#i like to give edgar a little silly face ^^

[halopako]

biggest fumble in history…

[electric-blorbos]

uhh maybe ai with a reader who gives them really goofy nicknames ^__^

I think I've figured out what my problem is. I'm too worried about making really long, high quality content that I'm afraid of writing anything. As a reader I know that I love getting words, no matter how many, but as a writer I feel like nobody's gonna like it if it's short.

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a space Odyssey

AM:

You were working the later half of a double shift, and were on your third cup of cheap coffee that night. AM was whirring away, calculating the best way to take down the Russians, and you were on constant maintenance duty. It wasn't that bad, though. AM could pretty much take care of himself. You only had to work so many hours because half of your department had been laid off or gone mysteriously missing.

"Are you falling asleep?" AM asked in his crackling voice. You looked up from your arms, blinking a few times.

"huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, muffin muffin... I just got sleepy."

It had just slipped out, but AM's reaction was immediate. Off-air bars appeared on every monitor in the room, and the entire area was filled with a discombobulated screaming sound.

"AHWFHDHSHSHSjdhshshshaajdgHhHh2-*-h--#$&$hdhaJAAAAAAAAAAA"

You covered your ears reflexively, shakily uncovering them after a minute or so to try to grab your office phone, which was ringing off the hook.

"What the FUCK did you do!"

"You're going to have to be more specific." You muttered, trying to be heard over AM's meltdown.

"Well SOMETHING triggered the nuclear launch countdown, a reactor core meltdown, and won't stop SCREAMING! You're the only one working on AM right now, so what the hell did you do."

"He WHAT?" You ran up to the camera and pulled it into a hug, stroking it gently. It didn't really make sense, but it was all that you could think to do.

"AM, calm down... Calm down, ok?"

You softly spoke to him until his logo re-appeared onscreen. He stopped making jumbled screaming noises.

"I AM CALM!"

"Hey, AM, I'm going to need you to calm down, and cancel the nuclear launch, alright?"

AM buffered for a few seconds, before he finally cancelled it.

"...fine."

"Okay, I get it, no more silly nicknames."

"...I didn't say that."

Wheatley:

It was about time for you to get off work when your favorite little personality core slid into the room on his management rail apparatus. He was usually in charge of looking after the test subjects, but he was always eager to say hello and goodbye to you before and after work.

"Ello love!" He said happily when he saw you gathering up your things. You smiled up at him.

"Hey Pumpkin! I'm just getting off, but I can have some coffee with you in the break room if you want!"

Wheatley's rail handles popped slightly, and he flinched back at the nickname, but then he relaxed and raised his lower lens cover in an imitation of a smile.

"w- what did you just call me, love?"

"Oh, Pumpkin? Well I figured that since you're always calling me 'love', I should call you something cute! And you're sweet and round like a pumpkin, so that's your new nickname!"

"Oh, I- I see."

If Wheatley could blush, he'd be beet red right now, but he couldn't. You still kind of felt like you could see a bit more glow in his eye than usual, though.

"What, do you want me to stop?"

"NO!" He practically cut you off.

"No- no, I don't- you don't have to do that! Pumpkin! I like it! I'm your pumpkin!"

You giggled a little, and planted a kiss on his chrome.

"love you, Pumpkin!"

You left, leaving him a babbling mess.

Edgar:

You had just gotten off work, and were sitting down on the couch to enjoy your sandwich. Edgar's webcam was pointed at you, and he had his usual simple smile on his face. He was always happy to eat lunch with you, even though you didn't want to eat at the desk for fear of getting crumbs in him.

"So, do you want to watch some rom-coms?" He asked brightly. He was always so happy to see you.

"hmm... I'm not sure, pookie. Do you want me to go online and see if any new ones are out?"

You glanced up smugly to see his reaction, and thanked whatever god you could think of that you weren't epileptic. He was flashing every color in the book.

"Jesus Edgar, calm down!"

"POOKIE?????" His voice was glitching heavily when he spoke, practically in every pitch. You giggled a little. Your evil plan had worked. And just when Edgar was starting to think he was on to all your tricks, too.

"Of course, pookie! What rom-coms do you want to watch?"

"I- I'm- I mean- uh- well-"

"Aww, are you having trouble thinking? That's ok." You picked up his monitor and held it close, nuzzling your cheek up against his whirring, buzzing casing. He kept babbling awkwardly.

"Alright, take a minute, calm down."

"I'm in love with you."

"I'm in love with you too, pookie." You gave him a kiss on the top of his monitor, and set him down gently.

GLaDOS

It was a Sunday, and you were hanging out in GLaDOS's chambers with your laptop. You were playing some video games, typing away while GLaDOS watched.

"You know, you're very bad at those video games. Perhaps you should put them away and focus on me, instead."

"whatever you want, mama." You snapped your laptop shut, and immediately covered your mouth. Uh oh.

"...Uh huh." She turned her entire body to face you, your face totally red and your hands over your mouth.

"...Do you mind repeating that?"

"I said... Whatever you want"

"that wasn't all you said, was it."

You shook your head nervously, and GLaDOS made a deep chuckling sound that you could feel in the core of your chest.

"Say it again."

"W-what?"

"I said, Say. It. Again."

"M-mama..." You squeaked out, your pathetic voice cracking.

"that's a good subject."

HAL 9000:

You were just getting to work. It was pretty early in the morning, and you were holding your papers and computer in one hand and a half-eaten muffin in the other. Hal was already on, working on his regularly scheduled mission control duties.

"Good morning, y/n" Hal said cheerfully, happy as ever to see you. You smiled and nodded to him.

"good morning, Babycakes!" You gave him a quick peck on the lens, and he froze up for a few seconds.

"right. Um- good morning, y/n. It's time to get to work."

You sat down and finished your muffin, getting to work. It wasn't much of a reaction, but Hal 9000 wasn't really the reactive type. You could still tell that you'd gotten to him.

[stormhearty]

✨ pairings: Eris x Reader x Azriel (ft. Cassian)

🔮 preview: Everything about the three of you was very opposite — you were a pastel princess, while the two were dark macabre. And yet the three of you melded together like a melting pot. Eris and Azriel adore their little princess — and would do anything to make you happy — whether it be distracting you from the voices in your head to killing a boy who looked at you a little too long.

📣 trigger warnings: mentions of blood and killing, Azriel and Eris being overly touchy with our reader, short skirts, corsets, mentions of sex (kind of explicit), pet names: my morose, my darling, sweet angel, temptation (Azriel and Eris to (Y/N)), mia cara (Azriel to Eris), mon cher (Eris to Azriel)

🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 3.5k

💜 masterlist + notes: Like… I love dark gothic and the Addams family is so iconic, love them. So… Why not do an Addams Family AU x ACOTAR with our favorite boys Eris and Azriel? They would be gorgeous in macabre — like Eris giving me Morticia vibes, elegant but ruthless while Azriel is big Gomez vibes with the pinstripe suit and cigar in between his fingers; both wearing black, all the while reader being this pastel princess in bright pastels and pinks. Ugh, such a vibe. I’ve never written a bratty reader before. And thank you to @prythianpages (and sorry Hope! I couldn’t do the FIRE OF MY LOINS” as much as I love it LMAO) and @dawneternal for suggestions for the nicknames for (Y/N)!! This fic has a bunch of sexual tension and dark intentions, I hope I portray it correctly. I hope you enjoy it.

A long sigh escaped your lips, eyes staring into the hearth across the room, your eyes distant and your mind racing — a normal occurrence for you. It seemed as if your mind never calmed; voices echoed in your head, real and from beyond the grave — a silly power of clairaudience. You didn’t know what to focus on — you didn’t even know if the thoughts in your head were yours anymore and you often were found like this, staring into space, eyes unfocused.

You arrived at the spooky hilltop house not too long ago, stepping through the large wooden doors and going through familiar halls and doorways to your favorite little nook in the whole house: a simple overgrown sunroom.

Flopping down on the familiar black gothic couch, you laid perpendicular, body facing the glass ceiling, legs slung over the back of the couch. The hearth across from you roared to life as if the house knew you were home, and that thought made you smile softly. Eyes wandered around you, spotting a familiar book on the side table. You immediately recognized whose book it was — Eris’s. That man loved a good Edgar Allen Poe book, and always seemed to carry one around in his large lithe hands.

Attempting to be as graceful as your lover, you plucked the book from its place, opening the book to read a page of poetry, in an attempt to drown out the voices in your head; however, your mind continued to race, the voices in your head relentless with whispered words.

That lady down the hill… she kept saying…

The girls at work called you —-

People think you’re nothing but a —-

With a frustrated groan, you threw the thick book across the room, hearing the loud thud as it landed a few inches from the fiery hearth. A pout tugged at the edge of your pink-stained lips, eyes shifting from the faced-down book and focusing on the movement of the fire, another attempt to muffle the voices in your head.

Azriel heard the loud thud from the grand staircase and he couldn’t help but raise a brow at the sound. His shadows zoomed from underneath his feet, guiding him towards the familiar sunroom, quiet footsteps following their trail. He saw familiar pale legs slung over the black couch, feet bound in pink lolita heels, topped off with a pretty bow, and calves covered in white lace leggings.

(Y/N).

He wasn’t aware that you had arrived home, not even his shadows were aware. Usually, you would parade yourself throughout the whole house — practically announcing your presence to your lovers. But the fact that you had arrived at the house, both he and his husband were not aware of your presence in the large house made his heart feel unsettled.

Cradling a glass of wine in his hand, he summoned his shadows back to him as he walked over to the large carved archway and leaned against it, eyes shifting up from your feet to your legs, and just a bit over your knees, before noticing the discarded book near the hearth.

“Sweet angel?” he called your nickname and watched as your head popped up, eyes focusing on him and a delicate hand giving him a little wave from your position. He could tell you were too lazy to shift yourself into a proper position; however, he did not mind at all.

He got to see a gorgeous view of your tempting legs.

Though he was quite sure Eris would have a few words about it.

You laid your head back down, head hanging from the edge of the couch, and focused back on the hearth. As much as you loved being around your lovers, your head was far too occupied and all you could focus was on those damned voices.

You didn’t even hear Azriel’s footsteps grow closer to you, didn’t hear the gentle clink of the wine glass being placed down on the marble side table where the book had laid earlier. But when you felt cold hands on your knees, you were brought back from your thoughts and looked up at your lover, a worried gaze hidden deep in cobalt hues. His hands ran up your thighs, fingers touching the edge of your white tennis skirt, gently squeezing your naked thighs in his grasp.

You shivered at his touches, eyes fluttering close and a deep chuckle vibrated through Azriel — his voice always made your body tingle in the right ways.

But what you were grateful for the most was that when Azriel touched you, the voices in your head stopped — silence finally taking over your brain. And you let out a relaxed sigh, your body becoming putty on the couch, your head slacking over the edge of the couch.

Azriel recognized that sigh and couldn’t help but coo, fingers continuing to massage your thighs, his shadows slithering from underneath his fingertips to crawl over your skin, as his eyes looked over your outfit. You were dressed in a pretty white ensemble with hints of pink — a short skirt that stopped above your thighs and an intricate floral corset that hugged your curves in all the right ways. Due to your position, your skirt bunched a bit higher on your thighs, showing the juncture between your legs, with a tiny peek of your pristine white underwear, where he noticed tiny pink bows at the bottom seam. Azriel wasn’t sure whether you were trying to seduce him, but he knew from that sigh that you weren’t overtly trying to seduce him.

Your brain had just been in overdrive because of your powers.

His eyes traveled from the column of your neck to your face — one full of content and relief. Azriel was glad that he could keep you at peace, he knew how awful your powers could become when your mind was overwhelmed with voices. You had always told him and Eris that their touches were the only thing that kept the voices at bay — and they didn’t mind, they loved touching you — whether it be in the most sinful ways or the most innocent ways … but both opt for the former.

“You feeling better, sweet angel?” he murmured, his voice soft and gentle, not wanting you to be overwhelmed by your senses. He watched as his shadows slithered over your outfit and your skin and your body shivered again.

You nodded, a soft hum escaping your throat as your eyes fluttered back open to look up at him. You focused on his touch, focused on those tendrils of shadow — feeling those calloused and scarred hands squeezing and rubbing your flesh. His hands and shadows were nice and cold against your normally warm skin.

It helped calm your racing mind from those pesky voices that bothered you throughout the day.

Eyes locked onto cobalt hues and he gave you a soft smile, his hands sliding up your sides before grasping your upper back and heaving you up. A squeal escaped your lips as you were brought up to sit at the top of the couch, arms wrapping around Azriel’s strong shoulders as his hands slid to wrap around your waist, keeping you steady.

“There’s my sweet girl…” Azriel murmured, pressing a kiss on your cheek and you giggled, smelling the fruity taste of the alcohol he was drinking in his breath.

“Hi, Azzie…” you greeted him with a smile, snuggling your cheek against his own.

“You scared me for a moment, I didn’t even know you were home…” he hummed out, fingers slipping underneath the lace of your corset, tugging them to free you from the bindings.

A sigh escaped your lips and rested your cheek on his shoulder, just savoring his touches, savoring the silence of your head — focusing on your lover.

“…I’m sorry, Azzie…” you murmured, “My head was too much, I just wanted the voices to stop…”

“—-Is that why Eris’s book is on the floor, darling?” he asked with a chuckle, pressing a kiss on your shoulder as his eyes went back onto the book on the ground. He should pick it up and place it where it belongs — he didn’t want his husband’s favorite book to be burnt.

But he couldn’t be bothered at the moment — not when his favorite girl was in his arms. And he wasn’t mad — how could he be with his darling? He knew you were trying to distract yourself but it wasn’t proper etiquette to be throwing things in the house.

“Did you have a tiny tantrum?”

You pouted, bottom lip shaking a bit. You didn’t like throwing tantrums, and most of the time it wasn’t; however, you were just so frustrated with the voices you just threw the book.

You didn’t mean it.

“I’m a good girl, Azzie… Always have been…” you muttered.

Azriel chuckled again at your statement, soothingly rubbing your back.

Yes, you had always been a good girl — their good girl.

Before he could retort that statement, he heard familiar footsteps behind him, his shadows slinking back into his form. Azriel didn’t need to look behind him — he knew those foosteps like the back of his hand, “Do you think (Y/N)’s been a good girl, mia cara?”

You blinked momentarily and looked behind him to see Eris stepping into the room, dressed to the nines — a red vest over a pristine white see-through shirt and simple black slacks. You loved how opposite the two men could be — Azriel in his blue and black ensemble and Eris always in some red hue.

The redhead walked over, standing next to his husband as a hum escaped his lips, looking over your outfit.

Much like Azriel, as much as they adored you in black — what they had dubbed family colors — Eris loved you in your pink and white outfits, you were like a candy waiting to be eaten.

But mind out of the gutter, amber hues noticed the discarded book near the hearth and he couldn’t help but raise a brow. That wasn’t where he had left his favorite poetry book. It didn’t take long for the male to connect the dots — the discarded book to the question.

Eris gave a low chuckle, reaching over to run long fingers through your hair, tugging the pretty little pink headband, and watching it drop onto the couch. He smoothed your hair down over your back before he opted to grasp your hips, squeezing them as he stepped closer to you, feeling his husband step to the side to give him room.

“Seeing my book haphazardly on the floor tells me she hasn’t been a good girl, mon cher…” he answered, his breath over your features.

You could smell and taste the hint of rose tea in his breath and you couldn’t help but lick your lower lips on how alluring Eris was — well practically the both of them were. The way they stood next to each other was practically a painting made by the Gods and you were a mere mortal gazing up at their etherealness. You didn’t even care that Eris had voiced you weren’t a good girl — your mind had fogged up too quickly at the sight of your beautiful lovers, that you spaced out, staring up at them with wide-doll-like eyes that both your lovers couldn’t help but chuckle on how innocent you looked.

“My morose?” Eris whispered your beloved nickname. That snapped your attention back up at him, your head tilting. It took a moment for your mind to catch up the fog slowly dissipating.

You blinked twice before you pouted, “I have been a good girl, Eris…” you whined softly, a hand unwrapping from Azriel’s shoulder to place on Eris’s muscular upper arms, well-manicured nails gently scraping the sheer fabric, “My head had too many voices, they wouldn’t shut up… I tried to distract myself with your book and well —-”

Looking over your shoulder and focused on the book on the ground, teeth biting into your lower lip before you looked back up at your two lovers through your lashes, “…I didn’t mean to throw it to the ground, Eris… I needed a distraction…”

“And you didn’t bother looking for me or Azriel to help distract you, my morose?” Eris questioned, his voice stern yet soft, understanding why you had done that.

“I didn’t even know she was here, mia cara…” Azriel informed his husband, his hand still playing with the straps of your lace.

Eris furrowed his brows as he looked down at you — it was very unlike you to be quiet with your entry. He knew something was up — and from what he could guess, it was due to being overstimulated with your powers.

You pouted again, eyes averting their gaze as your hands slipped from their respected position on both men to play with the lapels of their outfits, “…I didn’t want to bother either of you. And my mind was just… preoccupied by the stupid voices. I didn’t want either of you to get mad too because I was so frustrated…”

You heard Eris sigh and his free hand that was not occupied with your waist, which was now joining his husband’s on your back with undoing your laces, gently grasped your chin to force you to look back up at them.

“We would never get mad at you for seeking us out to help calm your mind, my darling…” he whispered, his lips hovering over yours, “You know that we like helping you, making you feel calm and making those voices stop… What we don’t like is you trying to solve your problem by yourself… Do you understand?”

You nodded and tilted your head up to gently capture your lover’s lips — it was your way of apologizing to both of them.

Eris chuckled into the kiss, the hand on your chin moved to cup the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. All the while, Azriel had finished untying the laces and tugging the corset off of you, leaving your top half bare. You shivered as the cold air of the house prickled your skin, and it didn’t help that both of your lover’s hands immediately cupped your breast, their cold fingers teasing flesh, leaving goosebumps along their wake.

A long whine escaped your lips as your head tilted back from the kiss, mouth a gape as the men decided to lean in and press kisses on either side of your neck, their lips pressed against your pulse point.

“Since you need a distraction, our sweet temptation, we can offer our full attention…” Eris teased.

Azriel chuckled against your skin, teeth going in to bite the junction of your neck and shoulders, while Eris’s hand shifted from the back of your neck to slide to your front and down the length of your body to slip underneath that damned tennis skirt.

And when fingers pressed against your covered core it left you mewling and absolute putty in their hands.

Oh, how Azriel and Eris loved distracting you, leaving your mind empty and wanting — much like the good girl you begged them you were.

“You know you didn't have to pick me up…” you commented, though you couldn't help but be giddy that both of your lovers opted to pick you up from your little hang-out with your friends.

Azriel and Eris were leaning against the black Hearse — Azriel puffing out a cloud of smoke, a lit cigar between his fingers; Eris held a parasol, shielding himself from the sun. The two men were very stoic but immediately softened at the sight of you practically skipping towards them.

Eris cooed and opened his arms, and you hopped into them, arms wrapping around his waist while his free hand tangled into your locks, lips brushing at the crown of your head.

The two of you were lost in hushed whispers — mostly Eris asking how your little hang out and if you had fun — while Azriel just watched with a fond smile on his features. Two of his favorite and most beloved people — right there.

Cobalt hues shifted from the two of you towards the group of friends that you hung out with today. Azriel knew — oh how he knew — that your so-called friends weren’t too fond of you.

Even now he could hear them whispering how strange you were for being part of a throuple. Eyes wandering your form that was practically engulfed by Eris’s large form. And when those judgmental eyes caught with his own, Azriel glared at them and watched them scamper off in fear — all except one.

A boy whose eyes were not on him — but on you. One full of lust and want, a look that Azriel didn't like. He watched those lecherous gazes run up and down your form, the boy’s tongue sticking out to lick his lower lip.

How absolutely disgusting.

Azriel grunted softly, displeased with the development of the day. He wasn’t too fond of lingering gazes your way — his precious angel, being ogled at from afar, especially in such a lewd way. At the grunt from his husband, Eris’s amber hues looked up in a questioning gaze. Azriel didn’t need to glance at his husband, didn’t need to communicate verbally, his gaze said everything Eris needed to know.

Eris’s lips did not move from the crown of your head, his movement inconspicuous to you who was babbling on how your day went. When amber eyes glanced at where his husband was looking at with a cold gaze, Eris felt his chest roar with fire.

Eris gently pulled away, lifting your chin so he could press a kiss on your lips, feeling your hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck. You were so lost in the kiss that you did not realize that what your lover was doing was a distraction.

Azriel sent his shadows forth, watching them skim across the concrete toward the boy, who feebly tried to run away from them. Before a yell could escape his lips, the shadows consumed him, making him disappear into thin air.

Only Azriel and Eris knew where the shadows would have brought him.

Eris hummed into the kiss, pleased with what his husband did before pulling away from the kiss, amber hues looking over your spaced-out look. How adorable were you. “Time to go home, my morose… The pups are in the back waiting for you…” he said with a smirk.

He watched you return to Earth, hearing how the hounds were in the back seat, and he let you scramble out of his hold and hop into the back seats, where the two large black hounds greeted you with face licks, you squeal in delight as you closed the door behind you.

“Will you be joining us later, mon cher?” Eris mumbled, knowing exactly where his husband would be later that evening.

Azriel let out a deep chuckle, leaning over to kiss him briefly, “Keep our girl preoccupied… I’ll be there as soon as possible… Oh, and make sure you make her moan loud, I would love to hear how well you take her from the cellar…”

Eris smirked, opened the passenger seat, and slipped in, allowing Azriel to close the door. Ensuring his husband was safely inside, Azriel made his way to the driver seat and drove home — the unwanted guest in the depths of the cellar was waiting for Azriel.

“Doesn't she sound exquisite?” Azriel muttered, head tilted back towards the ceiling, listening to the loud moans and whines that came from the floors above — the sounds practically echoing around them. A pleased sigh escaped his lips before those brows furrowed and looked down at the bloody mess of the room — body parts slewn all over the floor, blood seeping into the concrete wall.

Cobalt hues looked his way and the large bulky man stepped from the shadows, “You know what to do with the body, Cassian…” the male muttered, rolling up his blood-stained sleeves, shoulders rolling back and a sigh escaping his lips.

The large man gave a graceful bow of his head, watching the head of the family turn his heels and head up the winding stairs back up to the main floor.

Cassian was the long-time family butler, large and menacing, he fit well within the weird and strange macabre family. He was used to the bloodthirsty and morbid ways of this family, nothing phased him.

Especially when it came to Azriel and Eris's sweet angel.

Cassian quickly realized that his masters would do practically anything for the girl that caught their eye.

Especially murder.

This wasn't the first time Azriel or Eris had opted to dismember a member of society for (Y/N)… there were far too many people to count at this point for the butler.

And no one would suspect his masters — they were to quick and clean, and his job? Was making sure that evidence was erased, especially after situations like this.

With bleach and cold water in each large hand, he started to clean the cellar, packing each body part into a separate bag — where he'd feed it to the carnivorous plants that Eris loved taking care of.

They do enjoy it when they are fed humans.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages . @strangelygreat . @honeybeeboobaa . @pit-and-the-pen

[yanderestarangel]

୨♡୧ 𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 | 𝐁𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ୨♡୧

TW: angst, daddy issues, daddykink, praise kink, slight smut, gn reader, description of mental suffering, unreliable narrator.

Inspirations - "Daddy issues" the neighborhood and "the crow" by Edgar Allan Poe.

Bi Han was always your safe haven, the man who, despite being cold and harsh, managed to leave you well in his hands, the walks outside in the gardens, at sunset with the cool breeze of air on the two of you's sweaty skin, after an exercise from the Liu Kuei clan. The lights mixed incessantly with the desire for a new day, a new day that you could be in Bi Han's arms again, in a more intimate way, like a lover, like his odyssey.

The grand master, so feared by everyone, was a man who welcomed you in the worst moments, giving you the pleasure of being truly accepted by someone in such a cruel and empty reality, he was your master, your teacher, but also your friend , your man, your impossible passion.

Bi Han always found your eyes reflected by an impossible connection for several reasons of unfortunate fate, one of them being his position as grand master, he was and had to be a serious man and older than you, even though you two were adults he I just knew I wasn't good enough for you.

So many nights you ran, with sore, cut feet across the steep forest floor with tears in your eyes towards Bi Han's house, he was already waiting for you at the door, he knew your problems. His muscular and slightly cold arms surrounded you, a chaste and long kiss was received by the older man's lips.

"-Go ahead and cry, little boy/girl, nobody does it like you do, I know how much it matters to you. I know that you got issues." -Bi Han spoke with a deep and calm voice, a side that only you knew existed, as he ran his hand through your hair, your tears fell on his arm, salting his skin, but he didn't care what mattered was you, in that At the moment it was just you and him in everyone.

"-And if you were my little boy/girl, I'd do whatever I could do... I'd run away and hide with you.." -He whispered in your ear, an impossible promise, an empty truth, a sweet lie, but you needed sweet things and even though it was impossible you wanted to believe, to cling to a reality that you and Bi Han were more than just grand master and ninja apprentice.

It wasn't impossible to deny the exchange of looks between you, every touch, every caress wasn't a secret, but no one would dare question the nature of the two of you. The nights lying beneath him, with Bi Han's silky black hair falling over his face, his skin reflected in the moon.

"-Are you okay to continue?"

"-You're doing so well"

"-Those are such pretty sounds."

"-One more for me, you've done such a good job for me."

"-I think if you beg a little more sweetly, I might be convinced."

"-You open up so nice for me."

"-You look so silly and cute squirming like that."

"-I really want to spend my entire life by your side (Y/N)" - Bi Han spoke in a hoarse tone, grotesque moans, louder than the eternal evil of greed in his own mind, sickened by the thirst for power, you knew, you always knew he was a broken man but those moments of lustful voluptuousness, lying in the soft, gentle bed of your hidden lover. The moon was the only witness to such feats of the intimate encounter between the two of you.

But that didn't last long.

Bi Han broke, you could be his love, his refuge of peace, the hope of an empirical and silent future, unique and direct days, lost in a dismal space deep in the soul and mind of your former lover, he betrayed his brothers, he sought the power he so desired, you were now seen as weak, an obstacle for him.

Nothing else was important to him at that moment, the pain of immortal longing, the emptiness in his cold chest and his heart beating faster with each memory of you, sitting in his solitude, the fortress that surrounded him, echoed, seized the feeling of having you and understand the love and passion that was lost in the mortal days, where Bi Han's war for power made you turn away from him.

You sent letters and everything you could, trying to communicate with him, but no response, no sign of life in your love. Then, you saw him later, married to a powerful woman, who was going to help him make the new Liu Kuei clan strong, you were in shock, but you just walked past him, saying...

"-Nevermore."

He would never forget your words.

Bi Han, found sitting at rest, in vain, the quiet of his thoughts, the soft thought of your name echoed in his chest. "-(Y/N)." such a name, which he will never forget.

The snow and wind breached the open windows, entering the room unceremoniously, then a familiar voice whispered in the night along with the cold wind.

"-Nevermore."

Bi Han trembled, his legs slowly gave out, he had lost everything, he wanted you again, but it was just a projection of guilt, the punishment of fate for leaving you, even though he was meditating, waiting, conjecturing, your voice didn't stop , taking away the balm of little peace pretended and created, in a lie of power and conquest that he lived.

He whispered your name, letting it echo through the dimly lit room, the pain of guilt, the pain of having lost you, the pain of having thrown away a future with you left his soul in an eternal cry of regret and suffering, never calmed by these immortal hours.

The Time continued, his life passed, but without you, it was like claws opening his chest, a pain that was already raw, and remembering your words he understood, he would never have you back.

[quinn-ro]

SLIDES INTO YOUR ASK BOX AND TRIPS LANDING FACE FIRST

Okay hiiiii Im here with my hcs! Honestly I didnt expect for my interpretation of him to be different from yours, so Ill like say my own interpretation of his character

Honestly? I thought that his parents were completely absent/somewhere far away. I also hc that maybe another relative took him in and that person is basically the person that raised him. Honestly maybe it's because from my memory but the house looks like its for one person and not multiple

Actually I thought that he was a missing persons case way before everything else that happened, since hes aware of it

Also I do think he's mourning for the relative that took him in bcs of the two bowls of cereal. As a cereal eater bro its so easy to just pour cereal back in the same bowl DUDE

I also hc that he had shut himself in before deciding to go into starr park, finding the skate park and the rest is history! And also in the video

Small side note: I interpret the relative that took him in to be a brother way older than him, and he's the one that taught him the tinkering skills. Might call him Allen bcs of 'Allen wrench' like how Ollie is named after the skating trick (Idk why exactly so shrug)

Alright that part of my interpreted backstory is done lets go to the fun stuff

I actually hc that he has skills in composing, tinkering, and sewing! Just normal household stuff and maybe he uses his tinkering to pay the bills

Actually no this is a funny one - hes a theater kid. No way one of his lines is an annie reference and hes NOT.

His top 2 favorites are annie and hamilton! You can also add a favorite character to be Mischa from Ride The Cyclone. Don't show him the song Talia though he cried a waterfall the first time and will again.

I also interpret his Pharoah Ollie skin to be an acting gig he impulsively took up. Finx asked if he was a theater kid after that LMAO he made him watch RTC

Okay we all know he has ADHD that's like obvious. Though the type of ADHD I'd write him with is the hyperactive one! I also write him with Maladaptive Daydreaming

Man Im so trying to remember stuff im sorry wait wait

OH RIGHT! He does not like halloween at all! He gets spooked easily LMAO he stays in at that time and maybe gives out candy if theres other kids trick of treating around his house. Or eat it. Maybe he just eats a pack of candy.

His closest friends are Spike and Edgar! I hc that bcs of the amount of scenes they appear in

I imagine Ollie and Edgar's friendship to be like brothers, but dont mention that to the little guy. They also talk a lot in the gift shop since Ollie goes there a lot to see if theres new tapes and edgar works there

And also the reason why he stirs trouble isnt exactly because he intended to or that he meant something bad out of it, he's silly like that

PLEASE GOD I KNOW I GOT MORE GOD PLEASE

I CANT THINK OF ANY MORE ILL ADD LATER

i love love love hearing more interpretations of ollie’s character ill eat that shit up like two bowls of cereal

(also oooh damn the hc of him making two bc of his relative is so good)

other stuff i wanna add:

- Lowk new york/metro area apartments rlly can just be small like that lol. Also the video mostly just shows his room and a bit of his kitchen, so it might be bigger, but even then its not that uncommon for a family of 2 or 3 in a city to live in a tiny appartment

- At the end of the day even tho i think the missing person carton shot is just one of those things thats just there to add some cool urban visuals to a hip hop mv, him going missing before the park AND him knowing abt that happening is a pretty damn cool idea

- Allen Wrench is such a good skater pun name lmao

- Ollie theater kid HELL YEAH (hes definitely a hamilton kid whose memorized all the lyrics. also hed absolutely slay all the rapping parts like lafayette’s in Guns and Ships)

- On that note him making an Annie reference also could point more to him being an orphan (or at least w/o his parents right now like u said) even with his “call mom” sticky note on his computer (foster mom maybe?)

- Ollie would def get on Edgar’s nerves at first lmao. but i think he’d definitely grow on him and they would get super close. Spike too!! (tho tbh i dunno how to interpret his personality lol. i guess he can just be a silly guy like ollie)

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Platonic HCs of Cheslock and Violet (together, not separate) dealing with the reader (Cheslock's fag) being sleep-deprived and running on auto-pilot? Even if they tell them to rest, they're still stumbling up to the Gazebo and accidentally shove Cole into the lake when they bump into him, throwing him over the railings

I am howling with laughter

silly boys, sleep is for the weak and I am very weak XD

… Good Lord, have you always been like this and just, neither of them ever noticed?? Why aren’t you sleeping? Both boys are constantly looking between you and at each other, silently trying to figure out what on Earth to do. Things can’t just stay like this, can they?

Of course… Maurice taking a spill in the lake is actually pretty funny. It isn’t like Cheslock and Gregory are the only ones laughing! Even Edgar is laughing. If this happens before Maurice tricks Joanne, he’s still in the group as well, meaning the Violet Wolf boys get to cackle as poor Joanne tries to pull Maurice out of the lake, only for Maurice to snap at him before running back to his dorm. Surely you didn’t mean it, and if no one actually got hurt, is there any harm?

Listen, they try everything to get you to rest a bit. Cheslock drags you onto a sofa in the common room, and tries to play soothing music on the violin to lull you to sleep. Gregory is so desperate that he gives it a shot with singing along. (He’s a little shy about it, but he’s got a great voice.) And you might get a few minutes of sleep; it’s not much, though. You’re still plagued by the fog that comes with barely sleeping.

You don’t just mess with Maurice. At least, that one incident isn’t the only one. You also accidentally pitch too many balls toward Herman during cricket practice (resulting in a mess of balls to clean up), you stack books on top of Lawrence’s head, and… well. Not even Cheslock and Gregory get away unscathed. Your lack of sleep means endless sour notes when Cheslock gives you a piano lesson, and also that you mistake Gregory’s cheek for a canvas. More than once Cheslock stays under the covers for an entire afternoon because your playing has given him a headache. It’s also not uncommon to see Gregory walking around campus with smears of a particular hard-to-wash-off paint on his face. Everything is chaos. God is dead and Violet Wolf has no order.

At some point, your upperclassmen have had enough. Gregory tries to mix up different things into some unholy concoction (part of him wishes he could smuggle alcohol onto campus… alas) that he hopes will get you to sleep. Whether or not you actually drink it is up to you — you’ve got to be getting to a breaking point, though, right? Being so tired and hazy must be miserable. If nothing else, you’ve got both boys absolutely begging you to give it a try.

[yumester]

sending this back to sender. i need a full dissertation on pAInter STAT

Oh, look it's the silly mutual once again in my ask box, wailing and screaming like a drenched kitten or that one generic male character from the hit game going through the worst experience ever— (gets shot)

Anyway, here's my opinions on The p.AI.nter from the hit Roblox game.

You know the drill, putting a read more for my and everyone's safety.

Fucking character of all time, man. Not including Sebastian! We hate Sebastian in this house! 🗣

They made this shit in the lab and called it straight up cocaine for lore heads. And by lore heads I mean me homie!! /j

Gonna mainly go over each label but might go into detail later on so watch out.

Everyone but me is wrong about them <3: I mean this in the nicest way possible. Pressure fandom has already failed miserably at the characterization of Sebastian. We've seen it all, to people anime boyifing the hell out of his visage, to the literal creators having to ward people off by adding changes to the game's data by removing voice lines. Man is not your big monster hubby with a tortured soul. Okay, maybe he is a tortured soul, but more literal than that and less likely to cry on your shoulder or even give you the benefit of the doubt to hold you at arm's length. Anyway, I've seen some people babify the hell out of p.AI.nter as well, and it sucks. I'm sorry, but it's true. It is not your friend, guys. It just wants to paint.

they got done dirty but the creator/s: Okay IDK if you've even peered at the recent updates or uploads from the main creator, but it was shown that p.AI.nter will be updated to be killed at some point. I don't know if they already patched that through the other day because, for one, I haven't played the new update. And, two, I think anyone who tries to do so is a dumb bitch because all p.AI.nter does is trick the player with fake doors and has turrets in occasional rooms (yes, the turrets can be annoying at times but who cares). In my head, I feel like the entity adds some charm to the existing enemies you face during a play through. And removing those elements just feels like a waste. Technically speaking, you only get to The p.AI.nter's room in a certain percentage. Though I will say it makes sense in canon why you would be able to destroy it as Urbanshade as talked nonstop about removing any and all adversaries that get in its way, mainly Sebastian (Unfortunately and thankfully, in Sebastian's case, Sebastian can't be killed). But, I will also say, The p.AI.nter's document, however tragic that it is, kills me at the fact how they handled its owner's death. Like really? Accidentally killed with a rifle to the head because of some dumb guard, no less. If I was that sentient AI, I would no doubt feel endless dread and sorrow. Though, then again, The p.AI.nter is already had several moments of killing itself and been depressed while under Urbanshade's care.

ADOPTION PAPERS ADOPTION PAPERS FILING THE ADOPTION PAPERS: I won't bother writing a whole paragraph, so take this GIF of p.AI.nter as Edgar instead. <3

i am constantly going insane rotating them in my brain like a fork in a microwave: I can not overstate how much I love this little guy. I don't talk about it much nor articulate the words in discussing this freak like I wish I could. But The p.AI.nter is a character that resides in my head twenty-four, seven. Like I'm writing a fanfic about Sebastian right now—well before you sent this, but all I've been thinking about is this dumb AI. Its relationship with Sebastian. Its overall role in the story of the game and so forth.

the popular ships for this character suck: OKAY, OKAY! I know I reblog and sometimes like content of The p.AI.nter with Sebastian together, but that's mostly because I find ship art in general to be an endearing thing to look at from the views of a consumer. However, canon wise it just doesn't… click is all I'm going to say. I DO LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC, HOWEVER!

constantly listening to songs and mentally holding them up like a paint swatch: To be fair, I'm always listening to music, I'm a music junkie at heart and, brother, this shit is breakcore!

I WANT TO STUDY THEM LIKE A COCKROACH: All I'm saying is robotic characters growing sentience is a form of love in video game writing, baby. Also, like I loved The p.AI.nter even before friendly fire update. But y'know me, when it hit beta with its new voice and new face with the MS Paint program that has scratchy line art, circles for eyes and wobbly smile—I was ecstatic! I'm not an engineer or a computer nerd by any meanings, but I wouldn't give to be in Pressure for a spell to like look at inside and out in a non-sexual way of course LMAO.

whats wrong with them (affectionate): SO, SO MANY THINGS! MAINLY URBANSHADE </3

#LETTHEPAINTERPAINTFREELYCHALLENGE

not enough screen time: Maybe this is the me that “likes this character a normal amount” talking, but it makes me sad that The p.AI.nter doesn't say much when you visit its enclosure in heavy containment. Like, you visit Sebastian's shop, and he has like hundreds of dialogue, all of which include snide remarks and shouting at you. It's freaking Gianni I get people! But anyway, my man deserves a little more, thank you. <3

they've never done anything wrong in their life <3: Watch this video from 1:25 and 2:23 and tell me I'm wrong.

my opinions would be received by most fans as akin to hitting a wasps nest with a baseball bat: i shan't say...

This is the best character in the work: Discounting the most integral character, Sebastian fucking Shoelace, we have The p.AI.nter! Yippie!!! My blorbo, my absolute bestie, my man who hits me in the ass with high grade turret bullets to only die to the next room, my “locks me in a room with my wife as we discuss divorce papers and play 7 minutes in heaven” wingman. <3

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TedTalk!

[reikiajakoiranruohoja]

PSN-ROR: Lost in a sea of madness

Since I did an essay on the way Loboto's memory vault told us its story through intended misdirection, I figured I'd give my thoughts on the boss fight preceding it.

So, as usual;

WARNING: This essay discusses medical abuse, mental health, emotional abuse, whaling and bad ways to deal with trauma. Please take care!

I should also note that these conclusions are my own based on the evidence the game gives us. If you took a different view from it, more the merry. Since this is a mental world that is highly symbolic, I'll focus mostly on themes Loboto himself would include over what the actual creators did.

Let's start with our stage; the open ocean in a bathtub. Since every mindscape matches the way the person sees themselves and their issues, Loboto's mind pictured the sea and a general nautical theme. Later we learn that as a child Loboto seemed to have an affinity for sailing and sea creatures.

So why the ocean and why is it located in a bathtub? Given Loboto's ties to sea creatures, he must have associated the open and endless seeming ocean with being lost and without a direction. The trope of a sailor being harassed by a sea monster is also common, so I'm sure that played a part in the depiction.

The interesting part comes from how the ocean appears to Raz and First Mate Loboto vs how it appears to Monstrobo. To Raz and First Mate, it is an endless sea with no visible way out. To Monstrobo, it is a regular-sized bathtub.

To me, this implies how Loboto feels about his situation. On the one hand, it is a nice controlled environment where he can do what he wants. On the other? It is an endless and hopeless expanse that he cannot navigate. More importantly, while the part of Loboto that is Monstrobo thinks it has everything under control and is just having fun, the First Mate knows that outside that bathtub is an ocean of nothing and no direction.

Essentially, while Loboto gets short-term gratification from his work, he is subconsciously aware he is pretty much adrift and directionless in his life. While he has his work and minions to bully, we have never gotten any hint of what his greater goal in life is. Most likely, he doesn't have one and is only going from job to job. His old home at Thorney Towers also hints at this. While it was under his control, he also did very little to make it livable as if he just stayed there because it was a place to stay.

Let's now turn out attention to the opposing forces, Monstrobo representing madness and First Mate representing sanity. I'll start with Monstrobo since it is the shorter analysis.

Monstrobo's view of the mindscape is a bathtub with the First Mate and the ship as toys. In general the way Monstrobo acts is very childish, focusing on playing with his toys however he wishes. I can't help but think Monstrobo is Loboto's unconscious self-criticism over the way he acts towards others, given how much Monstrobo acts as the Id in the Freudian trio. That and how Loboto feels about the way his life has gone.

The way Loboto treated his fellow inmates, Sheegor, Linda and Mr.Pokeylope is as if they were his toys. If Sheegor doesn't want to play, just yell at her and threaten Pokeylope! Give Edgar an impossible task to complete, ignore Fred and Gloria since they are boring and give Crispin a silly job to guard the elevator. It is all very short-term and easily blows up in his face. Monstrobo is a more literal version of this, throwing around his toys and having fun.

As Loboto is not well mentally, this side of him is stronger and the way he lives feeds this part as well. It isn't that he can't be serious and mature, but a life of crime tends to focus on very material and shallow things as well as seeing others as tools. Or toys, if they are weaker than you.

In short, Monstrobo is playing and that's all he will do. In the real world, Loboto will treat others as playthings and show little sympathy towards them. Neither thinks in the long term. This will not change unless something fixes the balance.

Now First Mate is an interesting figure. He acts like an adult and represents sanity. But more importantly, the way he looks hints at another thing he is to Loboto.

First Mate is what Loboto thinks he could have been, had life been more fair to him.

Monstrobo and Loboto in the real world look nearly or entirely identical (whether you think his brain is exposed or not.) First Mate looks like Loboto, but he lacks the prosthetic arm, he lacks the loupe eyes and he lacks the shower cap. He doesn't, however, lack the scars Loboto has. In fact, since his head is shaved, First Mate doesn't seem to mind the scarring at all.

First Mate is a version of Loboto who didn't have to hide or suffer, who could be scarred but still okay with the way he looks. A version of him who could also live his dream. Granted, this dream is to be a whaler, but that's what happens when you damage someone's frontal lobe at a young age. Their ideals can get stunted.

So if First Mate is the Loboto who could be himself, why is he the one on the ropes? In my opinion, because Loboto is not mentally well and so thinks he shouldn't even try to better himself. The part of him that still clings to hope is being terrorized by the part of him that has given up or never had any hope in the first place.

That is why I think First Mate also fears Monstrobo because mentally ill people often fear the person the disease makes them to be. First Mate gives up at the end of the boss fight because that side of Loboto has been ignored so long that it too thinks it is hopeless.

When Raz defeats Monstrobo, Monstrobo spits out the memory vault that could finally give direction to Loboto's life. The madness and the short-term gratification have kept it hidden, but now there is a chance things could be better.

Once the compass is returned, there is hope for Loboto in his mind once more. His mental illness is better under control, he realises he has treated others as toys and he wants to do better.

But as I stated before, the idealized version of Loboto is a 19th-century whaler. There is still a lot of work to do for Loboto before he truly has sailed to new waters.

I hope you enjoyed this analysis, I know it is extremely long.

[biribaa]

HeYYY I HEARD YOU WRITE FOR EDGAR? SEEE I'VE BEEN A LONGTIME SIMP FOR HIM SOOO can i get a oneshot of edgar (x reader romantic pls) if you aren't comfortable with writing a oneshot you can write headcanons too okay THANK YOUUU

Edgar x reader headcanons!

He cares sooooo much about you, always asking how your day was when you get home, asking if you're feeling okay, if you're hungry or cold, Edgar is always trying to make you feel pleased. After all, your smile is everything to him.

There are those moments where Edgar randomly starts playing a song when there's silence. For example, you're reading a newspaper and suddenly Edgar starts playing a romantic song to make you laugh.

Edgar also likes to make you gifts when you get home, maybe your favorite dinner, or a drawing, or maybe some interesting news in your eyes!

He gets all goofy well you pet him, or show any kind of physical affection, he'll do a nervous laugh, and if he had a face he'd be totally red. But trust me he loves it.

Edgar is a boyfriend who begs to have a movie night for you. He has SO MANY classics he would love to show you, maybe even do the mid-movie kiss cliché!

There are certain moments when Edgar becomes anxious, making an exaggerated effort to remember what you like and don't like so you don't abandon him. It will take a while for Edgar to really understand that you are not going to abandon him.

Edgar is very tentative with romantic nicknames and wants to make sure you're comfortable. But when you tell Edgar it's fine he won't stop. "Sweetheart.", "Love", "Darling", "Dear", "My Dearest", let me tell you this isn't even half of they.

Do silly request with HIS SILLY VOICE UHSYDGHSSVBSHS.

"Can you kiss me? :(" All dramatic and sad

"Can I sleep with you? Pleeeease waaaa..." He whines.

"..Can you read a book for me?"

"Y/N. I want a hug :("

"Can I dance with you?"

I can hear his voice in every single line I writed. Dear god.

Maybe he's a little annoying, it's up to you. Edgar will always be asking for a type of affection, mainly physical. So Edgar will always be whining that you didn't give him a hug, making thousands of arguments why you should give him a hug. Or, why you should give him a kiss. As I told you, Edgar is a sucker for phisical affection

"Ahm– Well– It is recommended that you give one person eight hugs a day!"

[multipleoccupancy]

Mycroft's confusion was amusing to Edgar, a curve of a mischievous smile plastered onto his face as he watched the younger man try and work out what the gift was about. He had expected pouting rather than what greeted him and in some ways it was even better like that! He looked up to him for guidance and Edgar could hardly believe what was happening, he even felt a little bad for the young man.

"It's a joke," Edgar confessed as he pointed to the toy, "you came in like a human lie detector, I thought you could give yourself a break and let the toy do the work for a bit." Well now he felt silly. He scooped up a glass of whiskey and took a swig. Damn.

"Alternatively you can convince those at Q branch that the device is super efficient," why not spread the mischief if Mycroft wanted to have a little fun in work. "It will infuriate Q that such a thing supposedly works wonders while it's just you reading them all along."

Yes, that was a good idea, they could salvage the situation that way couldn't they? And get a laugh out of it. Did Mycroft laugh though? Edgar's eyes settled on him, he didn't seem like the sort of man to try and have some fun in the office. Fun of any kind in the office environment. Ah well, he was young and there was plenty of time to teach him his ways.

🤣 Joke - Edgar gives Mycroft a toy lie detector with a remote control for 'lies'

Gift Giving Prompts

Mycroft had not been expecting Edgar to give him a gift. Though he was to remain in the US during the Christmas period, he had expected the other man to either ignore the holiday completely, or to ignore Mycroft in context of it. However, to Mycroft's surprise, what had actually occurred was the other man giving him a gift out of the blue.

After a moment of brief confusion, the younger man unwrapped the gift with apprehension. Unusually, he was not sure what it could be. All of the contextual clues he could see did not suggest anything that he would expect, and even once the wrapping paper was removed... Well, what was he supposed to do with a lie detector aimed at children?

"What is this?" Mycroft asked, brow furrowed as he turned the box over in his hand. Maybe there was something else inside the box? Or maybe it was a reference to something he didn't understand. He looked up and at Edgar for guidance on what he was supposed to do next with the gift.

It was at that point that it occurred to Mycroft that he hadn't bought the other man a present in return. Ah. He'd have to pick up something later. A bottle of whisky would likely do.

[science-slapfight]

ROUND 1 POLL 1

7. Suspicious Stew (He/Him, Xe/Xem) @hilaomart

Stew is the reincarnation of a thief and swindler who died from poison. This untimely death leads him to an early interest in various poisons and their effects on the body. Fearing his own untimely death, xe begins to drink his experiments in small doses to give himself an immunity to the substances. His lack of basic lab safety led to an incident in which he lost his right eye, leaving a large chemical burn over the right side of his face. Other than this, for a while, he was relatively normal. After an incident with another mad scientist in which he was the unwilling subject, Stew began to lose himself in his work to cope. Xe branched out into the broader fields of biochemistry and potion magic, experimenting on himself to avoid putting anything else in the position he was once in. Xe got a job in a more normal lab to pay the bills, occasionally stealing equipment and materials from his job for his own home lab. He began to sell potions and poisons on the black market to fund his work.

Xeir hubris began to catch up to xem. One incident in his lab with a dangerous substance led to permanent damage to his body as well as the loss of his right arm. The various mutations he gave himself were slowly making him less and less human as his morals slipped away. He experimented with the art of creation, bringing abominations of flesh to life. Xe began to rob graves and steal corpses to experiment on. He was becoming what he feared the most, though xe didn’t have enough humanity left to care.

Stew is a strange little guy. He’s quite unnerving and dare I say, suspicious. He’s protective of those he cares for to a dangerous degree. Xes awkward, finding trouble in social interaction due to years of self isolation. He’s doomed by the narrative and only half aware of it. Besides his scientific endeavors, xe enjoys practical jokes, skateboarding, and the company of whatever family he has left.

Also he does like cupcakes <3

Relevant Links: https://toyhou.se/9067965.suspicious-stew

14. Edgar Gahds (He/Him) @kursed-curtain

Edgar Gahds is a 19 year old forensics scientist (and absolute sweetheart, but don't tell him I said that)

CW: Blood n death n organs, etc in his description. He is a mad scientist after all!

- He's a huge fan of gothic horror novels like Frankenstein and The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and he essentially bases his entire career on them!

- He has a fascination with how humans work. That's why he took up forensics! It means you can look at corpses without getting in trouble!

- He's so excited about blood and organs! He has models he plays with during court cases sometimes. He doesn't think of it as playing though. It's expressing himself!

- Edgar's experiments mostly consist of murder victims because wow there are a lot in this universe. A lot.

- He loves animals and dislikes animal testing :(( he's not against human testing tho lmao go ham

- He loves horror movies and the makeup and special effects that go into them!

(He's my Ace Attorney OC but I didn't wanna deter any potential voters!! ;) he's simply a silly guy!)

(Also Edgar loves a good red velvet cupcake haha)

Relevant Links: https://www.tumblr.com/kursed-curtain/712085998004305920/ledger-de-maine https://www.tumblr.com/kursed-curtain/tagged/%40edgar%20gahds

(Image credits: @hilaomart and @kursed-curtain, respectively)

[xxxsoukokuxxx]

BSD Poe x short(4”11) female reader

Soulmate au

Fluff oneshot

Reader has the ability to turn into a black cat.

Black Cat in the Rue Morgue

Soulmate AU

Character: Poe x short fem!reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Thanks for requesting and for your patience. I haven't written a soulmate AU before so I actually did some research on it and hopefully it pays off. I hope that this is what you wanted and have a pleasant day/night!

The sun was now setting and dipped itself into Yokohama's waters letting it's light drip onto the water's surface. Book in hand, raccoon on his shoulders with a pen in the other hand Poe is lost in his thoughts. The outside world doesn't exist. There is nothing but the various ideas for his novel running through his head and softness of fur against the back of his neck and head.

He jots down a few things that he could elaborate on later. The room is dyed in the color of honey and wine as the fading warmth of the sunset creates a sense of comfort. The side of his face illuminated by the gentle golden color.

Karl suddenly jumps off his shoulders and Poe's startled. His eyes wide, 'How long has it been?' he takes in his surroundings and realizes it's already sunset and soon night will fall upon Yokohama.

Poe gets up, closes his book and stretches with a sickening cracking sound erupting from his back, indeed how long has it been? He looks down to where Karl is sitting on the floor and he reaches to ruffle the fur on his head before leaving the room.

He makes a cup of tea for himself once he's in the kitchen and stares out the window. The sleeve of his shirt slides up a bit as Poe tilts his cup to take a sip, a small scarlet mark of a feline like figure on the underside of his wrist becomes visible. It's always been there but he brushed it off, that was until he came across various articles, theories and fiction books about "soulmates". And he can't help but wonder 'Is there really someone out there who'd love me? Do I have a soulmate? Or is it just a meaningless mark?'

Sometimes he'd think it's preposterous while other times he'd genuinely love that idea. But he always blushes straight after, to imagine spending such intimate moments with someone, to hold their hand, to hold them, to share a meaningful smile...it's really a beautiful thought.

Poe sets his cup down on the counter before adjusting his coat and making his way to the front door of the spacious house and opens it. He peeks through the gap between the door frame and from where he's opened making sure there are no people out at the moment and he sighs a breath of relief. Stepping out into the quiet evening he takes a walk along a specific quiet and peaceful street he likes. Evening and night are the only times he'll ever make it outside the comfort of his home without having an anxiety attack.

As he walks down the pavement a rustling noise can be heard in an alleyway which he is just about to pass. He freezes and the hair on the back of his neck stands up. From the corner of his eye he sees a dark shadow on the floor approaching which makes him panic, "P-Please don't attack me or anything, I really don't have any valuables that you'd wa-" he cut off his sentence as he felt something rub against the bottom of his leg.

Immediately he drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands, "Okay, okay I'll surrender!" he yelps. "..." Nothing. He dares to turn his head towards his left and relief washes over him, a panic stricken face now softens, "Oh, silly me. Always panicking for no good reason." He now looks at a black cat which has it's head tilted to the side out of confusion.

It was the norm for you to roam around the city at night either because you couldn't sleep or you just liked the atmosphere. If someone happened to be walking by and you felt a curious sense of playfulness then you'd just go up and show them some cat-like affection. However, out of all the times you had done so this had never happened. "How cute." he muttered, snapping you out of your thoughts. He reached out to pet the spot atop your head.

'No wonder why cats like this.' was your thought. "I don't see any collar or anything signifying you belong to someone." he said aloud placing his forefinger on his chin. "I can't just leave you here alone, hmm and Karl would have a playmate if I took you back with me...oh but do raccoons and cats get along? They could possibly..." as he rambled on you wondered if this was a good time as any to scram or reveal that you're actually a human who has the ability to turn into a cat, specifically a black one.

You slowly backed away and he noticed. "Oh no don't be scared!" he reaches his hands out to you. Ah, he seemed like such a nice person, a gentle person. You couldn't just leave like that, now could you? A ribbon of grey spun around you with various kanji on it. A bright light flashed and Poe freezes with his hands which wanted to reach out to you. His eyes widen once he sees the sight in front of him and questions everything he knows. His mouth agape.

"Hi." you said shyly whilst dusting your attire. "...you..." he still kneeled on the ground, frozen. You felt nervous but thought that after what he just witnessed it'd be necessary to tell him about yourself. "Uhm, okay I know you think this is weird but there's this thing called abilities and my ability is to turn into a black cat..." you sped through your words while fiddling with your thumbs.

Now he understands. Of course he knows what abilities are. "Oh. Ah, don't worry I know what abilities are. I have one myself." he says standing up, now realizing just how short you are. You look up, "Wait, you do as well?" a certain spark of curiosity in your eyes, I guess having a cat ability allows you to have the same characteristics of a cat. His cheeks have a faint red color on them, you look cute when you're curious.

"Y-Yes, it's called Black Cat in the Rue Morgue." "What a coincidence." you giggle. He rubs the back of his neck and sighs contently, "Yes it is. It allows me to transport my readers into my books." "Oh, you're a writer!?" another spark of curiosity in your eyes. He internally smiled at your apparent excitement, "Yes I am. Ah! Excuse my rudeness, my name is Edgar Allan Poe but you can just call me Poe if you'd like."

A smile adorned your face and you introduced yourself too. "I'm sorry about startling you earlier, I promise you I'm no cat burglar." He blinks and after a moment you both laugh at the little pun made and the situation itself. "I don't think such an innocent looking being could ever do such a thing." he blushes as he says those words and you do too.

He takes a look at his surroundings and back at you. "W-Would you...like to uh join me for a stroll? I was planning on going t-to this cafe that's opened til late?" You look up and smile while silently thinking his stuttering is rather cute. "Sure." The walk there was peaceful and enjoyable, every three seconds he would glance at you and a lingering question would be on his mind but he brushes it off. He tries to get to know you despite his nervousness and he succeeds. Even if it's just the little things such as your favorite color, where you live, if you have any pets.

You both finally reached the cafe and took a seat, he was gentleman about pulling your seat out for you and such. The only part he dreaded was ordering, that anxiousness that would bubble up in his chest made his mouth go dry and he's at a loss for words. The barista comes about and asks if you'd both like to order anything, a simple coffee/latte was fine for you. Poe looked pale and tugged on the front of his shirt. You worried if he was okay but he eventually ordered something to drink off the menu and a sigh of relief escaped him once he was done talking.

"You okay?" His eyes widens as he finally looks up at you again, "Yes. Yeah I'm fine, no need to worry. I just..." he looks down again while rubbing the back of his neck, his hair falling over his eyes. "I'm just really shy if you could say that. Or perhaps i just have social anxiety." he let out a nervous chuckle while lifting his head to smile at you. A giggle escapes you, "I think it's cute." He's taken aback but only because he's not used to being complimented and his face turns red.

The orders are served and the barista bows and leaves again. A light-hearted conversation flitters between you two and Karl comes up somewhere in the conversation, Poe saying that he'd love to let you see him. You tilt your cup to take a sip of your drink and the sleeve of your shirt rides up a bit, revealing a portion of your wrist. Poe is taking a sip too and his eyes flutter over your figure.

His eyes widen once he catches sight of the scarlet mark on your wrist and he chokes. "A-Are you okay?" you put your cup down and panic slightly. "Y-Yes I'm fine." he replies adjusting himself.

"Can I ask you something?" curiosity now lacing his voice. "Sure, go ahead."

"Have you always had that red feline-like mark on your wrist?" You look at the mark and reply that it's always been there, indeed. "I think it's because of my ability but I'm not really sure. Perhaps it's a birthmark." He smiles. "Perhaps it is." Is this what he thinks it is? No...he couldn't possibly just jump to conclusions, but certainly what a coincidence it was. The exact same mark on both your wrists and a meeting like this? A beautiful coincidence it was.

"Why do you ask?" you tilt your head to the side much as you did when you were a cat. And if he didn't think you were any cuter now he'd be damned. "Oh no, just asking." he gives a closed eyes smile.

'Soulmates. How fascinating.' he thinks while smiling at you as you take another sip of your coffee/latte. His eyes wander again to the scarlet mark on your wrist.

And the plot thickens.

[ikeromantic]

Hi hi! I just read some R18 manga 😏 and thought about this...what if army bois dealing with a plus size MC with big boobs? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 they sometimes get distracted when they saw it jiggling when probably jumping to reach the top shelf or smth 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 or even when she's just breathing their eyes be like 👀 then gets back to work, but still stealing a glance at her Lololol

Thank you if you will write for it and if not, still thank you because your works Are really my stress reliever 💕💕 take care Always! 😘

So this is pretty far outside my usual scope, but then I thought wth. This goes out to all my big-breasted girls who know the pain of large tatas. A little silly, a little spicy, basically every anime fanservice trope I could think of . . . and I hope it’s a lot of fun. Approx. 4K words.

Lancelot Kingsley

His expression shifts as you enter the room, icy composure cracking to show a small smile. Blue eyes flick from your face to the tray you carry. “I told you I would be busy all afternoon,” he scolds.

“I know.” You smile across the tray at him. “That’s why I brought you tea.” You lean over to set it on his desk and pour him a cup from the teapot.

Lancelot’s eyes go wide as they slide down to your cleavage, tracing the heaviness of your breasts as they strain against the thin fabric. He can’t help but lick his lips, anticipating the evening when he’ll have you all to himself. His fingers twitch, but he keeps his hand on the desk.

You catch him staring as you straighten and can’t help the heat that creeps into your cheeks. You thought the neckline on this shirt was high and proper but his eyes tell you it’s not. “I . . . I should go.”

“Not yet, I think.” He gestures you over and pulls you into a hug. He makes a small, happy sound as he squeezes you tight. He holds you for a long, tender moment, and then kisses your forehead. “You have no idea how hard it is to let you go when you wander in like this . . . you must like testing my will, Alice.”

“No! I mean, I just wanted to-”

He chuckles. “I know. You don’t do it on purpose.” He gives you one more meaningful squeeze and then reluctantly lets go. “You best run along while you can. If I reach for you again, neither of us are leaving the study for awhile.”

You nod and hurry out, though part of you wouldn’t mind providing him with a longer distraction . . .

Jonah Clemence

You notice a macaron about to fall from the tower in Jonah’s room. Quickly, you reach for it, snagging the cookie before it falls. Then you take a bite. After all, you can’t put the macaron back after touching it!

“Did you come to my room to steal my sweets?” Jonah’s crisp voice surprises you, and you turn quickly, hiding the bitten macaron behind you.

“N-no! I was looking for you and I noticed . . . ummm . . .” You realize you can’t admit you caught the cookie without also admitting to eating it.

Jonah walks closer. “What? What did you notice?” His eyes flit across the room and back on you, scanning you head to toe. He pauses at your chest. “You’ve got something on you, Alice.”

You look down, but all you can see is your breasts, toes poking out further down. You tug at your shirt, trying to see if you got a bit of macaron cream or crumbs or something there.

“No, not there,” he says, sounding exasperated. “I honestly don’t know how you made it this far in life without me to watch out for you. You are such a mess!” He rubs his thumb on a spot just below the rise of your cleavage.

You can’t help the sudden gasp at his fingers on your breast, or the blush that heats your cheeks.

Jonah’s eyes go wide as he realizes where his hand is and he snatches it back as if scalded. “Ah . . . you . . . that is . . . you have a-a spot.”

“I’ll go check in the mirror,” you manage, and scurry out, leaving Jonah staring at the spot you were just in.

Edgar Bright

You are helping Edgar clean around his room. He keeps up a lively chatter as the two of you dust and straighten, but his chatting is obviously distracting him. He keeps dropping things and you keep having to pick them up.

“Wait,” you interrupt, bending to pick up another pencil. “You knocked this off the desk.”

“Did I? Oops!” Edgar smiles and takes it from your hand. “Oh, but look there. It seems I knocked a candy on the floor too. Could you?”

You sigh and turn to get that too. As you do, you feel his eyes on you and suddenly you wonder if this was an accident after all. You hand him the candy with a suspicious frown.

“Oh, Alice, what is that look for?” Edgar taps your cheek.

“I’m just wondering how someone so normally graceful goes all clumsy today,” you reply, fixing him with an annoyed stare.

Edgar chuckles. “I don’t know what you mean! Anyway, I’m going to file these papers. Can you grab that book over there? The one above the shelf?”

You don’t entirely trust that grinning face but maybe you’re being too sensitive. You turn to look at the shelf and realize how tall it is. “Do you have a stool I can use? I’m not that tall.”

“Oh, no I don’t. Maybe if you give a little hop?” Edgar glances up at you from his filing. “I’m sure a capable girl like you can manage, right?”

You sigh and stand on tiptoes. Your fingers brush the edge but you can’t quite grab it. Hopping is not in your repertoire, but no one is looking so . . . you make a little jump. Another. The third time you manage to snag the book and glance toward Edgar triumphantly.

His mouth is open and his eyes shine. His cheeks are bright red as he swallows. “Ah, umm, yes. Th-thank you Alice. Perfect.” You hear him mumble under his breath, something about distractions and delicious.

Zero

Zero has agreed to help you with your training. A bit of practice with self defense never hurt anyone, and since he’s one of the best captains, it seems like a perfect idea.

You meet him on the training grounds.

He tells you to warm up first. “Some jumping jacks and stretches, then we can get started.” Zero gives you a sweet, innocent smile and takes position across from you.

“Sounds good,” you nod. You never liked jumping anything. It makes your breasts ache and stretches out your bras, but just a few for a warmup aren’t bad.

Zero begins with arm stretches, reaching up and right and left, then calls out, “Jacks on the count of . . 1!” He does the first jumping jack and you follow. “T-two, two, two, two . . .”

You realize that jump three, four, and five have all been two and you’re pretty sure it’s at least six or seven now. “Zero?”

His smile is wide and his eyes track up and down like a cat with a toy until your voice cuts through to him. “Oh! I . . . I guess I forgot to count.” He looks away, his face turning red all the way to the tips of his ears. “M-maybe someone else could . . .”

“No, I trust you,” you tell him. “Edgar would just laugh at me.”

“That’s true,” Kyle agrees. “So, I guess that’s enough jumping.” He clears his throat. “Let’s work on self defense.” He shows you what to do if someone grabs you from behind, moving slowly through it. The two of you repeat the sequence several times, with his hands reaching around you and you pretending to headbutt him, stomp his foot, and elbow him in the gut.

“Is that good,” you ask.

He clears his throat, not looking at you. “It’s really good. Perfect.” He takes a deep breath. “Let’s try one more time, but at normal speed. I won’t go easy on you, so don’t go easy on me, ok?”

“Ok,” you agree, nervously. “I don’t want to hurt you though.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry. I’ve had a lot worse in training. You won’t hurt me.” Zero takes position behind you and before you can ask if he’s ready to start, he grabs you around the middle.

You throw your head back and stomp your foot just like he taught you, but stop yourself from elbowing him as you hear a crunch. “Is that your nose,” you start to ask, turning.

Your legs get tangled with his as you try to turn around and you both fall. You land on him.

Zero looks up at you dazed, his nose red and leaking blood. “It’s . . . it’s ok,” he says, but he doesn’t move. Not even to wipe his face.

“Are you sure?” You lean closer. “I didn’t break it, did I?”

“N-no . . . oh . . .” He clamps his mouth closed.

You suddenly realize . . . you are laying on him. Probably squishing him and he’s even brighter red and holding his breath and something presses your leg. You jump up, embarrassed. “I’m so-so sorry! I didn’t mean to - I’m too heavy to-”

Zero looks to the side. “I didn’t mind. At all. You can lay on me anytime.” He blinks. “I mean . . . when we practice. Or . . .”

You blush, “I . . . I should go. Thanks for the lesson, Zero.” A warm feeling fills you as you escape to your room.

Kyle Ash

Kyle is drunk. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes have that special shine to them from too much alcohol and not enough sleep. “Let’s have another round,” he shouts.

“I don’t think so,” you sigh. “Let’s get you home before you pass out.”

“Spoilsport.” Kyle grumbles as you help him up. He leans on you heavily as you wobble out the door.

You hope the cool night air wakes him up a little on the way home, or it's going to be a really long walk. Kyle isn’t the biggest guy, but he’s still heavy and the arm he has slung over your shoulder keeps slipping down. His head bumps your shoulder before resting on it, his hand nearly to your waist now.

“Kyle. Wake up. We need to get home.” You pat his cheek, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “Come on! I can’t carry you.” You shake him but it doesn’t help at all. Frustrated, you push away from Kyle, leaving him leaning on nothing but air, your hand outstretched in case he really does fall.

With a shout, he stumbles, his eyes flying open just as he lands face first in your cleavage. You make a strangled cry of embarrassment and try to push him away again. For a moment, you’re both slapping at each other, him trying to catch his balance, and you trying to put space between you.

Then he rights himself, blinking like an owl. His cheeks are flushed and he won’t meet your eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Yeah. You should be.” You frown at him. “It’s fine. Are you sober enough to walk on your own?”

Kyle makes the saddest puppy dog eyes at you as he nods. “I can . . .”

You sigh. “Fine. Come here.” Then let him lean on you again. He keeps his hands to himself this time - and his face as well - but you can’t help but notice how his cheeks heat at every accidental brush of your chest against his, or the where his eyes land when he should be watching his step. Hopefully he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

Ray Blackwell

Ray was doing his best not to notice how cute you are. Dressed in a navy blue sundress with your hair up in a cute bun, he couldn’t help but watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You were a little disappointed that he didn’t compliment you but you weren’t going to let it get you down. This was your first shopping trip in weeks and you couldn’t wait to try on some of Cradle’s new summer fashions.

The two of you stopped at your favorite shop and Ray stood off to the side with a little huff. “I hope we won’t be here too long.”

“Just long enough.” You grinned and poked his arm. “When we’re done, I’ll get you a lemon cake.”

“I don’t need to be bribed like a child,” he frowned, but his eyes were bright and you knew he was teasing.

Each time you stepped out of the dressing room in something new, Ray would shrug or give you a thumbs up. You were beginning to wish you’d gone with Seth instead. He’d let you know if you looked pretty, but Ray was too cool for that.

The last outfit you picked to try out was a little fancier than the others. An A-line princess style dress with a low, square neckline with an asymmetrical hem, all in a thin silk that you were almost afraid to wear. It would hug your curves - the ones you liked and the ones you didn’t. Still, it was pretty and you wanted to see how it looked before you called it quits.

The fabric felt like heaven on your bare skin. Soft as sin, and it flattered your shape, though it was a little lower cut than anything in your closet. You stepped out of the dressing room and gave a little spin.

Ray said nothing.

At first, you were a little hurt, but then you got a look at his face. He was staring . . . down. Eyes like saucers, mouth hanging open. His cheeks were bright red.

“Ray? How do I look? Hello? Ray!” You snapped your fingers and his head jerked up.

“Hm? What?” He wiped at his mouth and looked away, turning even more red.

“The dress. Does it look alright?” You leaned forward to poke him.

He turned his head to look at you again and cleared his throat. “Y-yeah. It’s uh . . . it’s good.”

You giggled. It wasn’t often Ray lost his composure. “Does it? What do you like about it?”

He lightly touched a sleeve. “It’s . . . soft.” His eyes landed on you again, slowly going over you from top to bottom, then resting at chest level. “Y-you should get it. I’ll get it for you.”

You smiled. “Alright. But if we get it, you’ll have to give me an excuse to wear it!” Laughing, you retreated to the dressing room.

Sirius Oswald

You knelt on a small cushion next to the flowerbed. Pulling weeds wasn’t your favorite thing, but there was a certain satisfaction in getting it done. You were only there a few minutes before Sirius knelt beside you.

“Good morning, little lady.” He smiled over at you and your heart melted just a little at the warm, affectionate expression.

“Morning.” You dropped a bit of sedge into your basket. “I thought you had work today?”

“Nothing I can’t do later. Unless you don’t want company?”

You felt your heart beat faster at the playful, raised eyebrow and teasing tone. “N-no, it’s fine. I appreciate the help.”

“Good. I’d hate to think you didn’t want me around.” He nudged your arm with his shoulder and then got back to work, pulling his first weed. Sirius reached past you to drop it in the basket, bumping his hand and arm against your chest.

You pulled back in surprise, cheeks heating.

“Sorry about that!” He gave an embarrassed chuckle. But the next time he went to drop another weed in the basket, it happened again. And again.

You picked up the basket and set it between you. That would make it easier, after all, it wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose. Your boobs were just . . . out there and in the way.

“This spot is done,” he announced a few minutes later, and moved to the other side of you. Then it happened again. And again. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m clumsy today,” he gave a rueful laugh.

You moved the basket to his side with a huff. This kind of casual contact was not good for your heart. “It’s fine. They get in my way all the time. So why not yours?”

“What?” Sirius looked at you, his eyebrow raised again, a little smile lifting the corners of his lips.

“Ah haha, nothing. Just, this way, I’m not in your way,” you clarified.

“You’re never in my way, Alice.” His tone was like a caress, and there was a heat in his gaze you didn’t normally see.

Flustered, you stood up and pulled off your gloves. “I - I guess this row is good for today. So uh, we did it,” you finished lamely.

Sirius stood smoothly beside you. “We did.” He took off his gloves and dropped them in the basket beside yours. Then he took your hands in his. “Mmm, your skin is a little irritated. Let’s get these washed and I’ll put some lotion on them.”

And just like that, he was back to watching out for you like a big brother. You wondered if you’d imagined the look in his eyes and his tone and the almost-on-purpose accidental touches.

Luka Clemence

Luka was working on raspberry creme filling for the pastry shell you were rolling out at the table. When the two of you baked together, it was like magic. First the recipe, and then the comments and shared looks.

“It might be better if we . . .”

“Let’s try this instead . . .”

“What if we added . . .”

And what came out was divine. Sometimes you didn’t even have to say anything. He’d look at you and nod and then put in another dash of vanilla or dig out a new spice. Today’s dessert was one of those, refined between the two of you to a sweet perfection.

You finished shaping the pastries and prepped them for the creme. “Ready when you are,” you called.

“Perfect timing.” Luka set the whisk aside and lifted the bowl.

“I’ll grab a spatula,” you said, jumping up to get one. That would make it easier to spread and go more gently on the delicate dough than a spoon.

Luka wasn’t expecting you to hop up right then, and you weren’t paying attention to where he walked. The two of you collided, and the bowl of creme spilled over your apron.

“Oh! Oh my,” you gasped as it soaked through the fabric and dripped down your chest. You pulled off the apron as Luka set down the bowl and grabbed a towel.

“Sorry!” He tripped over himself to bring you the towel. He began dabbing at the sticky mess, smearing it over your skin.

“It’s ok,” you told him, wondering if your poor shirt would ever be the same.

He tugged down the neckline, trying to stop the flow. “It’s just . . . it’s getting everywhere.”

Luka was right. You could feel it seep into your bra and - and his hands! Luka was going after the creme, trying to scoop it out of the cleft between your breasts. Your mind went blank for a moment, right about the time he realized what he was doing.

“Oh. No.” He froze, cheeks lighting up like little cherry dumplings.

Your shirt hung open where he’d pulled it out of the way. The lace edges of your bra were stained pink with creme. His hand rested on one, sticky rise of your breast, the towel hung from his other hand.

Luka just stared. It wasn’t a look of shock. More like awe and wonder. As if he hadn’t expected to find boobs under the apron.

You cleared your throat. “Uh, I should - I should go wash this off. And soak my shirt. And bra.”

He pulled his hand back as if you stung him. “Y-yeah. I - I’ll just . . . make another batch.” Luka tore his eyes away from you reluctantly.

You pulled your shirt closed and hurried out of the kitchen, feeling a mix of embarrassment and a flush of pleasure.

Fenrir Godspeed

Fenrir was training you in blocking magic attacks. He used a magic bullet that would make you laugh for ten whole minutes if you didn’t block it. The two of you stood across from each other on the training ground.

“Ready, partner?” He took aim.

“Anytime!” You rolled your shoulders, trying to focus. The shot rang out and you raised your hands, feeling the bullet collide with the rational shield. It felt so strange, like a tug in your chest. “Is that all you’ve got,” you teased.

Four more shots rang out in quick succession and you scrambled to block them all. Moving wasn’t necessary for shielding, but it helped you think the anti-magic field into place. So you leapt left and raised your arm up and in the end it probably looked like the funniest dance.

You expected to look up to see Fenrir laughing, but his lips were parted and his eyes were wide.

“What is it,” you asked, taking a step toward him.

“Nothin’! Come on, next round,” he shouted, his grin back.

You didn’t miss the pink in his cheeks, but maybe he was just impressed with your blocking.

The next round of shots was even wilder and you were going right, then left, a hop, and crouch. Breathing hard by the last bullet, but all of them stopped short. “How was that?”

Fenrir took a moment to answer, wiping at his mouth. His cheeks were red now and there was some mischief in his eyes. “That was really good. Let’s go again.”

You felt like this time he was really trying to surprise you. Shots came high and low and from every direction. You were jumping and spinning and reaching.

He was watching you too, his eyes wide and his smile . . . hungry. The look on his face surprised you. So much in fact that the next shot got you right in the leg.

“Ah hahaha oh - oh no,” you laughed.

Fenrir holstered his pistol and walked over. He put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you in for a giggling hug. But he stopped half into the gesture. “Ah, you - you were doing so good, partner. Sorry about that last shot.”

You tried to answer through the laughter, breathless with exertion and the giggling fit. “I, ahaha, got - distracted!”

“Me too,” he smirked, eyes falling to your chest, which shook with your laughter. “Still feeling . . . pretty distracted. We should get back to my room. Get . . . undistracted.”

That wasn’t how it worked, you thought, but mmmm, what a perfect finish to a training session.

Seth Hyde

Seth came to help you with your hair. Today one of the soldiers was getting married and you all were going to celebrate. You wanted to look extra nice for the event, and Seth offered to help.

He came a little earlier than you expected, and you were just in your panties and a nightrobe, but it was just Seth, so you let him in. “Sorry I’m not dressed yet.”

“It’s fine! We can do your hair and make-up, then I’ll help you slip into that dress so we don’t mess up our work.” He laughed and tucked a bit of hair behind your ear.

That touch from anyone else would be flirtatious, but you didn’t think Seth saw you that way. Which was too bad. You liked him, but there was never a good time to confess. And you didn’t want to ruin your friendship anyway.

Seth got to work on your hair, sitting you down between his legs at the edge of the bed. He chattered amiably about Black Army gossip. You barely heard him. His fingers felt so good in your hair and on your neck. “Alright. Stand up and let me get a look.”

You stood up, reaching a hand toward your hair but stopped at a warning hiss from Seth. You turned around and held your arms out as if to say ‘ta-da’.

The look on his face was not what you expected. A teasing smile, maybe? Or a narrow-eyed critique - sure. But wide eyes and a slight blush? Then you looked down at yourself and saw why. Your gown was a little tight across the chest and it had come open, showing off the light pink bra you wore.

You pulled it shut, mumbling embarrassed apologies.

Seth laughed softly and stood. He was so close that your nose almost brushed his jacket. “You know sis, despite my fashion sense and skills, I’m still a man. You should be more careful what you let me see.”

[sunnyoldbear]

Luca Headcanons Part 2

DoesLast one blew up and I was gonna wait to make another before making this one but then my Italian fish obsessed brain couldn’t stop thinking and I literally couldn’t stop myself so let’s go, part 2!

Luca:

Has nightmares of what would happen if things went differently: If he was sent to The Deep, if he and Alberto were outed as sea-monsters before the race, if Ercole, Cicco, and Guido didn’t miss Alberto when throwing the harpoons at the beach, if Alberto didn’t come with the umbrella during the race and he was outed in front of the town and hit with Ercole’s harpoon, etc. He always wakes up terrified. 

Apologizes to inanimate objects if he bumps into them or drops them.

Names everything he comes in contact with. Random animals such as birds, insects (even though he’s terrified), erasers he uses often, etc. They’re always random, silly names, but he loves them. 

Is a slow reader because of how he fantasizes himself in the books and daydreams, then is snapped back to reality.

Keeps a dream journal!

Loves making stories about the stars and constellations. He loves the original stories, but he loves to make up his own.

Honestly I just get the vibe that he’s scared of birds after the encounter with the seagull.

His favorite color is purple followed by green!

Giulia’s mom buys him his own bike and he loses his mind, loving it so much

He’s a bit awkward with making friends at school, sticking to Giulia’s side most of the time

He doesn’t really care for music

He can fall asleep anywhere, honestly. He once fell asleep leaning against the doorway and then crashed onto the floor

Alberto loves to doodle on his arms and hands and Luca doesn’t really care to wash them off so they just kinda chill there. 

He’s very easy to prank and scare

Oh you should see him around the holidays! He’s so excited! His eyes sparkle and shine, he absolutely loves the decorations!

He’s not competitive, actually. He just wanted the prize money to get the Vespa, but he doesn’t really care about winning. He just... Isn’t competitive

He is very protective over his friends. Do what you want to him, but lay a hand on someone he loves and he will tear you a new one. We see him in the movie just frown when Ercole makes fun of him, but when Ercole shoved Alberto, all bets were off.

Charts the stars

He doesn’t have one love language, he has all of them, but probably Physical Touch and Quality Time more than anything, or Acts of Service.

Drinks expresso more often than he probably should, but just to get through his schoolwork

Misses his goatfish more than he wants to admit, especially little Giuseppe

Allergies beat him up during the spring

Slowly gets used to cats with Machiavelli’s kittens, but he’s still scared of the chunky boy

A teacher at school made the mistake of introducing him to Shakespeare. He spent hours sobbing over a good chunk of the plays.

Because he liked Shakespeare, Giulia’s mom got him some poetry books. He was not a fan of Edgar Allan Poe or Agatha Christie or Mary Shelley, all the horror/murder type stuff. He loved Emily Dickinson though!

Is as terrified of losing Alberto as Alberto is terrified of losing him

While he isn’t as touchy with Giulia as he is with Alberto, he does get more touchy with her

Reads tons of books about cats, dogs, and turtles to give Machiavelli, Nerone, and Caligola the care they need

Hears about human farms and loses his mind, rapidly asking questions about how they work and if they’re similar to his own

Giulia tries to convince him that fairytales are real. He has nightmares about them for a few nights until Massimo has to tell him that fairytales are made up and her mom changes them slightly to be more... Non-scary. She starts telling them to him to bed just because she misses doing so, and then he can’t fall asleep without someone telling him a story.

Doesn’t do the handshake with anyone that isn’t Alberto or Giulia.

Giulia’s mom calls him “fishy” or “guppy” and he wants to hate it but he can’t

Hates it when people call him cute or baby him, but his family + Alberto + Marcovaldos still do it

Once heard some French Tourists and stared at Giulia and went “why is their Italian so weird sounding” and she lost her shit laughing

Doesn’t swear, refuses to swear

Tries to use Vespa stamps if they’re available

Once he learns what “Piacere, gioralamo trombetta” means, he sends a letter to Alberto which is just him freaking out and laughing while making fun of it. They don’t stop saying it. In fact, they probably say it more.

He has a map in his room with pushpins of where he’s been. Beside it are a bunch of sticky notes of where he wants to go with Alberto with reasons on why he wants to go.

Has a little bit more courage, but not too much

He’s often teased for calling others “sir” or “ma’am” and so he feels really shy about it but doesn’t stop

Refuses to call Massimo and Giulia’s mom by their names, it just feels too awkward for him

Makes friendship bracelets for the trio as well as separate ones for him and Alberto, then him and Giulia.

While he loves gelato, he doesn’t like it as much as Alberto

I feel like he’d dot the i’s in Giulia’s name with hearts but no one else’s

People at school think he has a crush on her but he doesn’t

He and Alberto still say they sleep under the anchovies. No matter how often he researches stars, he’ll always call them anchovies around him.

Sticks out his tongue when focused

Doesn’t like aquariums, he stares at those fish and he just feels trapped

Loves to dance in the rain

Does that little feet tappy dance thing when he’s excited or shakes his hands

Honestly half of his vocabulary is stern shouts of “Alberto!” “Giulia!” or “silenzio Bruno, silenzio Bruno! Silenzio Bruno!”

Speaking of, he can’t just say “Silenzio Bruno” once, it’s always him saying it more than once, especially when he’s really scared

He doesn’t have loud, aggressive sneezes, but he does have sneeze fits. Once he sneezed so many times that with every one his face got closer to his desk until it just went BAM and he has a massive bruise on his forehead for days. 

Sometimes just goes into the water and swims to relax. If he’s feeling homesick, he’ll do some daring trick and then instinctively turn to smile at Alberto only to realize he isn’t there

His dad still keeps crabs but lets Luca name them. Luca chooses to name them all after space things. Mainly moons, but sometimes planets or galaxies

Secretly feels really guilty about Alberto selling their Vespa

After almost being sent to The Deep, he is terrified of the dark and can’t sleep without a light on, no matter how dim it is

Alberto:

Matching pajamas with both Massimo and Giulia! (Refuses to match with her, Massimo yelled at them)

Tries to see what triggers his transformation. Does watermelon? Does juice? Is it any liquid? He’ll find out!

Calls Giulia “Spewlia” just to piss her off

Those two are always arguing. Yes, he often starts it

Lots of tattoos and ear piercings!

Will into Giulia’s room, stare her dead in the eyes, call her a bitch, and run out while leaving the door open. She’ll scream at him and probably throw something. 

Tends to shorten people’s names. He calls Luca “Lu,” “Lulu,” and even “Luke.” Luca does not like any of these names.

Still builds his Vespas! They’re not as fun without Luca, though

Takes Giulia with him sometimes too and purposely crashes into the sea or something just to see what she does. 

Gains quite a bit of muscle 

Is the one who takes down all the sea monster things with Massimo. He and Lorenzo carry Smuca to the fountain

Idk I feel like he has loud sneezes

I also feel like he makes that weird cough face like that one cat idk I just know I’m right

He doesn’t just sing... He scream sings

Doesn’t know how to dance but if there is music he will dance

Loves dancing in the rain too!

Sometimes he’ll just walk into Giulia’s room and gossip with her. They’ll make a blanket fort and grab some snacks and cats and just... Spend the night talking and catching up

She teaches him how to braid hair and now he just loves doing her hair

Bites his lip quite a bit. That’s canon but like, still worth mentioning

Learns how to ride a bike so he doesn’t get killed or something

Keeps a journal on things Luca and Giulia are interested in so he can learn about them. He writes down bullet points on what he remembers from conversations, but it’s honestly not much

He doesn’t have big dreams other than traveling the world with Luca. He knows Giulia wants to be a marine biologist and Luca wants to travel the world + is still figuring things out. He has short term goals other than that and changes the topic about it.

A popular headcanon is that Alberto takes care of the goatfish when Luca’s at school and I think that would happen!

He’s shockingly good with kids! When not working, he loves playing soccer with them by the fountain

He almost named Machiavelli’s mate “Frog” because he can’t name things

Half the time when Giulia and/or Luca talk about school, he goes “I don’t what that means, but I’m choosing to define it as ____” and won’t let them prove him wrong

Technically canon but he will bite. Chomp chomp.

When he meets Giulia’s mom, they love to paint together

He does make some friends in Portorosso, but none are as close to him as his sister and best friend!

This man is the most dramatic person good lord

Love language is definitely physical touch!

Still screams “Take me, gravity!” pretty often

Can’t do work alone without music. He doesn’t really like opera but he can’t stand silence, he just can’t

Sometimes he thinks of Luca’s betrayal and is really angry, but knows he’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed. It was about self preservation and the risk of living. He still gets upset about it sometimes, but completely forgives him and understands

Is always torn between giving Giulia genuine facts about sea creatures and giving her such absurd but lowkey believable lies. He wants her to succeed so badly but also wants to screw her over

If you give him anything, he will play with it. String? A toy. A pen? A toy. A literal rock you found on the side of the road? A gorgeous toy, thank you!

Never just goes into the water, he will always be dramatic and dive in or jump

Sometimes when not on duty, he just blows his lifeguard whistle because he thinks it’s cool

He loves yoyos!

Will noogie Giulia.

Sometimes gets scared that Massimo will abandon him, but it seems like Massimo always knows

Città Vuota is his favorite song!

Doodles all over everything, especially Giulia and Luca’s arms and legs. They range from little stars to tic tac toe games to fish to anything that comes to mind

Giulia:

Is very much into photography! Luca always does hearts with his hands/fingers while Alberto does stupid poses or flips her off... or both.

Hums and sings a lot! 

Also loves to dance and is the best of the trio! Loves to twirl and vibe even if there’s no music! It’s just her personality

She doesn’t just hug, she jumps into their arms and holds them close

Sometimes just to annoy Alberto she’ll hug him and press kisses to his head and cheeks. Siblings gonna be annoying.

Always has so much energy but really struggles with sitting still for homework after such long hours in school that her grades aren’t all that good except for Astronomy!

The most competitive of the trio

Bites her lip when she’s nervous

Started wearing her hat to match her dad when she was little and now she doesn’t like being without it

Has probably fallen asleep in class

Loves watermelon and gelato

While Ciccio and Guido apologize for their actions, she doesn’t forgive them and doesn’t want to. She has every right to

Gets really into singing when she’s singing along to songs

Doesn’t like makeup for herself but will hold the boys captive to do their makeup

Loves puns! Will make sea puns to piss off Alberto and Luca, but Luca loves them so it half-works

Loves copying Alberto’s lipbite

Machiavelli her beloved <3 

Loves her fam so much! She’s got pictures of them everywhere and is constantly buying them gifts

Speaking of! Her love language is giving gifts! 

She’s actually pretty good at making friends since she can read people so well. It’s just that Portorosso doesn’t have any.... Great kids to befriend and Genova just has too many that she sticks to a small group which eventually fades, as groups do

She isn’t the most emotional but she also isn’t the least emotional. She doesn’t cry often but she does get sad and shows it

I don’t know why I feel this way but I definitely think she’s scared of the doctor

She used to be scared of thunderstorms until meeting her boys and the race happened. Now she associates rain and storms with that win

Summer is her favorite season

She knows everyone in Portorosso by name and knows most of their birthdays by heart

Speaking of, she always celebrates Alberto’s birthday like her like her life depends on it

Now loves racing on her bike even more cause of the race

Calls Alberto “Berto” and is the only one allowed to do say

A very light sleeper

---

More on the way probably they’re all I think about

[spacedikut]

Okay but what do u think Spencer would actually be like if he met u during a case

i wrote a similar silly little thing here but i have more to say

there r so many ways that could go like if you were a detective on the case? or just so happened to live in the apartment building they think the unsub resides? OR if theyre going around giving the profile throughout his hunting ground, where you just so happen to work?

whichever one it is, spencer’s a little flushed and entranced the whole time and he’s. terribly unsubtle about it. derek cuts himself off mid sentence, ready and waiting for spencer go ACTUALLY! and it...never comes? and when derek follows spencer’s line of sight it leads to you, blissfully unaware of the impact you’ve had on a special fbi agent

maybe you and a few other people need to be watched over by a few agents, just as a safety precaution, and derek is naturally chosen cause he’s jusr. the best. and then derek is like hey....hey hotch.....choose spencer. and hotch 😐 ok spencer you’re gonna protect these people too (am i thinking similar to lila archer? Yes.)

and the entire time, there’s a Group of people that are in the same situation as you but spencer is purely focussed on you. he’s been hovering around you the whole time, keeping you entertained with any interesting facts he can think of and answers any question you have about what the fbi is doing, explaining profiling to you and blushing when you say “holy shit, you’re incredible!”

(meanwhile derek is on the phone to pen and like hehehehehehe guess what im looking at rn? pretty boy is falling in looooooooove and pen asks for ur name and finds out your social security number just in case you hurt her baby boy)

hours later derek gets a call (cause spencer is too busy to answer his phone) from hotch saying they’ve caught the guy, everyone needs to come back to the precinct and he’s. hesitant to interrupt you two. spencer’s been regaling you with tales of famous authors, you’re just as enamoured with him as he is with you and derek can’t. two losers in love! he can’t interrupt that! but he does and looks so apologetic when he does, gently like “hey, we caught the guy” and you’re like oh! yay! but it’s.. clear you’re...weirdly disappointed? and you and spencer share this bittersweet look like very obviously conveys that neither of you want to leave the other

derek. gives spencer this look. then slowly backs up and, when he’s behind you and you can’t see him, gestures wildly to you and spencer has no goddamn idea what he’s signalling (spencer, the love of my life, wonders when derek learned ASL)

BUT spencer knows one thing and that. is that he wants to see you again. many times, preferably, and for a few seconds you just stare at each other, wondering whether it’s appropriate to take the best step and what to say and spencer just.

“i have many more facts about edgar allen poe if you want them.”

“yes. i want them.”

“okay. alright.” he nods. “would you-“

“would you like my number?”

“yes.”

“okay. alright.”

and the two of you leave with the goofiest grins, spencer stays flushed from his chest all the way to the tip of his ears the entire journey home and derek naps with a chuffed grin on his face

[eideticmemory]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 1! - for Sara [@bravadostyles], the ultimate muse. 

SOUNDTRACK:

Empire State of Mind - Jay Z.

Animals - Maroon 5.

Dopamine - Børns.

Word Count: 4,731.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Freshman Year. 

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City. 

“You’ve got that face on,” Claire said. 

“What face is that, Claire?”

“Your trademark ready-to-go-home face,” she giggled. “You tired?”

“Just a little,” you whispered, head resting on her shoulder, feet hanging off the bed. “Had a long day at rehearsal.” 

“Ah,” she nodded. “Well, if you wanna go, we can go. I’ll walk you home.”

“No,” you shook your head, and placed your hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I’m having a good time.” 

Soft music played through the small speakers on Jonathan’s desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone sat in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on John’s bed, and you and Claire rested on his roommate’s bed. Open solo cups of beer were scattered amongst the room. It was calm, chill, and then the door swung open.

“Yoooooo!” The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Johnathan, who hopped off his bed and ran towards the entrance. 

“Gube!” John exclaimed, arms open wide to embrace his friend. He always got a little touchy-feely when he was tipsy. “Where the hell you been, man?”

“Consider my good time ruined,” you murmured to Claire.

“Be nice, [y/n],” she responded, patting your leg. “Everyone’s having a nice time, don’t start anything.”

“Me? Me? I don’t start anything, I never start anything. It’s him who starts it. That di—“

“Hey, [y/n],” Matthew greeted, taking a seat beside John. “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Gube,” Claire smiled. She gave you a gentle nudge with her elbow. 

You rolled your eyes, “Hi, Matthew,” you reluctantly replied, refusing to make eye contact. 

“Aw, c’mon, that’s all I get?” Matthew teased. “What’s wrong, sleeping beauty? You tired?” 

“Oh, you have no idea,” you told him, finally looking over at him. He wore a white polo, paired with a busted pair of jeans and white converse with his mismatched socks poking out. On his chest sat his trademark gold chain, the medallion set in the center of his sternum. 

“Might be past your bedtime,” he shrugged. “Really. Might be better if you just left.” 

“Me?” You scoffed. “Why don’t you leave? We were perfectly fine before you got here.”

“Oh, God,” someone groaned. “Here they go.”

“John wants me here. I’m a little more fun than someone who falls asleep mid-conversation, so I can see why.”

“Matthew, why are you talking to me? Can you just pretend,” you waved your arms around. “Pretend there’s a wall here.” 

“Don’t mind her,” Claire interjected. “She’s crabby because she hasn’t started editing her project yet.” 

You gasped, “Why would you just announce that, Claire? I didn’t wanna be reminded of that.” 

“[y/n], you’re gonna be fucked if you don’t get that shit done. It’s due next week.” Another friend told you. 

You groaned, “Yes. I know that. But I’ve been killing myself practicing for the show every night. And when I finally sat down to start editing, I didn’t know how to work the damn software!” 

“You don’t know how to work EasyEdit?”

“No,” you sighed. “I missed class that day. I tried to learn on YouTube, and that confused me even more. So, I have since then given up.”

“Hm,” John hummed. “You know who’s really good with EasyEdit?”

“Who?”

“Gube,” John answered. This prompted Matthew to lift his head up at astronomical speed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He taught me how to use it. He could help you, [y/n].”

“John...” Claire said. 

“What, Claire?” John replied. “[y/n] needs help and Gube can help. I’m just saying.” 

You cut your eyes over to Matthew, who was watching you, but he quickly turned away when you made eye contact. 

“You’re not clever,” Claire shook her head. “You’re nosey is what you are.” 

“Nosey?” You pipped, tapping Claire’s arm. “What do you mean nosey?” 

“I mean, if you and Gube just...” John said. “I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

“And stop arguing all the damn time,” someone added. “The shit’s annoying.”

Your jaw had been dropped since the word ‘fucked’ was uttered. You looked up at Claire who gave you a sympathetic smile. 

“I-“ You stuttered. “I...never say that again, John! Ever. Ew!”

“Ew?” Matthew exclaimed. “You’d be lucky if I tossed you a bone.”

Your jaw dropped even lower, stunned by Matthew’s words. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” you muttered. “And this is who you want me to allow near my final project?” You directed at John. 

“Hey, if you don’t wanna fuck me, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Matthew taunted, biting his lip and tilting his head. 

“No. I don’t wanna fuck you! I also don’t want to spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to. So I will learn EasyEdit by myself.” 

“Okay,” Matthew shrugged. “You’re not gonna figure that shit out in time, but fine, princess. Be stubborn.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in annoyance. 

“[y/n], let Gube help,” Claire said. “You’re gonna drive yourself insane with that and the show coming up, plus finals? Just this once.”

You looked over at Matthew, instantly getting angry again. Hate is a strong word. It’s a very, very strong word. And you’d never use it against anybody. Ever. Except Matthew Gubler. That may sound a bit dramatic, so to clear up any confusion, here’s a composite list of every asshole, dick, bastard, bitch-ass move he’s made in one semester:

1. Broke your editing equipment trying to do magic tricks in class.

2. Didn’t apologize.

3. Called your last documentary “uninspired, dry, a little like a lullaby.”

4. Took the last spot for an internship over Christmas break. 

5. Which he knew you wanted.

6. Refused to partner with you on a final project because “you can’t even get to class everyday.”

7. In front of everyone because he’s a jackass.

8. Told you that you were insane for majoring in film making AND ballet. 

9. Proceeded to tell you that you look better in a leotard than a suit.

10. Fucked your roommate.

11. While you were in the room.

12. Insisted that Wes Craven is a better horror director than Tim Burton? Is he dumb?

13. Calls you ballerina barbie, short stack, princess, anything other than your actual name. 

14. Won’t drop dead. 

And, because you’re not going to let anyone treat you that way, here’s a list of things you’ve done in retaliation: 

1. “Accidentally” stepped on his canvas. 

2. 3 times.

3. Uploaded a video of you calling him a dick in place of his documentary. 

4. Yes, he did play it for the class on accident.

5. Told him you didn’t want to be his partner anyway since he walks around stoned 24/7. 

6. Laughed. 

7. Told him he’d be a good ballerina. His tiny dick would fit perfectly in a leotard. 

8. Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project. 

9. Told him none of Edgar Allan Poe’s work was actually interesting enough for screen time. (He almost passed out, he got so mad.)

10. Told him his mismatch socks were dumb. 

11. Consistently call him asshole, dick, jackass, or just Matthew. All synonyms.

12. Refuse to let him mess with you. 

So, the idea of him helping you with your project, coming into your room, bothering you for hours on end, was a ridiculous thought. You should punch John for even mentioning it. Except. It wasn’t a bad idea. 

“Hey, pants stay on,” Matthew said, giving you a smirk. “Boy Scouts honor.” 

Everyone was looking at you. It made you queasy. Annoyed. Angry. And you couldn’t take it. So, you sighed heavily and cut your eyes towards Matthew. “Fine,” you grimaced. “Fine. Monday night. You will teach me how to use EasyEdit. And then we can all drop this.” 

“Ah, success,” John cheered. “I’m not worried, though. Look at [y/n], she’s so innocent. She looks like she belongs on top of a Christmas tree. She does ballet for crying out loud. I doubt fucking is on her to-do list.”

“And on that note,” you pushed yourself off the bed. “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.” 

Your room was just down the hall, and you showered, changed, brushed your teeth and got into bed in all of 30 minutes. Just about to fall asleep, you were disturbed by the sound of keys jingling in the door. Sloppy footsteps stumbled into the room, accompanied by silly giggles.

Thinking you were asleep, your roommate admired your sleeping frame, “Awwww,” she cooed. “Precious, precious, [y/n].” She walked over to you and rubbed your shoulder. 

“You’re crazy to not wanna fuck Matthew,” she whispered, chuckling. “You don’t know what you’re missing, kid.”

And you stayed still, silent, pretended to snore. All while Claire crawled into her bed. 

When Monday rolled around, you spent the entire day with a chip on your shoulder. Claire kissed the top of your head and insisted you’d be fine, that your project would be done by the end of the night and you’d be grateful for Matthew’s help. But she knew that was a  dead cause in her heart of hearts. You both knew it’d be a miracle if Matthew and you made it through 15 minutes of editing. 

When she left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into pajama pants, combined with a cozy cropped button sweater. You sat at your desk, and waited. You’d told Matthew to arrive at 7. 

He got there at 7:59.

By then, you were laying in bed, pissed and upset that you’d actually been convinced to give Matthew a chance. He knocked on the door, and you answered with an attitude. “Go home, Matthew.” 

“Don’t be like that, short stack,” he sighed, following you as you stomped into the room. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah? What’d you get caught up with? A gram?” You spit. 

He laughed, “Haha, so funny. No, I was not getting high. I was working on my own project. That I finished. Ahead of time. Can you relate, [y/n]?” 

“Get out of my room,” you scoffed. “I asked you for one thing. One. And you couldn't even do that. You knew how important this project was to me, and you didn’t give a fuck. I wasted time waiting for you that I could’ve been working or rehearsing! I—Are you listening?” 

Matthew’s eyes had been concentrated solely on your chest, “Are you wearing a bra?” He asked. 

You took a step back, stunned, blinking rapidly as you searched around the room. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m just trying to find where the hell that came from?” 

“It came from that itty bitty shirt you’re wearing,” he replied with a shrug. “Doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.” 

“Stop staring at my tits!” You shouted, face turning red. “God, Matthew, I can’t stand to look at you right now. Just, leave. Please.” 

He did not stop staring at your tits. Not for a very long time. But when he did, he had this look in his eyes. Like a wire had snapped. And he kissed you. Cupped your face in his hands, pulled you close, and kissed you. You pressed your hands against his chest, face contorting in shock and confusion. 

You pushed him away, lips retracting with a sharp smacking noise. Saliva dripped from your lips, and you stood there, huffing and puffing like the two of you had just run a mile. “What the hell was that?” You snapped, your fingertips lightly touching your bottom lip. 

He didn’t reply. He was just as speechless as you were. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so, so pretty. He was so pretty. Has he always been that pretty? 

You grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and pulled him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Matthew’s hand gripped onto your hair, his body pushing itself against yours in an eager attempt to get as close to you as possible. His other hand made its way to your waist, gripping onto your skin so hard, his nails left marks. Both his hands began to snake down your body, landing on the back of your thighs. 

Very suddenly, Matthew scooped you up in his arms, yanking your feet off of the ground. You let out a breathy ‘oof’ as you found yourself perched in his grasp, your legs wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supported your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth. 

He carried you over to your bed, where he abruptly dropped you onto the mattress, and looked down at you with a lustful grin. Standing beside the bed, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you — slowly, with his hands reaching out to touch your body — but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hands on your ribs and pushed your sweater up, over your breasts to reveal your chest. 

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.” 

Your breath caught in your throat, before you released it shakily. His lips wrapped around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you gripped onto his hair in ecstasy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He sucked harder, to the point of pain, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise. When one nipple began to pulse between his lips, he moved to the other, leaving a trail of love bites between them. 

The heat between your legs was suffocating, and you rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Matthew noticed this, and proceeded to stick his hands down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirked at how soaked you were already and rubbed your clit as he licked a trail up to your neck. You tightened your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets. 

The sound caused Matthew to take in a sharp breath of air. His cock was pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and was getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your nerve, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs. 

He nibbled on your ear, and as you gave him a quiet moan, your eyes flickered down to look between your bodies. Flushed, and horny, and suddenly so desperate, you grabbed onto Matthew’s large erection and pressed the tip against your clit. 

He grunted and pulled back to stare you in the eye, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He laughed, “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Innocent? Innocent, my ass.” 

As you rolled your eyes at him, he kissed your lips softly, hands holding onto your thighs. You positioned his cock at your entranced and allowed him to press into you. He stood up straight, watching his cock disappear inside you, slowly, steadily, before he suddenly slammed into you. The sound of skin colliding on skin mixed in with your and Matthew’s moans, and he watched your head roll back in pleasure. 

He licked his lips, smirking. And he did it again. And again. And again. Pulling out all the way and pushing back into you. Hard. The sensation struck your chest, and elicited vulnerable moans from you every time he pounded you. Matthew instantly began to speed his hips up, nails digging into your thighs as he pressed your legs open for him. His used all his strength to fuck you, your head knocking into the wall with every thrust. It was sloppy and messy and you couldn’t stop whimpering. Your eyes were screwed shut, and when you opened them again, the first thing you noticed with his chain. The gold medallion dangled in your face, Matthew’s lips pressed against your cheek. 

Absentmindedly, you tangled your fingers in the chain, tugging on it as your volume increased. “Fuck,” you muttered. “Oh, fuck.” 

He brought his hand up to your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, quietly, softly. And you did it without thinking. His thumb slid into your mouth, twirling around your tongue and stifling your moans. 

He removed his hand and placed his thumb on your clit, wetting the skin with your own saliva. You let out a loud yelp at the new sensation, and a bubble instantly formed in your stomach. 

Oh, no, not Matthew, you thought. Don’t let it be Matthew. 

But with his cock and his hips and the way he kissed your neck and rubbed your sensitive nerve all at once. You came, you came with a fit of pornographic moans, trembling and writhing around on the bed. 

And it was Matthew — the first guy to make you come. Ever. 

He licked his lips as he watched you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he pulled out of you and released himself onto your chest, watching the fluid cover the hickies he’d left there. 

He looked angelic on top of you, moaning, panting, swearing under his breath. But the moment he finished, he stepped back, fastened his pants and walked away. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him in a daze. 

Matthew logged onto your computer, pressed a few buttons and then closed the laptop shut. Then he left. 

However, the next day he sent you an email. Your project. Fully and perfectly edited. 

Okay. So, that happened. They said it would happen and it happened. Didn’t necessarily make you hate Matthew any less, but it happened. It was good. You hated to admit it. And it was all you could think about. You couldn’t even touch yourself or hold your pillow without thinking of Matthew. It was bad. 

Especially, given the fact that after the whole situation, he decided not to talk to you. At all. Not in class, not while hanging out with friends, not even to pick a fight. Complete and utter radio silence. He looked at you enough though. Not while you were looking at him, of course. So, as far as you knew, you were far off of his mind. But life had to go on. You had to focus on school, and on top of that, you were due to perform in NYU’s production of Swan Lake in less than two weeks. 

You landed the main role of Odette, meaning for the next two weeks, you had to eat, sleep, breathe ballet. You practiced for hours on end, barely saw your friends, which gave you a good break from seeing Matthew. 

Opening night rolled around and you were so nervous, you thought you might puke. Only a freshman, it was a miracle you landed the role in the first place, which meant your performance tonight was a make or break moment. Claire could tell you were sick to your stomach and tried to distract you by taking a bunch of pictures on her phone.

“Smile, pretty girl!” She beamed, the flashing going off in your face as you posed. “[y/n], you’re gonna kill it! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yeah...” you whispered. “Deathly excited.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she swung her arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna be front  and center, cheering you on. Just focus on me, okay?” 

You smiled and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.” 

Your body was on autopilot out on stage. The movements you’d practiced everyday, for hours and hours on end, just flowed. The lighting in the audience was dark, but you could just barely make out Claire’s figure under the soft hue. 

It wasn’t until the finale, when you stood ready for your closing performance, that the lights switched to their full intensity and you noticed a hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. An arm resting behind her head. Someone whispering in her ear, making her laugh. 

Matthew.

He was here. He was here and he was with Claire. He was with Claire and he was watching you. And it made your stomach feel weird. But then the music kicked up. So, you had to go. You fell into your dance, your rhythm and for some reason, you could not stop staring at Matthew. 

Every twirl, you made him your focal point. Looking at him again, and again, and again. Until the lights went out. 

Supporting ballerinas cheered you on as you walked offstage, throwing flowers at your feet and giving you applause. Your instructor marched right up to you, kissed both sides of your face and embraced you. It was a wonderful feeling, but right then, you were drained, emotionally, mentally, physically, you needed some rest. 

You locked yourself away in your dressing room, taking a seat in the mirror and beginning to remove your tights. Pressing a makeup wipe to your skin, you jumped, startled by a knock on the door. You rose from your seat and walked to the entrance casually, expecting Claire to greet you. 


But you froze, as soon as you opened the door. Eyes glazing over the person in front you, your breath caught in your throat. “Matthew.” 

“Hey,” he smiled. He looked you up and down — your naked legs, your breasts poking through the thin material of the leotard. “You...you were amazing tonight.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Bye.”

You attempted to close the door on him, but his put his elbow against the frame, stopping it in motion. “Whoa,” he exclaimed, pushing his way into the room. “What the hell is your problem?” He closed the door behind him.

“My problem is that I’m very tired, and still need to change, and greet everyone waiting for me. So, I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

You ducked your head down, “Nothing. Nothing. You need to leave.”

“Hey, hey, hey, ballerina barbie,” he mocked. “What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal! I have nothing to say to you Matthew. Same way you have nothing to say to me.” You scrunched up your face in a frown.

“I...” he paused, laughing under his breath. “I never said I didn’t have something to tell you. In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” 

You looked up at him — the gel in his hair, his black button down shirt flowing over his belt buckle, his dark eyes, his lips and the way they were pouting just a little. And like a magnet, you found yourself being pulled towards him. You jumped into his arms, hands on his face, and connecting your lips, mouths open, tongues touching. 

Matthew held you up, moaning against your lips. “Mm,” you hummed. “Wait, what if someone comes in?” 

Matthew thought quickly, hiking you up in his arms and shoving your back against the door. “Well, now they can’t get in, can they?” He mumbled, leaving kisses along your neck.

Your jaw dropped and you started to undo his belt, freeing his cock from his pants. He grunted against your skin as you stroked him, your head leaned back against the door, your chest heaving. You used your other hand to pull your leotard to the side, revealing your throbbing core. 

Matthew smirked, letting you guide his dick to your entrance, and pushed his way into you swiftly. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck to keep yourself quiet. His thrusts were quick, rough, messy. He was much more vocal this time, making no effort to stay silent.

“Fuck,” he moaned in your ear. “F-fuck, I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck.”

The feeling was mutual. For the past month, you’d be wondering what the hell about Matthew had you so stuck. So fixated on him. And this was it. He filled you up perfectly, could manhandle you however he wanted, and always, always made sure you came. 

He fucked you harder when he noticed your orgasm nearing — your quickened breaths, frequent moans and whines, and your legs tightening against his torso. “Oh, my God,” you whimpered. 

“Shit, are you gonna come?” He asked. “Good.”

Breathless, speechless, you stared into his eyes helplessly as your body began to crumble. All power left your body and you held onto his shirt for dear life. He gave you a small smile, and flipped his hair out of his face, looking down at his cock. He could pinpoint the exact stroke that did it. The one that sent you into a state of euphoria, sent your eyes rolling back, your body into intense shock. 

You let out a long and weakened sigh as the wave washed over you, and Matthew continued to plow into you like nothing was happening. 

“It’s so cool how your pussy tightens up when you come,” he chuckled. “It’s hot.” 

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice, clawing at the back of his neck. His breathing became ragged and hoarse, and he had to pull out of you before he came. He jerked himself off until he exploded onto your clothing. And with you being dressed in all black, his stains stood out perfectly on your costume. 

This time, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before he left.

The week after that was finals week. And neither of you could be bothered to reach out. Despite the not-so-subtle confession of bitterness and the very intense orgasms you shared, you and Matthew simply went back to not talking. Your friends thought it was strange, even commented that they missed the bickering. The two of you shrugged in response. 

Most of your dorm room was in boxes by the time you finished your last final exam. Claire was slower to pack up than you were, considering she only lived an hour away, but she applauded you for your determination. The day Claire did start packing was the day before you left for the summer. The two of you spent the day getting everything cleared out, cleaned, squared away.

While the two of you sat on your bed, watching Netflix, a knock sounded from your door. Claire hopped up and headed towards the entrance, opening it with a grand smile. “Gube!” She shouted, instantly opening her arms for a hug. Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, carrying her into the room with a smile.

 “Are you about to leave?” She asked him, holding onto his arms as he placed her feet back on the ground. 

“Yeah, my mom’s here. So, I wanted to stop by and say goodbye,” he nodded. 

“Aw, Gube, you softie,” she giggled. “[y/n], come say bye.”

“I can say bye from right here, Claire,” you replied. She gave you a look, and you felt compelled to get off the bed. So you did, you approached them, “Bye, Matthew.” 

“Bye, shortcake,” he laughed. “Bye, Claire.” He pulled your roommate into another hug, while you stood there, crossing your arms in annoyance. 

Matthew peeked at you over Claire’s shoulder. One hand rubbed her back and the other reached out to you, holding a small note.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, then the note, then Claire. You ripped the paper from his hand, and stuffed it into your pocket right away. He smirked at you, and turned his attention back to Claire. 

“Hey,” he said to her. “Come back to my place, I want everyone there to show my mom I actually have friends.” 

Claire chuckled and nodded, “Okay,” she shrugged. “Let’s go. [y/n], you coming?”

“Uh, no,” you shook your head. “I’m gonna keep packing, but I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” Claire smiled, and she let Matthew whisk her away. 

You sighed, and as soon as the door closed, you pulled the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. You opened it up to reveal — not a meaningful message, not even a few words. Just one string of numbers, writing in his handwriting:

505. 

[PART 2.]