#have to assume youre just not listening to the narrator or something

[dyaz-stories]

you know my tongue is a weapon || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Shoko suggests a study night, but Gojo's bored and he doesn't want to study. So, instead, he offers to play a game, when all the others have left to get some food: every time he gets an answer right, he gets a kiss.

As you soon find out, Gojo can be very good at studying, as long as he gets something out of it.

word count: 3.8k

genre: college!AU, mostly fluff i think

cw: kissing, making out, semi-public kissing, unresolved sexual tension, reader is insecure and is therefore an unreliable narrator, dry humping ig, fem reader (the word girl is used once)

a/n: first time writing for jujutsu and for gojo! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy yourselves :)

soundtrack

prequel

Exam season is never a fun time to be on campus. Stress fills the air, the hallways, the always full libraries, even the coffee shops where people usually meet to relax between two classes. It’s the only conversation subject between sleep-deprived students, looming over their head threateningly at any time of the day and night. It’s stifling, a weight on their chest that never quite wears off.

As for you, well, you’re doing alright.

Oh, for sure, it’s a lot of work, and you’re not thrilled about it by any stretch of the imagination, but academia is your thing, so you don’t find it nearly as crushing as others do. You’re more terrified of the time period that comes afterwards, while you’re waiting for the results like Judgement day.

In the meantime, you’ve given up on trying to find a spot to study in the library, and you’ve been doing most of it in your small student room. You haven’t stepped outside in days when Shoko texts you to suggest a study night. You suspect that she hasn’t started working and intends to cram, but you take her up on the offer nonetheless.

You show up at her place right on time — you always are — with your notes and some snacks. You wait quietly after knocking, trying to make sense of the chatter you hear on the other side of the door. She had mentioned she would ask a few other people if they wanted to join, which you had assumed would be fine, but faced with the reality of it now you can feel a lump growing in your throat. Academia might be easy for you, but people… aren’t.

When the door opens to reveal Gojo Satoru, piercing blue eyes meeting yours through white locks of hair that he pushes out of his face a second later, you fully consider turning around and leaving.

“You made it,” he says, shooting you a wide grin.

“Hi,” you squeak in reply.

Gojo is a… friend. Ish. Kinda. You think. Well, he’s a friend of Shoko’s, anyway, so the two of you have hung out, socially, before. Up until last summer, you assumed he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank God you’re here,” Shoko says, appearing from behind him to grab your hand. “No one here wants to work. We need to whip these imbeciles into shape or something.”

“I’m working,” Nanami sighs from the table in the living room, where he’s sitting alone.

“I was just waiting for everyone to be here, Shoko,” Geto says, his voice soft and even, as he approaches the table.

You set your bag down, giving Nanami an sympathetic smile, and he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. When he nods at you, you’re pretty sure it’s a silent way of saying ‘thank you for not leaving me alone with them’.

“What are you guys starting with?” you ask, pulling some books out of your bag.

Everyone here has different majors, but with some classes in common. You’re not sure how efficient this enterprise is going to be, if you’re completely honest, but as Gojo lets himself fall on a chair with a dramatic sigh, you suppose it can’t be worse than if he was left to his own devices.

“I’m doing literature, algebra and physics tonight!” Haibara announces, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. You don’t want to crush his hopes and dreams, but—

“You’re never going to get through all that in one night,” Nanami says with a frown.

“Don’t listen to him”, Gojo intervenes, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”

There are stars in Haibara’s eyes when he looks at him, but you notice the glances Gojo is stealing at Nanami, and the way his smile widens when Nanami grits his teeth in annoyance. You bite your lip so you don’t let out a chuckle.

“Do you want to start with literature with me?” you offer. “Nanami, you’ll have to handle algebra because I’m not taking any algebra classes this semester.”

The corner of Nanami’s lips curves to form a smile.

“It’s good that someone here is taking this seriously.”

“Ugh,” Gojo mutters. “Fine. Hey, Suguru, do you know what tests I have next week?”

Nanami buries his head in his hands with a pained groan, and you laugh again, lump gone from your throat now, as you move your chair to come sit next to Haibara. Gojo’s eyes follow your movement silently. When you lean over the same textbook as Haibara, shoulders brushing against his as you push a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression turns thoughtful. It’s only when Geto drops a book in front of him that he snaps out of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do shots instead?” he asks, tone sour.

“Man, don’t tempt me,” Shoko whines as she sits down as well. “The shots will have to wait.”

Truly, Gojo thinks, sadder words have never been spoken.

Nanami calls it quits right before 10 pm. He’s tried to leave a few times by then, usually because of one of Gojo’s quips, but Shoko’s managed to keep him around until then. It doesn’t help how delighted Gojo gets by his reactions, and you can’t blame him for abandoning you. You don’t doubt for a second that he would have been much more productive without everyone else around.

“If they pass their exams, we should give ourselves all the credit for that,” he comments at your intention, right before walking out the door. “Good luck with them.”

Then he’s gone, before Gojo can start to protest about why he is not getting any encouragements, even though he’s suffering so much, and everyone is mean, and nothing about this is fun, and—

Haibara, despite his best intentions, falls asleep on the couch less than thirty minutes later. It was just supposed to be quick nap, but by midnight he’s still down, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. Plus it’s not like you were making a lot of progress with him anyway, so he just might be better off sleeping.

It’s not long after that that Shoko starts to get real antsy. So far, she has kept on track despite Gojo’s attempts at distracting her, but you can tell she is starting to get incredibly bored. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to be Gojo’s case, even if the way his leg bounces underneath his chair tells you he’s itching to do anything other than sit here doing nothing.

“Fuck it,” Shoko says, finally giving up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Geto frowns.

“Now? Alone?”

“As if anything would happen to her,” Gojo says, spinning a pen between his fingers. “She’ll be the scariest person out there.”

Geto rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” he tells Shoko, and she shrugs. “Do you want to come too, Satoru?”

Gojo lets himself fall down on his chair, looking at Geto with his head hanging behind the back of the chair.

“Nah,” he says after a few seconds of intense deliberation. “Can’t abandon the teacher here.”

You feel your face heating up.

“Oh, I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to go, you should—”

“It’s fine,” he handwaves your protests away. “I’ll finally get some work done without Shoko here to constantly distract me with—”

He bursts out laughing when Shoko throws her pen at him.

“We’ll be right back,” she announces, standing up. “You,” she points at Gojo, “play nice. And you,” she gives you a severe look, “don’t hesitate to hit him. I’m not joking.”

She leaves the room, escorted by Geto. Haibara doesn’t even stir when the door slams.

“Alright,” Gojo says, not wasting a second to reach for your chair so he can pull you closer to him, “it’s my turn to get my own personal tutor.” His fingers brush against your leg as he pulls you in, and you know, from how his eyes seem to drink in everything about you, that he doesn’t miss your quiet gasp nor the way your breath quickens. You’ve noticed this before, too. If he likes annoying Nanami, he seems to delight in your reactions at least as much — though he tries to make you laugh or to fluster you rather than piss you off.

“Um,” you say, with the eloquence that characterizes you around him, “what do you need help with?”

He tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You find him breathtaking, you always do, but you think you’ve gotten better at hiding it, so even if it feels like he’s looking right into your soul, you give him an easy smile.

Somehow, he is the one who ends up averting his eyes.

“How about philosophy?”

Right, the two of you share that one class on the history of ideas.

“Sure,” you say, already grabbing a book and thumbing through it. “I’ve taken quite a few notes for that class, actually, I can give them to you if you—”

“That’s boring,” he interrupts you. “We should do something else.”

You put down your book, intrigued, and something twists in your stomach when you see the look he’s giving you. He’s like a cat with a mouse, with exactly the same hunger in his eyes.

“What—” you clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well,” he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his palm, “I need an incentive to work, you know?”

You swallow. Sure.

“So how ‘bout I get a kiss for every right answer I give you?”

And you almost choke on air.

“What?” you manage to croak. Blood is rushing to your face, and it feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart’s beating faster, hammering in your chest, and you feel your palms grow sweaty.

“C’mon,” he teases, reaching out to pull on a lock of your hair and twirl it around his finger, and you know, you know, he knows he’s got you right where he wants to, “help me study.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he all but purrs.

“Satoru,” you say, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he blinks innocently. “Just trying to find a fun way to study.”

You examine him carefully, try to figure out what, exactly, is going on behind these beautiful eyes of his. You’ve had— moments, with him. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car once. He held your hand through a busy festival, teasing you about not wanting you to get lost, and later helped you get on his shoulders so you’d get a better view of the stage. The one time you agreed to accompany Shoko to the club, you remember his hands on your hips, his breath against your ear, the ghost of his lips to your neck. But nothing actually happened between the two of you. You’d told yourself that it was all a distraction for him, that he didn’t want more.

This isn’t exactly confirmation. You don’t doubt that it’s all in good fun still, and knowing you, and how hard you tend to fall, you should walk away while you have the chance.

But you really, really want to kiss him. Want to know what it would feel like to taste his lips, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel his hands all over you.

You always take the smart decision. This is not the smart decision. But…

“What if you get it wrong?” you ask.

Satoru blinks.

“You can, uh, spray me with a water bottle?”

You let out a brief laugh.

“Isn’t that a dog thing? That feels unethical, Satoru.”

He preens at your use of his name.

“You should take your chance,” he drawls. “Shoko says it’s really cathartic.”

You’re not sure you need catharsis, but you feel a little lighter now. It’s all a joke to him, clearly, and from what you’ve seen in the past couple of hours, he hasn’t seriously studied once. He’s not going to get the answers right. You don’t think he’s even trying to.

“Fine,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, reaching out for a water bottle and positioning your chair so you’re facing him. “Who came up with the notion of civil disobed—"

“Thoreau, 1848, but the essay was republished with that name in 1866.”

You stare. Gojo gives you a lazy smile.

“Now where’s my kiss?”

“Um,” you say. You feel incredibly awkward now. He’s leaning back against his chair, with eyes that have not left you once since he’s suggested that idea. You— have to move, now, don’t you?

Very slowly, very hesitantly, you push yourself to your feet. Satoru doesn’t move at all, and you don’t know if it relieves you or stresses you out even more. The position is quite uncomfortable, too, with you standing and him sitting down. You don’t know that you’ve ever towered over him like that. Gingerly, you put a hand on his shoulder, and then you’re leaning over him, and then you’re kissing him, and then you’re moving away as fast as you can. This was just a peck, really, a press of your lips to his that lasted a second, tops, and that you’re already trying to forget about.

You’re not a teenager anymore, and you know this shouldn’t be getting to you that much, but it’s— it’s Satoru Gojo. You’ve worked very, very hard not to think of him like that, because you didn’t want to let yourself get hurt. And now, you’ve let yourself be dragged into this so easily? Ugh. You wish you could slap yourself.

“Okay,” you say, voice more high-pitched than you’d like, but still understandable, which you’re grateful for. “Next, um, can you explain what philosopher kings are?”

Surely—

“Of course,” Satoru pretty much sing-songs. “Plato thought that cities should be ruled by trained philosophers, because only a philosopher would know and act for the good of a city.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Aristotle thought that was bullshit, though. For the record.”

And then he waits. You narrow your eyes at him.

“When did you study for that?”

“I never study,” he answers lightly.

Instead of standing up this time, you scoot your chair closer to him, and you lean forward. Satoru chuckles, but humors you — even if the temptation of leaning further back to make you come to him, because you’re just adorable when you’re flustered, is great. This time, when you kiss him, though, he presses forward before you can move away, his nose brushing against your cheek as he chases after you. And oh, what a sight you are after that, wide eyed, lips parted, hands tightening on your notes.

“Next?” he asks.

“Right,” you say. You’re— not sure what’s happening here, to be quite honest. Should you stop this? You— don’t think you want to, but you’re also not sure what this charade is all about. “Um. Spinoza thought that free will—”

“—could only be reached through knowledge, and that most people never obtained it.”

Okay.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a physics major?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely amused.

“Determinism’s a pretty big deal in science, actually, but let’s not change the subject here.”

You bite your lower lip, and his eyes track the movement like he’s starving for you.

You’re feeling hot all over, anticipation burning inside of you, and this time, you can’t pretend that he hasn’t done this on purpose. That he wanted to kiss you. You can’t quite reconcile the way you see yourself with that thought — how could Gojo Satoru want you, of all people? — but you find that it doesn’t matter.

You lean towards him once more, and this time, you let yourself kiss him. Really kiss him. You press your lips to his, soft at first, but when you don’t move away immediately, you feel him pressing against you, one hand coming to cup your cheek. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, and you let out a involuntary gasp. He doesn’t waste the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, and you keep inching closer to him, hands coming to his shoulders for support. You can feel yourself melt into him, and you curse your common sense when it leads you to break away from the kiss.

It doesn’t deter Satoru, though, because as you do, his hand slides under your knee, and next thing you know, he’s pulled you into his lap. His face is deliciously flushed, pink hue under the pale skin. He looks up at you, long fingers tightening around your thighs.

“We should waste less time like that,” he says.

Shoko likes to say he’s insufferable, and you can see why. Everything all seems to come so easy to him, and you’re defenseless against the way your heart races. When his eyes are on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not usually the type to indulge in that idea, but, ah, what’s the harm, as long as you know how to come back to earth later on?

You shake your head as you take him in.

“How are you even doing that?” you ask, mildly peeved.

“Haven’t you heard?” he grins widely. “I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes at him. You’ve heard about that, of course, about how he maintains stellar grades without breaking a sweat. You just hadn’t seen that in application until now. In class, he’s usually asleep, or taking great joy in bothering the teacher. You’ve never seen him try to get something.

“Well, where’s my question?”

You sigh, putting your arms around his neck. You left your notes on the table, meaning that you might be less prepared than he is, actually.

“Descartes famously said—”

“Cogito ergo sum. C’mon, rational doubt is at the heart of science. I’m starting to think you’re just trying to kiss me.”

You do want to kiss him, but you have the self-control to shrug.

“Well, if you don’t want to—”

His mouth is on yours before you can think of how to end that sentence. He kisses you hungrily, hands gripping your hips as he tries to pulls you closer to him. Your chest presses into his, and you tighten your hold around him, fingers running through his hair. He grunts when you pull on it slightly, tilts his head back a little more to give you better access to his mouth, and when his tongue brushes against yours once more, you can’t help but to rock your hips against his. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, and one of your hands falls down to his shoulder, fisting his shirt as you try to find better support.

“Fuck,“ you hear him mumble underneath you, right as you feel him grow hard. He pushes up against you. His fingers dig into your skin, one hand slipping under your shirt to run over your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. It moves higher, brushing against your bra.

Against your better judgement, your hands travel down his body, tracing over his muscles. You feel him twitch under you, and when you roll your hips once more, with much more intent than the first time, he groans.

“Satoru,” you whisper, though even you don’t know if it’s a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

His eyes widen, and you feel him lift you up easily, pushing you onto the table. You lean back slightly, resting your weight on one hand. He’s red all over now, from his ears to his neck. His pupils are wide, his lips swollen, his hair messy. He looks like sin.

You don’t want to think about what you look like.

“C’mon,” he says. “Last question.”

“Haibara’s in the living room,” you point out. Even you know where this is leading.

“He’s dead asleep,” he merely shrugs. He’s mesmerizing, but you note that the glimmer of amusement that always dances in his eyes. This feels— serious.

“Um,” you say, licking your lips and watching how he bites his as his grip on your waist tightens once more — like he’s holding himself back. “Confucius—”

And then, the front door opens.

Gojo clicks his tongue and reluctantly steps back as you jump down from the table, beelining for the bathroom — you know that kiss is written all over your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror. Your body’s still tingling, and you’re aching with want, now that release has been denied to you, but you know better. You’re supposed to know better. You take a few seconds to comb through your hair with your hands, and when it no longer looks like someone’s, well, kissed you senseless, you cautiously step back outside.

“We got you some fuel,” Shoko announces loudly, before getting shushes by Geto. He points in Haibara’s direction, who’s started snoring slightly.

“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly. “I’ll— Why are you wet?”

Gojo deadpans as he looks at you but, well, there’s water dripping from his hair, down his chin, and onto the shirt your hands were fisted in just a few minutes earlier, so, you think the question is valid.

“He was splashing water on his face when we got here,” Geto supplies helpfully. “Gojo runs hot.”

“And now it’s all over my floor,” Shoko mutters. “Next time, just wait ‘til the bathroom’s free, huh?”

Gojo looks like he has something to say just on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at you and seems to swallow it back.

“If anything, I made it cleaner,” he proclaims, leaning back on his chair. “Shoko, how long has it been since you cleaned in here? We really need to find you a partner who’s willing to do that stuff, otherwise you’ll keep living in fil—”

Shoko’s pencil case lands right in the middle of his face.

“You absolute brat,” she spits out, “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to tell me something like that when you rely exclusively on Geto to—”

The bickering continues, but you tune it out. Under the table, Satoru’s knee brushes against yours. It’s almost hesitant at first, before he leans his leg against yours, when he realizes you’re not moving away. This isn’t the smart choice, either, but, ah, you’re always, always the smart girl. Is it so bad to have a night of fun? Is it so bad that you want to know what it would feel like to have him, even if it’s just once?

He’ll break your heart, the voice of reason says in the back of your mind, but then Satoru looks back at you, checking to see if you’re laughing at how he’s making fun of Shoko and, well.

You think you’ll let him.

Any and all feedback in the form of asks, reblogs, comments, tags is highly encouraged and appreciated~ If you enjoy my work, interactions are what keep me writing and motivated!

I haven't written anything in months and I think it shows but, well, I have to restart somewhere lol, so I hope it was still fun for you and you enjoyed yourselves here for a little while. Thank you for reading <3

prequel

[bettsfic]

I have this thing where what I'm writing is absolutely not what I'm about in real life. I like complexity and depth in what I read. But the things I care about make only vague appearances in my writing, I don't know how to fully explain it. I have a lot of passion in life and I'm ~relatively emotionally intelligent. I'm curious about emotions, anyway, but what comes out in my writing is just cookie cutter.... Bland..... Zero complexity or emotional exploration. It's like I'm on autopilot when I write and I can't shake it.

i'm about to present to you yet another writing spectrum: director-writers and actor-writers.

a director-writer creates stories by writing discrete scenes that they see in their mind. like a film, a scene begins, something happens, a scene ends. we move on to the next scene. i would venture to say a majority of writers today are director-writers, because what's been en vogue in the 21st century is very much influenced by our visual media. we watch visual media. a great many writers like to render their prose such that it feels like a reader is watching the story play out. these director-writers are standing on the outside looking in, manipulating and moving all the pieces of their story to create the desired end result.

director-writing is so common that i meet many, many writers who trap themselves in scenic prose because they assume that's what "good writing" is. these writers are not actually directors. they don't want to be standing behind the camera; they want to be in the mind of the characters. and those people are actor-writers.

an actor-writer's prose doesn't necessarily prioritize scenes one after the next, but develops a compelling narrative voice. actor-writing is about learning to be someone who isn't you. i think the moment you abandon the forced witness of the camera and instead dive into the mind, experiencing the story instead of rendering the story, you unlock the path of that complex emotional exploration you feel is missing in your work. and you will probably never go back.

here's an activity to try:

whatever you're working on right now, open a new doc, take your main character and, in your mind's eye, trap them in an interrogation room. sit them across from you. ask them, "what is your deal?" write down their answer.

in this activity, you're looking for a few things:

what is their story? why does it matter to them? (this is probably the biggest problem i have with the pitfalls of director-writing: nothing matters. everything is just...happening. as a reader, i'm always looking for what i'm being asked to love. maybe that love is awful, toxic, contradictory, ambivalent, whatever. the point is, it matters. a huge percentage of the things i read never ask me to love anything.)

are they trying to convince or persuade you of something, making their testimonial unreliable? or are they confessing to you things they'd never admit to anyone else?

what is at stake for them? what is their deepest desire and their greatest fear? in what way is their deepest desire flawed? how is their greatest fear irrational? how have the events of their story influenced or distorted their perception?

close narration offers us the greatest possible access to the interiority of the narrator. first person is really just a monologue, an explanation, an excuse, a confession, a plea, a prayer. so so so many writers get blocked because they're trying to See the story instead of Listen to it. they force themselves into this elastic third person where the reader remains a distant witness with the occasional thought, insight, or feeling, but that comes second to what i call Bodies in Space. if i never read another "he strode across the room" again it'll be too soon. imagery is wonderful, don't get me wrong, but i would always, always rather get insight into what a character is feeling, thinking, grieving, dreaming than the knowledge that they are sitting in a chair.

i'm not saying switch to first person. you can create the effect of first person with very close third, and you can create the effect of third person with very distant first. pronouns don't really matter. what's important is voice over vision.

i say this a lot, but if i want to watch a story, i'll turn on my tv. prose is the only art form that allows us to fully explore human consciousness. let it do the thing it was invented to do.

my theory of director-writers and actor-writers is adapted from Percy Lubbock's The Craft of Fiction, in which he defines "picture" vs. "drama" writing. however i found that terminology confusing and poorly articulated, so i flipped it into a process-based approach with what i hope is more accessible phrasing. also, prose = consciousness is from 13 Ways of Looking at the Novel by Jane Smiley.

[guiltysungho]

— boynextdoor when you need help to sleep

genre : tags. fluff, suggestive (18+), established relationship, comfort (?)

wordcount. 150 - 300

a/n. you might feel the quality degrade as you continue but i really just wanted to post something. its not too bad i hope, enjoy 😭

@onedoornet

sungho is used to your tossing and turning in bed whenever falling asleep becomes a task, and whether it’s a nap or full night’s rest he knows what to do to get your melatonin up.

he’ll keep you close, enough to feel body rise with each tired breath. gentle pats on your head as he sings a sweet melody to you, humming the instrumental part quietly for you to travel with the sound.

earlier in your relationship you had told him about this song, your childhood nights filled the same harmony he sung to you. he’d learnt the song just for you, for nights like this one when sleeping wasn’t so easy.

you remember the first night you heard the song from him, such a cherished memory. you dreamt of wonders that night, of you and him in a fairytale where that song played throughout the kingdom.

even when he was away from home where he couldn’t hold you, his voice would still be at your reach. after seeing how much you enjoyed his singing, he’d recorded the song for you, saving it on your phone so you could always sleep soundly even when you were miles apart.

when you can’t sleep neither can riwoo, he needs to see you sleeping soundly for the slumber to settle in. he doesn’t know exactly how to make you fall asleep but he tries to figure it out based on general opinions.

so when it’s time to sleep the whole mood in the room switches. rain ambiance noises added to a white noise in the background, cool toned led lights, air purifier, assuming at least one thing would work so got everything.

most of the time you end up laughing, watching him put on every appliance in the room to set the mood right just makes you smile. checking with you on the settings, asking if you want to change the rain sounds to fire place sounds since its winter.

while laughing doesn’t help you sleep, whenever you did fall asleep you were at ease. no matter what happened in the day, you could look forward to the sleeping sessions because of the joy they brought.

at times he would go the extra length and start counting sheep out loud for the both of you, giggling together at each number when you should be sleeping.

the truth was you knew exactly how to fall asleep, you’d fall asleep in the first couple minutes, just lying down on his chest, arm around his torso, but you liked the whole drama of it all so you would let it happen.

jaehyun is like a homemade podcast, you’ll lay there between his thighs while he tells you all about everything. sometimes he’d tell you about his day, depending on how interesting it was and other times he’d tell stories.

he knows you like listening to him so plays with that, telling you all sorts of things that grow more unbelievable as he goes on. at times you’re unsure if he is even saying coherent words or just making sounds that sound like words.

it never did bother you though, if anything you loved it the more incoherent, the easier the slumber came. you would let him play with your hair as he told a story you’d never heard of before, braiding it to the best of his abilities.

something about having his fingers tangled up in your hair and his voice so close to your ears made sleeping such an easy task, you wonder how it was ever hard for you.

you’d fall asleep to his sweet voice, bedtime stories from your one and only. even when he’s far from you he finds a way to make it work, late night calls were he'd just take you along with him, narrating his every movement.

he knows by your soft hums through the line that it works just as well so he continues till all he can hear is your quiet snoring.

slow relaxing tunes fill your room whenever it’s bedtime. you get so close together under the sheets, cuddling as you let the music transport you to a deep slumber.

most of the time that’s all you need to fall asleep, his arms around you and sweet melodies playing from the speaker. the only downside being that it wasn’t an immediate solution to your insomnia.

for taesan there’s only one way to help you sleep immediately and if the tiredness is too much for you he’s always willing to help with a little stimulation. he’ll help you relax completely and release all tension from your body.

he finds it cute the way you always fall asleep immediately after an orgasm, the way your small hands would wrap around his wrist when you felt it coming and stay wrapped there once you passed out. if you need an orgasm to fall asleep he'll give it you with the most pleasure.

whenever it came to it his main focus would be you, wanting you to feel the most pleasure so the slumber could settle as soon as you orgasm. he plays with your most sensitive parts, teasing and pleasing you, kissing you wherever you ask for it.

when you finally finish your eyes are already shut as you slowly regain your breath falling into a deep sleep. he gives you a kiss on the forehead to telling you did well before letting you sleep comfortably.

leehan is particularly gentle with you when you're sleepy, to be honest he enjoys listening to your little yawns and groans that come whenever you were tired so he's a little more unserious in his ways of helping.

when you're tired in bed with him he'll whisper to you while you're craddled in his arms but it's more of an asmr session that a soothing moment. while his gentle touches help you relax, the sound of his voice by your ear whispering the script to a cartoon movie keeps the sleepyness from reaching it summit.

occasionally he will add sound effects to the show, mimicking sounds of bubbles with his mouth and flicking his cheek with his finger to remake the sound of water drops, trying his best to not burst out into laughter.

so most nights instead of sleeping you're giggling in a dark room with your boyfriend whispering the script of nemo to you telling you to imagine the movie while he narrates. with all the laughing you do you always end up falling asleep in the middle of his story, imagining your self in the movies.

he never lets you miss out on his late night asmr, even when he isn't with you he send you voice memos whispering to you in the most erotic way while telling you to tuck yourself in bed tight. giving you some sort of guided meditation session so you can sleep soundly.

[aeithalian]

Rick. Buddy. Amigo. Explain something to me. Real quick, I promise.

[The Trials of Apollo: The Tower of Nero, Chapter 4]

Good genetic package, Rick/Apollo? Are you sure about that?

Listen.

Estelle's physical description *clap* makes *clap* no *clap* sense. Why on earth does one of the only fully human characters in this series have to have unique and weird physical traits? Also, it makes no sense in the larger scope of Rick's writing style to have chosen this unless he had some sort of larger intention behind it. Not to mention the theories by fans haven't really done much to fully flesh out any perceivable reason as to why this might be:

Poseidon blessed Sally when she was pregnant - By far, this is the most believable to me, but it's still eh, because this feels very weird and I don't get the vibes from Poseidon that he would have done so to the extent that it shows up in Estelle's physical traits. Also if that were true, it doesn't make sense for Rick to just fully drop it in the story without the intention to flesh it out further, because to my knowledge he doesn't have plans for another novel that takes place after ToA.

Paul isn't Estelle's father - Firstly, this is out of character for Sally, and this doesn't fully justify why Estelle has Percy's eyes. PLUS, salt-and-pepper hair still wouldn't be natural for a newborn

Paul is Poseidon in disguise - This explains her traits the best, but Paul's character is so much more satisfying if this isn't true. It's also total bullshit.

Enter me. I have a theory. Yay. But first, we must discuss.

Firstly, I want to talk about her eyes. Going back to the theories, and based on my fair amount of knowledge of genetics (clarification: I write this as I procrastinate studying for my final genetics exam), the eyes are mostly interesting because Apollo specifies that they are immediately similar Percy's. The thing about eye genetics, though, is that they are what we consider to be 'complex traits', meaning that they are influenced by the interactions of multiple genes from both parents. What I mean to point out here is that Sally could definitely have the genes to produce two children with 'sea-green' eyes, considering her canonical eye color is blue. We don't know what Paul's eye color is, which makes my job a whole lot easier because I can assume that it doesn't directly contradict the possibility that Sally just has really strong eye genes (?). ALSO, who's to say that Poseidon didn't just change his eye color to match Percy's when he was born? Ah, yes, the perks of having a shapeshifting dad who seemingly loves you and your eye color a lot (but is still absentee, WHOOPS).

But what I actually found the most interesting about Estelle was her hair color. More specifically, the fact that Apollo says he's never seen an infant with that color hair. And we know Apollo is somewhat of an unreliable narrator (although this rarely affects his descriptions of people other than himself, and has also mostly evolved into a more honest narration since the end of book 3), but I believe we're supposed to trust this dude who just so happens to have been alive for over four millennia. Based on Apollo's previous descriptions of his own powers (see his conversations with Percy in TTC, when he pulls a Mufasa and basically admits to seeing everything the light touches), we know that Apollo knows and has seen a lot of stuff. So, how is this the first time he's seemingly witnessed this type of hair mutation?

I did some research, as one does. To me, it seems as if Estelle has what's called Griscelli syndrome, which is a type of rare autosomal genetic mutation that typically results in phenotypic hypopigmentation of the skin and hair. (It can also result in neurological disorders and immunodeficiency, based on the type, but I digress.) It's also pretty rare, considering both parents have to be carriers, and even then the child still has a one in four chance of being affected. Current statistics from the NIH say that Griscelli syndrome currently presents in less than 1000 Americans, and is rapidly fatal in 1-4 years without aggressive treatment.

That sad note aside, it's weird to me that the way Rick wrote Estelle's physical description makes it seem as if Apollo had never seen anything similar. I feel like a god of both medicine and knowledge would probably be a bit more up to speed with rare genetic disorders, especially because he's so old. The only explanations are that Apollo, in his mortal state, can't make a diagnosis, OR what he's seeing isn't actually something he can diagnose.

FURTHERMORE, from the same chapter, Apollo says something that muddies the waters even further:

It doesn't make sense that Apollo thinks that Zeus would take such an interest in Estelle. Her nature alone doesn't make me think that the king of the gods would take a sudden interest in a literal newborn, regardless of how much Apollo loves her (and honestly, I don't blame him).

What I think? Rick pulled the strings just tight enough that he has a very interesting plot point to go off of if he ever decides to pick up the pen again and write a new book.

What I think? Estelle doesn't have Griscelli syndrome, she is in much more danger than anyone realizes, and Apollo's subconscious put this together from the second he saw her.

Actually, let's rewind. I'm in the process of writing a fic (stay tuned!) and I had a random thought: do the Greeks have an apocalypse story? You know, like Ragnarök in the Norse mythos, and the Revelation stories in the Bible.

The answer? They don't. I guess that's what you get when the Greco-Roman gods are fully immortal and literally can't be killed.

That didn't stop the rabbit hole, though, and what I found was actually very interesting and I couldn't believe what I was reading.

I give you: Hesiod. More specifically, his poem Works and Days. More more specifically, his 'ages of man'. More more more specifically, the iron age.

For context, Hesiod was an ancient Greek poet who lived in the 8th century BC, and was walking right along with Homer in terms of fame at the time. The poem Works and Days is actually more of a really long Facebook post where he complains about anything and everything, especially in his section on the ages of man.

In summary, Hesiod wrote about what he perceived to be the five stages of human life since the creation of mankind by Zeus' hand:

gold: perfect in every way, pious, and blessed by the gods

silver: real bitches, the ugly middle child, so Zeus killed them

bronze: were so violent they wiped each other out

heroic: golden child, contained the heroes of the Greek mythos

iron: middle-aged men still living in their mom's basement

Hesiod wrote his poem during what he perceived to be the Iron age (it's really just him complaining about being born in the wrong generation), but he ends up listing a lot of qualities: 'everyone works too hard, the gods hate us, nobody respects family values anymore', blah blah blah.

I know what you're thinking: Tia, what does this have to do with an apocalypse?

Well, dear reader, bear with me. You see, every time Zeus didn't like an age of mankind, or it became too violent, or it generally wasn't pious enough, Zeus wouldn't hesitate to destroy that race and start over. Basically, an apocalypse.

So, you may ask a new question: what is the criteria for Zeus to destroy the Iron age? And, assuming that this is the age we're currently in, what would it take for Zeus to destroy everything our beloved Riordanverse characters know and love?

My friend, that is where Estelle comes in. Yes, a baby.

Take this excerpt regarding the Iron age:

"And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth."

I think you see where I'm going with this.

My theory? Estelle, in her unique position as a bridge between not just the mortals and the demigods (eg. her relationship with Percy), but also the mortals and the gods (eg. her great impression on Apollo), is a living, breathing prophecy. A prophecy that the end is nigh for this current age of mankind.

Furthermore, I also think that Apollo made this connection, somewhere in the back of his mind, the very second he realized that her hair was entirely unique. According to Hesiod (who Apollo also mentions later in the book, so we know he knows who Hesiod is), the day that babies are born with gray hair (or, salt-and-pepper for the sake of the theory) is the second Zeus basically get the go-ahead to commit genocide.

This also brilliantly explains why Apollo suddenly, and seemingly without reason, makes to keep Estelle's existence a secret from Zeus, because he knows that it might be the easiest way to get everyone he knows and loves killed by his own father for "the greater good" as I'm sure Zeus will put it. Plus, in his mortal state, Rick didn't have to explain why Apollo did what he did, since Apollo's been having memory issues since the beginning of the series: why would he remember one line from a poem written almost three thousand years ago?

Frankly, Zeus doesn't care about mortals: the only reason he really cares about anyone is if they have enough power to threaten his own, or if they have some sort of power he can benefit from. This, certainly, falls under the category of the latter. Wouldn't you want a chance to remake humanity into the perfect image that it used to be? You would, if you hadn't gone through a five book long grow-a-conscience speedrun like our lovely Apollo over here.

Fortunately for Rick, this is such an outrageous theory that if it never comes to fruition, I won't be surprised. If he ever writes something similar, though, know I called it first.

EDIT: here's the fic i mentioned i was (am) writing

EDIT: a masterlist of my other metas

[gayofthefae]

The juiciest part of so many Willelmike scenes is remembering that we're focused on the fact that one person is saying something, but we cannot forget that the person it was being said to HEARD IT.

This was first brought to our attention 2x08->3x03. That when Mike said "crazy together", when Mike said "best thing I've ever done", Will was on the other end of that. He received and interpreted those words and internalized that love. To us the first time through, Mike was started to move on with more focus on Will before El came back, just in time before he moved on etc etc. What a relief, she's here. But we forget like him that Will is still there, having just experienced all the as actions that come with putting your future on someone and then having them taken away. Those aren't undone on him just because El got them back. "All is right with the world" was how it was played, but the in between stuff still happened and still led him on.

The classic other examples are that you don't notice at first that El's letter isn't narration, it's TO Mike and therefore has an affect on him. And when Mike says all that stuff to El, she is reacting and crying but we assume we know her reaction and the music is romantic so it's harder to notice but she HEARD that. People say romantic things and those romantic things have consequences, even if the character doesn't follow through on them.

I think there's this automatic idea I've definitely experienced that needs to be curbed that because people back down or down react after the fact to a romantic speech that it didn't happen. But if we thought Mike was about to say it in the diner, she did. In fact, film wise, we wouldn't if she hadn't. And she remembers that. She heard it.

The same is true of the van scene. The van scene is our new 2x08. I can't wait for our 5x03, so to speak. Because Will said all that. We know. And we even caught up to how Mike looks at him as he's saying it. But his Mike's following actions don't erase what he heard or the fact that he heard it. And Will not saying his own name doesn't either. Him backing down doesn't mean none of that was said or that it didn't come out of his mouth. The thing is, it isn't quite a Cyrano. Because in Cyrano, he makes it seem to come directly from Christian. But this is Will's recounting and Mike knows that. And things like "inspiring us, that's what you do" slip through from only Will. "That's what you do" is Will. Whether it's El too doesn't much matter.

But Will called him a leader, a guide, inspirational, the heart, healing, needed. Whatever Mike did with that...he didn't forget it. This is no way the last we've heard from Mike on it. He thinks about it, I'm sure of it.

Anyway, I'm listening to You Shouldn't Have Said That by ella jane. (These are usually because of a song)

[randomshyperson]

High School Sweethearts - Cheerleader!Wanda x Reader [Kinktober]

Summary: The new student captures your attention completely. She's perfect and she's everything you ever wanted.

Warnings: hints of corruption/innocence kink, first kiss, first time, virgin!Wanda, smut, teasing, some edging, fingering, strap-on use, top!reader, high school au | Words: 6.923k

A/N-> My first time writing something of this kink be kind. I'm absorbing the latest episode of She-Hulk yet, someone needs to send Jen hugs.

Kinktober Collection | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

It was Kate who told you about the new students.

It was Tuesday, and the school was full of burbs all over the hall. You were late and a little irritated because you had argued with your father on the way - Steve Rogers could be many things, and stubborn was most of them. - and so you weren't the least bit interested in the daily gossip that your colleagues might have.

Still, Kate was one of your favorite people and she was so sweet that you didn't have the heart to ignore her attempts to get close during her freshman year, and now, she was a sophomore and you were graduating, and even though you weren't in the same classes, you were inseparable. 

"I hear they're the mayor's kids, and Y/N, you have to see, the two of them look like they stepped off a magazine cover." She excitedly narrates her encounter with the new students in the cafeteria. "If they weren't wearing their Avengers High uniforms, I would have mistaken them for models, I swear."

You chuckle, finishing picking up your books and closing your locker.

"Be careful not to drool too much, Bishop. Or your girlfriend will get jealous." You tease, but Kate doesn't laugh, assuming a momentarily fearful expression and looking around to see if Yelena wasn't somewhere listening in on the conversation.

The reaction only makes you laugh harder.

It takes three periods before you finally see the new students. By then, you have heard half the school talking about them, and you know they are twins, and yes, really the mayor's children because Darcy Lewis shows you a picture on her cell phone with the whole family landing in the local paper.

"They're cute, but it's no big deal." You mutter to Kate after looking at the photo, and she and Darcy share a nasal laugh.

"You'll change your mind when you see them in person." Your friend says, looking forward again because Professor Harkness has just entered the room.

Darcy puts her cell phone away, and you sigh, "I highly doubt it, I study with the most beautiful girls in the world, I'm not easy to impress. " You compliment them charmingly and Darcy and Kate laugh softly, rolling their eyes in good humor.

It's not a lie what you said, yet when between the penultimate and last period, a lost-looking girl bumps into you in the hallway, you are momentarily speechless at the greenish irises in front of you.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." She mutters in apology, stooping to grab the book she has knocked over and return it to you.

As you pick it up, you don't let go. "But I did see you. You're the new girl, right?" 

She smiles in surprise, hugging her own notebook. "Yeah, that's me. I'm Wanda. We just moved here from New York-"

You raise a hand in the air and Wanda falls silent in confusion, but you smile gently.

"Why don't you tell me that, and whatever you want, over coffee?"

She blushes very hard, opening her mouth a few times before giving a shy laugh. "S-sure, I like coffee."

You move closer and take out the pen attached to her notebook. You take the cap off with your teeth, and Wanda watches the item with hot cheeks the entire time you are pulling out a sheet of paper and writing your number in her notebook.

As you return the pen, you smile at her. "Don't forget to text, I'm dying to know the end of your story." You tell her, offering a gentle nod before leaving.

Wanda sighs loudly, leaning her back on the lockers. A silly smile fills her face, and she stands for a good few minutes trying to understand what just happened and why her legs are so shaky. 

–//–

You go out for coffee after class on Thursday, and for thirty whole minutes, you try not to stare at the legs exposed by her cheer skirt.

Wanda is so beautiful it hurts, and her near cluelessness only makes her more attractive.

You clear your throat quietly because she is a really very interesting person and you want to know more about her.

You learn that she was born in Sokovia - which explains her delightful accent that distracts you with every word - and that she moved to New York when her parents divorced. She is the younger twin, but not the sister, as her father has another girl named Lorna who is in middle school. It is also Wanda's first time attending school, and when she says this you widen your eyes slightly.

"Are you kidding me?" You question pushing the coffee creamer with your straw, she laughs lightly.

"No, I swear." She assures you humorously, mimicking your movements without realizing it in her own drink. "My dad is the overprotective type, and Pietro and I have been homeschooled all our lives. But it's senior year and somehow we managed to convince him that it was an important experience. Pietro wants a scholarship for athletics and I, well, I'd like to do cinema."

You smile. "So you like movies?"

Her face lights up even more. "I love movies! I know it's a very competitive industry, but my dream is to work as a film director! I love writing stories, and it would be so amazing to bring them to the screen and... I'm boring you, aren't I?" she interrupts, her cheeks a little red. "Sorry, I get too excited-"

"No, you're not." You interrupt her, "I like hearing you talk, go ahead."

Wanda blushes, even more, lowering her embarrassed gaze to her own lap before smiling shyly.

She tells you more about her dream of being a filmmaker, and about her family not liking the idea of her not pursuing a more secure career, and you make a point of encouraging her to do what she likes and not what others think is right, and Wanda is so flustered she hardly knows how to thank you.

You realize that it is getting late, and if you don't come back now, your father will probably find a new problem to discuss, so you tell Wanda that you have to go. She seems sad about this ending, and yet is still too shy to call you out on anything else. When she builds up the courage to do so, you think your heart won't hold out from all the cuteness.

"We could... I don't know, have tea? Or soda?" She invites clumsily, and you laugh softly just enough to make the redness of her cheeks worse.

Finishing putting on your jacket, you retort:

"I have a better idea, filmmaker girl. Want to go over to the house for Netflix&Chill?" 

It's a test or a joke with real intent, and Wanda falls right in. 

"Of course! I have like a dozen recommendations, and we could watch something by Kubrick or maybe Burton..."

You bite your lip, you're the one who fell. For her, and it was in the blink of an eye.

"Sure, Wanda, any movie you want." That's what you answer, deciding to keep the not going to be much-watching part to yourself.

–//–

Wanda lived on the edge of Westview, which meant that you could use the subway. But part of you wanted to impress her, so when Bucky let you use his motorcycle, you didn't miss your chance.

"Don't scratch it." He repeated the instructions, the key at face height. You raised your hand to take it, and he lifted the item a little further. "And what's our deal?"

You rolled your eyes. "Three hours out of the house for you to have a date night with my father. I could sue you for the trauma." You joked making him laugh before you managed to steal the key.

"Just text me when you're on your way. And please-"

"No scratches." You completed with an impatient sigh.

While your stepfather had his date night with your dad - whom you were avoiding as much as possible mainly because the deadline for sending admission letters was coming up and you had no idea what you were going to do and didn't want him pressing ideas on you - you made your way across town to see Wanda Maximoff and her stupidly adorable face.

Just as you imagined, she was excited by your arrival on the motorcycle, equally so from Pietro who started asking you questions as soon as you properly introduced yourself, but you noticed that Wanda's father was not too happy.

"You must be Y/N." He said as soon as Wanda guided you to the fancy balcony like all the rest of the house and the well-molded garden.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Maximoff." You spoke, which made him chuckle slightly.

"Actually it's Lehnsherr, Maximoff is their mother's maiden name." He clarified, and you feigned interest, nodding softly. 

"Papa, Y/N, and I are going to watch a movie in my room." Said the girl - She was wearing a long sweatshirt and shorts that disappeared with the garment covering it, and you were having a hard time trying to not imagine what it would be like to slide your hand under there. 

Erik looked you up and down as if he could read all your naughty intentions at once.

"Open door always, Wanda." He warned with his arms crossed, and Wanda chuckled confusedly, pulling you by the hand toward her bedroom.

You heard Erik ask Pietro questions about you, but your gaze was more attentive to the movement of Wanda's hips leading upstairs.

"Your house is quite beautiful, Wanda." You comment once she leads you into the bedroom. "Not as beautiful as the owner, of course."

She giggles embarrassed at the compliment, and you take the opportunity to kick the door discreetly shut. "Come sit here, I've set everything up for us."

She did, you could see the laptop, the drinks, and the popcorn. A proper movie session with Wanda in her fancy room, and you sighed lightly as you took off your shoes and jacket to sit on the bed next to her.

"What movie did you pick for us, pretty girl?" Your compliments were visually making her flustered, but she still said nothing, adjusting herself on the bed to reach for her laptop. "I was thinking of watching some classic, so I've sorted out some options for us."

She showed you a list that made you smile warmly. All the movies were good, but none had what you wanted to do with Wanda.

"I have a better suggestion, and I'm sure you've never seen this one." You told her as you moved the laptop to your own lap to search. She tried to peek, and you pulled away with a laugh. "No peeking, it's a surprise."

She laughed, shaking her head but holding herself in place. " All right."

"You're Jewish, right?" Your question surprised her a little, but she murmured in agreement the next second. You noticed many things on the way to her room, including the Jewish items that filled the blanks in your head about what you knew about the girl next to you. "Another reason for you to love this movie."

"So mysterious." She murmured humorously getting a soft chuckle from you. Once you had chosen and the start credits began to roll, Wanda bit her lip curiously. "What's it about?"

You crossed your ankles together. "Temptation." 

Wanda looked at you. "What?"

"Watch the movie, movie girl." You retorted amused and she chuckled softly before turning her attention back to the screen.

For the first few minutes of Disobedience, Wanda was a little upset. The story is sad in its complexity, and dealt with the fanatical religious obsession of a Jewish community and the harm to the protagonists' freedom. And at first, she didn't catch what the film was really about.

She thought it was sweet that you had brought a movie about her family's religion until the first kissing scene made her cheeks blush.

"Oh, they were a couple..." The words escape you before she can count them, and you lick your lips to contain your own anxiety.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Your whisper is curious in totality, and Wanda laughs in confusion, taking her gaze off the screen.

"What? No, of course not." She retorts, turning her attention back to the film. " They are sweet. I mean, the story is sad as hell, but they're sweet."

You smile, a relief filling your chest. You are about to make a comment when the door opens, and the moody figure of Erik appears.

"I told you I wanted the door open." He reminisces as Wanda pauses the movie.

"Sorry, papa, it must have closed with the wind." She half-heartedly clarifies, and you bite your tongue to hold back the impatient sigh of having your moment interrupted. 

"I have a dinner with the Congress people now, I just came to say good night, dear. And please don't delay Miss Rogers' stay here too long, driving late at night is dangerous."

You are about to say you will go as soon as the movie is over when Wanda comments:

"She could sleep here." And Erik hesitates just as you do. Wanda swallows dryly. "If you want to, of course. What if it's okay with you, papa?"

You have trouble hiding your smile, and Erik looks ready to make up an excuse when his cell phone rings. He sighs impatiently.

"Sure, we have a guest room. Good night to you." He says before answering the phone and leaving the room, talking about work until his voice fades from the distance.

Wanda leaves the movie paused, a confused expression on her face.

"He's acting so weird. This bed is big enough, why would I put you on the other side of the house?"

You stare at her and give an impressed laugh when you realize that Wanda simply doesn't know why.

"Wanda, your father doesn't want me to sleep in the same bed as you."

She frowns in confusion, "Why?"

You tilt your head. "He thinks we're going to fu-"

"Hey, I'm going at Quill's, can you cover for me if Dad asks for me when he gets back from his fancy dinner?" Pietro interrupts your speech as he enters the room, already holding the keys to the white pickup truck you've seen him drive a few times to school. Wanda blinks away from your intense gaze, a bit flustered.

"S-sure, Pietro, good night." She says very quickly, and the other looks between you and her with a suggestive expression.

"You two behave yourselves, huh? Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He teases, and Wanda grimaces. You chuckle.

"Sure thing, mary jane." You retort without hesitation and Pietro stops smiling at that instant. Wanda doesn't understand and probably doesn't know that Pietro smokes pot behind the gyms, and so before she can question the nickname, Pietro is muttering goodbye as he leaves the room.

"What was that...?" She asks but you shake your head, giving the movie a play.

"Let's keep watching, it's getting to the best part." Wanda sighs a little as you adjust and stay close enough for her to smell your perfume completely, effectively taking all attention away from the movie.

But she had to pay attention when the first moans started. In an instant, her cheeks burned, and Wanda tried to look as cool about it as she could.

You were tapping your fingers on your stomach, completely at ease with the intimate scene playing out on the screen in front of you, and it is impossible for Wanda to do the same.

Once she shifts uncomfortably, and you notice her clenching her thighs, you sigh.

"How was your first kiss?" Your question almost makes her choke, but Wanda is thankful that at least she has an excuse to look away from the movie's sex scene.

"Hum, I've never..."

"Really?" You cut her off gently, adjusting your weight on her arm to face her, and Wanda feels very nervous about all the attention. She nods, and you smile. "It's really hard to believe you didn't have a line of suitors."

Wanda chuckles embarrassedly, shaking her head. "Well, I don't know many people, you know? It's not like I had classmates studying at home. And when I wasn't studying, I was at some officional event, being my dad's perfect little girl."

The hidden bitterness in her sentence made you raise an eyebrow softly, the interest burning in your mind. 

"I know the feeling, my father is a military man and loves to keep up appearances." You say, quietly closing the laptop in Wanda's lap. "But unlike you, I do whatever it takes to annoy him."

"Very naughty of you." She mutters half breathlessly because you are leaning over her suddenly. But it's only to put the closed laptop on the nightstand, and once you notice the way Wanda is blushing and breathing out of rhythm, a smile forms on your face.

"Wanda, I would like to be your first kiss." You whisper to her, and instead of pulling away, you rest a hand on the side of her head. "If you want that of course."

She chokes softly but nods almost frantically. "Yeah... I'd like that."

"Let's start with lesson one then. Close your bedroom door." You guide low against her lips, using every mental control to pull yourself away from her. Wanda gasps, but quickly moves in shaky steps off the bed to the bedroom door, and you hide a smile as you tuck yourself into her bed.

She surprises you a little when with trembling fingers, she locks the door.

"Just... for precaution." She clarifies embarrassed about the look on your face, but you just shrug.

"I'm not complaining." You tease. "Come here."

Wanda swallows dryly and wastes no time in obeying, walking back to the bed. She sits down a little further in front of you, and you hold out your hand for her to take, and once she does, you pull her gently to sit on your lap.

Wanda is trembling with nervousness, and her skin is warm to the touch. You lick your lips, trying to control yourself and not grab her right there and kiss and fuck her until she can't remember her own name, and it takes a lot of willpower when she looks so good all over you.

"You've never really kissed anyone, not even a small peck?" You ask sweetly, bringing your hand to her cheek for her to look at you. When she denies it with her head, you move closer. "Give me a peck then." She does so on the spot, and it's quick as expected, but it turns her cheeks into tomatoes. You smile, "Again. Longer this time."

She sighs, but nods and breaks the distance, pressing her lips over yours. 

Instead of letting go, you place your hand on her cheek and kiss her back firmly, eliciting a surprised and affected sigh in return. She opens her mouth to breathe, and you slide your tongue inside.

Wanda makes a noise with her throat, moving restlessly in your lap but you guide the kiss until she gets used to the sensation and soon her breathless sighs sound like gasping pleas, her hands move to your shoulders and she tries to deepen.

Everything in her body begs for more - more of your hands, squeezing her waist, more of your tongue sucking hers, and more of you, everywhere you can touch. She feels hot and bothered, and it is as new and fantastic as it is overwhelming.

You kiss her until she starts to move her hips impatiently against your thigh, and then you know you have to stop now or you won't be able to pull it off later. The way your heart speeds up when she looks at you with puffy lips and dark eyes once the kiss is over only confirms this.

"Is everything okay?" Wanda speaks first, her voice shaky and husky, her face inches from yours.

You take a deep breath, offering her a small smile.

"Sure, I should just go home." You say, and you are already moving her off of you in the next moment, missing the other's confused look. 

Once you have your shoes on, Wanda can't contain her concern.

"I...I did it wrong didn't I?" 

You frown, turning to her as you put on your jacket. Wanda looks down at her own lap. 

"You didn't do anything wrong, Wanda." You tell her, moving closer again to the end of the bed. "Listen." You say gesturing to her ear, and she is confused for just a second.

Next, she can hear her father outside the house, car noises, and something that sounds like complaints about a canceled dinner.

She looks at you again, and you are already kneeling on the bed to reach for her face.

"I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble." You explain as you caress her cheek. "I can't risk you getting grounded in this fancy mansion when I want to keep taking you out."

Her gaze glows hopeful. "You do?"

You smile, leaning in to kiss her intensely for a moment. "Of course I do." You assure her once you break the kiss, your gaze darkening afterward. "And I also want to come to your room, lie on your bed, and elicit all the delicious sounds you make when I kiss you."

Wanda chokes softly, leaning in to break the distance again, but you haven't offered her more than a peck, earning a grumble in return. "When are you going to kiss me again? For real."

"When do you want to?" you challenge back, and despite the pink of your cheeks, Wanda doesn't hesitate.

"Now."

You chuckle, pulling away. You open the door just before Erik comes up the stairs, and he grimaces, but you are already leaving the room. Before you do, you turn and offer a wink to Wanda, who once she is left in the room alone, sinks her face into her pillows, trying to make her heart stop beating so fast.

–//–

You wanted to take things slow with Wanda because in your experience, too fast burns and wears out at the same speed.

It is, however, quite difficult to keep your eyes off her.

Especially when she looks so irresistible in her cheer uniform.

"You're drooling." Yelena sneers beside you under the bleachers as you both skip chemistry class so she can smoke away from any teacher's attention.

"I definitely am." You retort without any concern, your gaze focused on the brunette from meters away. Yelena laughs dryly, taking a long drag on her cigarette. 

"When are you going to make it official?"

"Why, so we can end up like Nat and Carol, fighting about the damn weather." You retort half impatiently, and Yelena hesitates a moment. She puffs smoke before answering.

"Carol cheated on Nat." She declares, and you gasp in surprise, looking at your friend with wide eyes. She shrugs her shoulders. "It was with a girl from State, at last year's championship. Nat tried to forgive her, but it''s been the same since summer. They're not fighting because of the weather, they're fighting because they're lying to each other."

You bite your tongue, turning your gaze back to Wanda in the field. She looks beautiful and giggles excitedly with her teammates when she gets her steps right.

"That doesn't make me feel confident about your suggestion, Lena." You murmur to her, and Yelena laughs lightly, taking one last drag before throwing the cigarette on the ground. 

"Not every relationship sucks, Y/N." She begins. "Not everyone gets divorced like your parents, and not everyone cheats like my sister's girlfriend. Just look at me and Kate. I fucking love her, and I can't wait for us to be living in the same apartment."

You smile small. "I never said I loved anyone."

Yelena rolls her eyes, laughing softly. "It's in your face. And look where you are, simping over her while skipping class instead of doing anything else."

It's your turn to roll your eyes, a soft pink filling your cheek at being caught. "Shut up or I'll tell Kate you're looking for a place without her help."

Yelena laughs, "And I'll tell Maximoff that you're a stalker."

You grunt impatiently, leaving muttering that the field is a free-for-all, and missing the way Wanda looks through the rails to where you were sitting before.

As the weeks went by, and with the clear yet casual involvement between you, it was obvious to everyone how much influence you had in each other's lives.

You started showing up to more classes, and Wanda stole your leather jacket for her and learned to say no to her father when you learned to show up at family dinners.

She borrowed your clothes with the excuse that they smelled like you, and you brought home her classic DVDs almost every weekend.

And there was also a matching set of hickeys on your necks.

"Wanda, your father looks ready to blow up this car." You reminded her with a breathless giggle against her lips - because she insisted that you kiss her properly - before you dropped her off at home. She grunted impatiently, grabbing your chin so that you would take your attention away from the man with his arms crossed in the driveway, and focus on the girl sitting in the car seat gifted by your father after you said you had sent admission letters to colleges not so far from Wanda.

"I want to ask you something." She says, kissing you again briefly. "Do you want to sleep over at my place this weekend?"

You hum, kissing her again before retorting, "Is it some special occasion?"

She smiles, shaking her head. "Just missing you. And... it's the race finals weekend, so Dad and Pietro are traveling and we'll have the house to ourselves."

You choke softly, caught by surprise that it is Wanda suggesting such a thing. But she seems genuinely naive about it, waiting for your response. 

"Hmm, and what would we do with the house to ourselves...?" You tease, rubbing your nose against hers and Wanda chuckles shyly, one hand going up to your neck.

"I suppose whatever we want." She replies, and you smile before kissing her again, this time goodbye.

–//–

It seemed to take a lifetime, but the weekend finally arrived.

Wanda doesn't know why she was so nervous. You had been alone before, between classes, at movie screenings, at snack bars, or bowling alleys.

But then she remembered the feeling of your lips pressing against hers, the panting whispers that made her skin itch, and the way her knees gave way when your hands got bold and she guessed she knew very well why.

She prepares a typical movie session, all the food, and comfy pillows, and you praise her for her dedication before pressing her against the bedroom door.

Wanda loves those hungry kisses - they heat up her body like a furnace, and always leave her wanting more. And today you seem willing to give her as much as she needs.

Your mouth parted from hers only to trail along her jaw, marking your way down and Wanda already panting, threw her head back against the wood, shivering under your rough touch around her body.

"I drove all the way down here thinking about kissing you, princess." You confess huskily against her ear, and Wanda blushes heavily, a low moan escaping her throat. "You're making me crazy, Wanda. I can't stop thinking about you."

"I think about you too." She confesses equally affected, only to gasp when you press a knee between her legs and everything burns, and she can't control the sounds that escape from there, not when you move your hands to her waist and make her grind against your thigh next. "Oh. That feels so nice..." She whimpers overwhelmed by the sensations, and you gently bite the sensitive spot on her neck.

"If you want something, you're going to have to ask for it." You whisper, and Wanda moans in response, her nails digging into your arms.

"Please, Y/N. I just need...you to touch me." She tries with her cheeks burning as much as the rest of her body, her hips never failing against your thigh and making you shiver.

"I'm all over you, pretty girl." You tease back, meeting her gaze and swallowing Wanda's breathless moans with your mouth with each movement of her hips. "Unless you want me to touch you somewhere else..."

"You know I want to." She retorts naughtily, and to that, you bite her lip, a gentle tug that makes her choke on a moan.

"Don't be a smart-ass." You warn, sliding a hand to her thigh to pull it up, and the adjustment makes Wanda see stars. "You can't even tell me to fuck your pussy."

She whimpers at the teasing, closing her eyes and throwing her forehead against your shoulder. You laugh smugly as the wetness begins to stain your pants.

"Baby, please..." She whimpers again, urging her body against you. Her hips are out of rhythm, and the covered stimulation is delicious, but still not enough. She just needs some kind of push that you seem to know what it is and won't grant her. 

Instead of answering her, you grab her neck and kiss her hard, adjusting your body to hers until Wanda feels a hardness and jerks up with a surprised, affected squeal.

"It's a gift that I bought especially for you. if you're ready for it, of course." You clarify breathlessly, and she nods immediately, interlacing her hands behind your neck. But you kiss her slowly now and move your other hand down to lift Wanda between the door and your lap so that she now grinds directly against the strap instead of your thigh. She gasps in a whimper, meeting your eyes again as you break the kiss. " Fuck, you're so close and I haven't even touched you yet."

You were absolutely right. The knot in Wanda's belly was ready to explode at any moment, and when you slid your hand down to open your zipper, and the fake cock slipped out, the new pressure made Wanda growl hornily, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

You didn't penetrate her, letting her grind her covered intimacy against the toy until the moisture was enough to wet it. By now Wanda was jerking, holding you by the shoulders as you moved your hips against her. The strap pressed against her clit, sliding in a torturous back and forth over her covered pussy, and you seemed to be having the time of your life driving her to the brink of insanity with that tease.

"Y/N-fuck-I want-need it... inside-ah" She tried, delirious with anticipation, ever so close, and you panted softly in her ear.

"I love it when you cuss, it's so hot." You praise, slowing down and making Wanda moan loudly, her clit throbbing. "If you can ask me what you want, I'll do it."

Wanda whimpers affectedly, her cheeks blushing again. She is almost building up courage when you curse in her ear trapped in your own pleasure, and she is cumming instead of saying anything.

It is an overwhelming pleasure, almost terrifying her. She grabs you to keep from falling to the floor, dripping onto her panties. You grunt as you realize what has just happened and only give Wanda time to stop shaking before you get down on your knees.

"Babe, what are you...?" She falls silent as she chokes on her own breath, throwing her head back hard as her hips try to escape from your hands that hold her just for that. You press your nose against her covered intimacy, sniffing with a loud groan as Wanda whimpers. You don't give her time to complain before you move a hand to push the fabric away and sink your tongue into her.

Wanda practically screams, and you groan as you taste her. You fuck her messily, hungrily as you take your tongue between the folds of her pussy, pushing deep and then shallow to make her twitch, and when you suck on her clit she brings a hand to her hair.

"Oh-OH-blyat', tak khorosho!" Wanda gasps, and you groan as you hear her cursing in another language. It just encourages you to keep going, and this time, you won't stop until you get it out of her again. 

It didn't take long - Wanda was sensitive and you only had to slide your tongue inside and suck her clit a few times for her to spill into your mouth with a long moan, her nails digging into your scalp. You moaned too, delighting in her taste and licking her clean before making your way up again.

"That was..." She tries breathlessly, her eyes lazy, and you smile, kissing her and making her grunt for her own taste before turning into a surprised yelp when you take her by the thighs and lift her onto your lap.

"We're not done, pretty girl." You clarify between kisses on the way to the bed. When you place Wanda on the mattress, her hair spreads across the pillow and she stares at you with dark eyes, her chest heaving. You pause, momentarily speechless as you realize how much you care for her.

"Everything okay?" She asks at your hesitation, and you smile immediately, nodding and moving closer to kiss her with intensity. Wanda melts, trying to pull you up but you gently push her by the shoulders.

She thinks to question, but your hand traces its way between her thighs and any question becomes an affected whimper.

"The toy is small, but I still need to stretch you with my fingers." You whisper with a naturalness that doesn't match the way Wanda blushes heavily. She merely nods, shivering under your fingers scratching and teasing around the inner part of her thighs. "You'll tell me if it hurts, won't you, pretty girl?"

She nods frantically, choking softly. "Y-yes, but please, just..." The teasing was driving her insane, your fingers only touching around, never where she desperately needed it. "Please, Y/N, touch me."

You shushed her gently, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw, and when you got to her neck and started sucking on the sensitive spots that made her squirm on the bed, your fingers find her intimacy and penetrated her.

Wanda whimpered, closing her eyes tightly to the invasion. One at first, and then you slid out, and when you came back, two sank into her and she bit your shoulder.

"Tell me when you're ready." You whispered into her neck, moving your thumb to stimulate her clitoris, and Wanda throbbed beneath you. After two orgasms, she was really quite sensitive, but that only made it better. "Wands?"

She sighed, opening her eyes to find your worried ones. Instead of answering, she brought one hand to your cheek and another to the wrist connected between you. She brought your lips together at the same time she moved her hips, and you took the cue, sliding your fingers out and then in to find a rhythm.

Wanda whimpered once you got it, with each thrust she gasped at the kiss becoming harder to return, but once you felt her close again, you stopped.

She grunted confused and annoyed, but you adjusted before she could say anything, and any complaint broke down into an affected moan as you lined up the strap on her and sank in at once.

"Ah, I knew you could take it, pretty girl." You praised her, in a slow rhythm against her as Wanda squirmed and dug her nails into your back, desperate for more. "Damn, you look so beautiful now."

Wanda's moans mingled with the sounds of the thrusts inside her, the wetness of her pussy creating a delicious friction. You firmed your hands on her waist, pushing deeper, and she arched her back, ready to fall over the edge. You fell over her, hugging her and kissing the skin of her exposed collarbone, and Wanda whimpered, moaning under you.

She let out a little squeal, and her body tensed and you gasped against her neck as you came too, your juices mixing and dripping down her thighs.

You stood there for a moment, just breathing against each other as you calmed from your climax, and you smiled as you felt Wanda draw patterns on your back.

Unhurriedly, you moved off her, biting your lips at the image of the soaked toy and the sigh that left her lips as she felt empty before you pulled away.

Wanda looks at you expectantly at once, missing your body on top of her.

"Where are you going?" She asks in a half-hoarse voice, but you smile, now standing in front of the bed, you begin to remove your pants.

"You came three times and we didn't even get to take our clothes off. I'm kind of impressed."  You humorously clarify, and Wanda giggles shyly, biting her lips as you take off your clothes in front of her. "How would you like to take a shower with me? And then, lend me something comfy so we can watch the movie you've picked up?"

She finds it incredible, honestly, but once you are completely naked in front of her, Wanda can only sigh and move closer again. She brings a hand to your neck and kisses you hard.

"Later. Now, I want you to do that thing with your tongue again." She asks with a sigh and well, it's not like you're going to complain.

–//–

You awoke to rays of sunlight on your face and a warm feeling on the tip of your stomach.

"Wands...oh...don't stop that." Your natural instinct was to call out to her, but it turned into something like a moan and a sigh as you felt the pleasure electrify your whole body at once. Wanda smiled against you, looking up at you as her hands held your thighs open for her. You squirmed on the mattress, barely finding time to grab her hair before you cum hard on her tongue. "Fuck, baby, that was amazing."

She giggles softly against you, kissing your thighs before moving up your body until she finds your mouth again. It takes a moment for you to recover from the orgasm and wake up properly, but when you do, your hands go around her and you spin Wanda around on the bed, getting on top quickly as she smiles.

"You're a fast learner." You comment against her jaw, tracing kisses downward. "I don't think I've ever cum so fast before..."

But suddenly, Wanda tenses and your hand guides your face back to her.

"I don't want to think about it." She says almost irritated, and you frown in confusion, "You with other people."

A smile breaks on your lips. " Hmm, is that right?"

But Wanda doesn't smile, sliding her legs between yours to switch positions and push you on your back on the bed, straddling your lap the next minute. Her hands at the side of your head, and her hair makes a curtain between your faces.

"I want you to be mine, Y/N. As I am yours." She whispers hoarsely, her gaze intense on yours. You blink impressed but are smiling.

"And who says I'm not already?" You challenge back, moving your hands to her hips and enjoying the feel of her intimacy against your thigh. Her breasts look incredible like this too, covered only by the half-open shirt of yours that she must have stolen during the night.  

Wanda studies your face as she risks, "You never made us official, I thought..."

You bring a hand to her cheek as she lowers her head in shame. "Wands, and who says labels are the only thing that makes us official?"

Wanda shrugs, looking away, "I don't know, it's just that the cheer girls have their partners, and they're always talking about going to college together or buying apartments and-"

You straighten up, sitting up and pulling her closer.

"We'll do all that if that's what you want." You tell her with sincerity. "We'll go to NYU together, and rent an apartment. And I'll buy you a shiny ring so everyone will know we're together."

Wanda smiles, blushing as she wraps her arms around you.

"But what do you want?"

You smile warmly, brushing your nose against hers. "Sweetheart, I just want you." You retort caressing her skin. "I don't care about social norms, I just want to be able to kiss and wake up with you every day. If you want a ring, let's buy a ring. If you want to meet me in secret so as not to upset your father, I'll accept that too."

Wanda chuckles softly, pecking your jaw and then your lips.

"There's no way I'm keeping you a secret, you're the best thing that ever happened to me." She confesses and you kiss her, again and again until she starts to heat up on you, breathless whispers leaving her lips with each kiss. 

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me too, Wands." You retort to her before deepening the next kiss, and this time, you don't stop.

[fountainpenguin]

People have been asking me for the link to Joel's Neck Kisses playlist since I off-handed mentioned it in some tags- it was something I'd seen someone else post about, but wasn't sure I'd find again.

I don't actually know how to use Spotify and wasn't going to bother looking for it because of that, but I decided to go searching today... Anyway, the whiplash is cracking me up:

Please tell me "Artist" is just what Spotify calls people who organize music in playlists, because if I'm about to find out that Joel wrote an actual song about Neck Kisses, I will simply be SO flummoxed.

Upon investigation, it looks like he's on here because he sang "Reel Love" in the Empires SMP Musical. Why did he come up when I searched neck kisses tho... Joel...

I did find it! Here it is: "Oh no, tumblr found my neck kisses playlist" - organized by joel.beanss

Etho in that one clip roleplaying that he was swooning as Joel got close to him, but he should "cover up his neck" before Joel kisses him, and then narrating that Joel's hand was "slowly reaching into his hair" while Joel just giggled and sputtered and yelled about how he doesn't kiss people's necks, you will always be famous to me.

I'm glad you're having fun being silly with your friends, nerds <3

Disclaimer: I have not listened to these songs and I assume some are not for all ages. I'm putting this in the tags for sharing and personal blog organizing purposes, but listen at your own discretion!

[marthawrites]

Pretty Girl

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 6.8k+

About: There's been some weird stuff happening in the woods and your boss buys top of the line security cameras. You definitely weren't expecting to hit it off so well with the tech guy who is much more than a tech guy.

Includes: Meeting, first date, some drinking, explicit sexual content (fem receiving oral, p in v)

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is my first modern Aemond story. This idea has been rolling around my head for a good month or two. I wasn't expecting to go so deep, but the ideas kept coming and I ran with them! Reader is nondescript and implied to be 21+ due to alcohol consumption. As always, please enjoy! ♥

read pt 2 here

-

The bright chime of your text tone cut through the mellow voiced narrator of your current podcast obsession: supposed real life horror stories. Perhaps not the smartest thing to listen to while alone ten miles deep into the forest in the ranger's cabin. But, whatever. What's life without a little risk, anyway? Swiping your screen open revealed your boss' message.

Hey kid. Running late. That tech guy is scheduled to be there for the installation at 9:30. We had a minor family emergency here. Everything is fine. I'm working to head out within the hour. Text you when I'm on the road.

It was already 9 and you knew there wasn't a chance in hell Joey would be there by the time the install person showed up. Great. You ran a hand down your face and, since you were alone, didn't fight the groan that adamantly broke free. Customer service – this could be considered customer service, right? – was never your forte. There was a reason you went to school for forestry. Mostly so you wouldn't have to deal with customers on the regular. You texted back:

I'm glad everything is fine! But, if I end up ax murdered by this freak I'm going to haunt you forever. Also, you're to take care of Charles. He's very needy.

A minute later the chime broke the podcaster's voice again:

Oh please. They're a very respectable family. How is a fish needy? Don't they just need tap water?

You laughed out loud, reading the message in Joey's rumbling baritone.

That's right, boss. Tap water and cheerios!

When you didn't hear back from him within the next few minutes you could only assume he started driving.

You had a good twenty minutes to kill while waiting for this person and weren't quite sure how to spend your time. A cool early-spring rain poured all morning, and an angry late-winter wind sent the trees swaying all around. You weren't going out there if you didn't have to. In fact, you threw another log into the wood stove and brewed up a fresh pot of coffee. No reason to stress about trying to look busy when you knew your boss would be doing the same thing if he were here with you waiting.

Once the coffee was finished you fixed yourself a cup and sat by the fire, completely absorbed by the tale in your ear: friends camping with no one else around, being taunted by something. A truly unsettling tale regardless it it were paranormal, a druggie, or a stalker.

A knock on the front door nearly sent the remainder of your hot beverage spilling and your fingers visibly trembled as they touched your earbud to pause the story. Jesus Christ. Did the person arrive in a fucking spaceship? You didn't hear anything coming up the gravel road nor parking in the gravel lot. Taking a few deep breaths to settle your racing nerves, you stood and walked to the door. You cracked it open to the width of your head, just enough to see the person standing on the, thankfully, well covered porch. “Can I help you?”

“Hm. You don't look like a Joey Wagner,” the man on the porch mat said, a single pale brow arching.

Holy shit. He was really handsome. “No. He's my boss. I'm one of the forest rangers beneath him. What can I help you with?” You opened the door wider in an attempt to get a sight of whatever vehicle he showed up in. Despite not having much knowledge in cars, you knew that “T” anywhere. So, you were right: he might as well have shown up in a spaceship.

“I'm Aemond Targaryen. I'm here to install the Vhagar security system and cameras,” he paused and looked around, curious of the exterior of the ranger's lodge and surrounding woods. “I'm.. a... I'm a little surprised you want such a system here.”

“You and me both. Apparently it's your best one, right? I dunno what's been spooking Joey but whatever it is must be pretty weird. That thing's probably my entire yearly salary and then some,” you laughed dryly, gesturing to the briefcase he held. “I'm Y/N,” you added with a smile. “He's running late this morning, but told me you'd be here. I was expecting someone more, uhm...,” you tilted your head and closed one eye as if you were looking at him through a telescope. “Nerdy?” You mused aloud, nose scrunching with the somewhat embarrassing admission.

That sent a grin across his face. His chin tilted up as he regarded you down the long straight line of his nose. “I could say the same about you and forest rangers.”

Beneath your green and tan uniform your skin prickled. Something in you thrummed. This was bad news. Very bad news. When the hell was Joey going to be here? You tried to shake off the sensation his sweeping gaze gave you. He had a long paling scar over his the right side of his angular chiseled face, and there seemed to be something off about his right eye too. You didn't say anything about it and tried not to stare. “Anyway, wanna get started? It's warmer in here, I promise,” you gestured a thumb over your shoulder and swung the door wide so he might step inside.

“Yeah, thanks. It'll take awhile to get all finished. The rest of today and maybe half of tomorrow or so, too,” he admitted as he strode inside.

You whistled lowly at that – at his remark, not his backside – unaware it'd be such an ordeal. “That long?” His hair was long and beautiful in a way you didn't often see men wear their hair; so blonde it was a silvery-white. He had it pulled back in a simple ponytail. It hung a little loose and you couldn't help but wonder if he put it up in haste this morning. Aside from his Adidas shoes (which stuck out adorably, you thought to yourself), he wore all dark colors. Blacks, grays, and only the barest hints of white. Jacket, sweater, the neck of what you assumed was a t-shirt, and straight legged pants. Casually and mindfully layered.

Inside was much warmer, indeed. So much so that Aemond immediately took his jacket off. The simple gesture sent clean laundry and the faintest trace of cologne wafting your way; the fine muscles behind your ears flexed with the reveal. His sweater looked unbearably soft and you hated yourself for being so drawn to a man you literally just met three minutes ago. He was unfairly good-looking, yeah, but what if he was a jerk too because of it? "You weren't lying," he said, giving you a glance from his left side. "It's cozy. Is it just you here?"

You gestured him to follow you through the place. "For now, yeah. Here's the security room. Everything's open and unlocked so you should be able to do whatever you need to. Joey will be here eventually." The room was a little cramped with multiple monitors, desks, cabinets, and general clutter; papers, writing things, wrappers, cups, the like. "Oh shit. Sorry sorry. I should have cleaned it up. I didn't realize the boss left it such a mess," heat rose in your cheeks as you rolled your eyes, annoyed.

"I'm not worried," he replied calmly, seemingly unbothered by the mess. Taking advantage of a clean space you just cleaned, he placed the briefcase atop it and opened it up. With your back to him he found himself giving you another glance or two, grinning privately. How could someone make that uniform look so good?

"Care for coffee or water?" You asked, all the counter space now clear of clutter. Various wrappers crinkled in your pockets and you held four empty cups between both hands.

"Coffee, please. Black," he answered.

You pushed the door further open with the help of your foot and butt, leaving Aemond alone to get started on the lengthy process. Once in the kitchen you gave yourself a few extra minutes to collect yourself. Frankly, you felt half-silly for being so enamored by this tall, lithe, long haired stranger. He probably had a girlfriend back home!

"Here you are," you said upon returning, placing a mug down for him.

"Thank you," he said, turning his gaze up to you appreciatively. "Do you ever see weird things on these in the middle of the night?"

Instead of sitting down you opted to stand with one hand on your hip and the other flat atop the desk. You leaned against the edge and turned your head to look over the various monitors in an attempt to not stare at him. "Sometimes," you answered honestly, weighing how much you wanted to divulge. "Lights with no apparent light source are a more common occurance. Sick animals can look extremely strange," you paused and chuckled nervously. "Of course, there's always random homeless people, vagabonds, and even drunk or drugged out people." From your peripheral you realized he hadn't taken his eyes off you and it sent a shudder of embarrassment down your back. Did you have something on your face? "What?" You asked, turning your attention to him, then, breath catching in your throat.

It was his turn for color to creep in his cheeks. "Ugh. I was staring, huh? Sorry. You're just, uh... really pretty," he said, caught and guilty, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was expecting a Joey to match that deep voice on the phone. Not like a Dawson's Creek Joey."

Before you had a chance to reply the front door swung open and the booming voice of the actual Joey called, "hey, hey, so sorry to be late! Damn dog killed another squirrel and my youngest was the one to find it. Poor thing nearly had a panic attack."

"Oh damn. Sorry to hear that, boss," you hollered back, cringing.

"Hard lessons for kids to learn," he said, appearing in the doorway sipping on his own cup. He was a big man and easily took up the whole width of it, and the chair he sat upon groaned beneath his weight. "Enough of that though! If it isn't Aemond Targaryen of Dragon Security! I was surprised as shit to hear it'd be you installing these. Don't you normally have grunts to do this work?"

Aemond chuffed and shook the older man's massive hand. "Usually, yeah. My dad's fixing to retire soon and my older brother doesn't want to take up the mantle. So here I am doing boots-on-the-ground training to get a feel of things before taking his place."

"Good boy! You'll be the youngest wealthiest mother fucker around!" He belly laughed and clapped his free hand atop Aemond's. "Now! Walk me through this. This ain't no joke. There's been some wild shit going on and I intend to catch whatever it is. If I get famous I'll be sure to mention you too, boy," he drank half his coffee in a single chug and put his game face on.

"I've got rounds to make. I'll check on you guys in a couple hours," you said with a grin. You lingered on Aemond a moment longer. When you caught his gaze you give him a little look, letting him know you heard him and thought similairly. At least, you hoped that's what you silently communicated.

You never believed in love at first sight. But, lust at first sight? Maybe that's what burned low in your belly.

Through the single window he watched you jump into one of the ranger's newer model orange jeeps. A perfect ride for out here, he thought, distracted as you backed the wrangler out and drove away – a stark difference to his Tesla.

-

Your rounds took much longer than originally anticipated and you didn't return until nearly 5 o'clock. Thankfully, the turn of seasons was happening and it was still light outside. Pulling in to park you were surprised to see Aemond's car still in the same spot. It seemed the day was longer than anticipated all around! With the assistance of your visor mirror you took your hair down and ran your fingers through it, glad to finally let it fall free after a day's work. Joey was still here too, and you wanted to at least say bye to him before leaving for the night. You hopped out and started making your way in that direction.

"I'm right here, don't let me startle you," the unfamiliar voice of Aemond called from the tree line. Thank God he said something because he would have startled you out there.

You let out a half strangled laugh. "Thanks for the heads up. But, what are you doing?" You asked, curious steps walking in his direction. He was on a ladder about halfway up a tree. Each time he reached up the hem of his shirt lifted to flash a peek of the pale skin of his lean abdomen and slender hips. Damnit. He must have ditched his sweater sometime ago for he only wore his plain white t-shirt now.

"Just finishing getting the cameras up. Twenty-four in total across the nearest five miles or so," he replied with a final click. "There." Despite the chilly temperature sweat still glistened on his face and neck. He tipped his head down and rolled his bicep up at the same time, using the arm of his tee to wipe his brow. As he came down the ladder you saw his ponytail was replaced by a sloppy bun instead. Loose strands stuck to the dampness of his skin, and some of the more wispy fly-aways stuck out at varying directions. If you thought him handsome before, he, somehow, was even more so now.

"Joey made you do that all by yourself!?" Five miles of carrying ladders and equipment? You wanted to smack your boss.

He shook his head as he landed on both feet, momentarily breathless. "No. We've been together until just, oh, maybe fifteen minutes ago. Wife called him," he gestured to the lodge.

"Oh. Good! I was gonna kick his ass." Secondhand tiredness crept into your bones. "I'm gonna go say bye before heading out. Need help with anything?"

He shook his head for a second time. "I don't think so. Mostly just want to get back to the hotel and shower. I feel disgusting." Lifting up the neckline of his shirt he used it to wipe his face dry, thankful to finally be on the ground to do so without fear of falling off. "And I am starving. What's the best place to eat around here?"

Was he fishing or were you wishing? "There's a really good sandwich place just as you're getting into town. That's where I'm stopping to get dinner anyway," you smiled, belly rumbling loudly in answer.

He sighed contentedly at the idea. "I'll be hitting it up, thanks. If I didn't have to stay and finish a few things I'd ask to meet you there, but...," he paused, eyeing your reaction. You didn't say anything, yet he must have caught the excited glimmer in your eyes. "Maybe next time."

You smiled and unintentionally fluffed your hair up from the roots, hip propped out with your casual stance. "Sounds fun. Good night, Aemond. Drive safe," you said before turning and walking with a little too much purpose to the lodge, gravel crunching beneath your heavy work boots.

"Hey, Y/N," he called after you after a moment, long strides closing the distance between you. When you stopped and let him catch up, he asked, "can I get your number? So I can warn you when I'm here tomorrow. You looked a little scared this morning. Don't wanna do that again." His features remained neutral. His eyes (eye? that one seemed almost completely unresponsive and you weren't sure if it was even real), however, sparked with a mischief that sent your stomach flipping. Obviously you barely knew the guy, but you swore his voice dropped a little lower with the new closeness.

You exhaled. "I was that obvious? Dang. I was hoping I played it off more cool," you tsked yourself beneath your breath, pulling your phone from its pocket. He did the same and you both swiped them open to exchange numbers. His thumb tapped a few times on the screen and your phone dinged. 'Aemond' appeared at the top and a single dragon emoji was the only thing his text read. Despite yourself, you smirked.

"See you in the morning, ranger girl."

-

The next morning you found yourself fixing another fire and pot of coffee, peacefully idle and waiting for the others to arrive. Your phone chimed. It was a message and photo from Aemond.

Hope you're hungry. The girls at your fave sandwich place knew your order. On my way now.

Attached was a photo of a paper food bag seat belted into his passenger seat. Something more than excitement rose in your belly and you actually giggled. Handsome and sweet? No way he was single.

Fifteen minutes later he arrived with a soft knock. "You didn't have to get me breakfast. Way too kind of you, honestly."

He squinted and smirked softly. "Good morning to you as well." He stepped inside and closed the door behind, happy to be where it was warm. "It really wasn't a bother. Gives me an excuse to spend a little more time with you," he winked.

"Were your ears tingling last night? I only thought about texting you fifty times, at least," you admitted, flirting back.

"Should have. Hotels by yourself are terribly boring."

You two ate fully loaded breakfast sandwiches and you were more than a little surprised he ate all of his. Those things were huge! Before any time at all passed, it was already noon and you and Aemond had chatted the morning away in the security room. Everything seemed to be working well. He'd done a fantastic job at setting the cameras up yesterday and Joey beamed in excitement.

"I need to do my rounds before I don't. Catch you both later," you said reluctantly.

Just as you were stepping out of the room, Aemond called after you, "hey Y/N! Before you go..." His face spelled mischief. You arched a brow at him, waiting. "About Lord of the Rings and Frodo's journey...," – your conversation a few tangents ago – "why didn't Gandalf just call the eagles for them to fly to Mordor? Seems like that would have been a lot faster and smarter."

You were dumbfounded. "Excuse me?" You asked, fluttering a series of blasphemous blinks at him. "Seriously Aemond? And here I thought we were vibing. We're not friends anymore." You slammed the door but not before flipping him off. With both middle fingers. In the hallway you snorted and laughed in disbelief.

The door did little to block Aemond and Joey's uproar of laughter.

Handsome, sweet, and a jerk in good humor? How dare him!

-

The next day you didn't hear from Aemond, and you weren't going to lie to yourself: it kind of sucked. Despite knowing him for so brief a time, you missed him!

Thankfully, it was time for your weekend though. It was full dark by now and you were worn out from the week. You quickly changed into pajamas and flopped on your bed to find something to watch. Settling on reruns of one of your favorite shows, you found yourself staring at the black screen of your phone. Should you text him? As if your thoughts had traveled miles away right into Aemond's brain, it chimed with his message.

Hey ranger girl. I wanted to swing by the lodge today but wasn't able to. I'm in town for a few more days and was wondering if I could take you out to dinner before I go?

Holy shit holy shit holy shit. You texted back embarrassingly fast.

Only if you swear to never talk bad about LotR again.

Pinky promise. Tonight?

You looked down at yourself and snorted.

Definitely not, sorry. Tomorrow?

Yes. God I can't wait to see you out of that dorky uniform.

You had nothing appropriate to say and left him on read, lest you say something humiliating you'd regret.

-

The following evening was a clear cool night and you were glad you wore pants instead of a dress, and a leather jacket instead of a cardigan. Part of you was sad to leave the toasty confines of your 4-Runner, but it quickly dissolved once you saw Aemond standing outside the bar and grill restaurant talking to someone on his phone. He wore an elevated version of the outfit you originally met him in. What caught you off-guard, however, was his hair. Those long silvery-white tresses were pulled back into an intricate braid and you couldn't help but gawk. He looked devastatingly handsome. You saw him notice you, and butterflies turned in your belly at the heat and weight of his gaze.

"A leather jack and red lipstick? How did you know that was my favorite?" he asked as you hopped up next to him, twirling playfully for his attention. "Shit, you're lovely. I'm so glad you said yes to this."

You smiled at him, pretty white teeth beaming as you tired to reel your excitement in. "So are you. I'm going to have to sit on your lap so no other girls think you're free for the taking," you half cooed, black lashes giving your eyes an opened appearance that only elevated your playfulness.

He hummed and gave you a long look, tilting his head in direction of the entrance. "You'll get no argument." He reached out and you took his hand, suddenly bashful as his long fingers laced between yours. His palm was very warm; thoughts and images filled your mind of those hands all across your bare skin. The natural bow of his mouth lifted in a little smirk.

The restaurant was fairly busy tonight: you were lucky to snag a booth by the window. You both ordered a drink and agreed to skip the appetizer to instead indulge on something from their dessert menu. Him, an old fashioned bourbon, and you, a gin with pomegranate liqueur and lemon juice. Conversation flowed easily while you waited, the ambiance of the restaurant absorbing both of you in with ease.

With the help of a little liquid courage, you found yourself asking a question that'd been on your mind since first meeting. "I gotta ask," you started, looking over the scarred half of his face curiously. "What happened?" You gestured over your own face letting him know what you meant.

He briefly bit at his bottom lip. "Childhood accident," he answered with a sigh. "It was pretty brutal, actually," he added with a dry half-laugh. "One of my nephews got me with a knife. We were wild boys. Them moreso than me, but still, wild like boys can get. I ended up loosing my right eye and opted to get a prosthetic one instead of having an empty socket."

You gasped, truly in shock, and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "Oh my God, Aemond. That's horrible."

He wasn't hot or sweaty, but your skin was delightfully cooler than his and he got more comfort out of it than you realized. "It was. The scar actually looks much better now than in the past. I've learned to live with it well enough. Driving is sometimes a struggle because of it, though. That was a big learning curve."

The waiter came back for your food order. Aemond chose the pork tenderloin with apricot almond chutney, herb roasted potatoes, and broccoli, and you chose the crusted ahi with cucumber, bell pepper, and red onion salad topped with a ginger soy vinaigrette – with no onion. Red onions, raw or cooked, destroyed your palette.

Both of your drinks were nearly gone by then; you couldn't speak for Aemond, but you were definitely feeling looser. Not drunk by any means, but a warm buzz that blushed your cheeks, hooded your eyes, and made your smile all the easier. "So, Aemond Targaryen of Dragon Security, what else do you do in and outside of your work?"

"You looking like that across from me is making focus very difficult," he replied, idly trailing the tip of his finger around the rim of his glass. He leaned back and flashed you a little smirk, the lovely color of his eye seeming to shrink. "It's a family business. We make high quality security cameras. My brother's invention, the Sunfyre system, specializes in daytime monitoring, and my sister's invention, the Dreamfyre system, specializes in nighttime monitoring." He sipped at his drink, wetting his lips with the smooth, fragrant liquor. "And mine, the Vhagar system, takes and elevates both. The beefest and strongest system by far. So, whatever your boss wants to find in those woods, he'll have the absolute best chance with what I set up for him."

You listened, genuinely interested, and did your very best to focus on his words and not the he sat across from you. "Honestly that's an entirely different world than anything I know," you shook your head amusedly. "Gross rich people stuff."

You continued talking about it until your meal came. It looked and smelled divine. "I'll check on you again shortly," the waiter said with a wide handsome smile.

Sticking out like a sore thumb was a pile of red onions atop your salad. All it took was a single glance between you and Aemond for him to know you wouldn't mention anything about it to the waiter – instead choosing to pluck them off your plate and try to enjoy your dinner regardless.

He wasn't about to let that happen. "She asked for no onions," Aemond said flatly up to the other man, one of his pale brows arching up in silent judgment.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Let me have them remake it for you," the waiter said apologetically, disappearing with the plate quicker than you could say it's okay.

You wanted to sink down into the booth and disappear. Before you could stop giggling, and before Aemond could wipe the smug expression off his face, your new plate arrived. As well as a refill of your drinks.

"Her entree and both beverages are on the house tonight," the waiter said brightly as he placed everything down. You reached for the drink and sipped appreciatively.

"Just a refill for the lady, thank you. I'm driving," Aemond said with a hint of that same expression as before. That worked for the waiter and he was off again, busy with other tables. "Hey," he muttered to you, lower and softer than you've heard him before. He scooted closer to the window and patted the spot next to him. "Come sit by me, pretty girl."

An excited blush crept into your cheeks as you did so, and you leaned your knee against his beneath the table. His free arm draped across the back of the booth, engulfing you with the warmness of himself. You both ate and chatted, and you found out he travels far and wide. "French is my favorite language," you admitted blissfully. "So lovely to listen to. I can't speak it for the life of me, but listening to it?" You made an approving gesture with your hand.

"I don't quite have the accent down, but I'm fairly fluent in it...," he said, low and husky, as he tipped his head closer to yours. He whispered by your ear, and his breath fanning across your skin tickling your spine. "Je veux parler français entre tes cuisses."

A satisfied sigh escaped your lungs. You reveled in the way the natural rasp of his voice sounded with the language. "What did you say?"

"I want to speak french between your thighs."

A breath caught in your throat and you nearly choked on it. "Shut the fuck up. You did not just say that," you sputtered, immediately turning your head to meet his gaze.

He chuckled, palm trailing across your thigh beneath the table. "I did say that. And I do mean it."

"Aemond Targaryen...," you whispered in return, looking him square in the eye. You were pleasantly buzzed and the courage it gave you prompted your next movements. "Let's say we get out of here and you can show me that boring hotel room of yours." With a tilt of your head you slowly pressed your mouth to his, kissing him with the fire that began building in your core.

He hummed into the kiss and deepened the affection, holding the side of your neck with a need of his own. Pulling away, he quickly laid more than enough cash on the table, not bothering to wait for the tab.

The smear of your lipstick matched the faint stain of it on his own lips as he lead you out of the restaurant.

-

In the room, Aemond closed the door with a deliberate click and wasted little time in pushing you up against the nearest wall; your arms draped over his shoulders all the while, lips barely leaving each other. "You have no idea how bad I've wanted to do this since I first saw you at the lodge," he rasped against your mouth, kissing down your chin and throat with sloppy need. His hands were somehow all over you at once: waist, hips, ass, throat, everywhere.

You gasped, arching between him and the wall, shuddering in anticipation and excitement alike. "You should have," you murmured in reply, hands tugging off his jacket in near desperation. "I almost had a heart attack when I saw your hair in that stupid bun. I should have taken your clothes off to help you cool down right then and there," you teased in response.

A groan came from the back of his throat. "Je suis peut-être tombé amoureux," I might have fallen in love he rumbled with a smirk. You didn't know what he said but you also didn't care, because next thing you knew his teeth sunk into the slope of your neck and shoulder and you moaned. "Like being bitten?" He asked, doing it again in a slightly different spot.

"Yeah," you managed to gasp out, turning your head to entice him along. His laugh vibrated against your neck as he sucked the sensitive skin between his teeth, aiming to leave a mark. "Hey!" You gasped, giggling.

"Not gonna let you forget this, pretty girl." He tore your jacket off and threw it near his, already gripping the hem of your shirt. "Plan to make you feel it tomorrow," he added smugly, lifting your shirt off and tossing it aside. You wore one of your fun bras, lace and straps accenting the curve of your bust. "Oh, fuck, look at these beautiful tits," he groaned again, immediately bending to kiss and lick over your bare cleavage.

"You're a big talker. Are you sure you can follow through with all of that?" You questioned as if your skin wasn't already goosebumped, nipples weren't already pebbled with need, and the apex of your thighs wasn't already hot with the primal desire to be fucked and stuffed full.

He growled with your challenge, single eye looking down at you darkly. "That's the plan." In three motions he wrapped an arm around your waist, turned with you flush to him, and stepped to push you onto the bed. You landed heavily, thighs clenching as you watched him discard his shirt. He was long and lean like a swimmer, with a pale patch of hair at the center of his chest and trailing below his navel to disappear beneath his pants. A new wave of warmth pooled between your thighs and your pants felt much too tight.

"Stronger than you look too, Targaryen," you taunted, squeezing your thighs together. You looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes. Lust burned through your blood and you couldn't help the heave of your breasts.

Both his hands moved to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants to ease some of the pressure on his obvious arousal. He made no move to do anything else. "You're a big talker too." Kneeling at the edge of the bed he pulled you further down the mattress, calculating and amused. You helped him help you out of your pants, hips squirming so he could pull them down your legs. Carefully, he parted your legs and laughed a deep mocking sound. "I haven't even touched you and you're wet through your panties. So needy," he crooned, thumb barely grazing down the line of your covered slit.

You shivered, unaware and unable to bite back a whimper. "Aemond...," you gasped, the shocks his touch gave you sparking yet even more heat to pool inside you.

"And sensitive," he purred, watching your face as he continued to slowly trace along you; heavy eyed and smeared lipstick made you look all the more adorable. "Si amusant à manger. Embrasser. Lécher." So fun to eat. To kiss. To lick. He kissed the inside of your thighs in punctuation, the sounds of them sending embers up your spine. Wide hands trailed up and down your legs, over your belly, across your hips. He kissed your covered mound until the full length of your legs tightened.

"Take 'em off... move 'em to the side. Something," you panted, eyes already threatening to unfocus with the tantalizing teasing.

He had nothing to say, his mind just as clouded with lust as your own. Tugging the damp center of your panties to the side, he licked a long line up through your soaked, silky folds, groaning a hitched sound from the center of his throat.

You rolled up against him while your hands flew down to his head, fingers sinking through the smoothness of his intricate braid. Pleasure left your parted mouth.

A little moan of his own answered yours. Lick, suck, kiss. Over and over again with varying speeds and pressure, pulling more of those lovely sounds from your pretty mouth. The combination was nearly obscene; wet, lewd, eager. He carelessly pulled your panties full off and discarded them.

"Oh my God...," you drawled, gripping into his hair as he continued his delightful assault on every part of your pussy. Sucking your clit, sinking his tongue inside your saturated walls, licking over everything as if his own orgasm depended on it.

Stopping for only a moment, he reached up to the front of your bra and pulled the cups down to send your breasts spilling free. He palmed over them roughly, squeezing the soft flesh until you hissed between your teeth, body arching for his mouth's attention once more. He pinched at your nipples as his head dipped down again, hot tongue and handsome lips going right back to work.

"Yes... please, fuck! I'm so close!" Your core burned and tightened, and you were past caring if anyone in the neighboring rooms heard you.

"That's right... be a good girl and come so I can really fuck you," he hummed, delving right back in until you were trembling beneath him.

The intensity of your climax left your fingers tingling and toes curling as your thighs squeezed around his head. You were sure you'd rip some of his hair out, but the near desperate groan that left his throat told you he fucking loved it. He eased his actions on you but never truly stopped, increasing and lengthening the waves of your pleasure as you rode them out.

Once you were done, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, he finally stood and joined you on the bed. "Open the front pocket of my bag right there. Yeah, that one. Grab the condom for me," he said as he kissed over your jaw and neck, beginning to shift out of his own pants.

"I have an IUD. We're not using that bullshit," you replied cheekily, helping him out of his pants. He kicked them off and his briefs followed, and you instantly saw why he made sure you came first. Not only did he have a beautiful cock, but it was big.

"Fuck, babe, you're gonna let me come in your pretty pussy?" He asked, gripping your body to roll you onto your belly.

You moved with his prompts and nodded. "Yeah," you said and looked up at him from over your shoulder, shifting your legs to prop your ass up. It accentuated the natural curve of your spine and that sight alone would have gotten him hard.

With one hand he held onto the soft meat of your hip while the other held himself, lining up with your hot little cunt that was on full display for him. He inched in, drawing back once half of him had sunk into you, only to plunge into you all at once. "Shit...," he hissed, grip denting harshly into your flesh.

You fisted the sheets, whimpering at the absolute fullness of his cock buried in you. While nestled in you, he unclasped the back of your bra and helped you out of it, briefly lingering on the faint lines it left on your skin; an odd sort of intimacy making him appreciate the sight. "Take me," you whispered, breathless, belly slowly building up with a new coil of bliss.

Pulling his hips back, he snapped them forward against you. "Taking me so well, pretty girl," he praised. Using both hands, now, he propped you up into a better position, steadily rocking into you as he did so. The sounds that poured from your mouth were a mix of elation and lust, desire taking hold of all your senses as your body yielded to his intrusion. The way he slid in and out of you, the way your tight walls gripped around him, and the way the muffled whines that came from you each time he rammed into your deepest parts made him half insane. "Getting sooo messy, baby," his words were accented by his pelvis slamming against your upturned ass; sticky, squelching, skin on skin.

You were embarrassingly close again, eyes rolled closed. "Feels so good," you cooed from beneath, mind fully drunk on him.

"Yeah? Gonna fuck your pretty face into the mattress. Can't have you so loud that someone comes knocking," he said as he fisted into your hair, turning your head into the blankets and pillows that smelled like him. His pace grew faster, sloppier, and you knew he had to be close too. That deep sensitive spot inside you was being absolutely bullied; cockhead slammed against and past it, meeting your deepest wall, only to drag backwards along it, over and over.

"Aemond!" The mattress muffled your cry of pleasure and your second peak left you numb and weightless, mind totally blank save for the man who drove you there.

With a final push he drove into you with a guttural groan. The full length of him twitched inside your pulsating walls, coating your insides with his release. An obscene mixture of your creamy arousal and his seed oozed out from around him to dribble onto the bed. You both laughed in the aftershocks, static buzzing your brain as the lewd, heady scents of sex filled the air around you.

"Fuck, that felt good," he rasped, slowly pulling out of you and watching his cum leak from your core. "I'll get us a towel in a minute. I just need to catch my breath," he added with a lazy, glorious smile, laying flat on his back with momentary exhaustion.

You laid on your belly beside him, taking in the angles of his face and how they softened in his post-sex bliss. "No. Not yet. I'm not finished with you yet," you said slyly, pushing yourself up to flip a leg over his middle. You bent and kissed him, pushing your fingers through the damp hair from his hairline to his crown, braid no longer neat. Already half hard again, it didn't take long for him to catch his breath beneath you; fiery and refueled from your display of sensuality.

"What about you car?" He asked, biting the top of your shoulder.

"What about it? We can get it in the morning. I wanna ride this big cock."

There very well might have been some noise complaints from his room that night. Neither of you cared. Once you were both finally satisfied to the point of silliness, sleep came easy. When the morning came and he drove you back to the restaurant? You were mesmerized at how his features glowed golden with the cloudless sun.

"A 4-Runner? Lots more room in there than mine...," he teased and gave you a questioning look, testing the waters.

You hummed thoughtfully, returning his look. "Well, yeah. But, might need to put it to the test. Just to, you know, see which one is better."

-

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider a follow and reblog as I have plans to create and share more writings ♥

Here is my masterlist

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[shimmershy]

There's Only One Thing Left to Say, This Time (Undertale Fanfic)

New fanfic time! When I started writing this, I got the idea mostly because 1. I've been having trouble "moving on" from things in my own life recently and wanted to try processing it through fic and 2. it was the end of the school year for me and I had been saying a lot of goodbyes, so it felt thematically relevant. I wrote almost the entire thing impulsively at like three am a couple weeks ago and really impressed myself lol.

Chara Week Day 7: Free (I know it's over, but shhhh it still counts)

Summary:

You're having trouble saying goodbye, but the thing is that you don't have to! If you keep Resetting just before it's all over, you'll never have to be by yourself again. Right? You haven't known them long, and maybe they weren't super nice at the start, but they were there for you every step of the way. They listened to you and helped you when no one else would. You can't just let them disappear… You can't. ...But you can't keep doing this forever, Frisk. You have to let me go.

Characters: Chara and Frisk

Word count: 4,763 words

(Ao3 link in reblog!)

There's only one thing left to say this time,

I hope you're fine, goodbye.

– “Goodbye” by The Altogether

It isn’t until the third True Reset that I realize what this is all about, and when I do, I feel silly for not realizing it before.

I can still feel the way the bitterness worked its way under my skin the first time you brought everyone back. Which, is actually quite impressive on your part! Seeing as I don’t have skin anymore. I suppose it worked its way under your skin, then, because you wouldn’t stop apologizing to me in your head as you made your way through the Ruins. I should have been the one apologizing to you, Frisk. It’s no business of mine what you do with your own life, and you have no business feeling my emotions for me. This connection we have can be troubling, at times.

Still, it felt like a betrayal, and you offered me no explanation, so I could not understand.

I understood a little better when you decided to stay with Toriel for a while. Despite my obvious frustration and impatience, you sat and listened to her snail facts. You let her show you that bug-hunting spot she mentioned, and you spent time helping her run errands and letting her teach you how to cook. You even got to the point where she started giving you classes, as if you planned on staying. I assumed it was sentimentality, then. Perhaps there was something about the Underground that you didn’t want to leave behind. Maybe you weren’t ready to go back to living on the surface just yet. It’s not as if I could blame you for that one.

What I didn’t notice (and what I am noticing now), was how much attention you were giving me. And well, it’s not that I didn’t notice. I was just too busy being annoyed about it, and rightfully so. Can’t the narrator of your life narrate in peace? I do not care for superfluous conversation. And that’s not even the worst of it. Frisk, you should not be so casual about sharing control of your body, That’s like, the one thing you should never have to share. Sure, it happened one time, but I only stepped in because you were so afraid, and I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was me that the spears were getting shot at. That’s different. I will not take control of your body just to eat a slice of pie. Your pity for me is insulting.

What’s troubling is that it doesn't seem to be going away.

You take your first shivering step into Snowdin (for the fourth time, I can’t help but note) without so much as a glance behind you. This time, you left Toriel with no hesitation, and I know it’s because you know I didn’t want to stay. You’re not even trying to hide it. This is when I finally decide it’s time to confront you.

What are you doing? I ask.

“I’m…walking?” you respond, confused, through thoughts. Your boots crunch satisfyingly through the snow to prove your point. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I huff in frustration.

Frisk. Why do you keep Resetting?

This stops you (and your crunchy boots) in your tracks, and suddenly I can feel anxiety radiating off of you. You weren’t expecting me to ask you this directly.

When you don’t respond, I continue, a little bit of venom coating my words despite my best efforts. For the third time now, you have made it to the end, broken the barrier, only to start all over again. Do you not feel even the slightest bit of remorse?

“Of course I feel bad!” you’re quick to say, as if you’re surprised I would assume otherwise. “But…we’ll still get there again in the end; it’s not that big a deal.”

That’s a horrible excuse.

“Why’re you so angry about it?” Your voice comes out sharp in the frigid air.

Why are you so stubborn?

“What’re you even talking about?!”

You’re trying to delay the inevitable.

You’re about to debate me on that, too, in a defensive way rather than a genuinely angry way. But you stop, because you suddenly understand that I understand, and the anxiety returns. You continue walking after a brief hesitation.

Goodbyes are never easy, I say, as gently as I can. (It ends up sounding forced anyway.)

You ignore me, and I allow you to.

~~~

What are you going to do once you get back to the surface? Once you decide to stay?

You’ve made it to Waterfall at this point, having made it through Snowdin without much event. You’re getting a little tired of doing the same thing every time; I can tell, but you would never admit to it.

You kick a stone on the ground, watching as it disappears into the dark grass. “I dunno.” (“I dunno-”) (“-dunno-”)

Your own voice travels around you in echoes and fragments. You really shouldn’t talk out loud like this in the middle of all these echo flowers. Number one, it’s annoying, and that should be reason enough, but number two, you shouldn’t make a habit of talking out loud to the voice in your head at all. People are going to think you’re weird. And I mean, you’re already pretty weird, but do you really want the reputation of “the weird kid who talks to themself” stuck to you even after I’m gone?

I didn’t even realize you were listening to all that, but you flinch at that last part, not only mentally but physically too, and I try to ignore the fact that you’re proving my point.

I hum thoughtfully. You “don’t know”? That’s certainly an issue then, isn’t it?

You start to fidget with the hem of your sweater and return to talking to me through thoughts, much to my relief. “I just haven’t thought much about it.”

This is a lie. But I don’t point that out to you.

You’re in a part of Waterfall that you’ve never seen before. Admittedly, it’s not much different to the parts you have seen before, but the fact that it’s new at all is good enough for you. You’re trying to explore the area as much as you can this time around, because you’ve realized just how expansive Waterfall really is and the curiosity you came here with the first time still hasn’t left you. You’ve barely seen a fraction of the place, and you definitely won’t manage to see all of it, but you’re certainly going to try.

I might take this time to remind you that no matter how many times you’ve befriended her in the past, Undyne is still hunting you down in this timeline. So maybe taking the time to look at every blade of grass there is to look at isn’t the best idea. But whatever.

There are quite a few echo flowers growing in this area, as I mentioned before. It seems more secluded than the rest of the caverns that make up Waterfall, if that’s even possible. You can see the main path you usually walk from where you’re standing, separated from you by a large expanse of luminescent cyan water, and an overwhelming sense of calm washes over you. It’s like this is a little cove carved out just for you, safe from everything that may hurt you. It’s hard for me not to feel the same sense of calm. Whether it’s just the spilling over of your emotions or completely and entirely mine is hard to tell, but it doesn’t really matter.

Why don’t we sit here for a minute? I ask. You let out a breath and descend to the ground, hugging your knees and resting your head against the rough cavern walls without hesitation, as if you were waiting for me to say just that.

It’s nice to just be here, for me, with you, like this. Together. Your hands are intertwined in the way that I know means you’re trying to hold my hand, in whatever way you can. We look out at the stillness of the water, listening to the sound of rushing waterfalls in the distance. We both must be thinking about the same thing, now, because although I don’t agree with the Resets, I understand why you don’t want to leave, to some extent. Have you convinced me that you’re right? Have I felt this way the entire time and simply didn’t realize until now? I can’t say for certain. But I’m becoming increasingly aware of my own fear of reaching the end.

“Chara?” you say, voice cracking a little. The sound of my name spoken aloud and echoed around by the echo flowers startles me. “It’s just that…I really, really don’t wanna be by myself again.”

I feel tears pricking at your eyes. The honesty in your voice stings.

You won’t be by yourself, I try halfheartedly. Everyone will be up there with you.

You reposition to rest your head on your knees. “You know what I mean,” you whisper, and after a moment you say. “You’re not gonna be there.”

…Right. Of course.

That is the funny thing about good things, see. About journeys and stories. And lives. They end. Sometimes (always) too soon.

I do not know what I was expecting the first time you made it to the surface. What, was I just going to live inside your head forever? Would you want that? Would I? The strangest thing happened when you stepped over that threshold where the barrier once stood, when everyone else followed you out. I felt you pull away from me, and then I watched the back of your head as you walked out into the sun. It was a bit disorienting. I wasn’t seeing through your eyes anymore, I was just…there. Watching. Barely even there, because I couldn't feel you there justifying my existence anymore.

I don’t think there was a doubt in either of our minds about what that meant. As everyone else chatted in awe of how beautiful the sun was, you looked back at me (although I don’t think you really saw me, just the empty opening of the cave). There was confusion, or sadness, or panic on your face. I’ve never had to read your face from the outside before, what a funny thing to realize. Whatever emotion it was, it was enough to make you Reset. And then again, and again. It really was for my sake, then.

This makes me feel a strange mixture of things, but the feeling of guilt sticks out like a sore thumb. Frisk, I don’t want you to feel any sort of…obligation? Or anything? To keep me alive. I’ve been wanting to be dead for a long time.

It’s a lame attempt at humor to lighten the mood, but as soon as I think it, I realize how unfunny it sounds. It kind of stops being a joke when it’s true.

Still, you reply, “It’s not like that. You know that.”

You are making some awfully bold assumptions here, though they’re not entirely false. I’m inclined to ask, what is it like then? Would moving on with your life not be the best option here? Everything is going to work out for you. And, hey, you won’t even have to put up with an annoying ghost in your head anymore.

“What if I like the annoying ghost in my head?”

Well, then you’re weird. But we’ve already established that.

That gets a smile out of you. “See? You always make me feel better,” you think, and I want to roll my eyes at that. I want to remind you of all the times I made you feel worse rather than better, but I stay quiet for now.

“…Before I came here,” you start, eyes trained on the ground as you fidget with the grass there, “I was alone a lot. It wasn’t so bad, but…it wasn’t so good either.” You shrug one of your shoulders. “I dunno. I didn’t think about it much. I had to take care of myself, and there was never anyone there…to say it’d be okay, or to tell me dumb jokes, or just be there…y’know?”

Yeah. I do know.

…

“I kinda panicked when I left the Underground and you weren’t there. You were just…gone, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even really mean to Reset, I just didn’t think, and I-“

You sigh.

“I just really care about you. You’re like my best friend, Chara- ‘N that’s what it’s like. It’s like saying goodbye to your best friend.”

Oh.

Ha ha. Yes, I really do know that, don’t I?

“Wait, augh. I-I probably shouldn’t’ve said it like that, I’m sorry-“

No, Frisk, there is no need to apologize. It is fine. It’s fine.

Your fingernails claw into the grass and the dirt beneath.

I know. I know what you mean. I really do.

I try not to think of my brother. I fail.

I did not think you would care so much. It’s- (stupid), I want to say, but you are not stupid. (See, caring about me always gets people hurt), I want to say, but that’s not your fault. (What did you expect?), I want to say. (I don’t believe you), I want to say. (I don’t understand you), I want to say. I can’t- I can’t say any of that. I can’t say anything to you, right now.

You- you nod, a little concerned, but you give me space. You bring your hands together again and gaze out at the water again for a minute. Then, finally, you decide to continue onwards. You have a fish monster to face.

~~~

Being here doesn’t get easier, no matter how prepared I am after each Reset. The grey, achromatic walls and floors. The feeling of despair in the air. The stillness. It directly contrasts my memories of warmth and color and love in this home. It reminds me too much of dust.

I stay quiet as you kneel in front of the save star. It glows in a steady, consistent way, light flowing out from the center and disintegrating at the edges. A comforting feeling washes over you, as it always does, and you step into the house.

It’s as lonely as ever. You should just get this over with. The monsters that are always here to greet you at this phase of your journey stop you on your way to the kitchen.

“A long time ago, a human fell into the Ruins,” one of the Froggits begins. You stand there with your hands clasped together and listen politely, as you always do. I put up a mental barrier between myself and the world and try not to listen, as I always do.

The key on the kitchen countertop glints in the other room. You wait for the Froggits to finish speaking before grabbing it and returning to the hallway. You make your way to the far end of the hall to grab the second key, too, before entering my old room.

You open the gift boxes and take the locket and dagger out without a word. I relish the familiar weight around your neck as you reach back to fasten the locket’s clasp. It helps me find the words I want to say.

Frisk. I don’t want to keep doing this.

You’re surprised to hear me speak, but you listen.

What we talked about earlier… It’s not that I don’t want to stay. I think…you’ve helped me a lot too. And I’m really glad I met you. I’m just tired of feeling stuck in the past. A part of me…wants that, but. It hurts, being here but not being able to do anything. To fix anything.

Plus, I mean. You!! The barrier’s broken thanks to you! You and…Asriel, of course. At least, it will be. Again. It’s… I’m glad it worked out in the end. Even if it took a really long time.

I wish things could be different. I wish I could stay, at least a little longer, but I don’t want to take this away from them. Or from you. I made my choice a long time ago, and this is already more than I deserve.

…

Are you…crying?

You’re holding your arms around yourself, as well. What is this???

“A hug,” you say through thoughts, sniffling.

Oh.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like that.”

It’s not your fault.

“I shouldn’t’ve kept Resetting, though. I knew it upset you the first time…”

I understand why you did it now, though. It’s okay, really.

“Okay…”

You rub your eyes with your sleeve and stand up, giving yourself a self-assured nod.

“Don’t worry. This will be the last time.”

~~~

When it’s time to fight Asriel, we’re both filled with determination. The nothingness surrounding us erupts in color and light, illuminated by kaleidoscopic starbeams and glimmering stardust. Attacks rain down on you from above, and you weave your body between them masterfully. You can’t evade them all, but I’m there cheering you on. A blast from Shocker Breaker shatters your soul; I reach out to press the pieces back together. But it refused!

Asriel floats above you, smirking with confidence in his power. You aren’t afraid of him anymore. You know all too well what he’s capable of, but you know him better now than you did when you first encountered him, just a human and a flower with a million untold secrets between them. He’d laid all his puzzle pieces out before you, and you can’t help but see the whole painful picture before you now. He’s stuck in a cycle, much like you but nothing like you at all. You’re going to help him bring it to an end. (Once and for all.)

The attacks keep coming, but you persist. You reach out to your friends within Asriel’s soul and remind them of who they are. Undyne, whom you admire for her enthusiasm and sense of justice. Alphys, whose intelligence and desire to do better inspire you. Papyrus, whom you enjoy hanging out with for his optimism and dedication. Sans, who tells you jokes that make you laugh and whose laid-back attitude puts you at ease. Toriel, who cares for you as her own child and made you feel safe when you first found yourself in this unfamiliar place. Asgore, whose presence is both comforting and sad, knowing of the difficult decisions he’s had to make in his life. Once you’ve reached out to all your friends, there’s only one thing left to do.

It seems that there’s still one last person that needs to be saved.

So you reach out to Asriel. And I do, too. He’s not the same as he was all those years ago, when we were just two kids playing in a muddy flower garden, and neither am I. But it’s still him, despite everything. He resists…and he’s still crying out to you as if you’re me. It hurts. I watch him do this every time, desperately latch on to the belief that I’m not really gone, and the ironic thing is that I have been here the whole time.

“I’m not ready for this to end,” he says, confident façade cracking.

It ended a long time ago.

“I’m not ready for you to leave,” he says.

I know.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye to someone like you again…”

…

“So, please…” His voice shakes, laced with despair. “Stop doing this… And just let me win!!!”

He raises his arms and summons all his magic for one final attack. Your vision is overwhelmed with color as the blast hits you, and you barely register the way he screams at you to stop holding on as your HP drops, with each passing second, to an impossibly low number. But it never reaches zero. You don’t die; your soul doesn’t shatter, because you’ve made it this far and you’re not about to give up now.

Finally, the world grows silent as the sound of magic rushing past your ears subsides. You’re exhausted, though Asriel is barely even paying attention to you anymore. He closes his eyes. Suddenly he seems so small inside his godlike form, too small to really be the Absolute God of HYPERDEATH.

“I’m so alone, Chara…” he says. “I’m so afraid…” They’re echoes of words I’ve already heard him say three times before, but they feel like acid nonetheless because it’s my fault and I’m the reason he’s like this, but you firmly tell me that it’s not. I don’t know if I can believe you, but I lean into you and try not to say anything more.

…

The world fades to black, and Asriel stands before you, looking the way I remember him once again. He’s covering his face, wiping away his tears and probably trying to hide the fact that he’s crying, too. He always was a crybaby, wasn’t he?

“I always was a crybaby, wasn’t I, Chara?”

Ha. Indeed.

He pauses for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. “…I know. You’re not actually Chara, are you? Chara’s been gone for a long time.”

You open your mouth to protest, but… Come on, Frisk, I can’t do that to him. Not after all that.

“But… Are you sure?”

I’m not… I am not here to stay. It would be a mistake to get his hopes up.

You twist your fingers together, disappointed, but you close your mouth anyway.

I’m only half-listening as he continues, asking for your name (which you have given him three times already) and apologizing for his actions. This is the last time I’m going to see him, is it not? He will break the barrier, and then you will go to the surface with everyone else. And I… Well, I don’t actually know what will happen to me. I won’t be able to come with you. I know that, at the very least. It looks like it might really be the end for me. I don’t know how to feel about that.

You tell him you forgive him, as you do every time. It seems only fair to you, after everything he’s gone through. A part of you understands him, even though most of you doesn’t, and you hope the knowledge that somebody in the universe forgives him gives him some solace. He smiles at you sadly.

He can’t stay, he tells you. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes in concentration. The human souls gather around him as he rises into the air, hovering around him in a circle, and the monster souls follow suit, glowing in the darkness. With the combined power of the human souls and every monster soul in the Underground, each pulsing with the same desire…the barrier is finally broken.

It’s over. There’s a weighty sense of resolution to it now. I don’t want you to Reset again. I know you won’t.

I stare at Asriel through your eyes as he lowers to the ground again, head tilted down, eyes closed. He looks so tired. He tells you that he needs to go, that you should go be with the people that care about you. You should just forget about him, he says. As if that would be possible.

Every word feels like a countdown, and I want to do something, but I can’t move. I need him to forget about me. I can’t be here messing everything up. I don’t…want him to forget me. But I don’t want him to hurt remembering me. I don’t want to stay here… I don’t want to go.

You hug Asriel. To my surprise, your arms tighten around him as you allow me to slip into control. “Just for a minute,” you think. The feeling of warmth and his sweater under my fingers and my chin on his shoulder hits me so suddenly that I can’t stop my tears from running down your face. I relax into the hug, though. I close my eyes and try to forget where we are and what we’ve been through. I don’t want to let go…

When he finally pulls away, he gives me a weird look, but it’s gone in a moment.

“I’ll miss you,” I say without thinking.

He laughs. “Please don’t.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

“You okay?” you ask as you slip back into control. Your presence is comforting beside mine in your mind.

I am, I say. Yeah.

~~~

Outside, clouds drift lazily across the sky, a beautiful gradient from lilac to yellow to frame the setting sun. Over the edge of the mountainside, you can just barely see the tops of trees stretching out into the distance, leaves tousling gently in the breeze. Tall buildings silhouette the sky on one side, and on the other, more mountains.

The light streams in through the exit to the Underground, of which you stand behind. One of your hands is cupped over the other in front of you, and you run your fingertips over the knuckles absently. You have been standing here for a while, hesitant.

Congratulations, partner, I start in an attempt to ease the tension, you’ve saved everyone once again.

“We did,” you correct. “And Asriel.”

Of course. And now, think about it. Everyone is free for real. They can see the sun, the sky, the stars… There’s a whole future ahead of them. And you get to be a part of it. That’s amazing, is it not?

“Mhm…”

You could stay with Mom. She would make you breakfast in the morning, read you bedtime stories at night. I bet Undyne would be willing to teach you some sick fighting moves. Anime nights with Alphys.

“I could hang out with Sans and Papyrus.”

Yeah! You could learn how to make music with Napstablook. That might be fun. And Mettaton might need some help becoming a star on the surface, too.

You giggle. “I think he’s got that covered.”

Maybe. I smile along with you. But, aren’t you excited? Not everything will be easy, but you have so many people supporting you.

“I know…” You sigh through your nose. “You deserve all that too, though; it’s not fair.”

Hey. The lilac is disintegrating from the sky, fading into a deep orange. Some of the wind makes it into the cave, crisp air whistling through the doorway and cooling your skin. Hey, you know what? It’s worth it. It’s okay.

I think there are tears in your eyes again. Come on, please don’t cry.

I can’t stay here forever. I’m already overstaying my welcome, being dead and all. I was supposed to be gone a long time ago, but…I got to meet you by some miracle, and that makes it all worth it, I think. Even if I can’t stay.

“Charaaa…”

I laugh a little. Don’t worry about me, Frisk. Really. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

You hug yourself- “Hug you,” you correct. Oh. Okay. You hug me, and I, try to hug you back? It’s a little bit awkward, but I appreciate it all the same. The emotional vulnerability is starting to make me uncomfortable, but I need you to know I care about you. I know you’ll be okay.

Ha ha, this goodbye stuff is pretty hard, huh?

“Goodbye,” you say simply, with a teasing smile.

Oh, not so hard for you, it seems. Well then, “goodbye” to you, too.

I pause. …And good luck out there, partner. I think Asriel said it best: take care of everyone for me, okay? Even him.

You nod and give me a shaky little thumbs up. That’s the spirit! (Pun always intended.)

With a glance over to the others, who are in the other room, chatting amongst themselves and waiting for you, you decide you’re finally ready to go. You let everyone know, and the excitement in the room is palpable as you all make your way to the exit. They make a fuss out of you, ruffling your hair and smiling back at you. You let them leave first, and then at last, you step over the threshold yourself. I feel our connection sever.

And then I’m watching the back of your head as you walk away again. Before you reach the others though, you turn around to give me a small wave.

That’s it, I guess… I can’t exactly wave back, but I wish you well and thank you for everything. Together, you and I allow time to continue on.

[lansplaining]

why i don’t think jin guangyao killed rusong

(or had him killed) 

“Then... then even if you had no choice but to marry Qin Su, you still could have neglected her,” Lan Xichen said. “Why did you have to... And why go through with the trouble of siring A-Song, only to kill your son with your own hands?” 

Jin Guangyao clutched his head in his hands and said in a bitter tone, “...After the wedding, I never touched A-Su again. A-Song... was conceived before we were married. At the time, I was afraid that a delay would cause complications...” 

So he and Qin Su had consummated their union in advance. If not for that, he would never have ended up committing incest with his own younger sister. He didn’t know whether he should hate his father, who was hardly a father at all, or his own paranoid, overthinking self! 

Lan Xichen sighed. “Next-- and do not attempt to prevaricate-- but answer me. Did you intentionally plot Jin Zixuan’s death?” (7 Seas trans., 86-7) 

This is the sequence where Jin Guangyao lays everything out. Given what he chooses to reveal, it seems safe to assume that he isn’t hiding anything. So why do he and Lan Xichen just completely drop the Rusong question? There’s potentially an answer in the way Xichen frames the question-- that is, it’s a two-in-one of “why did you sleep with her and conceive a son only to kill him” and JGY’s response answers both-- I didn’t know when I slept with her and when I conceived him. 

But why does even the narration seem to forget about it? Why doesn’t it say, “he would never ended up committing incest with his own younger sister and having to kill his own son”?

I think... because he didn’t. I get annoyed by attempts to answer questions that hinge on how someone “would” or “should” act because everyone is different! But! Murdering your own son is something that would demand at least a little emotional unpacking, surely?? Or at least a little more explanation. He was a total innocent, and a child! But we get more time breaking down murders that are ten times more understandable, if not justifiable in the eyes of those listening, just from surface knowledge of the relationships. 

We even get other opportunities for it to come up, and it doesn’t. In the very next section, for example: 

“Despite us being born of the same man, why was your father able to spend his leisure time at home with his beloved wife, playing with his child, while I didn’t dare be alone with my wife and my blood ran cold at the sight of my own son?” (88). 

Again, dropping in “while I was driven to kill my own son” feels a little more rhetorically powerful-- if it happened. 

JGY leaves out potentially morally exculpatory evidence again and again when he isn’t asked for it directly-- like SiSi, like an explanation of how his mother was treated in the brothel he burned. The fact that he doesn’t go into Rusong’s death, and the fact that Lan Xichen just lets it pass without explanation, makes me think that the official version of events-- that he was killed in political retaliation-- is true. 

[jenyifer]

Hum I realized I haven’t shared any of my book recs on here. I know I should watch new bl. I plan on finding something in June.

Since I got broken up I’ve been reading lgbt books. My ex gf had been showing me things about being lgbt that I had never imagined before and without her I still wanted to learn to experience different stories. So I used my love of fantasy and sci-fi and started listening and reading as much as I could. I don’t really care for overly spicy things but I like when the characters are realistic adults. So keep that in mind with this list.

1. The House in the Cerulean Sea 10/10 Fantasy great characters and mc growth. Found family always gets me. The ending was perfect. I’ve listened to it 15 times and forced my parents and uncle to read it. I’m excited for book 2.

2. The Darkness Outside of Us. 10/10 Sci-fi Space. This book made me feel so much. Surprised me. Had me gasping for air in my cube to the point people had to ask if I was okay. Had me running to the car to cry as I listened to the last part. Go in blind and enjoy the space and gay of it all.

3. Dark Rise 10/10 Classic Fantasy It is incredibly rare any book surprises me. Most of the time I can guess the plot a mile away. Dark Rise hit me over the head a couple times had me crying. But it was so epic and adventurous reminded of the feeling I had reading David Eddings as a child. (Not that lgbt as I would have liked but… it was there I assume book 2 a lot more)

4. Iron Widow 10/10 Sci-fi Mechs Fantasy Post Apocalypse I adore a mechs and history. It was extremely exciting. I adore the main couple even though main girl is actually mentally unstable but you love her anyways.

5. The Extraordinaries 9/10 Superhero. The main character is lovably stupid aside from his ADHD which I can relate on. I loved the lesbian side couple. The story was fun felt like it was written for the early college me who loved superheroes.

5. Adam Binder Series White Trash Warlock 9/10. Urban Fantasy. It gives me flash backs to Harry Dresden and Iron Druid but not in the obvious way just in vibe. I love main characters being country. I’m from Mississippi not Oklahoma but I can relate to being a gay in a small town moving to a big city. I love the main couple. The mystery magic system was interesting. I wish it had a bit more romance actually. Just because I love the main couple and side characters a lot and want happiness. I wish I could get more people to read this one it’s wonderful a lot better than a lot of urban str8 fantasy I’ve read and it was my main category for years. The mystery element was decent. I need to start book 3.

6. Ocean’s Echo 8.5/10 sci-fi mystery the main characters are… so wonderful. They are extreme but I love them so much. I’ll protect them to the end of days. I have this book over it’s… I guess in the same universe book Winter’s Orbit because I think the mystery suspense is more intense in Ocean’s echo also much more spacey sci-fi. Romance is also arranged marriage but is VERY different from winters orbit. I wish… I wish this book wasn’t associated with the other because it gets unfairly compared because the narrator is the same etc but Ocean’s Echo is great in its own right and is definitely not a copy

7. Winter’s Orbit 8.5/10 MYSTERY sci-fi edging on fantasy. Arranged marriage. Slow burn. These characters are also 10/10 I love them. I have experienced an abusive relationship before and appreciated seeing a character with the scars a similar past. Often if a character is portrayed as in an abusive relationship they focus on the event but it effects Everything in your world. Even now I have these scars after 8 years. I loved the mystery it was the main focus which I liked. The romance felt natural.

8. Fragile Remedy 8/10 one of the first books I read it made me cry and was a good single dystopian gem. Had a real… divergent hunger games kind of vibe to the world from what I remember.

9. Lightning struck heart 7/10 classic fantasy this is what I said on my insta at the time “It is an extremely comedic fantasy adventure with wizards, unicorns, knights, and dragons. Right up my alley! However the ending was disappointing. I'll listen to the next book in the series and hope it improves. Just found character arch unbelievable in last chapters.”

10. A wish upon a star by tj klune ^follow up books I read like 4 of them 5/10 I did stop listening to it this is what I said on my insta “Well I continued listening the tales of verania series and made it to the original end of the series. I'd say if you want a gay fantasy comedy without too much thinking Listen to the audio. Narrator is the biggest part of why I didn't quit. Idk if I'll read the other books though it is very friendship is magic smooth brain ideas I've read”

Unable to finish (been desperately trying to find a lesbian story and finding nothing)

Girl, Serpent, Thorn 4/10 my review from insta “Unable to finish it. The world is interesting. The first 3rd seemed promising but after major conflict the writing goes way down. But the MC doesn't grow. The f/f is so shallow it made me roll my.eyes until I had to stop listening. Wanted the bad guy to win and kill everyone”

The Midnight Girls. So intensely annoying and childish. I couldn’t do it I think I made it to chapter 3 but it was a struggle.

In the ravenous dark. I got to one third of the audio book and had to stop. The universe was okay but main girl was very annoying. Was kind of hoping her and the ghost would be together not… not the weird bullshit that was going on. Idk what the end of the book was going to be but it was not for me.

I’ll post another with my current to read list. I’m really going through them now because I have to drive two hours a day to and from work. Give me your suggestions though please thank you.

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

To Start Anew (TF141xLATA!Reader) Ch.2

Part 2 coming up hot! Here our lovely reader finally meets the guys!

Warnings: Language

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alarm goes off at 5:30am and you’re thankful that you remembered to pack all your new clothes the week before. As you rushed to do your routine, put on nice makeup, a nice set of lingerie and one of the new dresses you bought just for the trip. A black, knee length little summer dress paired with some strappy, chunky heels.

A whistle comes from behind you and your mom, dad, and sister are standing there, soft smiles on their faces. “Honestly that guy is a fuckin idiot. Giving up my hot sister to go do god knows what.” You laughed at your sister’s comment and sighed. “Think you dodged a bullet on this one honey. Always gave off that kinda flakey vibe.” You nodded and gave them a hug. “Thanks dad. Think I dodged a bullet too.”

Your mom perks up and checks the time. “Well let’s get you to the airport then. Don’t want you to be late for your flight!” Your dad helps you with your bags as your mom leads the way to the car, your sister talking your ear off about the trip and to send lots of pics and videos and to have fun.

Luckily when you arrived it was only 6am and the line to get through security was short enough it only took you 20 minutes to get through. You made your way to the assigned gate for your plane and made yourself comfy as you waited.

It was about 15 minutes later when a group of four men came into the area, discussing something but honestly you were immersed in your podcast and couldn’t exactly hear them. That was until one of them, a handsome man with a British accent, pointed at you and approached. He was dressed in dark jeans and a gray t-shirt, showing off defined, strong looking arms, dark skin glowing in the early morning sun.

”Sorry to disturb you ma’am, but is this the gate for flight 5138 to Italy? They changed us at the last second and my boss is pretty sure we're in the right area.” You look at his ticket and then your own. “Uhm yeah looks like it! Hate when things change last minute.” The man nods, beautiful chocolate brown eyes shining. “Thank you miss…?”

You flush, extending your hand and giving your name. He takes it and kisses your hand, “A pleasure. Thank you again.” He walks back to his group and you stare at your hand for a moment before going back to listening to your podcast. You notice them all gather around closer and sit across from each other and a seat away from you. They talk amongst themselves before the oldest, who you assume is their boss, pulls his beanie over his eyes and leans back for a nap.

The one that asked you about the gate earlier sits next to you and pulls out his phone to play some game. The other two, one with a skull face mask and the other with a Mohawk talk amongst themselves. You hit an interesting point in the podcast you’re listening to, as the narrator retells a scary experience story someone sent in. Under your breath you unconsciously mutter out a ‘Oh my fuckin god why? Wouldn’t have let the spooky batch in my house to begin with.’ Drawing their attention to you.

”Aye, letting spooky bitches into your home would nae be the smartest move.” You glance at the Mohawk guy and apologize. “Ah sorry I didn’t think I’d said out loud.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Nah don’t be. What’s so spooky anyway?” You show him the podcast on your phone, him and the masked guy looking and nodding. “The woman likes scary stories. Got any recommendations?” The masked one speaks and his voice is gravel, you absolutely love it.

”Well this one is pretty good. Active too, about 400+ stories with some of them compilations.” You give him the name of it and he searches it up, popping a headphone in and scanning the area. The Scottsman brings your attention back to him, more interested in having someone to talk to. “What are ye headin to Italy for? Family? Friends?” You hesitate. You don’t know these men and having four strange, and extremely handsome, men knowing you’re by yourself seems like a bad idea.

”Uh, Honeymoon for one.” His face drops and his frown surprises you. “That a thing? Did nae ken you could have one a those.” Beanie guy chimes in, “That’s not a thing Johnny. Quit bothering the poor lady.” “Aye Cap, just makin friendly convo with Bonnie.” Chocolate eyes smirks and leans in, “If he’s bothering you we can muzzle him for ya.” You giggle and shake your head. “No no, he’s fine.” “So what’s the reason fer the solo honeymoon if ye dinna mind me askin?”

You look at him for a solid minute before replying. “You don’t gotta answer him. You don’t know us, you’re not inclined to share.” You nod, but politely give them your name. Beanie guy introduces himself as John, mask dude says his name is Simon, Mohawk is John but says you can call him Johnny, and chocolate eyes says his name is Kyle, you make a face before furiously apologizing. You slap your hands over your face, trying not to ruin your makeup. “Oh my fucking god that was so rude! I’m so sorry.”

”Gave ‘er the ick and all you did was give the poor girl your name Garrick. That’s a new one.” “No no I’m sorry. My ex fiancé’s name was Kyle. Stupid asshole literally left me at the altar yesterday. Hence why I’m on this solo honeymoon. His parents spent the money and they didn’t want to let it go to waste.” The men stare at you in shock, taking in your outfit, the nice makeup. “”What fuckin muppet. Was he cheating?”

You shake your head. “His best man is an absolute madman with any kind of tech and went through all of this socials and electronics, even the phone records. Didn’t find anything.” The men nod and hum. “So what are you guys heading to Italy for? Business? Overdue vacation?” “Something like that.” John says. “On leave for now.” “Military?” They nod, “What’s that like?” “Fuckin exhaustin. Wish the bad guys would take some fuckin vacations honestly.”

After that you five spend time talking until they begin boarding the plane, the stewards sending everyone to their own first class areas. You order a Jack and coke and settle in for the long flight.

Tags!: @cumikering @devcica

[weightedblankettt]

An Analysis on the Literature Girl Insane MV!

Hey! You might not know me that much, as I’m not active in the DRDTheory community, as I’ve dubbed it, but my name is Blanket! Technically, this is a work of collaboration between the majority of DRDT Twitter, but it’s mainly just an analysis of stuff I couldn’t do by myself.

Okay, and now, onto the video!

So we start off with the spoiler warning. Pretty standard stuff, of course.

Many of my theories beginning here will be based on the colors and what I, personally, associate them with. Of course, the actual MV’s contents will be looked at further down the line. 

As a bonus, take note of what pops up right after that. It’s a question: Do you want to forgive... someone? We’ll answer this question later on in the theories section.

These are mainly just lyrics, but the “final verdict” part catches my eye, as I believe it isn’t in the lyrics further down the line. Perhaps it’s about the current trial? As many people believe, David did not kill Arei. His reasons for lying about doing so are unknown, but we can assume that the singer is calling the listeners idiots, because of their incorrect final verdict. Whatever David wants to do, it’s certainly not leading them to the right one.

Next, these lyrics. While I believe it’s fairly obvious that the pink is meant to represent the typical Danganronpa-esque color of their blood, the color that the word “game” is in is probably relates to David. After all, his hair clips and star eyes, both prominent features of his “facade”, are in the same color.

Here is where the most prominent part of the MV is, to me. The text that flashes across the screen during transition points. The first one, in white text, is an excerpt from Osamu Dazai’s “The Flowers of Buffoonery.” The book, while I’ll spare you the greater details, greatly describes themes of suicide. The story’s main protagonist, Yozo Oba, can be described as so: “-But the narrator, a self-conscious writer, makes frequent first-person asides, breaking the fourth wall as he comments on the quality or believability of the novel he is writing.” 

Something especially telling is this line, from an analysis of Yozo’s character. “Yozo is a person characterized by shame. Although I pretend to be someone who is confident and unabashedly themselves, that is not really true. I have always been ashamed of who I really am. I created a whole persona to interact with others because I believed my true self would never be enough.”

David’s character is someone very similar to that. Someone who has created a false persona to interact with others. Yozo is someone who feels resentful of other people, simply because he is forced to make them happy. “Yozo Oba is the tortured author and unreliable narrator of the three notebooks that comprise the bulk of No Longer Human. [That is the sequel to The Flowers of Buffoonery.] His appearance is depicted in three photographs examined by an unnamed narrator in the Prologue. These three photographs correspond to his appearance in each of the three notebooks. As a child, Yozo is precocious by design—an impish child who uses his antics to hide his fear, shame, and inability to relate to humanity. These fundamental flaws carry over into young adulthood; in the second notebook, he is a handsome young man whose smiling photograph lacks humanity, betraying the depth of terror and isolation that his comical persona seeks to hide. In the third photograph and notebook, he is only 27, but his gray hair and forgettable appearance prevent him from being labeled an ordinary human being.”

The quotes in yellow are from Agatha Christie’s “Murder on the Orient Express.” The full quote reads as follows. "If you confront anyone who has lied with the truth, they usually admit it – often out of sheer surprise. It is only necessary to guess right to produce your effect." I think the relevancy of this line in terms of David can be explained with his actions so far. Fun fact: Similarly to Danganronpa, “Murder on the Orient Express” is a murder mystery. 

This is just a rickroll. DRDTDev thinks that they are FUNNY!? (They are.)

The “an archaic personal pronoun rarely used in real life, but popularized in fiction by the book” is most likely referring to thou/thy/etc. I’m not sure what this correlates to, but it’s probably important. I couldn’t find the green text, but from what I can tell, the green text probably relates to David’s nihilistic point of view towards humanity. Update: Bleuflower on Tumblr has located the source to be I Am A Cat by Natsume Soseki, so go check her out for that! If I had to say anything about that, it’d probably be relating to MonoTV, however, there’s also a continuation of David’s nihilism towards humanity that was also found in the Osamu Dazai references. The book itself is described as a “mordantly comic evocation of Sōseki's deep pessimism about his own humanity and indeed about humankind in general.”

The white text here is an excerpt from Osamu Dazai’s “No Longer Human,” which follows the same protagonist as “The Flowers of Buffoonery.” I’m sure you can all gather what that means in relation to David, but the main point is that he seems detached from his view of “normalcy.” @shidoutism on Twitter had this to say, as they’ve read the book itself: “OKOK so basically this first excerpt is from 'no longer human' by osamu dazai (its his last finished work because dazai sadly took his own life after publication of the book) now from the limited knowledge i have of david the meaning and message of the book might help in whatever analysis ur doing?? no longer human is about a man who never felt like he understood humans. like the title suggests, he never felt like a person. its revealed the protag was pretty sheltered and rich in childhood but experienced trauma from the familys housekeepers, but he never reported it. thats basically the start of it all as the protag grows up, he finds fear in communicating with humans. so he ends up either isolating himself and/or destroying all of his relationships with people. he's scared of people seeing the real him, so ever since he was a child he started putting up a happy, cheerful front. but it just creeped some ppl out bc it didn't feel genuine, it was more like a clown wanting to so badly entertain others. the protag starts resorting to bad coping mechanisms such as dr/gs and alc/hol and has many relationships with women to drown his sorrows and feel closer to being 'a human'. aaand the end of the book is kinda unsettling as the protag is sent to a rehab center and then when released, isolated himself somewhere far away without people, stating "everything passes. thats the one thing i learned in this living hell [somewhere along those lines]" and the book ends numbly like it feels like nothing”

I don’t know about you, but this sounds rather similar to our “protagonist.”

This quote is from “The Setting Sun”, by, you guessed it, Osamu Dazai. It tells a similar story, albeit with a different protagonist, but I feel like this ties in more with his facade, and how his inspirational speaking comes off to other people. Considering he is in his facade at this time of the MV, it’s safe to say that that’s what this is referring to.

And now, this all falls into place. These are the names of the Osamu Dazai books referenced in the text beforehand. The (I’m), next to No Longer Human, however, could signify how David views himself. Someone so sunken into depravity that they don’t register themselves as human anymore.

The faded text here is the first sentence of Yasunari Kawabata’s “Snow Country”. I don’t know what this refers to in terms of David, but this also seems important.

David still views himself as manipulative. Even if he does love people, even if he does have a semblance of care for those in his life, he views himself as an evil, irredeemable sack of shit, incapable of any emotion other than selfishness and cruelty.

This part is especially intriguing to me. David still wants to live, as anyone else does, but he can’t bring himself to find a reason to leave. His career is dead. He’s worthless, and nobody needs him around. Where would he go? There’s no room for him anywhere, even if he escaped, he’d just be shunned for good now that his entire life has been thrown away. 

The excerpt from “And Then There Were None” by Agatha Christie, describes someone losing motivation to leave the island. The island is a metaphor for the building, that the students are trapped inside, and David has lost the will to leave in the first place. He doesn’t want to leave, because there’s nowhere else for him to even go. He doesn’t have a home. He doesn’t have a fanbase. There’s nothing left.

The text here reads: “If you’re Hythlodaeus, then I must be Morus.” This refers to the work “Utopia”, written by Thomas More. The book follows Raphael Hythlodaeus, a man who claims to be from Utopia, a perfect place for everyone. His surname quite literally means “Bringer of Nonsense,” or something along those lines. While this may be a stretch, I believe that “Hythlodaeus” is referring to Pre-Reveal David, and “Morus” could possibly be either Post-Reveal David or someone affected by his speeches, for example Xander.

Also, I find it interesting how the girl in this frame, most likely David’s “sister,” Diana, and David himself are both tilting their heads at similar angles. It’s possible that their relation is hinted at through this, but I’m not sure.

The excerpt right here is from Kajii Motojiro’s entry in the Kyoto Journal, entitled “Lemon”. While some of the text has been altered, the main story is about a man who finds himself suffering, and walks through his neighbourhood only to find a greengrocer selling lemons. He goes home, and finds himself happier than before. I’m not sure what this means when it comes to David, however if you’d like, you can analyze for yourself and let me know.

https://www.kyotojournal.org/fiction-poetry/lemon/

This part doesn’t have any external references, but I believe that the lyrics here reinforce David’s worldview, that no matter what you do and how hard you try, “nobody ever changes.”

The star imagery here is a direct reference to David. Stars are representative of his happy facade, and when he loses the stars, he quits the bullshit. 

…And this frame. Alright, let’s start from the top. The electrocution definition is a callback to Xander, who’s referenced quite a few times in the video. The yellow text, which is from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s “The Little Prince”, is possibly a reference to David’s view on other people or himself- That nobody is special unless you were born special. However, the end of the text describes that if the boy were to tame the fox, the speaker, that they would need each other. I’m not sure if this is a description of manipulation, or a codependent relationship, but the David parallels are there. That, and the title of a “little prince” probably refers to David and how he’s idolized by many. The green text is, again, from “The Flowers of Buffoonery.” The full text is as follows. “A man crushed by reality puts on a show of endurance. If that's beyond your comprehension, dear reader, then you and I will never understand each other. Life's a farce, so we might as well make it a good one. But real life is a realm that I may never reach. The best that I can hope for is to loiter in the memory of these four days, so steeped with empathy. Four days that count more than

five or ten years of my life. Four days that count more than a lifetime.”

In reference to David, this is more representative of his true feelings. Not the asshole persona or the facade, but the genuine feelings he has. He already feels far too gone by his own standards, and constantly puts on a “show” for other people in the form of his speeches. 

The red text is possibly a person dealing with depression speaking on one of their symptoms. There’s no way I could find a source for such a short quote. A common symptom of depression is losing interest in things you previously found enjoyable.

The white text on the side describes someone who finds pleasure in solitude as opposed to being bossed around by other people. It’s a reference to David’s backstory, as someone who was pressured into putting on a performance for others, finding comfort in being alone rather than having to play pretend whenever around other people.

The white text at the bottom is a continuation of the white text at the top.

The only theory I can think of for this is that it’s a foreshadowing to either gaps in their memory or the amount of survivors left in the killing game being four. Not sure.

Update: I don’t know how I missed this, but the “11” next to the suspicious gaps refers to this. It’s possible that the suspicious gaps are gaps in their memory now, being as he doesn’t remember having an older sister, but her existence is most likely confirmed, as we saw her. 

This part here is referring to “Catch 22,” when the main character realizes that without a soul, humans are just… matter, if you will. Empty husks.

For this part, I had to call upon my not-so-trustworthy old friend, Google Translate! The translation of this from Latin is “I think, therefore I am (not.)” That’s what makes the most sense to me. We’ll refer back to this part later, for I have a different intention for it in my mind than David himself.

The dark blue text is another excerpt from “The Little Prince.” The prince in question is talking to a castaway, and the main takeaway of his words is that only your heart can tell you what you really need. If you were to simply look with your eyes, then what you truly need would be drowned out by the blinding light of superficial desires. I’m pretty sure that’s what that means. David is looking through his eyes, seeing a cruel world where nobody changes unless they were born to.

Now, let’s get into the next big part of the MV: The crossword puzzle. You might be wondering how this relates to David, but its moreso his own commentary on his classmates. Let’s go back to the latin. Pay attention to this reference of the solved crossword by raspbeyes on Tumblr. It will be very important for you to follow along.

Notice how there’s roman numerals in some of David’s lyrics? For example, this that we established earlier meant “I think therefore I am (not.)” This is referring to Rose. Her photographic memory can be linked to the description of “thinking.” The context of this may become clearer in future parts of the story. 

III. That’s Charles. “If you doubt brittle things are broken.” Is, in my mind, referring to his memories. He has a recurring element of not remembering things, but he doesn’t seem to be aware of this until Chapter 2. For example, his secret- “Your older brother died, but you don’t remember him at all.”

IV. Arei. Her breakdown sequence should be all you need to associate this with her.

V. This is Ace. He’s going insane, obviously, because of the paranoia and failed murder attempt against him. That, and he’s become more disheveled as the game progressed.

XIV. Veronika, correct? Substance to the arts relates to her talent as a Horror Fanatic. Naturally, she’d be related to things like that.

XV. Whit’s refusal to accept his mother’s death, staying ignorant to the tragedies around him, is one of the “happiest” members of the cast.

XI. Mai Akasaki is not mentioned in the current story, and all of her quotes hidden amongst the cast members describe her in past tense. She was someone everyone viewed as reliable, trustworthy, and perhaps, if you exaggerated it, as God.

These two walls of text are both from the same source: Hamlet’s Solliloquy of “To Be, or Not to Be?”

This is what the thing actually means, in case you aren’t aware, which even I wasn’t until just now. It represents David’s suicidal ideology, from what we can assume with the way he’s trying to get everyone to vote wrong in the trial for Arei, quite well. Whether he wants to live, or die, is most likely a constant struggle for David to answer.

Which is why he leaves it up to… whoever can answer.

This is an absolute reference to the trial. The class trial rules are overlaid over the death portrait texture, which is “conveniently” covering David’s face. The seventeen here is also telling, considering what the description has to say about it!

This is what I believe is David’s end goal. To get everyone executed as a result of his own hopelessness. By pretending to be the killer and antagonizing the class, he believes he can easily sway the votes by “manipulating the public” as he always believes he’s done. By getting everyone to vote for him, he can end the killing game and his own “pathetic life” in one fell swoop.

After all, it’s not like he believes they have a chance of winning and escaping in the first place.

And here, is where we left off in Episode 11. David completely drops his facade in order to effectively kill himself, along with everyone else. After realizing the hopelessness of his situation, he makes a drastic turn to accept it readily. Someone who self-sabotages continues to do so because they develop a warped perspective of having control.

And again referring to the description, the 12 near the “Tallying Votes” caption refers to this. It’s David’s way of justifying his selfishness, with a diluted form of justice serving as an “ultimately fair verdict to the trial.” 

However, David has always wanted to be loved. It’s why he even bothers with his facade, because he’s been putting it up for so long that disregarding his persona would effectively ruin everything he’s worked so hard to maintain in the first place. The repeated imagery of applause could also be a callback to his status as a celebrity, especially with how he reacted to Xander and Arei’s reliance on him.

While this does have a small fade of text pointing out that the “degraded copy” is the cover, which is not true because the MV is amazing, but. I believe this–

Oh. That’s literally it. Well, that makes one mystery solved!

Hey, look, we’re already halfway through! nice! Eden’s optimistic personality can be referenced here. She wants to live with everyone, together, and make sure that nobody gets hurt. 

This is another reference to David’s rambling on about how attempting to change is utterly futile, and that nobody changes. 

The yellow text is the definition of a television show, I believe. The blue text is an excerpt from “And Then There Were None,” by Agatha Christie. The full quote is this: “Breakfast was a curious meal. Everyone was very polite…. Six people, all outwardly self-possessed and normal. And within? Thoughts that ran round in a circle like squirrels in a cage…. ‘What next? What next? Who? Which?’...” …Do you get it? It’s a parallel to the killing game. Or, rather, how David views it. Everyone is terrified and scared for their lives, but they still greet eachother with mock kindness.

The blue text on the side is an excerpt from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth.”, and it goes like this: “I am in blood / Stepped in so far, that, should I wade no more, / Returning were as tedious as go o'er.” A critical analysis of the original work reads as follows: Shakespeare is saying here that Macbeth has involved himself in so many murders that it is as easy for him to carry on than to turn back. Macbeth compares his course of action with wading across a river of blood, creating a vivid image of his bloody reign. The word 'tedious' reveals the hardening of Macbeth's heart.

And now, the moment I’m sure most of you have been waiting for. Xander. Something I took notice of was that the cracks line up directly with his left eye, while his right eye is the one that’s actually missing in the game. Nonetheless, Xander clearly did mean something to David. Whether it be through his idolization of David, or if he inspired David in some way, his death had an impact on him. Manipulative persona or not. 

XVI translates to Hu from the crossword puzzle. He’s taunting her, similarly to how he did in the trial, although the ??? makes me wonder if it actually IS David…

XII, that’s Eden. I assume it’s because of her optimistic persona that she is standing in someone’s way, although we’re not sure who. 

For the next part, let’s say we take this at face value. It could definitely be referencing David allegedly pushing Arei to commit suicide, although this could also be something he internalizes, with the themes of suicide and wishing to be dead explored previously.

These are all repeats of the previous works included in the MV, like The Little Prince, Ozamu Dazai’s series, Agatha Christie’s works, etc etc.

Now, this is code, I’m assuming, but I tried translating it and couldn’t find anything. It’s a common encryption language. In case you want to translate it, it’s: 3aqxw97pktc8uki458fbdpfoacllex2f07bf8mg24b4mpfx2adc6v3f5yhxjd8i7sf11312zaj5lazet47jod5jczec5mvb6bz2o59r143sf2pe916sczcn7emvbl55ehe9iqb2708tt83482c8tw3c77gn47ojca634gbcfz0016s647wwlakcn46brcle0eam9

NOTE: @glorywelpchild on Twitter says… “For this, it may have been encrypted multiple times by different engines? I'm not a programmer so I'm not really familiar lmao. Another thing, it could be a type of programming the dev knows/commonly uses.”

The VI here is Arturo, but I don’t know what this means. Perhaps the description can give us some insight?

Hmm… Well, I don’t mind. Whatever you say.

Nico’s number is VIII, and this is referring to the defense they put up when asked about their intentions against Ace’s life. They claim they never thought about it, and “even if they try to think, they don’t know.”

This is Levi’s, as per the IX. 

I actually managed to find the original image in the background. It’s a study on Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9’s orbit around Jupiter for several years before crashing into the planet. While the name, Shoemaker Levy, may be a play on Levi’s name, I believe this is also referencing that he may die soon. Maybe this is a stretch, but the symbolism of a comet named “Shoemaker Levy” crashing into Jupiter being right under a symbol that represents Levi, our prime suspect in a game where being caught results in death, is too far to be a coincidence. Part of my theory for Chapter 2 is that Levi is the blackened, after all, but that is in a previous post. Nonetheless, we can move on.

This is “Enterance of the Gladiators.” While it is now associated with silly things like clowns, it was originally a military march song. Hmm, where have I heard this description before?

Ah, that’s right! In the description!

These two are relatively straightforward. The David we meet in the prologue is his facade, and it serves as an introduction. However, we are re-introduced to him with a whole personality change, and that comes delayed from all the others.

This is a direct reference to MonoTV and the throne in the trial room.

The truth bullets. Typical Danganronpa symbolism, and it’s also a neat little reference to Xander’s custom weapon.

References to some of the students. The dresser is Levi, the bowl of fruit is Rose, the gun is Xander, the teapot is Hu, and the candle is maybe J?

The clock is Eden, the portrait, maybe a reference to the game? The stupid kid’s toy might be Whit.

Teruko and Mai. Teruko’s misfortune and Mai’s idealization are both key parts of their characters.

The gavel, another reference. The kitchen knife, Min. The skull, Veronika. The mirror… Possibly Xander because we’ve seen him with broken glass earlier in the MV, but it might be David and his personas making another reference.

The mastermind, sitting atop their comfortable chair.

The noose is Arei, the gas mask is Charles, the mouse is Nico, the theater mask… Perhaps the mastermind again, or Veronika again. The safe is David’s locked away and suppressed emotions. These are all mainly theories based on observation, don’t take it as the wholehearted truth.

David being mentioned again with the hair clips. The lemon has been brought up beforehand, it’s a callback to the journal entry. The dummies represent David’s detachment from his humanity, and the television is a callback to the fact that they’re on a television show.

David views himself as a snake, a liar, a murderer. Snakes are common imagery to use when referring to the Devil as well. The blood is a callback to the killing game itself.

Either a reference to Min, or the fact that all the books are empty could be visual dramatization of David’s feelings. There’s supposed to be something in them, but the books are empty. The “various kinds” could also be how many personas he puts on, if that’s a prominent part of his backstory.

The killing game is being broadcasted, so that counts as terrorist iconography, if nothing else. Dandelions, while beautiful in their own way, don’t belong in a garden. The megaphone is David’s custom weapon, and it’s a way for him to broadcast his speeches to those around the world.

The letters are from the joke comic that the dev released. You know the one, where Xander writes a letter for David and he accidentally throws it away thinking that it’s garbage. The popular toy refers to the commercializing of the Tragedy, as Veronika explained on the first day of Chapter 2. How horror movies will put black-and-white designs in their films to up the fear factor because of the subliminal/primal fear of the design back in the days of the Tragedy. The flowers… No idea.

This is cleverly disguised, but it’s a reference to the debate between continuing to live and killing yourself. To be or not to be, to stop or to keep going, but they’re both lit up. How are you to do both at the same time? You have to make a choice.

Main Roles are David and Xander. It makes sense, considering they both have full-body moments and we know who they are. The crossed out name is Mai Akasaki, but the cut off name is a bit harder to decipher. Thanks to some inspiration and help, I’ve come to my final conclusion regarding this.

They are related to Arei, 100%. The letters match perfectly.

Even in comparison to Arei, the “N” in her name starts only a bit earlier, but that’s because the first word is probably only two or three letters, in comparison to the four letters in Arei.

Originally, I couldn’t translate any of these. All I could make out was that the first hand was Xander and the second hand was Min or Mai. However. @MAHIRUMILGRAM on twitter managed to translate them! They are as follows:

After this point, the truth bullet breaks through David’s words, similarly to how Teruko is fighting against David, despite the truth bullet being in agreement towards David’s idea.

There’s also this, which could be David trying to deflect us from the truth, or that the lyrics genuinely don’t relate to him. I’m leaning towards the former.

The white text at the top here is from a story, entitled “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.” It is about a beautiful city where everyone is happy. However, their city is not as beautiful as it seems. They tell the story of how the townspeople have locked a child in a basement, and left it to suffer. Their happiness, as they’ve been told, requires a sacrifice. “Inside the room, which is behind a locked door, there are a couple of dirty mops, a bucket, and a young child. The child is ten years old, but looks younger. The child is scared and completely miserable. It is never allowed to leave the room. Occasionally, someone opens the door and kicks the child to make it stand up. The person fills the food bowl halfway with corn meal and grease, fills the water jug, and leaves. The child can remember what the outside world looks like and begs and pleads to be let out. The child is naked and covered in sores, and it wails at night in its misery. The people of Omelas all know about the child in the basement. They all understand that everything good about Omelas, from their abundance of food to the good weather, depends upon the suffering of the child. They all understand this because when children are between the ages of eight and twelve, they are brought to see the child, and this tradeoff is explained to them. During this experience, the children of Omelas are disgusted. They want to help, but they are told they can’t. If anyone helps the child by clothing, feeding, or otherwise caring for it, then the perfect happiness of Omelas and its abundance would die. Therefore, no one may even speak kindly to the child.” I wanted to include this because it describes David so well. Someone who has been cast away because they’re deemed useless to society, someone who’s happiness would destroy the happiness of anyone else. I find the story truly fascinating, as it might describe David’s suppressed emotions and the depressive tendencies he indulges himself in.

“Their tears at the bitter injustice dry when they begin to perceive the terrible justice of reality, and to accept it. Yet it is their tears and anger, the trying of their generosity and the acceptance of their helplessness, which are perhaps the true source of the splendor of their lives. Theirs is no vapid, irresponsible happiness. They know that they, like the child, are not free.”

“How you have felt, O men of Athens, at hearing the speeches of my accusers, I cannot tell; but I know that their persuasive words almost made me forget who I was—such was the effect of them; and yet they have hardly spoken a word of truth [alēthēs]. But many as their falsehoods were, there was one of them which quite amazed me—I mean when they told you to be upon your guard, and not to let yourselves be deceived by the force of my eloquence. They ought to have been ashamed of saying this, because they were sure to be detected as soon as I opened my lips and displayed my deficiency; they certainly did appear to be most shameless in saying this, unless by the force of eloquence they mean the force of truth [alēthēs]; for then I do indeed admit that I am eloquent. But in how different a way from theirs! Well, as I was saying, they have hardly uttered a word, or not more than a word, of truth [alēthēs]; but you shall hear from me the whole truth [alēthēs]: not, however, delivered after their manner, in a set oration duly ornamented with words and phrases.”

Do you remember, in the prologue, where Xander describes the “rumors” against David’s positive front? This is a direct parallel. Here, Socrates denounces the words of his attackers, similarly to how nobody truly believes the rumors except for the critics themselves. Even Xander was fooled by his charisma.

“Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet: If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away, And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, 240 Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so, Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.”

Hamlet blames his own insanity for the death of Laertes’ father. Just like David tries to get everyone killed, and blames himself for murdering Arei, because of his own insanity.

This is a line from the poem “Be Not Defeated by The Rain,” by Kenji Miyazawa. It describes a man wishing to become someone strong, someone who cannot be bested. I believe this is exactly what David wants, too. To be as strong and as hopeful as he is forced to pretend to be, instead of a hopeless mess who would rather die than be seen as worthless.

David reaches the height of his insanity, before finally quieting down after being basked in green light. I don’t know if this was intentional, but I believe that it represents how he’s given up on even death after the students manage to vote correctly, hence the green coloring.

And now, number 19.

I severely doubt that David will actually die in Chapter 3. That is not “foreshadowing,” that is just giving out the answer, and DRDTDev is much more careful than that. I believe this is a final representation of David’s suicidal ideologies. He says he will forget, he says guilt will not weigh him down, but he’s lying to himself. That’s why the stars are still behind him, because he’s still lying. He says he is satisfied, he says he’s okay with death, but when has David ever been truthful with us?

And he leaves an empty throne behind. Not because he is dead, but because he has relinquished his career and his reputation for nothing.

Even though he is missing, nothing else has changed. That is how he views his life.

And that concludes the main analysis of David’s MV! It’s such a beautiful thing, really, I don’t know how to phrase any of it properly. Thank you to everyone who’s read this far, and everyone who helped me out. The decoding and puzzles? Ah, I’ll let you all do that… But, maybe I can help a little! Blanket, out~! See you all next time!

[slay-the-heroine]

Let's assume I'm telling the truth and all of this really did already happen. Why should I listen to you? Why should I bother doing anything?

The Narrator:

Those are two very different questions, but fine. I'll indulge you if that's what it takes to get you moving.

The Narrator:

Let's say for a moment that this really is the second time you've met me, or, at least, a version of me.

The Narrator:

If you're back here, I'm assuming you died, which probably only happened because you didn't listen to me.

Voice of the Cold:

But we did. We slayed her just like you said to, and we were essentially punished for it.

The Narrator:

That's silly. I wouldn't have punished you for listening. That doesn't sound like something I would do.

Voice of the Prince:

Maybe not explicitly, but when the cabin started falling apart, you hadn't done much in our favor.



Voice of the Cold:

We had no other way out. So we made the valiant decision to slay ourself.

The Narrator:

You killed yourself, which means you weren't listening to me. I would never tell you to do that. I don't want you dead.

The Narrator:

And I believe your second question was "what's the point of doing anything?" If you're asking that, it sounds to me like you're making the rather dangerous assumption that your actions last time around didn't have any consequences.

Voice of the Prince:

Presently, there haven't been any. We killed her, and then ourself, and now everything has returned to normal. By your word, the cabin hasn't fallen apart, and the Heroine is alive in that basement.

The Narrator:

Yes, but, in this hypothetical scenario, that begs the question of how you got back here. Did "time" simply rewind itself, or were you instead transported to a different world entirely?

The Narrator:

Had you failed to slay the Heroine, what would have happened to everyone in the place you left?

Voice of the Cold:

Are you listening? We did slay her. You're just trying to convince us of delusion again. You're so sure the cabin is fine and the Heroine is down there, alive. Honestly, we're better off with you shutting your mouth and us seeing for ourselves. We could slay her, we could slay ourselves, or we could slay any other noise-makers, if the need arises.

The Narrator:

Just stay focused, will you?

>>>

[thegreatsolaris]

✨Short TSP Drabble✨

I wanted to write Stanley and Narrators first real interaction so I quickly typed this up. I don’t think I’ll write more of this soon so I wanted to get it out.

I’ll post it to Ao3 eventually but for now

I hope you like this!!

————————————————

Those beautiful blue skies stretched far into the distance.

Stanley used to feel like anything was possible looking out into this world, but as the same script rambled on above him, he couldn’t help but tire of it all. He wanted something new and exciting. That’s all he really needed! Just a good change of pace.

Stanley tried to will his hands to move.

“And Stanley was…”

Stanley pointed towards his nose twisting his hand then flicked his hand away in a lazy manner.

“EXCUSE ME???”

Stanley jumped.

This was the first time the narrator had actually responded to anything he’d done. Of course, the script could fool him sometimes into thinking that someone was actually speaking to him, but when it’s the same every time… it’s hard to believe it’s not a bizarre recording.

This was not a part of the script here? What is this?

Stanley stared at the blue sky wondering if this was all a hallucination. Again.

“Oh? Nothing to say for yourself, you ingrate?” He swore he could almost feel the building around him get tenser. The metal creaked beneath his feet. He desperately tried not to faint.

Stanley hesitantly raised both his hands pointing back and forth between himself and the sky (where he assumed the voice was coming from).

“Yes, I’m talking to You, Stanley,” the voice huffed.

[Stanley couldn’t think of what to say. Thankfully the Narrator was voicing his thoughts for him. Part of him assumed that the voice was a recording at some point. Stanley wondered if he should be freaking out more, but he was just surprised! Why the voice hadn’t spoken to him before? Could he alway do this? Surely he’s done way worse than offhandedly saying he was bored…]

“Irritable, sure, you always are, but you have never voiced any of this directly at me. I’m not the one here guilty of not trying to communicate! You never say anything to me!”

That… is probably true… Stanley shrugged.

“I CANT BELIEVE- Hold on, I-“ some papers shuffled and the voice got a little farther away as a chair rolled, “This conversation isn’t over.”

Stanley furrowed his brow waiting for-

THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE EN

Stanley blinked back to reality to see he was sitting in his office once more.

“Okayyy,” the Narrator’s chair sounded like it rolled back over to him, “Now let’s have a chat. You and I. We’ve been working well together for a long time now, despite your issues… Is there something wrong with my story, Stanley? Is there a reason you’re so bored with my life’s work!? I’ll have you know I’ve been working very hard- WILL YOU LISTEN?!”

Stanley stopped pressing buttons on the keyboard to look up.

“I’m really trying to have a serious conversation with you here, Stanley! Face to face!” The lights flickered briefly.

[ He rolled his eyes at the ceiling all smug, “What face?” Stanley laughed to himself. ]

“You’re very funny, Stanley… Is this about you having a default model or nothing at all when it’s Not. Even. Necessary?” The walls shook slightly in irritation.

[“It wasn’t but it definitely is now.” Stanley mused. It was more intended to poke fun at his Narrator for being so elusive for all these years. It’s hard to take a disembodied voice seriously. Although….. Now that he thinks of it, his hands and body do randomly disappear…]

“You’re bothered by my lack of a face?! Seriously?!” The building made a noise like it was about to cave in, “I don’t need one! I’m not even an actual character in the story! I’m the Narrator! I read the script! As a matter of fact, you don’t even need a body or face! It’s not important! This is a first person game with no other players!”

[ “You asked,” Stanley would cross his arms if he felt like he had any right now, “What kind of a writer can’t even take a little bit of constructive criticism?”]

“Fine! Fine! No, I really see how it is! Sure!”

Stanley waited for more. The Narrator loved to talk after all, but he was scarily quiet.

There was a slight ambient noise when Stanley strained his hearing.

Frantic typing. Mouse clicks. Scratching of pens and pencils on paper. Occasionally a mutter or deep breath from the Narrator.

Stanley stared a the ceiling listening to the sounds of him working. It was odd. And yet… Something felt different. He couldn’t explain it but it did. He felt more… there. More present…

“Are you ready to talk, Stanley?” Narrator sounded like it was right above him. Not like the general sense, but literally right above his head. He had a bad feeling.

Then the walls started creaking loudly. Cracks splintered along the ceiling as bright yellow fingers pushed their way in.

He fell off his chair in shock, trying to get away.

The top of his office was easily pulled away like the lid on a can to reveal a big smiling face in a black void.

Stanley’s first thought was that he looked like a giant mouse cursor.

Greying hair swept to the side with a yellow arrow streaked through his hair twisting up like a smile. His skin looked grey as well. His eyes were almost hidden behind a square pair of yellow tinted glasses. A smile stretched across his face. The phrase “tombstone teeth” sprung the Stanley’s mind. He wore a black suit with a highlighter yellow tie that was currently jabbing him in the chest.

Honestly, he looked like an odd abstraction of an older businessman.

“Is this better for you?” This is the most self assured man Stanley had even seen in his life, “As a skilled writer, director, producer, developer, actor, I could go on, I obviously can take some criticism.”

Stanley was pretty sure he had a 50/50 shot of getting killed if he criticized anything right now.

“Obviously, you seem to have… critiques,” Narrator ground his teeth and the arrow in his hair spiked downwards, “Perhaps, it’s time I get back to work… In the meantime, you can do what you like. I’ll take and comments into… consideration…”

Stanley stared at the arrow stabbing into his chest. It didn’t go away. His body felt more permanent.

He smiled up at his bizarre new companion. Well, not new per say but…

Stanley pointed at the abstract man with a smile then cupped his ear.

“I- uh“ he stuttered while turning pink. His tie pulled back to wrap around the Narrator, “Of course I was listening to you, Stanley. I want you to like my game. Besides, it only makes sense to have a proper model for my main character!”

[Stanley could get used to the company. He could feel the smile on his face, “Especially with company as cute as this.”]

“AH! THATS IT!”

The Narrator covered his face, “I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk to me! I’m working! I can’t see you!” He pulled up a stack of papers from somewhere (?) and started to write.

Stanley sat back in his chair.

What a nice change of pace.

[audinosaur]

seijoh road trip ¡!

(bc i’m on a super long car ride right now)

let’s start with seating arrangements (assume they’re in an suv or something bc those maniacs would not be able to fit in anything small) 

iwaizumi’s driving (i don’t think this needs an explanation) 

matsukawa’s in the passengers seat. always. he’s the oldest sibling so therefore the front seat is his god-given right, sitting in the back is just too foreign for him

(he’d also put together a pretty nice playlist for the trip let’s be honest) 

kindaichi’s also usually a front seater (when he drives w his family), but with anyone else he prefers the very back row. it’s nice and secluded :)

plus he always sits next to kunimi, and kunimi needs the seclusion

speaking of needs, yahaba gets car sick ridiculously easy, so he needs to be next to a window so he can have easy vomiting access

like actually, the slightest bump or turn will make him throw up. 

watari’s right there next to him (he’s the only one sane enough & versatile enough to handle being in the very center of everything)

oikawa’s sitting behind iwaizumi, partially to be a helpful navigator and partially to annoy the fuck outta him

makki’s in the third row. i don’t have much to say about this, he’s just chill. you could put him on the hood of the car and he’d be all “this is cool man”

kyoutani’s in the trunk lol

he’s a trunk guy?? he’d sit back there with his dog and enjoy being away from everyone (plus he kinda hates the feel of seatbelts, they’re too constrictive)

(“that’s kind of the fucking point kyou”)

(“you are literally turning green go puke your guts out yahaba”)

hanamaki is the king of snacks. chips? he’s got em. chocolates? he’s got em. cookies? he’s got em. that boys bag is the equivalent to mary poppins’, the snacks just keep coming

funnily enough he can never remember to bring a phone charger

(chargers are kunimi’s department) 

kunimi’s blasting music/white noise/anything into his earbuds the entire ride. he NEEDS his shit to be charged because he’s not about to listen to people talking (read: arguing) for hours on end

kindaichi’s always the one who had to go to the bathroom immediately after they leave the rest stop

“why didn’t you go back there??”

“I DIDN’T HAVE TO GO THEN-”  

when everyone falls asleep iwaizumi likes to listen to true crime podcasts

the only thing is, watari is physically incapable of falling asleep in cars (i am projecting) so he just has to listen in horror as a narrator describes the most gruesome, bloody murders he’s ever heard

they accidentally left kindaichi behind once at a gas station (it was only for 5 minutes, but he sobbed uncontrollably)

after that they made sure to do a head count at every stop

every half hour oikawa will get bored and make them all play games like i spy, 20 questions, truth or dare (mostly truths), etc. 

cue kyouhaba crawling over the seats to beat the shit out of each other during punch buggy

kunimi’s splayed over kindaichi for half of the trip

so hanamaki will be having a conversation with kindaichi and trying so hard to ignore the fact that kunimi’s head is in his lap and the former is combing his fingers through the latters hair 

oikawa switches out to drive so that iwaizumi can sleep for a bit, but ends up screaming at some dumb crap another car did and is banned from the wheel (road rage oikawa supremacy!)

kyoutani’s the “are we there yet?” person. every ten minutes he’ll ask how much longer until they stop

when they do stop, he’ll just go run a lap or two. then come back ten times happier than before, he just needs to stretch his legs !!

mattsun will look up fun facts about each place they visit to entertain everyone :) he’ll be very “dad”-ish about it, like “woaahh, listen to this kids” and “jeez louise that’s a cool little nugget of information”

(we need more dorky matsukawa he’s a total fucking nerd sometimes)

he likes to recline his seat all the way back just to piss yahaba off (he moves it back upright but only after making the second year say please)

yahaba practically falls to the ground when they pull over at rest stops. everyone will go get food/water and pee and he’ll still be kneeling on the pavement holding his stomach when they get back

(when i said the guy gets car sick i MEANT CAR SICK)

in between podcast episodes, iwaizumi will look back at all his sleeping teammates (and a mortified watari) and just think about how much he loves his friends :))