#for some reason that was the most wholesome interaction ever

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 720.5: Hayatani-san wants to observe

Pag 1

1: At Sohoku High School

It's lunch break!!

Three anpan!

Here, your change is 40 yen

Hurry up!!

2: There is a school store!!

Ohh, do you remember? Look, this store's.... that's right!! I'm Hayatani Yuuko (44)!!

They still have a special yaki!!

3: Yes

Yees

Here, your change is 100 yen

Amazing, she's so fast!!

Ah!! But in my heart I'm 24 years old!! Day after day I quickly hand bread to satsify the hungry students' stomaches!!

4: I keep a close eye both on the bread and the students' movements

The Thousand-armed Kannon Yuuko is kind to everyone!!

Boy, guve that bread to that girl, please

Thank you so much!

5: During lunch break the store is so chaotic, but

Alright, the melon bread is sold out!

Do you have the cocoa bread?

Pag 2

1: Other times are unexpectedly free

2: Between second and thrid period, when the sunlight hits just right, it feels so good

Ahh, I wonder what song is tha5

3: You seriously have never eaten daifuku at that store, Sugimoto-san!?

It's because I'm not close to it, my class is on the other side

4: I'll buy it this time, really!

You said this the other day too

Ah, the boy with orange hair from the bicycles team

At that time I get read for lunch break while watching the students

5: It's the boy who always comes to get a “special yaki life”

6: I always buy more!! But then I eat it before I give it to you!!

…. yeah yeah

7: The boy noext to him is in the bicycles team too, like Naruko-kun

Pag 3

1: Maybe he brings a lunch box? He never comes to buy bread, but he comes to buy stationery....

Do you have.... uhm, the sharp lead for a mechanical pen?

The 0.5mm B ones... next week the first years students have their first exams, so I want them to be prepared

2: He seemed like a polite and reliable guy

I wonder if he a third year already...

3: Right now, his back definitely looks like that of a senpai taking good care of his kouhai

Then let's go together this time, together

Yeah!!

So you can't eat it yourself on the way, right?

Yeah, Sugimoto-san you're a genius!

4: Yo

Ah, Imaizumi

Imaizumi-san

Listen, now with Sugimoto-san...

5: Do we put these components on the desk in the clubroom?

Yeah, thank you

6: Ah.... I know that boy too, he's so tall....

7: I'm sure....

Excuse me

Pag 4

1: May I ask? Do you have a clear A4 holder?

He's Sohoku's bicycles racing team captain, Imaizumi-kun!!

2: As expected, the aura of the two times national champion is on another level

Hayatani-san guessed it wrong

3: I have it, an holder for A4 documents

He has to callect the club's documents, since he's the captain

He's not the captain though

4: You're going this year too? To the nationl competition

6: You mean the Inter High?

That's right!!

Pag 5

1: We still have the qualifiers to do

So we can't say anything, but we plan to go – me, Naruko

2: and our captain Onoda!!

4: He.... people usually tend to think that he's strange and unreliable, and he himself said “maybe I should show a more dignified attitude to the first years”

But during practice his eyes are really different

Huh?

Huh!?

Huh!?

5: “Captain”?

But? Isn't that you!?

6: He himself doesn't realize it, and that's why everyone follows him

Pag 6

1: I think we're going, to the Inter High!!

Because it's like he's making “promises” with all sorts of guys!!

And he's the kind of guy who will do his everything to keep a promise

2: Onoda!!

Pag 7

1: No no, you mean you're Onoda-kun!?

Huh!? Imaizumi-kun!? No, I got it wrong, Onoda-kun is a boy wearing glasses!!

2: The boy that won two times in a row and  that Naruko-kun said it's the captain!!

3: Ehiii!

4: Imaizumi-kun

5: Ah, the first year with the pretty smile from the other day... no, he's a third year!

6: Ah, you know him?

I gave him bread when he needed it the other day

Imaizumi-kun, you know him too?

Yeah, he's....

Pag 8

1: Kya-!

Our capt-

2: Don't fall over for nothing

So-sorry, Imaizumi-kun

He gave him a hand right away, eh... he's so nice

4: Ehi! You really have lots of amazing friends!!

7: Yes!!

8: They announced a new season of Love Hime!

Ehh...

9: Ah... I failed to catch that boy's name once again

Hayatani-san was still looking forward to “meet” Onoda

[theemporium]

[2.4k] when pictures from a past relationship come to light, the whole world decide to weigh in what they think. but it's your boyfriend who is right by your side, knowing who you are and who he loves. it's you and him against a world of scrutiny, hate and jealousy.

based of this request!

.

You were honestly surprised you hadn’t chucked up the contents of your stomach in the toilet yet, though you suspected you were close to doing so soon. 

It was meant to be a normal day. It had started off as a normal day. By some grace of a superior being above, you had the Monday off and you had spent most of the morning just lazing around the flat. You tidied, you sorted out a food shop, you did the laundry you had been holding off on for the weekend. You sorted the place out a little in preparation for Lando coming home. 

You hadn’t been able to fly out and join him due to some projects you were working on for university. You decided it would be easier to stay home to finish them off, and Lando respected it even if he pouted incessantly before he left in hopes you would change your mind. 

He had messaged you that his flight would be landing later that afternoon, so when lunchtime came and you were fighting back a yawn, you saw no harm in a nap. You had been curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies and a thick blanket over your body, slowly blinking as you tried to focus on the documentary playing on the tv but it was a losing battle.

You didn’t even know what time it was when you woke up. All you knew was that you could hear your phone buzzing and pinging and it was hard to enjoy the warm comfort of sleep when you could have sworn the whole building could hear your phone. You blindly reached for it, your vision still bleary when you peaked them open and saw more notifications than you ever had in your life. 

Your heart stopped when you saw the notifications spread across all your social media platforms. 

But it dropped to your stomach when you saw the reason behind your trending name. 

It was a series of misconceptions, twisted lies and bitter words that were overwhelming your phone screen. Every tweet was worse than the last, every insult stung a little more, every stranger thinking they had a place to say or assume anything about you absolutely fucking sucked. 

And you get it. You were dating someone in the spotlight, it was stupid to assume you could stay in the shadows. You could handle being photographed in the paddock. You could handle fans wanting to follow you on social media. You could handle people tagging you in cute edits and wholesome posts. You could even handle the offhand hate you knew most people only posted due to jealousy. 

But this? This was something else. 

SLUT. WHORE. CHEATER. CLOUT CHASER. DISGUSTING.

The words were blurred and intertwined between photos that you recognised, photos that were indeed yours. They were photos from mere months before you met Lando, making them recent in the eyes of the public. They were photos that shouldn’t be posted for someone who’s happily in a relationship. 

Your vision welled with tears, your breathing became erratic and every part of you knew you should’ve just thrown your phone across the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop reading all the comments. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop putting yourself through that pain. 

You felt like your whole life was being thrown in your face.

Suddenly, all your female friendships and interactions were being analysed and scrutinised. They were pulling up pictures with friends from over the years, pointing out the ‘obvious’ signs that they should have noticed before. They were pulling up comments you had left on friends’ posts, claiming that you were blindly unfaithful to Lando for everyone to see.

Suddenly, your integrity to your relationship with Lando was being questioned. They didn’t see you as a fit match for the Brit. You didn’t fit the mould of a perfect WAG. You were an anomaly, you couldn’t be trusted, you weren’t good enough for him. 

Suddenly, every piece of your life was being torn up, criticised under a microscope and judged for the whole world to voice their opinions on.

Suddenly, you weren’t a human anymore. You were just an object for them to throw their insults, judgements and abuse at. They didn’t care for an explanation or a response or a story, they had made their minds and they seemed inclined to push that narrative to anybody who would listen. And that narrative only seemed to be solidified by the fact you had missed the most recent race weekend.

Everything blurred into a mess. 

You didn’t know at what point you slid off the couch and curled up on the floor, or when the sun started to set outside. You didn’t know when your thumb started to cramp from scrolling, or when the strain behind your eyes started to become more stabbing and irritating. You didn’t know what time it was, or even acknowledge the sound of the door lock turning.

“Babe?”

It was like a distant sound, like your head was underwater.

“Baby?”

And a part of you wanted to say something, to open your mouth but you couldn’t even bring yourself to utter a word.

“Hello?!” 

And then, like the fogginess had been lifted away, he was kneeling in front of you. He was in front of you, his expression hinting confusion and his brows furrowing in concern and his touch was so soft and gentle as he reached out towards you.

“I–” A choked noise left your lips, like the words got stuck in your throat and muddled together. But it was enough for Lando to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. And as much as your mind reeled at the idea, your body sunk into his embrace.

“Hey, hey, shhhh,” he cooed in a gentle voice as his arms tightened around her even more. “It’s okay. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

And it felt twisted, in a weird sick way. Here he was, comforting you and holding you and reassuring you. Here he was doing to you what you should be doing to him as you reassure him everything wasn’t what it seemed, that they don’t have the facts—that nobody believed the truth, that you would never cheat on him in a million years.

“It—” You took in a gasping breath, your lungs burning for some fresh air. “It—It’s not….it’s not true. I-I promise. Lando—”

He pulled back, the crease between his brows deepening slightly as he looked even more discombobulated than he did moments ago. “What? Baby, what are you on about?”

You froze, your body tensed in his arms as a wave of discomfort washed over you when you realised he had no idea. He hadn’t seen the pictures. He hadn’t seen the comments. He had no idea, and somehow, that made it even worse.

Scenes flashed before your eyes of him looking through them, of him seeing them for the first time. An image played in your head of his gentle comfort quickly turning into bitter anger. You imagined him pulling away, scoffing, tearing up. You imagined him believing them instead of hearing you out.

You imagined him saying the same bullshit the rest of the world was saying.

And deep down, you knew he never would. That’s not who he was, that’s not your Lando. But for a split second where fear clouded your judgement and your stomach twisted in discomfort, you imagined that maybe your boy was capable of the same hatred that tainted the world. 

“Baby?” You heard his voice gently calling out, dragging you back into the moment as coldness seeped into your body. The concern was back again, overwhelming and engulfing and something quite like guilt bubbled inside you about the whole thing for reasons you were unsure of. 

“I was in a relationship before I met you!”

The words were blurted out, a few beats of silence passing between you before Lando even seemed to react to the outburst. He nodded, his hands still holding onto you like he was keeping you together.

“Yeah,” he murmured, nodding his head. “I know, babe. I was in a relationship before I met you too.”

“No, I—” You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “A few months before we met, I…was seeing someone.” 

“Okay…baby, I’m not gonna lie to you, I don’t know where this is going or what this has to do with why you’re upset,” Lando admitted, something in his chest aching at the sight of your puffy, red eyes.

“Because,” you took a moment to pause, to bask in the few moments before you felt like your life was truly about to hit the fan. “Because she was a girl. I…I was with a girl before I met you. Well, she isn’t the only one I have dated, but she was the most recent one and some pictures got leaked and the world seems to think I just used you and—”

“Deep breaths, babe, deep breaths,” he said in a soft but commanding voice, watching the way your chest heaved with the staggered breaths. “Just like that f’me.”

“Lando,” you whispered, your whole body practically shaking from the overwhelming emotions inside you whilst he remained completely calm. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and this time it was your turn to be confused. 

“What?” You blinked a few times. “Why are you apologising?”

“Because being with me puts you in a spotlight you didn’t ask for. It makes people think they have some right to snoop around in your life and voice their opinions on it,” he confessed as his hands stroked down your arms before taking both your hands in his. “I’m sorry I have put you in that position. And I’m sorry they don’t value your privacy, I can understand how upsetting that is when you never asked for this kind of attention.” 

“I—” 

Yet, you cut yourself off for a short moment. His words weren’t completely false. It was a big change in your life from going as a nobody to a somebody for such a large group of people. It was weird having aspects of your life picked apart. It was weird that people felt they were so entitled to parts of your life. But out of everything you said, the fact he was holding onto that alone made you almost feel like you were going insane.

“And you’re…I just…” You shook your head, looking down at your joined hands where Lando’s thumbs were tracing random circles on your palms. “And me being with a woman is okay?”

Lando frowned a little. “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

And it was such a simple question. 

Because he was right. Why should it be such a problem? Why shouldn’t it be okay? Why should you having previously been with a woman be such a scandal or detail to latch onto?

And maybe it was the years of feeling like you needed to hide who you truly were. Or maybe it was the shifts in behaviour whenever you did open up about your sexuality to someone. Or maybe it was all the times it was held over your head that made you feel like you had to keep it a secret, that you had to hide the truth, that you had to make sure the least amount of people in the world knew that you were attracted to men and women because of the countless people who made you feel utterly shit in every being secure in that fact alone. 

Maybe it was the realisation that there were people out there—people like your Lando—who would accept you without any questions asked because whilst your sexuality is a part of you, it’s not your whole identity.

“I don’t know,” you breathed out, a shake in your voice as the overwhelming urge to cry once again washed over you. “People just said—”

In seconds, Lando pulled his hands away from your grip and raised them to hold your face, the touch gentle but comforting as his thumb swiped away the few stray tears that ran down your cheeks. He gave you a soft smile, and something about it seemed to ease some of the tightness in your chest. 

“People are gonna say a lot of things, that is an unfortunate reality I have come to learn over the years. But, the only people’s opinions who should matter to you are those of the people you love and the ones who know you,” he spoke, everything about his presence so soothing in contrast to how you were before he arrived. “I know you, baby. And I know what kind of person you are and how amazing you are. And I know that people can say what they fucking want about you, but I know the truth.”

You let out a small, breathless laugh.

“I’m sorry they made you feel like something was wrong with you,” he continued, a small frown on his face as he uttered the words. “Baby, it’s a part of who you are. And I love every part of you. And if you like men and women, then so be it. I am just grateful that I am one of the people you have decided to love,” he confessed to you, something like a cheesy grin on his face when he said it. “I am one of the luckiest fucking guys about because of it.”

“I love you,” you murmured, your eyes falling shut as he rested his forehead against yours, 

“I love you too, baby,” he murmured back, his nose brushing against your affectionately until he saw your lips twitch upwards. And just when the silence had passed for a few moments, he spoke up again. “Plus, I haven’t seen the photos but I am pretty confident in saying that I am probably way hotter than your ex—”

You snorted, the noise loud and unbashful but it made your boyfriend grin at you as you tried to stop yourself from grinning.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled, laughing as you shook your head.

“Yeah, but I’m right,” he replied with a cheeky smile, so boyish and so Lando.

“You’re much hotter,” you reassured him, even if you rolled your eyes a bit.

“Knew it,” Lando grinned as he leaned down to kiss you, finally happy to give in to the one thing he had been craving to do since he left over a week ago, with social media and the world a distant thought in both of your heads for the time being. 

Lando knew you and loved you, and that was all that mattered.

.

[kayjayjwrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a couple years into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over two years of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over him.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remains.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

[nonbinarypirat]

physical affection and how it relates to iruma: part 1, parental touch

iruma reads as someone who is touch starved and doesn't like/understand touch until he now has affectionate people in his life. His parents have probably never touched him besides the required amount when he was a baby and maybe a headpat or quick hug (which would more than likely just be a manipulation tactic to get him to do their crazy schemes). They left him alone for days on end, there's no way they even could have been affectionate with him. And it's not like he ever went to school, his "friends" at school couldn't even remember him because of how many days he missed.

Overall, Iruma reads as touch starved but doesn't know he's missing it since he never had it to begin with. Here comes the love trio, the misfit class, Balam and more. Suddenly he has a lot of people in his life who are comfortable with touching him, even want to as a sign of how close they are. And we can see iruma very much becomes happy with it in turn.

That's why Balam and iruma's relationship is important, a parental type person he trusts is actively choosing to be affectionate with him, not to manipulate him but just because he cares about iruma. He even told him the reason is just to bond and get to know iruma, not some sort of underhanded method. This is just Balam's way of connecting. And they are close to each other enough to be comfortable in each other's spaces. Whether Iruma reads balam as a parent or not, balam is very much like a momma bird, keeping him close and safe in his arms. And Iruma becomes more open to it as time goes on with them knowing more about the other.

This is also a great dynamic because balam gives him the affection that he doesn't recieve from kalego, someone he clearly holds in high regard. Almost every time iruma reflects on the people that matter the most to him, kalego is there. which i find fascinating because what is kalego to iruma? on a subconscious level, i think he views kalego as a parental figure to him as well, one of the first to give him clear and concise rules to follow. his parents were just a fucking mess, they barely parented. never really taught him life lessons besides "just say yes" and "run." Kalego clearly cares a lot while also helping iruma navigate the netherworld making it easy for him to project a father role onto kalego

But kalego isn't an affectionate man from what we have seen. And even if he was, he is his instructor first and foremost so he may not feel comfortable being so with iruma (and also imagine the fucking annoying comments about favoritism from the other misfits LOL). Any touching has been fairly limited to him picking up Iruma like during the teacher dorm visits and Kalego's final hours as a familiar. Which honestly make these few scenes even more precious. Because he is actively choosing to be like this with Iruma. Affection does not come easy to Kalego like it does Balam. More than likely because of his upbringing and family beliefs (always needing to remain vigilant, dignified) and him as a person. So while he doesn't touch Iruma often, his one on one moments with him are extremely personal and parental in nature. And when he does interact with Iruma physically, the rarity adds to the specialness.

And then there's Opera. Opera has been especially more affectionate in the latest volumes with hand holding and hugs and all sort of touching. Which is very wholesome to see because Opera wasn't a character that had much of a strong relationship with Iruma at the beginning besides guarding him. I always got the impression that Opera didn't know how to feel about him, not to say they wouldn't protect him with everything they have. But the feelings and affection started up after the battler/batra Party when Iruma grabbed both Sullivan and Opera (though the care for him had been growing steadily before that). I have seen two main headcannons for their relationship, some see it more as a big sibling relationship while others see it as a parental one as well. For the sake of this post, I will be using it as a parent and child one.

Opera has been right there with Sullivan watching Iruma grow more and more confident as time goes on. And through Iruma growing up, we see how proud of him Opera is. From a scared child to a more bold child, Opera has helped cultivate this in him. I also love that whenever Sullivan isn't around, Opera takes over for taking care of him, allowing the two to have solo family time. Obviously their relationship is more of a weird dynamic seeing as how Opera is a security devil, but that doesn't stop the story from developing their relationship. The physical affection for the two is started from both sides, Iruma hugging Opera or Opera holding out their hand to hold as they walk home. In this case, their relationship is the most parent like as the story progresses.

And finally, we have Sullivan who is the most affectionate of the four. Come on, you can't beat grandpa when it comes to love and devotion to Iruma. He is the first one to introduce Iruma to physical affection in the first place. Now granted, in a slightly overbearing way at first because Iruma is not used to this and Sullivan is too happy to have a grandson. But now, we can see the genuineness behind each of his interactions with Iruma. He very much acts like a doting grandfather, and he really does love him too. Touching clearly comes more naturally to him so it's his way of showing Iruma love which opened the doors for more people in Iruma's life to show this too. When Iruma first started touching Sullivan back at the battler/batra party, it highlighted that Iruma is now more comfortable with Sullivan to do so back. He has been taught by Sullivan this way of caring and cares about him in the same way too. There's a lot of mutual love.

They have come a long way as a family unit. Sure, grandpa has always been Iruma's number one supporter, but at the beginning of the story it felt way too over the top? As the audience we were right there besides Iruma in feeling overwhelmed by Sullivan. This far into the story though, the emotional trust they have in each other is beautiful. They are no longer just two individuals thrown together by fate, they are two people who care about the other and their weird little family. And its even more wonderous when we think about Sullivan's past, having lost someone deeply close to him and has no way of knowing if he'll ever return (aka Delkira). From what we know, it seemed that Sullivan truly loved him like a son/grandson/family member and loosing him is still something he's grappling over. And yet, he was still able to create this, push through his pain to make a family with Iruma. He's not a replacement for what he lost, but somone he allows himself to care about in a similar way in the past. By pushing through the trauma, he has been able to give Iruma what he never had in his past life.

I see both Balam, Kalego, and Opera as parents who provide him with different styles of parenting (with grandpa also providing that but also being a "ill give you anything you want" guardian hehe). Through this, he can learn varied viewpoints and, more importantly to this post, the affection he never had as a child. Does it make up for never having grown up with it? No, it never could. But it's not about making up for what it lost, rather its about making new connections and love with what you have now. And displaying that love in small and bigger ways with touch.

[nomnomnoona]

ATEEZ: The Morning After (aka Round 2 from the night before) MAKNAE LINE

Adult OT8 imagine drabbles. Minors, please do not interact. Read the Hyung Line here.

San had planned this weekend for a good month and a half.

It was your last week before your master's abroad and San had moved mountains to match your schedule so you two could spend some time together before you'd be gone for two months.

Sure, you'd come back for the break after two months, but that was the longest you'd be apart since you two began dating.

It was just supposed to be a slow weekend in. Takeout, a b-movie marathon, breakfast in bed, taking a walk in pajamas--wholesome.

Wholesome, lazy things.

Manageable, right?

San knew you wanted to wait and he didn't question it once. He didn't even flinch when you brought it up halfway through a make-out session that set up a proper tent in his pants. In the midst of that, the man managed so nod, smile, and pull you into the most gentle hug until you fell asleep.

He knew you weren't ready, but as your boyfriend, he was, of course, hoping. And though it took all his willpower and then some, he was willing to wait as long as it took for you to be ready.

It was that moment San came over to help you cook and eat everything left over in your fridge so you could prepare to leave, that it hit you.

He was leaning over the counter cutting up mushrooms for the most imaginative soup of leftovers when you crept up behind him and slipped a hand under his shirt. He didn't flinch. He just smiled, until your hands snaked their way up his chest. That's when you felt him flinch.

You had been avoiding sexual contact with San for the last three months since you told him you weren't ready. It was almost second nature that you two were like an old, married couple. So much so, you had started to convince yourself that San was no longer sexually attracted to you.

Silly, you thought to yourself. This was something you brought about. San was just holding up his end of the deal. He was doing what you had asked him to do.

At some point, it messed with you. And that mixed into the panic of you going somewhere unfamiliar, so far from what was familiar. Then all that just piled up into a heap of bullshit that you thought, fuck it, today, you were going to fuck San sideways.

So it was in that moment that he flinched when you grazed his nipple, that you knew, this was going to be worth a few more toe dips into the water before you jumped right in.

San lay the knife down as you heard his sharp intake of breath. He set it aside and chuckled, trying to play it off. You pulled back and he released a sigh of relief until you stuck a finger between the garter of his black sweatpants and his sex cut.

"Uhm," his weak objection was nothing short of hoarse.

"I'm not trying to make this hard," you said.

San took a deep breath, "I'm finding that hard to believe," then your hand just outright landed on his already prominent boner.

"This one though," you giggled, "Mission accomplished."

"I need to hear you say you want me to fuck you or I'll just walk--"

"I want you to fu--"

You woke up stiff. Your entire body aching in the best possible way as you tried to stretch, eyes fluttering open to find San approaching you with a tray, clearly surprised you had woken up before he had completed his set up.

San put the tray down and crawled over to your side, pulling you into his arms as his little spoon. For some reason, there was a bit of remorse in the hug. You pushed back ever so slightly to tilt back and look him in the eye, finding his brows furrowed.

"Did you not enjoy last--"

He pulled you in again for a hug, his facing burying itself in your hair, "I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you? You said you weren't ready and then I do this to you before you leave for two--"

You quickly move to press your lips against his. In that moment you felt a tear of his fall onto the bridge of your nose.

You pull back, "I was ready, San."

"You promise?"

"As much as I promise to see you again in eight weeks."

.

You had woken up to a stabbing headache at 1am, inside a hotel room whose details in the furnishings brought back very distinct sensations you experienced while looking right at it as one very inebriated Song Mingi went to town on you.

You blushed every shade on the complete color spectrum when Mingi's stirring figure found its way into consciousness. Mingi sat up, spotted you and looked like he wanted to die.

You were best friends since you were children. You had gotten drunk in each others' presence since you both learned how to sneak out your brothers' ID to buy alcohol. All those years and this never happened. You never even thought of sleeping together until now.

"Is this supposed to mean something?" you asked, digging the pads of your thumbs into your temple, trying to massage the pain out.

Mingi buried his face in his hands, "I have no idea," his reply was muffled.

The silence was awkward as you both struggled to say something. No amount of small talk or a change in topic would pull you out of this. The only way was to discuss it or ignore it completely.

"But it was good," you both blinked. You had said it at the exact same time, not a single syllable was off.

Your synchronicity of thought and speech was no surprise to either of you since it always happened. It was normal that you were both so in-sync.

But what probably got you both is that you both enjoyed it.

True to your routine synchronicity, you both burst out into tear-filled laughter. It was quite the relief that this fit of laughter felt almost hopeful; as if confirming that sleeping together wouldn't ruin your almost lifelong friendship so far.

You both retained the same sense of humor and dynamic right after sex with the person you've known forever. Nothing felt more perfect.

Although this was no real indication if fucking your best friend wouldn't have long-term effects on your relationship with each other, it brought you some comfort nonetheless. At least this was something you could enjoy as it is.

Both your laughter eventually faded and you just moved over to the couch with your phone in hand. You took a seat and began to scroll, your headache was getting worse, but you didn't want to go back to sleep.

Mingi called out your name, "Head hurts?"

You nodded, releasing a grunt and deciding to just lay on the couch sprawled open, "Like hell," you replied.

"You know," he stood, walking over to you. His face-scrunching laughter from a minute ago left no traces. He looked serious, almost deadly. Your heart raced. He all but crawled to you the moment his leg touched the couch.

He set one knee between your legs, dangerously close to your crotch as he bent down to place a hand on either side of your head. Mingi was so close that you could hear his shallow, but rapid breathing, "I read somewhere that sex cures headaches."

.

Wooyoung was never one to carry baggage for very long. He was an in-and-out type of guy who, no matter how much something bothered him, he found a workaround. He never ran out of ways to access a part of him that was free from whatever hurt or enraged him. He's always been the reliable one.

But there was one night that you came home to the apartment you both shared and he immediately saw how tightly your fist was clenched. You tossed your car keys so hard it slid right out of the dining table and hit the wall. You jaw was tight, eyes sharp, and though he knew that you were aware of his presence, you were fighting the urge to look him in the eye. He has never seen you so angry.

He slouched back in the couch and watched you take on your daily routine. You left your shoes at the door, washed your hands in the kitchen sink, and reached into the pantry for a pack of instant ramen. The induction stove wasn't cooperating and though he could only see your back, Wooyoung could tell you had your last straw.

You walked out of the kitchen and he took that as his queue. He took the stove out, noting mentally to buy a new one finally, and grabbed a kettle to heat water.

Almost ten minutes later, you came out with your phone to your nose, scrolling intently through the takeout options. The smell of ramen and cheese tteokbokki pulled you out of your trance.

Wooyoung was sitting with a stupidly large grin on his face almost as if he was thinking "I did good? Are you better?"

Quietly, you took a seat across him and you both had dinner in silence.

The gesture filled you up, but not in the way food did. It filled you up in the way remembering you had the best friend in the world did. Articulating how you feel and asking for help is hard. It's exhausting and sometimes being an adult just isn't in the cards on days like this.

So to have someone like Wooyoung who was so receptive and sensitive, it helped you remember it's just a shitty day, not a shitty life.

Wooyoung was seated on the edge of his bed, eye glasses on, deeply engaged in his favorite past-time--watching foreign shows without captions or dubs and trying to guess the context.

For someone who looked like a genius, this sure did raise a few concerns.

"Hey!" his greeting was warm as he pat the space next to him.

"Are you going to turn the subtitles on at least?" you asked.

"Would you clean one ear and ignore the other?"

You knew so much about him but understood so little.

But instead of breaking your head over his WooWoo philosophy, you decided to do what you had come in for. You reached over and went for a big hug. You weren't too fond of them, but you knew he liked it and you figured this was a good way to let him know you appreciated him today.

"Hey," he cooed, warmly accepting your hug and turning to ensure you got as much of him as he could. His hand reached up to your head and stroked the back. You didn't plan for the hug to be so long, but something about it was so comfortable. It's like you fit into him perfectly. You felt so at home.

Next thing you knew, he was planting butterfly kisses on your temple, your eyelids, and then your lips. He didn't let the kiss last too long as he gently pulled back, "I'm really sorry," his breath was raspy.

"I--," he gulped. "I know you don't--I've been wanting to--I've been wanting you, but--never thought you would--," he took a deep breath and it looked like it almost hurt him to pull away, so you didn't let him.

You pulled him back into the kiss and set him down to lay on his back as you straddled him.

It would have been the morning after if it wasn't 2pm in the afternoon when you woke up Wooyoung scared the living shit out of you. He was lying on his smile, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face, "Morneeee," he almost squeaked.

"Is this how you are after sex?"

"No," he shook his head. "But it was with you, so I'm a little stoked."

His smile softened into something much less 'kid in the candy store' to one that was gentle and almost dreamy.

"Are you thinking about going again? Because I'm kinda beat," you admitted. "Maybe later tonight again."

Without missing a beat, he said, "I wanna take you on a date."

.

Here's the thing about Choi Jongho. It's very easy to forget he's younger than you are.

While everyone at the theater had personalities that fit the stage, this Choi Jongho with lungs of steel and monumental stage presence was quiet as a mouse whenever he wasn't rehearsing.

However, you were lucky enough to know another side of him.

As the production manager of this new musical, it was your job to ensure everyone was doing their job. So one day, when a very full day kicked you in the ass, you dozed off somewhere backstage on the couch set piece.

You felt a nudge and then a poke, stirring you aware as you reached for your phone to check the time.

You jolted up when your phone flashed "10:04pm".

You immediately recognized the presence next to you. Jongho was standing over you with his script and a pencil, which you assumed was what he used as the poking device.

"Your snoring was disrupting my internal timing," he deadpanned.

"Wait," you fixed your hair and looked around for your belongings. "What are you even doing here at 10pm, Jongho?"

"There are less people to cushion the acoustics," again, absolutely deadpan. Without any more context, he walked back to the stage and set his script and pencil down, resuming his own private rehearsal.

A solid hour later, you were seated on an empty hard case, waiting for Jongho to finish so you could lock up. As if on queue, he turned the corner, "Why are you still here?" he asked.

"I need to lock up," you said as you hopped off.

He lifted his own set of theater keys.

"Why do you have those?"

"Why not?" Jongho pushed the door open, gesturing for you to step out first. You were about to move when you caught his smirk.

"Wait, so how long have you had your own keys?"

He was now smiling, "Long enough to know you like the storage closet on the right-most part of the backstage area."

You felt your blood drain from your face. That storage closet was the inside joke of the company. Every time someone passed by it after rehearsals, someone was sure to be fucking inside. Having been in this company at least three years, you had your fair share of closet sex already with an actor or two.

"And," Jongho continued, "Long enough to know it looks like it's worth a try if I stayed after rehearsals and ran into you dozing off again on the set pieces."

Probably the biggest perk about deciding not to lock up just yet and drag Jongho into the closet, was that you got to find out first-hand exactly where that big voice of his came from. You also learned that as much as you loved the sound of him singing, you had a much deeper appreciation of his moans.

Soon, you both stepped out, straightening your clothes out when he blurted out, "I'm surprised no one thought of using the old tech booth in the second floor. It's sound proof."

He looked you in the eyes and smirked.

"Are you planning to perform an entire Aria next time we rehearse late?"

He shook his head, unaffected by what you were trying to imply, "No, but after I'm done with you, we might actually get a noise complaint. I'm just looking out for us."

.

Thanks for reading :)

[kiame-sama]

Little Spider, Fun and Games- (Yan!Chrollo x Reader)

Warnings; fem reader, yandere, yandere behavior, yandere relationship, blood, murder, causal slaughter, mention of kidnapping, chronic illness (narcolepsy), troupe opinions, fluff with murderers, a bit of domestic cuteness, nsfw, somnophilia, rando insults reader, unnamed character death,

By selecting read more you consent to view the content included and affirm you are of age to view content.

If you are a minor, go the hell away. This fic is not for you.

~~~~~~~~

You shivered slightly as another howl of wind whistled through the building, metal struts groaning from the force. A sudden warmth wrapped around you and you glanced over to see Chrollo had placed his coat over your shoulders. Truly, you hadn't even been aware that he was keeping tabs on you, but it didn't surprise you to find out either.

Chrollo was always ensuring your needs were met and quickly taken care of regardless of the situation you two may be in. Luckily the current situation you were in was a familiar one, hiding out in some abandoned building until whatever heist Chrollo has planned goes into motion.

"You seem cold, Little Spider."

"Yeah, I am kinda cold. We don't usually go anywhere like this for a heist..."

"How about I warm you up?"

"Chrollo, not here..!"

"I meant by using my nen, dear. What were you thinking?"

You felt the flustered feeling in your chest as you tried to avoid eye-contact with him, knowing he was thrilled to be teasing you. He had been suggestive for a reason, and you walked directly into his trap. There was little more that amused Chrollo beyond seeing you get so adorably flustered by his absolute lack of shame and open flirting.

"Ugh," the scoff that came from Feitan surprised you as the troupe didn't often comment on the relationship you had with their beloved boss, "too damn cute, stop."

You were almost hurt by the callous words before you realized that he meant your interactions were quite cute. The two of you were being painfully sweet with your domestic behavior and casual flirting. Everyone in the Troupe found the relationship you had with Chrollo to be extremely wholesome regardless of his less than wholesome personality.

It was obvious- even to you- how much Chrollo favored you over anyone else.

~~~~~~~~

Waking up was usually very difficult for you, even on a good day. From the alluring pull of sleep to the rather comfortable feeling of a bed, everything worked against you. Even your lover was just another contributing factor to your constant desire to sleep.

Chrollo contributed to your need for sleep in plenty of ways, but the most prominent being his rather unusual appetite for intimacy with you. It did give you a twinge of pride to know that he was so addicted to you that he sought out intimate behavior and actions whenever he could. But Chrollo had more energy than you did and it was rare that the man ever actually slept.

As if to balance the difference in sleeping habits and physical needs, Chrollo had developed quite the kink for Somnophilia. So on the evenings where you dozed off early or spend an extended time sleeping, you fully anticipated him to help himself to your sleeping form. This is why you were not particularly surprised to wake face-down with your hips propped up and a distinctly familiar voice moaning.

A loud moan from you let him know you woke up, feeling an intense pulse of pleasure from being caught. Though you were quite alright with his somnophilic behavior, he still felt a certain thrill if you ever woke up while he was on top of you. The act of being caught doing perverse things with your sleeping body was just the thing his narcissism needed when it came to his perception of his hold over you.

Chrollo continued pounding into you frantically, feeling your walls tighten around him and coax him closer to his orgasm. Your moans were punctuated by each thrust, somewhat muffled as you gripped tightly to the bed beneath you. It didn't take long for the feeling to overtake you as you were practically thrown into your climax, feeling your walls trying to clamp down on his pounding cock. He was quick to follow and let out a groan of satisfaction, thrusting a few more times just to squeeze out every last bit of cum.

As the afterglow of your orgasm faded away, you felt Chrollo lay his body over yours and gently kiss your neck. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pressed as physically close to you as possible. You could feel the way your heart seemed frantic in comparison to his heartbeat which rolled in a steady rhythm in his chest.

"It seems you've caught me red-handed, Little Spider."

Chrollo could only chuckle as you failed to respond, still catching your breath and trying to adjust to being awake. No matter how many times he got to see you fall to pieces in his hands, he would always feel such a thrill just being with you. Years without significant amounts of emotion left him drowning in a cocktail of dopamine and serotonin that he was almost dangerously addicted to.

"It's not often I get caught, what ever should I do to convince you to keep this between us, hm?"

"How about another round?"

"Darling, I thought you'd never ask."

~~~~~~~~

"I'm here to make a deal with the leader of the Phantom Troupe, not some dumb slut."

The words echoed in your mind as the arrogant man sneered at you, clearly having a rather negative opinion of you and your presence. Though his words shouldn't have bothered you, they actually managed to sting more than a little bit.

There was a long moment of silence as you turned away, not wanting to look at the man who so gleefully insulted you. Naturally, the Spiders- that had been rather bored and relaxed when the man approached- were all furiously glaring at the man now. The Spiders cared about you just as they cared about Chrollo and the man insulting you easily set them all off.

"There are two leaders of the Phantom Troupe. Myself and Little Spider. What deal do you think you could make with us when you so blatantly disrespect one of the leaders of the Troupe?"

The man seemed confused before he glanced at you again, the weight of his folly suddenly smacking him in the face as he realized what he just did. He seemed to now take note of the many eyes glaring at him venomously despite how slight the offense may have seemed at first glance. The only thing that could save him was your forgiveness, and with how you refused to look at him, he was unlikely to recieve such a blessing.

"Wait, but I- hey!"

He struggled against the crushing grip of both Machi and Feitan as they forced him into a kneeling position, his arms twisted and being slowly crushed. Despite his clear discomfort and upset tone, you still refused to look at him or at any of the Troupe. Chrollo took this as a sign that you would not forgive the transgression and acted accordingly.

All the man could do was let out a choked sound as his arms were suddenly removed, a ballpoint pen sticking out of his forehead. He collapsed forward into the dirt floor and silence once again returned to the Troupe. You refused to look back before Chrollo wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Are you okay, Little Spider?"

"I guess."

"Don't worry about what that fool said, you are much more than that to me. And if anyone else tries to insult you, I'll kill them."

[mrsackermannx]

˚ ༘ *ೃ༄ ❝ COME BACK TO ME…❞

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: gojo’s been plotting to get you back ever since you broke up.

୨୧ word count: 4.7k

୨୧ content: gojo satoru/reader, smut, no-curses au/office au, infidelity, exes to lovers, afab reader, light angst (strategic marriage/ breakup mentions), praise kink, porn with plot, love confession, overstimulation, pet names (baby, sweetheart etc), creampie, pussy-slapping, squirting, sprinkle of degradation, slight exhibitionism.

୨୧ author’s note: gojo brainrot finally gave way to some writing hehe, still getting used to characterising him so feedback is appreciated angels <3

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

"Don't shit where you eat," they say. They say that dating your colleague is never going to end well. However, even the most stoic people have a penchant for such relationships, not to mention the secret hopeless romantics. 

Workplace romances can make even affairs appear heartwarmingly wholesome. After all, there was something about trudging up stair after stair when the elevator was too full to them smiling at you just a desk away. Their voice fond as they offer you a sunny "Good morning."

That person who never forgets your favourite vending machine coffee, who pats your shoulder and tells you 'you're doing your best,' who lends you their umbrella, who opens up to you over a beer after overtime. Who notices when you get a haircut, whose eyes are seldom on their computer screen but on your lips. 

Not that you'd ever been unfaithful, not yet. But you'd heard countless stories. Girls talk, after all. You didn't judge, yet the point was although workplace romances could be wholesome and even sexually thrilling. They were sensational and exciting until they were over. 

Until that person no longer stays with you through overtime, bitter memories of you chugging vending machine coffee, swapping candy and chips together and then spit just like you and Gojo always did. You definitely never told anyone how many times you fucked on the desks of the colleagues you both thought sucked, especially not after you'd broken up.

You were together for a while, and although you couldn't say it out loud because it was still too painful, you missed him. A lot. In fact, you spent most nights, fist screwed up at your sides, eyes blurring in the darkness, questioning if there would always be that void he left that no one could ever fill.

Though, breaking up didn't cause the type of animosity that made people scurry from rooms when you interacted. Instead, it confused the hell out of your colleagues. It hadn't even been half a year since, and you and Gojo didn't appear to hate each other at all.

But the pain lingering in your heart ached and was annoying and inconvenient, like a stubbed toe that felt sore and tender for weeks and weeks—but in your case, months. However, Gojo was hardly being subtle with his efforts to ever so secretly win you back at every opportunity. He didn't mind playing the long game. He was going to be your last. 

All of you at the company came from important families in high social circles, marriage and dating. Love. It often came down to strategy, which was the only reason you were dating Miyano Haru, a Kyoto University graduate! CEO of a cybersecurity company! 

Guilt gripped at your gut as you yawned at the thought. 

Your families were shooting for a marriage ceremony during next year's cherry blossom season. But until then, Gojo wasn't slamming the brakes anytime soon. 

Whether that be surprising you with your favourite lunches, leaving tickets for movie screenings, galleries, or museums on your desk, or sending Google calendar invites to restaurant reservations or spa appointments via your work emails across the office floor. With sweet messages like,

Gojo Satoru has sent a "Spa day pamper package for two for this Friday.”

Surprise! You look tired this week baby. Let's go here Friday, yeah? 

Ps: You still look pretty, though. 

Just like you were still fucking dating. 

So today, when you're pitching a marketing idea in the monthly meeting, and Yaga cuts you off. Gojo cannot help himself. 

Yaga was a great man, someone Gojo was grateful to for many reasons, but fuck was this man old-fashioned and unaware of it. He refused to see your potential because he was eternally sceptical of the efficacy of women's ideas.

But you had the best ideas today. Gojo smiled because your ideas were always the best and that’s why this decision was so easy. He could fondly recall your rants about Yaga after every monthly meeting where you'd complain about his blatant misogyny; even Sukuna would let a reluctant chuckle loose to the show. 

All of you in the canteen at your table, Shoko, Utahime, Nobara and Maki at your side, growing passionate about gender pay gaps and audacious men at your company and then the world over. 

Nanami always said the right thing, and so did Higuruma, Yuuta and Choso. Gojo decidedly took the credit for Megumi being so eloquent and respectful. Inumaki was outrageous at times, and Yuuji was a lover of all people and argued fiercely for both sides. 

Those times were always fun. 

Yaga peered over his glasses, "Why don't you expand again on how you plan to execute this idea, Reader?” 

With one hand typing idly at his laptop and the other seating his chin, Gojo sighed so loudly all the eyes in the room cast to him. "Reader obviously has the best pitch for this project." 

He grinned as Yaga's knuckles grew white and he humphed before his voice sharpened, "So, are we really gonna make her explain it again?"

"For once, even I agree with him," Toji added.

Gojo winked as he looked up at you, and you felt yourself melt a little, even under the icy breeze of the conference room's AC. 

Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara huddled together under the oppressive communication Gojo and Yaga's eyes were engaging in. 

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, "So, what are you waiting for? Give her the project."

Nanami offered you a small smile and nodded before his expression soured, and he spoke before Yaga could open his mouth to protest. "I, for once, also agree with Gojo. I think we should open this pitch up for a vote?" 

Choso raised his arm, "Me too. I think it's just what we need, in fact." 

Maki nudged Yuuta and Inumaki before confidently booming, "I volunteer our assistance on the project!"

Albeit a little flustered, you bowed and thanked the room as Yaga reluctantly signed the dream project of the company to you. Sure, you were ecstatic you'd finally been recognised for your hard work and dedication, but you wanted to kill Gojo.

What didn't help was the aggressively obvious effect he had on you still. Sure, you had a new boyfriend, but Gojo didn't care. So that's why you found yourself lingering outside of his office door at 9pm because you knew he wouldn't care one bit. Like that man ever did overtime, you tsked. 

Gojo had been playing a game with you, knowing you'd finally relent, that you'd come to your senses and stop denying yourself of what you really fucking wanted. "Be selfish."

Everybody you'd asked today had told you he'd stayed in his office all day. So yeah, he really was doing this on purpose. His light was on, and he was baiting you, and you hated how easy it was for you to take it.

You knew he wanted you to barge in there, all flustered and mouthy, so he could shove you to your knees and fuck your throat open. 

Your boyfriend Miyano was sweet, he could talk about his feelings, and he didn't run away from emotional intimacy like others had. Like Gojo always had. But your family had set you up with him even though your shattered heart was still just that. Shattered. Your heart had been reduced to fragments— to a puzzle that only one genius could solve, he wasn’t prepared to give anybody guidance in the matter either. After all, geniuses couldn’t explain how to do the things they found easy. 

And although you were the one that ended things with Gojo, it hurt all the same. 

There was nothing wrong with Miyano per se. He came from a respectable family, one your family could bear you marrying into; though the Gojo clan would have been amazing, the Miyano clan wasn't terrible either. 

But you never wanted your family to arrange a relationship or marriage for you. You fell for Gojo instantly and hard. You loved him like you never loved anybody else. He thrilled you, challenged you, and made it seem like the world was too small for you both and that you could see it all when you stood at his side. He made everything and every day exciting but had the vexing ability to make you feel safe and at home all the same.

Gojo Satoru was irreplaceable in every facet of the word, in his work, friendships, and relationships. As fickle as he could appear, he was the first to call in a crisis and someone you could wholeheartedly depend on.

But Miyano was sweet and emotionally forthcoming but…entirely too normal. You didn't yearn to peel back his layers one by one and didn't care much for his childhood stories, unpopular opinions, or core principles. But you treasured the few times you’d sat with Gojo, pestering him to tell you anything deeper, anything that no one else knew. Watching with sparkling eyes as his voice grew so quiet you had to follow his lips until your eyes blurred instead. 

But it was rare he shared anything too personal with you. He had trouble with it more than most. Some nights, although you were sleeping in the same bed, you felt miles apart. 

Gojo had a wall with everybody else, like a layer of infinity that meant nobody could really touch him or delve deeper. They only saw and knew the surface that reflected back to them like a mirror. No one could truly ever get close. 

But it wasn't supposed to be the case for you, was it?

A fond and familiar laugh yanked you from your reverie, "Did you come to thank me? Because you can thank me by going to dinner with me tomorrow."

How was he larger than the door frame? You all but scowled as he leant down and tapped his cheek. "I also accept kisses as a form of repayment if you're willing," he said silkily, a jaunty grin on his lips at your expression. “With interest.” 

Your shoulders slumped, and you huffed, wilfully ignoring the growing heat ping-ponging between your bodies. "Why did you do it?" Your brows knotted, "I wanted to get it on my own, Satoru. And my pitch was strong enough. I didn't need your help."

He threw his hands up and yawned obnoxiously, smoothing the back of his hair down, "Well, what can I say? I'm a doer, not a talker."

You huffed, “No, I'm sure you're always talking."

"You got me there, but" he checked either side of the corridor before he looped his arm around your waist and yanked you into his office. “Game over.” 

"Satoru, I-" Your voice fell into a whimper as he flipped you against his door, his lips ghosting your earlobe as he caged you in. 

"Maybe it's because I know you like to hear my voice," he whispered. "I know you like being talked through it. And, I know you didn’t need my help, we just needed a little push.” 

We needed a final straw. 

You swallowed, fists clenched at your sides as his body suffocated yours. Heat quickly crawled up your cheeks as his large hands slid slowly down your sides, the familiar smell of his cologne igniting memories from the last times you smelt it so closely. Kissing down his throat, across his collarbones-

"What are you doing?" You finally mustered, your voice a breathless squeak. Seconds passed, and the tension blazed and kindled, refusing to be extinguished into silence. You didn't dare turn around to see him enjoying you like this.

"Nothing, nothing you don't want me to do," he said in a lilting voice, hitching the hem of your skirt up half an inch. "You've always been so vocal, so I doubt you'd lose your voice in a time like this, would you?"

"No," you hissed, curbing any further speech in case you fucking stammered.

"Don't worry though, baby. You're easy," he scoffed, "and you never stay quiet, not with me.” 

“Oh fuck you.” You gasped as he shoved his knee between your thighs to part them.

“Oh I will. But if that wimpy boyfriend of yours is doing his job, then I shouldn’t find your panties soaked in a minute, should I, princess?" 

A breath passed, and then he hitched it up a little further, resting his chin on your shoulder to taunt you more. "I see the way you look at me, baby. I know you and that look in your eyes. It tells me all I need to know, princess."

His hand caressed your quivering thighs, brushing your stomach and pausing at your chest. He gripped one breast before the other before it settled upon your throat, and he tipped your head back. 

His lips travelled down your temple, to your cheek, and to your neck, where he spoke, "Hm? Ignoring me isn't quite your style. Isn't that why you came here today?”

He kissed the corner of your mouth, and then you knew you were truly fucked. Watching as he pulled away with a grin spreading as slow and molten as melted chocolate. 

"I know you wanna kiss me," he whispered, blue eyes alight when you turned and showed him the blown-out lust glazing your eyes. "There we go, baby, that's it. Gonna kiss me?"

You nodded, already too far gone. His hand cupped the back of your head, and he met you halfway in a slow, sensual kiss. 

Your fronts drew together, and he shimmied up your skirt until it became a corset. Then he cupped your cunt, the pads of his fingers trailing feather light. Your vision hazed, and your fists curled tighter into his shirt. 

Your features were contorted beautifully with lust. "Do not tease me right now." 

He laughed as you scowled, his heart aching. He'd missed you so damn much.

"Oh? Want me to rub your pussy, baby?" he cooed, long fingers smearing the slick oozing through your panties.

"Now I know what you fucking came for,” he groaned breathily into your lips, waiting for your sign to continue. Your panties were the door, and his dumbing teasing movements were tentative little knocks. But he knew you liked to be stripped bare and fucked like you were his. This was just the final round of his game. 

You bucked your hips forward, needing more, needing him. You clung to him, tugging on his tie, "Satoru, Satoru, more, please," you whimpered through his kisses.

"I only satisfy what's mine, but you're not mine anymore, are you, sweet girl? So what can I do? Nothing."

You eagerly shook your head in protest, on your tip toes, just to drag your mouth down his jaw and neck. "Even though this needy pussy is leaking all over my fingers, responding to me like I own her," he tutted, "but I don't, do I? Pretty girl."

You made a noise half-whimper, half-growl, palming him through his pants until he hissed and then broke his feigned amusement from just how much you were riling him up. "I am yours, Satoru, always, always," you panted.

"I know that baby, but I need to know if she still is." He yanked your panties up so roughly the fabric strained against your clit and made you moan so lewdly you quickly covered your mouth.

"Needy girl," he said lowly before he drew his hand back and slapped your pussy. You moaned even louder, falling weakly into his chest. But you hardly fell far, as he grabbed your face in one hand and leant close.

"You like it when I slap your needy little pussy like this, baby?" His smile moved a millimetre as your eyes darted to his long, pretty fingers. "Want me to bury my fingers inside it till you come too? So you can stop being so needy?"

"Please, Satoru." 

"Then show me, show me how much you want them," he whispered, eyes shooting down between you both as he started to circle your clit, not daring to touch it. 

"Show me you're dying for it, and we can forget about all of this mess, can't we? You've just gotta show me who knows this pussy best.” The growing gravel in his voice turned the words into ragged commands.

In raptured submission, you yanked aside your panties and guided his fingers, back arching against the door as you ran them back and forth against your soaked cunt. Your breaths finally flew fluidly through the air, like his touch was what your body needed to convert the carbon dioxide. 

His jaw grew slack at the sight of you, getting yourself off on his fingers, clumsily rubbing your swollen clit against his fingertips, breaths huffing from your nose in the exertion. 

He leant into the beautiful image of you, moaning in your ear as your slick drowned his fingers. The slick wet sounds of your cunt as you run them back and forth, rapidly unravelling him.

"Look at me," he demanded, plunging two of his fingers knuckle deep until it squelched when you didn’t comply in seconds. You let out a humiliating whimper. The pleasure of the sudden yet sweet stretch danced through every nerve.  

He grinned, fucking his fingers inside, “You look so pretty like this, I should take a photo.”

"I can't…." You couldn't speak, not when his fingers were relentless inside like this, clenching and fluttering as he bullied that spot inside you.

But his name was a never-ending hot, sweaty mantra.

"Trying to give me scraps, huh? But you're mine," he spat. 

"No, I need you, Satoru. I need only you, only you," you babbled. 

The lustful look in your eyes catapulted him over the edge. He couldn't take it anymore, his palm granting sweet friction to your clit as he fucked you like the world was about to end. "I know you need it, baby. I've got you. I know.”

He tried to undo your buttons with his free hand but was too fucked out to do it, grunting for your help, so you did immediately. "Say the words, and I'll stretch this sweet pussy out with my cock after you come, baby.”

"I'm yours, please. Fuck me," you whimpered, your entire body shaking as pleasure climbed through your body, building until you felt the pressure about to burst. Your hands roamed his body, eager to feel him as you removed your own shirt.

But like an animal, he was all over you, kissing, licking, and biting as you squirmed close to your climax. His lips closed around your nipple, and your spine straightened at the softness until he bites it hard. 

You yelped, but he only laughed, "Hurts? Don't care, baby, it hurts seeing you with that loser, the number of times I've had to come in my fucking hand because of you."

The lewd sloshes of your pussy grew louder, and Gojo delighted in how you were now dripping onto the floor. So, he finally granted you mercy, pulsing his hand until you came in wild thrashing waves that rippled violently through your body. 

"Oh yeah? Did that feel good, pretty girl?" he whispered, tilting your chin to devour your breathless mouth. The press of his lips and the erotic flicks of his tongue were making you throb wildly on his fingers. "See, you do like it when I talk.”

He let out such an attractive laugh at your glare that you fluttered around him again. "Baby again? I'm not gonna leave this pussy just yet, let up, or I won't be able to get my cock inside," he hummed. "Isn't that what we both want?"

"Then do it. Put it in me." You spread yourself, and he bit back a moan. His eyes flickered at how you shook when his thumb brushed your clit experimentally. 

Your brows knitted at the lingering sensation, “Please, put it in me, now." 

"Oh baby, but if you keep squeezing like that." Gojo grew dizzy at how your pussy refused to let him go, helping you tug away his belt and zip down his pants. Hazy, as you let up enough for him to take his fingers out of your spasming cunt. 

"You really gonna let me fuck you right here, huh?" 

His eyes were half-lidded at the sight of you in your office heels, panties soaked and half-pulled down, shirt hanging limply and open, your skirt a thick black belt hugging your torso. 

You were a mess, his mess, his pretty mess.

"Oh baby, you're so beautiful." He knelt down, working down your panties with his breath uneven, kissing each knee as he worked them down each ankle and then tossed them behind him. 

"Shall I tell you something?" he mused, running his hands up and down your thighs as he kissed and licked at the slick threatening to stick them together.

"Yes, tell me." Your hands slid instinctively into his hair as he reached your pussy and kissed it.

"I'll be honest, yeah?"

He was waiting for a shaky, "Yeah?" so you granted him one laced through a whimper, so he suckled on your clit in return before speaking. 

“I can pamper you. Spoil you, fuck you, take care of you." His voice was almost hoarse, thick and affected by something other than lust—a different emotion.

"I know that Toru, I do."

"N' I can—love you, too," he murmured, voice so uncharacteristically small but soft like it used to be when he spoke to you at night.

You gasped. Gojo had never said those words, not once. "Satoru, I-" His tongue dove into your cunt, and you almost toppled forwards, but somehow in seconds, he was carrying you. Holding you close, you heard the unmistakable clatter of the desk's contents clatter to the floor as he pressed you down upon the cold surface.

His large arms locked your torso down, and he swiftly resumed tongue fucking your cunt, delving his fingers in and out. His heart was pounding with his confession and from your lack of reply. Though he knew he was fucking you so precisely and so perfectly that it was indeed impossible for you to respond.

Until you burst once more, hands tugging his hair, bucking your pussy into his face, greedy for not just more, but for him. For the actions to do more than the words you could barely manage, so overstimulated and so sensitive that you felt yourself heating up. But then, as your pleasure erupted, feeling your hot arousal coat your thighs, a garbled "I love you" ripped from your chest. 

Satoru froze for several seconds, and then it was as if someone found the remote and clicked play as he somehow tugged off his blazer and pants all at once. Ripping his boxers down just enough to grab the base of his cock. 

Peering down at you, hungry and lovesick. "Say it again." You giggled and tugged him down for a messy kiss, working off his shirt.

"I love you, Satoru, I love you. I've never been afraid to say it." Your body was still shaking from your blinding orgasm, and he loved every second of it. He loved that he was about to ruin you even more. 

His cheek brushed yours as he folded your body, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, "I love you," he whispered hotly into your ear, "I want you to feel like the luckiest woman in the world."

“I already do.”

“Yeah?” You moaned in tandem as he bucked his hips repeatedly, more of his cock easing in each time. Teasing you over and over, even though you were ready to take him, and he knew it. "Can you take me, baby?"

"Yes!" You whined, breath hitching as he tapped his cock against your cunt before he slammed in and filled you to the brim all at once. You both groaned, the sounds fading into seconds of soft relieved laughter. "Oh fuck, Toru, so good."

He moaned, voice shaky in your ear, "That's it, baby, you're so good. Take my cock. It's all yours. Take every single inch."

"Fuck Toru, you're so deep, too deep!"

"No, baby, feels good, doesn't it?" 

Before you knew it, he picked you up and slammed you against the glass overlooking the city. If you weren't on the top floor, you'd absolutely refuse. But Gojo always did like fucking you in front of Tokyo at night. 

"You can take it, baby, you can fucking take it, yeah? Cause you're made for me, so made for me," he panted.

"I can take it." 

"I know you can." He sucked and kissed on your neck, no doubt leaving his mark on you, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and took every slam of his hips. His stamina had always been otherworldly, never tiring, even as he fucked you standing up, hands sinking into the undersides of your thighs.

"Leave him," he moaned, not in the slightest asking. 

Luckily you didn't mind, as you tugged him closer and parted your lips, "I will, I promise." 

"Because you're mine, baby." His teeth were clenched, and he was groaning into your ear. Usually, Gojo could pace himself, but it had been so long, and you felt so good clinging to him like this, it was so close and so intimate. “I love you.”

So close, and so…

He blinked at the revelation that hit him like a freight train, he wasn’t going to run any longer. He liked the intimacy, he wanted to tell you all the stupid things you wanted to know now, he wanted to be close, he wanted you. He wanted to be everything you needed and wanted. 

"Are you gonna come?" Your voice was so sweet it gave him an instant sugar rush, "Come in me, baby, fill me, Satoru. Need your cum," you whimpered. “Want it?”

"Yeah? You fucking do, princess? Haah-" He pulled out and shoved your front against the glass. You moaned at the switch, and as he spread you apart before thrusting back in, his large hands engulfing each cheek. 

He lost it as you pushed your hips back on him, moaning and babbling, "Then let's have the entirety of Tokyo be a witness as I give my sweet girl what she fucking wants, huh?"

"Fuck, Satoru, feels too good! I'm close too!" you moaned, both of your bodies meeting in desperate sticky clashes of hips.

He whimpered, “We're gonna come together?" 

You were gonna send him over the edge tonight. 

"I’m so glad you came. Take me, take it, baby. Oh fuck.” His hands dug into your hips, making you take every single rope of his arousal. Lewd sounds tore from your throats at the sensation of him filling you deeply. After seconds of panting and melting into each other's arms, he still made no immediate moves to leave you.

He thrusted slowly to drive it deeper, "I'm not on birth control anymore," you squeaked. "But I'll take th-“

"Good. We're getting the family started just on time."

You giggled tiredly, "You're on board that fast?"

He squeezed you as he laughed himself, arms locked tight around your waist, "Do you wanna see the engagement ring in my desk or?"

"Satoru!" 

He twirled you around to face him, "I was gonna fly you somewhere and propose, but I suppose the cats out of the bag." He pouted and got on one knee, kissing your knuckles, "You'll marry me, won't ya? Think of this as a practice proposal, though!"

You sighed, "God, you're a fucking idiot." 

"Heh, heh." He opened his desk drawer and produced a small black box. 

“I wasn’t joking, actually,” he popped it open with a proud smile, "Shoko kind of helped me pick it, said it was-"

It was beautiful, everything you’d always envisioned but had never described to him or anybody else. 

A slow tear slid down your cheek, another racing beside it seconds later, “Aww! Are you that happy to marry me, sweetheart?"

"Go away! But…yes."

He put the ring on the desk and cupped your cheeks, "Yes, you're happy, or yes, you'll marry me?" he asked tentatively.

"Both!" 

"Yay!”

You were half-expecting people to jump out with confetti because Gojo was just that ridiculous sometimes, but instead, you heard shrill knocking and then Nanami's voice, absolutely exasperated. "Gojo! You knew I was working overtime today." 

He shrugged, grinning at you recoiling into his chest and half-expecting Nanami to barrel in, "Probably the most action you'll get all year!"

He stroked your cheek, full of adoration. 

But I got her back. 

He always did like grand gestures. 

©mrsackermannx: do not repost, plagiarise, translate or modify my works.

tagging: @afortoru @luvjiro @sixpennydame @4sat0ruu @fangirlings-world @romantichomicide95 @nkogneatho @p00pdev1l @utahimeow @hayakawasb1tch @yocoochbussin <3

[hyperfixatedfandomer]

A moot of mine wanted me to compile this post and I had to oblige, since many people in the fandom decide to skip the comics for either story or artstyle reasons. Either way—

.

Top things to know about Spider Socorro from high ground comics series (for those who haven’t read it but want to know the tea)

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Spider possesses a freakish amount of physical strength, and the comics make a point to show it on many occasions. To my memory, no one in said comics is put into situations where they are required to use brute force as often as him.

Pre-RDA’s return, he wore primarily red, orange and cyan on his clothes, jewellery and hair. After their return, he begins using the dull browns that we are used to.

Spider and Kiri have their own special slogan. While the whole family uses “Sullies stick together”, Kiri and Spidey use “War orphans stick together.”

Actually, the comics expand quite a bit on their bond. Kiri sees Spider as a brother, but not in a "friend-zoned" way or in "brothers in arms" way, no. She calls Spider a bother she never had, despite having two, and repeats time and time again that he is her real family. To her, Spider is quite literally blood-related, and I find it endlessly wholesome.

Jake says that in some ways, Spider is more of a Na’vi than he’ll ever be, but still has a deep-rooted anxiety that he’ll turn out like his father, though he keeps said anxiety well-hidden…most of the time.

Spider had a foster family at hell’s gate, the family of McCoskers, but he was heavily neglected by them, which ended up isolating him from humans even more. Nash Mckoser is especially annoying, as he rubs Spider’s insecurity about not belonging with Sullies into his face, and calls him ‘Miles’ instead of his chosen name. Father of the year everyone. 👏

Spider has a photo of his mother, Paz Socorro, taped to the ceiling of his bunk. He stares at it every night and takes the picture with him when escaping Hell’s gate.

Spider isn’t allowed to get close to the tree of souls during important ceremonies, like the council of clan leaders, as Neytiri doesn’t let him, so he watches it from a cliff on the edge of the clearing.

Spider apparently never looses his humour; not even when he’s almost out of oxygen and borderline choking. (“I’m so sorry Spider, we’ve gotta go around.” “Ha! You’re…killing…me *gasp* here!”)

But he can be serious when situation calls for it. When the kids were caught exploring the old battlefield, he takes responsibility for allowing himself and his siblings to go far from the village unsupervised, which led to minor injuries.

He then proceeds to be yelled at by Neytiri, as she exclaims that it’s "always his fault" and he "thinks he can wander wherever he wants — like all sky people". He has an outburst and they argue. This is about the only proper face-to-face direct interaction they have in all three volumes.

Neytiri regularly speaks ill of Spider, believing that he is trouble and will follow in Quaritch’s footsteps. The boy has always been fully aware of it, and builds a gradual resentment towards her for never seeing him as his own person.

When RDA return, Spider’s foster family wants to join them and leave the Omatikaya permanently. Spider is forced to go with them against his will, and Jake agrees with Nash, doing nothing to prevent it, perhaps influenced by the previously mentioned anxieties.

Spider gets later picked up by none other than his siblings (Kiri, Tuk and Lo’ak). They arrived to Hell’s gate in the night, determined to get him back, but Socorro’s foster father traps them in separate rooms, after which it was up to him to rescue them and dip.

Actively shields and protects Kiri as the group is running from the RDA tech on their heels.

Ends up on big bro duty when Lo’ak stays behind and protects both of his sisters 🥹 and he’s not playing

16. When reuniting, Jake asks Spider to go back to the humans AGAIN, and the kid has to remind him that a certain avatar is also half-human, and wasn’t even born on Pandora. That finally shuts him up.

17. When the flying ship the Sullies are in crashes above the oceans and Kiri drowns, Spider is the one to carry her back to surface. The size difference is insane.

18. Spider knows how to treat injuries. (he tends to the pilot of their crashed ship, who has a bleeding gash on her leg)

.

.

@meenawrites @dirtytransmasc 🤭

[ellecdc]

While I don't like to spend time feeding into negativity on my page, I received a rude/aggressive comment which, though it had been sent to me anonymously, I have reason to suspect who it might have been from; so while I'm not going to broadcast it, it prompted something that I would like to remind anyone who might need it [which is truly maybe only 0.02% of you]

I have been on this app for 4 months; I have gotten hundreds [if not thousands] of asks sent to me during that time and I have always made a solid effort to respond to anyone and everyone who has taken time out of their day to reach out to me or even leave comments on my fics because it truly means the world to me

Over the past 4 months and throughout the hundred [or thousands] of asks and just as many comments and messages, I have only ever received 2 negative/rude/insulting asks - both were sent anonymously, one I had responded to and one I have blocked

And while this blog has grown bigger than I have ever imagined possible for myself and I now receive the most number of asks and requests than I ever had before, I continue to try to stay active, diligent in my responses, and enthusiastic in my chats and conversations with you all

I will admit that I have many unanswered asks in my inbox right now from a large number of my mutuals, listed anons, and many more requests that I have been saving for when the inspiration hits - I cannot respond to everyone and everything all of the time and for the most part, people have been very understanding about that

Sometimes I save chats for later when I have the headspace for it, sometimes I'll answer on the whim, and sometimes I save simple chats that I actually think would make for a good fic idea!

But it's important to note that I don't owe anyone the explanation I just gave to you all

The people that you interact with on this app are just that - people

People who have good days and bad days, people who have jobs and lives and loved ones who take precedence, and people who don't actually owe you anything

This is true whether you're a mutual, whether you're a dutiful fan, whether you're a listed anon, or otherwise - blogs don't owe you anything

They don't owe you a response, they don't owe you their time or energy, and they don't owe you their 110% every time you interact with them

I give my best to every single person I have spoken to on here, and some days my best is better than other days. Sometimes I get so excited when I'm out with friends or at work when I notice an ask from someone - mutual, anon, or otherwise - that I reply immediately because I just cannot wait to chat. This means I'm not always sitting down at my computer and able to give every single response the same amount of time or effort because I am a) busy, b) perhaps a little distracted and c) human

But I don't owe anyone that explanation either

This blog has always felt like a super niche book club filled with likeminded people who loved the same things I do, loved the same characters that I do, and who enjoyed chatting about it. It has also felt like a fun and wholesome community that I am happy to be apart of

And while I like to think that my blog is a safe space for everyone and anyone who might want to visit it; it's a safe space for me first

This blog is my space and my safe haven; you are welcome to it - but that welcome is a privilege, not a right - and I am not obligated to cater it to you

Like I said, I have only ever received two rude asks, but even though 99.98% of my messages are positive, the negative ones feel the loudest

Please think before you send criticizing asks to any blog; the 'saddest' thing of all is being both cowardly and cruel to people you don't know

& again, as always, thank you all for being here with me 🫶

-L

[dwampyverseawards]

FINALE: PFTONES VS WHEN GLASS SHATTERS

CONGRATULATIONS TO @pftones3482 FOR WINNING THE WRITERS SIDE OF THE FOR FUN TOURNEY, AND TO @local-dragon-haunt FOR WINNING THE INDIVIDUAL FIC/SERIES SIDE OF THINGS! THIS LAST ROUND IS BASICALLY JUST EVEN MORE FOR THE FUNSIES.

@/pftones3482

Relevant reason for being submitted:

not sure if it has influence on the fandom overall but it had an influence on me and I live by that

They create top-tier Phineas and Ferb content, from fics to thoughtful analysis of characters and episodes. The following link is a great showcase of just a portion of their current Phineas and Ferb fics;

Propaganda: Just their entire catalogue of Phineas and Ferb works on Archive of Our Own. This is my favourite fic of theirs;

And here are some of my favourite posts;

Vote for @/pftones3482!

Have you ever heard of the Secret Life of Candace? Aka best mermaid au ever? GUESS WHO WROTE IT?

I have been in the Phineas and Ferb fandom for over a decade - writing fics for it for 12 years, can y'all believe that? I'm one of the oldest "original" fandom members left on AO3, which is actually insane.

And to this day the things I love about the show have shifted a little - favorite characters, favorite tropes, ships, etc. Nothing drastic, but anyone who's been following me since the beginning has definitely seen those changes.

But the thing I have always loved most about this fandom IS the fandom. The PnF fandom is one of the most wholesome fandoms I've ever been in, and it's the reason it's one of the only fandoms I still interact with. Sure, there's been drama, and sometimes we don't all agree - no fandom will ever always agree on everything (if they do....run)

Overall tho this fandom is so kind and wonderful, and given how small we are, we are still obnoxiously loud about this show 😂 I love us for that

Regardless if I win or lose (and if I lose, I'm honored to go down to someone like @/inators, who is a very kind person and has a big presence in the fandom), I wanted to say thank y'all for getting me this far

Phineas and Ferb got me on Tumblr and started my writing career. The fandom is what helped me stay. If I could give y'all an award for "Best Fandom," I absolutely would 🧡💚

When Glass Shatters, written by @/local-dragon-haunt

Relevant reason for being submitted:

Propaganda: local_dragon has a fantastic way with words and unconventional story telling. AUs where Perry is revealed to the kids are frequent, but ones where he interacts with Linda and Lawrence too are few and far between and the concept has so much potential. I just love their writing

Vote for my bestie @/local-dragon-haunt they deserve it and they won't admit it

Contestants may add their own propaganda however they see fit, provided it does not put down the person they are against. All round 1 matches were randomly generated, and anyone may drop out at any time.

[golvio]

I think the metanarrative reason for the Princess being put into an antagonistic role in the “intended story structure” instead of being the protagonist is a big hint to her true nature.

While the protagonist gets to have the POV and make the major decisions that determine the story’s resolution, the antagonist is the one who actually makes things happen. Even when she’s not an antagonist and you’re working together, she’s still making things happen solely by being the only visible character present. Her mere presence changes things.

It’s very, very difficult to have a story without some external force or another character acting upon your protagonist and pressuring them to make a move. Even stories told primarily in flashbacks have the main character interacting with something, even if only in the past tense. A story where the main character just sat there, never interacting with anyone or anything, never having any experiences to learn from, would be incredibly boring. Simply having someone else there to talk to and play off of is enough to get things to move again.

Contrast this with The Narrator’s ideal story, which is a Wholesome™️ story where the main character does what they’re told and then never has anything bad happen to them ever because, as the only character left in the story, they’re safe from conflict, change, or heartbreak. Sure, it might not be a controversial story that would upset someone, but it’s also incredibly dull and unfulfilling. The credits roll and that’s it? That’s all we get?

It’s absolutely hilarious to me that, while The Narrator inserted his echo into the Construct under the conceit of being the literary device that’s the vehicle delivering the story to the reader, he really sucks at storytelling. He can’t build rapport with his audience (us) because he doesn’t understand what we want or how to persuade us beyond vague moral arguments with no emotional hooks whatsoever. He’s so inflexible and refuses to allow alternate interpretations that he can’t handle when things go off script, and can’t get the story back on track when we start going off the rails short of pulling a deus ex machina (which only works when the audience still has enough faith in him to take him seriously as storyteller instead of doing their own thing). Things only get interesting when the Princess gets involved. Things only move forward when she forces the issue, particularly in the Nightmare route, where you refuse to commit to a choice out of fear of potential consequences.

A friend of mine who recently did their first playthrough commented on how the underlying quest to collect perspectives for the Shifting Mound was basically an improv session. I think they’re right on the money. Each chapter is like a game of “Yes, And” between you and the Princess that continues until neither of you can think of anything else. The developers mentioned in an interview that Shifty M. only arrives to take the vessel home when the story “ends.” That is, when there’s nothing left to do. Improv is one of the genres of performance that best encapsulates Change in its demand for adapting to circumstances and new information, so of course The Narrator would be against it, preferring simple, linear narratives.

People tend to become fascinated with antagonists because they’re the ones who make things happen. Adding an antagonist who’s also a person is one of the easiest ways to start building a story. By making the Shifting Mound and her fragments our enemy and requiring us to get within talking distance in order to slay her, The Narrator shot himself in the foot by making Her the most compelling and interesting character by default.

[marimayscarlett]

Hi! I absolutely love all of your detailed posts about Richard, they make my day when you post them, I was wondering if you could make a compilation of very wholesome moments with fans? I'm afraid that Rammstein will never come back to the US and I'll miss my chance of meeting him in person and I'd love to see some sweet fan interactions ❤️ Dankeschön ❤️❤️

Hi 🤍

Please excuse my late reply to this, but I love this ask! It's known that Richard can be very warmhearted towards fans and gives out bone-crushing hugs left and right - I found several accounts of fans who met him and will accumulate these in the following post 😊 (sources are linked at the end of the post.)

First some stories of fans who shared their experiences on the internet:

One fan met him before a concert, he gave the fan a hug and they say that to this day, they haven't forgotten the feeling of this hug.

Here's an account of a fan who met Richard at a resort in Mexico: "Richard never acted like we were imposing on his time or being a hindrance, even though he was with a table of friends. As soon as we were in eye contact range, his entire demeanor changed. He lit up like a Christmas tree and stood to shake our hands, stood close to us to chat for a few minutes - five minutes, tops, and gave us hugs as we left before shaking our hands again."

After a concert: "The hug I got was bone crushing. I was right in front of him. Cried my way through Frühling [...]. He checked on me and asked me if I was ok. Said i was fine and even the amount of times I'd seen them play, i got so caught up in the emotion. Richard told me they were the most moving moments for him at least and pulled me into a huge hug that if i think about it, i can still feel. Sounds weird but when you get a hug like that you dont forget it."

Richard seems to be a bit camera-shy while being out and about (declining selfies most of the time), but offers/asks for hugs himself as a return, as told by a fan who met him at the Chicago Airport. The fan apologized after asking for a selfie, yet Richard immediately asked her to give him a hug afterwards.

At a concert at the Palace of Auburn Hills in Detroit back, May 2012: "For some reason, I thought of making a sign that said "Pick für mich, bitte". We were right at the barricade and I decided to flash the sign. I don't even know what I expected out of it. Well, Richard fucking Kruspe went to his mic stand, got a pick, went to the security guard in front of the railing and told him to give me the pick. The guard and I had chatted prior to their performance, so he looked at me with a "way to go, kid" look. People around me cheered. Best concert memory ever. Nothing but a class act."

Another fan reports him being quite talkative and attentive during parties - apparently really listening to the other person and showing real interest. He really likes to talk about music and guitars and seemingly likes hearing the opinions of fans.

Meeting the band in front of their hotel: "His hug was the tightest, and he smells SO GOOD, I wanted to ask what was his perfume. I told him I loved Emigrate, he gave me the biggest smile and thanked me."

Then we have voice from withing the fandom on here - the lovely and helpful @anwiel13 said this about meeting him at a Meet&Greet (thank you again for sharing this! 🤍):

"Once he entered the room, we immediately know it. Not that he did something, but he really has this big personality, in very good way. He was smiling all the time, unless taking photos, than we was all his gothic deep stare self. He was also super nice to two girls, who were absolutely nervous, telling him how much they love him. We all know he hear this all the time, but he really looked like he is listening them and make them feel not like crazy fangirls annoying him with their feelings. If that's make sense. He hugged one girl when she asked him and again, did not looked like she's annoying him with this. He left very quickly after taking photos and signed our things. Overall, he was very nice and caring. I heard somebody complain about him being all snobby and annoyed during some M&G, but he was nothing like this during the one in Prague."

Plus I have found two 'essay'-posts on here describing fan-experiences at Meet&Greets and afterparties:

Here Richard is described as really warmhearted, smiling and patient with the fans:

A very wholesome interaction (with a cute Paulchard momet) with a fan who brought selfmade fan art with her:

And since of course I found some experiences with other band members on my research-way, here are my favourites of some of the other guys 😊:

At an afterparty: "I spent a long time talking to Flake who is beautifully underappreciated. He's such a wise man with an incredibly dark sense of humour. [...] Flakes English isn't great but he seemed to really appreciate that someone would talk to him in German and happy to help me figure out words I wasn't familiar with and vice versa. I really appreciated it as he did slow down his natural German speaking speed to help me continue a conversation in German as native speaking speed was just a little too fast."

At a meet and greet: "Schneider gave me such Dom-Daddy vibes that I would have got on my knees if he asked. He was so friendly, asked about myself and I was able to give him a letter from my best friend who had spoken to him years before, and he was so happy to take it."

At an afterparty of Till's solo tour (London concert): "I went to see Lindemann in London and was invited to the after party and ended up trying to open a bottle of wine with a set of keys with Till and then ended up drinking vodka and chatting to him for a few hours. Such a humble human and one of my biggest role models in life - he made me want to become a fire performer and he said I looked great doing what I do."

"Did a meet & greet on the 2019 tour and a bunch of the after parties. Doom is an incredible dancer and Paul and Richard give the best hugs." (I've read several times that Schneider seemingly kills it on the dance floor 👀)

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6

All in all, it's always amazing reading about fans having nice experiences with them - but let's not forget (since some people do exactly this), the band members are also just human beings like you and me, don't owe the fans smiles and good moods, and it's not a crime to have a bad day once in a while (with less enthusiastic interaction with fans) or just wanting some peace or being in a hurry, since they all do have private lives🤝🏼

[shinelikethunder]

so for the record i fully blame you for the fact that i'm watching supernatural for the first time in 10 years or so, but ALSO one of the things that is fundamentally crunchy and compelling about sam and dean's relationship, imo, is that it's a constant, unceasing power struggle that they are to varying degrees aware of but mostly won't admit to

(sam, particularly, i think most desperately wants to /win/ the power struggle for good while also being the least likely to admit that it's actually happening. dean's investment feels much more situational - he wants sam to go along with his plans in the moment but isn't necessarily that invested in Being The Boss Of Sam Forever, whereas i think one of sam's deepest and most shameful unrealized desires is for dean to submit to him permanently, and the place where i depart from most wincest shippers is that imo what makes that really juicy is that dean doesn't want to do that.)

anyway! some thoughts on a fandom i haven't really interacted with at all since 2011, just for you lmao

yes! tbh it's one of an entire subgenre of ships that hit real good for this exact reason: an equality that comes, not from both of them being wholesomely egalitarian and refusing to ever seek the upper hand on one another, but from them constantly being in a billion little squabbles and wrestling matches both petty and consequential, even as they're earnestly trying to negotiate conflicting needs. and none of it is ever even going to settle into a single fixed pattern, let alone result in a permanent and definitive "winner." they both have their expected roles in this dynamic, and they both constantly shift between chafing against those roles and embracing them and instrumentally leaning into them to get something else they want.

it's so pleasingly crunchy... yet another reason i cannot vibe with whatever's in the water right now that's driving people to stan either the ship or the characters by picking one brother to be The Woobiest Victim Forever. like. that's not just getting carried away with a temptation i otherwise understand, that is actively sucking the fun out! even when it's my favorite little rat in the Blorbo Studies Lab who's the designated woobie, the static designation is less fun than the sharp-elbowed version where they both get to #Transgress against each other.

(i think dean is subby in the sense of getting a HUGE kick out of situations where he can safely hand someone else the reins, and/or stop agonizing and just get an A in being the goodest boy in the world by finding out what will please someone else and doing it. but oh my god, any attempt to extend that dynamic into situations of genuine conflict or threat? yeah no, the exact constellation of responsibility issues (and free will issues, objectification issues, self-worth issues, etc) that make those kinks so potent also mean that if the fun game turns into a real encroachment... best-case scenario, he snaps into Amalgamated Macho Archetype defensive panic and is probably a blustering shithead to reassert control. if he initially goes along with whatever it is, for sam's sake or because lol what are boundaries, that is Much Worse. because it sets up this ticking time bomb, resentment buried underneath compliance, and that is going to very specifically bring his thermonuclear John Winchester Issues into the fray.)

[lazymonth]

The King for Wondergøtten ; “ The Fool’s escape ”

creator of maine Wondergøtten : [ @danisha-tdh ]

Similar to Turbo, King candy also focus on escape the Wondergøtten too ( it's like the theme of this AU about trying to escape or something )

He has a more serious vibe then KC in the main universe and didn't go well with The fool much

The king is also trying to not has a interaction with other people too because of the last time he meet Turbo, it's giving him some trust issue...

; Fun fact, Concept (?) & something else ↷

✦. King candy in this AU following the theory/head canon about him originally being a character in Sugar rush and Vanellope's dad before Turbo overthrow him ( I love this theory sm. Literally feel wholesome and traumatiz everytime I'm thinking about it )

✦. The reason for giving him a sword it's a reference from The king card. There's also a sword on it. And it's also a reference for " King of Swords " card too

✦. King candy is also trying to hide from Turbo all the time he's in Wondergøtten. For KC, Turbo is the most horrible person he ever know

✦. Something that seams like to be a little bit of swapping between these two universes. One of them are just goofing around and another one is trying not fall apart

✦. Turbo cat boy that I randomly draw during the sketch. Enjoy!

[albywritesfiction]

Alby's Notes (#9)

Hello everyone! It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it? 😅

Well, time for us to take a seat and talk, ‘cause I’ve got some news for y’all. Dunno if this is going to be good or bad news to you guys, so I’m just calling it news

1. I’m not going to be very active on Tumblr, at least for the foreseeable future.

It has honestly been rather challenging for me to juggle acads, orch, personal stuff, writing, and managing this blog all together, so for the sake of my sanity, I’ve made the tough decision to take a few steps back from posting content here.

2. I’ll be closing the ask box for a while.

Since I haven’t been able to answer asks for a month or two, I now have a backlog of asks to go through. The number of asks I have in my inbox is rather overwhelming to me, to be honest 😅 And some of them are similar to others that have been sent previously, which I feel bad about because it’s like, wasted time, y'know, like, you wouldn't have needed to ask a similar question if i had answered the first one 😓

And some similar questions I haven’t been able to answer because they’re questions that I need time (and the brainpower honestly) to answer. 😓

So until I’ve cleared out my Tumblr inbox, I’ll be closing the ask box.

3. I’ll be shifting more towards using Discord

I’ve made a Discord server while I’ve been slowly chipping away at Chapter 1 Part 3 :) Special thanks to my lil bro @system-operations for being my guinea pig as I worked on and tested out the server 🤭

So, part of the reason why it’s been difficult for me to do stuff on Tumblr is because my access to it is rather limited now due to personal stuff; it’s nothing bad, don’t worry, and it’s not because I’ve been doing anything shady or illegal (I think it’d be the shock of the century to people who know me if they ever heard that I did something like that 😅). It’s just personal stuff 😅

I also think that part of why I’ve been overwhelmed with Tumblr stuff is because of the similar asks that start to pile up the longer that I’m unable to answer them, which is why I’ve set up some forum channels in the server where people can send questions and feedback and you guys can see what questions have been asked and which ones have been answered, especially without needing to wonder if I received your questions and answered them or not.

But the main purpose of this server is to provide a lil space where you guys can hang out and maybe interact with each other and with me :3 I’ve got a few things planned for server activities:

Game Night: We would play some of the games in Discord Activities and some other online browser games like Red Flags and Cards Against Humanity

Watch Party: We would watch some animes that are available on Youtube (such as Campfire Cooking in Another World [10/10 great anime in my opinion we stan wholesomeness in this household]) and Starkid musicals (the Hatchetfield trilogy is fire y’all), and probably some other Youtube stuff

Study With Me: Just popping into a voice channel and playing some music while I study helps me quite a lot apparently, so if that works for any of you who might join the server, it’s a-okay if you wanna join in :3

But of course, participation in these activities is very much optional! It’s okay if you’d prefer to lurk, I’m a lurker myself in most of the other servers I’ve joined 😅

However, I do want to make it very clear now that this will be an 18+ server, as it will not only be for ATE but also for the other IF projects that I have planned, some of which will contain content that is not suitable for minors. So just to be sure, I’ve decided to restrict the server to those 18 and above. Please, for any underage followers that I may have, do not lie about your age if you join because I will have to remove you from the server. You have been warned.

4. Now, going back to the Tumblr asks...

So now that I’ve laid out the stuff with Discord, you might be wondering what’s gonna happen with the Tumblr asks after I’ve answered the stuff in my inbox. Well, here’s what I’m planning to do:

Step 1: Compile all Tumblr asks into a Google doc 

Step 2: Add any Discord asks into same Google doc

Step 3: Share the Google doc for public viewing

Step 4: Re-open Tumblr ask box

Step 5: Update the Google doc as I receive asks, even if I’m unable to answer the questions immediately

This way, everyone can see the asks, whether or not you’ve got Discord or Tumblr, and the search for the asks is gonna be a lot more efficient! 

So long, Tumblr search, hellooo my old buddy ctrl/cmd+f!

5. And what about the Tumblr blog in general?

It’s still gonna be here, and I’m still going to post about significant updates to ATE! It’s just gonna be quieter once I’m done answering all the asks that are currently in my ask box.

So, yeah! That’s my novella of news 😅 I’ll be sharing the link for the Discord server in the next post so the link and the stuff I’ve said about it aren’t buried in the wall of text you just read/skimmed through. 😅

Thank you all so much for all the love and support you’ve had for ATE, and I hope you all have a great day/night ahead!

[lovelykhaleesiii]

I have been going back and forth in posting this, but want to have a clean slate and a clear mind going forward.

this fandom if I am being honest (and from experience in many others) has been the most roller coaster ride. it has been wonderful and blossoming, yet also, toxic and disheartening…

my current state right now, I feel as though I have been shunned from the community from all corners. stranded alone, with only a few friends (I could count them on one hand) to talk to and to trust.

I have been incredibly disappointed in this fandom by people I had considered friends, people that I believed to be sincere and kind, but over time showed a very different and ugly side.

I am not going to sugar coat this topic anymore… and be warned, I will call you out if need be, from this point on. I always had hopes that as a community mostly dominated by adults, we would act more like it, but it seems not. then accountability is necessary, because this school yard behaviour is not it.

I work most of the time, I barely even have time for a social life on top of personal things… tumblr is not my priority. but when I log in on here, I do wish and intend for this to be a space where I can relax and enjoy myself, to be creative and write and share my ideas and stories. to interact with people, to bond over characters and stories that I don’t ever get the chance to in real life, because I barely meet people with similar interests.

this is meant to be my safe haven.

recently it has been quite the opposite…

I have been gaslit, bullied & ghosted/neglected. as someone who genuinely struggles to put herself out there, I have made attempts that I am thankful for yet hurt by the experiences. putting myself in discord chats only to leave in the matter of a few days…

I have said this before and I will say it again. If I ever say anything to you directly or indirectly, and it doesn’t sit right with you. I am open to talk privately about it. I am not perfect, in fact far from it. I have flaws as do we all. I can make mistakes, I am human. if the matter can be resolved, amazing, if not: I don’t expect to get along with EVERYONE on this hellsite. the block and unfollow options are there for a reason!!!

regardless, I understand everyone has their own personal lives and issues… believe me, I DO! I am a huge advocate for life > tumblr. you need a break, take the break. you want to go on hiatus, go on hiatus. you do not owe anyone in this fandom shit, as I have reminded myself as of late. In saying that, showing people common courtesy and decency is not by any means a stretch, it should be the bare minimum.

showing support to your fanfic authors/gif makers and creators is valid and ideal.

I have taken multiple breaks because the stress and exhaustion from my work and personal life has been a lot, that I am able to remove myself from a situation, to not allow anyone else to suffer my ordeal. your actions have repercussions, and you will be held accountable.

to wrap it all up, I will continue to write my little, silly stories, I will continue to read fics. However, I have of recent been so turned off by some of the people in this community, that if I’m being honest (which I also strongly advocate for, and believe I owe whoever read this that), I have no energy to interact with people that have crossed me and made me feel less of the person I am at this point in time. my friends who I respect and admire dearly, know who they are, I don’t need to tell them twice.

when I feel comfortable with this fandom, my interactions may change, but for now. I very much enjoy my small number of friends.

thank you to those who read this entire mouthful, I genuinely appreciate the small things and taking the time out of YOUR day to read and listen to little old me, says a lot.

please take care of yourselves, and I hope that we can create a better more wholesome fandom space.

love always, Hel 🤍