#THEY HAVE NO CHEMISTRY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (10)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: as dictated by the results of poll #6, this chapter will include stunt training, clubbing, and an accident. Plus, you've got tub anon to thank for... well... the tub scene :) Oh, and this is kind of 18+. Just a tad.

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Matt and the reader eagerly explore the uncharted waters of their budding relationship. Ewan is booked and busy with the preparation for his new franchise. Will Ewan and his darling even find time for each other, or should they just take this opportunity to let go?

The internet, ever so informative, lets you know that Ewan and Jenna’s arrangement is in its initial stages before he even calls to tell you. 

Their first interview with Josh Horowitz is immediately followed by another feature on the movie set, with the two talking about the pre-production, what they liked about the script, and their chemistry, which according to them, came naturally and did not require much work at all. It was practically the thing they had to work on the least. How lucky. 

A lighthearted reprieve came in the form of a meme that started circulating not long after their interview with Josh. In it, Ewan is caught looking like he's either malfunctioning or deep in a philosophical crisis. The internet ran with it, with captions like, ‘When you realise you left the oven on at home’, to comparing him to an NPC glitching out.

When you asked him about it, he quickly stammered that he simply spaced out. Sure. It was hilarious, nonetheless.

Your publicist Mallory had commented that soon Ewan and Jenna would be obliged to go on pap walks, something that would appear casual and separate from the confines of the project that they’re working on. Something that signals that their relationship is making it into the real world.

“That whole casual ‘just friends hanging out’ vibe they’re gonna push? It’s all part of the gig,” Mallory shared. “Next thing you know, they’ll be taking long walks on the beach or grabbing coffee in some trendy LA spot.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. Even just a little. Sure, you know what the business is like. You’ve been on the same end of that deal just recently, with your own film’s PR efforts. But this arrangement that Ewan has doesn’t seem like the usual short-term fling to drum up buzz. It feels… heavy, like something that might actually stick.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t find it all annoying, darling, but I try to look at it now as part of the job, you know?” he had said, when he phoned you one evening – his afternoon – to let you know that his stay in LA would be much longer than expected. 

You responded with, “Oh, yeah, I completely understand.” What else can you do? You aren’t together – you don’t have a claim to him, and vice versa. You thought that would make things better – easier – but you’re still waiting for that sense of comfort to kick in.

This is for the best, you would remind yourself every time a new headline surfaces. 

It’s only been a month since you last properly saw Ewan, since that night on the rooftop. In the early days, he messaged every day, called whenever he had a spare moment. But slowly, the calls have become shorter, more sporadic – chalked up to his increasingly busy schedule. Your tones have become more dispassionate – he blames it on his exhaustion, profusely swearing that he misses you so fucking much, but something feels different. 

Your job keeps you busy, with your commitments related to the new season of House of the Dragon, event appearances, and gearing up for the release of your film with Jacob. You are even invited to the upcoming Vanity Fair Young Hollywood Ball, an exclusive party to be held in New York.

And Matt is a more than welcome distraction. 

Matt, who has begun spending more time in your apartment after Ewan’s temporary move to LA. Matt, who brings you flowers that are apparently ‘beautiful, but pales in comparison to you’. Matt, who is unfailingly a gentleman, respecting your boundaries and not making a move since that time on your couch after your first date, when you told him to wait. 

He sits with you by your kitchen counter, in a disarmingly tight white shirt that leaves little to the imagination, one sturdy hand nursing a cup of coffee and the other on the small of your back to support you as you sit on the high stool, and you suddenly don’t want him to wait anymore. 

“Have you decided on what you’ll be wearing to the screening tonight, love?” he asks. 

“Why? Does it have to be pre-approved?” you playfully quip, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Ah,” he nods, smiling, playing along, “of course, of course. You think I’m an easy man to date? You’ve got to keep up with my standards, as beautiful as you already are.”

You laugh, playfully mussing his hair, and he catches your wrist before it drops back on the counter. He says, “I ask because I wanted to match you, so to speak. We’d be like two peas in a pod.”

“Oh,” you snort softly, “or you know, like Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

“Funny girl,” he muses, before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, caffeinated and warm and Matty. You notice that his hand on your back is pressed firmer – he didn’t want you to slip when you leaned in. 

Charming bastard. He isn’t making things any easier… or maybe he is. 

Maybe he’s it. 

But the moment’s broken by a loud, offended-sounding meow. You look down to see Sansa, staring at Matt like he’s personally responsible for all the world’s problems.

“Hey, babygirl,” Matt croons, extending a hand toward her. Sansa, the biggest diva of a kitten, just gives him a slow blink before trotting off, clearly unimpressed.

“Calling her babygirl isn’t going to make her warm up to you,” you tease.

“She already doesn’t seem to like me,” he replies, scoffing. “Which is a shock, pretty much, how can she not?”

“So humble, Matthew.” You smile at his effortless charm, his easy personality. That’s all you seem to be doing nowadays. Matt is like your personal ray of sunshine. 

“I’ll win her over,” he declares confidently, sitting upright. “Anything for my lady.”

You roll your eyes. “How very Daemon of you.”

“Actually,” he laughs, “Daemon would probably feed her to Caraxes for being difficult.”

“Matthew!”

“I’m kidding!”

Sansa meows even louder, bounding away towards your bedroom. 

“Leave my Sansa alone,” you say, pointing at him accusingly.

He gives you a sly grin. “I will… if you come here and give me another kiss.”

Before you can respond, he slides your stool closer to his with a smooth movement, catching you off guard. You find yourself practically in his lap, his thighs pressing against yours as he waits, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Okay,” you sigh deeply, narrowing your eyes, unable to mask the smile that graces your lips. “One kiss, but only for Sansa.”

“Oh, shush and kiss me already, love.”

The film screening had been a private event, by invitation only from those who worked on the film. Edward Bluemel, Matt’s good friend, is a fellow actor marking his directorial debut with this film. For a first go, it was impressive, gripping from start to finish. Almost as much as Matt’s hand resting just above your knee, his thumb absentmindedly tracing soft circles into your skin.

Your cheeks had flushed when a particularly steamy scene came on the screen, and it might have been the nervous gremlins in your mind, but you swore Matt’s hand inched higher up your leg.

Now, on your couch, his hand is even higher. He hovers over you, his breath heavy and uneven as his fingers tease at the warmth between your thighs, so close to where you’re already aching for him. 

Maybe it was all the dirty martinis you drank at the open bar after the screening, or maybe this was a long time coming. Either way, you want him, and from the way his lips move urgently against yours, he wants you too.

It dawns on you that the tension is no longer something you can talk yourself out of.

He pulls away, and you protest with a mewling whine, your body arching into him. He nearly growls in frustration, the unspeakable sound you just made having a direct line to his hardened cock. With a gentle tug at the nape of his neck, you pull him back down to your lips, but he resists. 

“We have to slow down,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Because we’re about to cross a line that I won’t be able to hold back from, love.”

“Matt – ”

“I understand – ” He licks his lips, letting out a slow and controlled breath. “ – that you want to wait – ”

Your confession comes out slow and measured, letting him know that this is what you really want. “Maybe I don’t want… to wait anymore.”

“Say that again,” he says slowly, his eyes darkening in lust. 

“Maybe I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Maybe?” he whispers, his voice rough, practically pleading.

“Oh, just fuck me.”

That’s all it takes for him to snap.

He undresses you in record time, ripping off every item of clothing from your body with an eagerness that betrays just how hungry he is for you.

Neither of you even bother to travel to your bedroom. At some point, your entwined naked bodies slip off the couch and onto your plush carpet. 

And you have a heated… What was it called again? 

Oh right – a damn good roll in the hay. 

The water is still warm in your deep clawfoot tub, steam rising gently from the surface. You lean back, head resting against the porcelain, that blissful post-sex daze settling over you. 

Matt slides into the water opposite you, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes haven’t left you since he stepped in, and you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin. It isn’t just the remnants of your earlier intimacy – though that heat still hummed in the air between you – it’s something more. Something you can’t name and maybe you’re afraid to, but it tugs at you all the same.

A small smile plays on his lips, the kind that made your chest tighten – half teasing, half dangerous.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

You exhale a soft laugh, running your fingers lazily through the water, trailing small ripples across the surface. “I’m not exactly complaining, am I?”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to have second thoughts.” His tone is light, but the undercurrent of meaning isn’t lost on you.

You close your eyes, letting the warm water soothe your tired muscles, but even with the comfort of the bath, you can’t quite escape the one person lingering in the back of your mind. 

Matt isn’t Ewan, but he’s here, his presence steady, his charm disarming. He makes you laugh, makes you feel wanted in ways that are simple and uncomplicated, and maybe that’s what you need right now. Maybe it was okay to let yourself enjoy this, to live in this moment without overthinking what it meant.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt asks, leaning forward.

You open your eyes, catching the glint of amusement in his. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” he teases, reaching for your hand.

“Hmm, maybe,” you murmur, meeting his gaze. “You’re too charming for your own good, you know that?”

He chuckles deeply. “I’ve been told. But I like to think it’s part of my appeal.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Cocky bastard.”

He grins, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Takes one to know one.” His hand travels to your leg underneath the water, massaging gently.

“I’m serious, though,” he says softly, his voice taking on a more earnest tone. “I don’t want you overthinking this. We’re good, yeah?”

You nod, but there is a flicker of something else in your chest. Guilt, maybe? But Matt is right here, and he isn’t asking for anything more than what you could give, and for now, that is more than enough.

“We’re good,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiles against your mouth, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Good,” he whispers back, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, the sound muffled as he kisses you again and positions you on top of him. You shuffle forward and discover a very obvious indication that he’s ready for round two of rolling in the hay. Or in the tub. Whatever works. 

He looks absolutely enraptured when you ride him, your motions causing tremors in the water. 

And in the sheer pleasure he gives you, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the smell of lavender, you allow yourself to let go.

The event has the industry buzzing - an exclusive event by Vanity Fair celebrating the rising stars of Hollywood. A masquerade party, the notion of which excited you to no end. You’d only read about such in books, in its medieval iterations, all poofy skirts and velvet waistcoats, the whole concept full of prestige and mystery. 

You spent days prepping with your team, the anticipation building until it felt like a living thing inside you. Your dress, a beautiful piece from Atelier Versace, fits like a glove, one side made of draped black sequins shimmering like liquid night against your skin. The theme is Midnight Elysium, and you look every bit the part - dangerous and glamourous and untouchable. 

Your makeup team did an impeccable job. Your eyeshadow resembles a swirling galaxy, a blend of silver and noir. Your lipstick is a perfect nude shade that matches your skin tone and your features.  

But then there was the mask. The final, necessary touch. Delicate black lace that settles over your eyes, framed with gold filigree and flecks of silver – sharp and ethereal at once. It was a piece of art, something you personally commissioned from a local designer in your hometown.

In a room where everyone claims to know everyone, a mask can be more than just a costume piece. It can be a weapon – giving you the freedom to be both seen and unseen. 

Stepping into the nightclub is like slipping in between worlds. Black velvet drapes line the walls, catching the glow of the minimal lighting – gold and silver chandeliers hanging like constellations. The bass from the music pulses underfoot, sending vibrations through your veins. Faces are obscured by extravagant masks, but you are able to recognise some of them if you look close enough. Milly is speaking to someone by the bar, and you remind yourself to pull her aside for a chat later. Timothee is introducing his date to a small flock of people. And Jacob is bounding right for you the moment you make eye contact. 

“There’s my leading lady,” he greets cheerfully, swooping down to kiss you on both cheeks. He’s wearing a metallic silver vest and trousers, along with a white mask that covers one side of his face like The Phantom.

“Wow,” you say, making a show of appraising him, looking at all 6 foot 5 inches of his figure up and down. “You look like a handsome disco ball.”

He laughs, the sound unmistakable even in the bustling nightclub. “And look at you! What are you, a cyberpunk witch? A sleek dominatrix?” 

“Careful now,” you warn him, “or I might just hex you into getting me a drink.”

“Coming right up,” he says, but his attention is pulled by someone calling his name. “Hold on a sec, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.” You let him lead you further into the room, and you’re swept into the rhythm of it all, moving through the crowd as if you belong – because you do. You’re slowly getting used to the weight of eyes on you, but tonight, it feels as if there’s a shadow you can’t quite shake. 

Your personal shadow in a room full of masked shadows. Your skin prickles, an awareness blooming under your ribs. In all the fuss leading up to this event, you hadn’t really bothered to check the full roster of attendees.

After several rounds of conversation, you excuse yourself for a moment and stand off to the side to take a breather. 

And then you see him.

Ewan stands across the room, a drink in hand, his black leather overcoat tailored to perfection. The mask he wears, a sharp cut of black and gold, adds a dangerous air to him. His effortlessly tousled hair sports a smattering of gold embellishments, like streaks of pale blonde hair. You take him in, every inch of him, that mischievous curve of his lips and the glint of his blue eyes underneath that mask. 

It hits you like a tidal wave, like a fucking hurricane, the longing you’ve tried to suppress for weeks. 

You shouldn’t want him this much, not when you both agreed to the break. To keep some distance. His fake romantic arrangement had made sure of that. And after everything, you knew that some separation was what you both needed. 

But seeing him now, looking at you like he’s starving… it’s enough to unravel every careful thread you’d stitched together since you last touched. You want to look away, pretend that this is just another night, that he’s just another fellow actor among the crowd. But the pull is too strong. It’s as if your legs move on their own volition, and you slowly move through the crowd, almost subconsciously drawn to him. 

He steps deeper into the shadows of the club as you approach, disappearing into one of the more secluded alcoves draped in heavy black velvet. No one will see you there. No one will know any better.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, and the music becomes a distant hum. It’s quieter, darker, and for all the trappings of the Hollywood elite, Ewan is far more intoxicating. 

“You’re here,” you whisper, half in question, half in disbelief.

But he’s already moving towards you, his eyes dark and hungry behind the mask. The air between you crackles with an undeniable need – weeks of distance, of longing, building up to this moment. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his body through your dress, and you so badly want to forget that this is a bad idea.

“I can’t stay away,” he says, his voice low and raw, like it’s costing him to hold back. “Not tonight.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest, every rational thought slipping away as his fingers skim the bare skin of your waist through the slits in your dress. “We… we can’t,” you manage to say, but even to your own ears, it sounds weak. Oh, who are you trying to fool?

“How can I not? Fuck, how can you look like that and expect me to just walk away?”

You want to say something, something sensible, something to remind him of the stakes. But nothing comes to mind, not when his hand brushes up your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. His other hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you. He dips his head down, breathing against your shoulders and your neck, taking you in like a vice. 

“Ewan,” you finally croak. “We agreed not to – ”

“I don’t bloody care,” he cuts you off, his mouth inches from yours. “We agreed to give it some time, sure, but I never agreed to stop wanting you. Besides, I make good on what’s asked of me. I play the part. I deserve to be rewarded, don’t I? And you’re the only prize I desire.”

His words hit you hard, melting any resistance you’d been clinging to. 

“Oh? So… so I’m just a prize now?”

He only smiles. “The only one worth winning.”

Before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you pull him closer and crash your lips into his. 

The kiss is hard, fierce, his mouth feverishly attacking yours. He tastes bittersweet, all hard bourbon and cigarettes. You’re certain that the lipstick your makeup artist painstakingly applied would be wiped clean off. His hands grip you harder, fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You break apart, gasping for breath. His lips are slick, shining in the occasional flicker of neon blue and red lights, his mask casting shadows across his sharp features.

A bright flash from the party's official photographer erupts in the corner, thankfully not pointed in your direction. Still, it momentarily shakes both of you back to reality. 

“Come with me.” His hand slips into yours, fingers curling possessively as he pulls you away from the cacophony of the club. You barely have time to react before you’re being led down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. He pushes open a door, leading you into a smaller room bathed in that same cold, electric blue. Plush seating is arranged haphazardly in the corners, but the space is mostly empty. The low hum of the bass still thrums in the distance, but it’s reduced to a faint echo. The smell gives off cigarette smoke and spilled liquor.

“Smoking area,” he says with a half-smirk, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time himself. “I think.”

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs, utterly unconcerned. “Who cares? It’s just us in here.”

You shoot him a look, glancing back at the door. “Someone could walk in.”

He chuckles, stepping closer, that familiar heat radiating off him like a furnace. “It’s a party, darling. They’re probably wasted out of their minds. And besides…” He taps the edge of his mask, his eyes glinting mischievously behind the black and gold. “The masks?”

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “And if someone does walk in?” you ask, arching a brow. “What then?”

He steps closer, crowding into your space, the tension thick between you. “Then they get a show,” he says, his voice playful and teasing, but laced with something darker. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“You can still walk away, darling,” he offers, trying to bait you when he knows full well that he already has you hooked. “Or, you can just shut up and kiss me.”

So much for giving it time. Ewan’s lips find yours once more, just as desperate, and you barely notice when he directs you to the seating, your back colliding with its velvet exterior. His low groan sends a wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and you think to yourself, this was a terrible idea. 

Your hands roam, finding the planes of his chest. He smoothly takes off his leather overcoat, revealing his bare torso underneath. The sight of it makes your head spin, and you croak unsteadily, “Ewan… not here, baby, we can’t – ”

“I know, darling,” he croons, his hand cradling your face. “I just wanna kiss you. I just want you… to touch me…” His other hand takes yours and drags it down the firm lines of his stomach, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Please, just – ”

The moment is abruptly shattered by the sound of giggling from the hallway, getting louder. Suddenly, the door opens and in stumbles a pair of girls, one of them you recognise to be Jenna. 

“Oh!” The other girl exclaims, clearly delighted by the situation she’s just walked into. She pulls off her mask, revealing herself as Emma Myers. “We found him! We finally found your date.”

Your heart plummets, right down on the liquor stained carpet.

“Hi,” you manage to squeak, getting to your feet and smoothing down your dress which had ridden scandalously higher up your thighs. “I’m – ”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Jenna says, shaking your hand, not the least bit bothered by the state she found you and Ewan in. “I love your work. I’m Jenna.”

“Oh… thank you – ”

Emma steps in, grinning. “Hi! I’m Emma. I’m such a fan.”

“Oh my god, I should be saying that to you guys!” you blurt, feeling a rush of relief at their easy demeanour. “I love Wednesday.”

They both gasp, and soon the three of you are exchanging compliments like old friends, chatting about each other's work with enthusiasm. Ewan, still seated, watches the scene unfold with barely concealed frustration. He eventually stands, shrugging his leather coat back on, and glances at Jenna.

“One of our producers is here,” Jenna explains cheerfully. “She’d love to chat with both of us.”

Right. Ewan’s her date. The word echoes in your mind, but the jealousy you expected to feel is oddly muted now. 

Ewan speaks, addressing only you, “Darling, will you – ”

“I’ve got her,” Emma declares, looping her arm around yours. “I’ve got so much I want to ask you!” Before you know it, she leads you out of the room like you’ve been best friends for years.

Ewan’s eyes stay on you, full of frustration and yearning, even as he and Jenna follow you out the door.

But you barely see him for the rest of the night.

The party is a blur of celebrities and conversations, but your mind keeps drifting back to that stolen moment in the blue-lit room. Eventually, your social battery runs out, and you slip out of the club early, unnoticed by most. 

Back at your hotel, you peel off your dress and drop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the night replay in your head. The feeling of his hands on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours – it’s all too much.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. Ewan One-Eye flashes across the screen.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen, but you pick up. His voice is low, almost cautious. “You left early.”

“I was tired,” you reply, voice soft. “The party was great but it was... a lot.” Mainly because of him.

A beat of silence follows, and you wonder if he's wrestling with what to say next. “Are you okay?” You can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched, eyes dark with worry. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say, unable to hide the tremble in your voice. 

Another long pause, with only his slow breathing on the other end. 

“I hate this,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper, the raw emotion in his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “I fucking hate that he gets to have you, and I don’t… and I can’t… ” He cuts himself off, and you hear the snap of his lighter followed by his sharp exhale.

You bite your lip, your throat tight with emotion. You’ve both been so careful, dancing around each other, pretending that you could stay apart.

“I’m flying back to London tomorrow night,” you blurt out, the words rushing out before you can stop them. It feels like a confession, like you’re admitting defeat.

“I need to see you before you go.”

“Ewan, we agreed – ”

“Fuck what we agreed!” His sudden outburst takes you by surprise, and you hear the raw need in his voice. “I don’t care about the arrangement, I don’t care about the distance. I just... I need you.”

You want to tell him that you need him too. You want to throw caution to the wind and agree to being together in secret despite the false romance he has to portray to the world. But you can’t. 

“I...” Your voice falters. “We’ll see each other soon.” It doesn’t feel like enough. With a soft sigh, you add on a lighter note, “Alyna still has to kick Aemond’s ass, you know.”

A beat passes, and then you hear his tired laugh on the other end. “Right,” he chuckles softly, the sound both comforting and heartbreaking. “Wouldn’t want to keep the fans waiting for that.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, trying for casual, trying not to let your voice crack, “someone’s got to put Aemond in his place.”

“Hmm, well if that place happens to be right in Alyna’s arms, I doubt you’ll hear any complaints about the script from me this time.”

You can’t help but smile at his teasing, but it only deepens the ache in your heart.

“Ewan…” you begin, but the words hang in the air, unspoken. 

“I know, darling,” he replies, his tone resigned yet gentle. “I miss you too.”

The training room is alive with the sounds of clashing swords and laughter, but you can’t help but feel a different kind of electricity buzzing in the air. Maybe it’s just the way Matt looks at you, as you rehearse a scene where Daemon helps Alyna brush up on her sword fighting. 

You lunge forward, initiating the first move with confidence, and he counters effortlessly, the blades clashing in a symphony of steel. The practice moves are intense, each swing bringing you closer. His eyes darken with focus as he follows your movements, and for a moment, it becomes easy to forget the rest of the stunt crew in the room. 

“Nice footwork,” Matt compliments, stepping in closer. His body brushes against yours, sending a rush of heat through you. Ever since your night together, he has only been more brazen with his affections. “But you’re leaving yourself open here.” He demonstrates, his sword brushing against your side as he adjusts your stance.

“There,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “feel that?” You swallow nervously, grateful that the stunt coordinator had moved on to Harry in the far side of the room.

“I think I might be too open,” you manage to say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Maybe,” Matt murmurs, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “But I can’t help but want to close the distance.”

As you move through the choreography, you both fall into a rhythm, and almost inevitably, the fight turns into something more playful. You circle each other, exchanging faux blows and laughter, the distracting banter causing the stunt director to approach and get you both back on track. 

Next up, you have to train for Alyna’s pivotal scene where she attempts to mount Caraxes as per Daemon’s command. 

As you practice the mounting technique on the mechanical dragon, you’re hyper-aware of every movement. The crew watches closely, ready to offer guidance. You grip the handles tightly, adrenaline coursing through your veins, and for a brief moment, you lose yourself in the character, feeling the thrill of the scene.

But then it happens. The Buck jolts unexpectedly, throwing you off balance. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself slipping. You try to brace for impact, but it’s too late. You land hard, the pain shooting through your ankle as it twists at an unnatural angle.

There is a stinging sensation too, by the side of your head, and all you think is – oh fuck. The world around you fades to a blur, just as chaos erupts.

When you finally regain consciousness, the sterile scent of antiseptic fills your nostrils. Your surroundings come into focus slowly, and your heart races when you realise you’re in a hospital room. The steady beep of a monitor is the only sound, punctuated by the faint rustle of fabric.

You feel his hand on yours before your eyes even land on his figure, slumped on a chair beside your bed. His head rests on his shoulder, his grip still lightly holding your hand. His brow is furrowed in worry, even in sleep. 

You feel lightheaded, and for a moment you worry that your concussion might be worse than it is, but no. It's just him. 

Then, the sound of your movement catches his attention. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open, and when he meets your gaze, relief instantly washes over his features. 

“Love… you’re awake.”

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Some notes in the margins...

Well, well, well. Yous were convinced that Matty would get the clubbing scene, helped by the red herring of his dancing video. Alas!

Is that Matty at the end there? Or a certain Mitchelly man? Hmm... one wonders. 💖

Complaints? Refund requests? Please direct your thoughts in the comments section below. I can 100% guarantee a satisfying solution. Or 70%.

Or, you know, bugger it. We're all in this together, better or worse ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[storytellering]

Do you think DMC has a incestuous subtext? I am kind of new to the franchise (and also the fandom... Which isn't really respectful that I can see) and I want to know if I am not the only one who thinks that it's pretty obvious why the ships between DVN have many believers.

First of all, welcome to DMC, anon! And OH BOY, you'll definitely find that that's the majority opinion, at least within the Spardacest circles - honestly, most "normie" circles too. Every grass-touching, non-internet poisoned dudebro I've ever met and talked dmc with has made one or two incest jokes at me about it, definitely noting how the rivalry between the twins is very charged - the only people I've found who flat out deny it are the antis. To go more in depth about the actual subtext there - well, one should start with the roots of dmc in dmc1, right? DMC1 is definitely a gothic game - it's everywhere in the aesthetics, the inspirations, the imagery and the environment, and what is gothic horror without the incest? The initial incest in Kamiya's dmc, before Itsuno stepped in, was definitely obvious in Dante and Trish (who I'm pretty sure according to kamiya at least were supposed to be endgame) - and like, c'mon. You can say all you want that she only looks like his mom, she isn't actually Eva, she doesn't even have her personality... but from a moral perspective, that's still weird as fuck if we're going by real life standards, right? You wouldn't fuck a clone of your mom without it being at least a little bit incestuous.

Then Itsuno stepped in from 3 on, and the incestuous undertones became more focused on the immediate Sparda family - the twins, and eventually, Nero.

...Do I need to even explain it? Sure, in 3 the twins bicker and banter like real brothers, but there's definitely a suggestive edge to it - so many quips between them that really cannot be explained by "oh haha brotherly banter" without it getting at least a little bit weird. Not to mention all the "impalement as penetration" comparisons that can be drawn, and I'll leave a nice little video that goes deeper into a lot of that (as well as the gothic inspirations in the dmc franchise) so you can hear it from the mouth of someone far more eloquent than me.

And then in 4... I mean, if the amount of people who almost ubiquitously shipped Dante and Nero as soon as 4 dropped and continued doing so until 5 officially confirmed their relation (which, to be fair, Nero being Dante's nephew had actually been hinted at all along, but exactly because of so many people shipping them and not wanting it to be incestuous/the dudebros not liking Nero very much when 4 was new, pretty much everyone in the english speaking side of the fandom had been in denial about it until 5 spelled it out in big, bold letters) is kind of the test, no? That the tension and chemistry is so obvious the moment the incest element is hidden or unclear, everyone is suddenly in agreement about it. I could go on and on and on about Nero's obvious puppy crush/hero worship on Dante, Dante's immediate fondness of Nero, how if you read the 4 novels it's even more blatant and in your face... but all I'm gonna say is that that initial fight scene was softcore porn and no one can convince me otherwise, lmao. Listen, I'm just saying that if the intention wasn't to be suggestive, having Nero wrap his legs around Dante to pull him closer, bite his gun, and then straddle him like that was a very poor choice. Honorable mention for the reboot, whose devs were VERY aware of the tension between the Spardas in the og franchise, called it out by saying their game wasn't gonna do "all that gay shit" (obviously in the early 2010s the issue wasn't the incest, but it being GAY incest 🙄) and then accidentally made their version of the twins SO very....... whatever the hell is going on with the reboot twins. Not not-incestuous and definitely not straight, I'll tell you that.

And then 5, again. Do I need to explain it? Nero and V are, once again, a perfect textbook example of "couple that had so much natural chemistry everyone was flocking to it before it was revealed to be incest", plus the way everything about Dante's story, at the end, now that he's a weathered old man, is made to revolve around Vergil... yes, Dante is a depressed old alcoholic because he pushed everyone away, because of the laundry list of issues he ended up with because of everything that happened in his life, BUT Vergil was always front and center within it, even when he wasn't there. That Dante's story quite literally begins and ends with Vergil... well. I dunno about you, that just doesn't feel like your regular siblings dynamic. Also another honorable mention: "I'll make you submit" is a totally normal thing to say to your estranged father. Not weird at all with absolutely zero implications. OH, not to mention, even if we stay purely within canon and don't even look deeper at any implications or subtext... the literal only canon couple is incestuous, too. Let's not forget Kyrie and Nero are adopted siblings, Nero was raised as her brother, and the game itself calls it out in the character descritption (in 4's character bios it says Kyrie is at once Nero's "lover and family") + it's quite literally spelled out in the novels (having Nero think that "well, while it's true that he's been raised with Kyrie as siblings, he would've liked her even if they weren't family"). There's SO much more I could still go into, I have quite literally spent the past 3 years replaying the games over and over and overthinking/hyperanalizing every single frame, rereading the novels and the mangas to the point I could cite them by memory, and it's just... I dunno. I saw someone else say this somewhere, but if you're into DMC and grossed out by incest... this might not be the franchise for you.

[descendantsramblings]

Hi :)) idk if you’re accepting requests but I was just thinking…

I remembered that Hook canonically went to Eaton College, which is a pretty prestigious university, so he must actually be really fricking smart. I wish I knew what he studied tho :/ So anyway, I was hoping maybe you would write something (preferably x reader?) where he surprises everyone with his intelligence? I feel like the other VKs probably don’t actually know just how clever he is and would be taken off guard to realise it. I don’t have any specific situations in mind but I’d really like to see maybe reader acknowledge and recognise him as more than the pretty rebel he lets everyone see him as

I’m always accepting requests, it’s so fun getting to make things for someone, and it’s great writing practice. I’m almost done with all the ones I have, keep them coming 🩵

I love secretly smart characters, making a right old Evie out of him right now. I love him. (I had so many tabs open to get this right, so so many. I did Chemistry for the gag but it wasn’t worth the gag.)

Studious

James Hook x VK!Reader

Pronouns used: they/them/theirs

Summary: If it means that much to his partner, Hook can be a bit of a tutor

Warnings: pet names, swearing, sexual references, high school chemistry (Like the actual class that made me cry when I was a student), does sword fighting need a trigger warning?, Or fake moaning? Hook's partner making a joke about him having a thing for Morgie, Uliana almost makes a potion explode

Word Count: 3.5K

      Nervous fingers are shuffling through flashcards as the pirate walks into their dorm. His smirk being accompanied by raised eyebrows as he leans on the door frame, taking in the sight. They have their textbook and notebook spread out across the floor, sitting cross legged between the two. Pens and highlighters strewn around them and an empty notebook and study guide directly before them. (Y/n) is staring at them with a pout and wide eyes, huffing as they drop the flash cards beside them. “This is fucking ridiculous,” the words are barely a mumble, popping the knuckles on stressed hands as they say it. They stretch their shoulders back as well before reaching back down for the collection of brightly colored cardstock. 

   “Since when do you have to study, wizkid?” The words make their head shoot up, staring at the boy they hadn’t noticed had entered. “Since Chemistry is kicking my ass, I have to pass this exam or I’m going to fail the class again. If I fail it twice this year I won’t have enough credits to be a senior next year,” their voice is far too fast, rambling on as they reach back down for their study guide. “I thought you exempted all your exams,” he tilts his head as he speaks, watching them shuffle their cards for the third time since he made his way into the room. “Yeah, well I bombed my last two tests -like fifty-two and thirty-five level bombed- and all the As and Bs I have on experiments can’t save me there. So either I make an A on this exam or I fail the entire class for the second time. I am so royally screwed.” With a sigh, Hook makes his way over to the villain on the floor, falling to sit before them with crossed legs and an outstretched hand. “Give me the cards.” “No, I seriously need to study, James. I cannot go do whatever Uli sent you in here  for right now.” 

   He scoffs, leaning forward to snatch the cards from their loose grip on them. “I can come see my partner just because I want to be around them, you know. I don’t always have to be doing something for the group. I do enjoy your company, wouldn't be your boyfriend otherwise.” Dark eyes widen mockingly with raised brows as he finished the sentiment, head shaking in a near-bratty manner. He flips through the cards, letting his eyes ghost over the words and formulas. This was basic chemistry. He did this his sophomore year, he could probably do it in his sleep. “Even then, James, I really need to study. I cannot fail this again.” He lets his eyes cut up to them, a smirk still present across his pouty lips. “Oh of course you do, I can’t have my partner as a super senior. That’s just embarrassing for us both,” he drops the cards into his lap, reaching over for their study guide. He flips it over a time or two, barely reading it. 

  “Okay,” they draw out the word, reaching out to snatch their cards back from where they rest on his thigh, “Then let me study. Really, Honey, can’t you go harass Morgie or Bridget or something?” “Why harass them when my favorite person is right here struggling with the easiest subject ever? That’s much better material.”  (Y/n) scoffs, looking up at him from their flashcards. James is too busy looking over the back of their study guide to give them so much as a second glance, but his face holds this cocky expression. As if the boy is challenging them to snap back. “The easiest subject ever? As if. I bet you got a B in there at absolute best. I need more than a B on this to pass.” “I actually finished Chemistry One with a perfect score and finished AP Chemistry Two with a ninety-nine percent, since you’re asking.” He drops the papers into his lap, raising an eyebrow with the same challenging look in his eye as when he’s sparring against them. His hand shoots out for the cards again, flipping it from the one that they had been looking at and giving it a sparing glance. Eyes cutting back up to his partner just as quickly as they cut down, “Now, what is the definition of an intensive property?” 

    So they’re really doing this? (Y/n) guesses they shouldn’t argue, they do need the help. And if James is anywhere near as good as he says, this might be their best bet. “An intensive property is,” they let their eyes dart around the room, as if the decor on their walls would hold the answer. “Come on now, Love. Don’t draw it out. What’s an intensive property?” They bite their lip, looking down to their empty lap, “An intensive property is a property which does not rely on the amount of matter present.” A golden hook comes into their line of sight, tucking under their chin to lift their head up. When they look at Hook, he’s inches away from them, “Okay, and what are examples of an intensive property?” The hook beneath their chin moves, the sharp edge barely hovering below their skin. No looking away this time, that was a silent command for their eyes on him. “Boiling and melting points, density, and,” they snap their fingers, dragging out the one syllable word as they think. “And? Come on now, you know this.” “And,” they lock eyes with him, by god those brown eyes were captivating. It was like they were electric, sparking with some sense of excitement and pride that they couldn’t understand. Electric, that’s something right? Electricity isn’t a property of something though, but it seemed right. Why does it seem right? What did electricity have to do with intensive properties? “Conductivity,” they subconsciously cross the fingers on their right hand, staring into their boyfriend’s eyes with a longing to be correct. He nods, pulling them forward slightly. James kisses them with a feather light touch, smiling against their lips as they attempt to draw him closer. “See, I knew you knew it.” 

   They don’t get to respond before he’s drawing back, completely withdrawing his touch as he flips to the next card, dropping “intensive properties” to his lap. “What’s an atomic number?”  “What? No, what was that? You barely kissed me,” they’re pouting, reaching out for a jaw that’s pulling away from them. “What’s an atomic number?” He raises his eyebrows as he speaks, pulling further away as they get on their knees to chase his fleeting lips, “If you want to kiss me you have to answer the question.” “The number of neutrons in an atom's nucleus. Now kiss me again,” they’re fully perched on their knees now, leaning over him as he leans back to get away. James makes a loud noise similar to the sound of a buzzer going off, dropping the card in his hand and using them to cover his mouth. “What is an isotope?” (Y/n) falls back with a huff, completely discouraged as they stare with gaped lips, “What? Where’s my kiss?” 

     He pulls the cards down to smirk over the neon green paper, “I don’t reward wrong answers.” “I wasn’t wrong!” “You were, it’s not the neutrons in the nucleus but what?” A frown crosses the villain’s lips, shoulders slumping as they realize what they’d done. “Protons.” He nods, humming as he raises his brows, “Okay, new question, what’s an isotope?” “You’re awful, this is awful.”  “What’s an isotope?” They rise back up on their knees with a smirk, “What about, one kiss when I correct myself, two kisses when I’m right the first time?” He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he does, “How about you tell me what an isotope is?” “Oh come on,” they’re whining, a hand wrapping around his hook. “Come on and answer the question.” His brows are raised, watching them pout. With wide eyes and batted lashes they let a hand trail up from metal to leather, slowly making its way up to his shoulder. “Captain, won’t you please give me a kiss? I want one so bad. I need your lips.” In any other circumstance that would work, it always worked. But James was already glowing as he looked over notecards, shaking his head with his smirk far more of a smile than normal. “That’s not going to work this time, Love. Now answer the question.” This might just be his new torture method, and by god is it working. (Y/n) was going to go crazy if they didn’t get what they wanted soon. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

   As a pirate, Hook was no stranger to drawing out torture, but he couldn’t stand to sit still for long. His love of chemistry and watching the gorgeous villain in front of him squirm could only keep him bound to one place for so long until he felt as if he might be going stir crazy. Which is how they ended up in a clearing in the woods, standing in a wide stance with swords balanced in their hands. Iron making a sharp “X” between them as they press against one another.  The ravenous look in (Y/n)’s eyes surely matched the crazed look in his, smirks present on either villain’s lips. They made one hell of a sparring partner, he’d learned that the day they met. Never took much to get the two of them alone like this either, the boy longed for the other villain’s sportsmanship. A worthy opponent was hard to come by outside of Neverland, and his lover looked so good while sword fighting that he struggled to focus. Now though, as he spits out questions they struggle to follow, it seems like they knew how he normally felt. 

    They might have quick feet and strong arms, but their pretty mind is making them lag behind. Each time their swords would cross, he’d spurt out a new question, holding them hostage until they could find an answer he saw as fitting. Each wrong answer was met with a strike to their left, correct answers with a strike to their right. They’d start a new battle, clashing metal and devious laughter until one of them could find the other pinned once again. It was the most fun he’d had in years, that annoyed little pout on their face with each new question seemed to only make the game all the more fun. “What’s the atomic number of gold?” “Hook,” despite their tense body language, the name comes out on a whine, pout growing more than the boy thought was possible. “It is gold, yes, now what would its atomic number be?” He’s chuckling to himself and he awaits their response. Their eyes flicker around him, lip between their teeth. “Seventy-nine.” He jumps back from them, sword striking out at their right side. The motion is caught by their own sword while (Y/n) lets out a giggle. 

   “I got it right!” They use their sword to force the tip of his away, turning their body to the left as they strike out above his left shoulder. “That you did, Love,” he swings to the right with a smile, bringing his sword up to push against theirs. He twists his body, gaining the upper hand as he pushes against them. (Y/n) is cringing, realizing how close they were to being cornered by him again. How could they let themself get so distracted? He’s pushing them back, and though they push forward, their sword slides down again, both villains ending up eye to eye with a new iron cross section between them. “You made that too easy,” James smirks, looking them up and down. “I didn’t, you just, that question threw me off. I don’t even know how I knew the answer.” He shakes his head, “You can’t let yourself get thrown off in a sword fight love. Your other opponents might not be as forgiving as me.” He leans over the swords for a moment, pecking their lips before he squares his shoulders back. 

   Hook’s resistance was always strong and unforgiving in a fight, even when he allowed himself a moment of calm in the storm he created. The boy pushes harder on their swords, smirking at his lover as he raises an eyebrow. “What’s a homogeneous mixture?” There’s this flicker of something in his partner’s eyes. A giggle escaping their lips as they smile at him, head tilting to the side. “Isn’t that what you and Morgie are?” He pushes rougher against them, feeling the way their laughter shakes the sword in their iron grip. “Very funny, Darling. Now answer the question, unless you want to walk the plank,” he’s stepping closer, their swords sliding ever so slightly straighter against each other. “You wouldn’t dare, you love me too much.” He hums, shaking his head, “Positive? According to you, I love Morgie, so which is it?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

     “You two are late,” she doesn’t look up from her cauldron as she speaks, Uliana automatically knows who’s wandering in by their footsteps. The sounds are perfectly in sync, heavy pairs of boots falling in time as if they moved as one. When the two become visible in the hideout, their faces are red with a sweat sheen across their foreheads. Hook’s arm adoringly around (Y/n)’s waist as they lean against him,  the clothing of both teens ruffled from the movements they’d made while jousting. It’s cozy, needy, and the couple’s appearance quickly attracts the attention of Morgie and Hades. Both boys look to their friends with a smirk, cutting each other a sparing glance before turning back. “What have you two been up to?” Hades gives them a once over taking in how Hook’s shirt had come untucked and the wrinkles in the hem of (Y/n)’s top. “Been helping (Y/n) study for chemistry,” Hook shrugs, falling into a chair and pulling his partner down into his lap. Warm arms encapsulate the villain as they lean into his touch, smiling as his head settles on their left shoulder. A kiss being pressed to the shell of their ear earning the boy a hum.

     The sound of Hades laughing fills the room, his eyes rolling in their sockets, “Yeah, I’m sure you have been.” Hook can tell where this is going from a mile away, especially with the gorgeous look of exhaustion taking over his lover’s face. Relaxed muscles that are hidden behind heat blushed flesh. Sweat shines on their forehead and neck while their eyelids hang lower than normal. (Y/n) always looked tired and blissed out after a good duel, smiling lazily as they cling to him. He knew how they looked, and with the genuine topic at hand it definitely seemed like Hook had done nothing more than making an innuendo. If he was honest, part of him hoped that the boys thought it was an innuendo, tutoring just wasn’t his style. “We were, Hades. Excellent study session, actually. Of course, (Y/n) has always been the smartest person I know.” The god raises his brows, smirk growing as he turns to Morgie, “You don’t say. Morgie, I bet you overhear a lot of those study sessions, don’t you?” The sorcerer smirks right back, an evil glint resting in his eyes, “Oh yeah, I think the last one was English though. Studying a poem maybe?” 

    (Y/n) feels Hook’s hand sneak onto their thigh as the boys talk, an amused smirk resting on their face. He lets his fingers spread, taking up as much of the plush part of their leg as he can. “Really, Morgie? Why would you say that?” Hades is letting his eyes flicker between the overly cozy couple and Morgie as he speaks, watching for tell-tale signs that the villains were flustered. “Oh you know, I just recognized the opening line,” his finger taps his chin as he speaks, “What was it again? Oh yeah!” Morgie’s face falls to mimic a blissed out expression, hand gripping on his chest as he speaks on a nearly pornographic moan, “Oh Captain, my Captain!” Hades and Morgie fall into each other’s sides laughing, the noise they’re making earning an annoyed scoff from a preoccupied Uliana. “If you two idiots could make yourself useful, that would be great,” she’s turning, grabbing a vial of rattlesnake venom from a shelf. 

   “Study session isn’t over, Love,” Hook’s voice is soft, plush lips moving against the shell of their ear as he whispers. His words lead to them whining, head falling back against his shoulder as they pout. “My head is too full, Baby. I’ve had enough.” He chuckles, kissing their cheek as his finger moves across their thigh in an “S” shape. “Tell me the element,” he whispers, repeating the shape across their leg. “Sulfur,” they mumble, eyes focusing in on the way Uliana moves. He kisses their shoulder, “Good job.” He draws a circle next. “Oxygen.” Another kiss falls on their shoulder. It becomes a pattern. He’d draw the symbol of an element on their thigh, they would tell him the name of it. The shape repeats until they get it right, ones they got correct on the first try lead to them being rewarded with a kiss to the shoulder or neck. 

    Somewhere, though it’s partially tuned out by the pirate and his lover, Morgie is explaining what Uliana is up to.  Something about making a potion to sneak into Charming’s food, apparently he spilt Uliana’s drink all over her when she was leaving a coffee shop. Some sort of spell to make the boy clumsy enough to spill everything on himself for twenty four hours. (Y/n) can’t focus on that, not with the way that James is tracing a “Y” on their inner thigh. What element’s symbol was “Y”? “You’re making that up,” they mumble and he shakes his head against them in response. “Think harder.” “It’s too hard to think when you’re doing it there,” the words come out in a hiss, eyes cutting over their shoulder to see the smirk on his face. “Try harder then, Love.” 

   Maleficent makes her way past them, holding a little vial of something as she does. “It took forever to find this shit in the AP Chem room, just so you know. Better be worth the trouble.” Uliana scoffs, reaching an arm out for it, “It will be.” Hades and Morgie stand up to follow the dark pixie, the god cutting James and (Y/n) a look. His eyes zero in on Hook’s hand, laughing softly, “God, Hook, you are just insatiable.” The pirate winks at him over (Y/n)’s shoulder, kissing their shoulder as they softly mumble, “Yttrium.” “Good job,” he coos, letting his eyes follow the other villains. Maleficent said she’d taken something from the chem room, what is it?     “What you got there, Mali?” She turns to smirk at Hook, “Finishing ingredient to the potion. Though, it looks like we could have just got it off of (Y/n). What have you been doing to them to have them sweating like that, Hook?” His brows furrow, looking at the vial of powder in Uliana’s hand as she stands dangerously close to the fire-heated cauldron. They could get it from (Y/n)’s sweat? What could she be- his blood runs cold as Uliana goes to pull the stopper out of the bottle.

  “Uliana, don’t!” He’s throwing a very startled (Y/n) off of his lap as he jumps up, running towards the group. “What, you have a soft spot for Charming now?” He’s shaking his head furiously as he reaches out for the vial. “You can’t put that in there right now. It needs to cool.” Her  arms cross, holding the vial away from his panicked hand. “What are you talking about?”  Dark eyes stay trained on the vial, shaking his head as he speaks, “That’s sodium, right? That’s what the joke about the sweat means?” She nods, a brow raised as she waves a hand for him to hurry up and explain himself. “So, you cannot add heat to sodium.” “People add heat to salt all the time, Hook. We’ll be fine.”  She’s not listening, she never listens.

   “It’s not salt, Uli. Sodium is only half of salt.” “The other half is chlorine,” (Y/n) calls out from the other side of the room. And Hook smiles slightly, giving them a thumbs up behind his back. “So what, you’re saying that I can’t use it?” Uliana is obviously growing tired of him, but there seems to be a gear turning in Maleficent's head. “Not with heat, unless you don’t like having eyebrows,” Hook shakes his head, an arm once again reaching out for the vial. “Are you threatening me?” He groans, dragging his hand down his face, “Fine Uliana, add heat to Sodium and make it explode. Explode with it for all I care. It’s your funeral.”  Hades looks between the two, watching Hook storm away from them as he extinguishes the fire under the cauldron. “Uliana, just let it cool. Hook, you two were actually studying chemistry?” He scoffs, waving him off, “I am more than a pretty face, Hades.” “But, you were all tired and sweaty?” “Made me answer questions while we were sword fighting,” (Y/n) shrugs. “But, his hand moving on your inner thigh?” “Tracing atomic symbols on their thigh,” Hook shrugs, reaching out for his partner who walks into his arms with a giggle. They were actually studying? Who in their right mind studies like that? Not that Hades has ever thought the couple were in their right mind.

[moonshynecybin]

always thinking about that isekai’d into omegaverse you talked about in like 1.5 asks. marc WOULD very much enjoy heats after the initial shock + control freak suddenly can’t control things freakout… he loves to push his body to the absolute edge he would be trying to WIN. (and succeeding. wap too strong) crazy eyes locked in stare you normally only see on his bike

SO fun to think about especially as marc in this is not actually born into omegaverse and instead it has been thrust upon him. pun intended. like he gets sent to this universe and what is even the rosquez HISTORY there. is it a half broken bond situation. is it a regular heat hookup thats NEVER discussed. have they not had sex for yearsssss since sepang or argentina. have they never had sex EVER despite crazy chemistry because they are both subliminally aware that they would bond and they cant fucking do that because of vale's hangups. have they never had sex because EVIL dorna has FORBIDDEN IT between riders and neither of them knew how to deal so the relationship EXPLODED... its all a very rich playground of yaoi backstories to drop never been fucked normal ass marc marquez smack dab in the middle of for me !!!!

but yeah it’s like. in the middle of feeling off balance and insane and tethered to vale/body out of his hands in a way that somewhat makes his control freak ass self uneasy it’s also like. something INTENSELY physical that he sink into and let his instincts take him where they may. he loves that shit. pushing his body to its limit leaning into the base feeling clawing at his hindbrain and not inhibiting himself whatsoever AND vale is there all over him? like he’s GOOD at it and vale is over him and under him and inside him in a way he never thought would happen and it’s overwhelming and through the haze of scent and lust there’s this moment where for the first time in like ten years he can look at vale and know he’s here with marc and not have to THINK about the complex mess of hurt and ego that their relationship has become and he can just let himself get FUCKED. and yeah lol he loves it

[feed-me-sunlight]

I have some very angry opinions about the end of TNG S7E11 Parallels and I'm just gonna keep them bottled up. Apparently this situation just escalates and I am so not fucking here for it literally who asked for this why would you do this etc etc etc

[rochenn]

The Jedi Order mainly being an institution about teaching makes me sad that we never see more "Jedi classes" outside of the popular ones like martial arts, healthcare and Force wackery.

Alongside basic language and science education etc there have to be at least some trade and college courses on offer, right? The Jedi need a bunch of their own people with law degrees. Proper pedagogy studies for future crèchemasters. Cooks. Managers. All types of engineers. Electricians. Accountants. Researchers. How many Jedi hold a doctorate or professorate? Because I think a large number of them do. Their databanks are filled with millennia of dissertations. You can still find Yoda's articles from 500 years ago and cite them in your history research paper.

The Order just having its own micro-economy going on and every member getting their own regular job education next to all the lightsaber swinging adventures... pls

[unabletomakedecisions]

Just watched Black Friday by Starkid, and now I'm wondering which Fear this would be a manifestation of. (I think Extinction would probably be in there, but what else?)

Actually, what would *all* the starkid productions be?

Nerdy Prudes Must Die would have at least a bit of Hunt... The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals would have some Corruption...

[starjunkyard]

"Im not even sure anymore if we get to choose who our friends are" There is a part of me that resents you for making me a worse person than i want to be but i am inexplicably uncontrollably drawn to you. You make me a worse person which is the last thing i want yet i want you in every way. If i could leave i would. Maybe i can but i dont want to. I have fun with you. You challenge me and you captivate me and you push me and pull and run circles around me and it makes me feel like a younger man. For the price of being a worse person i get to feel truly, wholly alive. You are the blood that runs through my veins; vital, inseparable. I was reborn when i met you and you are the womb that haunts me. You are the one person on planet earth who knows me. I wish i could leave, move on and be the man im supposed to be but my heart is tied to yours in a gordian knot. There is a part of my soul that rests in yours, magnetic. For as long as i love you i cannot be better than i am. But maybe thats something i can learn to live with. Gregory House-- I think you're worth it.

[thejadecount]

This pride month made my brain get maxley rot

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[choctalksalot]

gotta ask bout jakehal just gotta ahdjjf

oooh oh you've stepped on the Words Button right there

boutta infodump the shit outta this one buckle up mothers and fuckers

love jakehal. top 10 ships that would obliterate dirk strider. concept of them makes me want to stick my head in a microwave. in a good way!! in canon, it's an Oh Man This Will Not End Well to me; jake spends a lot of the plot seeing hal as an annoyance, something dirk uses to blow people off, then as an emotional crutch, and like man that post you made about them? im not sure if i reblogged it yet but i screamed. because yeah. id go fucking apeshit too if i got treated like that. even if hal loves jake, it's kinda fucking hard to just forgive and forget 3 years of belittlement y'know. i think the worst part is he just might.

also a cup and a half of crack is mandatory. i cannot explain why. you cannot take them completely seriously. ever. it's part of what makes them work

if jake for some reason ever pursued hal, a lot of the time it hits me as being a bad attempt at coping. or a rebound situation, which is even worse because haha used like a tool. hah. they need Specific Circumstances to make them end in anything but a pile of burning scrap, the kind that forces them to confront their treatment of each other, and that's 1) hard 2) the first of many, many steps, for both of them. it's not a pretty sight. but it's one i love to see, in either direction [:

and then, turnabout jakehal. now that changes the fucking game.

i needed to make a bingo specifically for them because hoooh man turnabout jakehal. ho man. y'know there just something about being stuck on a ship for 3 years with the autoresponder of your best friend who you've recently been forced to acknowledge is a person that originated from said best friend, one that you may have been treating pretty shittily. and you can't run away from that. im aware im mostly focusing on jake's pov here but that's because i genuinely sobbed the last time i tried to think too hard about hal and im trying to stay coherent here

i keep a very specific scene of them in my head: sitting on top of the ship, looking at the infinite timelines whizzing by, and just. talking. about this. about hal being dirk's autoresponder. about whether jake just sees him as a shittier, less real version of dirk. about what hal's deal with jake is in the first place. i think about them. awkward kids working it out. they drive me nuts. i love this au, i love them :DD

[ponuchuu]

puppetgear just has the vibe of "two guys that were supposed to be in your love triangle but they're dating each other instead"

[no1ryomafan]

The urge to do a breakdown of arma and new ryoma specifically to try to understand why new ryoma is not at all acknowledged compared to arma despite new having far more screen time and being explored as a character then arma is so strong even though the answer boils down to two things: “art style preference” and “no one cares about ryoma as a actual nuance character” but both of those points makes me so mad💀

[jrueships]

fuck my stupudass baka life bro

[isys777]

Rooting for a ship that’s considered ‘small’ or ‘crack’ with characters that have very little interaction that suddenly in the later seasons go from scraps to full on meals is 1 seemingly my only personality trait and 2 honestly so fun.

Because there’s never really any indication that they're ever gonna be a thing but it’s like I see the chemistry and I see the potential and oh wait so do the writers??? Omg look at the scenes we’re getting! I just read a fanfiction that did something just like this and look it’s on my screen now!!

[ovviet]

make some noise is a 30-40mins show.

i didnt realise it's a 30-40mins show.

i thought it's a 15mins show and i keep rewatching the entire 3 seasons bcs hey, why the fuck is it so short i need more. how the fuck does it feel that short to the point that i need more???????