#like... it is a huge flattery

[katyahina]

(Sorry I needed this meme to be posted separated from an ask)

[definitelynotshouting]

Can I ask, since you mentioned agreeing 'even if under duress' - how did the Watchers convince Player Grian to join them in hunger au?

So take this with the specific grain of salt that ive never watched Evo directly (but have friends who have ((thank you wren)), so i know tidbits via osmosis from them), but my thought has always been that the riddles the Watchers gave the Evo Players were all tests used to measure cleverness and intelligence-- the whole point of them attempting to copy the mind of a Player into a Watcher larva in the first place was to try and avoid the insanely high infant mortality rate their typical juveniles go through, bc they dont understand their own limits enough to even know they have them yet. So they needed a Player they knew they could instruct and who would listen to them, and, well. Grian, for all he was rebellious and outright defiant of the Watchers, still solved their puzzles and only had to be punished once before he stopped trying to mess with them

What ive always pictured is after the dragon fight the two main elders of the Watcher colony finally revealed themselves to Grian properly-- i have this crystal clear image of the two of them hovering above and next to the central end island, looming over Grian, and like, these guys are big. HUGE. A good 5x bigger than the ender dragon itself, at LEAST. It would be hard not to feel insanely intimidated by that, honestly, especially when there are two of them side by side, blocking your entire view of the End from that direction.

Anyway picture that with the context of these two giant floating winged worms youve never seen before, who have demonstrated their powerful ability to manipulate code in a way you cant.... telling you that they have chosen you to become one of them. Thats an immense amount of pressure, both from flattery and fear, especially considering theyve punished you before for defying them. I like to think even then, Grian balked a bit, and while i dont have exact dialogue beats here, i know the Watchers continued putting that pressure on him (likely while leveraging his friendships too-- like ive always said, if Grian hadnt been chosen, BigB wouldve been, and i can absolutely see the Watchers offering to take him in Grian's stead) until he finally caved and accepted their "offer" of joining them.

Unfortunately, he didnt find out exactly what that entailed until it was far too late.

[frankierohugejorts]

started watching we are lady parts and it's fantastic but also ive worked enough gigs at around the level they're at to be stressed when things are not quite right, like how do these women not realize their gigs pay like garbage, why is ahsan setting up all their gear, WHY IS SECOND WIFE NOT BEING EXILED FROM THE SCENE FOR THAT FUCKING BASHIR WITH THE GOOD BEARD STUNT

[tsuma-senju]

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who only cares about winning, even if he has to be the biggest asshole in the world, ignoring anything other than the next fight.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who runs away from interviews like the plague, flinching in his chair as he hears the usual inane questions. His manager, a man blessed by heaven to be able to put up with the fighter's persistently optimistic mood, tries to keep his composure, but every dry, monosyllabic answer from Sukuna makes the sweat drip down his temple.

“Sukuna, how are you preparing for the fight against the Thai champion?��

“Training”

“Any new strategies?”

“Fighting”

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who was forced to be there against his will, stands up abruptly. The photographers are startled by the movement. The businessman tries to reach him, desperate.

"Sukuna! No! Only ten minutes to go!"

But it's no use. The champion is already leaving, with heavy, irritated steps, while the security guards try to clear the way. He ignores shouts, cameras, microphones and questions. And off he goes, towards the underground parking lot

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who is itching to get in and disappear in his matte black sports car.

He gets into the vehicle, starts the engine with a furious roar and begins to maneuver without paying much attention.

That's when you appear.

You, completely distracted, holding your cell phone and a shopping bag that almost falls to the ground.

The roar of the engine makes you look back, but it's too late.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, driving like an impatient ogre, almost runs you over.

“ARE YOU CRAZY, YOU SON OF A BITCH?!” you shout, slamming your palm down hard on the car window. “WHAT KIND OF IDIOT RUNS OUT OF THE PARKING LOT LIKE THAT?!”

You're furious. Your blood is boiling. Without even thinking about it, you're already hitting the bodywork harder.

"GET OUT OF THAT FUCKING CAR NOW! YOU IGNORANT"

The window starts to roll down. You're still huffing and puffing, indignant and ready to curse, until you see... him.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who is enchanted by your courage and audacity, appears like a huge shadow inside the car. His red eyes stare into yours as if studying you. The crooked smile at the corner of his mouth reveals that he is not in the least annoyed. On the contrary... he seems to be enjoying himself.

“Are you always like this?” he asks, getting out of the car with an annoying calmness and a body that makes the ground seem smaller.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who exudes imposing bearing, stretches himself to the maximum as he gets out of the car. His muscles bulge out from under his tight T-shirt, the tattoos decorating his arms like a dangerous map. You take two steps back, still holding the shopping bag as if it were a weapon.

"I-I... look, I'm sorry, okay? I... I thought you were some rich slacker"

“Technically, I am,” he replies, running his tongue over his teeth, approaching as if he were in a ring. “But your reaction... It was interesting”

Now that the initial shock has worn off, you realize who this is. Your eyes widen, the name slips out of your mouth like a secret:

"Ryomen Sukuna? The muai thai world champion?"

He shrugs.

"It depends. If I tell you no, will you keep shouting at me?"

You let out a nervous laugh, putting your hand to your forehead.

“Oh my God... I almost insulted you”

“Almost? You did” He smiles wider.

You try to apologize in every way, stumbling over your words, mixing up “I'm sorry”, “I really am sorry”, and “I didn't mean to”. But he raises a hand, cutting your apology in half.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who doesn't care about flattery or apologies, looks at you with a sharp look and says:

"Do you really want to apologize? Then give me your number."

You freeze.

“What?”

"That's it. Give me your number. I won't insist, but it would be a shame to let this story end in the parking lot."

You stare at him for a moment. He's not joking. And honestly? Maybe you're not either.

You take out your cell phone, type in your number and hand it over. He types something into his cell phone, and soon after, you receive a message:

Unknown number: "If I win the next fight, you owe me a coffee. If I lose... too. ;) - Sukuna."

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who gives you one last look before heading back to his car. Leaving you standing there, staring at your cell phone screen and trying to understand what the hell just happened.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who never gets distracted by anything outside the ring, didn't expect to fall in love with a woman he almost ran over in the parking lot. In front of the strong-tempered woman, drinking a coffee that he certainly won't let her pay for.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who, a few months later, is standing in the room he himself prepared with red petals scattered everywhere, lit candles emitting his favorite scent, the one you once mentioned casually one afternoon and he memorized as if it were the next technique that would save his life in the ring.

You open the front door thinking you're just going to find Sukuna grumpy and sweaty after training. But when you step inside, everything changes. The light is low, the sweet, familiar smell envelops you, and there, in the center of it all, is him, that man no one dares to contradict, holding a discreet ring in his calloused hand, as if it were made of glass.

"I almost ran you over," he begins, with that crooked, insolent smile, "and ever since then, I've never wanted you to get out of my way. Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who used to be cold, rough and averse to any sentimentality, now wants to hide you from the press because you're his little, and not at all defenseless, girlfriend. The woman who shouted at him without fear and who now sleeps on his chest every night. And he keeps it as a precious secret. For months, no one knows he's with someone. You live behind the scenes, away from the spotlight, safe and loved.

When you ask, he replies with the same expression as always:

"Next question."

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who marries you a year later. It was a simple, private ceremony, with no paparazzi or magazine covers. The only flashes were from close friends and family. But there was too much sincerity in that exchange of vows. He wore a suit, his hair neatly combed, and a look that seemed ready to cry, even if he would never admit it.

"I'm yours. Forever. Even when I'm far away. Even when my fists are closed. Even when life wants to beat me down... you'll be the only thing that keeps me standing."

You cried. He held your hand tightly. And when you were pronounced husband and wife, the world stopped for a few seconds.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who has a dry, impersonal Instagram, with only training videos, photos with medals and short phrases like “ready” or “focus”. But one day, he surprised all of his almost six million followers with something no one expected.

One photo. No caption. Three hands.

His, scarred, rough, with knuckles hardened from so many punches.

Yours, soft, smooth, resting on top of his.

And between them, a chubby, innocent little hand, grasping Sukuna's finger as if it already knew it was safe there.

The comments explode.

“Is he a FATHER?” “Is this photo real???” “STOP THE WORLD I NEED INFORMATION” “Someone warn me that Sukuna has become a dilf”

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who doesn't give interviews about his personal life, remains silent. He deactivates the comments hours later. He leaves the image there, alone, saying everything he will never put into words.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who could never have imagined that his life would change completely in four years, now wakes up at dawn to hold a baby on his lap. He sings, walks down the dark corridor with slow, careful steps, and holds the child like he holds his own heart in his hands.

He finds himself looking at you, sleeping exhausted after another difficult night, and feels his chest tighten with love.

"Thank you," he whispers softly, so no one can hear.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who used to think only of winning, now measures victories in quiet cries, small laughs and kisses on the top of your head.

He is still the champion. He is still feared. He still fights like a demon when he's in the octagon.

But at home, he's just the man who can't stop thanking you.

For you. For the baby. For the life he never planned to have, but which has turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

[citricacidprince]

Could you draw that "I trust you" scene with Mabel and Stan but with the relativity AU? (The stan twins and pine twins swap ages au)

OF COURSE, I WILL GLADLY DRAW THEM!!! 💥💥💥

I’m gonna post a long winded thesis about my thoughts on this AU, my take on the AU, and two additional arts under the cut because ooooh boy it’s a tad bit long lol. Also, please please forgive the formatting, I’m writing this all on the fly and it’s extremely disjointed, sorry- 💥

I know there’s the ‘canon’ Relativity AU designs and character dynamics, however I don’t really like them that much ngl. I feel like it mostly just ends up with ‘Mabel and Dipper get switched with Stan and Ford with no nuances once so ever’ and that BLOWS!!! There’s so much potential there and no one is playing with it!! YOU GUYS DON’T EVEN HAVE MABEL PRETENDING TO BE DIPPER, WHATS THE POINT????

Not only that but I feel like making Dipper and Mabel’s dynamic just Ford and Stan’s when they’re adults is a HUGE simplification of their characters. Like, Mabel and Dipper fight, but they don’t fight like Stan and Ford, they’re not as hard headed and stubborn. Mabel would commit some crimes yes, but I don’t believe she would get into some of the heavy shit Stan had in his past. I refuse to believe Mr. Dipper ‘Undiagnosed Anxiety Disorder’ Pines would fall for Bill’s flattery as easily as Ford did.

The Pines Twins are very different from the Mystery Twins. Mabel and Dipper didn’t grow up with a father constantly comparing the two and pinning them against each other, outright telling one kid they’ll always be a failure while the other is going to have the burden of making their family rich. They never had that tension. They wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around eachother as adults.

I know that makes the concept sound boring to some, ‘Where’s the fun in the AU if you take away the sibling fighting’. You cowards, you can still have it, young Stan and Ford are RIGHT THERE. During the second half of the show when Dipper comes back through the portal, instead of having the older set of twins, something that doesn’t make sense with their characters, have a building tension that’s going to explode soon and keep it between Stan and Ford, don’t take it away from them. If anything, I think taking away the resentment and anger growing between the two and giving it to Mabel and Dipped is a butchering of all the characters.

Sure that means some of the episodes would have to change or be completely erased, but that’s fine!!! Make up some new ones!!! Get silly with it!!!

Mabel and Dipper talk about feelings, Stan and Ford don’t. Mabel and Dipper can’t stay mad at each other, Stan and Ford will try and stay mad for decades because being angry is easier than being upset.

In my idea of this AU that fight at the end of Weirdmageddon HAS to be between Stan and Ford, and Stan HAS to still be the one getting his memories erased.

💥 Post Not-What-He-Seems Relativity AU Rambling Below 💥

Dipper is a paranoid man, fool him once you’re never going to fool him again. He would never in a million years ever work with Bill again. Ford however is an extremely lonely child, both he and his brother are desperate for any type of positive attention. I think Bill would see him as a potential protege, especially since Ford is a ‘freak’ like he is and the kid is extremely smart for his age. He’s malleable, Bill probably thinks he could shape him uo to be the perfect lackey.

Ford, being the lonely kid he is, probably does fall for the praise initially. He craves attention and Bill pushes all the right buttons and says all the right words, tries and gains his trust even if time has proven again and again that he shouldn’t be trusting the demon.

The tension between the Stan Twins would grow after Grunkle Dipper comes back because Ford is upset that Stan didn’t listen to him (even if it was for the best that he did) and that Grunkle Dipper forgave Graunty Mabel so easily because if Ford was in those shoes he wouldn’t have. It grows more and more as Ford becomes distant and Stan tries to connect with his brother to no avail. Which, of course, comes to a boiling point when Ford says he’s going to stay in Gravity Falls and learn under Grunkle Dipper. Stan is rightfully upset. He can’t go back to New Jersey by himself. It’s always just been the two of them, he needed Ford, he couldn’t handle school or their father by himself. He can’t be alone.

Unlike Mabel who just wanted one more day of summer, Stan wishes that he wouldn’t be alone, which indirectly causes Weirdmaggendon.

Stan’s prison bubble would probably be a fake New Jersey-esc town full of a bunch of little Stans running around. Town O’ Stan. A place where no Stan is left behind.

The two don’t even get to have a heart to heart in the prison bubble. Stan was kinda forcibly taken out of the bubble and the tensions between the boys are higher than they’ve ever been.

During the Cipher Wheel fight Stan punches Ford and immediately feels bad when he sees he knocked out his brother’s tooth. He tries to apologize but Ford tackles him before he can, leading to the boys tussling on the floor. The two fight, whining out hurtful words neither of them mean and only stop when Bill shows up and captures them. Graunty Mabel and Grunkle Dipper run off and distract Cipher in hopes that they can keep the attention on themselves long enough that their great nephews could come up with a plan to escape.

The younger twins don’t find a way out and instead, finally, have an actual talk about their feelings, one that definitely ends up in tears as the two talk about the pressure that’s put on them or how worthless they feel. After that the boys get a rush of determination to escape when Stanley has a plan. Ford immediately hates the plan but Stan insists that they do it, in his own words, ‘Let me prove I can do something right for once.’

When Bill comes back and threatens to kill either Mabel or Dipper just for the hell of it, Ford calls out that he’d like to make a deal.

He wants to work with Bill, let Bill into his mind willingly. Bill immediately jumps on that offer. Ford is a promising young kid, perfect henchmaniac potential, not to mention it would absolutely devastate Dipper is his great nephew willingly turned to Bill’s side.

He goes into Ford’s head, revealing Stanley just in time to reveal that he was trapped, panicking as he was erased with a swift left-hook along with a kid who was happy to prove he was good for something after all.

Everyone was devastated after Weirdmaggedon of course, a child had his mind completely wiped. Stanford took it the worst, he just managed to finally break down those words that others built in his head, that he was too good for Stanley or that he didn’t need a knucklehead like him dumbing down his brain, and now his brother was gone. Just like that.

We all know what happens after this, Stan gets his memory back, everyone celebrates and the Stan twins are sent home, promising each other that they’ll never let anyone try and tear them apart ever again. Dipper and Mabel stay at the shack, after all, all they could ever want is there, where else could they possibly go?

Sorry this was… extremely rambly and long, I am extremely tired and can’t think straight I have a bunch more ideas and concepts so if anyone’s desperately wants to hear them just ask I guess, sorry you read this dumb of ass essay haha 💥

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

78 / 1.7k / part 2 of remora!reader surviving orca!König's tank for mermay 🦈

...

“Alex? Alex!” Your hands press up against the glass. But Alex—the diver you trusted, the one who you thought was your friend, turns away from you. "Please..."

König watches the commotion from a distance. His hand—palm wide enough to fully engulf a human's skull—flexes in annoyance. Your desperate wailing disrupts the fragile hierarchy of the tank. He tolerates it for exactly fourteen seconds before surging forward with a speed like he isn’t the biggest thing in the tank.

His shadow swallows your smaller form against the glass. The next thing you know, he's snatched your thrashing wrists above your head with one hand and pressed you against the tank's barrier with the other.

"Quiet."

The barked command makes the glass behind your head ring. Net-like fabric floats around his head as he stares you down with eerie stillness. His tail coils beneath you and his body is taut—ready to shake sense into you the old-fashioned way if you wiggle.

Remoras are clingy by nature, feeding off scraps from proper predators. Weakness incarnate. Yet something in your wide-eyed stare pricks at recollections of his own helplessness years ago. He dismisses this immediately.

"Improve your posture before Horangi circles back," he mutters, jerking your wrists higher. "He chews on twitchy things. Understand?"

You stare at him, utterly still. You can't quite make out what he's saying over the roar of blood in your ears. Still, you're careful to keep your tail from brushing his as you hang limply from his grip. You shouldn’t touch an angry orca without begging permission.

König’s pointer finger hooks under your jaw to force your chin up. "Begging makes you smaller." The last word comes out punctuated by a mean poke of his pinky finger’s claw against your neck. "Do you hear me? If you value your pretty throat, stop bleating like seal bait."

You blink up at him, pupils still huge. You swallow and try to choose your next words carefully. What comes out, however, is, "You think it's pretty?"

A beat passes—long enough for Horangi’s silhouette to glide past the tank's far not-coral formation.

König’s exhale bubbles out in a low, irritated tsch that flutters the netting in front of his lips. He pushes your jaw to the side to make you break eye contact. He has half a mind to make you expose your neck, too. Your tiny remora brain must not have parsed his words correctly. "I meant the tendons. Weak spots. Delicate." He makes his voice arrogant and attached. "In that sense, yes."

"Oh." Tendons. You have pretty tendons, then. Your fingertips—still hostage above your head—tap unthinkingly against the side of his fingers. You tilt your neck, opening it to him even more, despite his claws floating around it. "Do you like weak spots? I have a lot."

König’s head tilts. His grip on your jaw shifts—pressing your head back until your entire throat bows taut under his claws. One casual flick, and he could open it up like the human divers unzip their suits. His inky tail presses in to hem you in from below. Not that you're trying to escape.

"You mistake patience for interest," he growls, though his thumb makes another lazy pass over your throbbing pulse. "The question is whether your many weak spots make you worth the effort of keeping alive."

"It wouldn't be. Except..." You let your eyes wander down his body. Then you look away. "Well... No, it's nothing."

"Spit it out."

You wriggle in his grip again and shoot him a coquettish look. "For a mer as big and strong as you, it would be easy to keep me alive. I bet no one ever picks a fight with an orca."

A chuckle rumbles up from his chest. You think you've got him right where you want him until the sound becomes a growl that reverberates through your skull where he's still pinning it to the glass.

"Cringing flattery." He releases your wrists just to splay his hand over your ribcage. The span of his palm covers your torso. "But that's right, foolish schmarotzer. Every fight ever picked with me ends with the problem sinking to the seabed in pieces. Fighting is easy. Easy is tiresome."

He pulls you away from the tank wall and pushes you suddenly downward. After a long descent, your back hits the shallowly-sanded tank floor hard enough to dredge up a bloom of silt. You let out an uncomfortable uff. His palm splays wide against your sternum—not crushing, but containing. Two clawtips press divots into the skin above your heart. "I tire of flattery. Your lines are stink up my tank. Mold your clever mouth around something else."

"What else is there?"

König's answering exhale is a stream of bubbles that pop fizz against your face. The claws at your sternum drag downward, ginger enough to etch thin white lines that bloom pink. “Your tongue is as dull as your teeth. Better to use it for scraping barnacles off my scales. Or" —his thumb presses hard into the hollow under your chin— “begging. But you are much worse at that.” The pressure relents only for his claws to flex around your throat.

A shark’s silhouette passes overhead—Horangi’s lithe form pausing to observe the disturbance before gliding onward. König’s gaze flicks up, tracking him.

You watch him watch Horangi. Begging—for what? Food? Shelter? No, it's not that, you realize, seeing Horangi's brief smirk and feeling König's grip tighten in response. He wants your fear; your unquestioning respect. He wants you something easy under his thumb to beg for his mercy.

Your reaction is instinctive and immediate. You try not to seem as eager to please as you actually are, but you can't help the way your pupils dilate at having found a niche. "Please," you mewl. You clutch his wrist—the one connected to the hand still wrapped around your throat and chest—with eager hands. "Please release me. Throw me to the shark instead; he’ll be kinder." You make sure to say this loudly enough to reach Horangi's ears.

König’s head snaps back toward you, hood whipping through the water. The whites of his eyes flash briefly before narrowing to glacial slits. When Horangi draws closer, nostrils flaring at the metallic tang of adrenaline, König lashes out at him a territorial swipe of his claws. Horangi darts back, but his interest is clearly piqued.

König hauls you upright by the throat and shoulders. “Dummes biest,” he hisses. “You think you can gift yourself to the sharks? Your life is mine. I decide when you become chum.”

To emphasize this, he drags you toward the coral outcropping where Horangi has settled to watch as he sharpens a stolen diver’s knife against a rock. Horangi’s grin widens.

König stops just shy of Horangi’s reach. He thrusts you forward like a fisherman presenting live bait.

“Here.” His voice drops to a taunting purr. “Beg him for death, if you’re so eager.”

You stare at Horangi. You open your mouth but can’t form the words.

Horangi’s golden eyes gleam. He leans in. “Oh? Brave little scavenger—”

König yanks you back against his chest before the shark’s claw can graze your cheek. A low, resonant click rolls through his chest—an orca’s warning—as Horangi retreats with a scoff. “Not brave. Stupid.” He forces your head to crane up at him. “But stupidity is fixable. You want to be shark food? Earn it. Kneel first. Then maybe I’ll let Horangi take a finger. A fin.” His thumb traces your lower lip. “Your impudent tongue.”

You positively squirm as he holds you there and takes inventory of your weak points. You've never been objectified quite like this before. It's thrilling.

You’re rewarded with a sharp jerk of his claws. He bends you, forcing your spine to arch against the solid plane of his chest. You're meant to pick scraps from his kills, but here you writhe as if starved for a different purpose. "You vibrate like a shrimp in a net," he mutters. His big hands drag your smaller frame flush against the lethal curve of his pectoral fins. The scarred edges bite faintly into your hips. He could sand your scaled skin to pulp with a single thrash.

Horangi keeps watching. He scrapes the knife’s blade idly over the pad of his thumb. Then König notices you noticing Horangi noticing you. “Eyes forward,” he snaps at the tiger shark with a low, clicking sound in his chest. “This one is not your chew toy.”

“Fine, fine,” Horangi replies. He stretches and retreats with a curious flick of his tail.

König’s attention returns to you. You’re still not trying to escape. You must enjoy being manhandled. Stupid little putzerfisch. “You lick the hand that throttles you. Pathetic. But…” He drags a clawtip up your neck to tap your bottom lip. “Convenient.”

You resist the urge to catch it in your mouth and suck on it. "Convenient is good?"

"Convenient is tolerable." His finger pushes past your teeth before you can react, the blunt tip pressing down on your tongue. Saliva clouds the water as he drags the claw along the sensitive muscle. "Good would imply you have use beyond this."

You nod obediently. Or you try, but the weight of König's finger makes it difficult. "’M utheleth," you agree around his claw.

He pulls it out with a wet pop. "Useless and honest. A rare combination."

He releases you abruptly, sending you drifting backward in the current. Before you can right yourself, his palm slams against the sand beside your head, caging you beneath the shadow of his dorsal fin. The black-and-white patterning of his tail seems to warp in the murky water.

"You will make yourself less useless starting tomorrow." His claws pluck a stray seashell from the sand and flick it disdainfully toward the tank's filtration system. "Clean this cesspit. Remove debris. Scrape algae from the glass. If I see a single parasite on Nikto’s scales, I will peel yours off and feed them to you." His gaze follows Horangi, who’s now circling the tank’s upper levels with roiling boredom. "And when the sharks demand entertainment," he adds, leaning down until his mask brushes your temple, "you will not volunteer your tongue. It belongs to me."

With that, he shoves off the sand and surges upward, his tailfin disappearing in a cloud of silt.

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3

more mer au / more KorTac / masterlist

[munsonsmixtapes]

Flattery Will Get You Everywhere

Eddie Munson x shy!fem!reader

summary: You and Eddie think that your feelings for each other aren't reciprocated but you both couldn't be more wrong

cw: hurt/comfort

This is part two to Flattery Works With Me

You sat in the front seat of Eddie’s van picking at the skin around your finger nails as a metal song played from the speakers loudly. You had been in his van many times since he always gave you rides to the DnD sessions, but this was different. He was going to come into your house. He was going to see your room, and that terrified you. You knew he would never make fun of you for anything, but you were still embarrassed considering that you still had some things left from your childhood, like some boy band posters and stuffed animals that you couldn’t get yourself to get rid of. 

Eddie, though, was looking forward to seeing where you lived. The place always looked cozy when he drove up to it and now he was going to see if it actually was. He was looking forward to seeing your room, wondering if it was as sweet as you, if it was what he had been imagining. He was looking forward to helping you with your homework, honestly anything that meant he got to spend time with you. Alone. Those twenty minute car rides were the highlight every week and now he was going to hang out with you as long as you would have had him. 

“You okay over there?” Eddie asked, drumming on the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was playing. He then reached over and turned the volume dial, making the music a bit lower so he could hear you when you spoke.

You slowly turned to him just in time to see his warm smile before he turned back to face the road. You thought about his question, wondering how you should have answered it, trying to figure how to word it without spilling the entire truth. That you had a huge crush on him and were nervous to be hanging out with him alone because you were concerned that you were going to tell him the truth and he was going to reject you. 

And you couldn’t have that, you just couldn’t. He was the best friend you ever had and there was no way that you were going to bring feelings into the mix. Everything was great and you weren’t going to ruin it by telling him that you liked him romantically. So, you swallowed the confession down like a large pill then turned to him, plastering on the best smile you could muster even though your heart was breaking a little. 

“I’m good,” you nodded. Eddie wasn’t buying it, but he was going to press you on it. If you had something that was bothering you, you’d tell him. At least, he hoped that you would. 

“Alright,” he replied as he turned into your driveway and your heart rate picked up. “Good.” He got out of the van then rounded the front of it before opening the door for you and helping you out of your seat. You led him to the front door, very aware that you were still holding hands, but you wouldn’t dare let go. His was soft and rough and there was something about it that made you instantly feel comforted. 

You let go of his hand and reached for your backpack, opening the smallest pocket and pulling out your keys. Eddie watched you, wondering why he was falling in love with you as you were doing something so mundane as unlocking your door. But there he was, looking at you like you had hung the moon, feeling like he was going to throw up from how overwhelmed with the feeling he was. He wanted to tell you the truth, but he didn’t think it was right. He didn’t think there was any way that you’d be interested in a freak like him. He was lucky enough to have you as a friend and he sure as hell wasn’t going to push it by telling you that he was totally and completely head over heels for you. 

The door opened and Eddie followed you inside, kicking off his shoes as he watched you do the same thing. He followed you into the kitchen like a lost puppy, getting distracted by all of the decorations that lined the walls. He was about to enter the kitchen when he spotted a framed photo that was hanging by the entrance. It was a photo of you from when you were about seven. You were reading a book, facing your palm towards the camera as if you didn’t want to have your photo taken. He shook his head with a chuckle since seemingly nothing had changed. 

“Do you want some orange juice?” You asked and Eddie stepped into the kitchen, seeing that you already had two glasses out along with the carton. He wasn’t really a big fan of the beverage, but there was no way in hell he was saying no to you. 

“I’d love some,” he smiled and you poured him a glass before handing it to him. Your fingers brushed his and your were beginning to panic at the way your hands were touching, deciding that you needed to move away as soon as possible. 

You watched him bring the glass up to his lips, wondering what they would have felt like slotted between yours, if they were as soft as they looked. He finished off half the glass then set it down on the counter and you couldn’t help but notice that some of the juice had dribbled down his chin. You stared at him, wanting to wipe away from him, but not quite having the confidence to do so.

“What?” He asked with a chuckle. “Do I have something on my face?” You pointed to the spot on your own chin and he stepped closer pointing his towards you, wanting you to get rid of it for him. 

You reached up and wiped the juice away from his chin with your thumb and your hand was removed from his skin before he was ready. He wanted you to pull him towards you and press your lips to his. He wanted to taste your lip gloss, desperate to know what the flavor was. If there was one. 

His gaze dropped to your lips and they parted, your eyes widening ever so slightly.. Just when he was about to make the move, you stepped away, smoothing out your dress to distract yourself. You then looked back up at him, clearing your throat as you did so. 

“Homework?” You asked, the volume of your voice even lower than it usually was. 

“Sure, doll,” he nodded. “Homework.”

Eddie grabbed your backpack from where you left it leaning up against the island then let you pass him, leading him out of the kitchen and to the stairs. He slung a strap of your backpack over his shoulder as you ascended the stairs, feeling very out of place considering that the only reason why ever went to a girl’s room was to sleep with them. And you weren’t going to sleep with him. That wasn’t the kind of girl you were, not that it would have mattered if it was. 

And you were also shameless about your friendship with Eddie. All of his hookups made him sneak in through their window and make him leave the same way because they were ashamed. They just wanted to have a fun time with Eddie “the freak” Munson and then make him swear to not tell anyone. He always said he didn’t mind, but that kind of treatment does something to a person. Not that Eddie would have admitted that his feelings were hurt by it. 

You got to the door of your bedroom and opened it, heading inside with Eddie hot on your heels. You stood in the center of the room awkwardly as he took it in, deciding that it was exactly what he was expecting. He set your backpack down by your desk then pulled out your desk chair, planting himself in it, making himself at home the only way Eddie knew how to do. 

He opened up your backpack and pulled out your book, splaying them out of your desk before turning to you, resting his hands on his lap. He patted the spot, inviting you to take a seat and you hesitantly made your way towards him. You turned your back to him and gingerly sat in his lap before he turned the chair back around to face the desk. 

“So what’s first?” He asked as he rested his chin on your shoulder, looking down at your assignments that were on the desk in front of the both of you. You usually liked doing your homework, but this time, you had no interest in it. 

You wanted to lie next to him in your bed, to have him pressed against you while you stared into his eyes as you played with his hair. You then wanted to kiss him. Nothing crazy, just a little peck. And then he’d chase your lips, deciding that he needed more. And then the two of you would make out for hours, your homework completely forgotten. 

“Sweetheart?” He asked, his hands moving up and down your waist gently, trying to get your attention. Mission accomplished. 

“Hm?” You asked, avoiding his eye contact, knowing that if you looked at him you’d do something that you knew you shouldn’t have. That would have changed your friendship forever and you couldn’t risk losing him because you couldn’t keep your hormones in check.

“I was wondering what you wanted to do first.” His hands were still rubbing against your hips and your mind was reeling of all the things he could have done with those hands. His rough fingers gliding up your soft thighs as he kissed you senseless, but stopping there since he knew that you weren’t comfortable with going any farther. 

“Um,” now your brain was short circuiting. There was no way you could focus on anything being that close to him. Feeling his breath on your skin, smelling his cologne that was mixed with the cigarette smoke that lingered on all of his clothing. It was absolutely intoxicating and driving you mad. 

You pushed away from the desk to free yourself then stood up, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. He had to go and right then. Your feelings for him were getting overwhelming now that you were alone with him and you were starting to feel sick to your stomach, seeing the worried look on his face. 

You turned to face your window, not wanting him to see you like that. It was all too embarrassing. That you had fallen for the boy who you thought was out of your league. The one who definitely only saw you as a friend and now you were mistaking his niceness for attraction and there was no way in hell that was what was going on between the two of you. 

“Y/n?” Eddie asked softly as he approached you gently, as if he was trying to show a spooked animal that he wasn’t a threat. He was blaming himself for your sudden mood change. He had gone too far by asking you to sit in his lap and now he had made you uncomfortable. 

His hand gently rested on your shoulder and you whipped around, putting your hands out as if to tell him to back up. He put his hands up in defense and did what he assumed you were silently asking. 

“Stay back,” you commanded, your voice the loudest he had ever heard and now he knew that he had fucked up. God, he was always screwing up and now he was sure that you were going to kick him out and never invite him back. You’d tell him that he didn’t need to pick you up anymore and you’d stop coming to the DnD sessions. And you’d stop sitting with him and the others at lunch, finding another group to sit with. And it’d be easy for you because you were so likable and a sweetheart.

“What’s going on?” He asked, his voice now getting small. “What did I do?” 

You had no idea why he was asking that. He hadn’t done anything wrong. You were the problem and now you felt even worse for allowing him to believe that it was his fault. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “I-I just need you to leave, okay?”

“Y/n, what-” he tried to speak, but you were making a beeline for him, pushing him towards the door. So this really was the beginning of the end. Your friendship really was. 

“What are you doing? Why are you kicking me out?” Eddie sounded so hurt that you had to tune him out, not wanting your heart to break any more than it already had. 

“Because you have to go. I can’t have you here.”

“Why?” You made the mistake of looking into his eyes and could have sworn that you could hear your heart crack as you saw the sadness take over the pretty brown color, the absolutely heartbroken look on his face. Why did he have to make it even harder to say goodbye? 

But you still opened the door and pushed him into the hallway, watching dejection take over his features. You couldn’t stand to look at him anymore and it was getting frustrating that he wouldn’t just leave. 

“Because I can’t look at you without wondering what your lips would feel like against mine. I can’t stop wondering what it’s like to be cuddled up with you on the couch as we watch a horror movie, knowing that you’ll let me bury my head into your neck when they get too scary. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you reciprocated my feelings, but you don’t so you have to go.” 

With that, you slammed the door in his face and waited for him to come back. To tell you that you were wrong and that he did love you. But he didn’t. You just stared at the closed door, feeling tears well up in your eyes as the seconds passed, further proving that he wasn’t coming. 

You turned away from the door and stared out your window, watching the leaves fall from the trees, wondering why you had to go and fuck everything up. If you hadn’t said a word and just pushed down your feelings, Eddie would have still been there. Your friendship would have still been intact and you wouldn’t have been crying because you had fucked up. 

The door was ripped open and Eddie made a beeline for you, grabbing you by the wrist and turning you around to face him. Before you could even process what was happening, his lips were slotting between yours in a passionate kiss. You gasped into his mouth, but quickly melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck while his went to your waist. 

Your lips slotted together like two puzzle pieces and his were a little chapped, but still as soft as you had imagined. You honestly couldn’t believe it was happening. That after months of pining for him, he had actually reciprocated your feelings. That you were both standing in your room, kissing, and it was everything you had dreamed it would be. 

“Please don’t kick me out again,” he whispered against your lips. “I love you so much that I can't stand being away from you.” 

“I won’t,” you whispered. “Stay as long as you like.”

Eddie’s lips found yours again and this time, his tongue swiped along the seam of your lips and you quickly opened up, letting him inside as you pulled him towards you even more so that your bodies were touching, wanting to leave absolutely no space between the two of you.

“Strawberry,” he mumbled against your lips. 

“What?” You asked through a breath, having no idea what he was talking about. 

“Your lip gloss,” he replied, reaching up and pushing some hair behind your ear. “It tastes like strawberry.” 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Want another taste?”

“Of course,” he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips and you pouted at how short it was. “Already can’t get enough of me, hm?” He chuckled. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m going to need to kiss you all the time now.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckled again, resting his hands against your cheeks. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” With that, he pressed another kiss to your lips, that being your third of many of the night. And even though there were plenty more where that came from, he still felt the need to savor them, wanting to go as slow as he could just so he had more time. Now that he had a little taste, he just knew that he was going to be kissing you any chance he got.

[avelera]

Arcane's Jayce & Viktor: A Tech Industry Perspective

I've been wrestling with whether to make a short and sweet post about these points or to just have another long-winded meta and clearly since I'm incapable of being brief, I guess we'll just dive in.

I work in tech. What I see in this industry colors a lot of how I see Jayce and Viktor in Arcane. I'll try to be brief about a few of the things that stand out to me the most and that I think are intentional.

1 ) Jayce and Viktor are references to Alfred Nobel - This is a historical reference so direct I genuinely don't know how people grasp Jayce and Viktor's characters if you don't know about it.

Alfred Nobel is known for two things: inventing dynamite and bequeathing his subsequent fortune to founding the Nobel Peace Prize. These things are very much related.

Nobel was brilliant but socially naive. When he invented dynamite, he intended it to make life easier and safer for working in mines. Sound familiar? That is literally what the Atlas Gauntlets and Hex Claw Jayce and Viktor invented with Hextech was posed to be. It is a direct reference to Alfred Nobel and dynamite, there is no question about it in my mind whatsoever that they pose the benefit to society as specifically being useful to miners.

Nobel also believed that the awesome destructive power of dynamite would mean the end of warfare. Literally. He thought it was so disgusting and unthinkable that people would use explosives on each other that it would grind violence to a halt. He was very, very wrong about this. So wrong, in fact, that he spent the rest of his life in horror and remorse at how explosives were being used to kill people and created the Nobel Peace Prize to promote innovations aimed at peace, a prize which annually recognizes those who "conferred the greatest benefit to humankind".

Likewise with Jayce and Viktor, they are both horrified to imagine Hextech used for warfare and we think they're incredibly socially naive for thinking this, because they are. Maybe in another universe, there'd be the Talis Peace Prize to try to make up for what they unleashed on the world. Which brings me to my next point:

2 ) Jayce and Viktor have typical engineer blindspots to society's ills - As I've discussed in-depth in another meta, Jayce and Viktor both desperately needed some non-STEM or scientific classes in their life because their worldview is so naive and stunted as a result that it's the source of a dizzying number of their problems. Neither of them could even consider that Hextech, like dynamite, would be weaponized immediately. But they have other huge gaps too as a result of their narrow focus on science, and I do believe this is intentional by the writers as a commentary on engineers and tech people in general.

Short version, Jayce desperately needs some understanding of history and of rhetoric. When Ambessa asks him if his school teaches military history, he doesn't even know if they offer it. She was testing him with that question and as a canny manipulator and general, she clearly takes that to mean she can run circles around him, and she is right. Because with incredibly simplistic plays to his male ego, like calling his leadership "impotent", Ambessa immediately gets Jayce riled up and not thinking clearly. She blindfolds him, spins him around, and shoves him headlong into taking violent military action in exactly the direction she wanted him to go in to kick the nest and set off a war.

Jayce is also easily manipulated by Mel for more benevolent but still self-serving reasons with appeals to his life's work with flattery, his male ego with sex, and his dreams for a better world to make him fall quickly into step with the city's corruption with only a little nudging because he has no strong civic understanding of his own to fall back on. As Cait notes, he's never taken an interest in the Council or politics before until he becomes a Councilor himself.

Short version for Viktor, he wants to make the world a better place but he's never actually had to think through human nature before. He's literally never bothered. We know this because of his blindspot towards Hextech weaponry where he truly believed they could avoid it being used for warfare, and the fact that later in his cult, he's somehow shocked to learn that people will do bad things for the ones they love and won't just slice pieces of their own nature and personality off to fit into his little Utopian commune.

Literally cracking any kind of history or sociology book or heck, a Pratchett Discworld book, would have told him that there's a straight fucking line between deciding people are the problem when it comes to fixing society's ills and eugenics. He falls headlong into that trap and it requires his older, wiser self to beat him over the head with the truth of the horrors of his own simplistic worldview would lead to before he literally annihilates all life in his home city in his attempt to save it.

Which brings me to my next point:

3 ) Jayce and Viktor as oblivious tech nerds who have never cracked a book open but suddenly thinking that because they're great engineers, they have the solution to all of life's problems.

This is a somewhat shorter point, but I think in modern society we all know about the proverbial tech bro who keeps reinventing things like public transportation and taxes because they've never read a book in their life that doesn't have equations in it.

To be clear, they aren't bad people! I'd even hazard to say that young tech bros trying to make public good-based startups with a laughable lack of social awareness aren't bad people either! If anything, the education system has failed them, and they're pouring their intellect and earnest, human desire to help others into endeavors with the narrowest possible world perspective, which happens to be their field of expertise and thus it makes sense they'd see that as the greatest value that can offer, it's just too limited a view so they end up reinventing things that already exist or making worse, more dangerous versions of things that already exist. Tragically, their naive but well-meaning worldview often leads to:

4 ) Viktor and Jayce, but mostly Jayce, as tech bros being beholden to billionaire interests to make their dream come true:

Like Jayce, we see how these tech bros have their vision co-opted by people with a broader vision and understanding of the world, by billionaire investors who turn their inventions into making a quick buck for themselves, to warmongers and dictators who turn the creations of their mind into surveillance state horror stories. Some of that is a lack of wisdom on their parts when it comes to building in safeguards, sure, but part of that is there is a class divide too between the powerful and bright-eyed young inventors who just want to improve the world. As Singed notes, no one in power is ever innocent. And those in power have the capital to make a young inventor's dream come true and thus, tie them to their demands and interests. As Jayce said, they built the Hexgates, "Like [the Councilors] asked." Specifically this indicates that their vision has already been co-opted to serve financial interests. It also, again, makes it almost laughable how naive they are that they didn't realize warfare was next after trade.

Like many tech bros with billionaire investors, Jayce relied on the Kirammans, who were one of the wealthiest people in the city and literally on the Council that represents the State, and on Mel who is also part of the State, who is the wealthiest woman in Piltover, and who comes from a family of world-conquering warmongers, to make his dream come true from the very start.

From the beginning, Jayce was at a losing disadvantage when it came to keeping his dream ideologically pure and free of the influence of the wealthy and powerful.

And finally, just to point out that I'm not making this up, that these parallels are in fact intentional and built into the story:

4 ) Jayce and Viktor as parallels to Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak, founders of Apple. Christian Linke, co-creator of Arcane, specifically noted them as inspirations for Jayce and Viktor's relationship, with Jayce (Jobs) as the face of the company and Viktor (Woz) as the real brains behind the invention.

This caused a lot of sturm and drang on Twitter with people misinterpreting that he means Jayce isn't the actual inventor of Hextech, which I think is an overreaction. Jobs, unlike many tech bros who have earned society's ire lately like Musk, was actually an engineer too. It's completely common in tech spaces for partnerships to be made up of one partner who is able to handle being the public face of the company, and one introverted and socially awkward genius who prefers to sit in a dark room and actually tinker with the problem and who would literally rather set themselves on fire than talk to a non-technical human being. I know because I've been in such partnerships before myself as the public face.

Where Jayce and Viktor rather charmingly buck the stereotypes of that relationship and so in turn actually make it more like what I've seen in the real world, is the fact there isn't resentment between the two as a result. Viktor is glad that Jayce is willing to be the public face and doesn't want to get in the way. This is actually very common with the engineers I know! It's not seen as glory stealing, it's seen as sparing them awful, painful work they don't want to do, like networking.

Yes it means Jayce needs to sacrifice some time in the lab, but it's a simple division of labor that he's happy to do, especially if it frees Viktor from the responsibility so he can focus on what he loves, because Jayce loves him. And you'll note that Jayce is very above-board academically speaking on this front, he always cites Viktor as his partner and is scrupulous in giving Viktor credit, in conversation at least, even if he doesn't forcibly drag Viktor on stage to take credit there.

Anyway, when I write meta or even fic for these two, this sort of background is always on my mind, and I thought it might be valuable for others who maybe aren't as familiar with the tech space as I am.

[darkparablesfan]

Hello again! I am here again with some headcanons. This for a fan event that me and a friend of mine @shuji123 made up!

The event basically is based on Cinderella.

People wears magical glass slippers that leads them to the dance floor where they would dance with their fated true love. However they also been enchanted by a face blind spell that will only disappear once the dance is over.

Here is the boys reactions when they see you as their fated true love.

🌹 Riddle Rosehearts

As the enchantment shatters like spun glass, Riddle turns with a calm breath—expecting decorum.

Then he sees you.

His expression freezes. For a split second, he doesn’t speak—he just stares, eyes wide and full of quiet disbelief. “You…?” The word is barely above a whisper.

Then the guilt sets in. How many times has he scolded you for things you did with good intentions? How many times did you show him kindness anyway? He takes a step forward, voice trembling. “I… I never imagined it could be you. But… I’m glad it is.”

---

♣️ Trey Clover

The moment the spell fades, Trey blinks slowly, turning toward the person who had just been laughing softly with him about his “two left feet.”

“Y/N?”

His smile comes easily—gentle, warm, a little shy around the edges. “Guess the stars were right—you are my perfect match.” He chuckles quietly, then takes off his glasses to clean them—nerves creeping up behind his calm demeanor. “Well, if you’ll have me… I’d be honored to keep dancing with you, glass slippers or not.”

---

♦️ Cater Diamond

He opens his eyes, expecting something MagiCam-worthy. But when he sees you, he just stops.

Like the music vanished.

His painted-on grin falters for a heartbeat, replaced with something real. His brows rise—he’s stunned. Then he lets out a small, breathless laugh. “Woah. You’re seriously my match?” And then softer, “I mean… wow. It feels right.”

Then he’s back to beaming. “Gonna need a selfie with you ASAP, babe~ This moment? Totally priceless.”

---

♥️ Ace Trappola

When the magic lifts, Ace looks around like “okay, let’s get this over with.”

And then—he sees You.

His entire face short-circuits.

“Wha—HUH?! You’re kidding, right?” He laughs, flustered, then rubs the back of his neck with a huff. “I mean—not that I’m complaining or anything, but seriously? You?”

Then, with a rare, genuine softness: “…Guess that explains why dancing with you didn’t suck.” He grins, cheeks red. “Don’t get used to the flattery, ‘kay?”

---

♠️ Deuce Spade

The spell breaks—and Deuce turns to look at his partner, expecting someone graceful, someone elegant...

Instead, he sees you. His eyes go huge. “Y-Y/N?!”

He stumbles over his own feet. “I—I didn’t… You’re my…? Oh man.” His hands hover awkwardly like he’s not sure whether to bow or apologize. Then, slowly, a sincere smile spreads across his face.

“I’m really happy. I can’t believe it’s you… but I’m so glad it is.” He gently offers his hand again—his ears pink. “If it’s okay… can we dance one more time? Just us.”

---

🦁 Leona Kingscholar

The spell lifts, and Leona exhales, impatient. He turns lazily—bored and ready to brush the whole thing off.

But then… he sees you.

His eyes narrow. Then open.

“…Tch.”

You. Of all people.

He looks away for a long moment, jaw clenched. “You?” he mutters under his breath. Not angry—afraid. Because someone like you is dangerous. You are the type that could slip under his guard and stay.

“…You’re really unlucky, you know,” he finally says, voice low. “Getting stuck with a guy like me.”

But he doesn’t walk away.

He stays.

Because deep down, maybe this cursed glass slipper finally fits.

---

🐶 Ruggie Bucchi

The magic fades—and Ruggie blinks fast. His face scrunches up as he sees who it is.

“Wait… huh?! Y/N?!”

He actually chokes on his own spit, then laughs out loud in disbelief.

“Nooo way. Seriously?! You got scammed by fate, huh?” But the laughter doesn’t reach his eyes. Because behind the joke is a flash of awe, a quiet flutter of something he doesn’t think he deserves.

“You… you sure this ain’t some fluke?” he asks quietly, voice softer than usual. And when you smile at him?

He grins, a little crooked.

“…Guess I better stop skipping out on breakfast. Got someone to impress now.”

---

🐺 Jack Howl

Jack feels the magic vanish—and his instincts kick in before his thoughts do. He turns and locks eyes with you.

“…!”

His mouth parts, stunned. “Y/N…?”

He’s completely still. Like someone punched him straight in the chest. His ears twitch, and he looks away almost immediately, the tips of them bright red.

“I—I don’t get it,” he says. “You… you’re always so kind. And strong. Why would someone like you be fated for someone like me?”

Then, more quietly:

“…But I’m not gonna reject it. I’ll work hard to be worthy of it. Of you.”

He gently, almost shyly, holds out his hand again.

---

🐙 Azul Ashengrotto

The enchantment fades. Azul brushes a hand through his hair, ready to paste on his usual pleasant smile—

—and freezes.

His glasses nearly slip off.

“Y/N?” he breathes, startled. His brain short-circuits—surely not. Surely fate wouldn't be so cruel.

Because you’re the one person who helped him, smiled at him, saw through him without demanding a single thing.

His heart sinks.

“This must be a mistake,” he says stiffly, guarding his voice behind a businesslike tone. “You deserve someone… far more noble. Someone better.”

But when you step toward him—soft eyes, genuine smile—his walls crack just a little.

“…I’ll protect this bond,” he murmurs, barely audible. “Even if it’s fragile. Even if it’s foolish.”

---

🍄‍🟫 Jade Leech

The magic lifts. Jade’s ever-present grin flickers into something still. Almost… unreadable.

“Well,” he says smoothly, tilting his head as he stares directly at you. “How utterly unexpected.”

And yet—his heart skips.

You are the one?

The gentle, intuitive person who treated even him with warmth? The one who brought him wildflowers once, just because?

He steps closer with deliberate calm, but there’s a rare glint in his eye—something almost reverent.

“…You do realize what this means, don’t you?” he murmurs. “You’ve wandered into very deep waters, dear Y/N.”

His smile returns—still sharp, but now laced with something tender.

“I hope you’ll let me keep you safe in them.”

---

🦈 Floyd Leech

The second the spell breaks, Floyd whips around in excitement.

“Oi~! Who’s my shrimpy fate—”

Then sees you.

Stares.

Eyes wide. Expression unreadable. For a long second, he’s just… silent.

“…Eh?”

Then it hits.

Like lightning.

A gigantic grin spreads across his face.

“EH?? SHRIMPY?? YOU’RE MINE?? AHAHAHA!! THIS IS SO FUNNY!!”

He grabs you, spins you around. “Now you can’t escape, y’know? Not from fate~!”

But even through the playful tone, there’s a weird softness in his eyes when he looks at you.

“…You really danced with me, huh?” he says, quieter now. “Guess you’re stuck with me forever, Y/N~ …That okay?”

---

☀️ Kalim Al-Asim

The moment the magic lifts, Kalim gasps—

“Y/N?!”

He beams, eyes shining like a child on Christmas morning. It’s not confusion—it’s pure, overflowing joy.

He clasps your hands instantly.

“I can’t believe it was you! That’s amazing! I knew you felt so warm—but you?!”

And then? He laughs. Bright and loud and full of delight.

He whirls you into another impromptu spin. The music may be over, but Kalim is still dancing.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world! You’re my destined one?! I’m gonna tell Jamil! We’re gonna throw a whole party just for this!”

But when things quiet down, he leans in close and says more gently—

“…I really hope I can make you as happy as you make me everyday.”

---

🐍 Jamil Viper

The spell breaks.

Jamil stares. His entire posture stiffens.

He looks at you like someone just told him the moon is in love with the sea.

“You—”

He stops himself.

His heart is racing.

Not because you’re unsuitable. But because you are everything he never dared imagine he could have.

Someone too kind. Too selfless. Too good.

And you are his?

He steps back slightly, gaze guarded, walls going up by instinct.

“…This doesn’t make sense,” he says. “Fate must be mistaken.”

But then he sees your eyes—that look—and his breath hitches.

You're not afraid. You are not second-guessing. You’re just there. Standing there with open arms.

And something inside Jamil breaks—in the best way. His arms wrapped around you.

“…Don’t disappear,” he says quietly. “If this is real… then stay.”

---

💄 Vil Schoenheit

The moment the spell fades and your face becomes clear, Vil’s breath halts.

His eyes widen just a little—barely perceptible to others, but a storm of surprise in his heart.

“…You.”

He says it softly. Like a revelation.

Not in disdain.

Not in disappointment.

But with a kind of reverence he didn’t know he was capable of.

“You’re… my fated one?”

Vil steps closer. He studies you—truly sees you.

Not just your softness or your sweetness—but your strength too. The quiet kind. The kind that shines brightest under pressure.

He exhales, then offers you a hand once more.

“Then I am lucky. Because to be paired with someone like you—someone so sincere… I must be doing something right.”

And though he hides it well, there’s a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

---

🏹 Rook Hunt

“Mon dieu…”

The moment he sees you, Rook presses a hand to his heart like he’s been shot.

His entire face lights up—thrilled, amazed, deeply enchanted.

“Quelle beauté, quelle grâce—! My dear, to think it was you! My heart knew your soul long before my eyes saw your face!”

He circles around you with practiced grace, admiring every gesture, every shift of expression. Not to make you uncomfortable—but like a painter taking in their muse.

“It must be fate. There’s no other explanation for the perfection of this pairing!”

He kisses your hand dramatically.

“I shall devote myself to uncovering every layer of your mystery, ma colombe. This is but the beginning of our story~”

---

🍎 Epel Felmier

“...Wait. Y/N?”

He freezes.

Stares.

His ears go red instantly.

“Wha—You—you’re the person I was dancing with?!”

It short-circuits his brain.

Sure, it felt nice during the dance. Gentle. Comforting. But You?!

He splutters. He’s embarrassed. He doesn't know where to look. His image!! What would Vil say?!

“…W-Well, it’s not like I’m upset or nothin’! I mean, you’re great! I just—uh—wow, seriously? You?”

Then, sheepishly, he mutters under his breath:

“…I guess I’m kinda glad it was you.”

But he won’t say it again.

Unless you asks. (Then maybe.)

---

💻 Idia Shroud

"..."

The silence lasts too long.

The second your face comes into focus, Idia freezes like a computer crashing mid-update.

No words. Just big, horrified eyes and visible internal screaming.

“Y/N?! A-Are you sure the spell's not glitching? Maybe it didn’t update—Did anyone patch-check this thing—?!”

His hair flares pink and blue in chaotic, panicked pulses.

Because out of everyone, it had to be you.

The person who brings food to his dorm, talks gently to Ortho, and—worse of all—smiles at him like he’s someone worth smiling at.

He flails for an escape route, mumbles excuses, nearly trips over the hem of his coat—

But before he can run off, he glances back.

You’re still there. Looking at him. Softly. Not laughing. Not mocking. Just… warm.

And he short-circuits again.

“...N-No way someone like you got stuck with someone like me…”

Yet maybe—just maybe—a part of him is happy.

(Ortho will never let him live it down.)

Ortho beams like a kid on their birthday.

Then, more seriously, he floats up a little closer.

“...Please be patient with Nii-san. He gets scared easily. But I think you might be the one person brave enough to reach him.”

---

🐉 Malleus Draconia

The spell breaks—and he blinks.

You.

You were the one he’d danced with. The one who laughed so gently at his awkward steps. Who offered their hand without hesitation. Who didn’t shy away from the magic in the air—or in him.

A long silence. His expression unreadable at first.

Then, a slow, blooming smile—one that feels like dusk melting into moonlight.

“So… it was you.”

His voice is deep, low, fond.

He gently holds your hand—carefully, reverently. Not as a prince, but as someone who’s been alone for a very long time, and now finds himself seen.

“I have never dare to dream of having someone that the stars sent for me,” he murmurs, “and yet here you are. A light that chose to walk with a shadow.”

He bows over your hand—no grandeur, no theatrics. Just genuine warmth.

“If you will allow it… I would like to remain at your side for all the dances yet to come.”

---

🦇 Lilia Vanrouge

“Oh ho~?”

The moment the spell lifts and he sees you, Lilia’s eyes sparkle with mischief—and something softer underneath.

“Well, well, well. I must have done something good if the stars paired me with you~.”

He takes your hand with a little flourish, still playful—but there’s a rare sincerity in the way his gloved fingers curl around yours.

“You were quite the enchanting partner. Even with the mystery magic... I felt it was you.”

His tone dips briefly, more honest.

“You remind me of the world I used to dream of. Soft, but strong. Kind, but never naive. Someone who could weather even the harshest of times with their heart still intact.”

He winks. “Looks like I just found a reason to stay here a while longer.”

---

⚡ Sebek Zigvolt

“…!!!”

Sebek freezes. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“Y-You—!? Y/N?!”

His face turns bright red.

He is absolutely malfunctioning.

“I- I mean— IT IS AN HONOR! A-AN UNEXPECTED ONE! TO BE DESTINED —TO YOU!”

He straightens up immediately, hand over his heart like he’s pledging to protect you in battle for the rest of his life.

(Which, let’s be honest, he might.)

“You danced… excellently! Yes! You upheld the decorum of the event beautifully! The grace, the dignity—! I was impressed! No—moved!”

He pauses. Lowers his voice, just barely.

“…You’re very gentle. Even to someone like me. That’s… I’ll treasure that.”

He bows stiffly, then softly says:

“I’ll guard you as if you were royalty.”

---

🌘 Silver

He blinks slowly.

“…It was you?”

He sounds… a little dazed. He hadn’t expected it. But as he looks at you, something quiet and peaceful settles behind his eyes.

“…That makes sense.”

There’s a slight flush on his cheeks, but his voice is calm—serene, like morning mist.

“You’ve always made me feel at peace. Even when I’m tired, I can hear your voice and feel safe.”

He gently takes your hand and holds it like it’s something fragile. Precious.

“I would like to keep walking beside you… if you’ll let me.”

And for a moment, just one moment, you swear the usually drowsy Silver smiles—a soft, open smile, like sunlight through clouds.

Hope you guys liked them! 🥰

[angelshimaa]

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ;; 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 (pt. 2)

⤷ feat. midoriya & todoroki <3

✧ cw :: gn!reader, fluff, izuku calls you 'sweetheart' + 'angel', shoto calls you 'love'

✧ a/n :: I love these ones personally ^^ a quick feed bc i'm starting exams !

pt 1.

𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 watches you walk in holding a huge bouquet of flowers, your wide smile covered a little by them. you're struggling a little, but it only encourages a giggle to bubble out of you.

“and these?” izuku laughs, walking over to help you carry them.

as best as you can, you outstretch them to him. “for you, izu!” your laughter prompts his laughter— neither of you understand what's really so funny, but you simmer into the cheerful mood with him.

“you didn't have to, sweetheart,” he tries to get a hold of the bundle of stems, which only has some petals brushing up against his lower face and incites another round of light giggles. “i didn't know they made them this big!”

“as big as my love for you, izu,” you muse, watching the beauty in the colour his refreshed laughter brings to his freckled cheeks. “i won't lie, maybe even bigger—”

izuku twists the bouquet to the side enough to press a kiss to your face. “thank you angel. do we have a vase for these?”

you look at the huge bouquet, laughing once more. “...does anyone have a vase for these?”

“...we can go get one?”

deku smiles once more when he watches your eyes glimmer. “i'll grab the car keys.”

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 holds onto the beautiful flowers you bought, his fingers delicately wrapped around the stems as if he fully expects you to just take them back, tell him you were only joking. he hasn't gone out on many dates with you before, but he's pretty sure he’s the one meant to give you flowers.

“...for me?”

you giggle at your boyfriend. “yes, shoto, for you. do you like them?”

his pretty eyes glance down at the delicate petals and the complimentary colours bring a soft smile to his face— your thoughtfulness makes his heart so warm and he can't believe just how good you are to him.

shoto kisses your temple, his soft lips pressing against your skin. he's so close, and the faint smell of his cologne lingers on him— he's so attractive. “yes, my love. thank you.”

your smile sparkles, more vibrant than his flowers. “you’re welcome, baby— when should I get ready for dinner?”

shoto sets his flowers aside before looking you up and down slowly— only heaven knows why you're so pretty. “you could go like that and you'd still light up the room.”

you smile wider at him, draping your arms around his neck. infatuation sinks into you, sending you loopy as you share tender smiles. “flattery will get you everywhere, mr todoroki.”

his slender fingers hold onto your hips and he gives you a sweet, chaste kiss on the lips.

“i just need it to keep me with you.”

✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

taglist (complete this form if you'd like to join !) :: @maeby-cursed @katsukismrs @himikoslove @pasteldaze @afairywithacrown @moonshuuls-archive @https-spacekay @k0z3me @frannky @sweeteaas @niktwazny303 @justbepeace @bookcluberror @ur-local-simp @awkwardaardvarkforever @dreamcastgirl99 @kinkykeira123 @kissagii @lotionlamp @onlybkgs @kirishima-eijirock .

[tobernaut]

You know, in the COTL fandom I see a lot of Narinder being indoctrinated into a cult where nobody knows his name and he's treated like a regular old follower by the flock. This is great. We LOVE this trope. However, may I offer Narinder being seen as some sort of patron saint like figure who isn't as revered as a god, but sort of considered a good luck charm and idol.

I mean think about it. He was The Lamb's first follower. He favored the lamb so much that they ascended to godhood. He's the reason they have the mighty lamb! Surely if some follower gets on Narinder's good side with trinkets, food, flattery and other gifts they'll get some sort of blessing too. No matter how much Narinder goes out of his way to make himself seem like a Bad Guy, through some crazy series of events everything he does ends up being a net positive.

To Narinder's complete and utter dismay he becomes The Ideal Worshipper everyone aspires to live up to. The Lamb does nothing to dispel these rumors and maybe even feeds into them a little. Some asshole added a huge stained glass portrait of Narinder to the temple, and when The Lamb finally marries him it's a fucking uproar.

Idk. Mindlessly devoted stupid followers my beloved. I can't write so just imagine the fanfiction in your head.

[ducksido]

You said we could spam. This is one of four requests I've been saving. Expect more. Later though. Could you please do a Male!Reader x Housewardens? Reader got a new skirt and shows it off to his partner. (I got a new skirt myself recently and I actually feel very comfortable in it. No yucky dysphoria :D)

-🥀🪻

(I'm really glad you're feeling good in it and that it’s bringing you gender euphoria, not dysphoria. That’s a huge win. You deserve to feel great in your clothes. You're very pretty)

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle’s eyes widened the moment you walked in, lifting your skirt ever so slightly with a proud grin.

“You look…” he pauses, ears pink. “Lovely. It suits you.”

He clears his throat, trying not to stare too obviously, but his gaze keeps drifting down. “The color compliments your eyes. And the way it moves when you walk—very graceful.”

Then he adds, more softly, “I hope it makes you feel as good as it makes me feel seeing you so happy in it.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s lounging on your bed, one eye half-lidded when you strut in and spin once.

He raises an eyebrow. “Huh. That’s new.”

You pause. “Good new?”

He smirks. “Better-than-good. You’ve got legs, herbivore. Show ‘em off.”

You laugh, and he pats his lap lazily. “C’mere. If you’re gonna tease me in that thing, I better get a front-row seat.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul freezes mid-paperwork when you twirl in front of him. For a second, he doesn't say anything.

“…You look stunning,” he eventually breathes.

His voice has that rare, quiet sincerity—no sales pitch, no flattery-for-profit. Just Azul.

“I-I mean, not that you need a skirt to look stunning! But it’s a wonderful choice. You look… radiant. Happy.”

He fiddles with his pen, avoiding your eyes. “May I… take you out tonight? I want everyone to see how beautiful you are.”

Kalim Al-Asim

“Oh WOW!!” Kalim practically launches himself at you in excitement. “Is that new?! It’s SO COOL!”

He circles you like a hyper puppy, tugging at the hem (gently) and asking where you got it, if he can get one too, what colors it comes in…

“You look amazing! Like a prince in a fairy tale!”

You don’t even have to say much—your joy feeds his. He grabs your hands and says with a beaming grin, “You have to wear that at the next party! Everyone needs to see how awesome you look!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil slowly looks you over, his sharp gaze assessing—then softening.

“I was going to suggest you try skirts, actually. You beat me to it.”

He steps closer and adjusts the waist ever so slightly. “Impeccable fit. The silhouette is flawless.”

Then, he cups your cheek and smiles. “But the confidence—that’s what makes it truly beautiful. I’m proud of you. You wear it like it was made for you.”

Idia Shroud

You step into Idia’s room and twirl in front of his gaming chair. He glances up, jaw dropping.

“O-oh. Oh no. You’re hot. You’re, like, final boss-level hot.”

He sinks deeper into his hoodie. “Bro, you just hit me with a status debuff. Stunned. Can’t function. Need a revive—wait, no, don’t actually revive me if I die from how good you look.”

He’s red from ear to ear, and when you laugh and thank him, he mutters, “You look comfy, too. That’s… that’s really cool. I’m glad.”

Malleus Draconia

You walk through the Diasomnia gates and call Malleus’s name. When he sees you, the moonlight catches on your skirt, and he pauses mid-step.

“…It suits you perfectly,” he murmurs.

There’s no teasing, no hesitation. Just reverence.

“You seem to shine even brighter when you feel like yourself. I am honored to witness this side of you.”

He offers you his arm. “May we walk together beneath the stars? I wish to see how the wind plays with your skirt.”

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽️

SPECIAL VERSION I.

(a/n: lmao SURPRISE!! 2 special ver. are coming before I actually end this series. Am i still a bit attached? Sure. Do I know wtf was happening towards the end of the ep? Absolutely not. But do try to enjoy it, tyy 🫶)

Warning-none

wc: 1k

also: @ttheggrimrreaper @irethepotato @ohagiyoo 🤞

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

"Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place as the manager of…

…the U-20 team’s captain, Oliver Aiku!”

You read the neatly printed sentence over and over, the thin card getting more wrinkled with each passing second as your grip tightened around it.

“Is this a joke?” you glanced up to Anri, who nervously looked away before exhaling.

“No, not really.” she said, holding your hand as she continued. “Your scores are extremely impressive, Y/N. Skills that can handle great players, even better than the ones in the facility.”

“Flattery won’t work.” you said, eyes narrowing at her.

“Yes, I understand but the thing is…they need someone capable to handle the captain, and you seemed to be the perfect person to fill in that role. So please for the sake of the facility, accept the offer! They paid us a huge amount for you, it could change your life, and most importantly Blue Lock’s future!”

“…fine.” you hesitantly agreed after minutes of silence, her eyes practically begging you to do it.

Imagine being Oliver Aiku’s manager.

——————

Oliver Aiku—captain of the current Japanese youth team, a well-known figure on the field—is currently shaking your hand as you go over the introductions. A polite smile graces his lips, two-toned eyes locked onto yours, and for a split second, you’re almost certain he gives you a wink.

The conversation flows easily, his friendliness and relaxed demeanor screaming experience with the opposite gender, which you definitely take into account. Nothing serious to worry about—he seems to know exactly where the line is, fully aware that this is purely a professional relationship, and that getting romantically involved with each other is basically forbidden.

You later leave with a satisfied smirk, knowing damn well that paycheck at the end of the month is going to make up for all your worries.

——————

•Let’s get this straight—soccer star Aiku, and normal, everyday Aiku are two very different people. There’s no doubt about in when you see a shift in his personality during the time he’s on the field compared to how he usually behaves when he’s just himself.

•As he’s playing, the essence of being the captain of a team truly shines, his words and actions clearly showing responsibility, and sportsmanship to your surprise, proving exactly why he’s the one to lead the team.

•Luckily professionalism as an athlete is also a great trait of his, interviews, commercials, photoshoots—he does all of them perfectly while balancing training, practice matches, attending meetings and such.

•Aiku who’s always one of the first to arrive in the morning, rarely ever being late. He takes his role seriously, and always manages to hype up the others during the early training sessions. His stats are the result of diligence and hard work—and his usual performance? Impeccable.

•Actually a down to earth person and quite realistic, not really sugarcoating his opinions. He will stand up against anything he deems offensive, or unfair so you don’t even have to worry about getting harassed at work. Kind of like a guard dog, he’s super friendly and easy to approach but really protective when things get tough.

•Now, regular Aiku feels like the complete opposite of his other self—if you could even call it that. Caught with different women each month, his name is a regular on scandal lists in contrast to his polished image as an athlete.

•He’s a walking dating rumor magnet yet somehow, he manages to keep the line between being an athlete and a womanizer dangerously blurry. A real pain in the ass.

•This is probably the biggest hassle as his manager ‘cause other than that he’s fine. Attends events like usual, strictly follows schedules, and gives amazing answers to the reporters to work with. He would be perfect to manage if really he could just—

•“Stop going out with a different person every two weeks. Please. Or atleast cover your damn face for the sake of your reputation Oliver!”

•One of the few topics where things can turn ugly between you two—arguments about his habits, with him usually staying silent most the time while you scold him for the nth time this week. He promises to change, to be better at hiding but—

•“The paparazzi are just too good these days”

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Aiku realizes how much more he really has to improve on himself, finally putting more focus on training than flirting with girls in his free time—it starts slow but the change is evident.

•He gets a lot better, trying out new ways to train, pushing himself to the limit as you watch him rank higher with each match the team plays. It’s great to see him so determined to win, enjoying the sport with a smile.

•You two get to spend even more time together, and he starts to pick up on the little things he never really noticed before—your favorite color, your go-to snacks, the habits you have when you’re nervous, or how you always throw a glare at his best friend, Sendou, whenever he brags about his dates.

•With the new team comes new friends, and you already knew he’d adapt to the change with ease. New tactics, formations, and goals—it’s a fresh start for him, a whole new beginning.

•Aiku, surprised or not, actually keeps his promise and stops hanging out with different people every night of the year instead using his flirting techniques on you now. It’s starts subtle—like standing too close, or brushing his fingers against yours while you ramble about your day.

•Yet you don’t trust him. Of course you do notice how his antics are now obviously directed to you along the changes in his behavior but the trust issues? They run far too deep, and you don’t want to hurt yourself nor him even when he swears to you he’s changed.

•“Look, I haven’t contacted any of them for months now! I can even delete their numbers if you want me too!” he says one night as the team goes to celebrate their victory.

•“Mmh, good job. Keep that up, and maybe I’ll give you a chance.” you reply, something tugging your heart at the way he looks at you.

•“Yes ma’am.”

•It takes a while before you two get together, going through a few hardships along the way. He loves telling everyone how you fought off a stalker of his on your first date, and how it ended with the two of you at the police station—where he officially asked you to be his girlfriend.

•It’s a core memory that he just can’t stop himself from spilling in interviews—causing even more trouble to his manager, and now lover than before. Though, the fans are thrilled to make couple edits of the two of you.

[lolbree]

returning to my roots for just one second ha. [Click "keep reading" for some design notes and lore! I gave my own interpretations of their personalities/character below. :D]

So I've been really into writing recently. For those who follow my main you would've seen me post lore dumps on my ocs! So honestly I thought it'd be fun to come up with some fanloid concepts. Itz funsiez.

Fanloids are what they sound like; a fan's interpretation of a pre-existing Vocaloid. These guys can be fucking anything. A fan's imagination has no limits. Two of the most notable versions of a fan's Miku are the "dark mikus"; Zatsune and Hagane Miku. Zatsune's the "evil" villainous version of Miku, while Hagane's kinda just a chill metalhead version. The two are like sisters and bond over their Fanloid origin, but they're completely different in personality.

Zatsune takes pride in being a Miku Fanloid. Miku is undoubtedly the most popular Vocaloid in existence, so she wears being an interpretation of the world's most famous singing robot like a badge. She's pretty full of herself, sort of envious of the popularity Miku really gets, so much so that she'll impersonate Miku (in the worst way possible) so the other Vocaloids are like "man Miku's kinda being a dick today". She's sort of the villain that acts as a complete pushover and foils their own plans every single time.

Hagane's the more laid back one. She honestly was just created to be a somewhat pessimistic metalhead version of Miku. She has no vendettas towards Miku like Zatsune does. She kinda finds Zatsune's jealousy silly considering she's not the only Fanloid of Miku out there (girl that ego is HUGE on Zatsune). Zatsune sometimes tries dragging her into the antics of bullying Miku, Rin, and Len, but is always met with Hagane not giving a shit and kinda telling her to chill out. Her persona onstage is more aggressive and eccentric, but backstage, she mostly she keeps to herself. She just likes the guitar.....and LED lights.

You might be wondering what Miku herself thinks of these two? You know what they say. Identity theft is the biggest form of flattery! ...Jk no she doesn't mind the Fanloid Mikus, but I mean how would you react seeing two dark versions of yourself at first. Naturally the other main Vocaloids were like "wtf" when they saw two other Mikus show up.

Okay now for the design notes!:

Zatsune was modeled to have more sharper edges compared to Miku's roundness. Hagane was designed to be more lanky given her more "doomer" personality.

Both Zatsune and Hagane edited their own voices so it's "rougher" since originally, as prototypes, they just had the same voice as Miku herself. ...And they didn't like that.

Zatsune's also pretty picky about singing. If it's a Disney-villain esque musical number, hell yeah! Horror music? Hell yeah! Sappy music about friendship? Hell no!

Being robots, they can paint themselves without worry. Hence the black lipstick on both of them.

Hagane's hair's a little messier due to her being a hardcore metal robot. Rocking it out on stage has gotta mess that up a little bit.

Hagane uses glitter spray in her hair. Listen even the goth-loving metalhead can like glitter.

[hyewka]

Okay okay!

Imagine walking in on long time bestfriend Kai using a pussy pocket on himself! Like...he's whimpering and moaning, edging himself and bullying his pretty dick with it.

And reader is like standing there not knowing what to do in a situation like this except feel the heat pool between her legs until Kai loudly chants reader's name while he's cumming...moaning and whining as he drains himself of everything he's got.

(+ he has such a sweet, reddened face, all sweaty and breathy but his arms are all veiny, wrapped around his huge cock!!....???!!)

From your new freaky deeky anon that loves you so much!!

- 🩰

warnings. assumed kai stole mc’s panties, perv!kai, pocket pussy, sub!kai, childhood best friends, not proofread i got a little excited over this ask lol

when your parents decided to take up the chance of renting a summer vacation home with kai’s family tagging along, practically tight knit family friends because of you and kai’s inseparability since childhood, you agreed in a heartbeat. though you basically see hueningkai enough as it is, you haven’t seen his parents and sisters in forever.

it’s all cheerful and relaxing, getting pulled into a tight, all too familiar hug by kai’s mom when they finally arrive a few hours after you guys settled in, on about how much she missed you and playfully scolding you for not catching up with her that often. “any boyfriend yet?” she teases with a tilt to her voice.

you groan, cheeks hurting with the smile permanent on your face. “not yet aunty, still single.”

“but you’re such a pretty young lady!” Her flattery always has you feeling giddy because you know she means it every time. “stop it” you mutter, carrying her bag for her.

“you know he’s available right?” she gestures towards kai who was unloading the suitcases from the trunk. you unintentionally hone in the bead of sweat that drips down his face, the sun blazing hot shining on him. damn. you snap out of it when she speaks up again. “when you guys get married, i’m owed a thousand.”

you chuckle when he snaps his head to you guys as if his ears are trained to pick up on a conversation that had to do with marriage when it comes out of his mother’s mouth. this is such a typical interaction, always reminding you that you and kai might as well just get married already with like, five kids—you’re almost unfazed. “mom, stop!” he whines, the tips of his ears red.

“hey, this is a girl’s conversation you’re not allowed to join in.” she shoos and you almost double over in laughter at his facial expression as he immediately drops it, going in the house dragging two suitcases loaded with a duffel bag. he always pouts whenever he’s frustrated and its the funniest thing ever.

“he’s such a baby, jesus.” she sighs. “but he’s lovable.” it comes from a motherly place, but it still feels almost like she’s giving you a nudging.

he’s lovable.

but you know that. he is your best friend after all. So you laugh it off.

#######################

you feel like such a pervert. you’ve been standing here for an entire five minutes without a single movement of a muscle. but between the two of you, who was the nastier one?

the one peeking through the already halfway opened door coincidentally or the one having a pair of lace underwear pressed under their nose…while deliriously jacking off. well, okay, you’re kind of at fault for being glued to your spot and not just shutting the door for his privacy but jesus christ. kai was using an entire sex toy in a house full of family? you know the walls were pretty sound proof but your paranoia would dispel any reason for you to act on any sexual urges, so jesus christ.

was he that horny? well he looked it seeing that his legs were entirely spread on his bed. and were those his girlfriend’s panties? but his mom said he was available? so whose-

you’re scared shitless when you notice kai’s clouded, glazed over eyes firmly on you, no longer shut—your hand on the door knob shake. but once again you’re frozen in place, no matter how much your brain tells you to move, you can’t and even crazier, he doesn’t stop even when theres a flash of panic in his features getting rid of the panties pressed to his nose, no—in fact his hand almost blurs as he slides the pocket pussy up and down on his glistening cock. god, his cock. it’s pretty. holy shit it’s pretty. like every part of him, somehow he manages to make an organ that resembles a fucking overcooked hotdog look good. you feel your throat dry, because even more than it not standing weird or bending in directions, it was fucking huge.

you jolt a little when you hear creaking of stairs, immedietely entering inside hueningkai’s room and shutting the door behind you in panic. you lock it.

“fuck.” you breathe. you think you might’ve lost your mind. you really do. because in normal circumstances you would probably unintentionally cockblock him, or at least say something. anything. but you’re fucking enamored at the way his brows furrow, the way he hisses low curses, his broad chest unrhythmic as it falls up and down, heaving.

you’ve always had a hint of his size the few times you’ve caught what you assumed to be accidental boners, but you didn’t know it was this big. It’s almost intimidating. and it has you rubbing your thighs pathetically.

the squelching sounds of the terribly gracious amount of lube and what you assume to be his precum barely does the job of drowning out his pathetic mewls and whining.

all color drains from your face when he calls out to you. it almost felt like you were watching a camboy for a second there. “Y/N, fuck-fuck fuck, are you-” he chokes, the sweat making his face practically glow under the dim light of his room. “do you like this?” he pants, eyes wet and big—the most vulnerable you’ve seen them.

you find yourself dumbly nodding, like you were under some sort of spell, unable to get out words as his moan strains with a final breath, bucking his hip up with the pocket pussy firmly pressed down in his entire length. It looks straight out of a porno the way his mouth falls open, your name out of his lips sinfully once again as he tenses, orgasming.

your instinct is to immediately go to cover his mouth, because for a moment there, he was too goddamn loud! but, god was that a mistake. Because you get a closer look of the drenched panties peeking from under him and your breath hitches.

then your eyes slowly trail back to kai’s that were just completely fucked out. the sheets being covered with dried semen has you guessing that hes been going at it for hours.

was that why his texts to you to shut the bathroom lights were so weirdly full of misspellings? did he…leave the door open on purpose?

his whimper against your palm sends jolts, and your eyes widen at seeing he had his hand on his cock again, pain etched on his eyes, clearly from the overstimulation but he tugs until its growing hard in his hand again, all while holding his eyes on your face. you gulp.

this was going to be a long week.

###################

note. i love childhood best friends sub!kai like theres somethinggg about him

[justlemmeadoreyou]

meet-cute

okayyyy so here is something short n shitty on these new pics that my brain whipped up! tell me if you like this!

words: 1.3k~ish

warnings: flirting, fluff.

***

You loved coming out to this little nook to capture scenes of the city on canvas. Today felt especially inspiring with the beautiful spring weather.

You begin laying out your brushes and squeezing out vibrant shades of paint onto your palette. Losing yourself in the simple motions, you barely notice the passersby around you. That is, until a very familiar voice pipes up from behind.

"Excuse me, miss? Your paintings are absolutely lovely."

You freeze, brush hovering in the air. No, it couldn't be... Slowly, you turn around and your jaw drops. There, flashing his signature dimpled grin, stands Harry Styles himself. Your ultimate celebrity crush in the flesh, mere feet away.

"H-Harry? Harry Styles?" you stammer out, eyes wide.

He chuckles softly. "The one and only. I'm out on a morning stroll and I couldn't help but stop to admire your work. You've got a brilliant talent there."

Your cheeks flush bright pink. "Oh my gosh, thank you! You're—you're really here. I can't believe it!" 

Trying not to completely fangirl and scare him off, you take a deep breath to collect yourself. Harry Styles is complimenting your art. This is actually happening.

"Sorry, I'm just—wow, I'm such a huge fan of yours. Your music means so much to me."

He smiles warmly. "I'm glad you enjoy it, love. Say, would you maybe be interested in doing a little commission for me? Painting my portrait?"

You nearly drop your palette right then and there. "You want me to paint you? Like, really?"

"If you're up for it, yeah! I'd be honoured."

Nodding fervently, you scramble to set up a fresh canvas on your easel. "Yes, absolutely! I'd love to! Just...just tell me how you'd like to pose." 

As Harry arranges himself into a relaxed seated position, you take a moment to study his striking features. From the soft chestnut curls framing his face to those entrancing emerald eyes, he is perfect subject material. Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest.

"Okay, perfect, just like that. Stay right there and I'll get started!"

You take a steadying breath before putting brush to canvas, carefully mapping out Harry's form in broad strokes. The two of you fall into an easy back-and-forth conversation as you work, chatting about everything from his latest album to your shared hometown.

"I've gotta say, your Cheshire accent is pretty damn charming," Harry remarks at one point with a playful wink.

You giggle shyly. "Why thank you, kind sir. Yours isn't too bad either."

Harry throws back his head with a deep, raspy chuckle that has your toes curling in your shoes. "Is that so, darling? Well in that case..." He leans in close enough for you to smell his intoxicating cologne, voice lowering to a sultry murmur. "Perhaps later you'll allow me to read you a bedtime story?"

"Harry!" you gasp in flustered exasperation, half-heartedly swatting his arm as he cackles victoriously. The two of you are so caught up in your playful banter that you barely notice the small crowd starting to gather, whispering and snapping photos as word spreads that the one and only Harry Styles is getting his portrait done.

Harry waves jovially at his fans but remains focused on you, keeping up the easy banter.

"How's it looking over there, Picasso? Doing me justice?"

Glancing up, you smirk. "Well, it's hard to improve upon perfection, but I'm giving it my best shot."

He smiles, and swears he felt his heart skip a beat at your words. "Such flattery! And here I thought you were just a pretty face with those big doe eyes."

You roll said eyes dramatically as your cheeks flush. "Oh, stop trying to put me off, you flirt!"

Over the next little while, you alternate between studying Harry's striking features with lazer-like intensity and flushing furiously whenever he catches you staring. At one point, he pointedly clears his throat.

"You know, most artists usually start on the face when doing portraits," he remarks with a teasing lilt.

Cheeks flaming again, you force your gaze away from the rippling muscles of his forearms where you'd been fixated like a teenager. "Hush you, I'm simply taking my time with the background work first."

"If you say so," he chuckles but obediently returns to stillness, allowing you to slowly build up brushstrokes on the canvas.

Time seems to fly by as your brush strokes bring Harry's image vibrantly to life on the canvas. The swarm of onlookers grows steadily bigger, phones clicking away to document the scene. Several times you have to politely ask people not to get too close and obstruct your view.

With one last few delicate strokes to bring out the shine in Harry's eyes, you finally lean back with a satisfied smile.

"Well, Mr. Styles...what do you think?"

Harry rises from his pose and steps over to admire your handiwork, lips parting in an impressed grin.

"Wow...Y/N, this is incredible! You captured me perfectly!"

You beam proudly, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his praise. "I had some pretty gorgeous subject matter to work with."

Chuckling, Harry carefully plucks the canvas from the easel. "You've definitely earned your payment and then some. Name your price, love."

After some back-and-forth haggling that has the crowd laughing, Harry hands over a generous sum of cash and pulls you in for a warm hug.

"Truly, thank you for this. I'll cherish it forever!"

You bite your lip shyly as he pulls away. "You're more than welcome. Can't say I mind immortalizing that handsome face on canvas."

Harry tosses you one last wink before turning to greet his clamoring fans, the sea of people quickly engulfing him and carrying him off down the street.

As he's shuffled away, Harry feels a pang of disappointment that he didn't get a chance to ask for your number or make plans to see you again. He spent the whole time shamelessly flirting and getting flustered by your adorable blushes and quips. Now he may never get the opportunity to take you out on an actual date.

Once he's finally escorted into his awaiting car, Harry lets out a frustrated huff and runs a hand through his tousled hair. He'd been so wrapped up in your captivating presence that he didn't even think to get your contact information before being mobbed. Rookie mistake.

"Stupid, stupid," he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Just as he's resigning himself to having let a potential connection slip through his fingers, something catches Harry's eye. He glances down at the canvas you had been painting him on, safely tucked onto the seat beside him, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

There, just peeking out from the backside wrapped around the frame, is a scribbled set of numbers. Hurriedly, Harry flips over the painting to inspect further. He lets out a delighted laugh at what he finds.

It's a phone number! Trailing below it in your handwriting are the words "In case you need your portrait updated ;) -Y/N"

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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