! you, who he works out with thrice a week. you, whose home he found online two days after initial contact (it started as a search for your instagram and ended up with him finding your home and your mom’s facebook). you, who could definitely beat his ass… which makes him that much more attracted to you.

— beilschmidt knows that resorting to stalking is pathetic. but, hear him out: it’s only temporary. he’s doing his best to make moves on you in the gym but you don’t seem to pick up on them. he’s starting to wonder if you’re like his brother, someone who just doesn’t get social cues, or if you’re just trying to kindly reject him.. gilbert figures he won’t know until he tries some more. watching you from outside your windows is not a permanent gig. it’s just until he can get you to go out with him. that’s what he says to rationalize it, anyways.

— he’s a nail biter, and you best believe he was biting his nails down the first time he sees you outside of your gym rat clothes. from the window, he watches, entranced. lounge wear. you’re sitting on your coach in all your glory, watching some show in the cutest lounge wear he’s ever laid eyes on. god, the things you do to him. you oblivious god, you.

ludwig beilschmidt

— ludwig fell for you all too quickly. you were friends before, having gone to college together. now, you work in the same office. love strikes on a random wednsday during a casual lunch with coworkers. you laughed a little loud and half elbowed him in the process (you tend to hit when you laugh, he’s noticed) (he’s not not fond of the trait, though). it was then that he realized how warm you make him feel. you’re like a light, brightening the room even when you’re quiet. your mere presence is enough. wow. how amazing are you?

— i want to bathe in that light. it dawns on him that he wants to be with you, as more than friends. it’s not too hard to be close to you already; you seem to naturally gravitate towards sitting with him during casual work events and friendly hang outs. plus, the two of you already carpool together (it’s economical, is all). still, selfishly, he wants more. beilschmidt wants to date you.

— the german does try to be smooth as your anonymous stalker, often sending you packages full of things he thinks you’ll like. he’s indecisive, however, when it comes to you. is it wrong to want a great gift for a great person? the result of his indecision is him mailing you several versions of the same item with slight differences. accompanying these boxes on your porch is a stiff text to your phone that says ‘keep what you want, leibling, i just wanted to make sure i got it right. please leave feedback’.

— he sometimes wishes he had the confidence to confess to you in person. he’s worried about throwing away your friendship, though. strong friendships like the one you have are hard to make. they take years of effort and to toss it all away over a crush is… ridiculous, in ludwig’s eyes. no, he’s best handling things this way. even though he yearns to show his face and do more for you, he can’t. not yet. oh, how he dreams of fixing your squeaky door hinges and checking your engine. he’d clean your house for you, cook for you… what? it’s romantic to him, at least.

— he often takes your words literally. when you text beilschmidt any sort of feedback, he internalizes it. fortunately for him, you’re quite kind. you’ve yet to tell him to leave you alone or anything of that sort. it only furthers his love for you, the patience that you’re showing. he knows he’s not the most smooth (god knows — his brother won’t let him hear the end of it!) but he’s trying his best, promise.

— unbeknownst to you, he’s very… active. sexually. he hides it from you as much as he can; he isn’t like alfred, someone who’s shameless and will jerk off in your bushes. no, he’s much more reserved, jerking off with a stolen shirt of yours (he couldn’t push himself to steal panties after you invited him in as a friend). he does it in the corner of his room with the door locked, almost defensively. he feels lots of guilt when it comes to sex and sexual desire, which is partly why he’s still a virgin. after masturbating, he usually sits in silence for a couple minutes thinking over his life. this brief reflection doesn’t stop him from repeating the cycle later, though.

[qu0rky]

Just saw the stupidest argument on tiktok and felt the need to rant about it.

Why does it matter so much if i ship Jayvik and ship Mel with another woman??? You claim that i’m being misogynistic, but have you considered that i just don’t like straight ships and am a lesbian??

Sure, i don’t like Mel nearly as much as i like Viktor, and she’s about the same level as Jayce for me, but i don’t give a genuine fuck who you ship her with, because at the end of the day these are fictional characters and everyone’s allowed to have opinions about them.

“female characters always get sidetracked and shipped with characters they never met just so they don’t get in the way of the gay ship” Do you understand, genuinely, how shipping works? If i ship a couple, ANY couple, i don’t want ANYONE to get in the middle of that, fucking duh. Especially when it comes to otps. If you’re that pissed off about it, you’re in luck! Because most of the time, these mlm ships that are super popular aren’t even canon. Have fun!

And by trying to have this weird moral high ground, you’re completely disregarding the fact that rare pairs (or even popular wlw ships) are very much real and not just shipped out of convenience or spite, but because people like the possible dynamic, and exploring new things with hot characters.

Same thing for Bkdk and Togachako, personally i don’t even ship Bkdk (Kiribaku ftw) but if you actually think people only ship Togachako so Uraraka doesn’t get in the way of Bkdk, i’m sorry but you’re an idiot. People HAVE been shipping her and Toga. There’s tons of content for them. It’s one of the most loved ships and it absolutely stands on its own. Don’t piss me off.

It’s fine to want nuance in fandom discussions, but sometimes you read too much into things, sometimes fandoms just do things because they can, because it’s a fandom space, and it shouldn’t be limited.

It is so easy to curate your own fandom experience, the block button is right there!! Use it instead of starting arguments for no reason.