#which ideally should not be mixed

[thebaffledcaptain]

Can you give an example (not name-and-shaming, just something vague or generic) to illustrate what you mean about people blorbo-ifying historical figures? I'm wondering how much of what you're interpreting as that is people intentionally stepping off the path of history to have fun with obviously-fictionalized copies of those characters - versus, for example, those people saying "Hamilton was autistic" because they want to relate to him/take three small misunderstood details and run with it.

I'm leading this with the disclaimer that obviously one post on this topic does not represent my entire view on a subject as nuanced as this, and the disclaimer that I have never and will never specifically go in and call particular people out on it because that's just an asshole move and ultimately not a respectful or effective way to confront stuff like this (not that I thought you were implying either of those things, anon).

The biggest specification I can make is that I'm not talking about already fictionalized versions of these historical figures when I complain about this kind of thing: I am of the belief that a fandom side of history can exist and that is not inherently a bad thing. The problem occurs when the lines between "fandom" and "history" become blurred, often unintentionally, and frequently as a result of people's genuine interest in these (fictionalized representations of) historical figures. History-inspired and history-based media, as well as interactions with it, are not inherently wrong as long as they're not claiming to be actual history. Like, as much as most of us cringe to look at it, I think if Miku Binder Thomas Jefferson could exist solely in the contextual void of the Hamilton musical, that's honestly not the worst thing in the world. (Honestly, I can't know for sure the artist's true views on the subject, but I feel like something that exaggerated could be indicative that they're not talking about the historical figure Thomas Jefferson himself, but specifically this fictional Hamilton musical version.)

But as I said, I think there does result a lot of genuine interest (which is great!) in the history and the figures behind the fandom stuff, which often leads to the blurring of these lines—people learning more, becoming passionate, but mistakenly and probably unintentionally equating these historical figures with their fictional representations and treating them like they would any fictional character. I don't, like, personally hold a hatred for these people because I think most of the time it goes unrecognized. It's more of a result of ignorance or misunderstanding of historiography than it is a genuine disrespect for learning history.

So anyway, to provide an actual example like you asked, I'll say writing fanfiction about characters while claiming they are the actual historical figures. Writing fanfiction for a history-based fandom, or creating fictional characters inspired by them, is one thing, but doing it for the actual genuine figures from history is another. I recognize that this might be partly a result of my personal philosophy on the whole RPF issue, but the idea of treating real people like characters without their consent has never sat right with me. I suppose you could debate the ethics of them already being dead, but still, as a principle, I am of the philosophy that one should treat other people as people, and I find it very weird to treat them as characters when they are still people, however long dead they are. I don't love certain types of historical fiction for this same reason, so I hope it doesn't exclusively come off as a fandom thing. I think this is one of those places where these figures' relatability is indeed an important perspective, because it reminds us of the fact that they were just like you and me, and thus I see it as important to treat them as such: not with blind respect and reverence, but also not with a disregard for their real human existence.

Other stuff has the same sorts of issues: making headcanons, certain fanart, slapping labels on people without leaving room for nuance (I can't put everything under a blanket statement, obviously). It's because of how close I feel to history that I take issue with this stuff—because I always, always want to recognize that above all, these people were people, and I need to acknowledge them as people. In a certain sense I aim to treat them the way I want to be treated, like I'd do for any of my fellow humans (with the obvious nuance that comes from academic perspectives and such), because again, they're people too.

On the issue of relatabilty, I certainly don't think it's wrong to assess evidence through the perspective a modern lens, nor do I think it's wrong to want to relate to these figures. I simply think that we need to be able to acknowledge that great truth of historiography, which is that there are so many things we just can't know. In researching history our goal is essentially to develop assumptions based on the evidence available to us—I hesitate to even use the phrase "draw conclusions" because that suggests arriving at a level of certainty we will unfortunately never be able to have. So, you know, I don't think it's necessarily wrong to say that, like, the real Alexander Hamilton was likely what we would consider bisexual nowadays, or something like that. But I also wouldn't say that we could claim with 100% certainty that he was or that he wasn't. As for the fictional interpretation of him from the musical, yeah, whatever, that's a character, you're free to interpret him how you wish as long as you're not equating him with the actual figure. We can't necessarily, for example, impose headcanons from the musical onto our perceptions of the real people.

On a tangentially related note I also feel that we tend to have an obsession with "relatability" in characters, and historical figures as an extension of that. As a whole we could stand to learn more about how to love both characters and people without having to relate to them. Which is not to say you can't love them for that, but... we also don't need to be going out of our ways to interpret them as being relatable to us in order to love them, which is where the problem lies. That's where this problematic lack of actual history comes from. In the same ways that you don't need to, and probably shouldn't, endorse all their opinions, you don't need to relate to them in every way in order to love them as a historical figure. Love is a complicated thing and I am frankly thankful that it is.

Anyway, this is getting very long. My main point is that history and fandom can coexist, but they call for different treatments and shouldn't ever be equated. I'm not specifically condemning anyone—as I said, I think most of it is well-intentioned interest that gets a little out of hand. I've been guilty of it myself before and I don't want anyone to assume that I think I'm "above" it; I just try to be hyper-aware of it. I love that people discover interests in history through fandom, I just think being mindful is absolutely imperative when you're engaging with it. You can, and should, love history—just be careful that you're not bending the truth in order to do that.

[selvepnea]

Picking up bg3 again

[designernishiki]

I will maybe make a bigger post at some point about other characters’ dnd classes but. thought about it. kiryu would be a battlemaster fighter multiclassed into oath of vengeance paladin. end of statement

[the-finch-address]

After reblogging those last two posts featuring the one and only Jesus of Nazareth (beloved) I figure now's a good time to remind anyone following me that The Dog Yard is and has always been fairly derisive (for lack of better word) of modern day Christianity. Not against God or even religion as a whole, but strictly Christianity. This wip is my way of exploring and working through my past and the trauma that I've endured at the hands of Christians, AS a former Christian myself. I don't want to get into a "not every Christian" argument, I know there's a share of "good" Christians out there, but this is about my personal experiences and how I am healing from them to this day.

Anyway, that being said, please be aware that this project very well may offend you in how it approaches the topic(s) at hand if you yourself identify within the Christian religion. So...this is your official heads-up to blacklist the wip in advance (or just unfollow/block me) if that's what you feel is best.

Thanks!

[kavehater]

I THINK I FINALLY HAVE AN ANSWER TO ERIS’ QUESTION AFTER ALMOST TWO YEARS !!!

[shoveitevil]

ok lock in time

[nil-the-glitch]

actually yknow what, no. this is not being limited to discord, yall get it too.

some general cooking tips (in which there is a brief senshi posession):

moisture is the enemy of crispy skin. pat dry with paper towel, and if you have the time and spoons, give a thorough but even coat of baking powder and let sit uncovered in your fridge overnight. this will dry out the skin nicely. for pork belly, create a tight foil boat so that only the skin is showing, and cover in salt to draw out moisture, repeating a couple times if necessary.

furikake seasoning, for the fellow rice lovers, is just nori (seaweed), sesame seeds, sugar, and msg/salt. you might have most if not all of these things already in your kitchen.

chai spice mix is just cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg, & allspice.

pumpkin spice is just cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and ginger.

to cure your own bacon, you only need water, white and brown sugar, and a non-iodized salt - himalayan pink salt is not iodized, if you cannot find butchers curing pink salt. from there, you can add any seasoning/flavoring you want.

the truly adventurous may cook their rice in green tea for a fresh clean taste.

you can tell if a fish is truly fresh by their eyes - clear and bright is fresh, while cloudy is older or potentially has been frozen.

it's cheaper to buy a large block pack of ramen from your local asian market and repackage the bricks into sandwich bags, than to buy a box of individually packaged ones such as maruchan or top ramen.

when buying meat, look at it's fat content - more fat marbling usually means more tender + flavorful.

you can save onion skins and other vegetable scraps to make your own broth with. you can also save bones for this. mix and match ratios to create your ideal flavor.

bay leaf will always make a soup or broth taste better, but Watch Out (they are not fun to bite into on accident).

msg is, in fact, not The Devil, that was just a racist hate campaign against the chinese and other oriental races. it's literally just a type of salt. it is no more dangerous to eat than any other type of salt.

washing your rice is important because it not only improves flavor and texture by removing excess starch, but it also helps reduce any residual pesticides or dirt, or even insect fragments (please remember that rice paddies are essentially giant ponds that all kind of things live in and swim around. you should also be washing all your produce in general.)

please salt your cooking water for pastas, it just tastes better and you will be happier for it.

boiled potatoes are also improved by salt water.

if you hate vegetables, please consider trying them fried in butter or perhaps bacon grease. it is healthier to eat them fatty than not at all.

healthy food does not in fact have to taste miserable. thats a lie. they are lying to you. free yourself from your blandness shackles. enter a world of flavor.

[yvesette]

WE GOT MARRIED!

ִ ࣪𖤐 ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── choi seungcheol

SUMMARY: ── the premise of the popular reality show, "we got married," was simple: you and another celebrity would pretend to be married for two weeks, navigating various romantic and domestic challenges together. when your partner turns out to be choi seungcheol however, feelings complicate your perception of reality.

PAIRING: [choi seungcheol (s.coups) x f!reader] GENRE: [eventual smut, domestic fluff, angst, idol!au, fake dating, one bed, all the good shit]

CW: afab!reader, nicknames (angel, babygirl, baby, good girl), arguing (it’s sorted out), soft!dom ?? + pussydrunk cheol, big!dick cheol, fingering, penetration, safe sex (ofc), possessive!cheol, hair pulling, light choking

      ℘　　◌　　﹒　⠀ ꢾ꣒⠀　 ׅ⠀ㅤ　⑅

── pre-show interview:

interviewer: "thank you for joining us today! can you tell us a little about yourself and what initially made you hesitant to join 'we got married'?"

you fiddle with your hands and compose yourself into a smile.

“of course. i’m y/n, and to be honest, when i was first approached about the show, i had a lot of reservations. being an idol, my life is already under constant scrutiny, and the idea of faking a marriage on national television was daunting. i was worried about how my fans would react and whether I'd be able to genuinely connect with my on-screen partner."

interviewer: "what eventually convinced you to participate?"

you think, “it was a mix of curiosity and encouragement from my friends and management. they believed it would be a good opportunity for me to show a different side of myself, one that isn't always visible on stage. plus, the idea of experiencing something as unique as a reality show marriage was too intriguing to pass up."

interviewer: "do you know who your partner will be yet?

you smile nervously, “no, i don't. it’s a complete surprise for me. all i know is that it's someone from a well-known group. i’m really curious to find out who it is!"

interviewer: "that must be exciting! can you share what your ideal type is for the camera?”

you grin thoughtfully, “my ideal type is someone who is kind-hearted and takes care of the people around them. they should have a strong sense of responsibility but also listen and understand. a good sense of humor is a must — oh and physically, i guess i find myself drawn to someone with a warm smile and expressive eyes. someone who can be both charismatic on stage and down-to-earth in everyday life."

interviewer: "finally, do you have any worries or concerns going into the show?"

you: "i’m a bit worried about how awkward it might be at first. there’s always that initial nervousness when meeting someone new, and this situation is quite intense. i hope we can get past that quickly and have a good time together.”

—

day 1:

you stood in front of the door to a luxurious townhome, hands fidgeting nervously at your sides. this would be your new home for the next two weeks. the camera crew gave you a nod, signaling it was time to head inside. taking a deep breath, you open the door and step into the living room, where a warm, cozy ambiance greets you. as you set your bag down, you hear the sound of the front door opening again. you turn, breath caught in your throat, and a man, looking slightly familiar to you, enters the room.

he was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with dark jeans that accentuated his tall, athletic frame. his broad shoulders and well-defined chest were subtly outlined by the fabric of his shirt, hinting at the strength beneath. the open collar revealed a glimpse of his collarbones, which added an effortlessly sexy touch to his appearance and you thanked god you’d been paired with someone this attractive, as selfish as it sounded. his face was a perfect blend of boyish charm and mature masculinity and his dark hair was styled in a slightly tousled manner.

the man in front of you carried a polite smile. for a moment, you both stood there, slightly taken aback by the reality of the situation.then, as if on cue, you both bowed to each other in polite, awkward unison. "hello!" you said at the same time, voices overlapping. realizing what happened, you both laughed nervously and bowed again, this time with even more formality.

“hi, i’m y/n," you said, smiling despite your nerves.

“i’m seungcheol. it’s nice to meet you,” he said, returning your smile.

there was a brief pause as you both sized each other up, trying to gauge the other's reaction. something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn't quite place it.

your heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned on you and you remembered his face from music and award shows. you were almost certain the man in front of you was a member of seventeen and your mind was almost more eased you were paired with another idol.

as you shook his hand, your mind raced with a million thoughts. should you mention that you know who he is? would it be weird? awkward?

before you could decide, seungcheol spoke again, his voice cheerful and inviting, “i know this is a bit of an odd situation, but let's make these two weeks memorable, okay?”

you nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his face and your cheeks flushed slightly.

the first task was to explore the house together, finding little notes and hints left by the producers about upcoming challenges and activities. as you moved from room to room, seungcheol’s playful nature shined through. he made jokes about the odd decorations and even tried on an oversized apron in the kitchen, to which he realized how easily he could make you laugh.

in the living room, you found a note instructing you to cook your first meal together. seungcheol looked at you with genuine curiosity in his eyes. "do you cook often?"

you shook your head, “i try, but i’m not the best. how about you?”

he shrugged, “i can manage, could you hand me those eggs?”

working side by side in the kitchen, you both stumbled through the recipe, exchanging glances and giggles as you tried to make sense of the instructions. seungcheol’s presence was comforting; his easygoing demeanor made it feel less like a staged activity and you had to remind yourself of your situation every once in a while.

“careful!" you warned as he nearly knocked over a bowl of flour.

“oops," he laughed, catching it just in time. "oh my god, thanks for warning me.”

when the meal was finally ready, you both sat down at the coffee table, a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie settling in.

“you know," he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, "i have to admit, i was a bit of a fan of yours before this."

you almost spit out your food and your eyes widen in surprise, “you were?”

he nodded, a shy smirk playing on his lips. "yeah, i may or may not have listened to…a few, songs.”

you couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of disbelief, “well," you said, unable to hide the smile on your face, "i guess we both have some fangirling/fanboying to do then.”

seungcheol chuckled before taking a sip of his drink, “looks like we're off to a good start then."

later that evening, as you both settled on the couch to go over the day's events, you found yourself stealing glances at seungcheol when he wasn't looking. the cameras captured every moment, but by now, they had become background noise. seungcheol’s arm rested casually on the back of the couch, his presence reassuring.

"so what did you think of our first day together?" seungcheol asked, turning to you with a gentle smile.

you smiled back, feeling more at ease now. "honestly , it was fun. a bit overwhelming at first, but i think we handled it pretty well."

he nodded, his expression thoughtful. "yeah , i think so too. it’s all about getting comfortable with each other, right?"

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "exactly."

as the night continued, the two of you talked about your experiences in the industry, sharing stories and laughing over funny moments. the more you talked, the more you realized how much you had in common. it was easy to forget the cameras were even there.

—

day 5:

it had been a few days of filming and your arranged marriage with the charming seungcheol was off to an...interesting start. between the awkward getting-to-know-you interviews and staged "newlywed" activities for the cameras, you were still trying to find your footing in this bizarre situation.

one minute, you and seungcheol were bickering like an old married couple over whose turn it was to do the dishes, (it would always end with him insisting he did the chore.) the next, you'd catch him shooting you an ambiguous look from under those ridiculously long lashes, causing a fluttery feeling to erupt in your stomach. it was a constant back-and-forth of feeling flustered yet intrigued by your new husband.

today, the production crew had you and seungcheol participate in a silly pillow fight "challenge" meant to showcase your playful newlywed dynamic. what started off as an innocent, goofy bout of whacking each other with the plush objects quickly devolved into an all-out war.

giggling breathlessly, you launched another fluffy projectile at seungcheol’s head, who had now affectionately insisted you call him cheol.

he taunted with a roguish grin, deflecting your pillow attack.

you both scrambled for ammunition, whacking each other relentlessly. you shrieked as a particularly fierce blow sent you tumbling backwards onto the bed.

in a flash, seungcheol pounced - pinning your wrists above your head as he straddled your waist. his sculpted body pressed against yours, stealing your breath away.

"i win," he murmured huskily, drinking in your flushed, disheveled state. a few dark strands of hair had fallen over his forehead, making him look ridiculously pretty and you both froze as the heated tension reached a tipping point, chests heaving from the exertion of your pillow fight.

then, all at once, realization seemed to wash over both of you. this had crossed a line, strayed too far from the realm of pretend into something that felt a little too real for your comfort. seungcheol quickly released your wrists and rolled off you, running a flustered hand through his tousled hair as the cameras cut and the producers applaud your chemistry ‘played up’ for the show.

“i…sorry, i got a bit carried away there," he muttered gruffly, unable to meet your eyes.

you pushed yourself into a sitting position, clutching a pillow protectively to your chest. “no, it's...yeah, me too," you mumbled, cheeks burning.

as seungcheol swiftly excused himself, you couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper and more complicated had been irrevocably awakened on your end, you watched your fake husband’s broad back retreating towards the door, then he paused and glanced over his shoulder at you.

despite the flustered awkwardness of moments before, his gaze openly raked over your disheveled form in a way that made heat lick through your veins. you clutched the pillow tighter, suddenly feeling very exposed under his molten perusal.

as quickly as the blazing look had appeared, it faded to a neutral expression once more as he gave you a brisk nod. "i’ll...see you later," he murmured in a rough rasp before ducking out of the room, leaving you flushed and wondering what the hell had just happened.

—

day 9:

the sweltering summer heat had prompted the producers to film a scene with you and seungcheol enjoying some relaxation at the rooftop pool.

you tried not to stare too openly as seungcheol stripped off his shirt, revealing a toned, sculpted torso that made your mouth go dry. rivulets of glistening water trailed tantalizing paths down those firm abs as he sank into the cool pool with a contented sigh.

“you coming in or what, y/n?" he flashed you a lopsided grin, sending your pulse into an erratic stutter.

shaking yourself free of your momentary thirst, you made a big show of daintily dipping a toe in to test the temperature, “oh my god it’s freezing.” you step out of the water onto the poolside and shiver from the contact.

cheol arches an incredulous brow at your overly dramatic reaction. then without warning, he kicked up an arched wave that splashed you squarely in the face.

you sputtered in outraged shock as he cackled at your drenched, bedraggled state. you cursed at him and then tilted your head, “oh you’re gonna get it now…”

retaliating, you cannonballed directly towards him, prompting a yelp as he tried dodging the cascading wall of water.

what started as an innocent pool dip quickly devolved into an all-out splash fight, filled with laughter and shrieks, water spraying everywhere. at one point, seungcheol grabbed you around the waist from behind, holding you flush against his chest as you squealed and squirmed playfully...

as the sun dipped low on the horizon, it set the sky ablaze with vibrant shades of orange and red bled across the heavens, intermingling with streaks of brilliant pink and lavender. the surface of the rooftop pool shimmered like liquid amber, endlessly rippling and refracting the spectacular colors above.

as the playful battle subsided, you found yourselves standing chest-deep, catching your breath. seungcheol, hair plastered to his forehead, offered you a sheepish grin. his hand, reaching out to brush a stray strand from your eye, hesitated in mid-air.

the air crackled with a sudden tension, a shift from playful banter to something more intense. you held his gaze, unsure of where this unexpected touch might lead. the playful facade, for a moment, seemed to falter, revealing a vulnerability that sent a shiver down your spine.

as the camera crew wrapped their filming of the segment momentarily, cheol leaned against the pool deck, catching his breath, while you treaded water, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

“you know," seungcheol said, his voice slightly breathless, "for someone who almost drowned me with pool water ten minutes ago - you’re pretty fun to do this whole fake marriage this with.”

his compliment caught you off guard, a blush creeping up your cheeks. you looked away, fiddling with the straps of your swimsuit and snorted, “you would have survived, trust.”

you bit your lip, “but you’re not…awful, to do this with. i’m glad it was you.”

his biceps flexed as he pushed himself off the wall, the water cascading down his toned arms. he smiled and ran a hand through his hair, which was now drying in messy waves.

you had to admit to yourself, in another situation, he was pretty close to your type. your mind took a sharp turn and a thrilling image of cheol, those big arms holding you close, pinning you down. he could easily manhandle you, and the thought sent a forbidden thrill through you.

taking a deep breath, you forced your gaze away from him, the delicious heat replaced by a cold wave of reality.

—

that evening, the producers insisted that as a "newly married couple," you and seungcheol needed to share the bedroom set for an authentic experience. your heart pounded as the camera crew ushered you both into the dimly lit bedroom, pulling the covers back invitingly.

"alright you two, get nice and cozy for us!" the director called out teasingly. "we’ll get some candid footage of your first night spent in the same room together as husband and wife."

you shot seungcheol an awkward look, but he just gave you a reassuring smile as he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. the cameras rolled as you climbed stiffly into bed together, maintaining a prim distance at first.

however, as soon as the crew lights winked off and you were left in intimate shadows, cheol’s touch grew bolder. his arm snaked more fully around you, hand skimming along your curves as he tugged you flush against his solid frame and he watched your face for approval.

"just go with it for the cameras," he murmured in your ear, making you shiver at the feel of his warm breath fanning your neck.

you gave a shaky nod, trying to ignore the rampant spiraling spawning low in your belly from his nearness. but as the man next to you nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a contented sigh, you felt yourself instinctively relaxing into his embrace.

before long, the camera crew was dismissing themselves, leaving you and seungcheol tangled together intimately. you started to pull away, murmuring about giving him some space, but his arms only tightened around you.

“stay," he rumbled in that deep velvety tone that made heat curl low in your belly. "please. just for tonight."

you couldn't help but overthink the situation as you lay cocooned in seungcheol’s strong arms later that night. his slow, even breathing tickled the nape of your neck as he slumbered peacefully behind you.

this whole scenario - cuddling intimately, sharing a bed, his persistent insistence that you stay - it was quickly becoming difficult for you to differentiate reality and the fake of your friendship, or whatever you could call it.

realistically, there was no way seungcheol actually had romantic feelings for you, right? you were just some virtual stranger he'd been assigned to act affectionate towards for the sake of entertainment.

no, you reasoned to yourself, cheol was simply an incredibly dedicated performer who happened to be devastatingly good-looking. he was merely playing the role of an infatuated newlywed husband exceptionally well. all those lingering looks, the electrifying touches, the way he'd pulled you insistently into his embrace - it was just him staying committed to the act. you were just a tolerable person for him to pretend to be married to for the cameras. that’s all this was. if you started projecting more meaning onto your partner’s actions, reading into lingering touches and heated glances, you'd only end up getting your hopes up and complicating things.

chewing your lip, you willed yourself not to dwell on the intimacy of your current position - pressed snugly back against his toned chest, legs tangled together, breaths mingling. it didn’t mean anything. he was just...really, really good at making this fake marriage feel real.

you lay there for a long while, keenly aware of every rise and fall of seungcheol’s chest against your back, the whisper of his warm breath fanning your nape. his arm was a solid, heated band around your waist, anchoring you to his slumbering form.

carefully, you began extracting yourself from his arms, trying not to rouse him. he made a soft grumbling sound of protest as you slipped out of bed, his arm reflexively tightening for a moment before falling away. you froze, watching him with bated breath, but he merely rolled onto his back with a gusty sigh, face relaxing back into peaceful slumber.

for a long moment, you simply stood there drinking in the sight of him - all tousled ebony hair, chiseled features, lips slightly parted as he slumbered. your heart gave a powerful thud, desperate longing temporarily overwhelming rationality.

then, you wrenched your gaze away, wrapping your arms around yourself as you crept towards the door on soft feet and went to your separate bedroom. this was for the best. putting some distance between you before things inevitably became more tangled and awkward.

—

day 12:

"you’re burning it!" seungcheol suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the pan on the stove where the sauce was starting to smoke.

by late afternoon, you were both working on preparing dinner in the kitchen. the producers had given you a complex recipe to follow, and the pressure was mounting. seungcheol was chopping vegetables while you tried to manage the stove, but things weren't going as planned.

you glanced over, feeling flustered. "i know, i know! i’m trying to fix it!"

"well, you need to do it faster! we can't serve burnt food," he retorted, his tone sharper than you expected.

you felt a surge of irritation. "why don't you come over here and do it then if you're so concerned?"

seungcheol put down the knife he was holding, his jaw tightening. "i’m just trying to help. there’s no need to get defensive."

you turn off the stove and face him, your frustration boiling over. "it feels like you're criticizing everything i’m doing. this is supposed to be fun but—“ you sigh.

seungcheol’s expression softened slightly, but he didn't back down. "i’m not trying to criticize you. i’m just stressed because i want this to turn out well. we’re both under a lot of pressure.”

his words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. you felt a warmth bloom in your cheeks, a prickling awareness that transcended the confines of the tiny kitchen. it wasn't just the heat from the stove anymore; it was the sudden, electrifying tension that crackled between you.

whatever this "show marriage" was quickly becoming, it was growing increasingly difficult to remember it wasn't real.

his gaze held yours, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. was it just the stress of the competition, or was there something more? maybe it was the way his thumb brushed against yours as he reached for a spatula, a touch that lingered a beat too long. maybe it was the way his voice seemed to drop an octave whenever he spoke directly to you.

the air grew thick, the playful banter of the morning replaced by a charged silence. you weren't talking simply about cooking anymore. this felt like something more, something simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

suddenly, a loud clang from the living room shattered the spell. the cameraman had accidentally knocked over a vase, the sound breaking the intimate bubble you'd somehow created. seungcheol offered a grin of reconciliation, the tension momentarily broken.

as you both cleaned up the broken vase, a playful jab exchanged here and there, you couldn't shake the feeling that cheol’s feelings for you mirrored your own. maybe it was just wishful thinking, fueled by the close proximity and manufactured intimacy of the show. but a tiny, hopeful spark ignited within you. perhaps, just perhaps, this fake marriage could be a gateway into something else.

the air crackled with an unspoken apology after your argument in the kitchen. the rest of the day was filmed in a tense silence, punctuated only by the polite pleasantries expected for the cameras. seungcheol stole glances at you every now and then, his gaze laced with regret, but you studiously avoided his eyes.

dinner was a quiet affair, the weight of the fight hanging heavy between you. as the last crew member packed up their equipment and said their goodbyes, a heavy sigh escaped seungcheol’s lips. you remembered you only had two more days left with him before you parted ways and continued your daily, busy lives.

you lean against the doorframe of cheol’s assigned bedroom. he’s reading something foreign and doesn’t notice your presence at first. "hey," you started hesitantly, the artificiality of your fabricated married life suddenly feeling suffocating. he looked up, his eyes filled with a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"i shouldn't have snapped at you," he said, his voice rough. "this whole thing... the pressure, the cameras... it just — you know, gets to me sometimes.”

you understood. the world only saw the polished, perfect idols on stage, not the stress and anxieties that gnawed at them behind the scenes. partially this show felt like a risk of balance between speculation and approval. “i know," you admitted softly, surprised at the tremor in your voice. "it gets to me too."

silence settled again, but this time it wasn't tense. it was a comfortable quiet, an unspoken understanding blooming between you.

you took a seat on the mattress and asked him what he was reading.

“amour,” he says, flipping the book over to show you the cover.

“amour?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "isn’t that french for love?"

cheol rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "yeah, it is. found it at the airport bookstore. it’s about a journalist who travels around france asking people about love."

a playful glint sparked in your eyes. "funny," you said, tracing the title with your finger, “didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

a wry smile tugged at the corner of seungcheol's lips. "maybe i’m just curious," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur that made you nervous. "especially after all this... 'pretend' marriage stuff." he paused, his gaze flickering from the book to your face. "maybe the line between pretending and feeling is a little more blurry than we thought."

he words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. the playful banter you'd used as a shield these past 2 weeks suddenly felt inadequate. you met his gaze, the air crackling with a new kind of tension.

"maybe it is," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

the glint in your eyes softened into something deeper, something that mirrored the sudden intensity in cheol’s gaze. he set his book down on the nightstand with a soft thud, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence that had descended upon the room.

he took a slow movement towards you across the bed, his eyes searching yours with a depth that made your breath catch. you could practically feel the unspoken question hanging in the air, a question your heart already knew the answer to. there was a palpable tension between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer.

without another word, seungcheol closed the remaining distance between you. his hand reached out to cup your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. his thumb brushed against your soft skin, a gentle caress that spoke volumes. it was as if he was trying to communicate everything he felt in that simple touch, the unspoken emotions and the growing connection between you.

his eyes flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, asking for permission without uttering a single word. you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

then, he leaned in. the kiss was hesitant at first, a soft exploration that tasted of unspoken longing and a newfound vulnerability. hips lips were warm and tender against yours, moving with a gentleness that made your heart ache and charged with the electricity of forbidden desire and the sweetness of a connection that transcended the cameras and the manufactured reality of your "marriage."

as the kiss deepened, seungcheol’s other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. you responded instinctively, your hands sliding up to rest on his broad shoulders. the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. the kiss grew more passionate, an unspoken promise of the bond forming between you.

his fingers threaded through your hair, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. the heat of his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart mirroring your own. every touch, every movement was filled with a mix of tenderness and urgency, a dance of emotions that neither of you could deny any longer.

in one swift movement, seungcheol lifted you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around you securely. the sudden shift made you gasp, breaking the kiss momentarily. he took advantage of your parted lips, diving back in with a new intensity. his hand tangled in your hair, gripping it roughly as he deepened the kiss. the raw hunger in his actions satisfied a need you’d had since the moment you met him and ignited a new thirst in you for more than a kiss.

his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your jaw and neck. seungcheol’s breath was warm against your skin, each kiss sending shivers down your spine. "cheol-ie," you breathed out, your voice shaky with desire. "i’ve needed you so bad.”

he groaned against your neck, the sound vibrating through you and making your core tighten with need. "you have no idea how much I’ve wanted you babygirl,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing. the nickname makes you feel weak in his arms as they roam over your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

you began to move against him, grinding your hips down on his lap. the friction elicited a deep, guttural moan from his chest, his grip on your hair tightening. his lips continued their path along your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin. each touch, each kiss, was driving you both closer to the edge.

your hands slid under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours and see the body you’d thought about and fantasized about at the pool. his muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out another low groan. the sound sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you grind harder against him.

feeling the need for more, you reached for the hem of your top, and without hesitation, cheol’s hands followed suit, helping you remove the garment until it fell forgotten to the floor. his eyes drank in the sight before him, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you. with a passion that matched your own, he leaned in to capture your lips in a feverish kiss, his movements urgent and commanding.

seungcheol’s hands moved to your breasts, his touch sending electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. his lips followed suit, trailing hot kisses down your neck and collarbone before finding their way to your exposed skin. the sensation of his warm mouth on your sensitive flesh made you gasp, a moan escaping your lips as you arched into his touch.

as he sucked and massaged your breasts with a hunger that bordered on desperation, you couldn't help but whine his name, the sound echoing in the room like a symphony of desire.

his only response was a deep, guttural groan, the sound vibrating through you.

cheol’s hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements and matching your rhythm. the sensation of his hardness pressing against you was intoxicating, heightening the desire coursing through your veins. “i need you," he whispered hoarsely against your neck, his breath hot and heavy.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. the intensity you saw there took your breath away. "i need you too, cheol," you whispered back, your voice filled with the same raw need.

"show me," he commanded, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative tone. "show me how much you want me."

you bit your lip and your mind was urging you to shed the last remnants of clothing separating you from seungcheol’s touch. with a sense of urgency, you sat up, for just a moment to rid yourself of your pajama shorts and panties. he gently helped you slip out of the remainder of your clothes until you were completely bare in front of him.

as you returned to straddle him, seungcheol’s eyes darkened with possessiveness, his slightly dumbfounded gaze raking over your exposed form with undisguised lust. you reached for his hand, guiding it to where you needed him most.

his fingers moved in circles with a skill and reverence that bordered on worship. as he teased and caressed you with one hand, his other grabbed the back of your neck to pull you into his orbit.

"cheol," you gasped, your voice filled with need as his touch sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. "pl-please, want you inside of me..”

his response was a low, guttural growl, the sound sending shivers down your spine. he pressed his fingers against your throbbing center, the sensation driving you crazy, and leaned against your ear, “i know angel, i know, need to prep you.”

he slipped two long fingers inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. you couldn't help but arch impossibly back into his touch, a high pitched moan escaping your lips as he filled you completely. his fingers curled inside you and slipped in and out, stretching you and sending waves of pleasure over you that you could feel building closer and closer to your climax.

cheol pulled your face closer to his by your neck as he pumped his fingers in and out of you and whispered in his deep voice words of praise, “you’re so good for me.” his voice was rough in responsive to your obedience.

“such a good girl.”

the words sent a thrill through you, and your breathing that had gotten more quick by the second let all the air escape from your lungs as you completely gave in to the sensations in your body. you reached your peak screaming his name and collapsing onto the bed with your back. now on top of you, cheol guided you down from your high, and his movements became slower and more gentle until his fingers pulled out of you.

you felt his hand move to your lips, gently pressing against them. with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, you parted your lips, allowing cheol to guide his fingers inside your mouth so you could taste yourself.

“that’s it babygirl,” he said, a low groan escaping his lips. the sight of you, so willing and eager for his touch, only fueled the fire burning inside of him. he pulls his fingers from your mouth to press gentle kisses on your lips and your cheek - a sharp contrast from the intensity that had taken over him before.

as the passion of the moment continued to build, you couldn't help but notice the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. seungcheol’s arousal was evident, his desire matching your own in its fervor. a surge of need washed over you, and you found yourself craving him in a way that was almost overwhelming.

desperation clawed at your insides, urging you to beg for him, to plead with him to take you in his arms and fuck you until you saw stars. but as you glanced into his eyes, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, a hint of fear lurking beneath the surface.

you reached for him, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through his pants. the intensity of his desire was palpable, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. you wanted him, needed him, in a way that bordered on obsession. but as you moved to undo his pants, you felt him hesitate, his hands shaking slightly. "i…i don’t know if i can," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with a sigh.

you whispered, your voice soft and filled with sincerity. "i want this, with you."

a flicker of relief flashed across his features, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your words. but the worry still lingered in his eyes, the fear of causing you pain evident in every line of his expression. he reached down to free his member from the confines of his sweatpants, discarding the clothing with a swift movement. as his length sprang free, you couldn't help but gasp at the sight before you. he was almost comically big, his arousal standing proudly against his abdomen, thick and pulsing with desire.

a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through you as you watched him, desire pooling low in your belly. you couldn't help but wonder how he was going to fit inside of you, the thought sending a thrill of anticipation racing through you. seungcheol reached for his wallet on the nightstand, retrieving a condom with practiced ease and slipped it on.

cheol lifted your legs over his head, moving himself between them, a gasp escaped your lips at the sudden change in position. you felt him slowly enter you, his size stretching you in a way that was both exhilarating and slightly painful. the stretch stung, sending a jolt of sensation coursing through your body, but it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, filling you completely and leaving you breathless with desire.

“‘s-so big,” was all you could breathe out with awe in your voice.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he murmured with both hands holding your legs over his shoulder so he could stretch you out as much as possible. bottoming out, he studied your face for signs of discomfort and deciding he could move. as seungcheol began to thrust gently at first, you felt his movements cautious and tender, as if he were testing the waters. each slow push and pull sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, his size stretching you in ways that ignited a fire deep within.

“feels so fucking good, your perfect pussy…” he groans into your neck.

you couldn't help but vocalize how good you felt as well, “don’t stop baby, please.”

something about that nickname makes his movements became more urgent, more desperate, as he surrendered himself to the pleasure of being inside you. with each thrust, you felt yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo. his thrusts became rougher, more dominant, as he took control of the rhythm. with a growl of desire, he reached for your throat, his grip firm but not constricting.

the sensation of his hand around your neck sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you, the combination of pleasure and pain driving you wild with desire. "who makes you feel this good?" he demanded, his voice rough with need.

you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. "you," you screamed, your voice filled with rawness. "It's you, cheol."

he flipped you over onto your hands and knees, positioning you perfectly for him to take you from behind. you gasped at the sudden change in position, the feeling of vulnerability and excitement coursing through you. but before you could react, seungcheol’s hands were on you, grabbing your ass possessively as he pulled you towards him. the sensation of his grip on your flesh sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine, curved for him to hit your perfect angle.

as you thought you couldn't take any more, you felt his hand tangle in your hair, pulling you back towards him with a force that left you breathless. “want you to be mine..” he choked out, his words claiming you.

“‘m yours," you gasped, your voice surrendering yourself completely. with a final, desperate thrust, cheol buried himself deep inside you, sending you both hurtling over the edge into ecstasy. pleasure exploded through every nerve ending in your body as you both reached the peak together, your cries of passion mingling in the air as you rode out the waves of bliss together.

seungcheol slowly withdrew from you and as you caught your breathe, he removed the condom, discarding it thoughtfully before turning his attention back to you. his demeanor shifted, his previous intensity giving way to a tender concern. leaning in, he pressed soft kisses to your tired face, his touch gentle and reassuring. "are you okay?" he whispered, his voice filled with genuine concern as he traced a soothing hand along your sweaty cheek.

you nodded, a contented smile gracing your lips as you bask in the warmth of his affection.

he tenderly cleaned you with a warm, damp cloth that he quickly fetched from the bathroom, his movements gentle and careful as he ensured tour comfort. once satisfied, he disposed of the cloth and returned to your side, pulling the covers over the both of your naked bodies.

you lay in each other's arms, the quiet of the room enveloping them like a comforting embrace. the air was filled with a sense of contentment but also questions rang through your mind. unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you spoke up. "cheol, earlier... did you mean what you said?" you asked, her voice tentative yet filled with hope.

seungcheol turned to you, his gaze soft yet filled with meaning. “every word," he replied, his voice steady and sure. “if you want — then you’re mine, and i’m yours.”

your mind buzzed with uncertainty and you sigh, snuggling closer to him. the realization that your time together on the show was fleeting weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over the intimacy you had shared.

"seungcheol," you begin, switching from the nickname you’d been using. “i can’t help but wonder...after filming ends, what happens to us? we haven't known each other for long, and...” you gnawed at your lip, “what if we’re just caught in the moment?”

his expression faltered, a flicker of hurt flashing across his features at your words. he had been so certain of your connection, so confident in the depth of your feelings for each other, that your doubts came as a painful blow.

he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently cupped your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. "caught in the moment?" he repeated, his voice filled with an anxiety-ridden tone you had never heard before. "is that really what you think this is?"

your chest clenched at the anguish in seungcheol’s eyes, the weight of your words settling heavily between the two of you. you hadn't meant to hurt him, hadn't realized the impact your doubts would have on him.

"no, seungcheol, that's not what i meant," you hurried to explain, sitting up — your voice thick with regret. "i just... i’m scared. scared that what we have isn't enough to survive once the cameras stop rolling."

seungcheol sat up, shoulders slumped, the weight of your uncertainty pressing down on him like a boulder. "i need some time to think," he said, his voice strained. without another word, he stood up, dressed himself with the clothes he’d discarded on the floor as you protested, and left the room, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing through the silence.

you curled up under the covers, the emptiness of the room amplifying the loneliness you felt.

—

day 13:

the next morning dawned with a heavy sense of awkwardness hanging in the air. as you emerged from your room, the weight of last night’s conversation still pressed on your chest. cheol was already in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he prepared breakfast. the usual warmth and easy smiles were conspicuously absent.

"good morning," you said softly, trying to break the tension.

"morning," he replied flatly, not turning to face you. his tone was distant, a stark contrast to the intimate moments you had shared just hours before.

breakfast was a quiet affair, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. every clink of cutlery felt amplified, every glance avoided a reminder of the rift that had formed.

filming started shortly after, the crew bustling around to set up the day’s scenes. you and seungcheol went through the motions, but the chemistry that had once made your interactions effortless now felt forced. the cameras captured your strained smiles and awkward pauses, the tension between you palpable.

by the end of the day, the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved tension was nearly unbearable. as the crew packed up and the lights dimmed, you felt a deep sense of despair settle in. the connection that had once felt so strong now seemed fragile.

the newly familiar routine of brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas felt strangely hollow without seungcheol’s presence by your side. as you slipped under the covers, the cool sheets seemed to amplify the emptiness of the space beside you.

—

day 14:

the next day dawned with a sense of finality, the knowledge that it was the last day of filming adding a layer of bittersweet tension to the air. you went through your morning routine mechanically, each action feeling heavy with the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved emotions between you and your fake husband.

the filming started early, the crew bustling around to capture the last few scenes of your time together. you and seungcheol interacted politely, tension still lingering. you found yourself stealing glances at him, wishing for a moment alone to bridge the gap, but the demands of filming left little room for personal conversations. the day moved swiftly, and before you knew it, it was time for the post-show interview.

—

post-show interview:

you sat in the brightly lit room, the camera trained on you as the producer asked the final questions. the weight of the moment pressed on you, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.

interviewer: "so, how do you feel now that the show is ending?”

her voice was gentle but probing.

you paused, considering your words carefully. "its been an amazing experience," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "i’ve learned so much about myself and about what i want in a relationship. and...i’ve come to care for seungcheol deeply. more than i expected."

the interviewer leaned in, sensing the depth of your emotions.

interviewer: “can you elaborate on that? how has your relationship with seungcheol evolved?"

you nodded, your heart pounding. "at first, it was just about getting to know each other, but as the days went by, i found myself feeling…a certain way about him. he’s kind, supportive, and has this way of making me feel seen and valued. i’ve realized that i fell for him and that my feelings were real.”

a pang of regret hit you, remembering your doubts and the hurt in cheol’s eyes. you wondered if you should share your feelings fully, fearing the consequences of the media. but then, you decided—if there was a chance that he would see this interview when the show aired, perhaps he would understand the depth of your feelings and know that you regretted your words.

“i’ve fallen for seungcheol," you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. "and i regret the doubts i voiced. i wish i could take them back. i hope... i hope he can see how much he means to me."

the interviewer smiled softly, sensing the raw emotion in your words and the scoop she had just gotten. “thank you for sharing that," she said gently. "it’s clear that this experience has been transformative for you."

—

the weeks after the show wrapped up were a whirlwind of activity as you dived back into your work. your agency had announced a comeback, and preparations were in full swing, leaving little time for anything else. yet, despite the hectic schedule, thoughts of seungcheol lingered in the back of your mind, a constant undercurrent to your busy days. you cherished the rare quiet moments in your dorm, where you could catch up with your girl friends or simply relax. even during these times, you found yourself checking your phone, hoping for a message from the person you longed for. as the days passed with no word, a sense of uncertainty grew, mingled with the hope that he would reach out once the show aired.

when the show finally did air, you watched your post-show interview with bated breath, wondering how seungcheol would react. the raw honesty of your confession, the vulnerability you had shown, left you feeling exposed but kept you waiting next to your phone.

then, the call came. hearing cheol’s voice, filled with emotion and understanding, was like a balm to your weary heart. his words of reconciliation and his desire to give your relationship a real chance were everything you had hoped for. the prospect of meeting him off-camera, to explore your connection without the pressures of the show, filled you with a renewed sense of excitement and somewhat worry.

the next day, you found yourself standing outside a small, cozy café, your heart racing with anticipation. the door opened, and there he was—your same old cheol, looking just as nervous and hopeful as you felt.

he smiled as he saw you, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart flutter. "hey," he said softly, stepping closer.

"hey," you replied, your voice quiet and your eyes watery.

without another word, he pulled you into a hug, holding you close. the warmth of his embrace, the familiar scent of him, it all felt right.

you both sat down, ordering drinks and talking about everything and nothing. the conversation flowed easily, the tension from the show slowly melting away as you reconnected on a deeper, more personal level.

"i’ve been thinking about you every day," he confessed, his hand reaching out to cover yours. "i want to explore this, see where it leads. no cameras, no scripts—just us."

you nodded, tears of happiness glistening in your eyes. "i want that too, cheol. i want us to have a real chance."

as seungcheol and you left the café, a small crowd had gathered outside, eager to catch a glimpse of the two of you together. camera flashes illuminated the sidewalk as fan-sites and news networks alike snapped photos, their interest palpable in the air. reporters shouted questions, their voices blending into a cacophony of speculation about your relationship.

online, netizens dissected every detail, analyzing photos and videos from the show and your recent café outing. comments and posts flooded social media platforms, with hashtags trending worldwide. the public's curiosity and excitement seemed to know no bounds as they speculated about the nature of your relationship.

cheol took to his instagram, posting a photo of the two of you holding hands outside the café with a quote from “amour,” the novel he had read previously.

— “ there will come a time when you believe everything is finished; that will be the beginning. “

—

end.

[tarysande]

The best part about coming back to the source material after a looooong time is you sorta get a fresh look at canon in comparison to whatever the dominant strains of fanon have become. Or, in fact, whatever your own dominant strains of headcanon have become.

I mean, yes, Garrus “I’m not a good turian” Vakarian gets infinitely cooler (and more competent!) by pretty much every metric as the storyline progresses. He does. But fresh out of ME1 and into ME2 through his recruitment, I find myself genuinely amused by how thin the veneer of badass is over a pretty dominant core of straight-up nerd sprinkled with idealism mixed with self-doubt.

When you have Garrus in the squad all the time (and thus get all his ambient dialogue and remarks), you really pick up on the number of times he calls out bad behavior, unethical actions, cruelty, and rule-breaking, especially in ME1.

He’s not actually a hothead who can’t abide rules of any kind. In fact, most of the time he’s pretty pro-law-and-order, and he gets amusingly hall-monitorish when people are breaking rules he considers important and worth following.

Fundamentally, Garrus chafes when his sense of what is just is at odds with what the authorities do about that injustice (or what they stop him from doing). And I would hazard a guess that the reason his actions seem so intense or harsh or "of course we should have shot down that ship in the middle of the Citadel" is indicative not of his impatience but of the degree to which he thinks the authorities have failed to uphold that justice. We know he can be patient. He's a sniper. His whole modus operandi on Omega is precision kills without civilian casualty. But when that long fuse finally burns down, he goes from zero to shooting down ships in the middle of the Citadel in what looks (from the outside) like a heartbeat.

And yes, injured pride hastens the burning of that fuse; he doesn’t like losing. Or admitting defeat. Or failing.

Having just replayed his recruitment mission, a few things really stood out to me this time.

The merc bands really hate him--and they also reluctantly admire him (he's described as smart, resourceful, dangerous, idealistic, brave, slippery; they all agree they only way they managed to get this far is by isolating him and employing dirty tactics). I mean, there's literally a station-wide announcement that Omega can return to "business as usual" once Archangel is out of the picture because he was disrupting things so completely.

The way Garrus blames himself for the deaths of his squad is so freaking turian. Failure reflects on the leader who places his people in danger they can't handle, not the individual who fails. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Yes, Sidonis betrayed him, but the person Garrus blames the most? Is himself. For trusting Sidonis in the first place. For raising Sidonis to a position where he had the means and opportunity to harm others--and the weakness of character to turn coat, to save his own hide, instead of dying to protect the others.

Garrus mentions more than once that he was trying to emulate Shepard. And his tone always implies that he knows he failed because Shepard would never have let a Sidonis into the fold. Again, he's blaming himself. Like a good turian. Yes, he wanted to avoid the red tape and bureaucracy of C-Sec, but his code--Archangel's code--certainly aligns with Paragon Shepard's morality (with a Garrus Vakarian twist).

And since it wouldn't be meta without adding a Tara's Headcanon Twist ... I've always wondered why "Archangel" when it's such a ... human concept. But this time, when I noticed how he spoke about Shepard's influence, and how quickly he brushes aside the name when she asks him about it, I wondered if it wasn't actually his way of honoring the mythology of the dead woman whose example he was trying to follow. Not that Shepard is a God he's worshiping, but ... there is something about the way he talks about her. Garrus doesn't make himself over in the image of a God, though; he's the soldier, the right hand, the avenging angel responsible for carrying out divine punishments suited and proportional to the crimes committed, the rules broken, the selfishness or cruelty of the perpetrator.

[chisatowo]

Also crossing my fingers and hoping for baby Emu event it's not gonna happen we like just got a baby event but I can dream ok

[punkpandapatrixk]

🏖Your Own Standards of Beauty ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

I’ve seen one too many times East Asian YouTubers, when talking about EA’s ‘rigid standards of beauty’ giving this sense of defensiveness or helplessness—because it’s culture, right? With every fibre of my mixed ancestry I loathed that particular brand of apologist behaviour.

‘Nature is busy creating absolutely unique individuals, whereas culture has invented a single mold to which all must conform. It is grotesque.’ – U.G. Krishnamurti

Up until fairly recently, I was still struggling with comprehending the thought process behind this ‘invention’ of a grotesquely small and narrow mould of beauty and conduct to which ALL East Asians must abide lest you’re a total disharmonious failure. After some long and hard rumination, frustration, accompanied by occasional bouts of repugnance, I think I finally get ‘why’.

Almost ALL people in East Asia ALL LOOK THE SAME!!! By nature!!! LMAO LMAO People can ONLY have black hair and black eyes LMAO Ahahahohohhahah I think these Asians were never ‘socialised’ to appreciate variety. Hahhh that’s so pathetic. If this really is the reason, man, it’s pathetic as fuck. Ionno tho. You think I’ve figured it out.

All I know is that East Asians must repent for all the sins they’ve committed against childhood, individuality, creativity, aaand society and Humanity itself. Yes, Humanity. Standing on the side of all genetically diverse peoples of Asia, such as the Ainus, Mongols, Uyghurs, to some extent the Zainichis, and sooo many other ‘anomalies’ who, in recent history, have been cast aside and treated poorly only because they don’t ‘fit in’ to the ideals and cultures of the main races of some purebred fucks.

For all I care, the part of East Asian culture that has birthed this infamous ‘rigid standards of beauty, and, conduct’ can go to fucking hell. If you’re the type of person who’s even the slightest bit proud—or defensive—of this you can go and fuck yourself. No one should be proud of that kind of a racist, fascist, repulsive, little bitch mindset. Are you a little bitch? I ain’t one.

I am a Supreme Bitch! Imma be myself and do whatever the fuck I want and look however I want. And if my society can’t take that? Those types of people—Asian or no Asian—can die on the wrong side of history! I. AM. MY OWN. PROTOTYPE.

perspective: Why BUSHIDO Is The Root of All Social Problems in Japan by Let’s ask Shogo

documentary: WE ARE X on YouTube (watch before it’s taken down LOL)

‘X challenged a conservative Japanese society and showed us a new way to be. They started a revolution, honestly.’

‘Be proud!! Be proud of yourself! We are!! X!!!’

deck-bottom: X(!?!) The Wheel of Fortune, Priestess of Ambition, Gold Magus (Johannes Faustus)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – A Light of Innocence in this Insanely Debased World

playlist: silly playlist for silly people with rare songs!! by Rita wild

the TYPA beauty you are – Page of Cups

You are someone who’s known for being quite childlike. It could be that you do look young, but it’s mostly your mannerism. Technically speaking, it’s just YOU being the happy pill that you are. Listen, some of you tuning into this Pile could be dark and sombre on the inside—especially if you have a significant Scorpio/Pluto about you or if you’ve had a very unhappy childhood—but the way you’re perceived on the outside is totally bright, beautifully soft and pleasant, and dang, people really be liking your aenergy when you’re in a room.

You’re the type of beauty that exudes ‘purity’ in the most innocent way, no matter how you look or dress. You could be perceived as ethereal or unreal. otherworldly in a sense that you don’t seem to fit in this dimension. Are you an alien? Are you a goddess? Are you a fairy, elf, or an anime character? People may not have the exact words to describe you but you’re INTERDIMENSIONAL is what’s going on.

It isn’t just your physical beauty or the attractive way that you smile. People may not realise this themselves either but what’s truly beautiful about you is this VIBE or AURA that you generate from having a vastly pure heart. No, no, not pure in the sense that you never think sexy thoughts, what? Pure in the sense that you really operate from your Higher Heart and has very little ego driving your ambitions in Life~^_☆-v

effects on the world around you – Ace of Cups Rx

Basically, you just love beautiful things. You always look for beautiful things. And you make an effort to surround yourself with things you find beautiful in your own standards. And in a way, you’re also the kind of person who sees beauty in everything and everybody. You’re the type of person who sees Light even in a narc’s darkest corners of their blackened heart (if they had one), which is really such a beautiful thing but could also prove DANGEROUS!

It’s wonderful to have childlike wonder but it ain’t cool whatsoever to be childish enough not to acknowledge the presence of evil fucks. Bad people exist, OK? Very predatory and murderous people exist, OK? And it’s a spectrum. And you’ve been such an easy target for those on the milder spectrum of psychopathy! Babe! OMG You’re often drained of good aenergy after catering to the stupid whims of very narcissistic, histrionic, pathetic, selfish and whiney fucks.

STOP THAT. Of all the Piles, you’re the type of soft beauty who’s often underestimated and taken for granted just because you’re always so positive. If not ‘positive’ per se, you’re perceived as ‘strong’, so those types of people don’t even feel shame for constantly taking and demanding your aenergy. Keep allowing that long enough and your physical beauty could be drained out of you by the time your First Saturn Return jaywalks along and smacks you in the head.

keep being you, Glorious One – 6 of Swords Rx

Truly, you’re a silly angel who holds the power to absorb other people’s pain and gloomy feelings. But if this is your main pile, thing is, you might not have learnt how to release or transmute the negativity you’ve absorbed from your surroundings. It is paramount that you learn to call upon divine protection so that you’re shielded from the Evil Eye of those who are envious of your beauty and feel silly in your purity. Your Spirit Guides aren’t saying that you should stop being innocent, right?

A Soul like you is very rare in this perverted world. Some people might say, ‘They don’t make people like you anymore…’ WRONG. You’re the catalyst, if anything. By your example, there’s gonna be MORE people who are gonna be comfortable in their purity. Knowing that there’s nothing wrong with them for being this way. Fully comprehending that it is this world that’s gone too insane, and DEBASED. And this world has been this way for far longer than people realise. I mean, I’m sure you’re aware of how inhumane most people were in the medieval times LOL

Keep being the innocent and pure you, Glorious One. What you’re being advised to do is learn to set healthy boundaries from which you can still shine your Light safely. I’m being told that many of you choosing this Pile, due to your heightened sense of aesthetic, might want to have a social media presence or any kind of public platform where you’re free to share bits and pieces of your beautiful Life as a form of your Lightwork. Some kind of a lifestyle influencer?

I’m thinking of channels and blogs that typically share aesthetic daily vlogs and stuff like that—like nemui atelier on YouTube. You know what I mean; I don’t know what I mean XD

YOUR BEAUTY KILLS🔻💙

story of your evolution – Priestess of Prosperity

a legacy of authenticity – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – An Unexpectedly Romantic Dreamer of Luxury

playlist: songs like 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 (MITSKI) by song with love

the TYPA beauty you are – 2 of Cups

Ah~! You are such a dreamy and romantic beauty! You’re soft, elegant, sweet and lovely, with a kicking spice for those who would get on your bad side LMAO You’re actually a lot tougher than appearances give but most people don’t always get this until they’ve gotten to know you. For the most part, at first glance, at first encounter, you’re a sweet goddess, who probably gets projected on a lot.

You really have an unassuming quality about you. So then, people think there’s not much going on within and think it’s easy to typecast you into something, with some simplistic label. People think it’s easy to figure you out and classify you into some kind of a dream girl who’s always going to be nice, warm and friendly with everybody. You’re not. You’re a totally self-respecting babe. Actually, you really hate it when people act like they know you.

When people act like they’re close, buddy-buddy with you, it’s super annoying and depending on your mood that day, you could sometimes feel this urge to break people’s faces. But you don’t do that; you’re too nice. And you’ve got a plethora of coping mechanisms to deal with how annoyed you are with your surrounding XD Good for you!

effects on the world around you – 5 of Swords Rx

First of all, I think many of you tapping into this Pile love shopping. Retail is definitely your therapy. Is this good? Is this bad? Depends, I guess. You tend to spend money gregariously or consume a lot of food, or buy a lot of aesthetic knickknacks, or buy a lot of arts and craft as a means of therapy. Deep down, you’re somebody who has a lot of anger or a general sense of dissatisfaction with the world you’re a part of and this rage, almost, needs to be channelled creatively.

There’s a perpetual sense of disgust inside of you. You’re keen to observe and notice how much Humanity is failing. Everything that is ugly about society and people in general disgusts you. That’s why it’s important for you to live in beauty or indulge in creativity. That’s why it is paramount that your immediate surrounding, that your own Life, within what you’re able to control, is beautified to the max. You could be quite desperate in this pursuit because this is some kind of an overcompensation for the beauty and creativity that you feel is lacking in the world.

Your aenergy is kinda reminding me of this quote by the iconic Edie Sedgwick when describing why she dressed up the way she did:

‘When I was girl of the year and superstar and all that crap, everything I did was really…motivated by psychological disturbance. But I’d make a mask out of my face because I didn’t realize I was quite beautiful…I had to wear heavy black eyelashes like bat wings and dark lines under my eyes. Cut all of my hair off and strip it silver and blond. All these little manoeuvres I did out of things that were happening in my life that upset me. I’d freak out in a very physical way, and…it was all taken in a fashion trend.’

In fact, I think all of her famous words here could resonate with you. You are what trend-setters and superstars are made of, that much of your effect on the world is certain~

keep being you, Glorious One – Queen of Pentacles

Really, that’s all dandy as long as you can make a living out of your pursuit of beauty and creativity. This about you is really something that you can utilise as a means of therapy, self-care and self-improvement because you really are an artist, one way or another. It would be wonderful if you could monetise your beauty and creativity in some trendy way.

If you feel that you’re not particularly good at any kind of ‘real’ art, then you can ‘serve face’ to help other people sell their shit. You don’t think this is smart enough? Muses are often people who don’t do art—rather they inspire Art in the minds and hearts of other artists. Truly, you are an artist; but those of you tuning into this Pile who feel like you’re not one…you are potentially someone’s Muse.

Luxury is yours for the taking. But a lot of people in this world pursue luxury and some form of fame for vapid reasons and that often makes people very unhappy. Your Spirit Guides are saying that you do have a talent for balancing modern money-making and self-care. I think what they mean to say is that, you can be the prototype for how people can be completely and uniquely offbeat whilst still maintaining a good work-life balance.

After all, you do remember how much people like to project on you, right? Well, use them to make Life a lot easier! XD After all, it’s not like their projection and labelling would be useful any other way LOL🐙

YOUR BEAUTY KILLS🔻💜

story of your evolution – Priestess of Luxury

a legacy of authenticity – Green Historian (Herodotus)

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – A Ghostly Bitch Witch Who’s Quite Literally a Fucken Sigma

playlist: Everything Is Still Under Control by Mabisyo

the TYPA beauty you are – Queen of Wands Rx

You, are, by nature, magical. You’re incredibly magnetic and this ain’t even something you’ve needed to work on; it all comes naturally. If anything, it seems you’ve needed to learn the very hard way how to shield yourself from aenergy vampires. You’ve needed to work on your boundary. This is because it took you such a long time to realise most everybody around you was nothing but anklebiters. These were people who just wanted to be seen orbiting you because doing so would elevate their status or image.

Whether or not you’re aware of it, you’re quite literally thee IT girl. You’re also THAT girl, because a lot of what you do and just who you are is very aspirational. Well of course aspirational to the motivated ones; to the weak, lame-ass ones? Almost everything about you is irritating. And most people are really lame, don’t we all agree on this? So you may have felt like you’re really quite an unlikeable character. WRONG. Dead wrong. It’s not you; it’s your lame-ass environment.

You’re a Queen of Passion who’s been living in peasant quarters, figuratively speaking. You’ve been surrounded by misers who don’t even understand why it’s deeply important for them to raise their own standards of authenticity. Thing is, they can’t afford to be authentic. It’s probably not entirely their fault—after all, peasants are highly dependent on thee System. Not you. You’re the menacingly magnetic bitch witch of a system buster!

effects on the world around you – 8 of Cups

As much as you make an effort to be left alone, you magnetise admirers to no end. This is reminiscent of Greta Garbo’s famous quote, ‘I never said, "I want to be alone". I only said, "I want to be left alone". There is a whole world of difference.’ It’s true with you as well. You’re not necessarily an antisocial bitch who hates people; you just want to be left alone by gluttonous gossipers and silly simpers. You find it hard to grasp why people behave unreasonably in society, all, the, time.

You yearn for a more intellectual world where people behave honourably, which is quite paradoxical considering you’re often perceived as quite scandalous in your behaviour and lifestyle choices as well. For example, you could be gay or queer? You could desire to defy social norms such as ‘having to marry by a certain age’? You either reject social norms or you live completely opposite to what’s expected of your gender, nationality or age. You don’t like being told how to live your Life as if you couldn’t work it out yourself. It's YOUR Life, right?

It’s MY Life! My Story! Is what you say.

You’re the kind of super bad bitch that gives no one permission to decide how you should sail your ship. You’re at the wheel so you’re gonna sail the world however best you know. You’re gonna learn a ton because you’re not afraid of detours or delays or whatever—you could meet accidents, hopefully not fatal ones, but you’re going to learn. That’s what growing up well is all about for you. And if you meet the right kind of audience, your whole AURA is going to empower them to do just the same for themselves~

keep being you, Glorious One – 4 of Cups Rx

You are destined for an exciting Life. In fact, you’re meant to have an audience, have some kind of impact on the world, you’re meant to become some kind of a famous person. Could be a celeb, yeah, but in this social media era, literally everybody can have their own unique kind of celebrity, right? You’re meant to be seen, heard, listened to, watched, analysed (LOL), and learn from.

You’re somebody who’s rare and your perspectives are deeply needed by this world. This world that’s often blindsided by optical illusions. Of all people, you’re the only one who’s not getting sucked into the mirage of mass media and deceitful politicians. You’re the one who’s noticing where the lies are all at. And you need to point that shit out, spell it out for other people to see what’s truly going on in this world.

You could gain enemies, lots of them, in fact; but you are definitely gaining a massive following far greater than that if you remain authentic and courageous. Stay spooky. Stay scandalous. Stay gloriously YOU~ You’ve no idea just how much that Light of yours is needed in this world of long shadows. Keep your Third Eye open and keep your divine protection. Most people have yet to catch on to the one thing that makes YOU superfluously attractive: a courageous Heart that seeks to liberate others from the chains of their own cowardice.

YOUR BEAUTY KILLS🔻🧡

story of your evolution – Priestess of Luck

a legacy of authenticity – Green Magus (John Dee)

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[lollobarcollomanonmollo]

women artists that you should know about!!

-Judith Leyster (Dutch, 1609-1660)

During her life her works were highly recognized, but she got forgotten after her death and rediscovered in the 19th century. In her paintings could be identified the acronym "JL", asually followed by a star, she was the first woman to be inserted in the Guild of St. Luke, the guild Haarlem's artists.

-Artemisia Gentileschi (Italian, 1593-1656)

"... Si è talmente appraticata che posso osar de dire che hoggi non ci sia pare a lei, havendo fatto opere che forse i principali maestri di questa professione non arrivano al suo sapere". This is how the father Orazio talked about his nineteen year old daughter to the Medici's court in Florence.

In 1611, Artemisia got raped, and she had to Undergo a humiliating trial, just to marry so that she could "Restore one's reputation" , according to the morality of the time. Only after a few years Artemisia managed to regain her value, in Florence, in Rome, in Naples and even in England, her oldest surviving work is "Susanna and the elders".

-Elisabeth Louise Vigèe Le Brun (French, 1755-1842)

She was a potrait artists who created herself a name during the Ancien Règime, serving as the potrait painting of the Queen of France Marie Antoinette, she painted 600 portraits and 200 landscapes in the course of her life.

-Augusta Savage (Afro-American, 1892-1962)

Augusta started making figures when she was a child, which most of them were small animals made out of red clay of her hometown, she kept model claying, and during 1919, at the Palm Beach County Fair, she won $25 prize and ribbon for most original exhibit. After completing her studies, Savage worked in Manhattan steam laundries to support her family along with herself. After a violent stalking made by Joe Gould that lasted for two decades, the stalker died in 1957 after getting lobotomized. In 2004, a public high school, Augusta Fells Savage Institute of Visual Arts, in Baltimore, opened.

-Marie Ellenrieder (German,1791-1863)

She was known for her portraits and religious paintings. During a two years long stay in Rome, she met some Nazarenes (group of early 19th century German romantic painters who wanted to revive spirituality in art),after becoming a student of Friedrich Overbeck and after being heavily influenced by a friend, she began painting religious image, getting heavily inspired by the Italian renaissance, more specifically by the artist Raphael. In 1829, she became a court painter to Grand Duchess Sophie of Baden.

-Berthe Marie Pauline Morisot (French,1841-1893)

Morisot studied at the Louvre, where she met Edouard Manet, which became her friend and professor. During 1874 she participated at her first Impressionist exhibition, and in 1892 sets up her own solo exhibition.

-Edmonia Lewis or also called "wildfire" (mixed African-American and Native American 1844-1907)

Edmonia was born in Upstate New York but she worked for most of her career in Rome, Italy. She was the first ever African American and Native American sculptor to achieve national and international fame, she began to gain prominence in the USA during the Civil Ware. She was the first black woman artist who has participated and has been recognized to any extent by the American artistic mainstream. She Also in on Molefi Kete Asante's list of 100 Greatest African Americans.

-Marie Gulliemine Benoist (French, 1768-1826)

Daughter of a civil servant, Marie was A pupil of Jaques-Louis David, whose she shared the revolutionary ideas with, painting innovative works that have caused whose revolutionary ideals he shared, painting innovative works that caused discussion. She opened a school for young girl artists, but the marriage with the banker Benoist and the political career Of the husband had slowly had effect on her artistic career, forcing her to stop painting. Her most famous work is Potrait of Madeline, which six years before slavery was abolished, so that painting became a simbol for women's emancipation and black people's rights.

-Lavinia Fontana (Italian, 1552-1614)

She is remembered for being the first woman artist to paint an altarpiece and for painting the first female nude by a woman (Minerva in the act of dressing), commissioned by Scipione Borghese.

-Elisabetta Sirani. (Italian, 1698-1665)

Her admirable artistic skills, that would vary from painting, drawing and engraving, permitted her, in 1660, to enter in the National Academy of S. Luca, making her work as s professor. After two years she replaced her father in his work of his Artistic workshop, turning it into an art schools for girls, becoming the first woman in Europe to have a girls' school of painting, like Artemisia Gentileschi, she represent female characters as strong and proud, mainly drawn from Greek and Roman stories. (ex. Timoclea Kills The Captain of Alexander the Great, 1659).

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is story non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being; 1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so. 2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad. Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: See the Masterlist for Summary. Contains usual tags.

Chapter title is from Growing Up by Fall Out Boy.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2

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You were not, and never had been, in the business of fighting your wars bloody. You fought them smart, and you fought them dirty. You wouldn’t call yourself callous; if anything, you could use a little more misanthropy in your life, but your moral compass was… subjective. You would steal bread to feed your family, you would cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught, and, as you had spent the last six months learning, you would quickly cover your hands in all the blood and grime in the world so that nobody else would have to.

Which was, unfortunately, not a figure of speech.

You let yourself lie in the mud, the cool texture soothing your always-warm skin, and fought the urge to sleep. You could hear someone shouting your name, strung together with an impressive array of obscenities and barely audible over whatever phase of the argument your companions were on, but god, you just could not bring yourself to give a fuck. Sure, the blood on your face was already dry, and the hay mixed into the mud itched and needled at your skin, but you’d live. You’d survived much worse, and at this point it was scientifically impossible for you to get sick, so everyone could just come back for you in a week or two. Maybe three. However long it took for the nightmare sheep to die and Vought’s stock prices to be lower in the mud than where you lay. Maybe a bit longer. Maybe until Homelander wasn’t a you problem anymore. Maybe they’d feed his corpse to the nightmare sheep when they came to get you.

You felt yourself smile a little at that thought. Dead Homelander, weak and pathetic; golden hair grimy; awful blue eyes milky and hollow. Dead Homelander, hands unable to hurt you, mouth unable to twist into that horrific smile. Dead Homelander, pretty face mauled and stupid outfit smelling like shit from being dragged in it to the barn. Dead Homelander, being torn to tiny pieces and eaten by sheep. Dead Homelander, the worst thing that ever happened to you, finishing his reign of terror shat out next to a creek somewhere.

Your smile covered your whole face at this point. It probably looked weird and creepy—the dire, life-or-death situation you were smack dab in the middle of not doing it any favors—but god, it was too perfect a daydream. You could live here forever, in the mud, with your fucked-up little fantasy on loop.

Tragically, you barely had twenty seconds in this ideal world when something hit you in the face.

“What the fuck?!" You sat up, ignoring the hand offering aid from Frenchie, glaring around the barn for your assailant.

“Bout time you join the land of the living, Love. We’ve got a fucking problem, and you don’t get to nap until it’s fixed.” Across the barn, Billy Butcher shot you a cocky grin that didn’t meet his eyes. To be fair, you weren’t sure it ever did.

“You didn’t have to hit me in the face, you ass.”

“That was me,” Frenchie cut in. “And you should thank me; Monsieur Butcher was going to shoot you.”

“You were going to shoot me?!”

“Would’ve felt the same either way, wouldn’t it?” Butcher shrugged.

“No! I’m not bulletproof, you dick!”

“You’d live.”

“So would MM if you shot him! I don’t see you gearing up for that!”

“Well, MM wasn’t sleeping in the middle of a crisis!”

You rolled your eyes, meeting Butcher’s glare from across the room. "Oh, please, you just wanted an excuse to try and kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, Sweetheart, it’d look more like this.” Butcher’s arms started to move behind him, where you knew he kept his gun, and you braced yourself, hands fisted at your side.

“Hey!” MM stepped forward, arms raised. “You, if you shoot anyone, I will throw you out to the sheep, I swear to God. And you,” he turned his gaze from Butcher, “turn it down; it’s the middle of winter in Maine, and I feel like I’m standing in the goddamn sun.”

You blinked, realizing that the room had rapidly become impossibly hot, and everyone had moved far as possible from where you stood. The new, alien feeling that sat under your skin was alight and sharp, almost buzzing through you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back. MM lowered his arms, a look of what might have been concern flashing across his face, but turned away as the conversation returned to the murder-sheep issue.

You took a few steps back; nobody stopping you or asking for your contribution, fully allowing you to shrink into the wall. You felt your hand move up to your throat, trying to slow the tense, short breaths passing in and out of your body.

“Try thinking of something that calmed you down before.”

You jumped, not having noticed Victoria Neuman move to your side, and gave her a small frown as you responded. “What?”

“Something familiar. Anything that takes the edge off. Trust me,” she gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It won’t get easier on its own. And that,“ she gestured to your hand. “Won’t help it long-term.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to drag your hand from your throat. Something happy. Something happy from before. What had been happy before?

Briefly, city lights flashed in your head, a song on a stereo accompanied by your own hum ringing silently in your ears. It vanished just as fast, but something in your chest loosened, and the feeling waned. Glancing over at Neuman, you saw a small nod of approval before she left your side, allowing you a second to steel yourself before following.

You found yourself standing next to Annie, who gave you a quick and, as far as you could tell, genuine smile before returning her attention to the tense conversation between Butcher and Stan Edgar. The former's voice had grown to a shout, somewhat ranting about a goose-chase for the bioweapon supposedly on this farm, the latter just watching with a cold, indifferent gaze.

“Are you done, Mr. Butcher?” Edgar’s voice betrayed no anger or fear; the only signs of emotion on his face his tightened lips and raised brows. “Because if you are, I would finally be able to share my plan to get us out of this hellhole you dug us.”

Butcher scoffed, but before he could call Edgar either a cunt or a twat—both seemed equally plausible at the moment—the stone-faced man continued.

“While I will be the first to admit that an error was made in regards to a possible weapon against Homelander, I could not call today a complete waste. After all, you introduced me to this… charming young woman. The Anomaly,” he turned to you, and a shiver ran up your spine as he used your supe name. “Is going to help us.”

“Uh,” you paled under the pressing eyes of your team. “No. I don’t, uh, I… no.”

“Yes. You will,” Edgar said. “The V variant you carry is Homelander’s attempt to duplicate the original, the one used on Soldier Boy. Most likely a good attempt. And though the original V was unstable and less than suitable in any practical means, it was potent. I do not think I would be wrong in guessing you are just as strong as Soldier Boy, and likely immortal as well.”

“No.” Annie cut it in. “If you’re going to suggest we use her as fucking bait, the answer is no.”

“I was not going to suggest that, Ms. January, why would I waste such a good product on sheep bait? I am proposing that she simply eliminate our issue. I hear sheep catch fire quite easily.”

Everyone was looking at you now. Waiting for you to step forward and say something, anything. But you were frozen, mouth slightly agape, a million scenarios playing out in your head. You saying yes, and failing to do anything but start a forest fire, the barn burning around you as everyone remained trapped inside. You saying no, and the sheep breaking in and eating everyone alive. You saying yes, but losing control and hitting someone, watching them burn to ash as they screamed. You saying no, and everyone just rotting away in the barn; you yourself unable to do the same. The silence hung in the room, taunt with the way breathing had become labored in your chest, and you thanked a god you didn’t believe in as Annie stepped forward.

“She can’t control it,” she told Edgar. “We’ve been working on it for months, and she’s gotten better, but she can’t. It’s more complicated than it usually is, and it’s new.”

“Well, then I guess we should start to pray she gets lucky. I simply will not die in a barn in Maine, and unless anyone else has a plan, I must insist we start moving. Before the structural integrity fails us, and we all become dinner.”

The room was quiet for another moment, Annie looking as if she wanted to argue, but MM spoke first, his voice laced with reluctance.

“He’s right. We don’t have time to come up with something better.” He sighed, turning to you. “You’re the best bet we’ve got.”

“Still a shit bet,” Butcher muttered.

You agreed.

But Edgar was right.

“Everyone will need to stay inside,” you said softly. “Even if it works, this could get… messy.”

Murmurs of agreement were made, and you turned to Kimiko. “You’re the strongest,” you told her. “You can open and close the door the fastest. Crack it open, I’ll run through, and slam it as fast as you fucking can.”

She nodded, moving to the barn's entrance. As she passed you, she paused, giving your arm a small squeeze and you a small smile before she continued. You smiled back, trying to ignore the flash of her anxiety running through you at the touch. Everyone else began to move to the opposite side, hiding pointlessly behind hay and barrels. Neuman paused, though, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Something calm,” was all she said before turning to follow Edgar.

Something calm.

City lights. Music. Cheap burgers and cheaper beer. Carefree smiles. Music.

You stood before the doors, giving Kimiko a small thumbs up. She raised her hand, fingers falling from five to four, from four to three.

Two.

One.

You sprinted forward, waited for the sound of a slam behind you, and let go.

The world lit up.

It felt like a hurricane was spilling out of you, like a part of you was being ripped out and launched away. You could see the fire, but not quite feel it. If anything a chill had set itself through your veins, your skin becoming flushed not from heat, but exhaustion. Already darkness was creeping into your eyes, the effort to control the flames splitting the sky taking a toll. It was like a volcano trying to control its eruption, if any of its magma was under the control of the mountain.

But you had to. You could pass out after; you could sleep for a hundred years, but right now you had to control it.

The blood and muck on your skin had been long seared off, the clothes on your back turning into foul-smelling smoke. Your job was long finished now, nothing but bone and sinew remaining of the sheep, but a new problem emerged.

You couldn’t stop. You were burning and burning and burning, and the feeling in your skin wasn’t dulling, but growing. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline, yanking you up and up, away from relief.

Something calm, Neuman’s voice echoed in your head, and you closed your eyes, trying to hear that long-gone music and see those phantom lights.

It wasn’t working. And you were only getting closer to an edge, a drop into something you’d been so careful to avoid. It was eating you, pushing you further and further. You'd jump into the freezing water of the river but it would just evaporate. You’d bury yourself in the mud but it would just boil, feeding into itself.

Sing, a small part of you begged the rest. Just sing. No use hiding yourself if you’re dead.

You gave in, and began to hum. An empty tune, your voice on key but strained. Slowly, you felt yourself come to, your body returning to your control. You followed the song to the end, and as it ended, just before you collapsed on the ground, relief rushed through you. The fire had lingered, a saving grace from your song. You hadn’t felt any effects, with no hallucinations plaguing your vision before it went dark.

————

The first thing you realized when you woke up was that someone had moved you from the dirt to rest against a tree. The second was that you were no longer naked. Someone had apparently managed to find you clothes, and though they were itchy and a few sizes too big, you were still grateful. The third was that you smelled like shit. You had thought you were covered in blood before, but that now seemed as if it had been bubbles and floral perfume. One might have thought thoroughly barbecued sheep would’ve smelled at least tolerable. They would’ve been wrong. Because you were covered in what of it hadn’t dissipated into smoke, and you smelled like a dumpster full of rubber and fish.

The only person who would come near you was Frenchie, who had forsaken his sense of smell years ago, and had evidently dressed you and pulled you to where you currently sat. Everyone else stood closer to the fence, waiting for their ride back to New York to pull up on the dirt road. You sat alone, eyes still drooping, startled out of your own head as Edgar’s voice cut through the air.

“I must say, I am glad to see my faith in you was not misplaced.”

"Yeah, well,” you shrugged, looking up at where he stood, only a few feet away. “I wouldn’t ask for an encore.”

“I am afraid I may have to. In our prior introduction, it seems you deeply undersold your capabilities.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t have time for self-evaluation when I was being kept in a fucking dungeon.”

Edgar sighed. “I must apologize for that. Though I was not made aware of Homelander’s little escapade, I recognize that you might feel as though I hold some blame.”

“Not an apology,” you muttered. “And I find that hard to believe.”

“Unfortunate, but I cannot force you to accept the truth.” He looked you up and down once before continuing. “And regardless, it is not what I am here to say.”

“I was wrong only once today, and it was when I said you were just as strong as Soldier Boy. You are not. You are much, much stronger. Not physically, of course, but overall. Overall, your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. I know you wish him dead, I would imagine you prefer it to be painful, and very few deaths inflict the suffering felt when one is burned alive. I suggest you learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. You were looking for a weapon, and I am telling you that you are it. Do not waste yourself.”

And he walked away, leaving your mouth open and your eyes wide. You stood to follow him, painfully pulling yourself to your feet, but made only a few steps before you felt a rock hit your back, and you whipped around to find Frenchie behind you, holding a hose.

“Starlight suggests you take a shower before our drive back,” he said, gesturing to the hose.

You blinked, looking back at Edgar, only to watch him be loaded into an armed van. Your brow wrinkled, a part of you wanting to chase the car down and demand Edgar elaborate, but you just turned back to Frenchie with a sigh.

“Sure, just count down before you–“

You cut yourself off as the freezing water hit you in the face.

Thankfully, Frenchie had thought to bring a towel—a gross, possibly moldy towel—but a towel nonetheless, and he handed it to you the moment the hose-down was finished. As his arm stretched out, you noticed a deep gash poking out from his sleeve.

“I can fix that,” you gestured to him. “I mean, I’ll have to touch you, but I won’t tell anyone what I feel, and you won’t have to let MM give you stitches.”

Frenchies frowned, looking at his arm as if only he now noticing his injury. “Are you sure? You must be tired, and–“

“I’ll be fine. Won’t hurt me for more than a few seconds.”

He hesitated, but gave you a nod, rolling up his sleeve before offering his injury to you. You took a deep breath and placed your hand over the wound. It hit you fast, it always did, the onslaught of emotions. You were suddenly twice as tired, a powerful and painful guilt sitting on your shoulders and a self-loathing that was familiar, but not yours, carved itself into your chest. After a second to adjust, you started to work. Your own arm, mirror to Frenchies, began to sting as the skin turned raw and red. You bit your tongue, ignoring it and focusing on keeping yourself going until the cut was gone, the skin was healthy, and there were no signs of any issues in the first place.

“Huh,” Frenchie stated at his unmarked arm, glancing at your own, which was already fully healed itself. “Merci.”

“No problem,” you offered him a grin. “Just don’t tell Butcher you accepted my evil supe healing.”

“You do not,” he frowned slightly. “You do not feel everything, yes? Just, simple, children’s emotions?”

It was your turn to frown. “Children’s emotions?”

“Oui. Joy, fear, sadness. No more.”

Oh. You hesitated to answer, debating if it was worth the lie. It would make him feel better, you reasoned with yourself.

But he wouldn’t trust you, a little voice whispered. And he’ll hate you.

You settled on the truth. You didn’t think you could stand another person hating you.

“No, I feel… everything,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying before. I won’t tell anyone.” You paused, watching his face carefully as you continued. “I won’t tell Kimiko.”

A look of shock passed over his face, but Frenchie nodded. “Good. Good. Tres bien,” he gave you a grateful look. “Merci.”

“Anytime,” you gave him a close-lipped smile, and the two of you returned to your group just as your ride pulled up. As you loaded into the car and began the long, tense drive, Edgar’s words replayed on loop in your head.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. Learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. Do not waste yourself.

Do not waste yourself.

You thought back to the last time you saw Homelander. Though it had been from a distance, and he had not even known you were there, your body had frozen. Fear, white-hot and all consuming, had coursed through you. You had almost passed out from it. If you had been face-to-face with him, it might have killed you all on its own.

Do not waste yourself.

You couldn’t fight Homelander. You just couldn’t. You could be capable of overpowering him tenfold, and you still wouldn’t be able to fight him. You knew, in your heart, that his eyes would meet yours and you would be sent right back into that tiny white room, feel his hands holding you down, feel that hollow, empty hopelessness leak from you into the air.

But he needs to die, a small voice whispered in your head. And you’re the Anomaly. You could kill him. You’re the only one who could stop him forever, make sure he never hurts anyone, ever again.

No. No, you couldn’t be the only one. Yes, the biochem weapon had been a bust, and no one else could possibly rival Homelander and come out of it alive. But there had to be other options.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s.

Do not waste yourself.

An idea started to form in your head. A terrible idea. A reckless and dangerous idea. But an idea all the same. And as it became fully formed, you managed to convince yourself more and more that it might somehow work.

Now all you had to do was convince everyone else.

——-

“No. No fucking way.”

The air in the meeting room was tense, mouths hanging open in shock. MM was glaring at you with a disdain you had previously only seen directed at Butcher, Butcher watched at you with a reverence you hope to never see on his face again, Grace Mallory looked all at once disgusted, intrigued, and impressed, and President-Elect Singer frowned as he listened, but gave you a nod to continue regardless.

“I know it’s crazy, but the problem last time was that you couldn’t control him, right? And I could. You can have us isolated, making sure we're out of the public eye and away from any possible collateral until you need us. I’d keep an eye on him, keep him in line, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”

“I, for one, think this is an amazing idea. Best one I ever heard,” Butcher grinned at you. “Worst case scenario, it goes sideways, he kills her, we knock him out, and everyone still wins.”

“What part of ‘he wouldn’t be able to hurt me’ don’t you understand?” You snapped back.

“What if he blasts you with his fucking reactor?” MM pushed. “Makes you just another human? What’s your plan then?”

“That wouldn’t work on me,” you responded dryly.

Butcher snorted, but Mallory raised an eyebrow.

“Really? What makes you so sure?”

“One of the tests that was run on me was putting me in a room and blasting it with nuclear energy. They dropped Hiroshima on me, and it did jack shit. Soldier Boy throwing a temper tantrum won’t be any different.”

“And how do you think you could control him?” Singer asked.

“I can burn up to 5500 degrees Celsius. That’s hotter than a bomb. Won’t kill him, will knock him the fuck out. And it’ll hurt.”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Butcher mused. “It’s fuckin' perfect.”

You glowered at him. “Stop helping me.”

MM looked at Mallory. “The fact that America’s number one unstable asshole,” he gestured to Butcher. “Is on board should be enough to tell you how stupid this is.”

“Number two unstable asshole,” you said under your breath.

“Thanks, Love,” Butcher winked at you.

“Yeah well, don’t be so pleased. You’re only just losing to Homelander.”

Butcher shrugged, and you returned your attention to Singer. “Sir, please trust me. I, more than almost anyone, know how dangerous this could be. But Homelander is more dangerous. We needed a weapon,” you echoed Edgar’s words. “This is it.”

Singer nodded slowly, and MM scoffed.

“You can’t be seriously considering this. He’s a fucking unstable asshole murderer and a goddamn liability. What if we wake him up, she can’t control him, and he gets free?”

“We said whatever it takes,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t be pitching this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I can control him, I promise.”

“You’d bet your life on it?” Mallory asked.

“My life?” You snorted. “In a heartbeat.”

Mallory sighed. “Then fine,” she shot a look to Singer. “I’ll sign off if you do.”

“Sir,” MM said, sounding almost desperate. “I am begging you, do not do this.”

Singer just shook his head slightly. “Desperate times, they make you do desperate things. If I saw another way, I’d take it, but for now we’ll have to make do. I approve the request.”

“Thank you, sir.” You gave Singer a grateful nod, ignoring the searing feeling of MM’s anger.

“Don’t thank me, girl. If this goes south, it’s your head. Grace, set up a safe house for them ASAP, if I’m signing off on this I want it moving fast.”

Mallory nodded. “It’ll take a few days. We’ll have to transport him there before we wake him up.”

“Do whatever you have to,” Singer said as he stood to leave. “If this is our only shot, we can’t afford to miss.”

[kiame-sama]

Your Monster AU is delicious and I just discovered something honestly cool about the advantage of being considered cute

Apparently cuteness is an evolutionary survival strategy, as being cute is a very potent protective mechanism for infants and young (Specifically for the ones that are completely helpless and need their parents to care for them)

In this case, the Staff are immediately struck by Reader’s ‘Cuteness’ (Big eyes, smaller stature, soft, vulnerable skin, and just utterly helpless compared to everyone else) basically they might perceive Reader as a baby (It doesn’t matter that she’s +18, they see her has a Baby because she’s completely helpless compared to all these Monsters)

This works by making the parent/s more likely to care for their young

There’s also cute aggressive, which humans want to squeeze or pinch a baby’s cheek because of the baby/infants’ cuteness (As Floyd said he wanted to squeeze Reader as he called her ‘cute’)

Some animals are even attracted to cuteness when choosing a mate (The Monsters boys might stop dead in in their tracks when they realize Reader is actually really cute, though their definition of cute differs from each of them, ex: angry, sleepy, etc)

The cuteness is why all the Staff adore their little Human immensely. Trein, Divus, and Vargas are especially susceptible to the charms and cuteness of the Human, feeling immensely responsible for the soft little creature.

Divus' parental instincts kick in almost immediately when he sees this little Human curled up in Malleus' nest. He is keen to coddle and coo over the soft Human that reminds him so closely of seal pups, his Selkie nature screaming at him to shelter and guard such a fragile creature. This pup is now his pup and he will fiercely guard them. As Divus is a mix of a Harp Seal Selkie(mother) and Leopard Seal Selkie(father), he will go full Leopard Seal on anyone who threatens his pup, turning back to the affable natured Harp Seal instincts any time he addresses his little pup.

Vargas knows calves are wobbly, fragile, and in need of a strong steer to protect them from other males or even from predators. The first time Vargas witnesses one of the monster boys trying to hit on the soft Human is when he begins to stomp the ground, kicking his feet back in a threatening posture with his horns pointed at the offending party. He will absolutely smack any of these eager students with his horns should they get too close to the soft Human.

Trein is already a father to several daughters and is reminded so much of his own cubs by the large innocent eyes this soft Human has. He can't help but take on the fatherly role for this delicate little creature. This is why Trein is first to offer aid to the Human and is first to leap to the Human's defense in tense situations. He will not let a single thing happen to this new cub of his and anyone who is caught bullying his cub is going to get extra homework, a strongly worded lecture, and detention to top it off.

Floyd has STRONK cuteness aggression and just wants to squeeze his little Shrimpy nice and tight until they beg him to let go or they pop. Whichever comes first.

Malleus, Jack, Kalim, Riddle, Vil, Rook, Jade, Floyd, and Jamil all have a strong preference for a cute little mate and are very willing to convince this little Human that they are an ideal lover. The soft Human is just so cute and so sweet they can't help but adore the sweet creature. It makes them all the more appalled to think that there are Poachers looking to slay the soft Human for little more than some meat.

[sykoangels]

RING RING

kinktober prompt : phone sex!

pairing: fem!reader x emily prentiss

warnings: praising / masturbation / established relationship

author note: happy kinktober!! also should I do more criminal minds fics let me know please!!

Being married to an FBI agent comes with its own unique set of perks and challenges. From the constant protection and occasional vacation days to the intriguing yet sometimes disturbing stories that come home with them, there's never a dull moment. However, being married to the unit chief of the behavioral analysis unit also brings its own set of responsibilities and considerations.

Agent Prentiss is a hardworking woman you met on a case in Seattle. You thought she was pretty cute, but it wasn't really clear if she was into women. After the case ended, which was pretty gruesome, you kept in touch and started learning more about each other. This blossomed into romance, then marriage, and now you're living in Washington DC with her, taking care of your kid named Sergio, who is just her cat.

Ever since you and Emily tied the knot, her frequent case trips made her feel like a stranger at times. In the early days, it strained your relationship as it seemed like you hardly ever saw each other. And when she did come home, she was often too worn out from her unavoidable challenging cases to engage in much else. You understood the demanding nature of her job and admired her dedication to making a difference, but you couldn't help but long for your wife's presence.

Currently, Emily is on a case in Baton Rouge. I’m trying to solve some mysterious death that happened in that area. She was supposed to be coming home today, but unfortunately, due to the severity of the case, she has to stay there an extra week with the team. It was an ideal and was kind of heartbreaking in your opinion. All he wanted to do was spend time with your wife, but there was this overwhelming feeling that you had for the past couple of days while she was gone. The feeling of desire deep inside of your core. It didn’t help that your house smelled like Emily, especially on her side of the closet. You would go wear her shirts from time to time taking in her scent that lingers behind.

As night fell, you carefully closed up the house. The lights in every room dimmed and then went out, leaving only the gentle glow of the bedside lamp in your bedroom. The entire house was immaculately clean, with every surface wiped down to a pristine shine. As you moved from room to room, you noticed the faint scent of red wine and rich mahogany, mingling with the cool draft of air from the vents.

You chose to ring up Emily as usual, especially since it was getting late. This was your customary practice whenever she was involved in a case. The night in Baton Rouge was serene, with the moon casting a gentle glow over the tranquil neighborhood. Its soft light filtered through every window and seeped through the gaps in the hotel curtains, bathing the surroundings in a serene glow. Emily heard the vibrations of her phone, praying and hoping it wasn’t work. She just wanted to rest for a little while, but a smile appeared on her face when she realized it was her lovely wife. She immediately answered you can almost feel the smile on her face through the phone.

Emily’s voice crackled through the speaker, a mix of relief and exhaustion. "Hey, babe," she said, her tone warm but tinged with fatigue. "I was hoping it was you." "Miss me already?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood. The silence on the other end of the line was punctuated by the rustle of sheets as she shifted in bed. "Always," she replied softly, the smile in her voice unmistakable. "How’s Sergio? Did he eat his dinner?" You chuckled, glancing at the cat lounging lazily on the windowsill, bathed in the moonlight. "He’s fine. Just enjoying the view. But seriously, Em, how are you holding up?"

There was a pause, and you could almost see her running a hand through her hair, the same gesture she made when deep in thought. "It’s been tough," she admitted. "This case… it’s one of the worst I’ve seen. But hearing your voice helps. It really does." You leaned back against the pillows, the warmth of the bed enveloping you. "Then let’s make it worth your while," you said, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Tell me what you need, Emily." Her breath hitched, and you could hear the faint echo of her heartbeat quickening. "God, I need you," she whispered back, her voice thick with longing. "But I can’t… not right now."

"Then let’s do this," you suggested, your heart pounding in your chest. "Close your eyes, imagine me here with you." "Alright," she murmured, the mattress creaking as she settled back. "I’m closing my eyes… and you’re lying next to me, your hand on my thigh."You closed your eyes too, picturing her silhouette under the dim light of the bedside lamp. Your hand drifted down your own body, mimicking the movement you knew she longed for. "Good girl," you breathed, your thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your shirt. "Now, tell me what you want." "I want…" she hesitated, her voice breaking slightly, "I want to feel your touch, everywhere."

You bit your lip, the sensation sending a jolt of arousal through you. "Describe it to me, Emily. Tell me where you want me to touch you." "My neck," she said quickly, her voice trembling. "Kiss my neck, baby. Feel the pulse there, taste me." Your mouth watered at the thought, your fingers trailing down to your damp panties . "And then?" you prompted, your voice husky. "My collarbone," she continued, her words coming faster now. "Let your lips slide down, trace the curve of my shoulder… oh God, I can almost feel it."

"My breasts," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Lick around the edges, tease the nipples… make them hard for you." You groaned, your fingers circling your own clit, mimicking the motion of your tongue. "And what about down here?" you asked, your voice shaky. "What do you want me to do to you?" "Touch me," she pleaded, the vulnerability in her voice making your stomach flip. "Slide your fingers inside me, feel how wet I am for you… please." You didn’t need any more encouragement. Your fingers found their way past your folds, pushing inside with a gasp. "Oh Emily," you moaned, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "Are you touching yourself too?"

"Yes," she gasped, the word torn from her throat. "I’m stroking myself, just like you told me to. God, it feels so good." "Not as good as you’ll feel soon," you promised, your fingers curling inside you. "I’m going to make you come, Emily. Just like this." "Please," she whimpered, the desperation in her voice fueling your own arousal. "I need it… I need you."

You moved faster, your thumb pressing against your clit in rhythm with your thrusts. "Tell me what you see," you demanded, desperate to lose yourself in her fantasy. "Paint the picture for me." "I’m lying here," she panted, her voice strained, "my legs spread wide, waiting for you. Your hands are everywhere, teasing, touching… driving me wild." "And then?" you pressed, your own orgasm building with every word.

"Your face between my legs," she said, her voice breaking. "Your tongue… oh God, your tongue sliding inside me, licking, sucking… making me scream." You cried out, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. "Emily, I’m coming," you gasped, your whole body shuddering with the force of it. "Me too," she sobbed, her voice raw with emotion. "Oh God, yes… right there…"

You collapsed back against the pillows, your breathing ragged, your body still humming with aftershocks. The line went quiet, the connection between you both still humming with the intensity of the moment. You lay there, your heart still pounding, the memory of her words echoing in your ears. "Wow," she breathed, her voice filled with wonder. "That was... intense." "Mmhmm," you agreed, your own body still humming with residual pleasure. "We make quite the team." She laughed softly, the sound warming your heart. "Yeah, we do. Can't wait to be in the same room again." "Neither can I," you admitted, your voice filled with longing.

"Agreed," she said, her tone serious. "Love you, Y/N .""Love you too, Emily," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion. "Sweet dreams.""You too," she whispered before hanging up.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, the memory of their shared moment still fresh in your mind. The taste of her words lingered on your lips, the scent of their mutual arousal in the air, and the thought of the warmth of their bodies pressed against each other. It was a perfect night, one that would be etched into your memory forever.

[winxanity-ii]

READY SET?... YOU BET!!

ship: soccer player!yuji x cheerleader!fem!reader x soccer player!megumi (aged up: reader, yuji and megumi are in early 20s) warnings: non-explicit; suggestive themes word count: 4.5k A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that i'm reposting this from my alt account, lulu-4-u in case you've seen this posted before...

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Friday afternoons weren't supposed to be like this.

You should've been back at Inkan College, practicing on your home turf, but no—the soccer team had to take over the field from Tuesday to Friday, leaving your cheer squad scrambling for a place to practice.

And now, thanks to the gym renovations at Inkan, you were all stuck at Kaisen College, borrowing their gym every Friday until further notice.

The situation wasn't ideal, but you'd take anything at this point.

As soon as you stepped into the massive space, the scent of sweat and faint cologne filled your nose.

The echo of shoes squeaking against the polished floor cut through the low hum of conversation, and you spotted Kaisen's soccer team scattered across the court.

They were warming up—stretching, chatting, completely unaware of the growing crowd of cheerleaders filtering in.

A part of you wondered if they even cared as they continued with their warm-ups and drills, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Except for a few.

A couple of the soccer players couldn't help but glance over at your team, their eyes lingering far too long.

You caught one or two making catcalls under their breath, which only fueled the simmering annoyance you and your teammates felt.

They quickly got back to stretching when one of their coaches barked out an order, but the damage was done.

It wasn't exactly the warmest welcome.

Your manager, Momo, stood by the entrance, tapping her clipboard nervously.

You could tell she was calculating something—probably how to split the gym time without causing too much friction. She was a stickler for schedules, which, given the current chaotic situation, had saved you all a few times.

Without a word, she darted forward, straight toward two figures standing near the side of the court.

At first glance, they were just two guys, probably seniors by the look of them, but the moment Momo reached them, you realized how tiny she looked next to their towering frames.

One of them—short pink hair, a carefree smile plastered across his face—didn't seem to notice Momo's intimidation. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his soccer jersey, and his eyes lit up as he listened to whatever joke the other guy, standing just as tall but with dark hair that fell messily over his face, was muttering under his breath.

Momo, clipboard clutched tightly to her chest, cleared her throat.

The dark-haired guy glanced down at her, his expression a mix of boredom and curiosity, while the pink-haired one grinned wider, clearly amused by the situation.

You couldn't help but notice how Momo's usual confidence seemed to shrink as she faced them, her skittish posture a dead giveaway that she was more than a little intimidated.

Not that you could blame her—these two looked like they could flatten anyone who stood in their way if they wanted to.

As Momo continued her strained conversation with the two towering guys, one of your squadmates, Maki, spoke up softly from beside you. "Should someone go over there?" she asked, her voice hesitant but filled with concern.

Her twin sister, Mei, however, had no such reservations, cackling under her breath as she nudged Maki. "Why? Just look at her! She's about to have a full-blown panic attack," she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement. You could almost feel the smirk pulling at her lips.

The rest of the team exchanged confused glances, a mix of frustration and unease settling in.

Your cheer captain, Nobara, wasn't the type to let something like this slide, though. She crossed her arms, scowling as she muttered, "We shouldn't even have to go through this. All the coaches signed off on us using the gym today. This is such a waste of time."

You opened your mouth to agree, but before you could say anything, Nobara had already started moving.

With a huff, she stomped across the gym, grabbing you by the wrist in the process. "C'mon, ____," she grumbled, dragging you along with her.

"W-Wait!" you stammered, barely keeping up with her hurried pace.

You shot a glance over at the rest of your squad, all of them staring wide-eyed as Nobara dragged you straight into the fray.

It didn't take long before you were standing face to face with Momo and the two guys, their attention shifting from your flustered manager to Nobara's fiery glare.

Nobara wasted no time. "What's the holdup?" she snapped, her voice cutting through the awkward tension like a knife. "We have the gym reserved today, so scram."

The pink-haired guy blinked, clearly surprised by her bluntness. His grin faltered for a second before returning with full force, as if he found the entire situation amusing.

The dark-haired one, on the other hand, remained as still and impassive as ever, but Nobara held her ground. "And where the hell are all your cars?" she barked, her voice echoing in the vast gym. “There's barely anyone in the parking lot, yet here are all you idiots, taking up the entire gym like it's your own private space! We had this reserved! Our coaches agreed! But no, you're still here, screwing around like you own the place."

She wasn't holding back, her frustration pouring out with every word. And while Nobara kept tearing into them, you could feel a shift in the air.

The two guys—who had seemed so relaxed moments ago—were now focused on you. It started subtly, but soon, you felt their gazes burning into your skin.

You tried to ignore it, tried to stay focused on Nobara's rant, but the sensation was overwhelming. Heat crept up along the side of your face, crawling down your neck and across your chest as their eyes raked over you, slow and deliberate.

You shifted your weight, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed you felt in your practice attire—short spandex shorts hugging your thighs, a cropped top barely covering the sports bra beneath it.

Normally, it wasn't an issue, just the usual cheer practice gear. But under their scrutiny, it felt like you were standing there completely bare, vulnerable.

The pink-haired guy's grin faded slightly, his gaze lingering a moment too long, while the raven-haired one's expression remained unreadable, his eyes scanning you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

They didn't say anything at first, just watching. But then, the dark-haired one moved.

"Enough," he said, cutting Nobara off mid-rant, his voice calm but commanding.

Nobara's mouth snapped shut, eyes narrowing at the interruption, but the guy didn't seem fazed. His gaze briefly flickered to you before returning to her. "The soccer team's staying on campus for a training retreat," he explained smoothly. "We were informed that we'd be sharing the facilities with the sister school, but no one mentioned the cheerleading squad had the gym booked today."

His tone wasn't exactly apologetic, but there was something almost diplomatic about the way he spoke, like he knew how to diffuse tension. "We can move our practice outside to the field. The gym's all yours."

Nobara crossed her arms, still irritated, but before she could argue, the pink-haired one chimed in. "Yeah, no problem! We didn’t mean to cause any issues," he added, flashing that grin again, though this time it felt less cocky and more… friendly. "We'll clear out."

Their quick surrender caught you off guard.

It wasn't what you expected, especially after the way they'd been eyeing you. Nobara looked ready to press further, but the raven-haired guy's unwavering stare and unexpected cooperation seemed to keep her from pushing the issue any longer.

The fire in her eyes flickered for a moment, and then she huffed, crossing her arms tighter across her chest. "Uh, fine," she muttered, clearly irritated by how easily they folded. It was like all the energy she’d built up for a full-blown argument had nowhere to go.

Without waiting for another word, she turned on her heel, clapping her hands loudly as she headed back toward the squad.

"Let's go, people!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Stretch! Stretch! Stretch! We've got nationals to prepare for!" Her voice boomed across the gym as she led the charge, her hands clapping rhythmically to emphasize her point.

The cheer team sprang into action at her command, following her lead without question, some of them already shifting into warm-up positions.

You and Momo, however, remained behind for a moment longer, standing awkwardly between the two guys who had been the focus of Nobara's wrath just seconds ago.

Momo, always the one to follow protocol, quickly thanked them once again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Uh, thanks again! We appreciate it!" she squeaked before practically darting after Nobara, clipboard still pressed tightly to her chest as if it were some kind of shield.

Then, it was just you and them.

You scratched awkwardly at the side of your face, feeling the tension of the moment settle around you like an itchy sweater. "Uh, thank you," you muttered, giving the two men a small, polite bow.

When you rose, you caught them both looking at you again, their eyes sweeping over your frame with the same intensity as before. The pink-haired one, who you now realized was taller up close, stepped forward, breaking the silence.

"Hey, no problem," he said with a bright, almost boyish grin. "I'm Itadori Yuji, by the way—team captain. This is my co-captain, Fushiguro Megumi." He gestured toward the dark-haired guy, who gave a small nod in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as usual.

You offered a polite smile, trying to shake off the lingering awkwardness. "I'm ____," you introduced yourself. "Co-captain of our cheerleading squad... and, uh, sorry about my captain. She can get a bit fired up."

Yuji laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Nah, it's all good! Passionate captains are the best kind." His eyes brightened with genuine interest as he tilted his head. "So, what's your position? Flyer? Base?"

"Varsity flyer."

Yuji's grin widened, and he tilted his head even further, like a curious puppy. "Oh, so you're pretty flexible, huh?" he said, his tone casual but his words heavy with innuendo.

For a second, your brain short-circuited.

You blinked, feeling heat rise to your face as your mind went straight to the gutter.

But then, you glanced at Yuji's innocent, beaming smile—and Megumi’s total lack of reaction.

Maybe it was just you?

"Y-Yeah, I guess so," you stuttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

Before you could say more, Nobara's voice pierced the air from behind you. "____! Quit messing around and help me stretch already!"

You flinched, turning back to Yuji and Megumi with an embarrassed giggle. "I, uh, I gotta go. Duty calls." You gave them a quick, nervous smile and turned to leave, feeling their eyes on you the whole way back to the squad.

You wiped sweat from your forehead, your body sore and aching as you stretched your arms overhead.

Practice had been brutal, and your muscles were screaming in protest.

With a tired sigh, you walked to the sidelines, pulling on your hoodie as the chill of the evening crept in.

It was nearing 7 p.m., the gym lights casting long shadows across the floor as practice finally came to an end.

Nobara had practically worked everyone to the bone. The longer practice went on, the fewer soccer players you noticed on the field outside.

You'd catch glimpses of them through the windows, their figures becoming less and less frequent whenever you were tossed into the air during routines.

By the time the sun had started to dip below the horizon, the field was nearly empty.

Your squadmates were just as exhausted, pulling on their jackets and finishing the last drops of water from their bottles. You could hear their quiet groans and heavy breathing as they packed up their gear, the sound of sneakers shuffling against the polished floor.

Nobara clapped her hands sharply, rounding everyone up for one last pep talk before you could all head home.

"Alright, listen up!" she barked, her tone still sharp despite the weariness in her own voice. "I know today was rough, but we've got nationals coming up, and there’s no room for slacking off!" She paused for a moment, wrinkling her nose as she glanced around the gym. "And honestly, can you believe the state of this place? Kaisen's gym is a joke. The equipment's ancient, and don't get me started on the smell."

A few of the girls chuckled tiredly, but Nobara didn't linger on the complaints for long. She quickly shifted gears, her expression hardening with determination. "That being said, we need to tighten up! That routine wasn't perfect, and we can't afford any screw-ups. We've got one shot, and we're gonna give it everything we’ve got. Understood?"

The sound of tired but enthusiastic "whoops" filled the gym, everyone too exhausted to muster anything more. Nobara clapped her hands again, signaling the end of practice. "Alright, that’s it! Get your stuff, go home, and rest up. We'll hit it harder next week."

You grabbed your things, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you like a blanket.

Your teammates were already filing out, chatting quietly among themselves, their bags slung over their shoulders as they made their way to the doors.

The sound of sneakers against the floor faded into the background, and soon, it was just you, your aching muscles, and the quiet hum of the empty gym.

You were shuffling your bag onto your arm when you heard footsteps behind you. Turning, you saw Momo and Nobara making their way over, both looking just as tired as you but clearly still running through their mental checklists.

"Kasumi's been solid lately," Nobara said, crossing her arms as she stopped in front of you. "I'm thinking about promoting her to backup flyer."

You nodded, adjusting the strap of your bag. "Yeah, totally agree. Kasumi's been killing it in the stunts, and she’s got the energy. She's a good choice,for sure."

Momo nodded quickly, scribbling on the clipboard before tucking it under her arm as she chimed in. "I'll make a note to talk to her next session."

A chilly breeze swept through the gym as the three of you walked toward the exit, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth and sweat of practice.

The doors creaked as you pushed them open, stepping out into the dimly lit parking lot.

The gym behind you had become quiet, almost eerily so, with the earlier sounds of practice and drills fading into the distance.

The lot, which had been full of cars and people earlier, was now nearly empty. All that remained were the scattered vehicles of you, Nobara, and Momo, the only signs of life left after a long, grueling practice.

You could see the condensation forming on the windows of your car as the temperature dropped, the once bustling energy of the gymnasium now a distant memory.

"Well, at least the next few practices should be a little smoother," Nobara muttered, glancing over her shoulder at the now-darkened gym. "If Kaisen can get their act together, maybe we can actually get some work done."

Momo laughed softly, pulling her jacket tighter around her. "One can only hope."

You gave Nobara and Momo one final wave as you unlocked your car door, watching them head toward their own vehicles. The cool metal of your car's handle felt like a relief after the long day, and you were more than ready to head home.

Settling into your seat, you pulled the seatbelt over your chest and clicked it into place. With a tired sigh, you were just about to turn the ignition when your phone buzzed from the passenger seat.

Glancing at the screen, you saw a message from Fujinuma, one of your spotters:

Hey! I left my arm compression sleeve in the locker room. Could you grab it for me? It’s my last pair—should be near the lower lockers by the sinks.

You groaned, letting your head drop back against the seat. "Of course," you muttered to yourself, pulling your seatbelt back off with a click. "Things that come with having responsibilities..."

Shoving your phone into your pocket, you reluctantly pushed the car door open and stepped back into the brisk night air. The wind had picked up a little, sending a chill through your hoodie as you trudged back toward the gym.

The silence of the empty parking lot felt heavier now, with only your footsteps breaking the stillness as you made your way back inside.

The gym's door creaked as you pushed it open, the faint echo of your steps bouncing off the empty walls. In the short amount of time since your group had left, the gym lights had already been turned off.

The sudden darkness sent a small shiver down your spine. "Creepy," you muttered under your breath, hugging your arms close as you quickly retraced your steps to the locker room.

You'd only used the locker room once before, during the last practice, so you weren't exactly familiar with its layout.

The long, narrow hallway that led to it felt even more unnerving now, the dim emergency lights casting strange shadows on the walls. The sound of your footsteps echoed slightly, the quiet hum of the building adding to the eerie atmosphere.

As you pushed open the door to the locker room, you expected to find complete silence—just an empty space waiting for you to grab Fujinuma's sleeve. But instead, as you stepped further into the room, the sound of rushing water hit your ears.

You froze for a second, your heart skipping a beat, eyes widening as you squinted toward the steam creeping from the lit showers around the corner. Shit, you thought, panic prickling your skin. Who the hell is still here?

Your heart raced, but you shook your head, trying to focus. Get the sleeve, get out, you told yourself, forcing your mind back to the task at hand.

Pulling out your phone, you quickly skimmed over Fujinuma's message again. "Lower locker, near the sink," you mumbled under your breath, shoving your phone back into your jacket pocket.

The faint glow of the shower lights barely reached your side of the locker room, but you did your best to navigate the dark space. You crouched down next to the row of sinks, your fingers fumbling with the cold metal locker.

You tugged it open with a slight creak, your breath catching as you spotted Fujinuma's compression sleeve sitting just where she said it would be.

You grabbed it quickly, stuffing it into your pocket. Relief washed over you as you pulled your phone out again, ready to let Fujinuma know you had it and you were getting the hell out of there.

Just as your fingers hovered over the send button, a voice cut through the eerie silence.

"Hey, stranger, what brings you here?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, and before you could even process the words, the locker room flooded with bright light, illuminating the entire space.

Your pulse quickened, and you whiped around to face whoever had just spoken.

Your head snapped over, eyes wide, and your mouth dropped open at the sight in front of you.

Standing by the entrance to the shower area, his hand casually resting on the light switch, was none other than Yuji—the captain of Kaisen's soccer team.

His pink hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping with water from his recent shower.

The steam rising around him only added to the surreal atmosphere. His lean yet muscular frame glistened in the bright lights, every defined muscle on full display, water sliding down his toned chest and abs.

A towel hung loosely around his waist, dangerously low on his hips, barely covering what it needed to.

You couldn't help but stare, feeling your brain short-circuit for a second as the reality of the situation sunk in.

The heat from your earlier practice was nothing compared to the heat now rising to your face as you tried to comprehend what you were looking at.

Yuji's lips curled into a wicked smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes as he tilted his head to the side, the same playful gesture you'd seen earlier. His voice was smooth, laced with something suggestive, but his tone remained infuriatingly innocent.

"So," he drawled, his eyes flicking over you briefly, "gonna tell me what brings you here? Looking for a midnight snack... or something else?"

The words hit you like a punch.

You choked on your spit, eyes widening as Yuji's words sank in, feeling your face flush even more.

A series of coughs followed, and you quickly clasped a hand over your mouth, your face hot as fire.

You struggled to pull yourself up onto your feet, eyes darting everywhere but him—focused on the ceiling, the lockers, literally anywhere that wasn't the sight of his wet, muscular frame standing there, towel barely hanging on.

"Uh… well…" you started, fumbling over your words as you desperately tried to navigate your way out of the locker room. "One of my squadmates left her compression sleeve, and… well, I came to get it." Your voice wavered as you bumped into a locker, making your way toward the exit, not even noticing when the sound of the shower behind you turned off.

"So, yeah…" you continued, trying to fill the awkward silence. "What can I do, say no? I'm the co-captain, haha…" You gave a nervous laugh, your mind scrambling to come up with something to say, anything to escape this weirdly intimate moment.

Just as the words left your mouth, you suddenly gasped, your breath catching in your throat. Without warning, you bumped into something—someone—solid.

Before you could react, a strong, wet arm wrapped around your midsection, pulling you gently but firmly against a warm, muscular chest.

The heat radiating off the figure seeped through your hoodie, and you could feel droplets of water from their skin soaking into the fabric, sending a shiver down your spine.

You froze, the feeling of firm, veiny muscles around you making your heart race even faster.

The warmth of his body pressed so close to yours made your mind go blank. Tilting your head back just a little, you came face to face with a pair of piercing, dark blue eyes.

Megumi—the co-captain.

His expression was unreadable, but his grip on you remained steady, his arm still snug around your waist, and for a moment, you couldn't breathe, your words completely stolen by the intensity of his gaze.

"S-Sorry!" You squeaked out an apology, feeling the heat rising in your face again as you quickly stepped forward, trying to put some distance between yourself and Megumi.

But just as you freed yourself from his grasp, you bumped into something else—something solid. You froze, your body going stiff as you realized what, or rather who, you had just walked into.

Yuji.

You kept your eyes fixed straight ahead, staring at his honey-tanned chest and desperately trying not to ogle his still-dripping frame.

Every muscle in your body felt locked in place, trapped between the two of them.

When you finally managed to tilt your head up, you were met with Yuji's face—except he wasn't smirking this time. He was pouting.

"Really, Megumi?" Yuji whined dramatically, his voice filled with playful irritation. "You always get the cool, sexy entrances. It's not fair! I was just gonna offer to help, but you had to swoop in like that and steal my moment."

Megumi, still standing behind you, rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered by Yuji's theatrics. "It's not a competition," he muttered dryly, his voice low and calm, completely unfazed by Yuji's over-the-top complaint.

You blinked, completely caught off guard, your mind struggling to process what was happening.

Here you were, sandwiched between the captain and co-captain of Kaisen's soccer team, listening to them banter as if this was all totally normal.

You could only stare up at them in complete wonderment, your brain short-circuiting from the surrealness of the situation.

Gulping, you made the mistake of trying to move. Your body shifted slightly, but it only caused you to stumble forward, right into Yuji’s chest. His firm, warm body pressed against yours, and before you could react, you felt his strong arms wrap around you, keeping you in place.

"Whoa, where d'ya think you're going, babe?" Yuji teased, his voice low and playful. He tilted his head to the side, licking his lips as he looked down at you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

The nickname sent a shiver through you, and you felt heat rising to your face again as you tried to wiggle free, but his hold on you only tightened.

Your mind raced as you attempted to come up with a reasonable excuse, anything to escape this increasingly compromising situation. "I-I need to get back," you stammered, not quite believing the words yourself as you glanced over your shoulder at Megumi, who was watching you intently. His gaze was sharp, focused, and completely unreadable.

"Oh? But we're just getting started~" Yuji cooed, his voice dripping with amusement as one of his hands moved gently along your back, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

You wanted to move, wanted to push them both away, but every time you tried to pull yourself free, it felt like you were sinking deeper into their grasp, prey to their every suggestion.

Your breath hitched as Megumi finally stepped closer, his tall, imposing figure now looming behind you again. His hand brushed lightly against your arm, a subtle, almost teasing touch that sent your thoughts spiraling.

His dark blue eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel the tension building between the three of you, thick and palpable in the air.

"You're not really in a rush, are you?" Megumi asked softly, his tone smooth and laced with a hint of seduction. His gaze dropped to your lips for just a second, and before you could protest, he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a steamy kiss.

Your mind went blank as his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate.

You hadn't expected it, but the heat and intensity of his kiss sent your heart racing.

For a moment, you forgot everything else—the locker room, the late hour, the surrealness of it all—lost in the sensation of his lips claiming yours.

Your resistance melted away as you gave in, your body leaning into his touch.

And just as you found yourself surrendering to Megumi, Yuji's soft chuckle broke through the haze. His arms were still around you, holding you close, and as Megumi pulled back slightly, Yuji tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"Don't forget about me," Yuji murmured, his voice a playful rumble before he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was different from Megumi's—softer, but no less electrifying.

You felt a jolt of desire shoot through you as Yuji's lips moved against yours, his playful nature evident in the way he kissed you, teasing and tasting like he had all the time in the world.

Megumi's lips left yours only to trail down the side of your neck, his kisses slow and deliberate, sending shivers across your skin. At the same time, Yuji deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing yours with a mix of intensity and playfulness that left you breathless.

Your mind struggled to keep up as you felt a pair of hands slip under your hoodie, splaying across your abdomen, fingers caressing the soft skin of your stomach before they slid to your hips, holding you firmly in place.

You gasped softly against Yuji's lips, pulling back to catch your breath, but the moment you did, he moved to kiss and suckle along the other side of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

The sensation of both men kissing you, touching you, made your knees weak.

Yuji hiked up one of your legs, pulling it around his waist to bring you closer, his grip firm as he held you in place.

Your mind was growing hazy with desire, your body caught between the two of them, every nerve alight with sensation. Megumi's lips continued to work against your neck, his hands slipping under your hoodie to hold you steady, while Yuji’s lips and tongue sent waves of heat through you.

Suddenly, Megumi's hand reached up to tilt your head back onto his shoulder, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, his voice low and filled with temptation. "Do you wanna play with us?"

Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest as his words sunk in. You blinked, your heavy-lidded eyes glancing through your lashes to find Yuji's face in front of you.

The pinkette's usual bright and playful expression was now flushed with desire, his eyes dark and heavy as he looked down at you. His grip on your hips tightened, a soft groan escaping his lips as he rocked his hips forward, grinding gently against you.

"Please," Yuji's voice was almost pleading, his tone husky with need. "Can we play with you?"

A/N: lololo ignore me just tryingn my hand at college aus...