#i also get to pick n choose who i see n who i dont from school now XJJDJDDKDKDKDKDK

[bangcakes]

.

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

playlist

art credit: marbipa hey guyyyss im backkk!! I had a great break and I even had fun with it as well, the loooonngg awaited Chapter 6 has finally arrived. Now to continue I also have created a discord server for us Miguel lovers out there, the only requirements are to simply be 18+ and that's it !!also you may get to chat with your favorite ff writers on the server !!

click on this and you'll be redirected to the server !

enjoy reading guyss !!

and dont forget to ask me to add you to the taglist !!

Warnings: some angst and lots of rotting fluff Words: 1.9k

Chapter 6: La Belle et La Bete

Later that night as the beast takes a bath…

“YOU SAID WHAT ?!” “I KNOW I KNOW…I well… we were sitting outside out at the rose garden and well.. I said that she made the world look more beautiful and if I could have a dance with her.. I NEVER expected she would say YES ?!” Miguel said as another bucket of warm water got doused over his body. He sputtered some of the water away from his lips as he wiped his face from the water. “What was I thinking Peter…” Peter chuckles “No, Miguel… It's perfect, you know that the rose has a few petals left which means that by the time the dance shall be held, you can confess your feelings for her”. Miguel gets up from the tub and looks over the curtain “I feel like an idiot…she won't ever love me anyways” Miguel shakes his body from all the water, splashing Peter in the process.

“You know she is the one”  “Oh quit it Peter..” Miguel said discouraged…”i shall see you in the morning” he said as he put on some clothes and retired for the night. Peter on the other hand smiled and left his bedroom to meet with the rest of the staff.

As Peter arrived at the kitchen,Jess was in the kitchen as always directing the dishes, forks, and knives to their respective drawers. Miles was simply watching over little Mayday, Gwen was dusting the shelves with her plumes, and Lyla was simply just chatting away with Pavitir

“Everyone, we have work to do, Miguel has finally and formally asked Y/N to a dance…. it's finally time to make this castle shine!” 

Miles cheers “and we’ll be human again !!” Jess sighed as she envisioned herself as her ladylike self “human again indeed…” Peter smiled, “When I’m human again, I’ll be good looking again, and I’ll be able to hug my baby in my arms again!” Miles cheers “when I’m human again, I’m going to run out into the garden just to feel the blood rush to my feet!” Jess chirps in “we’ll all get our chance to do what we miss when we’re human again, but for now…we have a dance to prepare!”

The entirety of the staff who lived in the castle cheered in excitement as they could finally tend and maintain their home. Pavitir, who was in the ballroom, started playing music on his keys to compose enough songs for Miguel and Y/N to dance to. Hobie, in y/n’s room, started picking and choosing fabrics in his cabinets and deciding which color suited Y/N the most as well. The brooms started sweeping, the mops and buckets started to work together to start cleaning the floor as well, the coat hangers helped pulling down the dilapidated curtains throughout the castle and replacing them with new curtains, the candles started organizing themselves onto the chandelier, and the cook had started picking and choosing courses for the dinner that will be eaten. 

______________________________________________________________

A week later…The day of the dance has arrived, and here Miguel is taking a huge bath in the tub. Soap is constantly lathered onto his fur, and dirt is removed each time until the water turns clear.

“I-I I’m not so sure I can do this…” Miguel says hesitantly. Peter scoffs “Oh please, Tonight is the night you’ll be able to confess to her, It’s now or nothing!” Miguel looks down as he has a bucket of water thrown over his body “b-but…what can I do?” Peter rolls his eyes “oh please, you have to be bold, daring, and smooth” Miguel nodded as he took note of what Peter was telling him. 

After his bath he was taken to his vanity and sat there as Peter kept on babbling in excitement “There will be romantic music, candlelight provided by Lyla and Miles and when the moment is right, you profess your love to her” Miguel sighed “oh please… how would I even know when the time is right?” Jess, who was standing on the vanity with Miles, Gwen, and Lyla all looked at him as they saw his nervousness. “Just some tips from a woman, all you gotta do is woo her with the music” Gwen pitches in “I think you’ll get nauseous when telling the truth...” Miles tries to encourage him “I think you’ll do fine sir…”

Peter looks at him and sighs “stop being so nervous and just tell Y/N how you feel because I swear you will be drinking cold tea for the rest of your life!”  Miguel gulped a little and nodded. The hairdresser finally arrived and immediately started working on Miguel’s fur, Others who worked in beauty polished his claws, brushed his teeth, cleaned his horns, and added perfumes onto him. Gwen used her feathers to add foundation onto his face and add his makeup. By the time they were all finished, they turned him around to look at the mirror and everyone’s face dropped .... clearly…the poodle looking updo and white makeup did not look great on his fur. “Ok…I-I can fix this" Peter says.

On the other hand, at the east wing, Hobie was helping Y/N getting into her golden gown. The two of them worked together as Y/N picked the design and Hobie used his magic to make the gown come to life. After Y/N got into the dress, Hobie looked at her and hummed “There sum missin ‘ere” He then looked into his drawers one more time and pulled out some gold accents. The wardrobe smiled at Y/N as it decorated her gown and added sparkle and shine “now yer ready Dovie” he says softly. Jess arrived at her door and cleared her throat “it is time...”

Y/N stepped out of her room and stood by her side of the stairs, on the other side she spotted Miguel, his mane was tied with a ribbon in the back and wore an extravagant blue suit. Y/N blushed a little at his appearance, seeing how his arms bulged out a bit from his suit and how tall and gentlemanly he stood. Miguel on the other side saw her and his heart melted, she was truly gorgeous and seemed extremely precious in his eyes. The two slowly descended from each side of the staircase and met in the middle. “Join me for dinner?” Adenira smiled and nodded as she held onto his arm and walked alongside him for dinner. The two sat beside each other and enjoyed a nice 3 course meal, the two laughed and dined and enjoyed a pleasant meal together. Eventually Pavitir arrived with a small ensemble and started playing music. Y/N heard it and smiled and got up and grabbed both of his arms “come, dance with me “she said excitedly. Miguel was just too enamored by her and got up with her to the ballroom. “Pero…no sé cómo bailar…”  Y/N smiled and brought his arm around her waist and held his hand on the other side “then learn with me” She then started waltzing with him. Miguel was a little awkward but eventually figured out how to dance with her and confidently led her and twirled her around the ballroom. Y/N was just so happy to be dancing with him and laid her head against his warm furry chest. The two waltzed and waltzed until both of their feet hurt. Once the two danced their hearts out, Miguel led her out onto the balcony and looked at the stars with her. He sat down on a ledge and nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he built some courage to speak to her.

“Y/N?” Miguel says tenderly. Y/N looked up at him and smiled as he got closer and held her hands. “Estás feliz conmigo ?” Y/N smiled at him and nodded “claro que si” she said softly but then she suddenly looked down. Miguel noticed and frowned “what’s wrong?” Y/N sighed... “Well…it’s just that…I wish I could just see my papa…por solo un momento…I miss him dearly...”  Miguel looked disheartened for her and thought about how to make her wish come true. Then he remembered…the magic mirror, He smiled at her and held her hands tightly “there is a way, come follow me!” 

He excitedly took her all the way to his room in the west wing and took her to where the rose was on the table. On the side there was the mirror. He took the mirror into his hands and handed it to her “this mirror can show you anything you wish to see” Y/N took the mirror into her hands and whispered, “I’d like to see mi papa…please” The mirror glowed yellow and revealed to her the current state of her father. In the mirror it showed Mauricio lying in bed weakly with what seemed to show that he was ill and with a fever. “No…papa…” she said worriedly “Esta Enfermo, h-he may be dying and he’s all alone” she said looking up at Miguel. Miguel looked at her with worry as well, he didn’t want Y/N to feel so anguished over her father’s current state. He took a look at the rose and looked at it with all the pain in his eyes…. he knew what to do…he knew the consequences…and he knew…that this could be goodbye... “Then...you must go to him.”

“Que?” Y/N looked at him surprised and approached him. “I release you… you’re no longer my prisoner...” Y/N looked at him with relief and with much empathy towards him “I’m free?” “Yes…” 

Y/N approached him to return the mirror to him. “No…keep it.. So you could at least have something to remember me by” Miguel looked at her lovingly and also with much hurt in his eyes. He had to take in her appearance one more time before she left, caressing her hair and watching as the locks fell from his paws. “Thank you for understanding how much he needs me now.” she said softly. Y/N’s eyes were filled with gratitude and with so much tenderness…she was afraid of never seeing him again, but at least the magic mirror would give her peace of mind if she wished to see him again. Y/N caressed his face one last time and left the room. Miguel reached towards her but stopped himself. His ears drooped and he sighed.

Jess noticed Y/N walking away from the room and she peeked in to talk to Miguel “I hope I can assume that everything went perfectly” she said with a smirk. “I let her go.” “What? But why? how could you do that Migs ?!” Jess said in shock. Peter walked in and his heart dropped as well watching the scene before him. “I had to Jessica…I did it because…I Love Her...”

Jess sighed and walked out of the room to break the news to the rest of the staff. Little Mayday sniffled “so I won't bwe a whittle girl again?” Miles hugged her tightly as he comforted her. Lyla sighed “but we were so close!” Peter chuckled to himself as he looked down dejected “After all of these years, He’s finally learned to love.”

Heartbroken, Miguel watches Y/N ride Felipe out the palace gardens and to the gates And he roared….

taglist:

@cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles,@xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n,

@badbishsblog, @faimmm, @texanadmirer, @stargirrls, @itzsab,@delectableworm,@jadeloverxd @pinkmistart, @kishimiest, @beabfleab

[hunterbunter3000]

Thinking about a fake dating scenario like say Sweets family is always bothering her about not dating anyone and she lies and says “actually I am seeing someone!” But then they ask to meet the person so now she has to find someone ti be her fake date. I would imagine the boys would be fighting each other for a chance to do that.

I know this is super random haha I’m just talking to talk at this point.

YES! AND RANDOM IS GOOD 👏👏 talk the talk and walk the walk babes! Any ideas you have SPEAK ON IT!!! 💓

But omg you're right, they would

Sweetheart walked in the living room, where the team was sitting on the couch drinking beers. She was talking on the phone as she walked past them to the kitchen, not even noticing the boys.

And she's talking to her mom about her love life. Saying "Yes ma! I will bring him this time!" And "You can tell Danni to shut the hell up cause he is real". And then she says love you and hangs up the phone.

Sweetheart, looking at everybody:

The boys looking at her:

Sweetheart: Okay who wants to be my boyfriend for the day

then they all say M E

And all hell breaks loose 💀💀

Soap: What tae FUCK do y'mean 'mE', Ghost?

Ghost: the fuck do YOU mean 'mEaH', Mactavish?

Soap: I SAID ME

Ghost: nah see-- you did it again. 'MeAh'. It's two letters.

Soap: AH WULL PUMPIN' BREAK YE YAH BRITISH CRUMPET

Sweetheart: uhm, guys?

Gaz: Bitch don't even try

Horangi: And why should I listen to you?

Gaz: You get a nose bleed everytime Sweets hugs you.

Horangi: WHAT?? HOW DO-- HOW CAN YOU EVEN SEE THAT I WEAR A MASK

Gaz: it drips under it, bruv. And I don't think her parents want to witness an extremely touched starved man get an aneurysm everytime their daughter touches him.

Sweetheart: GOOD LORD GAZ--

Horangi: OH YOU THINK YOU'RE SO MUCH BETTER? YOU CRY EVERYTIME SWEETHEART TELLS YOU A GOOD JOB

Gaz: YO I DO NOT-

Ghost: He cries when Capitan says it too.

Horangi: THAT TOO

Gaz: GHOST STAY THE FUCK OUT OF THIS

Price: You cry when I tell you good job?

Sweetheart, kinda touched but concerned: And you cry when I say it too?

Gaz: UHM- SIR I-- WELL SWEETS YOU-- FUCK

Krueger: Ignoring the emotionally unstable man--

Gaz: HEY

Krueger: You should take me, Kleine Göttin.

König: Don't, Sweets. You'll never return if you do

Krueger: König what the fuck

Krueger: You can't even talk your way into getting gas at a gas station, you think her parents want to see you freeze like a tortoise having sex when they talk to you?

König: AT LEAST I DONT SNIFF ANY SEATS SWEETHEART WAS IN

Krueger: THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS

König: IT HAS E V E R Y T H I N G TO DO WITH THIS

Sweetheart: Krueger-- YOU DO WHAT

Ghost: He also sniffs your hair

Sweetheart: You do that too, Ghost

Ghost, stares at Krueger: Not while you're sleeping.

Sweetheart: KRUEGER????

Krueger: GHOST SHUT THE FUCK U P

Alejandro: Please don't take Krueger, mama. He would end up in prison

Krueger: (angry German words)

Alejandro: You can take me! They'll love my charm.

Price: What, so you can flirt your way out of personal questions they'll most definitely ask you?

Ghost: Especially with that five-palm forehead you got

Alejandro: CÁLLATE LA BOCA DECORACIÓN DE HALLOWEEN

Rudy: Price, you have no say in this matter. You can practically be her father's golfing buddy.

Sweetheart: uhm, my dad doesn't golf--

Price: I'm 37 you fucking Muppet

Sweetheart: nevermind.

Rudy, surprised: Really?? Damn I didn't know that! You just looked like one of Super Mario's long lost cousins to me because of the janitor mustache you have on your old body

Price: Mother fucker--

Ghost: I don't think you would do well either when you look like a human gopher

Rudy: GHOST WHERE DO YOU KEEP COMING FROM

Alex: ROACH OW STOP HITTING MY FACE

Roach on Alex's shoulders:�� pap-pap-pap-pap-pap-pap (like a fucking cat)

Sweetheart, rubbing her temples: Oh my fucking GOD- I'LL JUST CHOOSE MYSELF THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG AND GAZ LOOKS LIKE HES ABOUT TO CRY

Gaz, tearing up: I AM NOT

Soap: Me!

Horangi: It's me!

Graves, picking his nails:

Graves: It's probably not me.

Keegan: Uh... If it's no trouble, you can take me. I have to give your brother his game boy back anyway

Everyone looking at Keegan:

Soap: w u t

She takes Keegan.

(He honestly had a good time! Yes, he did start a fire with her siblings accidentally but other than that her parents loved him. Sweetheart sent pictures to everyone and omg they were so SALTY SAD AND JEALOUS. Ghost kinda smiled at a picture with Sweetheart and Keegan together, Keegan's face without the mask and grease paint wearing a nervous but kind smile. He looks happy. The others don't but they'll get over it someday💀💀)

[evie-sturns]

pick me up - Matt Sturniolo

summary: you get heavily rejected at a house party, matt comes to pick you up while you're in tears.

contains: !bestfriend matt, fluff, sfw, swearing.

———-----------------*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*---------—————

blaring music rang through my ears as i pushed through the crowd of people, coming face to face with the boy ive had ny eyes on since the 8th grade.

"hey, didn't expect to see you here!" i say chirpily, gripping the red solo cup in my hand as my knuckles turn white. he looks me up and down "well obviously im here its my fucking houseparty" he says blankly, i feel the tips of my ears go red as all of his friends stare at me.

"oh, must've forgot." i say nervously as i look everywhere but him.

the silence grows between us as i regret not drinking more earlier, im notoriously more confident when drunk. suddenly my mouth opens.

"wanna go upstairs?" i say biting my lip and looking up at him.

all of his friends collapse into laughter, including him. "yeah.. nope, your probably the last person i'd choose. sorry." he says, turning his back to me, he laughs to his friends "who does this desperate whore think she is?" he scoffs.

i feel my eyes burn as i rush towards the front door, i swing it open "what the fuck dude" a guy yells as the door smashes into his knees. i ignore him as tears well in my eyes, i run down the front steps of the porch, theres a few people scattered in the front lawn.

the music becomes more muffled and quiet as i run farther away from the party. i take a seat on side walk reaching into my purse for my phone as my hands shake, tears stream down my cheeks as i dial matts number.

matts been my bestfriend for as long i can remember, hes the only person whos been there for me through everything, hes also the only person that would be awake at 1:30am.

the phone rings 3 times before he picks up.

"matt?" i say sniffling.

"y/n? you alright, i'm about to go to bed." he mumbles into the phone.

"please pick me up, i shared my location" i say shakily holding back tears.

"ugh. fine." he groans, clearly not noticing how upset i am.

i look up as i see matts van driving down the street, he honks twice as his van approaches me. i stand up as his car gets closer, the headlights shine right on my face, which had mascara smudged all over it. his face instantly drops as he sees mine.

he jumps out of his van and speed walks towards me "hey, hey what happened?" he says looking at me, worry spread across his face. i don't respond, i know i'll start crying if i do.

without warning he picks me up, carrying me as he opens the passenger side to his van placing me down and buckling me in.

he sits down in the driver seat and looks me in my eyes, my bottom lip quivers as i try to maintain eye contact. the lump in my throat grows as he stays silent, waiting for me to speak.

suddenly i burst into sobs, matts eyes instantly widen as he grabs my hand. tears flow down my face as ragged breaths escape my throat.

"matt i asked him if he wanted to go upstairs with me, he laughed, so did all his friends, he said.." i squeeze out in-between sobs as i throw my face into my hands

"what did he say?" matt says calmly, but i can sense his worry.

"he said i was his last choice, and i was a desperate whore." i cry.

matt stays silent for a few second "oh sweetheart.." matt says leaning over the cupholder and pulling me into a tight hug. "you wanna come home with me? i think it will be easier." he says trying to distract me and i nod.

(20 minutes later)

my tears have stopped for now, i dont want to make matt feel bad.

we pull into his driveway and he helps me out of the car, grabbing my purse and holding my hand, taking me inside. "nick and chris are asleep, so try be quiet okay?" he says softly as we walk into his room.

i bend over to take off my black heels. matt rummaged through his drawers and pulls out one of his t-shirts and some sweatpants, "you can wear these, they'll be too big but its fine." he says handing them to me.

"you didnt have to-" im cut off my a finger on my lips "its literally the bare minimum, go get dressed." he says smiling and pushing me into his bathroom.

after a few minutes, i walk out into his bedroom, he's on his phone lying in bed. "feeling better?" he says looking up at me then standing up. "yeah matt, honestly thank you." i say as he pulls back his duvet covers. he walks over to me and picks me up, launching me into his bed from a meter away, i gasp loudly as i hit the matress. matt collapses into laughter "my bad."

i catch my breath as he yanks the cover up to cover me, "wait matt where the fuck are you sleeping?" i say concerned. he walks over to me and pushes me to the side of the bed. he leaps into bed beside me, launching me a half foot into the air "are you trying to kill me matt?" i say slapping his arm as he laughs.

"go to sleep." he says pressing a kiss to my forehead before laying down beside me.

———-----------------*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*---------————

cute!! dont be shy send me some requests yall

[obsob]

I'm an artist who has difficulty colouring work, so if you're ever comfortable sharing i would love to see what the process of someone else to who colouring does not come natural look like! I love how your colours turn out, so warm and cohesive without being washed out. When I look at the process of other artists I admire they often seem to hit on their colours quickly, so it would be very helpful to see the process of someone who struggles more, like I do.

hi !!! i posted process vids for these three drawings which u might find helpful but they go pretty quick so i will try and explain more!

-my big number one advice is doing underpainting, this is all the yellow u see me use in the process vids. this is partly so i can alpha lock them for easy colouring but also, i use semi-opaque brushes when doing my main colouring which lets the yellow peek through every part of the drawing, giving everything a uniform undertone! very very helpful i recommend it a lot :3 things like overlay / multiply layers can help bring all your colours together as well and make a big difference. i also like to use soft light / subtract layer modes. just play around!! i do however think its good practice for your drawing to work without those modes as well, you dont want to rely on them to make the drawing work, just enhance it! heres a drawing of mine with and without the various layer modes - a big difference and more impactful with, but the drawing on the left still looks fine without!

-as for how i go about choosing colours i hve two ways. mainly nowadays i just eyeball it but i also sometimes use colour pallets like these! how i make these palettes is by auto generating palettes from images in procreate which is so so helpful. if u see artwork u rlly like the colours its a great way of trying those colours for yourself without having to do as much thinking. when u get a sense for it u can start coming up with your own palettes!

-i cant talk abt this without talking about colour theory. i am not an expert but its really worth familiarising yourself with what colours work / contrast each other. if u want to, for example make a warm toned drawing u simply just stay away from cool toned colours! u can still have them in, but there still needs to be a warm undertone that can be done with the underpainting or just eyeballing! i hvent used palettes for a long while now and ive always found it easier to choose cohesive palettes with these than using the like big wheel or smth.

i prefer picking colours like this bc i feel like i can more easily control the undertone, than if i was picking off a colour wheel etc.

a lot of my success just comes from practice and experience! but smtimes colours r just stinky n are hard to get th vibes for . i usually just walk away and take a break and smtimes have an epiphany and other times if ur rlly struggling just throw the whole colouring out and start again !! and if ur rlly rlly rlly struggling take a look at ur actual drawing again. smtimes if ur composition/ shading etc is weird it makes the colours go on wack bc u dont have a good foundation!!!!!

anyway i dont think i explained this well. go forth and colour ur brain is big etc

[krypticcafe]

Hello! This is my first time asking someone but can you do 141 men reacting to us being hypersexual? I dont see any of those ones😅

Task Force 141 men w/a hypersexual partner

rating: mature

character(s): GN!Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound

warning(s): language, emotions(?), sexual themes, possible inaccuracies, mentions of trauma

a/n: An interesting request! I'll try my best to be accurate, but I can't guarantee it'll be perfect as someone who does not go through hypersexuality and a lot of resources online tend to only go over symptoms and general medical help but not a lot on how it affects relationships. So please please PLEASE correct me if needed, and I'll make the necessary changes!!

Gaz

I think out of all the guys, he'd be the only one who's heard of it, though he isn't all that educated about it.

With how Gaz is, you're actually quite comfortable discussing it early on in your relationship, bringing it up one day while you two are just talking about things.

He listens and nods along, occasionally commenting here and there, but he mostly listens. When you mention how it can be caused by trauma, you appreciate that he asks but tells you you don't have to if you're uncomfortable. He's just super understanding.

Also super low-key about it.

For example, if you tell him, signal, or if he can tell you're kinda going through it, he'll come up with a quick excuse to pull you aside and talk it out or do something else.

He already knows a bunch of exercises to keep your mind from reeling, small games to keep you grounded, and supervises you for a bit.

If you choose to, Gaz will absolutely support you if you pursue therapy! He'll especially praise you for any progress you make.

All in all, 10/10 boyfriend.

Price

It'll definitely take a while for him to wrap his head around the concept, but as long as you just communicate, things should be fine.

If and when you guys have sex, he's always checking in here and there, making sure you're good but not overdoing it so that it becomes overbearing.

Outside of that, if you're having trouble coping and physical touch helps, he's the best man for it.

His arms will wrap around you snugly, and just listening to his heartbeat alone can help soothe you. Sometimes, he'll hum to you or help massage your back. You find his voice to be helpful with how firm and direct it is, so he'll often converse with you to get your mind off things.

Definitely will give you resources if you ask. Need a therapist? He's got a reliable list. Need tools like sex toys? No shame, he'll get what you need. Ran out of medication? Just picked some up.

Keep in mind he can't always tell if you're having issues since he's quite busy when he's not alone with you, so you two developed a small signal to help each other out if needed.

Don't forget to reassure him too because he worries he's doing something wrong a lot of the time, so again, just communicate with him!

Soap

He's a little confused, but he's got the spirit.

It does take you a while to work up the courage not because you're worried about the shame of telling him, but more about if he'll understand.

When he first hears it, he kinda confuses it for higher libido but you quickly correct him.

"Ah, so it's not just impulsive but intrusive?"

From there, oh he's very, very sweet about it.

One of his best traits is how distracting he is so you can bet your ass he will find a way to keep your mind off things and humor you. He asks a lot of questions, but that's just his way of expressing his concern and care! Again, he's a super observant boy.

He'll always give you distance if that's what you need, but if you need some physical or verbal help, he's there in a heartbeat. If you guys are intimate, he'll take it slow and be loving as possible. He's happy to provide.

Oh, but if he hears you talking badly about yourself, he's quick to shut it down because hearing you call yourself 'dirty' or feeling 'used' has him very distressed.

"But I'm-"

"But nothing. You listen to me, okay? I would never think of you like that and I want you to know that to me, you're more than that, you're more than-" He stumbles over his words, "-jesus, you're everything and I don't want you thinking that you'll ever be less than that to me, alright?"

It's a hard pill to swallow, but his words are nothing but the truth, just as genuine as he is. After that, you start taking more of his words to heart.

Ghost

It's hard to tell what Simon's thinking a lot of the time, but rest assured, it's anything but judgment.

He thanks you for telling him and acknowledging how difficult it is. After all, you've done the same for him.

He's not gonna treat you like a porcelain doll, but that doesn't mean he's not gonna be cautious if guys have sex, he gets how vulnerable it can feel, being exposed, so it's something the two of you work through together.

He's also prone to getting upset if he hears you speaking badly about yourself, and admittedly, he's kind of brash and blunt at first when trying to confront you about it but over time, he learns to better express his concern.

With time, he'll steadily find more ways to keep your mind off of it. So far, he finds he's best at it via spending time with you like cuddling, or when he invites you to do different physical activities like exercising, taking walks, or sparring with him.

If you need help focusing or you take medication or therapy, expect him to nag about it!

"Did you go to the-"

"Yes, love, don't worry, I have. Thank you for asking."

You know he's looking out for you, and you couldn't be any more grateful.

Roach

Very much like Gaz, he's quick to understand.

"The girls who get it, get it" type of energy

He'll ask questions, but if he sees you getting skittish or awkward about it, he'll change the subject.

When he's nonverbal, he knows it'll be difficult to help you, especially if you're struggling to focus on his signs.

So what he does is he'll take your hand and trace a question mark in your hand, asking what's wrong and having you explain. If you need to calm down, he'll trace little shapes and hearts in your palms, intertwine his fingers with you, and help guide your breathing before asking questions.

If you struggle with finding other ways to be intimate or expressing yourself in your relationship, he'll show you what he likes, love languages of his, and such.

During a long mission, he had found you particularly frustrated. Rather than shaming you, he offered to help you get tidied up and take you out on a date.

The two of you went trinket shopping at the local town, though he was mostly buying you whatever you showed interest in, which quickly grew overwhelming.

But hey, it worked to brighten your mood, so it's a win in his book.

Hound

Oh he's so understanding. Hound isn't hypersexual themselves, but they understand the struggles of having highly impulsive and intrusive thoughts and actions, and more than understand the pain and shame that stems.

He expresses that he's proud of you for confiding in him something so personal and being comfortable enough to tell him

From there, he's very attentive to your needs and makes sure you're never overdoing it when indulging in NSFW.

If you two have sex, then it probably starts as a slow process to get comfortable, since Hound has their own sexual anxieties. But they're more than willing to take the reigns, establishing boundaries and patiently communicating with you even if it's difficult. In the end, it's a very vulnerable and intimate experience for the both of you.

In the case things have to stop, he'll clean things up, reassure and praise you, while finding something else for you two to do, like a movie night or cuddling.

Or if you're needy but they're not in the mood, Hound will help you redirect that energy somewhere else and makes sure you don't feel ashamed or insecure.

Personally, their favorite way of helping you is asking you about your interests or hyperfixes because they just love listening to you talk so passionately and just learning more about you so they can spoil you for future reference.

But sometimes you just need him to completely envelop you in his arms and give you something else to feel instead of that frustration, something to feel loved.

[agaypanic]

They're open yay omg!! Ok I had a cute idea for Rodrick Heffley if you're up for it! :)

Rodrick x Male!Reader where reader sings him 'boyfriend' by Big Time Rush the same way that Rodrick sang 'baby' by Justin Bieber for that one girls birthday (I literally don't remember her name lol but also it doesn't have to be his birthday) but like, it doesn't end as badly as it did for him lmao

Idk if they should be an established relationship between him and reader or if this is like readers confession so ill let you choose what you feel like writing for!

Boyfriend (Rodrick Heffley X Male!Guitarist!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: While waiting for your friends to show up to band practice, you decide to show Rodrick a new song you’ve been working on.

A/N: this is my first time writing for rodrick so pls lmk how i did! au where reader wrote ‘boyfriend’ instead of btr (with a few tweaks). rodrick and reader are in the talking stage (i dont wanna say situationship but ig that works lol) but their friends dont know about it. the only instrument i know about is the violin so sorry if i get anything wrong. also i think doing singing in stories/fics is kinda weird/awkward but whatever lol

***

You always cherished the few minutes you had alone with Rodrick during band practice. Sure, you liked your other friends. But there was something about being able to watch Rodrick not put on the whole ‘bad boy rocker’ persona that he was used to wearing. Around you, he felt like he could wind down and not think as much.

Although, he didn’t think too much in the first place.

“I think we have a real shot at winning this talent show,” Rodrick said, drumming a beat on your thigh as he watched you tune your guitar. “We just need to practice more.”

“Well, I think we sound fine right now.”

“We don’t need to sound fine; we need to sound great!”

“Chill out, Roddy.” You said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a month away; we have plenty of time.”

“Don’t call me that.” Despite his words, the corner of Rodrick’s lip twitched up at the nickname. You were the only one who called him that. At first, he didn’t like it; it wasn’t a hardcore rocker name. But soon, he found himself getting giddy at the softness of it. “I guess you’re right, though.” 

Rodrick strummed his fingers across the strings of your guitar, laughing when you slapped his hand away.

“Work on anything new lately?” He asked, looking up at you from his hunched-over position. Along with being the guitarist, you were one of the main songwriters in Löded Diper, having many one-on-one writing sessions with Rodrick. That’s how the two of you grew closer, going from childhood friends playing on slides to somewhere between friends and something more, playing songs. Secret handshakes turned to lingering touches, and loud laughs turned to whispered jokes.

You were a bit hesitant to answer. You had been working on some new songs, but they didn’t exactly fit the Löded Diper brand. They were love songs, most, if not all, written with Rodrick in mind. 

“Kind of.” You finally say, picking at a frayed edge of your jeans. Rodrick perked up, always loving your new material.

“Yeah? Show me!”

“It’s not exactly like the stuff we play.” You argue, a bit anxious at the thought of Rodrick hearing what you had been toying with recently. “Besides, it’s not finished.”

Rodrick just shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Show me anyway.”

You hated how you could never say no to those eyes. You sighed and finally agreed, fiddling with your guitar while trying to remember the chords.

“No laughing.” You say.

“When do I ever laugh at you, Y/n?”

“All the time.” With that, you started playing. You gave Rodrick a nervous glance before clearing your throat and singing.

“Have you ever had the feeling you’re drawn to someone?

And there isn’t anything they could of said or done?

And everyday I see you on your own

And I can’t believe that you’re alone

But I overheard your friends and this is what they said”

Looking over at Rodrick, you saw him intently listening. Any other time, you’d be prideful of the fact that all his attention was on you. But right now, it made you wanna run. But you stayed planted in your seat and continued with the song.

“That you’re looking for a boyfriend

I see that, gimme time, you know I’m gonna be there

Don’t be scared to come put your trust in me

Can’t you see all I really want to be

Is your boyfriend

Can’t fight that

Knock me down you know I’m coming right back

I don’t care at all what you done before

All I really want is to be your

Boyfriend”

You let the last chord ring out before you set your guitar down and cleared your throat.

“So, yeah…” Rodrick kept staring at you. “That’s… the song.”

Rodrick scooted closer to you, and you lifted your head to face him eye-to-eye.

“Did you write that about me?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You bit your lip, watching how his hair fell from the movement.

“Depends.” You say, taking a deep breath. “Did you like it?”

Suddenly, Rodrick laughed. It made you stiffen, but you soon relaxed when he put a hand on the back of your neck.

“You’re so corny, dude.” He said before closing the gap between you. 

After the shock washed away, you gripped at his hair and ratty t-shirt, wanting to keep him close. You had come close to kissing Rodrick a few times, mainly while drunk at parties that you shouldn’t have been at or during writing sessions that eventually got interrupted by Rodrick’s younger brother Greg. But those close moments didn’t prepare you for how good the real thing felt.

When you parted, you rested your forehead on Rodrick’s as the two of you caught your breath. You opened your eyes and moved back a bit so you could see him clearly.

“So…” You start, not knowing what to do from here. “Are you looking for a boyfriend?”

“Sure.” Rodrick snorted before kissing you again.

[princessanonymous]

omg i just read your vampire story and it’s sooo good😩😩 i had to rewatch interview with a vampire after i read that masterpiece. i do wonder though, what happens to them in the modern age? do they still live in the mansion? do they relocate? does the reader have more permission to go outside? thank youuu <3333

𝓐𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 (Ask)

When Night Comes asks Platonic Yandere Vampire Story Chapter list

So sorry for taking so long!! I was busy with life and when I finally found the time to sit down and write it down, I didn't have the proper time to correct it bcuz of exams... I have one tomorrow but I really just wanted to finally post this. Another ask is probably coming soon but i can't really promise anything since i have a physics exam followed by one in chemistry 3 days later and one in math coming soon too. Life really isn't on my side now!

Still, here it is!

(Also some of yall might have noticed but I like putting these answers into little situation instead of telling it outright. Hope yall dont mind)

(+ This takes place during the cold war. I found it to be fitting.)

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

“I can’t believe I accepted to stay in this dreadful place,” muttered her father as they walked into the new house they had bought. “This house is too small.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” quipped her dad while shaking his head, “this is what mortal Americans settle with. And they do it quite easily; this is the biggest house in the neighborhood.”

“That is the problem,” groaned her father while they walked through the already furnished house. It was a good thing her parents had paid people to do this tedious task. “We have never lived in a neighborhood before. There is no space! We don’t even have our own forest!”

“You agreed to let the little one choose our next home,” he reminded the other with a sigh. “That is her choice.”

The blond frown in distaste and looked around the living room. “Well I didn’t expect her to choose such a mediocre manor. This is utterly ridiculous.” He pinched the bridge of his noise in annoyance and exasperation as he settled in one of the satin armchairs in the room.

The girl puffed her cheeks, vexed by these words. Yes, it was true the house was smaller than the three other homes they had inhabited in America, it was definitely something she would need to get used to, but that didn’t make it less fun. Ever since they had left their motherland for the new world due to the constant attacks and bombings during the war, her existence had been filled with a neverending kaleidoscope of information and new things to see. America was nothing like England: everything was bigger and people acted so differently. 

She had indeed chosen this manor in Pennsylvania for a reason. It was gloomy and often cloudy there, just like they all preferred it. Additionally, while it was not the size her father was used to, she knew it was big enough for him to not outright refuse her request; they wouldn’t remain here very long though, but she could accept that. 

Most importantly… neighborhoods were filled with other children, and that was really the only thing that really mattered to her. The idea of interacting with others, even if they were mortals, made her giddy. If her father knew the real reason for her insistence on this estate, the girl knew he would refuse instantly, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him – or (Y/n).

—---

It took a week before she finally was able to meet people. The day was gloomy and clouds were in the sky, indicating incoming rain. Two boys passed by the house as she was swinging on the swing her parents had ordered installed for her. She watched as they came and went multiple times, playing with their blue ball and almost cackled in glee when one of the boys, the younger one, a boy with red messy hairs and freckles, who looked to be nine years old, threw the ball too far away and it landed close to her. She stood from her swing quickly to pick up the ball and stood–

“Careful!” warned the older, a boy with dark skin and brown eyes, who only looked slightly older than she did. The girl suspected he might be thirteen or fourteen.

It was too late, because not even a second later, she felt the seat of the swing collide with her back and she fell on the floor. The two boys ran to her; the youngest holding the swing as the older one helped her stand up. She winced, hoping her father hadn’t heard the commotion; she knew he would be mad if learned she was interacting with mortals. She didn’t want to be confined to her room for a year like he had done before.

The girl shuddered at the memory. Maybe trying this wasn’t a good idea; if he found out, he would surely do worse, he had promised it last time. She didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to remain confined again.

She hated how cold and lonely and empty her room felt when it was the only thing she saw for months, she–

“You alright there?” Asked the oldest with his brows furrowed, unaware of the fact that he had snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.

She nodded, still dazed and gave them their ball. They thanked her and the other mortal asked, “Are you living here? Nobody’s seen the new inhabitants yet. Mom says it’s impolite to not even greet anybody after moving in. Mom said only communists would do such an impolite thing.”

(Y/n) squirmed, embarrassed by these words. She didn’t know anything about neighborly etiquette. Should she have researched the subject before? She doubted her father was informed on that matter, but perhaps her dad knew more; he had always been more aware of mortal things than they were. 

The older glared at the youngest and lightly slapped the back of his head. “Rem, you can't just say that!”

“You heard her say it too!” Protested the redhead in outrage, ready to defend his statement.

The older one sighed and shook his head before rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “Excuse my step-brother, Jeremy; he doesn’t know what he’s saying. I’m Kenneth. We live just across from here.”

A smile graced her features again. "My name is (Y/n)," she introduced herself with a graceful tilt of her head, her voice carrying a controlled and melodic cadence, "how do you do? I live here with my fathers." She had to make a good impression.

Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “You have an accent,” he noted in fascination. “Where are you from? You're not a communist, are you? Mom said we can't speak to those.”

(Y/n) sensed some mistrust coming from him, and she quickly used her empath abilities to soothe him before his words registered in her mind. (Y/n)'s expression faltered for a moment, a hint of confusion clouding her features before she shook her head lightly. “I don’t have an accent,” she denied while pointing at him, “You do have an American accent though.”

The redhead shook his head in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of defiance. “Americans don’t have accents, silly,” he retorted with a grin, his eyes alight with amusement.

But (Y/n) wasn't about to let the matter go so easily. She protested adamantly, insisting that she could clearly hear the distinct nuances in his speech. Back and forth they bantered, neither willing to concede their stance on the matter  before eventually realizing they wouldn’t agree on that matter. 

"But where are you from?" he asked, his tone gentle yet insistent, "You're not from here, are you?"

She shook her head. "No, I was born in England,” she revealed, her voice carrying a faint trace of longing for her homeland. She still missed England dearly. She knew vampires typically never spent more than a century in the same country, but she had still been devastated when her parents had decided to leave; even more when they sailed to a different continent altogether. 

Jeremy looked starstruck, their small innocuous disagreement already far behind in his mind, thanks to her abilities. "Really? Did you ever meet the queen?" he asked eagerly, his imagination already running wild with visions of royal encounters and grand palaces. 

She giggled at that, then tilted her head, contemplating the question. After a brief moment of contemplation, she realized that he was likely referring to Queen Elizabeth II, rather than Queen Victoria. "No, never," she replied with a casual shrug, noting the slight disappointment that flickered across Jeremy's face at her response.

"Hey, wanna join us tomorrow at two o'clock? We'll be down this street with all the neighborhood kids. Probably going to play Hide-and-seek.”

(Y/n) smiled warmly at the invitation, her curiosity piqued by the prospect of joining in with the neighborhood kids. "Sure, I'd love to!" she replied eagerly, the thought of meeting new mortals outweighing any concerns she might have had about the unfamiliar game they mentioned.

Although she had never heard of Hide-and-seek before, (Y/n) was undeterred. As she agreed to meet them the following day at two o'clock, her mind was already buzzing with anticipation. (Y/n) knew she would have to find a way to sneak out without her fathers noticing, but she was determined not to let that stop her from joining in on the fun. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she began plotting a way to sneak out, confident that she could pull it off.

[undercoverpena]

ix. not his place. not your place.

javier peña x dea f!reader | chapter nine of nowhere to run

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. use of a nickname. mentions of smut. feelings. angst. anxiety. ptsd. love thoughts. word count: 6.5k.

AN: sorry for the wait, I got really in my head about it all, but thank you to @yeyinde who listens to me ramble about my writing woes and also to the brilliant @guyfieriii who tells me things my brain won't let me believe.

dedication: i dont normally do dedications, but a special one to @thelightsandtheroses because her love for this has made me want to keep chipping away, even if i lost my way. thank you for being such a light.

You’d love to say that you'd been his the moment you had stood in his office. 

But you hadn’t. 

You fought losing yourself in his brown eyes more times than you’d like to count. 

Somewhere between his face being between your thighs and you riding him, you’d been sucked in—like a moth to a flame. 

You’d been able to peel back the thrown-up walls, while he’d been assessing how to take down yours. Until the two of you are both standing in rubble, staring at one another more bare than you have been in bed. 

“You have to work with Don Berna?” 

He’s looking at you, swiping his tongue across his teeth. Your heart falling in your chest. 

“Shit…”

“Indeed.”

The house of cards is floating down, haphazardly falling, ready to land and squash those who don’t get on the right side of it. You’re never sure if he is on the right side—not because of his past, but because they’re always one step behind. 

Chasing something, anything—everything. 

One thing away from finishing it, from drawing a red cross over another photo. 

It’s why you gnaw your lip, why your nail polish is picked off from your index, middle and thumb on the one hand, and one hand only. It’s what made you begin unravelling: the sight of your undoing evidence each time you stapled or picked up the phone. 

Because… you like him. 

Truly, like him. Could even, possibly, maybe love him. 

And it makes you want to plead. Beg him to move closer, at least. Close the gap. Let you clutch him. So much said, without words being spoken. A soft glance, warm eyes and a kind smile—both given and returned. 

“Don’t…”

But he does. 

Taking soft strides to close the gap, hand reaching up to take hold of your cheek. You know he can see the fear shimmering in your eyes. It sitting in the pools that you try to blink away. Hiding your anxiety, how much you want to protest but choose not to. 

You knew that was the thing with love, you could fight it, attempt to bury it, smother it in sex, whiskey and other destructive decisions, but it always cracked through. Always rose, standing in its flaming glory like a reborn phoenix. 

“Javi. Please…. Please don’t….” Die. Leave me.

“Not a fucking chance.” 

You let his forehead press to yours, eyes closing, managing to choke out, “Good.”

At some point along the way, before he’d gone to Cali, he had handed you a key to his place, and you had told him where your spare was. 

Easy, convenient. Practical. 

Those were the words you chose and the ones he leaned on. The two of you allowed them to be the reason you took the step, not because it made sense or felt right. 

Doing so allowed the two of you less rigid plans when it came to meeting. It allowed you not to rush as he sat outside your place, not needing to tap his steering wheel as you flicked lights on and off, dashing across your windows. It meant you didn’t have to wait to begin showering or cooking when it was time to be at yours. 

It also meant the two of you didn’t need to look in his mirror—just in case someone saw. Something he’s thankful for now, more than ever since your friends are back. 

In the days before the attempt to take down Miguel, it felt right to be in your possession for many reasons. Leaving his pocket—all heavy and meaningful—and finding a home in your palm. 

Because it also stood for something else. 

Just in case. 

The words linger, heavy and pulsing in the air. In case you need me for anything or shit hits the fan. 

Both of them are things they should keep an eye on and consider. It’s in the air, how dangerously close they all were—how things were in place, yet no clear direction paving its way. 

Then there was you. 

You who has shared all that you have with him, but won’t answer him truthfully when he asks if you’re okay. You save that for your nightmares. 

It’s another reason he handed you the key: a gesture, a promise: I’m here. So much so he hadn’t been sure how you’d react, watching you stare at it for a second before your fingers closed around it, and he felt able to breathe. 

Then you’d smirked. Is this in case I need your signature, sir? 

If his name hadn’t been shouted, he’d have congratulated you for it—slipped his tongue past your lips and tasted the coffee on your tongue. 

Instead, he spent the evening signing his name against you. First, your neck, then your collarbone, before he wrote over and over with his tongue between your slit—carving each letter, gripping your hips, controlling them as they tried to meet him. One of his palms flat on your stomach, making you wait—

Paciencia, he whispered. 

Blowing cool air over your soaked core, watching you write to wriggle, twisting yourself to meet him. Little pleas and begs leaving your lips, the same one that is more wit than honest. 

It was different. The way you two fucked. 

It had been for a little while, but that night it was noticeable, a shift ever present in the room—words sitting on the edge of his tongue as he captured kisses and swallowed your moans. 

He missed it when your nails didn’t slide down his back; he craved the way you looked at him before you let go. 

Things he hadn’t focussed on before, not with you or anyone else. 

Then, there’s the morning when he wakes to find you next to him. Sometimes asleep, sometimes just waking the same as him—sleep-filled eyes washing him in beauty, warmth, and a future that feels like he could have it. 

Though, Javi hadn’t expected to hear from you tonight—never mind seeing you. 

Had assumed that you’d be catching up with Van Ness, the two of you have clung to one another in the office—some part of you visibly snapping back into place before him. He’d have been jealous if not for how you iced out Fiestl—a smugness sitting behind his teeth as he nodded at the three of you before faking a reason to hide in his office. 

Your voice was barely a whisper when he picked up the phone, softly asking if you could come around—or whether he could come over. 

Something you never ask, which is why he’s there in record time, finding your spare and sliding it in. 

For saying usually, your door has a petulance for letting him in, the lock turns in with ease, greeting him with the darkness inside—all shadowed ornaments and streams of light from cars passing your window. Your curtains are limp, undrawn—not perfectly slid into their place as usual. 

Nothing seems as it should be, not even how your place makes him feel. Usually, it wraps warmth around him, all hopeful—swamped with happiness. Your home feels cold and withdrawn tonight—like it’s at a loss. 

The door clicks with a finality, placing the key inside the glass bowl with a chime, yet he doesn’t hear you call. Not a Javi, not a Peña. 

With each heavy step he takes, he expects light to blind him—your hand over the light switch, smirk so broad that his mind automatically takes a photo of it. It never happens. His hand moves for his phone, the other motioning for his gun as he passes the open kitchen, living room and bathroom door. 

His mind goes into overdrive, wondering if anything seemed out of place, if your voice had given anything away as he pauses outside the only one shut: your bedroom.

“Cariño…?” 

He considers knocking, tapping knuckles against wood as a warning, as a sign when he hears silence. But he twists the metal door knob in hand instead, opening it, expecting to find emptiness—made bed, cushions placed at the head. 

Javi finds none of that, removing his gun from his waistband to put on the side table—his phone following suit. 

Because what he finds instead is lit by the occasional headlight and the weak stream of the streetlight. Cold ochre shimmering across balled-up sheets, used tissues and the broken mess of a person at the centre. 

At first, he can’t tell if your eyes are open until a car slowly drives past—light reflecting from the walls and hitting your open irises. 

He says your name uneasily, each letting falling consciously from his tongue as he moves close to the bed. Only receiving the lowest hum back from the duvet and destruction.

The mattress dips, your body unmoving still as his fingers find the string of your bedside lamp. 

“I’m turning the light on—just need to see you.” 

He wishes he hadn’t. 

Black stains against usually manicured cheeks, tired, empty eyes staring into him—all forbidding as they wince and then land on him.

Javi knows shattered pieces typically cut skin, but his hand finds your exposed shoulder—coldness greeting him, sliding down the pads of his touch to his wrist and bones.

“Cariño.”

He says it differently, more a calling than questioning.

You blink, trying to erase your distress and pain—but it hangs all the same, like a banner, there all for him to see. 

“You came…”

His chest tightens, something falling from within as he releases a feeble breath. He knew, suspected it for a while, that you weren’t okay. Not pushing, not knowing if his words could be ones that could heal you. So he said nothing, let silence do its thing between the two of you, as his thumb brushed your cheek. Wiping across spilt grief and fresh tears.

“What…” 

You swallow it loud in the quiet—eyes furrowing before widening, as though hearing his words repeatedly.

He smiles, knuckles resting on your cheek, thumb stroking the edge of a smile he misses. 

“Talk to me, cariño. Please?”

More fall from your eyes, sliding down like rain droplets against dry cheeks and a sorrowful stare. If he could, he’d take it all from you. Urge the ball that clogs your throat to shrink—the one that lives inside you and has gotten matted with your soul. He’d do whatever you needed him to do. 

Your eyes fall from him, landing on a spot—darkness blooming over the colour as they unfocus. 

“I thought once you knew, it would feel easier. The same way I thought I’d be okay with seeing him back, Chris. Thought the distance would mean I didn’t hate him, but then I saw him and…” 

More fall in single file, orderly. 

Something tugging at the corner of his lips, because only you would have tears that fall in unison—that march down your cheeks and cut across your misery. 

“Did you know that I didn’t have a nickname before her? Luna—the moon. Said it was because I only came alive at night. The name was just for us—that name. Threatened to punch someone back in the States for using it.” 

Smirking, he watches as you blink. A river, cloudy with memory, scales down your face, tracing the outer edges of your nose and hanging expertly on your cupid bow. 

It catches—whatever comes next. 

Clings to the back of your teeth—rots on the tip of your tongue as he continues his ministrations on your cheek. Watching, studying—waiting for a cue, a mark. A sign. 

“…I don’t mind some, but there’s something about him using it that way.” 

You pause, the smallest of laughs slipping from your tight lips. “I wish you could have met her. She’d like you. You think I’m witty, but she was so much better at it. Barely needed to think. Always a retort—both in English and Spanish, always ready...”  

The last word hangs, syllables dancing until they run out of steam and are swallowed by silence. His knuckles pausing on your jaw, clearing his throat, finding your eyes flick up to him. 

They smother him in heaviness, so much so, it almost makes him crumble. The edges of him weakening, the knot in his chest that needs to make you smile constricting, wrapping further around his oesophagus— 

“She sounds wonderful,” he manages to say. 

Your face scrunching, a mix of agreement and anguish fighting in battle on who should show first—should prevail. 

“She was.” 

It wounds him to hold your stare, for the stinging edges of your grief to dig further into his spirit. Injecting more cause into his blood, more reason to keep fighting, pushing—hunting injustice until bars surround it.

When he blinks, he’s freed. Temporarily, but enough to think. To rest his palm under your chin, keep your eyes upon him.

“You think you can let me in, cariño?” 

His eyes flick down to the sheets, the duvet wrapped around you, trapped under limbs. 

It takes a second, one which spreads across space for far too long, but you nod. Shuffling awkwardly so a corner emerges—one he can lift and slide in. 

Your blouse is gone, but the rest of your work clothes still adorn your frame. Javi’s shirt rustles as he seeks to bring you comfort—to find a way to pull you close without forcing you to flee. 

“This okay?” 

It’s tinged with nerves—draping between you as he finds you still watching him. 

He'd have missed your nod if you were almost shoulder to shoulder. Only catching how the edges of white teeth bite down your bottom lip. Spotting the tremble before he sees the unmissable wobble as your eyes fill until they’re shimmering with a new wave that’ll crash down and coat them. 

“Cariño—“

“Lune.” 

He looks at you, takes it in. The look in your eyes, the way they burn unspoken emotions into him. 

“French, I know. She had to make an adjustment, claim it back before we left. She didn’t let anyone, not even Ch….him. But, I think she’d let you call it me,” you whisper, all hiccuped and difficult. 

Something unlodges inside of him, a thing which is determined to rid those two words. Because he suspects you’re thanking him because you don’t get this. Usually pushed, nudged to the edge until you devastate.

He kisses your hairline instead. Feeling you curl into him, head against his chest—and then he braces for the first shake, the eruption of shudders ripple from you to him. 

And he clings, clutching to root you here—to him, with him.  

“Javi…” 

His fingers continue sliding up and down, feeling soft skin as your breath flutters across his cheek. 

“Thank… thank you for coming over.” 

He smiles, spreading over his lips before he can hold it back, opening his eyes to face you. “I’ll always come, cariño.”

“Prometes?”

“Promesa, baby.”

Javi rarely dreams of the after. But he has begun to. 

You’ve stayed over at his place more often as of late. Easier, you’d tried to protest, and he never complained. 

The thoughts the dreams leave behind knock on him more frequently, especially when the darkness slides over the two of you, when you’ve gone quiet before soft shallow breaths fill the space in his room. It there, sitting on his tongue, wanting to ask:

What are you gonna do when it’s all over? 

A question which festers and burns—eroding a hole in his mouth and the back of his brain. It throbs more when he feels you curl against him, craving some form of touch before the two of you have to rise and pretend all over again. 

It’s why he likes it when you stay. When he can start the day with his palm on your cheek, lips slotted over yours. Pulling you flush against him as you whisper his name into the air—not tired of him, not even close. 

Because after it’s rushed, you need to do this or do that. The pretence needing to be kept up—him rushing to get in before you, more so now your friends are back. Fingers shakily doing his tie until you spot him in his kitchen, half-dressed, barely ready for the day, and your fingers smooth over his. Helping, shifting your hips against him as you loop his tie and knot it: the definition of a multitasker. 

Letting his eyes take you in, he lowers his hands to your hips. “You keep doing that, cariño, and we’ll undo your handiwork in a moment.” 

He likes the way you smile around him. 

How soft it is, the sharp edge you’d once purposefully wrapped it in, now gone. Faded. Vanished. 

“I could fuck you with your tie on, Peña.”

Javi knows that. Almost lets you prove it. Mouth opening to find words to say—

“You have a meeting, remember.” 

Gritting his teeth, jaw sliding to the side, he nods. 

Your fingers drop from the fabric as something sits in your eyes—a set of words that roll around that pretty head of yours he’s yet to decipher. 

“You think you’ll come here tonight?” 

Javi asks, hopeful. Not wanting to assume—not even with his spare on your keychain and most of your things in his bathroom. A smug look crosses your lips, making him leave ahead of you even harder. 

“I’ll be here. Prefer your water pressure than I do mine and the hands that come with it.”

He tortures himself by sitting in your lingering perfume on the commute. 

Fingers tapping on the wheel, thumb and index brushing in tight circles over and over as he parks his car, trying not to think of bubbles, water dripping down, you against the tiles. 

Like most mornings, he notes how dull the place is when you’re not around before he picks up the metaphorical weights he carries. The ones stuffed with expectations, getting it done—passing the board with the photos he can see when he blinks. 

Each minute until you arrive, the weight digs in. In the same way, it did before the night, he took you back—only being removed from his shoulders by your fingers and yours alone. 

It’s the relief you provide that makes him flick his eyes up as he hears someone arrive, casting a glance through the blinds—all on edge until he sees you. Until he knows you’re safe—something prickling, pecking at him that you’re not. 

It’s worsened since you told him everything. Since he saw you in the centre of your bed, all broken and at a loss. A part of him was angry with himself that he hadn't tried to take the weight from your shoulders, hadn’t noticed how close you had woven yourself, how unspooled you’d become. 

Worst of all, Javi wonders if there’s still a target on your back. Your face stuck up on some wall like the Godfathers are stuck on theirs, a thought easier to silence when you’re in sight. 

He knows it’s because he cares, feels things. It creeps into his chest, unwrapping, unfurling—spreading its vines until they loop around his muscles and bones. Making him feel so much it burns a hole in his tongue, in his heart—

“Morning,” you say, file in hand. 

His eyes lifting from the paper, watching you smile—body relaxing. 

Your words linger in the air, all innocent, airy as though you hadn’t said it to him already two hours ago. Fingers in his hair, nails scraping along his jaw as he rocked his hips into you, filling the air with breathy mornings and right there. 

He smirks, taking the file from you as you step into his office, beginning your usual morning rundown of his day, who has left messages, and what he hasn't done that needs handling. 

It’s not until you begin talking about having a meeting yourself, that he forces his head to look up from the file, does he take you in. Eyes dropping down your frame, not able to help himself, until—

“—so I have to go—“

“Is that my shirt?”

You pause, words dying on your tongue before you softly begin to smile. “How would I be wearing your shirt, sir?”

“Are you wearing my shirt, cariño?” 

Folding your arms, you shift your weight on the spot. His eyes scan behind you, spotting and noting that no one is within ear reach. Working out the probability of whether he has time to hook his finger in one of the belt loops of your trousers, pull you to him, shut the blinds and kiss you until your lips are swollen before duty calls. 

“If I were wearing your shirt, it would be because I ran out of time this morning to iron my shirt because someone needed assistance with their tie. So if this was yours, it’s merely being borrowed.” 

He swallows—something stirring inside of him. 

Because you’re wearing him, here. Out in the open, around their colleagues. He’d be able to look out of his window and see you dressed in him, marked in him. 

You’ve buttoned half of it, tucked it into the band of your trousers. His fingers want to trace the vest underneath the open buttons—take you in for a second, admire the way it’s styled so it looks less like him, and more like something new you’re trying with a pair of your trousers and heels. 

Your confidence falters; he watches it—how it wrinkles out over your face. “Wait…Javi, do you mind?” 

“Fuck no,” he says, more gruff. “Not one fucking bit. It’s just…”

“Just what?” 

He shifts his jaw, staring at you, tracing his eyes up and down your body—knowing how each curve feels, how your skin tastes. “I’m not going to be able to fucking concentrate.” 

“Wh… Javier Peña, do you like women wearing your clothes?”

“Not women. You.” 

You pull a face, smirking. “Well, that’s good to know.” His brow arches, watching something glimmer in your eyes. “Because you have quite an impressive shirt collection, and guess what I like?”

Tracing his bottom lip with his thumb, he tries to stop himself from tracing his eyes up and down you. Hearing people come in, the office slowly springs to life behind you. 

“What’s that, cariño?” 

You lean forward, allowing you to drop your voice. “Knowing to take it back, you’ll have to take it off of me—once I get to yours, tonight, that is,” you whisper, soft and breathy, a hint of silk to each of your words as they slide into his ears. “Have a good day, sir.” 

Failure was something he was being served more and more frequently.

This time, it was dealt to him when he’d allowed a part of himself to relax—to feel like they were close to a win—having gone from panicked to relieved when he felt Jurado’s wife against him.

Her all curled up, trembling. The scent of mud, sweat and something he assumed had once been perfume rotted into his nose as the jungle faded from view. 

It’s why he allowed her the comfort she so desperately needed, giving himself the chance to feel the joy that he had managed to fix the mess he’d caused by not thinking of every single option. 

Then, like grey clouds holding back her storm, there was a clap of thunder—Christina's eyes were then full of sorrow and fury, digging into him as though they were made of knives. Yet, it had been her words that did the slicing. 

It hadn’t meant a damn thing, not accounting for a single thing. All of it, from listening in on her and Jurado to now, a giant waste of fucking time. The phone call confirmed it.

He was dead. All that chasing, the jungle—

Javi had intended to cool down before he headed back to the office. It had all boiled inside of him, unable to think straight, that was until his eyes landed on you. 

Finding you at your usual spot, bent over, the low light making you squint. Your head lifts to glance at your screen before back down to the files on your desk, fingers rubbing at that spot on the side of your forehead—your tick, your tell. 

Then you lean back, hand brushing over your face before landing your eyes on him. At first, he watches you relax, relief flooding your expression—likely due to the fact that he’s safe. You'd been forthcoming with how much you'd been worrying.

Then, a smile. One that is quickly swallowed by concern. It amazes him how quick and astute you are—lifting yourself, grabbing something without taking your eyes off him as he approaches, nodding to Stoddard as you clear your throat. 

“Could—can I talk to you about a lead?” 

He nods, swallowing. He gestures for you to lead the way as he follows you into his office. It isn’t until the door closes, wrapping his arm across himself and playing with his other elbow, does he see you throw the file on the desk. 

“There’s no lead. I just… you looked like you needed to talk.” 

It's instant, the way he softens. Looking down, letting himself feel the calming wave you cast over him without knowing you even do it. 

The airport. The jungle. The call. 

He’s not even sure where to begin.

“She thinks I’m a piece of shit. That’s… that’s what she called me.”

Slowly, you move to the mini-table-turned-bar as you pour a glass—one for you, one for him.

“And maybe, I am…” You extend the glass, his hand taking it as he nods, running his thumb over the top. “I mean, I get tunnel vision—and I just have to….” 

He sighs, feeling you watching him, before it all comes out.

From the moment they reached the jungle to the airport. Your eyes not leaving him, likely seeing how easy it is for him to undo—how he’s coming apart, crumbling, pieces of him snapping off. The words keep coming and coming, the stress releasing a hold on his chest but doubling on his shoulders simultaneously.

It isn’t until he’s done, your silence, thick and loaded, does he even feel he needs to ask:  

“Y'agree with her?”

He has to ask, watching as you undo the thought. 

Studying your expression as he coats his tongue and lips in deep amber and misery. He used to drink to celebrate. Somewhere between Colombian takedowns and Escobar, it began as a way to stop himself thinking. Now, he’s unsure if it calms him, deafens things or just numbs him—or better, a concoction of the two. 

You lean against the wall, wrestling with your thoughts. He can see it—the thin line that appears between your brow and the way your fingers dance along the crystal glass. 

“I can… see why she’d think you were one.”

He takes a large sip, raising his brow. “Well... fuck, thanks.”

“You don’t—this doesn't work because I lie to you. We work because I’m great at feeding that self-deprecation you’re carrying around.” 

He smirks, snorting into the glass as he watches you take your first sip. Not hissing or scrunching—sipping it like it’s water. Suspiciously so.

He hears you step forward, closing the gap, placing your hand on his shoulder, nudging him to turn entirely towards you. “You’re a good person. The only time you’re a piece of shit is when you don’t do that thing with your tongue to me. She's hurt, Javi. Understandably, so.” 

He smiles, and you brush the sides of it with your thumb. 

Because he knows he’s experienced in non-committal fucking. Well-versed, almost excelling at it, until you. You who he wants the opinion of, the person who makes his world splinter and crack in the best way—more so when you dig your nails in, and he paints your walls in ropes of white. You are different. 

He's thought it since the beginning, when you barged in, all confident and smug. Now, it’s so much harder to ignore, to bury—to smother in other problems and issues. 

All of the realisation snapping inside of him, the walls he’s built coming down with ease, as your palm remains on his cheek—all intimate and full of care. 

“Starting to think you like me.”

“Get rid of that thought, sir. I merely tolerate you.”

“Liar.”

You blink, dropping your hand.

Holding your eyes steady, Javi lets the seconds add up, sliding into a minute. The air tightens with understanding as it rises like a slow tide threatening to pull you both under and drown you. Realisation twists and gnaws in your chest, not able to blink, not able to turn. 

He sighs, knowing it too. Releasing you, watching your head tilt before you roll your eyes, and then you’re moving to close the blinds—the office slowly fading from view before you approach the last turning so all he can see is you.

You who is looking at him with a mixed expression he hasn’t got the energy to decipher. Thoughts, suspicions, all rolling around his head, mixing horribly with the expression of Christina Jurado staring at him as he ended that call. 

“You do matter to me.” 

“Tell me you like me, baby,” he says, likely knowing that you're struggling for breath. 

Him doing the unspeakable—making a move, so off the board, he’s confirming neither of you is playing. Likely haven’t been for weeks. The signs were all there if you really looked, really focused on it. 

You smirk, shaking your head as you step back. “I like you, you know I do.” 

Hand slowly spinning the glass in your hand as you sink into the chair opposite his desk. Eyes staring into it, the amber sloshing from side to side. 

“I just…”

“Cariño…” your eyes look up, meeting him. “It’s different for me too.” 

You nod, biting the inside of your mouth as you rest your head on your palm—elbow digging into the arm of the chair. 

“What now?”

“What do you mean?” 

You scoff. “Well, do we stop?”

“Do you want to stop?”

“I want you to answer a goddamn question without asking another question. Because this is humiliating as it is.” 

“Having feelings for me that bad, huh?”

You smile, barely—but he notices it. “No. But, I—I’m not good at it—being with someone. Being in a relationship. I'll fuck up. I’m broken and…. without even fucking meaning to I'll—”

Sighing, he swallows. “Bonita… I don’t care.” His hand grips your cheek, tilting your eyes up to him. “I’m no good either. You deserve—fuck, you deserve far better than me, but I’m selfish, a piece of shit. So, I can’t let you go, so let's just call this what it is.” 

“You don’t know—“

“I do, cariño. I do.” 

Your eyes fill with tears, staring at him, unsure if you’re going to agree or push him away. That is, until your hand comes over his wrist, holding him—just like you usually do. 

Then, you turn him, so his frame hides you. Your lips press to his, kissing him as though you didn’t care. The two of you are now experts with both your tongues than words—able to articulate full-blown sentences with your mouths pressed against each other. 

Now, you're in his arms after all the sheer determination—after doing nothing but fighting him. The low light from the lamp casts a soft glow over you both, offering comfort, hiding how everything else around the two of you is burning. 

“I hate how good your cock is.”

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. “Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem.”

Strumming his fingers up and down your side, he smiles against the top of your hair. Letting the moment settle, the confessions being filed in a happy place in his mind. 

“Are you okay?”

“Now?” he asks, fingers toying with your hip. “I’m better.” 

For a moment, he just watches—takes you in. 

It goes back to the night in the bar when half of your face had been shrouded in mystery, and the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot. If Murphy were here, he’d say it was typical Peña—somehow managing to fuck the woman who hates him. 

But then, you’d never really hated him, just like he hadn’t really ever found you difficult. 

“Let's sit,” you say, joining him on the sofa, the leather creaking under you. 

The silence is an odd comfort—so used to cracking under quiet, yet with you, he settles. 

No one to disturb it, the peace. No one was ringing or asking for him. 

Even the office outside has gone quiet. 

That one thought, which has been hammering and hammering, rises—bubbling at the top of the sea of shit he has to undo, answer for and deal with. 

“If you weren’t doing this, what would you be doing?”

It’s likely too deep for such a day. Knowing he should take the win that the two of you have agreed to be something more concrete than convenient fucking, but it falls from his tongue quicker than he can say I’m okay or let’s go. 

You think, eyes sliding to the corner as an array of expressions flash across your face. A frown to a relaxed smile, a shift of your lips to a soft sigh. 

“Not sure. Maybe run a coffee shop? A cafe. Want it to be a local place, lots of gossip.”

Watching you lick your lips, he lets himself take you in. A mental photo snapped, locked away in the vault he’s drafted just for you. 

“One of those places where either the coffee is good, but the cakes are bad, or the cakes are good, but the coffee is bad. Because I’m one person, y’know? I’m not fucking superwoman.” 

His fingers tease the edges of yours—wanting to keep you here, in this moment. Not step back out into the sound of phone calls and typing.  

“There would be this will-they-won’t-they with a local guy. He’d come in, and everyone would study our interactions and gossip about how long he stood at the counter.”

Smirking, you turn your head, confronting him with a wicked smile—a sight that makes his heart beat. 

“What about you?” 

Shrugging, he laces his fingers in yours. “Probably be on the ranch. With my dad. Helping. Do the good son thing, for a bit at least.” 

“Well, you can only do the good son thing if you’re good.”

Nudging you with his knee, he shakes his head. “Hey. I’m a fine, good rancher.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He sneers. “Come see it, baby. I’ll show you all my moves.” 

You smile, and like this—after today—it’s something more stunning than he can find the words for. Not sure he’d ever be able to describe it, what it does to him—how it feels like an arrow has been shot into his chest, inflating his heart, making it grow twice as big. 

Licking his lips, he smiles wider—almost allowing it to spread to his eyes. “You open your cafe in my town. We’d be the talk of it.” 

“Because you already tried the buns.” 

“First thing I’d talk up.”

You laugh. Sweet and weightless. It flushes through him, easing the stress from his muscles. Basking in it, the momentary pause on the job, the mission—the reason. 

“I’d make sure a Catrina or a Mary would have overheard me telling people you’re good with a whip. Let them gossip.” 

“Oh, there’s actually three Marys, and I’m sure there’s at least two Catrinas.” 

Shrugging, you wink. “See, I’m fitting in already.” 

“Texas would love you.” 

“Texas would be quaking in its cowboy boots.”

“That too.” 

The two of you go silent.

All comfortable and nice. No thoughts rushing through him, no darkness ebbing in the corners—it’s like it is in the mornings. Where he can pretend the world outside isn’t Colombia but Texas. That his responsibilities are to make you smile and make sure a cow doesn’t crush his pop. 

You tap your fingers over his. “You okay?” 

“I don’t even fucking know.” 

“It’s okay if you’re not.” 

Turning his head, he meets your eyes, a little smile so effortlessly falling over your face. “I know.”

He moves, shifting so he’s closer, and you subconsciously move closer, letting your head find his shoulder as you take a deeper breath. 

“We could. I could.” 

You slowly look up at him, watching him stare off before glancing down. 

“It's not a lot, but you could make lemonade, and I could help my Pops do ranch shit. Live out our days in the field and between one another’s thighs.” 

“You’d get bored…”

“Of you?” he asks, shaking his head. “Never. I’m never tired of you, not even when you’re frustrating and annoying.” 

“You crave danger, Peña.”

He moves you closer, wrapping his arm around you to pin you close, dropping his mouth to your ear. “Guess we’ll have to begin fucking outdoors, see how far we go until we’re arrested for public indecency.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” 

His hand slides up your forearm, spreading warmth back through you. 

“Think about it, cariño. Yeah?” 

You swallow, nodding. “Would you wear a cowboy hat?”

He laughs, rich, light. “For you? Yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll think about it, sir.” 

It’s you who interlocks your fingers with his, squeezing—like a version of a signature on a contract. 

“I didn’t ask. How’s your day been?” 

You snort, not moving—not even to look up or find his eyes, thumb sliding over his hand. “Why?”

“You always hiss when you first have a sip of whiskey. You didn’t earlier.” 

Then you move—eyes finding his, something in them he can’t read—a look he can’t place. Your own moving from one eye to the other as you swallow. 

“I may have helped myself to a glass… or two.” 

Placing his fingers under your chin, he lifts your face. “Talk to me.” 

“Just a bad day, that’s all.” 

“Cariño.” 

Rolling your lips, you sigh. “Can we just go home?” 

Nodding, he drops his hand from his nose, taking the glance balancing precariously on his knee as he drains it. It’s only when he feels the loss of you, hearing you mumble about getting your coat—and your bag, that you need to nip to a store on the way—does it come back to him. 

Home. 

You’d said home. 

Not his place. Not your place. 

His teeth bite down on the inside of his cheek, the softest twitch of his lips. One, that on another day, where it hadn’t felt like a complete fuck up, he suspects would be a smile, a real one. 

Fingers tap on your desk—hands you used to know, once upon a time. Lifting your chin, you stare at him. Chris. 

His face was all a mixture of annoyance and pleading, a sight you suspected didn’t mean good things for you. 

“You thought about it? Helping me.”

Your fingers pause on the keys. “If it involves me leaving this building, there best be a good reason you’ve even brought this to me. The shit I could get into—”

“I wouldn’t ask.”

You tilt your head. “Yes, you would.” 

“It’s for Van Ness, too.” 

Narrowing your eyes, you slowly stand. “We need a meeting room or a quiet space. I need—I need what you have. Photo, information.”

Chris nods, furiously so. “So, you in?”

Your head turns, glancing at the empty office—the one you’ve been staring at the entire time he’s been out of it. “I’m in for the debrief. That’s all I’m committing to for now.” 

AN: hope it was worth it!

[ghouljams]

im not super caught up on ur cowboy au (i LOVE goose n ghost, the dynamic of simon being with price's kid who ACTS like she's prices kid tickles my brain so well) and i dont want to come across as rude... but why is bee with konig lmao. ive been reading the recent discourse and if she's a DA survivor, what draws her to him? what could he possibly do to make her forgive and move on from him being such a piece of shit to goose and making such an ass of himself? like, if he calls a woman a whore and a dog because he was butthurt about getting his ass kicked by someone he doesnt respect just bc she's a woman and small, then why would bee think highly of him or even feel SAFE around him? i really don't mean to be rude about this lmao i just wanna pick your brain

as an abuse victim, even after YEARS of 'calm' and 'changes of ways', i would never be able to completely get rid of the lingering fear after seeing something like that. i can't imagine bee wasn't scared of konig in that moment

and as someone from a small town, making an ass of yourself like that will never be forgiven nor forgotten lol. konig will forever be remembered as the lumbering instigator that fucked around and found out, and if bee stayed with him, that reputation would get stuck to her too

again, i dont know bee's character super well (and i support womens rights and wrongs; she can be flawed and choose to look past things other people won't ignore to stay with someone she cares about) but i just wanna know your author thoughts lol these are your boobahs and i like to hear the thoughts. ill have time later today to read through your posts more too, i havent dug into bee's mostly bc i don't care for konig, but if they're all getting interlinked like this id like more context. just a heads up i might come back later and be like "AND ANOTHER THING-" or whatever lol

thank u hugs kisses i like ur cowboy stories :) <3

GREAT QUESTIONS

So I will say that in the overall context of the cowboy au I will be slotting Goose fighting König into the realm of "very dubiously canon" because you're right, there's no way Bee would trust him again after this.

I'm going to attempt to answer all your questions, but please bear with me because I can get long winded.

So to start off I will say that while Bee's backstory has been hinted at, it's never been officially written down. In my mind, the abuse she suffered at the hands of her (now dead) ex husband was mostly mental and emotional, I think if there was physical abuse that was her last straw that she had to get out.

Bee's relationship with König is interesting because I think in her mind, he is a sort of savior figure. He's always been there when she needed him, he never pressured her into anything, he was always kind and respectful, etc. König is big and scary, but he truly has always treated Bee incredibly well, and despite his *ahem* unorthodox methods has always had her best interest at heart. Bee is also VERY recently divorced, and he took EVERYTHING. König has been her rock since she moved to town and she's sort of imprinted on him to a certain extent.

For König... I have talked before about how I think he views women, but I will condense it into how I think he views Goose specifically before/after/during their fight. König has only met Goose once before in written canon and she pulled a gun on him immediately. It's not that Goose is a woman, it's that she is associated with Ghost. That is what I would consider the bottom line in König's thinking. If Goose was just some random woman in town he wouldn't care but she specifically occupies the space of "enemy combatant" because she's with Ghost.

I will say also König already has a reputation as a weird freak in town. People don't really care for him, but now he's also the guy that Goose beat up. So... not great for him. Bee on the other hand is fairly well liked. She's sort of clueless but she's well meaning and generally willing to learn or correct her mistakes. Like I said this fight fic is pretty dubiously canon I don't think it will actually effect the story the way it would irl, but those are Bee/König's standings in town.

As for whether Bee would take König back after watching him go after someone Bee sees as smaller and weaker than him(though König sees Goose as just another enemy to be taken down, women or not)... I don't know. That's why I say this fic is really dubiously canon, because you're right I don't see her taking him back after this. I think this would be the end of it, and I really love the love story I've crafted for the two of them. So it's a big old shrug from me boss. IDK

I think a genuine apology from König to Goose would help a lot. I think König sitting down and explaining his past to Bee would also help. If there was some added context, that it's a long standing beef between himself and Ghost and he made a bad judgement call, then that would be good for getting on the road to healing. Bee would also have to sit down and explain her feelings to König, all in all it would have to be a complete open communication between them, likely with a therapist moderating. But I don't want to write that because I genuinely don't think I would be able to do it justice.

Bee's story is one of my favorites, it's her fairy tale ending, it's her rebuilding her life and finding love despite her trepidation. It's a story of self healing and love, and I don't want to sabotage it with a fight.

[smashingdollz]

hihi<3 could I request callie and raihan x

Streamer s/o? s/o wants to be the best streamer ever and really likes wearing cute stuff for their streams :3?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

hi hi anon! i dont write for Callie but i can give it a try! also i love this prompt so much oh my gosh- thank you for the request! have a nice day anon! <3

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞

-Callie tends to use her status as a pop star and former Inkopolis air host as a way to promote your streams! whenever shes in an interview and they ask her what she likes to do in her free time she replies with, "I enjoy watching my partner, Y/Ns streams! theyre really entertaining and fun!" in general she always finds a way to mention your stream.

-and because of Callie youve grown a lot as a streamer, you used to go live for about 50 people a day. which you didnt mind because the community was wonderful. but now thanks to her, youre averaging way more! thanks to her youre community has grown a lot! so many nice people who are fans of Callie join your lives and say so many nice things! youve grown quite a big online family.

-and Callie makes sure to call out the people who say negative things in your lives and reassures that youre the best. she lurks in chat while you steam and whenever she sees a mean comment flow by she calls them out for it. she says, "If youre mean to Y/N, then youre no fan of mine"

-since you enjoy wearing cute stuff in your streams Callie loves to choose out cute outfits for you to wear! and if its a lazy stream were youre just chatting shell pick out a cute cozy onesie for you! she might even make you a cute outfit herself or have one of her designers to make one for you, as a somewhat signature outfit for your streams.

-sometimes Callie will even join you while your streaming, and when she does shell match whatever cute outfit your wearing that stream. this leads you guys into doing a fashion show for youre viewers. youll go find cute outfits and ask chat for their opinions.

-(the two of you would play those cute little dress up/fashion games. and definitely those "Papa's Freezaria/Pizzaria/etc" games)

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐧

-much like Callie, he also uses his reputation to promote your streams! whenever hes in interviews hell do the same thing as Callie and find a way to mention your streams! he'll even post about you from time to time.

-he'll buy you cute clothing and cute pokemon onesies for you to wear on stream! he'll have you pose with him and take a picture of and post it online with the caption of; "My partner is live right now! go check them out!" and you automatically get a lot of nice people and comments on your streams!

-he'll happily play games with you on stream. but it will take a lot of convincing for him to put on a Pokemon onesie and sit down with you as you chat with the viewers, he of course gives in because he cant say no to you forever. soon he fully embraces it and takes a photo of the two of you in matching Pokemon onesie and posts it. and sometimes the two of you dress up your own Pokemon in cute things and have them join in on the stream! the viewers really enjoy that.

-he defiantly supports your goal of being one of the best streamers. hes always there to take care of you when youre in need while streamin, need water? hes on it. youre humgry? he makes you a 5 course meal so you could enjoy, he doesnt mind you watibg or drinking on stream but sometimes he makes you take a break so you could actually enjoy yourself and not strain yourself. he makes sure streaming doesnt stress you out and that its something that you should enjoy and not feel like a chore.

-as i said before, he loves to play games with you while streaming. thet two of you would be playing a horror game and people would expect you to be the one screaming and holding onto Raihan, but its actually the opposite. hes screaming at the horrific visuals holding onto you as you concentrate(youre carrying the whole game, he died and just let you go on without him), trying to beat the game so you guys could play a happy two player game.

-(i also feel like he would be absolutely terrified of those Roblox horror games 💀)

i hope you enjoyed this! i had so much fun writing this! (oh also i didnt realize you didnt specify if you wanted a story, headcannons, etc. so i did headcannons by default. next time please specify if you want something specific! /not mad)

[isa-loves-you]

How you meet and realizing you like them | The group chat.

PART 2

-Tanner-

You were a semi-big youtuber and twitch streamer; you mostly got popular from you and your friends playing dumb games and making eachother laugh, and it seemed to make other people laugh too because now you're making money from it. You weren't doing anything really, just scrolling through your social media to see what was going on in the world, then you saw that you had a new friend request on discord. 

Isaacwhy: Hi im isaac. I don't know if you know who i am but me and my friends do youtube and i have an upcoming project that includes me putting my friend Tanner also known as BigT through my version of the bachelor. The reason I am messaging you is because my friend Tanner has a big crush on you and we want to surprise him with you for the last round. If you don't want to participate with my idea that is totally okay, please message me back if you have any questions.

You sat there and thought about it for a second; It sounded like so much fun and you could make someone happy and also gain some new views yourself from it. You messaged Isaac back to tell him that you would do it, you guys spent a couple minutes chatting explaining what would be going on and when they would introduce you. Basically they would put you in a secret discord with the other contestants and once tanner is down to the last to the last rose he will choose the winner. Once he chooses then isaac will pretend that the game is over and that tanner and the winner will get a date, but then he will tell tanner that he could choose the winner or you then you will get five minutes to convince tanner to choose you for the final rose. Seems pretty easy you thought, and it sounds really fun you couldn't wait to shoot the video.

After waiting a week it was finally time to record the vid.isaac had gathered all the contestants into a chat with him and tanner and you got to sit in a secret one with isaac so when it got down to the last person he would message you to join. An hour went by until Isaac told you that Tanner was picking the winner. “Yayy congratulations emmi you have been gifted the last rose on the discord bachelor, how do you feel tanner?” “it feels so good isaac now i don't have to cry myself to sleep because i'm so alone “ everyone laughed and pretend to cheer tanner on but thats when isaac dropped the bomb on him “ wait what's this we have a secret contestant that i may or may not have placed last on purpose”. Everyone got quiet to listen to what Isaac was going to say next “ladies and gentlemen, let's introduce our secret contestant Y/N!!!” “hey everybody im super excited to see yall” no one spoke at all, they were in shock that isaac got you to come. “OH MY GOD AHHH'' tanner screamed like a teenage girl meeting taylor swift “ok ok ok tanner calm down i know i'm the best, but since we now have a new player we still have to play by the rules” “ nuh uh i know who i choose, i give you y/n this rose as a symbol of my love”. Tanner stuck out his hand at his camera with a funny seductive look on his face. You and others bursted out laughing, man you don't know who this guy was but he sure could make your stomach hurt from laughing and it was a bonus that he was super cute. “No tanner dont forget about emmi over here. Since you already got 5 minutes with emmi alone, i am giving you 5 minutes wut y/n then you will decide who you will actually pick”. Oh god you're actually getting nervous, your hands got all sweaty and you stutterd like an idiot when isaac asked if you were ready, isaac moved you and tanner, and himself into another chat and tanner changed his background to look like a fancy restaurant. “So tanner, isaac told me that you have a big crush on me. Is that true?” Tanner just looked at you with eyes wide and mouth open like when Roger Rabbit sees Jessica rabbit. You couldn't laugh at his goofiness , you have to admit that you were actually having a good time.

Five minutes passed and it was nothing but talking and laughing at tanner being silly “Okay boys and girls now it's actually time for tanner to pick the winner” isaac interrupted. “Hmmm it's a tough pick isaac. Emmi i did have an awesome time with you and you were my first choice, but I'm sorry y/n is my choice. I WILL ALWAYS CHOOSE THEM NO MATTER WHAT GIRL COMES UP TO ME!”. Everyone laughed as tanner acted like a wwe wrestler at smackdown, but you were just staring at this man that chose you over 10 other people you couldn't help but sorta fall for.

-Yumi-

You’ve been really go friends with isaac since highschool and you guy stayed to be really good friends out of highschool. Isaac had always talked about being a youtuber and you always supported the idea and even offering your help with the editing; which was also helping you since you really liked working you on your own time, working with a good friend of yours, and also make pretty good money from your passion. Not only did you work with isaac with his editing but you also did the editing for the group chat podcast; even though you did all the time consuming work for them they had no idea who you were since you didn't live in austin and only complicated through isaac. You were editing on a Friday night so Isaac could upload the video the next day. You were almost done. All you had to do was look over the footage to make sure everything was good but you kept on getting distracted by yumi. You have never met Yumi but you see him everyday and you get used to his face, sometimes it makes your day better. He always had something witty to say or had a good joke to tell, and you sorta started to have a crush on him. Isaac knew about your little crush even though you never said anything he could just tell whenever you asked how they all were and you always asked about yumi first. You were done and just sent the file to isaac when he texted you.

Mr.Famous: Thank you!

y/n: no problem. Just text me when you have something for me

Mr.Famous: I actually do. How about you come to Austin and come on the podcast?

You couldn't believe it. Going to Austin and maybe seeing Yumi for the first time, and also seeing your friend that you haven't seen in a long time.

Two days passed since you talked to isaac about coming to austin and now you just got your suitcase from baggage claim and stepped into your uber. Isaac said that he was setting things up for you at the house so he couldn't come and get you from the airport, some friend he is.

At the group chat mansion:

“Tanner don't spill that cereal on the couch they are almost here” “Whos almost here” tanner said with milk dripping out of his mouth “y/n” “whos dat?'' Larry chimed in as he and the others walked in behind him “Are you guys serious i told you two days ago. Y/n my very good friend since highschool that edits my videos and the podcast”. Everyone all passed a look pretending like they knew what their friend was talking about “ you know what i'm not going to say anything-” isaac was cut off mid sentence by the door bell ringing. 

You heard isaac shouting from the other side of the front door so you decided to help out whoever was getting their ass chewed out by isaac and ring the doorbell. The yelling stopped and you waited a second before Isaac opened the door with arms wide open and a smile. You and Isaac hugged for a good second since this was the first time you've seen him in almost 2 years since he moved from pennsylvania. You guys finished your hug and grabbed your bags to come in, you were a nervous wreck due to it being the first time meeting the others. You stood in the living room looking at the 4 in front of you “ hey everyone, it's finally good to see your guyses faces' ' you went up to hug them all. Larry took the hug with a big smile on his face, tanner put on his seductive face like he always do and gave you a hug like a like a rich person would, nick gave you a hug then i medentalty put the camera in your face and asked you to say hi to their fans. Now it was time to hug yumi, now yumi did not like physical affection and everyone in the house knew that besides you. Everyone watched and waited for you to make your way to yumi, but you could tell that yumi was uncomfortable with the whole hug thing so you just dabbed him up;which surprised him but he was okay with it.

You spent the rest of the day with the boys but it wasn't long since you didn't show up to the house until 6. Isaac had to go get the mail from the Po. Box before the mail office closed (wait a great friend honestly!) Larry and Nick went with him and Tanner had decided to stream. It was now going on 11 and you were getting tired so you texted isaac where you were supposed to sleep.

Y/n:Hey i tried to stay up but im really jet lagged, where am i sleeping?

 Mr.Famous: Sorry I won't be back for another 30 mins. Ask yumi to show you the guest room.

OH great, now you have to disturb someone because you finally get out of the house since you work from home, and the person you do have to bother is your crush. That's soooo awesome. You hyped yourself up before you stepped into the kitchen where yumi was eating something “hey i don't mean to bother you but could you show me where the guest room is because isaac won't be back for a while” “yeah no problem”. Yumi put his food down and walked before you did so he could show you, he was about to walk up the stairs until he looked back at you to see you struggling to put the handle on your bag down so you could carry it. Before you could react to what was happening Yumi grabbed the handle and pushed it down so he could grab and carry your bag up the stairs for you. “Oh you don't have to do that i would have gotten it but thank you” yumi didn't say anything until you guys got to the top of the stair “it's no big deal just being a help” he continued walking until he got to an open door. You looked into the room to see a bed, a closet, a desk that had a pc with a bunch of different electronic stuff around it, and next to the bed was a pile of plushies that you've always seen in the back of videos. “Sorry Isaac made us put some stuff in here since we don't use this room, but all the stuff on the desk works if you need to use them” Yumi said as he walked past you to put your bag on the bed. “Oh no it's okay i don't mind” you smiled towards him to assure you that everything was okay by you “well goodnight then” yumi said as he just stood in the doorway staring at you “yeah you too have a goodnight”. You guys just stood and looked at each other for a second until the unthinkable happened; yumi reached down and awkwardly hugged you “sorry i just feel bad for earlier”. You just watched him walk to his room with a dumb smile on your face, you couldn't believe it. Thee Yumi, the man you have a little crush on, gave you a hug. Man life is great, you thought to yourself while you drifted off to sleep.

[dannythedanman]

The Blood-Red Egg

Fandom: Wings of Fire

Word Count: 1,052

Characters: Burn, Smolder, Original Female Character

Relationships: Burn & Smolder, Burn & Original Female Character

Summary: The blood-red egg that is mentioned in burns weirdling tower hatches the night she gets it

CWs: none

A/N: This fic/au is inspired by dragonsheep's agttdw video where she mentioned the idea and I feel in love with it!

Burn whipped a cheap terracotta vase at the wall of the SandWing Stronghold, screaming

"THIS PROPHECY IS NONSENSE! I WON'T LET SOME 9 YEAR OLDS TELL ME HOW OR WHEN I DIE!" She hissed, her tail rattling.

It had just come out that Morrowseer of the NightWings had had a prophecy stating that in 12 years, 5 eggs would hatch on the brightest night, choose a queen to win, and end the war.

Of course, Burn was enraged by this news (like she was by everything else). She knew she was the strongest of her sisters and that she would be the best queen once she picked them off, but now some random dragonets would have the power to decide who won!?

She picked a stray rock of the floor and chucked it out of the nearest window with a grunt. She huffed, watching the rock tumble to the desert floor, unsatisfied with the lame impact it made with the floor.

She whipped around and pointed at the soldier in the entrance of the room.

"You! In 12 years, I want EVERY blood-red egg you can find, DO YOU HEAR ME!?" She screamed, stalking closer to the frightened gaurd.

"Y-y-yes ma'am!" He stammered.

Pathetic.

-●-

12 years later

Burn sat in front of her fish tank in her weirdling tower. The brightest night was near, and she had sent a group of soldiers to go steal the blood-red egg of the prophecy.

It had been a few hours since they had left, and Burn was starting to get impatient. She preoccupied herself by admiring all her other unusual things and fantasizing about how the egg would look when mounted on her makeshift nest.

Suddenly, her gaurds burst into the tower with Smolder in toe. Burn sat up and faced their direction.

"You got the egg?" She asked.

"Yes, my queen. It was near the outskirts of the village, so it was easy to steal." The gaurd who was clutching the egg held it out to her.

Burn cupped the egg in her claws and stared it with bewildered eyes. They weren't kidding when they described the egg as "blood-red." It looked like someone had taken a paintbrush and painted the egg with blood.

"It also seems that MudWings don't gaurd their nests, so that was a plus!" Another one of her gaurds chimed in, disrupting Burn's train of thought.

"How peculiar." She noted, "It's perfect."

The princess strode over to the nest on the platform she had chosen to display the egg and placed it down. She backed away to take a look, and it almost brought tears to her eyes.

"It's perfect!" She yelled excitedly for the second time.

Just then, a crack! echoed across the vast room. Everyone looked around to see what had caused the noise, but it was Burn who had figured out first that the egg was hatching.

This had made the night better than anything Burn could've thought of. She thought about what weird specimen would crawl of the egg. Would it have three eyes? Two tails? Zero wings? The possibilities excited her.

She raced over to the egg and watched it intensly as more and more cracks formed on the red shell over time.

It was customary in most tribes to let the egg hatch by itself, but Burn did peel back a fair bit of the shell.

After what seemed like hours to everyone involved, a tiny MudWing hatchling hobbled out of the shell.

Burn stared at the babbling baby. It looked...normal. It was the regular deep brown color of the MudWings with a slightly lighter set of wings and underbelly and piercing orange eyes.

It was like every other MudWing she had ever seen, and she was mad about it.

"What is this!? WHY would a MudWing hatched from such a STRANGE egg be normal!? I DONT UNDERSTAND!" She shoved her gaurds out of the way and punched the wall.

As she stared at the newly dented wall, she heard the ear-shattering sound of crying. She looked behind her and, lo and behold, that unfortunately-not-defective MudWing was crying.

"Burn, get over here and calm down your 'perfect thing!'" Smolder teased.

Burn whipped her head around at her brother.

"I REFUSE to acknowledge that THING any longer! Take it back to the MudWing kingdom WHERE IT BELONGS WITH ALL OF ITS NORMAL MUDWINGS!" She yelled.

"W-we can't just take it back to the village! Queen Moorhen will know that we stole it and break off her alliance with you!" One of her useless guards said.

"And what if it grows up to be something super weird, and it just hasn't developed it yet as a hatchling!" Another one of her brainless gaurds chimed in.

"Also, 'it' is now a she." Smolder interjected.

Despite how stupid all the dragons in this room were, they did bring up some valid points (all except Smolder, Burn could've figured that out herself).

She strolled over to the STILL WAILING hatchling, picked her up, and laid her over her shoulder.

"Shh, shhhhh, yeah, yeah, just shut up already." Burn tried her best to sound compassionate as she slightly bounced her shoulder up and down to calm the newborn.

The MudWings cries turned to whimpers, then to silence as Burn continued to bounce her.

Burn felt an emotion she hadn't felt in a long time. She couldn't exactly explain it, but her thoughts were something along the lines of "Wow, I just made this tiny thing so happy."

It was probably just pride at how good she was at making dragons bend to her will. It was definitely that.

"Hey, not to interrupt the moment you two are having, but what are you gonna name her?" Smolder asked.

"Uh, I dont know." Burn turned her head to face the gaurds, "You guys! Make up a MudWing name for her!"

The gaurds scrambled to put together a decent name for the hatchling. Shouts of suggestions were laid over one another, but none of them caught Burns attention.

"Terracotta?" A light yellow SandWing gaurd suggested haphazardly.

"TERRACOTTA!" Burn repeated louder, "we should call her Terracotta!"

And just like that, the most important thing in Burn's life had a name. And it was Terracotta.

[sugar-omi]

Incoming ramble I wanna hear you’re thoughts on this cause it’s been on my brain for a little bit and it’s got me in my feels

K so I forget if it’s in the step 3 prologue or in the Drive moment but either way when on the topic of Cove leaving for Nevada every now and again and choosing how your MC feels about it there’s the option to choose that it makes you sad and nervous specifically because the little 8 year old in you (who remember was probably HORRENDOUSLY lonely) was scared that Cove was gonna leave and never come back

Now that option alone already gets to me (cause I relate to it hard cough cough) but just imagine the MC actually confessing to Cove about that fear!! Obviously the MC doesn’t want to make Cove stop going cause yknow he’s literally going to see his own mom but MC also can’t deny that there’s that sad lonely little kid inside their head who just doesn’t want to be left alone again so they’re kinda just stuck in the dilemma. But soon enough after feeling well enough to admit it they finally tell Cove about it and get to actually work it out!!!

It just- AUGH ITS GOT ME EMOTIONAL MAN I CANT-

cove would actually feel so relieved omg bc it makes him sad too and he misses you, ofc ik he says that no matter what but I think he also worries abt leaving n nevering coming back

very traumatized from the move after his mom n dad divorced n he tried to run away bc he missed krya, yk 😟

reassures you that he'll always come back, and that if that did happen he'd prbly try to run away to see you LOL

would offer to take you with him!!! if you're dating ofc you need to work it out w his mom a bit more than necessary but she wouldn't mind if you stayed over or came to hang out w them

I imagine krya spends a Lotta time at work anyway since she can't be on leave the entire time he visits, so she'd be relieved that he has someone to keep him conpany

he talks abt you so much anyway, it's like you're basically there w them already

if you can't or don't want to go with him, he'd video call you sm more

sends lots of pictures n texts and voice messages

tells you basically everything abt his day and sends gm and gn texts

NO VOICE MESSAGES

omg...

coves sleepy, raspy voice saying "good morning" (

sounds like this, would even call you sunshine like sonny did!!!😭😭

I'm falling apart

mmm if he's gone a long time he'd prbly even come see you, or meet you half way

which is stressful bc he has a long drive but he would bc he's crazy abt you

omg gives you a shirt of his.

BUYS MATCHING SHIRTS

omg and asks you what you're wearing every day until you say that shirt n he wears it like "omg!!! what a coincidence!!!!" babe we know u did it on purpose PLEASE

sends you flowers

n by send you flowers I mean asks his dad to pick up some flowers and deliver them to you

sends his dad money too but cliff would prbly pay for them once or twice bc he thinks this is so chge n send the money back to cove so cove is like "dad!!!" n just makes an order on his card bc his dad is so stubborn😭😭

cliff is actually in love w your guys relationship he's so happy,,, pls

I should write some hc's on how cliff feels abt you guys dating bc my man's is so happy!!!! pls. OK anyway

OMG YOU VIDEO CALL N EAT TOGETHER

will ask what you're eating n have the same thing if he can

OMG HE PICKS UP ONE TIME AND HE'S RUNNING ACROSS THE STREET N HES LIKE "WAIT DONT EAT YET I GOTTA PICK UP THE FOOD"

n you can just see his chin, the sky and then it's like kinda black n then for some reason u can see the floor and then he's like "sorry" and he starts running back to his car AGAIN

and so he delicately places the phone down n is panting n just goes, "sorry. I'm ready now" *throws his head back* "omg gimme a minute... man. climbing thru your window really came in handy"

KISSES THE SCREEN

big "mmmmwaahhh!!!"

or tiny "mweh", no in between

falling asleep on the phone too

WOULD TUCK THE PHONE IN.. OMG STOP IT

he's totally normal abt you I swear

[cursedvibes]

you!!! you get it!! yuki's entire existence feels like such a slap to the face for the spvs. shes the only one that escaped n has a ct but she still ended up fighting n dying for tengens sake, despite building up herself from the ground (i dont think the higher ups wouldve rly empathized with her situation, most definitely made it wayy more difficult to deal with, if geto n gojo had such a hard time she prolly got much worse 💀). i wonder what it wouldve been like to hear all the spv xP but alas we can only hope gege remembers this bit....yeah honestly i wish we got more drama out of their interactions n a bit of yukis own childhood instead of choso crying abt his brothers for the nth time 😭 pls tell me more abt the thoughts u have abt those two its always nice to read see ur thoughts (me who has read every single kenjin fic on your ao3 😁😁😁) the tengen situation rly showed who all read the manga n who all just saw the pictures n came up with their on hc for the situation 💀

Thank you for reading my fics <3 it means a lot to me

Well, we don't know if she's the only SPV with a CT, but I'm sure it's why she was able to escape. Riko doesn't seem to have one and that might be one of the reasons why Tengen saw her as an ideal candidate. We don't know about the other two that got merged, but it would make sense for Tengen to choose the ones that would have less means of defending themselves. The Heian one might've had one because that was probably still more of an experimental phase and she might have had less options, unlike now where there are multiple popping up in one generation and she picks the ones with characteristics she likes most and who probably also have a closer match.

So Tengen most likely knew Yuki's CT, but didn't tell the higher-ups, since Kenjaku got their help, but couldn't find it out. They basically promoted her to special grade based on mission results and I assume a good word from Tengen. That might've also helped her break through the glass ceiling of misogyny. As we see with Maki, it really doesn't matter how skilled you are, you can only advance as far as they let you and if you're a woman or they don't like you for some other reason, you're not getting anywhere. But she had her results to show off and what Tengen says goes, so they couldn't protest. It's impressive that she managed to keep her CT and status as former SPV a secret for so long, although the foreign missions definitely helped there.

I'd also like to have a bit more background on Yuki. Did she have the same religious upbringing as Riko? She was likely groomed into a sacrificial mindset too, so what made her be able to resist that? Did Tengen wait too long and teenage hormones ruined it for her? Just natural instincts? She is very rebellious in general after all. How did her first meeting with Tengen go down? So many questions that will likely never get answered. But that also means there is no limit for how we can imagine it all happening.

It's a real shame that Tengen and her intentions and past never really got questioned by anybody besides Kenjaku. Yuki has her complaints, but she ultimately doesn't do anything about them. Gojo suggested at one point to kill Tengen if she wants to force the merger with Riko, but apparently completely forgot about that once Toji came into the picture. He was so close to the root of the problem, but then didn't act on it. Riko would've died anyway, even if Toji wasn't around, just in a different way. And even if they managed to rescue Riko, it would've been some other kid that got sacrificed in her stead.

Mind you, I don't think Gojo could ultimately do anything against Tengen, certainly not at 16. He wouldn't even be able to touch her and she knows the capabilities of six eyes users better than everyone else. But I feel like an effort should have been made. The issue should be addressed. There could've been a lot of interesting stuff between Tengen and him too. After all, she also created him to make him protect her, so if he went against that, that would be a nice source of conflict. But I don't think he knows about his purpose and will likely never find out about it.

Either way, I would've liked more skepticism of Tengen in general. Kenjaku brings up right to Yuki's face that there is something very important about the Culling Game that Tengen has been keeping from them, but nobody fucking listens to them. It's so frustrating. Megumi also brings up that they should maybe not 100% trust Tengen, but nothing comes off it. The kids get so caught up in their plans and the opponents that keep popping up around them, that they forget who put them in this situation in the first place. That's how Tengen likes things to go I guess. Make people just forget about her and that's how she keeps getting away with it. And she relies a lot on the influence she established early on.

[ellecdc]

ik my last ask was a lil more serious (and suuuper long, although this one probably wont be much better, sorry 😬) but now i'm here for the goofs n catching up. sorry its been another bit of time again, i had to recover from the fact that YOU! missed little old me?!?! immidiate bedrest as i come to terms with that fact. i figured id answer the questions i asked you (and respond to ur responses) bc i can't help myself!

34) i get not being up to people watching anymore, i'm there too, although i used to be quite the people watcher. there are definitely an influx of people in cities where just having to be in their presence without observing them is tiring (i live by a famous one, boy do i know this fact. one time a guy came up to me on the transit and just started telling me jokes. i didn't even respond, but that didn't matter to him lol. honestly some of the jokes were pretty good.) it's like they do all the people watching work for you.

69) as someone who has unfortunately had to both wash my hair with soap and body with shampoo (don't ask, they were both emergency instances lol) i can confirm that the shampoo option is indeed better by a long shot.

83) oh no sorry for putting you into a tough spot! your song choices are so fun tho, like i just feel happier listening to them, makes me wanna dance (also completely forgot how much chumbawumba's album art fucks me up lol). i got this answer mostly down pat and its like the complete opposite vibe to ur choices lol. my all time favorite song is going to california by led zeppelin so that's my choice, i am forever a slut for it's layered guitar parts and finger picking (and zeppelin in general). a close second is lover, you should've come over by jeff buckley. "broken down and hungry for your love with no way to feed it"?! "my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder"?! "all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter"?! like stfu jeff this is too good for us mortals.

lastly, in my like 10 years of reading fanfic i have never once been inclined to write my own until now, and that's all thanks to you! idk if they will ever get done -one's a honker and it's maybe halfway written, the other is a smut fic which,,, idk man we'll see- much less posted, but you never know 🤷 maybe one day i'll be off anon and have a writing blog. but i want to say thanks for the inspiration to rediscover my love for writing!

hope ur having a wonderful day lovebug 🩷🩷🩷

-ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

OMG SOMEONE ANSWERED THR WURSTIONS BACK IM SO EXCITED

People watching -> okay you’re so right though, people watching IS tiring. I don’t want to be perceived OR perceive!!

Body wash/shampoo -> Nooooo omg okay well I’m glad to know my answer was sound and should I ever find myself in a debacle I will choose wisely [thoughts and prayers to your hair]

Fave songs -> shut up did you actually look up the songs I listed?? That is so cool you’re so cool, what a cutie. Oof but your second song would be such good fic titles or prompts (hint hint you should do it)

And congratulations on your writing! I dont want to take credit at all though, I think you’re just a cool kid(tm) and are gonna do cool kid shit (i.e., writing fanfics) [no but fr, i think writing is so cathartic and good for the soul, it’s self care! I wrote for yeeeaaarrrrrssss before i ever thought to post anything, so even just writing for yourself is fucking tops, you rock it babes]