#it's just kind of how things have progressed in the plot

[hosekisama]

IT IS FINISHED.

The Past Teaches You to Be Alone is complete at 150,243 words across 40 chapters! If you were holding off because you don't read WIPs, your time is now!

Some kind comments/testimonials we've received over the past (holy shit) year:

wow.

I started reading it thinking, hmm it's very long, do I really want to invest so much time in it? And now I'm so excited that there's so much more of this story I'm practically buzzing.

This is such a grounded take on the role-swap AU.

I love how you've struck a perfect balance of following the plot beats but drastically recontextualizing and showing new angles to them.

And for the fic in general, I am really really enjoying it a lot. Not only has very coherent and nuanced takes on both AU Kim and AU Harry, but the writing is superb. I repeat what I (and others) have said about Discernment but is written masterfully. And finally, for the plot, it followed the games events and my expectations for the most part, which you manage to give new meaning and perspective while referencing the source. However, I have been pleasantly surprised

GOOD FUCKING FOOD, the best Kim Kitsuragi I ever did read

kim kickassuragi yyyeaaah

Totally in love with this version on Kim as well as the original one, as they're really feel like the same person with different turns of events

I love how you've written Harry and Kim's swapped dynamic and this has been just such a tasty treat to read!

aughh… aoghghhh… aououugughhghghhhh… ow.

I'm so in love with this story. You have to understand them SO well to pull off an AU like this and they are both just perfect. A friend of mine is already used to me screaming in our messages at least once a day about this amazing fic I've found and what a fantastic job it's doing of both Kim and Harry. Heartbroken I'm now caught up and can no longer binge-read it.

This fic is impossible to put down.

yes yes yes yes yesz yes yes yes yes yes LETS GOOOOO

this is such an enchanting and well thought out read

The writings style is so beautiful and just the right amount of flowery and detail <3

stays true to the mysterious and melancholic tones the game script has whilst being your own independent creation

HARRY SEEMS LIKE THE PERSONIFICATION OF A WARM CUP OF COFFEE. BEAUTIFUL.

AUGH I am waiting anxiously on the edge of my seat

It's amazing, and SUPER impressive- you guys ought to be feeling proud as hell!

It's really inspiring to see how much thought you guys gave put into this, and the entire fic is beautifully polished.

I'm screaming im crying

Thsi is fuckin incredible I can't wait for more, thanks for giving me my morning newspaper

Love waking up to an email notification about this fic!

there have been moments where I had to kick my feet and go hee hee! hoo hoo! god I love well written fic and this is very well written.

i just wanted to specifically state how gorgeous and well written it was and how many times i've re-read it lmao. You guys nailed the weirdness and unexplainable but still all consuming raw hurt of emotional dreams

read all of this in a day and it's so so thrilling and creative and interesting and inspiring. incredible work and such a gift

Their dynamic is beautiful and I'm so excited to see more of these two! You can so clearly tell how much thought you put into which traits and behaviours would still be present in the swap version and how they'd change and it's so much fun to read!

Their interactions have such a certain cadence to them. They feel really natural to me. They don't have everything out there, but you can feel the growing trust and earnestness. Youve done the progression of things so well.

Masterful. Touching. So full of love.

to read

I'm very pleased to finally be sharing this -- @lgbterrorist and I have put a lot of work into this Swap AU fic, and it's just started serializing on AO3.

Something happened to Kim Kitsuragi that knocked his life wildly off course. Now it’s March of ’51, and he’s woken up in the Whirling-in-Rags with an apocalyptic concussion, a chip on his shoulder, and a partner intent on solving a murder.

The Past Teaches You to Be Alone. Kimharry, rated M, final word count ~148k.

The cover art is by Sykine, definitely check out their other work!

[craniumcrunch]

the concept of not giving a fuck about the adult tl feels like a slap to the face. and i know, i know, this may seem like me just Saying That because im a mistynator and the bulk of mistynat is situated in the adult tl, but. even if you don't necessarily like it (i myself have had Issues with the choppy pacing/plot progression. though this is true with the teen tl too.), it feels unfathomable to just ignore it. how do you overlook that shauna, so monstrously, brazenly herself, retreats into the shell of expectation once she returns? how are you not smitten as she cracks it all over again? how do you ignore that in spite of all the hurdles thrown at her, taissa perseveres? that she builds a lavish life and family? how do you ignore the horror that comes with seeing such a beautiful thing being slowly wrenched from her fastidious grasp? (something that could have been written a lot better. a lot. but what more can we expect from that racist colourist writers room sigh). how do you find yourself indifferent to idealistic nat stripped down to her bare bones? the nat who once believed love was a fairy tale now fucking kevyn tan for a toxicology report? nat -- the epitome of 'let's find another way', who sought out food, who urged them home, who even in the pilot rebelled against the freezing out of allie. nat who has resigned herself to the fact that she's never going to get better. who sometimes drinks and does lines of coke and holds a rifle beneath her chin. and how do you find yourself apathetic to misty? who out of all the girls changes the least, and makes no attempt to shield it. who only really needs to be needed, wants to be wanted -- who chases kindness she cannot accept, in her heart of hearts. who loves so much it makes her sick -- as she's always done -- but accepts only the currency of indifferency in return. who remains frozen in time and chipped out by the axe of grief. who manipulates, as she has always done, herself as much as she does the rest.

but y'know. they're old. so who cares i guess.

[soaps-mohawk]

Not to sound rude (i hope it doesn’t sound like that 😣) but how many chapters do you plan for the a/b/o series to be and will we get all of 141 getting spicy with reader

You had me scared there for a moment, anon, ngl. (See previous asks to unravel that trauma over these last couple days)

Hehe, yeah, it's (as of this moment) looking like about 30ish chapters? 35 maybe? Idk honestly just kind of depends lol. It's gonna be a long boy though.

We will be getting spicy with all four, yes. It's sort of a bit unintentionally Price-centric right now. That's just due to the nature of how things have played out as well as how things work in their world. We will be getting much more of the others here after Chapter 13, though. Price will be fading into the background for a bit, and the others will get their moments to be front and center (yes including Ghost).

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The fandom can't make up its mind on what's supposed to be a joke and what's supposed to be serious because the show can't either half the time. It's a tonally disjointed mess that wants to have absurd over-the-top humor as well as a plot and moments of drama, romance, and angst that demand you see the characters as people and feel for what they're going through. Except you can't do that without also treating the dumb bullshit in a somewhat grounded way. Like, you're still dealing with the same characters. You can't just go "Oh, that? Let's ignore that!" the moment it's no longer convenient to you. You've opened this can of worms and now you have to sleep in it. So, every character flip-flops between two different versions of themselves depending on what the writers need in any particular scene.

This is not to say surreal humor can't be used right alongside characters you're supposed to empathize with, Teen Titans (not Go) did that and it worked. It's just that the absurdity can only come from the setting (Mad Mod, Mother Mae-Eye, pretty much anything Control Freak is in) or from designated joke characters (Date With Destiny). Teen Titans never had the main characters acting in clearly absurd ways as the butt of a joke unless those characters were brainwashed somehow, because the writers knew that would ruin any of the more grounded moments they wanted to write. The writers of Miraculous missed the memo on that one.

I don't disagree. A perfect example is Derision where the show takes all of the bad jokes about Marinette's crush and decides to take them seriously as if you can possible take them seriously without making Marinette come across as unhinged and dangerous. You can't, which brings us to the topic at hand: how do you even begin to understand these characters when the show is constantly making character-breaking choices?

My approach - and the approach I recommend others take if they're going to keep watching the show - is to focus on the characters' cores and reject anything canon does to violate those cores. I don't argue for this stance because I love the characters so much that I only want the good things to count. I take this stance because, if you don't, then the characters fall apart. There is no way to make them work as fully realized characters while embracing every choice canon has made. Miraculous has massive characterization issues that go well beyond the humor.

For example, Adrien has multiple moments of terrible behavior that are played in a serious manner such as the moment in the episode Frozer where he tries to start a fight with Ladybug in the middle of an akuma attack because she wouldn't accept a rose from him earlier:

Setup

Ladybug: I can't accept this rose from you. I told you already. I'm in love with someone else. Cat Noir: I know, M'lady. But if he weren't here, would things be different between us? Ladybug: Well, you know, I can't even begin to imagine him not being here. I'm sorry, Cat Noir. I really gotta get going, and you better do the same. (Swings her yo-yo to head back home; Cat Noir is sad, looking downwards, with one petal of the rose falling.)

Payoff

Ladyice: Cat Noir. We need to set up a trap for whoever turned the city into a giant ice rink. (throws yo-yo) Icecat: (bitterly) My feline instincts prefer to track and observe before I attack. You go your way, I'll go mine. Ladyice: Please don't tell me you're mad at me about the rose. Icecat: There may be a certain chill now between us. Ladyice: I get it, but we should really focus on saving Paris right now. Icecat: We don't always have to do everything together, after all. It's not like we're a couple. (skates away)

There's no way to argue this off as a bad joke. While Adrien has every right to feel hurt, those feelings don't excuse him acting like a pouting child in the middle of an akuma fight. It doesn't excuse him acting like this at any point! Ladybug is not a villain for telling him no. She wasn't even mean about it!

I clearly fully agree that Adrien looks awful and selfish here, but I'd still argue that it's not something that should be used to define Adrien's character if your goal is to tell the "ideal" version of Miraculous. "Ideal" being the version that canon seems to be going for based on the overall picture we can sort of make out if we back way, way, way up and look at the extremely abstract picture canon is clumsily painting.

Unless canon is going to do something monumentally stupid, Adrien is Marinette's endgame romantic interest. It's also clear that there is no plan to cut him from the team. He's going to be Chat Noir for the rest of his life or at least well into his adulthood. This means that he is supposed to be a good hero who deserves his miraculous just like he's supposed to be a charming and cute romantic lead. These are the two things I keep in mind when trying to shift through canon to figure out what writing choices I should fully embrace and what writing choices I have to either ignore or treat as true flaws that get an actual character arc. In my book, either approach is fine because most of the characters are deeply flawed at this point and you can't give them all arcs without bloating the story to nonsense levels.

My goal with this approach is never to say, "oh, that moment shouldn't count in terms of how people feel about the character." It's more, "that moment goes so hard against who this character is very clearly supposed to be that I can't take it into account if I want to tell the kind of story that Miraculous is trying (and clearly failing) to tell."

As an example, let's list off Adrien's worst behaviors. The things that make him look terrible:

He sucks at communicating his needs and feelings, leading to multiple moments where he gets mad at Ladybug for things she's totally unaware of

He has quit or considered quitting without warning multiple times and only one of those was because of something he did "wrong" (NYC Special)

He puts his feelings before the safety of Paris on multiple occasions, even going so far to purposely miss akuma fights to see what happens

He is incredibly pushy about his crush, often ignoring Ladybug's feelings on the topic by continuing to bring it up even after she asked him to stop

There have been multiple instances where he almost cataclysmed multiple people in a fit of anger

His love for Ladynette isn't strong enough to let him break free of things like akumas and nightmare dust even when he's looking her in the eyes making him a pretty crappy romantic lead

People will argue that some of this behavior makes sense for his character because of the abuse that canon has technically introduced, but that the writers seem blissfully unaware of. I don't disagree with that argument, but that doesn't change the fact that none of this is acceptable behavior for a hero and Adrien is a hero who keeps doing these things. A sad backstory doesn't give you the right to behave poorly without consequences.

At the same time, if I fully embrace these elements of canon, what I get is an Adrien salt fic where he loses his miraculous for good while Marinette finds her real true love or even just a non-salty fic where Adrien leaves for his own meatal health and gets replaced by someone who can handle being a hero right now. Canon's not writing either of those, so the only way to engage with these flaws while enjoying canon or aiming for the same end goals as canon is to say, "I guess this doesn't count" or "I guess I need to tone this way down and work through it via a character arc" or even "I guess that was just a bad joke maybe?"

That is the essence of what I mean when I call myself a writing salt, character sugar blog. It comes from looking at canon and seeing that there's simply no way to embrace the worst moments and the best at the same time. We're not dealing with a coherent plot and/or complex characters. We're dealing with a nonsense plot that will warp the characters to bizarre shapes to make random ideas work even if those idea go wildly against canon's end goals.

As an example, Glaciator and Frozer should not exist in the same universe or, at the very least, something should explain why Chat Noir randomly changed his stance on Ladybug's crush from acceptance to pushiness. As is, the pieces don't fit together. The behavior is too contradictory. Remember, this is how Glaciator ends:

Perhaps Ladybug will love me someday. I mean, like, I love her. I have to believe. In the meantime, her friendship is the best gift of all.

Where did this version of Adrien go? Why did he regress in Frozer? There's no in-universe reason. It happened because the writers weren't ready to let the love square date or grow close, but they also wanted the love square to cause drama, so Adrien ends up looking terrible just like Marinette ends up looking terrible when it's her turn to cause love square drama. Her terribleness takes a different flavor so it can be hard to realize that this is a systemic issue, but that's what it is. It's deeply frustrating, but it also clearly stems from cheap writing and not quality characterization.

This is also why my stance is that canon as a whole only supports my Doyalistic core-character analysis style of approach. The writing is too poor quality to do Watsonian analysis where you embrace the full picture and try to put it all together. The closest I'll get to Watsonian analysis is pointing out how much the writing botches a Watsonian take by showing you all the way the writing contradicts itself, twisting into a nonsense pretzel of frustration where the payoffs never satisfy! (See the season four rant for an example or anything where I talked about Chloe's supposed damnation arc.)

There are even characters where canon is such a total mess that you can Doyalistically argue for two separate takes! Gabriel is a perfect example. He is all over the place and his ending was so poorly handled that you can make strong arguments for writing him as a cold-hearted villain or a sympathetic villain without the end result feeling like it spits in the face of canon because both takes maintain his one core element: villain.

That's the big thing I keep in mind when I look at the characters and the lore and the plots and try to come up with versions that the average fan would like. I don't think that there's one true version of any of these things, but I do feel comfortable saying that there are versions that will very clearly only appeal to people who are salty about a specific thing that canon did poorly. That's not who I want to appeal to in my adaptions, so while I'm not going to argue that those takes have no backing in canon, I will argue that those takes are not supported by canon as a whole. Embracing them requires you to take the worst parts of canon at face value while ignoring what canon is clearly trying to do with the overall story.

I get the appeal of that, but it's not fun for me because that approach feels like rolling around in the mud with the pigs. I don't want to sink to canon's level! I want to have fun! That's why I talk about how to make canon into its best self, not its worst self. If you want its worst self, just go watch the actual show. I will be shocked it if disappoints you.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Long-Running Story Ideas That I Very Much Wish I Could Actually Write

Original Fiction

Shadowstruck

Lily Between Worlds

Cardinal's Map

Paper Wings

A Beautiful Tomorrow

Henry and Mouse

Starfall

The Dust That Falls from Passing Stars

Cinderella retelling

Starfall novel

Arateph

The Princess and the Pea

Rapunzel

Snow White

Cinderella

Half-baked ideas for Little Red Riding Hood, The Goose Girl, and the romance of Auren's parents

Other Fairy Tale Retellings

The Tattercoats Retelling

Traditional East of the Sun, West of the Moon retelling

Political Goose Girl retelling

The Servant's Crown

Twelve Huntsmen retelling

[obligatory-name-change]

reading dungeon meshi

[arolesbianism]

I should rly play portal, but at the same time I find it kind of funny to have it continue to exist as that one game I'd fuck around with the physics in as a lil kid instead of actually doing the puzzles in my memories especially since I'm sure I'd have rly liked glados if I actually bothered to actually progress in the video game I was playing

[eternalsams]

My Taste ↠ Robert 'Bob' Reynolds

pairing: Bob Reynolds x gn!reader

warning/content: fluff, anxiety, non-established relationship, Bob's a cute puppy in love, might contain spoilers if you look into it, it's giving Avengers fanfic with Clint in the vent and Thor eating pop-tarts.

summary: You take Bob out but his anxiety gets the best of him and he's scared he might ruin everything.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration. This is my first time writing for Bob, I saw the movie so I know the way I'm writing for him isn't the same as in the comics.

marvel masterlist main masterlist

You grabbed your bag and walked in the common room when something caught your attention. Bob had just turned a page of his book, his lips parted in concentration as his eyes read word after word on the paper. You smiled softly to yourself, he just seemed so relaxed after a couple of months with you guys.

The first few weeks were the hardest, he'd stay mostly silent, only speaking when talked to. His relationship with Yelena was the strongest, the two connected very quickly and she was the one he talked the most to. But he eventually opened up to the others, including you. He once found you reading a book and sat down next to you on the couch, sometimes stealing glances at you and your book as you flipped pages. "What's it about?" He asked quietly and if he'd said it any lower, you wouldn't have heard him. You looked up at him, surprised he was interested in what you were doing. You looked back down at the words you were reading and mentally marked your progression before looking back at Bob. "It's uhm... it's a romance." You noticed his cheeks flush a little as he smiled sheepishly. "Is it any good?" He then asked and you smiled at him, pitching him the plot of the romance you were reading.

And so the next time you went to the library for yourself, you looked for a book you could get for Bob. During your previous conversation on your own reading, he quickly told you what he liked in the plot and what he disliked, so you had a vague idea of what to get him. And when you came back home, the new recruit was getting coffee in the kitchen. He added a cube of sugar as you noticed he always did in every hot drink he had. "Hey, Bob!" You called him and he jumped a bit, holding his cup extra-carefully. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." You chuckled and pushed his new book on the counter towards him. "What's this?" He frowned as he sipped on his coffee, the hot drink warming up his tired body and numb muscles. "It's for you! If you don't like it, you can still give it back, I kept the receipt." You explained as you pulled the think piece of paper out of your bag. He put down his cup of coffee and reached for the book, his fingers caressing the hard cover. "You really shouldn't have, thank you. It means a lot to me." He smiled and you could've swore you saw his eyes shine with tears before he looked down at the book and opened it.

Since that day, you'd exchange about your last readings and more. He opened up to you and sometimes asked you to get him particular books when he knew you'd pass by the library. Leading to today. He was so focused on the fictional story he was reading about he almost missed you but he eventually looked up and smiled at you.

Bob liked you, he liked how passionate you were about what you loved, he liked how patient you were with him. When you first met, he was apologizing for every breath he was taking a bit too close to everyone and every time he did so, you'd smile at him with kindness and tell him he was fine. You never told him the things he felt were senseless, you acknowledged his feelings and accepted them. And he liked your smile, how small wrinkles appeared beside your eyes when you laughed at one of Alexei's bad jokes. And he couldn't not notice how much work you put in your body and strength. He knew you were waking up early to go work out with Bucky, the two of you showing up sweaty and tired in the kitchen when he was having his umpteenth coffee after a long night staring at the ceiling of his room.

Bob noticed how you were dressed and holding your bag in your hand, he frowned. "Are you going somewhere?" He was confused, you didn't have anything coming up in your agenda, so maybe a last minute trip to the store or something. "I wanted to know if you wanted to go grab a coffee somewhere. But I see you're deep in your book so I don't want to disturb you." You chuckled sheepishly and put down your bag next to the couch. Bob parted his lips and looked down at his book, the plot was getting really interesting and he was almost done with his chapter. He didn't really like putting down his books in the middle of a chapter but he also really wanted to go out, and especially with you. "I can finish reading my chapter and then I'm all yours. I mean... not all yours, I mean yeah but-" He stuttered, warmth flooding his face as he tried to crawl out of this embarrassing slip of the tongue. "Of course! Finish your chapter, I'll be waiting." You smiled at him and pulled out your phone before sitting down on the couch and staying busy until Bob was ready for you. The young man stared at you for a little longer, surprised with how comprehensive you were, but also not shocked at all. And before you could catch him staring, he focused once more on his book. He quickly finished the chapter, snapped the book shut and almost run to his room to change into something else than his usual sweatpants.

When he came back, you were waiting for him by the door and held it open for him. You locked behind the two of you since the others were out on different missions and Bob followed you in the street. Even after a few months in New York, he was still amazed by the tall buildings and how loud the city was. There were so many people in the streets that he almost wanted to grab your hand not to lose you in the crowd but he stopped himself because that'd be weird if he did. You eventually turned into a quieter street and he noticed the small café with the tables on the pavement. You went to sit in the sun and he followed you silently. A waitress came to bring you the menu and Bob politely smiled at her as you thanked her. "So... tell me, Bob." You caught his attention and he looked up at you above his menu. "Did you talk with Bucky like I told you to?" Bob once told you he wanted to learn how to fight but was still too scared to go out and find a gym. So you convinced him to think about telling Bucky because you knew the ex-soldier would be very attentive and caring with Bob. "Uhm, no... Not yet. But I think I'll talk to him when he'll be back home tomorrow." He nodded as if to convince himself he could do it. "He actually offered to help me if I ever wanted to get into... that." He explained a little shyly. "That's great! See? I'm sure he'll be glad to see you're taking his offer."

The waitress came back to take your orders and you simply asked for two coffees and a piece of pie to share. You and Bob kept talking about what he's been doing while you were out on missions, sharing funny stories about Yelena's guinea pig or how thrilling the last movie he saw was. The lady brought you your drinks and food and you thanked her. You took a sip of your coffee and closed your eyes as the bitterness of coffee burned you tongue. When you opened your eyes again, you noticed Bob was fidgeting and not touching his cup. "Something's wrong?" He looked up at you and quickly shook his head before forcing a smile. "No. Everything's fine." He shrugged awkwardly and grabbed his cup before taking a sip and hiding a grimace. "Bob. What's wrong?" You put down your coffee and reached out for his hand. He stared at your hand as he felt the softness of your fingers rub his knuckles. How can someone who might've taken lives have hands this soft? "It's nothing, they just... Aren't they supposed to give a cube of sugar? You know, just in case..." He asked quietly, not really knowing what he was getting at. He hasn't been out in society for so long, he couldn't even remember the last time he went to a fast-food.

"They forgot your sugar?" You asked as you moved to stand up and go ask for some. Bob squeezed your hand to stop you from doing so with panicked eyes. "No, don't! It's fine, really. I can drink it without sugar." To make his point, he took another sip and did a better job at hiding his grimace, but still not perfect. "Bob... You never take your coffee without sugar." You sat back down, your second hand joining the first one holding his. He could feel his heart beating faster at the contact but ignored it. "How do you- Never mind, it's okay, I promise." He anxiously glanced at the waiters inside, they might've forgotten because they're busy or maybe they're having a bad or long day.

"I always notice things about you Bob." You admitted, drawing back his attention on you. He almost spilled his coffee on his shirt when he looked into your eyes and saw the softest of them. He couldn't remember when was the last time someone looked at him that way. It made him think, hope, that what he was starting to feel could be reciprocated. He smiled and felt his cheeks flush. You let go of his hand and stood up, but before he could ask you where you were going, you told him. "I'm going to the bathroom, will you be alright by yourself for a minute?" You asked him jokingly, a teasing smile on your lips. He nodded and smiled as you left the table and he watched you go inside. He quickly averted his eyes when he realized his gaze was dropping and punished himself mentally. He was supposed to be your friend, not a pervert who checked you out every time you turned your back to him. True to your words, you came back a minute later at your table and dropped a cube of sugar in his cup of coffee.

Bob's eyes snapped at you and back to the waiters inside. Before he could fully panic, you grabbed his hand and rubbed his knuckles once more. "I said I wanted more sugar for my coffee, I didn't tell them it was for you." You explained and noticed his shoulders drop in relief. You knew Bob never wanted to be a burden, even more after what happened when you all first met. He felt guilty over everything and anything. But you could work with that, half your friends were that way. One more or one less wouldn't change how you'd handle things. "Thank you." He said quietly before taking a new sip and smiling softly. "Better huh?" You chuckled and he nodded, enjoying the feeling of coffee waking up his body and your hand still in his, keeping him out of his thoughts and in the present. But he was way more surprised when you lifted his hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles, timidly smiling at him, not knowing if he would accept the gesture. But the look of pure adoration in his eyes gave you an answer and your smile widened.

tag list (people who interacted (comments or reposts) when i asked who wanted Bob in my characters list): @leavemeoutofitkay @adaobiiii @sennasiempre @thetorturedpoetcalleddez @gumdropgirl

@woniwontons @hailey-laufeyson @ineverusethisaccount @nopopculturereferenceinthetrip @crashingout136789

@autumnsymphony @smiley-roos @fandomficsobsession @rummikubcube @girxwrp @books4ever03 @firebeverly @xprloki

@spideybatsy @mvcg-oo @devils-blackrose @wandalfnation @foreverchangingmind

[zillychu]

sometimes you black out and just an entire Persona 5 AU in one night

did I ever settle on a design for phantom thief! Siffrin? no. anyway,

NOT fully mirroring the P5 plot!! it's a bit different! a few were hit with the obligatory anime teenager beam

Siffrin gets arrested for allegedly attacking someone with a knife! this did not happen. while trying to help someone, he in fact got knifed in the face and lost an eye.

the adoption system is about to drop their ass since they're nearly an adult and no one's too happy about the aggravated assault. fate drops him at Nille's doorstep, who takes pity on him but insists she's only housing his ass for some extra cash. Bonnie acquires another felon a sibling!

showing up to school looking like shit (anxiety, no sleep), with an eyepatch and a natural silent intensity, no one really questions if he's stabbed someone. everyone's pretty sure he's killed someone actually.

Mira and Isa are charged with helping the new local mass murderer get settled, and they slowly start to uncover the real Siffrin hiding under all that apprehension. Odile, the school nurse, is all kinds of queer so she's got these kids' backs. as the story progresses, they each have their own character arc around biting back on authority (Isa gets the courage to transition, and Mira stops straightening her hair)

what about everyone else's outfits? that's the fun part! SIFFRIN IS DOING ALL THIS PHANTOM THIEF SHIT ALONE

well not totally alone. they've got a weird cat now. they can talk (Siffrin wishes they didn't) and has a concerning amount of knowledge about the metaverse for being an amnesiac! (this worries them too, they just try not to show it)

the OTHER fun part is that Siffrin is doing half this phantom thief stuff in the metaverse, half in the real world. good news is, he has the magic metaverse stuff irl! bad news is he has the magic metaverse stuff irl. yeah it helps keep him from getting caught, but law enforcement starts rising quickly to military arms when you start breaking physics while also being a theater kid about it.

the meat of the plot is surrounding Siffrin's struggle to fit two lives into one, and how his friends are WAY too perceptive to keep this up forever. but they have to, because they've only barely convinced their friends to accept them. if they knew he was some evil freaky magic terrorist (he's not, but like, who would believe him when he's doing seemingly evil freaky magic terrorist things!), they'd turn him in, they'd be scared, they'd HATE him!!

btw there is no rival for Siffrin. he's his own rival. lets give the "I'm terrified I'm manipulating my friends" twink actual mind alteration powers and see what happens :))

[byoldervine]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

[crabussy]

handy checklist of why you shouldn't watch the new lilo and stitch movie (even hatewatching it. don't do that. do something fun instead)

completely destroys the entire moral of the movie by making nani leave lilo alone at the end. holy shit.

most if not all allusions to colonisation being harmful to hawai'i is gone or changed to be more "palatable"

beloved character got turned into a shallow villain who doesn't even get redeemed all because they COULDN'T AFFORD TO ANIMATE THE ORIGINAL VILLAIN???????

the gay-coded couple get completely destroyed (one of them turns out to be evil and irredeemable. and we don't get the drag scene anymore. they killed their queerness entirely)

lilo's autistic traits are extremely toned down to make her more "likeable"

the pacing is abysmal and they've removed a lot of important plot points (stitch's ugly duckling scenes for example)

a lot of characters have been completely rewritten. agent bubbles is no longer a deep and interesting multifaceted character. he's now just kind of mean and unfunny for no reason???

stitch's model isn't even faithful to the original movie. THEY PUGGED HIM!!!!!!!!

all the beautiful lighting and compositions from the original movie got put in a WOODCHIPPER. boy I sure do love bright white lighting instead of gorgeous pink dusky hues for the surfing scene

the actor for nani isn't native hawaiian. she's white and filipino and also WAY paler than nani in the original movie. she seems lovely but I think maybe for the movie about native hawaiian oppression they could have cast a hawaiian actor

stitch's character is flanderised and toned down too. he STARTS OFF loveable and less violent and antagonistic. instead of how he was in the original movie- an aggressive creature that BECOMES loving and caring as the movie progresses. his entire arc gets squashed flat so that he can be cute and cuddly for marketing

lilo's whole thing about photographing tourists as a coping mechanism for feeling like a novelty attraction to tourists is just Gone. they make the guy she takes a photo of hawaiian for no reason when he was originally a white tourist

disney made it

disney has a resort on hawai'i that spans 21 acres of hawaiian land with close to 400 rooms that costs over 600USD a night for the cheapest room. this movie is a one hour and forty eight minute advertisement for a resort that contributes to hawai'i's struggles with over-tourism.

[destinysbounty]

Although I am definitely disappointed about Zane's gradual flanderization as the series progresses, you do have to admit it's also kinda hilarious within a meta context.

Like. Zane is so insanely "Special Unique Protagonist" coded that in almost any other story that's exactly what he'd be. He's a robot and a ninja and he has prophetic visions and ice powers and fun robot falcon sidekick and a bunch of evil clones and a possibly evil twin brother and a badass robot wife and his own leitmotif, and later he learns how to use his robot abilities to shapeshift/cast tech-based illusions on himself, and he's conditionally immortal but also effectively the most killable person on the team.

He's routinely victimized and rescued, as if he was written by an angsty 12 year old who wants to experience the catharsis of comfort vicariously through him. He's excessively self-sacrificial with a martyr complex and is always being dramatically mourned by those who love him, a super smart and wise genius but also deeply kind and loving to a fault, loves animals, can canonically sing/dance/cook pretty well, and according to the Core shorts he is also the team's living embodiment of Compassion.

I say this with all the love and affection in my heart, but you can't tell me Zane isn't at least a little bit Mary Sue-coded (and I love him for it). Or at the very least a Disney princess.

And yet. For so much of the series, he's pretty much chilling in the background like he's Just Some GuyTM. Like, don't mind Zary Suelien over there, he's just minding his business. Character development? Plot relevance? Narrative focus? Never heard of it.

I like to think Zane tried out the protagonist thing for a few minutes, decided it didn't agree with him, and then happily faded into the background to let everyone else take the full brunt of the plot instead. And although it absolutely didn't work because he's quite literally doomed by the narrative, I gotta say I respect the effort nonetheless.

Yeah, I'd definitely prefer if he wasn't flanderized so egregiously all the time - but you can't say it's not at least a little silly.

[snoopyhq]

Jealous viktor + reader 🙏

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ so with my best, my very best, i set you free

(i love laufey 🗣️ her cover of "i wish you love" with the icelandic orchestra? 2:49 of heaven)

type: viktor x reader

summary: headcanons and a drabble of jealous viktor. headcanons are pre-relationship, the drabble is the established relationship ✪ ꨄ︎

word count: 2415

a/n: OMG FIRST ASK I'M SO HONORED I'M SO EXCITED YIPPEE !!! will be working on the others whenever i have the time, but TRUST i am plotting and scheming <3 any other askers, feel free to drop by! i hope i did your request justice, dear anon.

It was unfair to you, and to him, in his most miserable moments of pure self-pity

Viktor envied those who were healthy. He wished he wasn't born with the circumstances he was dealt. He would trade anything to spend one day with a respiratory system that didn't choke him from the inside out every time he took a breath

He was jealous of you, initially, when you first met

You seemed to have it so easy

Easy laughter, easy conversation, easy friends. You had an established life, you were loved, and you held yourself together with such ease that he sometimes wonders how much you're really holding back

He feels bad for assuming you were dealing with awful problems. But it was very likely. I mean, who was truly that... happy? Well off? At ease with themself and their role in the world? He was probably projecting

And then you somehow, by all the miracles a human could possibly be granted, managed to worm your way into his life and secure yourself there too

Viktor vehemently rejected you at first. He was much like a stray cat. You just gotta continuously give them love on their own terms, and often times, it was slow, and that concept applied to Viktor too

It started with small things. Brief greetings where you called him by name

"Good morning, Viktor."

"Nice to see you here today, Viktor."

"Viktor, you have a good night ok? Get home safe."

Including him in conversations. Commentary about how you two just happened to be in the same place at the same time. The library, a cafe, randomly in the middle of a bustling street

You always had that breezy way of acknowledging things. What a nice coincidence. It was all genuine

You were pleased to be surprised by his presence

Wordlessly holding the door for him, even if you really didn't have to wait. But it was never a big deal, so

He pushed it away. Brushed it off, and tried to forget about it, but those little moments kept circling through his mind like an irritating tape he couldn't dislodge from the disc player, and turning the TV off wasn't doing shit when those scenes were basically burned onto the screen

Like the natural progression of the lunar cycle, Viktor found himself unconsciously expecting you in his life

He can't remember a time when you weren't

Your greetings, your little gestures of kindness, that skill of small talk that meant so, so much to him were cherished like an altar of worship

While he was in no way, shape, or form completely opening himself up to befriending any more people, he began to feel much more natural with you and others you gave your time to

Which brought him to his current bit of emotional turbulence

That prickling in his chest whenever he saw you with other people, giving them your precious words and quality time? Yeah, he shouldn't be feeling this

You were allowed to have other friends! You had people in your life before him, and it doesn't mean you consider him any less just because you spent a moment or two with someone else!

He would tighten his grip on his cane, those mantras feverishly chanting in his mind as he walked in circles, attempting to reign his emotions into a more rational state

He had no right to feel jealous like this, but he couldn't help it

Jayce was his only real companion before, and now that he was a council member, he had less time for Viktor. He had the city to nurture and shape, a big responsibility. The loneliness of the lab was barely a noticeable shift from before

Now, you arrived as if by careless chance, giving him another glimpse, another hit of company, and it was maddeningly cruel to have those doses be in such short time frames

He was given what he needed and wanted, but never fully

Accepting that reality was going to be harder than accepting you truly wishing to be around him, in all his sardonic glory, his blunt nature that had most other people walking away. Just not you

To grapple with this selfish desire was humiliating

He was fully aware of how innately human it all was. If only it were easier. Someday.

For now, he would wait and bask in all the attention and friendship you offered him so willingly

You stood in front of your mirror, going over your carefully put together look one last time. You wanted to look good, and having the outfit fall into place like how you planned it in your head always gave you an extra boost of happiness before you left the house. Straightening the collar of your top one last time, you were finally satisfied.

Viktor was waiting for you in the living room. He stood up when you finally appeared, greeting you with a kiss to your cheek and a murmured "You look enchanting, as always."

You laughed and hugged him.

"And you're dashing, as per usual."

With your arm linked through his, the two of you went on your way. He had planned the date tonight. The winding route led to the sparkling, five-tiered fountain that marked the center of the shopping fair. The flowing water sparkled and danced beneath the fairy lights strung through the evergreens surrounding the space, and orchestral music floated up from where the quintet performed.

You two often went here after a long, stressful week, dining at one of the outdoor tables and idly chatting before hitting a couple stores. Most of the time, it would be the bookshop, the local woodcarver, and then the bakery. You had made it a tradition to buy one another a sweet treat, and it was always a delight to see if your guesses of enjoyment would be met or not.

There was certainly not a lack of other people around you, many of whom were also hand in hand. The center was a popular spot for local students and couples to unwind and spend time together.

When you both had your fill of sights and perusing your respective comforts, you made your way back to the fountain. The musicians had struck up a lively waltz, and many were dancing along now. Both of you shared a look, and moved to join in, albeit towards the edge of the crowds.

Dancing with Viktor was one of your favorite activities. He moved with such assuredness and care for your space, making him all the more captivating in his graces. The respectful placement of his hand on your waist, never going too far and risking your discomfort in public, and never straying away lest he appeared bored, Viktor made sure you were his priority.

After the song concluded, you spun Viktor around slowly to the rhythm of the music drawing to a close, dipping him into a kiss during the final note.

His cheeks were slightly flushed, both from the exertion and from your affection.

"I'm going to grab a drink. We can head home after, if you'd like," you told him, head leaning on his shoulder as he walked with you back up the steps.

"That's perfectly fine. I can hold your bag while you do that."

Oh, Viktor. Ever the gentleman.

You went inside the establishment, and ordered yourself a shirley temple with sweet cream, fully planning to share with him. You knew he had a penchant for the more saccharine in terms of taste. While you waited to order, another patron joined you after placing their order.

"Busy place tonight, isn't it?" they commented.

You turned your attention to them, surprised a stranger was making conversation with you, but you didn't mind. All harmless small talk, after all. You would be leaving soon anyways when your order was finished, so why not pass the time with pleasantries?

"It's one of the most popular cafes around here," you replied. "Friday nights always means live music, so people love to flock here. I should know. I frequent here often." you finished with a smile, and received one in return.

They continued engaging you in conversation, and you soon realized it was taking a bit for your drink. A shirley temple wasn't complicated, and you were worried something was wrong. Maybe they were short-staffed tonight? Did an accident occur in the back?

"Are you worried about your drink?"

"No, not really. More so the workers here," you were honest. Some of them were fellow students you see at the academy, and others knew you as a regular, and you had grown quite fond of the staff as they were of you.

"That's a surprise. You're very sweet."

Their order quickly arrived, and they bid you farewell before departing into the night. You walked up to the counter, asking if everyone was ok. The barista reassured you, saying it was only going to take a little while, and that everything is alright now. Relieved, you went back to your perch.

Outside, Viktor was waiting anxiously. This was taking a lot longer than he had anticipated.

When someone emerged from the cafe, he was tempted to get up and ask them if they'd seen you in there.

Yes, my partner. About this tall, very beautiful eyes, a smile you can't miss. Have you seen...?

God. He was contemplating approaching a stranger just to inquire about you. Luckily (or was it?) for him, they must've sensed him sneaking glances at the cafe and at them, because they approached him cheerily.

"You look a little lost. Need some help?" they asked.

"Oh, it's alright. I'm just waiting for someone."

At that, they perked up.

"It wouldn't happen to be someone wearing the same colored blouse as your vest would it?"

Yes. It was. He confirmed it.

"That's perfect actually! I was just talking to them, and since you know them, do you think they would be interested in exchanging contact information with me? They were quite lovely company, and I wouldn't mind getting to know them better."

Viktor could feel his heart drop and the temperature in his soul rise several degrees. What was going on? Where were you? What had happened in those minutes that you were gone?

"I will... ask them," he attempted to keep his tone even. "Mind giving me your contact information to pass along?"

The stranger happily handed Viktor a piece of paper, their messy scrawl sending a sting of irritation through him. That penmanship was not worthy of you, and would certainly not compare to the intricate scripting of his own handwritten notes and letters to you.

When you finally rejoined him, you could tell immediately something was off. You questioned him about it, and he huffed, telling you not to worry about it as you walked home. He didn't even pay any mind to the bag that hung on your arm, too caught up in his insecurities and worries.

That stranger was so much like you. So approachable. Good conversationalist. He couldn't help but imagine a scenario of you two getting along a little too well, and that made something deep inside him hurt. Clearly, he wasn't as good as keeping his thoughts off his face as he believed, or you had simply gotten better at understanding him, because you promptly asked him again.

"Come on, Viktor. Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?"

"If you knew the full extent of what I'm thinking of, you wouldn't be so quick to call my mind beautiful," he grumbled tersely.

"You can't judge my reaction for me. Spill."

He bit the inside of his cheek. Finally, he confessed. It felt like ripping out stitches from his tongue.

"... someone at the coffee shop. They asked me if I knew you, and then asked if you would be interested in their contact information."

At that, you raised an incredulous eyebrow. Ah. You were blissfully oblivious of the jarring events.

"Viktor, I promise nothing is wrong. We were both waiting for our drinks, and they happened to be making small talk with me. That's all. I love you with my whole heart, and no one else can ever--will not ever--compare."

His heart fluttered. He knew that was the realistic truth, but it was nice to hear reassurance from you anyways.

"You mean it?" he asked.

"I mean it," you said sincerely.

Setting your bags and drink on the nearby bench, you swept him into your arms and twirled him around beneath the streetlight's warm glow.

"I love you," you declared, hands holding his face tightly. Your thumb brushed against the beauty mark above his lip. "And if you ever need reminders of that, you tell me immediately. I will literally drop everything and make sure your doubt disappears completely for as long as I can hold it back."

He gazed into your eyes, his own now slightly misted. Their glossiness reflected warmth and adoration as he took in your face. Seeing the conviction there did something to him. He didn't know what, but he found himself giving in to the urge to just close the distance and kiss you right then and there, open street be damned.

It began to snow. He only realized when he parted from you, the taste of your chapstick still lingering. He looked up, watching the delicate flakes be illuminated by the warm, golden glow. If there was a visualization for the love he felt, it would be that he decided. It all just built and built from all the little things, and filled him with such life it almost hurt.

"We should go home," he whispered, looking back at you.

"Oh yeah, we should. I was going to tell you!" you gasped, running back for your drink and the bag. "They gave me extra cakes and rolls. The last ones of the specialty desserts before their next seasonal delights, so we can share them." you beamed.

"Really? That's quite generous of them."

He wasn't surprised. You were just so damn lovable. He would give you all the baked goods you desired and more, if only for another smile from you directed at him. His fingers intertwined with yours, fondness consuming him as you chatted about the different flavors of the desserts, which ones you were most excited about, and which ones you think he'd like.

He had to agree with your assessments. A dark chocolate and orange mousse did sound quite appealing for him. He already knew he'd let you have the last bite, regardless.

"Oh, and Viktor?"

"Hmm?"

"You can throw away the contact. I don't need it."

I already have you.

[sixxels]

Perfect

Satoru taking his shy!girlfriend's virginity. ‧₊˚

warning! contains smut (with plot)! minors dni !! m.list !!

To say that Satoru Gojo was completely and utterly infatuated with his shy girlfriend would be the understatement of the century.

And he made sure everyone knew it.

When Satoru wasn't busy boasting to his best friend Suguru, a very tired Nanami, and a very uninterested Shoko about how utterly mesmerising you were, he was worshiping the ground in which you walked on in those adorable little heels, the ones that barely helped you reach past the top of his big, broad chest.

You were the epitome of adorable. With your smaller stature and soft expressive features, one little, innocent look from you had the power to send Satoru through the roof. He'd spent millions of dollars from his trust fund solely on you, whether that be the pretty sparkly makeup he adored, intently watching you apply your 'too faced' gloss and your glittery eyeshadow, or the massive amounts of short frilly dresses and silky lace nightgowns he just loved to see you in.

"Satoru... I told you I don't need any more baby, please save your money..."

You'd plead, but it always went in one ear and out the other, because who is Satoru Gojo if not eccentric in everything he does? Spoiling his precious little girlfriend included.

But what really captivated him was just how shy you could get.

The two of you had met in highschool, you came late in his third year, quietly stuttering as Yaga asked you to introduce yourself to the small class of him, Shoko and Suguru. Watching you intently, as your cute lashes fluttered and your cheeks flushed an endearing pink, he just knew he had to have you all to himself.

Sure it might of taken him close to a year to get more than a sentance out of you without a single flushed face or stuttered word, but hey! it was progress.

By the middle of your fourth year at Jujutsu Tech, Satoru had successfully captured your heart and has cherished it dearly ever since, never being anything but kind and always taking things slow. He dropped his frisky lifestyle, the only girl who he could find attractive nower days was you anyways.

After all, he had bagged the most adorable girl he'd genuinely ever seen, he'd be damned if he ever scared you off with his overbearing confidence.

He was the loud, obnoxious Satoru Gojo around everyone else, but with you? he was the sweetest, most patient man you had ever met.

Even now, after a year together, he'd catch the way you'd roll on your heels and shyly play with the hem of whatever cute skirt you were wearing when you were too scared to ask him something, or how your face would twist with embarrassment when he kissed you too passionately. (not that you didn't like it, it's just having such an attractive man kissing you like you're made of gold is a little intimidating, that's all!)

And god, he loved it.

Sure, the idea of a young couple, just out of high school, not doing much other than softly making out was a strange notion to some, but Satoru couldn't be any more content in his relationship with you. You were everything he could ever want after all, adorable, loving, and funny in your own little way. Sexual pleasure was just another silly layer of affection, and he received bucketloads of love and kindness from you already.

Of course the the idea of bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you raw did cross his mind whenever you'd have a five course meal prepared for him when he got back from long missions; or when you'd shyly whisper, "surprise toru." while holding a tray of the newest baked goods you'd whipped up while he was out teaching, but nevertheless he was just fine with whatever you were comfortable with!

Satoru knew it was because you felt insecure of your naked body, not wanting him to get so close to you just to leave after sharing an act so intimate. He knew you were terrified that if you opened up that part of yourself to him, he'd be disgusted and decide to up and leave.

Not that he would ever even dream of such a thing, considering he had already planned your entire wedding, honeymoon, and names for the future daughters you were going to have. But he digresses.

Each night you'd get into one of your short little night dresses and crawl into bed next to him, nuzzling into the side of his body waiting for him to throw his arm over your smaller body, caging you in like he did every single night. Cuddling you close and kissing your forehead every few minutes while softly raking his hands through your hair and whispering sweet words. Each night was the same pure bliss of love and affection, and each and every night Satoru had to physically suppress the urge to start squeezing the life out of you while letting out groans of love from pure cuteness aggression.

Every night was the same, so imagine the white haired males surprise when he finds you anxiously standing at the end of your shared bed, rocking back and forth on your heels while looking off to the side shyly, not making a move to get into bed, but not making an effort to talk either.

Satoru sat up, shirtless with only a pair of grey sweats on, legs thrown carelessly infront of him as he leaned against the head board.

He tilted his head curiously, strands of delicate white hair slightly obscured his view of you shyly standing infront of him. He shuffled to the edge of the bed in-front of you and reached his hands out to touch your waist gently.

"Are you okay sweetheart? You can tell me if you're feeling anxious, baby girl."

He softly rubbed the skin above your hips with one hand, and guided your face to look at him with the other. When your eyes met, he could see that you look scared, like you wanted something but couldn't muster up the courage to ask.

Satoru let out a small chuckle with a soft look on his face. "Baby, you can tell me anything okay. I promise i won't ever judge you my sweet girl."

He used the back of his hand to rub your cheek, and you bit your lower lip trying to make yourself settle.

"Satoru... I.. Wanna try something..."

It came out almost as a mumble but your boyfriend was trained, he heard every word.

"Oh yeah? What do you wanna try baby? Baby squid? Bluefin tuna? Cavi-"

He was cut off by your smaller finger shushing him, as you slipped into his lap, straddling him.

"No Toru... not food."

You looked up into his sharp blue eyes with your bigger, innocent looking ones. He kissed your lips gently and pulled away to look back at you.

"Then what is it my love? What do you want, anything you want is yours, okay?"

It took you a while to spit it out, but it eventually slipped past your lips, a mumbled mess in his neck as you nuzzled in.

"I wanna... try having... you know... Sex."

Satoru's heart stopped. His breathing felt heavy as he gulped thickly, all the heat from his body rushing down to his cock almost immediately after he heard what you said.

"Y-you do?..."

He asked cautiously. Never had he ever heard you even say the word sex, now you wanted to have it? With him? Right now?

He was sure this was a dream, the fantasy of finally taking his beautiful girlfriend's virginity had been a hot one in his mind lately.

You only nodded into his chest, still too shy to show your face as your smaller hand clung anxiously to his bicep.

"Is that, like, okay?"

You asked shyly, he was almost instant in his response.

"Yes! yes baby that's more than okay. I'm just a little shocked is all... uhm, what brought this up, huh?"

He was suddenly feeling sweaty, almost anxious thinking about how he was going to be your first, it was eating him up. You, his sweet little girlfriend was putting so much trust and love into him, you were letting him take you, he couldn't fuck this up!

He felt you shift in his lap before responding.

"I just... feel comfortable enough to ask I guess. Not that you don't make me feel comfortable or anything I just- you know! I-"

"I know baby."

He shut your worrying up real fast.

"Just let me take care of you sweets. Just relax for me, okay? I promise I'll do my damn best to make this the most incredible night of your life. Alright honey?"

With that, he slowly switched your position, now he was hovering above you, caressing your face as he kissed your cheek slowly, moving down to the curve of your jaw, trailing down to your neck. God it was a blessing. His lips felt so delicious as they danced across your skin in a feverish manner. Sucking and nipping at spots that made release small pornographic moans.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. Satoru Gojo was pissing himself. His perfect, innocent girl who he loved and cherished more than the air he breathed was putting so much trust in him.

Gojos cock ached with each and every sound you made, never had he heard such lewd things coming from his sweet girl, he was hungry for more. It was definitely becoming a new craving he knew he would never ever get over.

With each soft nip his hands moved down to hook the bottom of your nightdress, slowing pulling it up your plush thighs.

"Can I take this off, baby?"

You bit your lip anxiously, but that anxiety disappeared when you felt his gently gaze. You nodded your head softly, earning a smile from him as he effortlessly pulled the night gown off your small frame.

'Holy shit.'

Satoru had never seen a body more perfect in his entire damn life. Although you still had your panties and bra on concealing your most precious areas, it all suddenly felt so real. He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks rage a deep red.

You noticed his flustered state and immediately covered yourself with your arms with a small, adorable frown.

"I'm sorry... i'm sorry toru this was a bad idea don't look at me please, I just-"

That made him panic, without thinking he covered your mouth with his hand before you could get another word out, making your eyes flicker.

"You're the most breathtaking girl I have ever seen in my entire damn life."

Your heart stopped at his words, gaze softening as his hand lowered from your mouth, and started to trace circles on the soft skin of your tummy.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want baby. Tell me to stop, and i'll stop. Immediately. Sweetheart i promise you, I want this, I want you, all of you. You could never be anything short of perfect in my eyes, okay? So don't you dare think for even a second that I don't find you the most attractive woman I've ever laid eyes on."

It would be pathetic to cry, you knew that. Yet you couldn't help the fear that fell down the side of your perfect cheek.

"Toru... I love you."

You said softly looking into his beautiful eyes. His expression softened and he wiped away the stray tear with the pad of his thumb.

"I love you more, baby."

With that, he continued his previous nips, working his way inch by inch down your body until he was met with the lace of your bra. He lifted his eyes to meet yours, asking for approval. You hesitated before reaching a hand behind your back and unclasping your bra for him, and as soon as the fabric was pulled away from your breast, his lips found one of your hard nipples, sucking and rolling the aching bud with a satisfied groan.

The noises he was pulling from your sweet lips from only playing with your cute tits was clouding his mind, how would you react when he actually started getting all up inside?

He kept his assult on your breasts steady as his hands roamed every inch of your body with a tight grip, one of his long slender fingers hooked into the band of your lace panties, teasingly tracing lines back and forth along the skin just beneath. You looked at him with big pouty eyes, big plush lips slightly agape.

"Is this okay, pretty girl?"

He whispered gently, searching your eyes for any sign of discomfort. When he saw your small smile and nod, he leaned down, kissing your lips tenderly.

"Use your words, baby."

He cupped your breast as you bit your lip, answering through a soft breath.

"You can take them off Toru... This is okay."

He kissed your lips once more, before pulling your panties off completely, discarding them on the floor.

"God... Your pussy's fucking perfect..."

He knew that was a pretty valgar thing to say to someone like you, but he couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips when he saw you try to push your thighs together, obviously getting impatient.

You looked to the side, embarrassment crossing your features as you cleared your throat, silky voice coming out as a small whisper.

"Can you... can you touch me?"

Your face was beat red as the words fell from your mouth. Satoru lightly chuckled and squeezed your inner thigh from his position hovering above you.

"My poor impatient girl, we have to go slow for your first time sweetness."

He laughed lowly and turned your pretty face to look at him.

"Mouth or fingers, baby?"

You shy away from the question for a few seconds before responding by pointing to his hand.

"Ah, fingers it is."

Pleasure jolted through your lower stomach as he dragged a long slender finger over your clit, slowly circling the sensitive bud with the pad of his ring finger. You tried to stop the whiny moan that racked through your throat as he applied more pressure.

"Is this okay? Tell me if anything feels weird sweet girl."

You nodded and looked up at him with want etched into your eyes.

Smiling softly, he caught your lips in a messy kiss, picking up the pace of his movements until you were moaning like a pornstar into his mouth.

"You're doing so well baby, so perfect for me. So sexy all fucked out from just abit of rubbing."

He was relishing in the moment. His perfect little princess who was always so shy, always so prude, laid out bare just for him.

"Toru you're so- so good at this- oh god."

The string of whimpers that fell from your lips as he rubbed your clit like a pro was making his already raging hard on swell with heat.

"Mmm baby, you're so damn pretty doll, so sweet, letting me treat you how you deserve."

He just loves you so much. You were his angel, his piece of heaven, now he was making you feel just as good as you made him feel just by existing.

Satoru was pulled out of his awe-struck state when he felt your tiny hand gripping his chest tighter and tighter.

"G'na- gosh Toru! I think I'm gonna-"

That was all you managed to mutter before letting out an adorable moan, legs squeezing together as your body racked with a small shake as your high crashed over you. Satoru slowed down his pace and he kissed your cheek and whispered words of encouragement.

"That's it baby. You did so well for me. Shh don't worry about the mess just yet beautiful."

Once you came down from your high, your boyfriend was quick to get you all hot and bothered again, kissing your lips deep with passion, filled with an underlying sense of lust. You pulled back to catch your breath and looked at him, now in his arms naked.

"That was really nice Toru... You're really good with your uhm fingers."

You looked away bashfully as he cupped your breasts, pinching the nipples.

"You did all the work baby. You were so good for me, so responsive, I think you deserve a little more."

As soon as the words came, you could feel his clothed yet very obvious bludge pressing against your wet cunt, your slick wetting the grey fabric.

Shit, he was massive.

You sucked in a breath as he started grinding his cock against you, holding you hips down hard, keeping your legs spread wide open for him as he thrusted his tented dick against your pussy. Satoru let out a deep groan at the friction; you snaked your hand down his chest and to the skin of his v-line, pulling at the waistband of the pants.

"Take them off... Toru..."

He smirked and pulled your hand away.

"Not yet baby, you're not nearly as prepped as you need to be... Not yet. I know if I have it out I won't be able to hold back from just fucking you raw."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, he begun backing up on the bed until he was situated between your thighs, spreading your legs open effortlessly with his big muscular arms.

"Gonna taste you, is that okay, sweetheart?"

You nodded with your bottom lip inbetween your teeth, he slowly started to lick at your clit.

"You taste so sexy, baby."

Before you could question how somthing could 'taste sexy', you were cut off by one of his fingers plunging into your gummy walls as he pressed the flat of his tongue hard against your bud.

"Fuck hah Toru!"

He grinned wide against your cunt hearing such vulgar language. You never swore, so he was obviously doing something right.

"Shit, you're real fucking tight baby girl."

Continuing his work with both his fingers and mouth, he could feel your body starting to shake with pleasure as you moaned his name over and over and over again...

Hearing your perfect voice moaning his name threw him over the edge, he grunted against your clit and begun finger fucking you like a man starved.

"What a good girl. Keep on singing my name sweetheart, you sound so perfect right now."

Your moans were becoming louder with each thrust; driving him insane, they were just so adorable.

He continued working you open with his thick digit, adding in another to stretch you out wide enough to fit his cock in later.

Satoru's fingers felt heavenly, they were hitting that spongy spot deep inside your cunt with expert precision, pushing you further and further over the edge as they curled and twisted inside you.

"I can't Toru, it's too much! hah, i'm gonna cum again oh my god!-"

He smiled against your pretty, fat lips, curling his fingers up into your g-spot perfectly.

"O-oh my go-d Toru!"

Your second high of the night crashed over you, somehow more taxing than the first, your juices dripped down satoru's chin as he lifted his head to greet your eyes.

He made it a point to slowly suck the slick off his fingers infront of you.

"You're being such a good girl, baby. I'm really proud of you for taking everything so well for me."

He wiped his chin off with a tissue from the bedside table and discarded it in the small table side bin next to it.

"Think you deserve the main course now, huh baby?"

Caressing your cheek with his thumb as you finally calm down from your second high, he palmed his aching cock through his sweats, abs rippling as his back curved slightly.

Sucking in a breath of confidence, you pulled his hand away from his dick and used whatever left over strength you could muster to sit up and look him in the eyes.

"I wanna try making you feel good this time Toru."

Satoru was caught off gaurd but quickly recovered his composure and cleared his throat.

"Anything for you baby. Do whatever you want, okay?"

You gave him a small smile and nodded, shifting yourself to your knees at the foot of the bed, ushering him to sit on the edge. He obliged and peered down at your submissive looking form.

On your knees, naked, just for him.

God she's gonna be the death of me.

You shyly tug at his waistband with your cute hands and he smiles while helping you pull them off. With one tug, they drop to the floor along with his boxers and his long thick cock springs free.

Your mouth waters at the sight of it, it's big. Like, really big. The tip is an angry red, with two thick veins running down the length. Hot.

Gulping at the sight, you look up to see Satoru already staring at you like you're a bunny he's ready to devour. You're not too sure how to do it really, but you remember Shoko telling you one time not to use teeth, that was a start.

While keeping eye contact with Satoru (which was very hard for you, so he should be pretty thankful for all the effort...) you slowly grasp the shaft and kiss up his length. Satoru's eyes almost roll back at the feeling of you finnaly touching his cock. Every night he's spent in the shower fisting his dick to the thought of you beneath him so prettily just like this, it was all coming to life.

"Baby girl, you look so s-sweet hah down there."

His words soon turn to mush as you wrap your pretty little pink lips around the tip, trying your best not to catch your teeth on his sensitive skin.

"H-hollow out your mouth baby- fuck."

You follow his instructions and close your eyes as you try your best to take him deeper inside your mouth. You almost jump as you hear the deep guttural moan that pours out when you take him down. You take that as a good sign and bob your head back up, and then back down again, his salty pre-cum hitting the back of your throat.

"Fuck sweetheart. Just like that."

You almost smile around his cock when he starts patting your head like a dog, telling you you're doing a good job. You pick up the pace and use your tongue to swirl around the tip, going faster and faster until he's moaning your name in that deep sexy voice of his.

You look up at him and lick up and down his shaft, kissing the messy tip and licking his slit. He sucks in a breath as he watches you worship his cock like he's the god of your world, you look so fucking pretty all needy for his dick.

"I could look at you like this all fucking day princess."

You pick up the pace, pulling moans from deep inside his chest, he's almost embarrassed at how hot and bothered you're making him.

He can feel his release fast approaching, he can't handle the sight of his beautiful, innocent girl sucking his raging cock so innnocently, it's turning him feral. He know he shouldn't, but he can't help but grab the back of your head and push you down onto his cock just as he's about to come.

"Holy fuck! I'm gonna come sweetheart, fuck i'm gonna cum baby!"

With one final thrust, he comes right down your cute little throat, pouring his seed straight into your stomach. You moaning around his cock didn't help his blissful high calm down any quicker though, it made him half hard again.

Pulling off his wet dick with a 'pop', you stick your tongue out, showing him that you've swallowed him all down like a good girl. Satoru clicked his tongue and raked a hand through his damp locks.

"Fuck baby, for your first time sucking dick that was incredible."

You smile up and him, but his eyes only fall to your bare chest and perky nipples. With one swoop of his arms, you're thrown over his shoulder and back onto the bed, your small body bouncing on impact. His gaze held something primal.

"I've never felt this turned on in my entire life, y/n. You're really testing my limits here. Who knew my sweet baby girl could suck dick like a porn star."

He smirked to himself as he watched you shy away at his vulgar choice of words.

"Awe poor baby, you just came twice from my fingers and made me bust a load down your throat, now you're shy over some words? that just won't do."

He grabbed your waist with one hand and pinned it down beneath him with the strength of 10 men. The other grabbed his cock as he rubbed the tip into the folds of your soaking went cunt.

"Think it's time for you to finally take my dick sweetheart? i've worked you open so good, and you're dripping wet for me. See, she's clenching around nothing, wants my cock so bad."

He let out a low laugh as you squirmed in his grasp, pussy aching for some sort of attention again.

"I want you so bad Satoru. Please, please take me."

You say in a voice so uncharacteristically needy it catches him off guard, but only works to widen his smirk.

"Well since you asked so nicely, my sweet girl."

He pushed the tip in slow, stretching your entrance so wide it felt almost painful.

"Shh, shh, It'll fell good soon baby, I promise it will okay? Just relax sweetheart."

He cooed lovingly, grunting as he inched deeper and deeper inside, earning some very nice sounds from your pretty little mouth.

"F-feels so full Toru... You're so b-big hah."

He inches in faster, eventually bottoming out, you can't help but slap a hand over your mouth to try and tame the lewd noises crashing out of your mouth, you felt so full.

He slowly begun to thrust, deep, slow, passionate.

"How's that baby girl? Is that okay? Good fuck good pace?"

You could only nod in response as whimpers waterfall from your lips. Satoru smiles, seeing you so fucked out made him insane, he couldn't hold back anymore.

His thrusts became deeper, faster, his grip on your waist tightened as he jerked your body back and forth on his cock, pounding into you so so good.

"Gonna fill you up mm real nice baby, real fucking nice."

Your body was being jerked up and down on the mattress as his thrusts got harder, fucking you stupid as you moaned messily into your palm, eyes rolling back as your cute little lashes fluttered. Your perfect make-up was long worn off which made Satorus cock pulse.

He had you completely drowning in the pleasure, your body was jelly in his hands as he watched your face twist in bliss, god he wish he could frame your expression. Never in his life had he been so mesmerised.

"mm' g'na... fuck toru mm gonna cum.."

Your words were barely coherent as you mumbled through choked moans.

"Me too baby, just a little longer sweet girl, can you handle that? I'm so close baby, so damn close- fuck!"

His pace slowed as hot ropes of warm cum spilled into your tight pussy, groaning deeply, Satoru fucked the cum into you as he felt your orgasm flutter around his cock, accompanied with your adorable little moans.

The bed was a complete mess of fluids as the smell of sex hung in the air, Satoru immediately kissed your flushed face and gently stroked your head.

"You okay baby? Was that okay my love? Tell me if anything hurts, alright? God i hope i wasn't too rough."

Your eyes focused after awhile of being lolling around mindlessly in your head as you focused on the pleasure, you blinked a few times and your little hands grasped at his biceps shakily.

"Toru..."

"Yes, angel?"

You looked into his eyes and he choked at the look of pure love and happiness you held.

"Thank you... That was really nice baby... I'm glad y-you were my first."

The words were abit slurred, stuttered and uneven, but god did they make his heart swoon. Not long after, you passed out in his arms from exhaustion, it almost gave Satoru a heart attack until he realised that he had literally just fucked your brains out. An expression holding nothing but love and cherish fell over his features, he kissed your delicate little face and picked you up, carrying you to the couch where you could lie without being surrounded by bodily fluid.

He quickly ran to the ensuite and used a tissue and warm water to clean his member off before throwing on some fresh boxers and a new pair of sweats. He then grabbed a wash cloth and squirted some bait wash onto it, wetting the piece of fabric a with warm water and running back to the couch to your sleeping form.

He gently washed over your entire body with the warm soapy washcloth, getting rid of the sex smell, as well as the lingering sweat. After you were all clean, he made sure you slip you very slowly into some comfortable clean pyjamas.

Using his insane speed he managed to strip the bed of its dirty sheets, remake the bed and air out the whole room in around a minute flat. Once the room was liveable again, he wasted no time gently placing you into it.

Once he himself was clean of all bodily fluids and smelt of his usual sandal wood aroma, he slipped into bed right next to you, taking your small form into his arm as if you were a delicate flower.

He felt you stir slightly and cuddle into him like a little puppy seeking warmth. He couldn't help but litter your precious face with thousands of feather like kisses, fawning over you in your sleep like women do when they see babies on the street.

He spent the rest of his night kissing every mark he left on your perfect body, tracing his fingers over every dip and curve of your bones, whispering sweet nothings into your ears while you slept, so even in your dreams you could feel his love and comfort.

He took the day off of work tomorrow, he was determined to spend the whole day pampering you like the perfect little princess you were, and he'd go to whatever lengths it took to spoil you rotten.

After all, you had just given yourself to him, you had trusted him with your purity, your innocence, and he'd be damned if he didn't give you the world on a silver platter in return for such a blessing.

It was perfect.

[narnian-neverlander]

For You, Always [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.” He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

Word Count: 4,7k

Warnings: slight angst, self-worth issues (both of them need a freaking hug), internalized ableism, talk about a non-consensual relationship (nothing explicit/graphic or sexual, but reader’s ex is clearly an abusive, ableist pos)

This is part of a series of stand alone One-Shots that all feature the same reader, you can find the masterlist here :3

A/N: Jayce is playing matchmaker, because both Viktor and the Reader have such bad self-worth issues, they’re not gonna get anywhere unless he whacks them over the head with his hammer

“According to Mel, he is an absolute ass, but unfortunately one of the most influential people in Piltover, so—“

“Unfortunately, he’s also kinda, sorta my ex…” you mumble into the rim of your glass, interrupting Jayce and it is comical, cartoonish almost, how his head turns to look at you so fast you’re afraid his neck might snap. Not to mention Viktor accompanying his reaction perfectly by choking on his own drink. You watch Jayce open and close his mouth several times until he finally settles on: “That guy? Seriously? Didn’t think that was your type…”

He casts an incredibly unsubtle, overly obvious glance over at Viktor as he says this and you would’ve loved to strangle him for it; thankfully the man in question is too busy coughing up fancy champagne to notice, he does however manage to get out a “Oh please tell me you lost a bet.”

Downing the rest of your drink in one go, you shake your head. “Gods, I wish. Just… young and stupid and naive and always too eager to please and — and he’s coming this way. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.” You all but flee the scene about to unfold, grabbing another glass off a passing waiter’s tray as you make a break for the nearest balcony. Your friends watch you disappear into the crowd with worried frowns; Jayce’s statement of “Probably a pretty bad breakup…” getting answered with an eye roll and a heavily sarcastic “You think so? I never would have guessed.”

The next hours are spent hopping from hiding spot to hiding spot, snatching drinks and snacks off trays whenever you manage while keeping an eye out for your personified worst nightmare. By some godly miracle you manage to utterly avoid the man and the next familiar face you spot when you dare venture back into the crowds is the Man of Progress himself, surrounded by nobles and merchants alike, polite smile on his face as he makes conversation. A polite, fake smile in danger of slipping that you spot from a mile away. Catching a glimpse of the band getting ready to strike up another song, you decide to be merciful and rescue him. It’s not entirely selfless though, as you figure if the asshole does end up spotting you, watching you dance with Piltover’s very own golden boy might be a good enough repellant.

“Excuse me, Mr. Talis?” Relief floods his features as he turns around to find you right behind him, having shoved your way through the circle of admirers. “I hate to interrupt, but you did promise me a dance. You’re not the kind of man to go back on his word are you?” Voice all sweet and coy and honeyed, batting your lashes at him; the picture perfect flirt making starry eyes at the man leading the city of progress into a brighter future. And it takes all he has not to burst out laughing, because he’s seen this from you before, except it’s usually not him on the receiving end of it, but his partner. It is charming, endearing even, he will admit. No wonder Viktor can never say no to you when you look at him like that. And right now he’s beyond elated you’ve decided to play his saving grace for some reason, so he wouldn’t even dream of turning you down.

“Of course not. If you’ll excuse me.” he states, ignoring any protests from bystanders and guides you to the dance floor with a hand on the small of your back. He leads you into a waltz and waits until you’re swallowed by dancing couples until he lets his face drop into an exhausted grimace. “Oh sweet Gods, thank you. Anymore of that and I would’ve driven the cocktail sticks into my ears.”

“You’re welcome. How did you even end up like that, though? Where’s your better half? He’s usually pretty capable of getting you both out of situations like that.” He sends you a knowing grin as he spins you. “Oh so you think he’s the better half? Ouch.” It earns him an eye roll, but you’re smiling nonetheless. “Like you don’t know I have a favorite. Now answer the question, golden boy.” There’s hesitation before he answers with, “He went home for the evening.” and you almost fumble your next steps. “Excuse me? The bastard begged me to come along for weeks and now he just ditches? The only reason I agreed to come was because he actually promised me a dance.”

Jayce hems and haws and you’re ridiculously close to intentionally stomping on his foot to get him to cough up an explanation; luckily for him he manages in time. “No, no, it’s more like… I sent him home cause if he would’ve had to be in the same room as your ex any longer, I was genuinely afraid he’d take the guy’s head off with his cane.” The laugh that bubbles up from your throat is joyful and real; Jayce has always been good at defusing your irritation with humor. It takes another few seconds and another look at his face to realize that he’s dead serious and your laughter dies on your tongue, leaving behind the taste of ashes. “You can’t be— He— What?! I left you guys for two hours max!”

“Yeah, well…” he starts as he dips you, “your ex has a way of getting under people’s skin.” No shit. But you’d honestly thought Viktor was above it. “What did the asshole do? Dismiss Hextech as an obsolete fantasy?” Shaking his head, he leads you into another turn. “No, quite the opposite, actually. He was incredibly interested, but his demands for becoming a sponsor were ludicrous, to put it mildly. Final say in the direction of Hextech, majority of the shares, unrestricted access to all stages of development and… you.” This time, you do stumble over your own feet in shock, falling straight into his chest. “Pardon?!”

The poor man looks as uncomfortable as you feel as he explains. “Apparently he saw the three of us talking earlier and one thing led to another and— fuck, I don’t know what happened between you, but that man is absolutely not over you. For some reason that is entirely beyond me, he was under the impression that because we’re friends we’d somehow be able to coerce you into being with him again. And the way he was talking about you? Gods, it made me wanna punch him in the face; it was so utterly vile I can’t even repeat it. Scratch that, I just really don’t want to.” All things considered, you’re glad for his hands steadying you, cause the room’s spinning even without the dance you’re still enagaged in and you feel like you’re gonna loose all the fancy hors-d’oeuvres from earlier on the polished marble floor any second now. “Great. Lovely. Perfect. And how exactly does Viktor fit into this now?”

He sighs. “Honestly, I can’t repeat what he said either.” This seems to ground your spiraling for a moment and you cock a brow at him. “Are you kidding? He’s usually pretty eloquent.” To say you’re surprised when he snorts in amusement would be an understatement. “I mean I literally can’t repeat it, because he was so utterly livid, he slipped into his mother tongue and while I can’t be sure, it didn’t exactly sound like he was complimenting the guy.”

Finally all the pieces click into place and when they do, you slow your steps to a stop and blink up at your friend owlishly. “He… Viktor got upset on my behalf?” The way he so openly laughs at you makes your ears burn and your fist connects with his chest in a halfhearted punch. “I don’t see what’s so funny about that!” Catching your hand as you ready yourself for another swing, this time aimed at his stupid, handsome face, he reigns in his laughter and simply smiles at you; not mean spirited or teasing, but shockingly gentle and sweet. “You really can’t even begin to understand the way he sees you, huh? The lengths he’d go to for you?”

The anger and embarrassment in your veins all but evaporates, replaced by something soft and warm; heat gathering at the back of your neck and the balls of your cheeks for an entirely different reason now. Your mouth drops open as you try to formulate some sort of response, only to fail miserably; incoherent stuttering and beginnings of words the only thing you manage to produce. The music finally fades out and is replaced by applause for the band as your friend chuckles and inclines his head towards the door. “You should go talk to him.” A glance over his shoulder shows you the gaggle of potential investors you’d saved him from earlier already making their way towards you again. “And you’ll survive if I leave you alone with these people?” An overly dramatic sigh is your answer. “I’ll gladly sacrifice myself for your happiness.” The ‘my hero’ he gets in return is dripping with sarcasm as he winks at you and makes a shooing motion towards the exit, then turns around to head back into the fray, giving you a clean escape.

Freezing winter air hits you as you exit the venue; bitingly cold but a welcome change from the sweltering warmth of the gala nonetheless. Starting left, you catch yourself after only a few steps to reconsider. Left would be Viktor’s apartment. Right would be the lab. You know him better than that, don’t you? So you change directions, readjusting your scarf over your nose. It’s a relatively short distance to the academy, even so your fingers are starting to go numb when you reach one of the big, heavy doors leading inside. The hallowed halls are quiet and dark, making the high ceilings and ornate walls seem even more imposing than usual as you make your way towards the lab with hurried steps. It all feels like you’re doing something illegal - or maybe it would, if all the security guards hadn’t seen you hang around the two Hextech pioneers often enough for you to know all their names by heart at this point. Arriving at the lab, first glance tells you it’s as empty as the rest of the building. Except for the tiny sliver of light peeking out from under the door. Bingo.

You gingerly, quietly press down on the handle, not wanting to involuntarily startle the man you know to be inside, just in case he’s handling something explosive. One experience like that had been enough to last you a lifetime. You’re in luck, as you instead find him hunched over one of the desks, furiously scribbling notes onto various scattered pieces of paper, muttering under his breath. The small lamp at his side casts deep shadows across his face, but you’re still able to make out the frown; thick eyebrows drawn together in irritation and lips pressed into a thin line. He couldn’t possibly still be upset about what happened at the gala, could he? No, impossible. Preposterous. Idiotic. He’s hit a roadblock in his equations, that had to be it. But seeing as you’re not in any danger of accidentally causing him to blow you both to pieces you make your presence known to him.

“I do believe Jayce told you to go home, didn’t he?” Viktor almost drops his pen in alarm, swiveling around on his stool to find you have sidled up to him, leaning against the desk, in the process of ridding yourself of your coat and scarf, an amused grin on your lips. He puts a hand over his racing heart, as he says “And a heart attack is a fitting reprimand for my crime in your eyes, yes?” You only raise your brows in return, smile slipping from your face, disapproval obvious in your eyes as they flit towards the clock in the corner of the room for just a second; it’s the same look he always gets from you when he’s working when he clearly shouldn’t be. Running a hand through his already messy, chestnut hair, he shrugs. “I simply didn’t feel particularly tired when I left.”

“So I’ve heard.” you muse and pick up a random cogwheel from the table to fiddle with. “Apparently you had some… disagreements with a potential investor?” He clicks his tongue in annoyance and all but chucks the pen still in his hand across the desk. “Potential investor, don’t make me laugh. That appalling, pathetic excuse of a man shouldn’t be allowed in a five mile radius of anything Hextech. Or a five mile radius of you, for that matter.” Humming in both agreement and intrigue, you continue with what’s really been eating you up. “Jayce said you hit him with some choice words. Mind repeating those for me?” A sideways glance your way to confirm you’re certain and then he launches into a repeat of his rant from earlier that evening. He gets about three or four words into it before you throw the cogwheel at him; it bounces off his shoulder and lands on the floor with a ping. “Oh someone thinks he’s particularly funny tonight. In a language I understand, maybe?” Try as he might to hide it, you catch the corners of his mouth tugging upward slightly. “That’s not what you asked of me, though.” Know-it-all bastard.

“Oh how dare you?” Hopping up on the table for additional theatrics, you grip your chest in mock offense and throw your head back dramatically. “Here I am, having braved a journey of freezing winds and complete darkness, to bestow my thanks upon you and you don’t even have the courtesy to thrill me with a retelling of your courageous deeds. Disappointing, truly.” A pointed cough into his fist does little to hide the laugh at your antics. “Please, the venue is a ten minute walk from here and all the streets are lined with lanterns. You’ll need to try a little harder, miláčku.”

Huffing, you run a hand over your face, desperately trying to hide how much the nickname affects you and give you a second to think. Your salvation stares at you from the other end of the lab, the golden horn of the phonograph glinting in the light of the moon that filters through the windows. And he immediately knows he won’t like what comes out of your mouth next, with the way your eyes flash and your lips curl in an absolutely wicked smile. “Well you see, I still haven’t been paid for tonight.” Confusion is clear as day in both his face and his voice. “I do not recall discussing payment for your participation in the gala…?”

“Oh but we did!” you giggle as you hook your foot around the center of his roller stool to drag him closer, very much enjoying the look of utter shock on his face and the slight graze of his hands on the sides of your things as they land on the desk next to you to try and regain his balance. “A certain someone promised to dance with me if I showed up. Guess who ditched before he made good on that?” At least he has the courtesy to look sheepish, a little knowing ‘Ah…’ sound escaping him as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and drops his gaze to his lap. With how the night had gone, he’d genuinely forgotten all about it. And before the night had even started he’d hoped you’d forget. He really should’ve known better. A finger enters his field of vision to poke him in the chest. “You’re in luck; I am nothing if not merciful, so I’ll leave it up to you: a dance or an explanation. So what’ll it be, darling?”

He’s beyond grateful you can’t get a proper look at his face at the moment, with how pink he knows his cheeks to be, lest you realize how much the nickname actually affects him. And this shouldn’t be such a hard choice, really; the way his heart stutters at just the thought of either, he should be doing both. Besides, you deserve to know. Deserve to know that he’d told that pompous swine to go choke on his wine the moment he’d as much as uttered your name. Told him that he shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe the same air as you, much less be allowed close enough to touch you. That he could amass as much money and power as he liked, he’d never be worth even a fraction of you.

You deserve to know all of that. And yet he doesn’t tell you. Because while he did what he did for your sake, it had still been selfishly motivated. Because if he tells someone interested in you off, then at least it feels like you’re his, even for just a second. Because the irony of the situation is that while your ex might be undeserving of you, so is he. For different reasons, yes, but he feels it’s true nonetheless.

So he doesn’t tell you any of it, his personal demons are not your burden to bear after all, simply grabs his cane in silence and walks over to the phonograph. Slow notes of a gentle melody fill the air a few moments later, as he turns and offers you his hand.

And you’re absolutely shell shocked, to say the least. This is… not the choice you’d been expecting. Words are his forte; he’d always choose them over physicality if given the opportunity. Or so you’d thought. This doesn’t make sense to you; why was he so desperately trying to keep what he’d said about you a secret? Or had Jayce completely misunderstood the situation he’d recounted to you and Viktor had never said anything about you at all? Why would he bother to anyways? You and your past demons aren’t his burden to bear, after all. The uncertainty must be written all over your face, as you’re met with a concerned, “Are you alright?”

It’s a simple enough question, with a simple enough answer, yes or no, but all of a sudden, you’re a child again. Sitting bruised, bleeding, soaked to the bone and crying your little heart out in the shallows of one of the offshoots of the river, an altercation between you and some other kids having turned out to be another case of you biting off more than you could chew. And then a little pale hand holding out a dirty handkerchief had appeared in your peripheral, belonging to a small, lanky boy with a cane and big, worried golden eyes.

Are you alright?

You hadn’t known him then. But you’d taken his hand anyways. Had decided to trust him. He’d never once let you down since and you have no reason to doubt him now. So you do the same thing in this exact moment as you did all those years ago: just take his hand and trust him.

He pulls you flush against him, hands linked behind your lower back, your own coming up to rest on his shoulders. It’s nowhere near as elaborate and elegant as your waltz earlier this evening, more of a simple swaying from side to side, but it doesn’t have to be. Not for you. Not as long as it’s him.

Smiling softly, you say, “A dance with each one of the Hextech geniuses in one night. I must be the luckiest person in Piltover.” He hums in acknowledgment. “And do you have a preference?”

“Oh come now, that is an utterly unfair comparison.” And your heart aches at the way his face falls just the tiniest bit. “I’ve had my preference for years, regardless of dancing abilities; poor Jayce never even stood a chance.” It’s quiet and subtle, barely more than a deep breath in and out, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. “Don’t tell him that, it’ll break his heart.” In direct comparison to him, the bark of laughter that escapes you is loud and boisterous, only amplified by the muted, soft atmosphere surrounding you both. “Please, he knows. He’s been yanking my chain about that for a bit.” Not that you particularly mind; it’s a chain you wear proudly and for all to see after all. You’d shout your love for this man from the highest towers of Piltover if only he asked. “Besides…” you start while tucking your head into the crook of his neck, “I’m here dancing with you because I want to be. I really only danced with Jayce because I thought if… if you-know-who saw it, it might keep him off my back a little longer.”

A slight turn of his head has him nuzzling your hair; the hushed whisper of your name almost sounds pained as his arms tighten around you protectively. He isn’t sure what exactly happened between you and your ex, but he’d be willing to bet that the nature of your relationship hadn’t been… consensual. It’s plain to see that the man scares you and it makes him sick. Angry. Desperate. But most of all, he’s disappointed - in himself. The conversation him and Jayce had had with him had been one thing; the bastard knew how to behave at least somewhat diplomatically while there were people of importance present. Of course, Jayce, and by extension, you, couldn’t know that he’d had the misfortune of running into him yet again while he was leaving. He’d had to listen to that waste of oxygen in expensive clothing talk about you like you were nothing more than a filthy piece of his property yet again and this time around he hadn’t managed to remain even remotely civil. Had thrown every curse and threat under the sun in two different languages his way. Had hissed at him that he’d turn him inside out if he ever even looked at you again - only for the pig to laugh in his face, pat his cheek condescendingly and give a disgusted, embarrassed look at his cane, telling him that he was ’welcome to try’ before vanishing back into the crowd. Viktor had wanted to scream at the top his lungs; it had been a while since he’d felt so utterly livid, yet so humiliated and useless at the same time.

And here you are, wanting to thank him for some courageous, chivalrous deed he didn’t actually commit. Looking at him with the biggest eyes, like he’d hung the stars in the sky just for you, when in reality, he couldn’t even properly defend you against someone who’d clearly hurt you. He has to tell you. He’s not the hero you think him to be.

“About what I said to him—“ is as far as he gets, as you promptly cut him off with, “Don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter.” Not even ten minutes ago, you were essentially blackmailing him into spilling this secret and now you don’t care anymore? “I would argue that it does.” He feels more than sees you shake your head, your hair tickling his cheek. “You stood up for me, right? That’s all I have to know. It’s enough.”

Anger and disgust come back full force, choking him like bile rising in the back of his throat, not aimed at you, never at you, but at himself.

“It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh and bitter and cold.

“It’s plenty.”

Soft and sweet and warm, the exact opposite of his own words in every way; the reassurance and comfort he’s supposed to be offering you dripping from every word. When did your roles get reversed? You’re the one in distress and you’re comforting him? He’s not just useless, he’s absolutely pathetic. And even though you might be none the wiser to his self destructive thoughts, some part of you seems to know; it always seems to know as your fingers dance across his shoulders to busy themselves with the hair at the nape of his neck, calming his nerves.

“I haven’t had— I mean, no one’s ever— Most people—“ A sigh, a clear sign of frustration as you try to get your thoughts in order, warm breath fanning over his neck, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. “I can count the people who ever stood up for me over the course of my life on one hand; I mean, my birth parents never even bothered to. So knowing there’s someone who has my back, even when I’m not present? It’s…” Pulling back to look at him, his breath catches at the way the silvery light from outside empathizes the affection in your eyes and the tenderness of your smile. “It’s a nice feeling. Thank you.”

His hand is moving before his brain has time to play catch up, cupping your cheek and all but melting when you nuzzle into his warmth, eyes fluttering closed.

“For you? Always.”

He’s not sure he’s ever seen you look quite so peaceful and at ease and it feels like his heart is gonna jump right out of his chest; his gaze is drawn to your lips before he can fully think about what that could entail.

He watches your lips part slightly and when he manages to wrench his golden eyes back up, he finds yours already on him, wide in astonishment and he knows he’s been caught red handed.

And you consider yourself most fortunate, cause if he’d looked up even a second earlier, he would’ve caught you staring. The air is heavy and promising and whoever makes the next move decides wether or not things between you both are gonna change irrevocably.

Tonight, you’re the one that makes that decision. The decision that you’re not ready for things to change. You like what you have and are too scared of losing it. Instead, you settle for something different, yet just as poignant and important; a clear and explicit expression of love for people from Zaun. Softly tugging on his neck, he goes oh so willingly, happily even. You press your forehead to his lightly and whisper your thanks again, and “What you did was more than enough. You will always be more than enough.”

He tightens the arm still looped around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, the hand on your face slipping to the back of your neck, mirroring you. This is how things have always been between you two and how they should stay: clearly caring and loving, yet a certain line never crossed.

Neither one of you notices the music coming to an end, replaced by the scratchy static of needle against vinyl, too wrapped up in the moment, in each other. A bell tolls outside, signaling the coming of midnight and just like in a fairytale, the spell you seem to be under comes to an abrupt end. With a deep breath, you step back, putting some much needed distance between you, if you want your brain to function properly again, that is, and clear your throat awkwardly. “I uh… I should be getting home. Some people still have a regular day and night schedule, unlike you.”

With a small smile, you go to gather your coat as he switches off the phonograph. When he turns back to you, his heart falls in disappointment; you’re already dressed and halfway to the door. He would’ve liked to walk you home, at least, but you honestly look like you’re fleeing from something; he apparently has imposed on you enough for tonight. Pausing with your hand on the handle, you call his name again, delicately, quietly. When your gaze finds him, you’re pleased to find his full attention already on you.

“Next time you’re pulling an all-nighter… save me another dance?”

And with the way his golden eyes start to shine like the stars and his beautiful lips quirk up into that crooked half smile you adore, you can almost believe Jayce’s words - almost.

You really can’t even begin to understand the way he sees you, huh? The lengths he’d go to for you?

“For you? Always.”

[yandere-wishes]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡Acolyte⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𐙚Yandere! Qimir/The Master x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, gore, angst (at the end), author having an anxiety attack over this fic  

🪐Note: Why is the longest thing I've ever written for a fandom that barely exists? Anyway, here's the long-awaited Qimir piece!

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : Disturbia - Rihanna, Dark Vacay & Motion Picture Soundtrack - CAS

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🍓⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your master's anger is tangible. You harbour it stubbornly on your tongue. Relishing in the frustration. You aren't sure how many times you've cut out your soul to place at a master's feet. Gnawing on perfect lips to keep quiet during another scolding. Your new master's disappointment reverberates through the room. Thick and oozing like an infected wound.

You messed up again.

"We do not injure other padawans during training. We do not lash out and attack, especially when your training partner has fallen. How have you trained for so long without comprehending these basics?"

The rage that boils inside you is not Jedi in nature. It's something else, a bizarre second, something ancient, ghoulish. An all-consuming fire that burns inside your veins. It shouldn't feel so welcoming, so familiar.

You roll your eyes.

"With all due respect master. How is one to win, if they do not strick when given the opportunity? That too should be a basic notion, no?"

You see the anger snake across your master's face. A defeated, disgruntled, glance that you've become a bit too acquainted with. This is the look that all your previous masters give you. And yet none have yet to master its eeriness quite as well as your first master. Master Sol.

Your master sighs, a piercing noise, deflating every ounce of his willpower. You are exhausting to be around, his annoyance is becoming discernible. "Master Sol is coming by the temple to check your...progress. He's requested a few items to take back with him. Please go fetch them from the apothecary."

Progress is a gentle word and Jedi love using gentle words. It's easier to say than the full truth. Sugar-coated things always taste better.

But the sugar refuses to stick to you.

It burns away in your bitterness.

Coruscant is a distant memory, it was never your home to begin with. But the high bustling volume is something that is hard to forget. Here things are quiet, you slip through the bazaar undetected. Small basket clutched tightly. You wonder what's dragging your former master halfway across the galaxy. You wonder if it's really just to see you.

You gaze blankly at the holographic list. A few rare herbs and some medical roots. This planet grows them in abundance, and the local apothecary carries more than its fair share.

The apothecary is an old, disheveled thing. The older Jedi say that its presence is as old as the temple itself. Odd how some things have a will of iron. You gently rap at the worn metal door, waiting for an invitation to enter. The hinges cry as the door opens ever so slightly. You squeeze in, surveying the cluttered den. Careful to avoid the half-empty bottles and neon puddles scattered across the floor.

"Excuse me" your voice holds an urgent annoyance. Where is the pharmacist? What kind of store owner abandons their shop in the midday? You run your fingers across the strange bottles, letting your nails pick at the murky glass. The colors flash, begging to be freed, strange space pinks, and summer oranges all trapped inside square prisons. Baby poisons dying to taste the world, burning it if they must, but experiencing it nonetheless, tasting their own form of freedom. Funny, they almost remind you of yourself.

Trapped and fatal.

"Hello?", the voice behind you is languid, dozy. Mirroring a late afternoon nap. When the man next speaks you notice a lyrical lint "What brings you here little lady?". You turn to see it, the voice, or rather the man harboring the voice. He's loosely robed and shaggy in the way that only the most spirited vagabonds are. He smiles tenderly upon seeing your face, strange red fruit caught between his teeth. "I um...I" you click your tongue anxiously against the roof of your mouth. Feeling around for those pesky words, in the end, you just shove the hologram holder forward, hoping he'll understand.

"Oh, I see, out here doing some chores?" You nod, mind preoccupied with the otherwordly fruit. "what's that?" you ask, schoolgirl curiosity lacing your voice. "What, this?" he asks holding the freckled thing between his fingers, it's only in the mild light that you notice the shimmering gold scattered across its red skin. The stranger laughs, walking closer, he places the hologram base on the black table, clicking it on as he studies the list. "They're called strawberries. They're from the forest planets, not many grow here in the mid-rims." He's nimble as he packs the herbs and roots, fumbling with the straw ties. "care for a bite" he asks, handing you the bitten fruit.

Hesitantly you bite.

Letting the sweetness erupt on your tongue.

"Thank you" you mumble trying not to moan at the foreign taste. The stranger laughs, it's a cheery noise like birds chirping in first bloom tress. "you're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asks stepping around the table, eyebrows furrowed, caught in a dream he doesn't seem to understand. You choke on the rogue static as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded dreaming of nothing. "Here..."

"Wha-" your voice catches in your throat, it's getting harder to breathe.

"Your supplies" He hands you the brown paper bag, motion a little too phlegmatic to be right.

"Oh, right...thanks" You anxiously shove the bag into your basket and scurry out of the shop. Holding your breath.

"Come back soon." the voice chirps behind you.

Your old master arrives by spaceship, a newer, albeit worn model. The landing pad ejects to reveal a small escort.

Master,

Knight,

Padwan,

Apostate,

You stand still watching as they descend. Bits of envy bubble in your throat watching your former master and his band of little heroes. You wish you had their belonging. Forgoing the loneliness to find kinsmanship with your coterie. You swallow down the bitter thoughts as they finally approach you.

Master Sol's smile reaches his eyes. Gentle and wise. The true epidemy of a Jedi in every sense of the word. Funny how he now has two failures under his belt. None of which are capable of scratching his shining repute.

His hands are on your shoulders, bright smile. "My padawan, it's been too long." You try to bow, awkwardly and stiffly. "Mater Sol, I'm grateful you've come to asses my progress". If he hears your doubt he doesn't show it. Instead, he reintroduces you to Yord, Jacki, Osha.

You try to be polite. Gulp down the awkwardness

You imagine the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Remember their stiff sweetness and prickly tasteless freckles.

You smile. Easier this time.

They'll stay here for some time. Hunting assassins and documenting progress in their free time. Jacki seems more invested in your training than you are, trying to teach you everything she knows. At least she doesn't mind the rough play, the violent strikes, and sloppy prideful defenses. She speaks in pointers and parries. She's the one to drag you along these assassin hunts. Welcoming you...or at least trying to.

But there is something else at play. Darker, broader, Sol and Jecki welcome you into the fray. Yet you still feel your old master's hesitance, he's still wary of you. Worried about your anger, your defiance.

The distance grows, some icy void.

Sol used to tell you fairytales. This was back when you'd been young and bright-eyed. Freshly welcomed into the order and still overflowing with artless hope for a colorful future.

But even back then, he had known there was something wrong with you.

Looking back it was evident.

Every story started and ended the same. Little princess against the big bad world. Holding out until her prince came along. Only problem was the morals never registered right in your little messed-up brain.

Why didn't the princess fall for the dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones? Why didn't she swoon and sigh over someone rousing, compelling? A paradox wrapped in black ember? Why settle for a sun-painted prince, with no complexities, no mysteries to unravel?

You would have married the dragon, or the wolf, or the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

Even back then, it was evident something was wrong.

The temple's roof isn't restricted per se.

It's rather abandoned as opposed to forbidden.

Maybe that's why you find solace here. The abandonment feels familiar, similar. The chipped cement kisses the soles of your feet, you imagine it's something like walking upon the rough terrain of a star.

You breathe in the night air deeply.

Expecting the fragile scents of moonshine and star glitter.

Instead, you choke on heavy mist and blood-drenched air.

The thing standing in front of you isn't human. It can't be human. It's created from the blackness, ebony in all the ways a living thing shouldn't be. For a second you think you're staring at a black hole. No doubt this creature crawled out of one.

What sheer willpower one must need to drag themselves out of endless nothingness?

"Little Jedi should not brave the night alone."

It speaks

"There are far too many monsters roaming in the dark"

Its face never moves, statue in all the ways the figures towering over the entrance aren't. This statue is something else, a lost page to some forgotten epic. Carved from gems born in darkness. Evil and rotten.

"What are you?" your voice susurrate, quivering in this surreal scene. The air is thicker now, overflowing with raw static.

Your fingers itch for your saber. Only when the cold metal kisses your palm do you regain some semblance of reality.

The hiss, the green light.

The figure chuckles.

Its voice bouncing from every direction. Everywhere all at once. When it speaks the air cackles, raining as if it were a frightened child.

"I am something akin to you, another child of the force" His voice comes out distorted, uneven in tone. "I am what's birthed when one learns of the true strength of the force."

Your body moves on its own, feet kicking the ground sprinting faster and faster before the final leap. You aim for the helmet, for the morbid toothy grin permanently etched within steel. In a flash the word stills, floating around you like fluorescent bubbles, the rain tumbles around you, curving and diving for the wet ground. It dares not land on something within his grasp.

You feel the slithering across your body. They start from the ground, summed from the unknown depths. Clinging firmly to your ankles before inching up your knees, your hips, your neck.

long, slipper tendrils curling around your body. The figure watches, bare arm outstretched. You should probably be focused on how the unseen things are inching closer to your mouth. Not on the toned muscles and limber fingers of the monster. Not on how, for a fraction of a heartbeat, his smile appears genuine, caring, aimed straight at you.

Only You

They finally reach your lips, prying your teeth ajar and flooding your mouth. Sinking deeper and deeper into your soul, your mind, you.

The smile grows.

In a blink you're suspended in the space between worlds, dark damning thing cradling your body.

"The dark side once belonged to the Jedi, yet they chose to discard it. Deeming it malignant, ungovernable."

Your weightlessness unnerves you. You're malleable in this void.

"Those few who embraced its calling were dubbed Sith." He says the word with such fervent pride. Devoted to it's weight and all it carries. You try to roll the word off your own tongue only for it to burn the roof of your mouth.

The stranger stalks closer, lethal and lithe.

The void vibrates, the darkness bends to his will.

He reaches down to cup your face. His fingers feel warm, welcoming. You nuzzle into his palm, fighting the urge to kiss each finger and suck on the dark force they emit. "You..." he starts, his voice shakes you to the core. Its horror amplifies with the proximity. You wonder if it'll cut through steel, armor, flesh.

your flesh.

"You aren't like the other temple dwellers. You have potential."

His thumb presses your lower lip, demanding entrancing. You comply, needing to feel something solid.

Something you've been denied your whole life.

"They keep you locked away. Trading you between craven masters. Seeing who can tame you first."

He nicks his thumb on your teeth,

Pressing bone into dentin.

His essence drips into you.

He tastes of power.

Of dark, dreadful things you can not name.

"They do not know how to train you. How to use your power..."

The world crumbles, ebony midnights giving way to reality. You feel yourself fall, plunging through the air like a comet bent on destruction.

"They only break you further"

Your knees collide with the harsh ground. Skin splintering in the aftermath giving way to bruises and bloodmarks.

The ground feels too solid beneath you.

A poly, a ruse.

You all but expect to melt through it. Slipping and falling into the vacuum, into him, once more.

He hovers above. Absolute in his strength. You're beginning to believe that blackholes birth divinity. Eyes shimmering with fanatic fidelity, staring up at the holy creature commanding the storm.

"Teach me..."

You've never begged for anything so terribly in your life.

But you need this.

this power

this control.

him.

Sol never told just how the princess met the villain.

He never said it wasn't love at first fright.

Sol insists that the local apothecary knows the truth behind the Jedi-killer. Definite that the unseemly man can tell you something important. He sends Osha inside to play Mea. To get the man to talk.

You crowd around the communicator urging back giggles. Yord's chin is placed upon your shoulder and Jecki's cheek rests against yours. Their touches come so early. And yet they are utterly alien.

"He will be so pleased." No sooner have the words chime from the corroded speakers that Sol is ushering you all towards the small metal hut.

Yord entwines his fingers with you as he runs.

Jacki wraps around your arm.

You feel at times they are trying to tame you.

Befriend the feral puppy they found in the backyard.

The apothecary's face is utterly stunned. He's stammering over his words fear glistening in his eyes as he stares at Sol. "Please, please don't wipe my memories. Or whatever it is you Jedi do." A rosy blush colors your cheeks, at his terror. It's terribly amusing seeing someone so carless, anxiously list off everything he knows. You almost feel bad for the poor scared man.

There isn't anything important here. But Sol decides that you will all return at midnight. The Jedi-killer will be back. Apparently, Qimir -that's his name, that the strawberry-eating, disheveled pharmacist's name- is holding something of value for her.

There's a tug on your wrist as you go to follow the others. Gentle and firm as he pulls you to his chest. "Come by tonight. I'll have some strawberries waiting for you." why does he feel too genuine? When you turn to look at him, he's painted in his usual sweet carefree smile that tugs at your heart.

He looks so innocent...

Starlight really brings out his eyes. He's laughing with a nervous smile,

School-boy crush on full display. You're licking strawberry juice from your hands as you listen to him talk. Backs pressed against the rusty wall and bodies half sprawled in the dirt. He's telling you about the first time the Hutts made him retrieve a plushie for their son from another solar system.

Qimir's voice feels like rose peddles melting into your skin. Sweet, jejeune, free. You offer him a berry from your pile. Watching tentatively as he submerges the red fruit into his mouth. Missing your fingers by an inch. He's laughing after the fact, head thrown back as if he's about to engulf the stars. You decide to laugh too.  

"Are you really that lonely," he says in a voice that's almost not his own. You're not expecting the invasive question, although you guess he means well. The words still cut deep. Piercing through the laughter, stunning you for a breath too long. "No...I'm a Jedi, we do not-"

"Form personal connection. I know...But you just look so lonely." He shuffles closer, the dirt particles almost look celestial in this light. Your fingers pitch a civil war. Pinching and clawing at each other. "No, yes. I don't really get along with the others." He rolls his eyes, bored and amused in the same breath. "Yeah, no wonder your money." He's picking at another strawberry, letting the crunch fill up the silence. You're beginning to think he just likes having something to chew on. Gulping down the anxiety with something toothsome.

He's a little closer now, fingers gingerly tucking back your hair. His fingerprints reverberate across the shell of your ear. Lips gliding against yours. You swallow as his lips fall across yours, pushing sweet stars past parted lips. He tastes of odd things, whimsy things. Everything you'll never come to understand. Xeno fruits and asteroid fields. His fingers glide up your arms, leaving moondust in their wake. He slowly parts, holding you softly with his soulful dark eyes

"You taste so sweet"

Strawberry, Starberry, You kiss him a little too deeply.

Maybe your new master is right.

Maybe there are other ways of being a Jedi.

The movie playing is doused in shades of rose and lilac. Gentle in all the ways. Everyway. The twi'lek girl is in love with the zabrak boy and their families do not approve. You think you remember Sol telling you a similar tale.  

The makeshift auditorium is cozy. Brown couch housing the three of you and your armada of blankets and popcorn buckets. Jacki's head is in your lap, you're playing with the end of her braid imagining the hair to be the lace of a Love-sick girl's ballgown. Yord's arm traverses the length of your arm, absentminded as he studies the motion picture, poking holes in the lose rose-tainted plot. Your head rests against his broad shoulder taking in his new cologne.

Maybe you really did miss them.

Jacki reaches for the popcorn, offering you some before shoving a handful into her mouth. You think the little symmetry-less kernels would taste better with a strawberry glaze. Qimir flashes across your mind, smiling sweetly as he tilts his head.

You think you're a little too similar to the star on screen.

Pinning after forbidden love,

Forbidden power.

Master Sol is growing acutely aware of your drastic improvements. He's noticed the betterment in your offense, your defense. To the way, you wield your saber, your techniques, and yourself. There is esteem in the way he smiles. In the words of praise, you've longed to hear. But you notice the lingering glances, the undertone of skepticism and worry when he asks about practice. He doesn't need to know of the black-glad creature that trains you in the unholy hours.

He doesn't need to know how beautifully your new master sculpts your rage into lessons. Teaching you how to wrangle the force and control it. How to use it to make the world bow.

These things will remain secret. For you fear Sol and the others will strip them of you. Strip them of the new master you've come to worship.

"Do you think people glow when they fall in love?" Jacki's voice is filled with sleep. Eyes closed as she murmurs remnants of movie memory. "No, I don't believe they do" you answer. "too...bad" There was a yawn there darling and vigorous like the rests of her. She looks so sweet like this, infantile in all the ways she can't be. Little girl dreaming of something impossible. You wonder if Sol's told her the fairytales too. You kiss the crown of her head, your baby sister you think. And big brother Yord, snoring with his head thrown back.

Maybe you should test her theory. rising softly from the couch you make your way to the door. Throwing one final glance at your sleeping siblings. Before going to find Qimir.

His lips ghost over yours, spilling star-clad secrets between each kiss. The apothecary has never been so dark, so secret, so secluded. Qimir's lips glided across your neck biting the flesh and licking the little diamond droplets of blood. Your nails rack across his spine, the wool of his throw-over itching the backs of your hands. "So precious" he mumbles, voice ridden with want, need. it's criminal how desperately he needs to feel you. You writhe under him, "Qimir, kiss." you whine. His lips feel like a lifeline, something keeping you sain. He pushes fireflies and lava pearls inside you, carving you open and enjoying you

He always enjoys you.

It's foggy outside when his tongue clashes against yours. A thick unsettling mist banging against the darkened window. "You're custom-made for me" Qimir mumbles against your lips. "Custome tailored" you boldly correct. "ummm, sure" his hands pinch at your hips, clawing mindlessly and leaving tails to your thighs. But the sensations are growing distant, you hear the heavy hum of saber activation. You psyche cracks

The world is dark,

He alone is absolute.

Your master's mask flashes dangerously across your mind. "Master Sol would be disappointed". You've heard that line a million times. Still, the words cut a little too deep coming from your demiurger. "Gullible" you don't understand, what have you done to earn his rage? He's gone, leaving you in the emptiness, you taste the charcoal from the landscape under your tongue.

Still, you long to call after him.

"Master"

The darkness subsides with the feeling of softness across your muscles. A breeze stirs you from the clutches of slumber. "Good morning" Qimir chirps, soft smile greeting you as you open your eyes. "Qimir, when did I?" he laughs, it's such a pretty sound this early in the morning. Sweet like caramel tea. He kisses your forehead. His quietude is commendable, he tries to calm you with feather-light kisses. You laugh pushing the covers away and still. Frozen.

What's this

The nightgown is lacy and short. It drapes expensively against your skin. Marring it with its tenderness. "Qimir, what's this!" he chuckles, "I couldn't let you sleep in those robes, they looked uncomfortable." You want to argue, to scream, and be angry. But the rage boils down slowly as you notice something dangling around your wrist. A bangle, and an anklet you notice later, black and gold entwined in patterns mirroring lighting stricks. "They're from Korriban, I had some relatives there." oh, why does that planet sound so familiar? "Thanks, but ask me next time before you go playing dress-up doll with my sleeping body" He pouts and can't help but trail a string of mouthy kisses across his neck. Qimir shuffles pulling you onto his lap. Pushing his nose under your chin. His eyes are honey-deo, adoring and scheming. "But you're mine." The possessive ness that flesh across his face is alarming. So is how tightly he grips your waist. It's only in this state of half-undressed that you begin to notice the taut muscles of his arms.

During your most recent lesson, your master gifts you a ripe juicy strawberry. He says it'll focus you, replenish your wither strength. You eat it a little too quickly, forgetting to savor the pink blush within. You believe too ferociously in everything your master says.

He can never be wrong.

You love the way your new master splatters blood across your sleeves. Be it yours or his enemies. He's started taking you out on his kills, having you watch as he hacks and mauls. His enemies must die, no one who doubts such marvels should be granted the privilege of life.

He's only ever spoken in half-riddles.

"Unfortunately legacy is a fickle thing. Tenacious, fervent, yet frail and erratic. No matter how hematological, we all read our bones differently."

The rain falls to your ragged heartbeat. Fast one minute and slow the next. You stick out your tongue desperate for a few drops. Your body is on fire, every muscle pushed to its limit. But the Force is screaming inside you, thumping dangerously between your fingers. You're ready for the next round. Saber ready and only half mesmerized as your master pulls out another blood-red saber. You charge, rage pumping deliciously through your body.

You forget to ask him where he got the berry from.

The next Jedi to die will be Kelnacca. That's why Sol is dragging all of you to the forest planet of Khofar. You think the name is utterly hilarious, the others don't understand the mirth.

Between briefings and Jacki and Yords packing quarrels. You sneak out to say goodbye to Qimir. Scribbling a half eligible not to leave for your master. But the apothecary is deserted upon your arrival, only a taped note on a half-full mortar.

'Gone to get more Strawberries.

Be back soon.'

You wonder if Khofar has strawberries.

Strawberry, Starberry, you're falling between the cracks of so many.

The Sun on Khofar is red, barely breaching the thick canopy. Maybe it's for the best. This scene is not one to remember, but how can you make yourself forget?

Death looms.

Permanent, Eternal

The fighting began in twilight.

The sky has grown two shades darker since.

He had floated in from the high reaches. You'd almost called out to him, 'master', the words die bitterly on your tongue. His saber ignites in the carnage, light growing redder after each kill. The bodies fall haphazardly stirring the quiet night.

Your saber falls onto the woodchip ground. No sound. He has followed you here. Yet it is not you, he seeks. Your master mask is haunting, in the dark the silver mouth glows bright white. Even against a massacre

the smile never relents.

He twirls the red saber with lethal accuracy, red arc severing another life. 'Take the right!' Jacki screams through the force, her eager voice bouncing inside your cranium. 'Don't' you scream but she's already attacked.

Saber sings saber.

Golden light flickers.

Forward. Backward. Lunge. Parry. Flunge.

Just like you practiced. Back in the quiet of the training room. Is it too late to return to the matted ground and wooden swords? Too late for safe comfort?

You won't take it for granted this time you swear.

Your master attacks with vicious zeal, cutting through the light. His black robes bleeding into the night. Jacki, scurries backward, trying to block with every ounce of strength. In one swift move, she spins freeing herself and assaulting his head with the metal of her weapon.

The mask clutters to the ground.

You scream.

He looks every bit the villain here. Blood drenched, water drenched. Smiling like the wolf in a child's picture book. Qimir's face stares back at you, hair matted to his forehead. He's panting, spent. You've never seen him toil. Dreaming him incapable of harm.

Yet he stands above the corpses. Wolf's teeth bared as he slices through the little girl.

It's been years since Master Sol tucked you into bed. Years since he's read you a story and listened to your baseless questions about romances.

You've finally gotten your answer. Painted in a shade of red indistinguishable from black.

Because the villain is too vile to be loved.

You run, catching the limp corpse before it joins the rest, you cradle her close. Tears landing on the orange of her face. There are no strawberry romances here. No sweet forbidden fruits. Just pain, hollow, empty, rotten. "Jacki" your voice muffles into her robes, rain-soaked, tear-soaked.

"Was that its name?" his voice doesn't sound right. No cheerful hellos or drowsy laughs. It's all menacing now, grating and hollow lilt. "Qimir" you wail, sob half caught in your throat. "It can't be you." He shakes his head, smile crooked and maniacal. "I'm afraid so, little one." The force pushed you up, pulling you to him. Qimirs head tilts, his fingers dancing around your throat. Squeezing squeezing squzing. Your glossy eyes take in his unruly appearance. Even now your master looks utterly perfect. Muscles relaxed as he steals your breath. "Master" you whine, your heart shouldn't be hammering like this, leaping through beats like something lovesick.

"(Y/n)" golden light fills the clearing. Yord runs, Prince Charming in every way you should have loved.

Qimir releases you, only to nestle your neck in the crook of his arm. "Don't worry darling. I'm almost done." He blocks the first attack.

Second, third. Yord scrambles to pull you away, missing each time. "Let her go" The urgency in his voice rattles you. He did love you.

Little sister, little princess.

Why is only starting to make sense now?

There's a crack, so loud it echoes across the woods.

"NO"

Yord's body joins the rest.

no no no

"Where were we?" Qimir is every bit the villain.

The dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

"You lied to me, you killed them. Why, why would you do this."

"Because the Jedi say I can not exist." Sith, right those things were supposed to be evil. Hailing from Koriiban, the evil Jedi forced to flee. And here you were having so readily given yourself to the enemy.

The blood flows free in the rain. Dozens of bodies drained.

There's a river of blood. You kneel by the holy thing, dipping your cupped hands into the crimson. You drink deeply from the massacre thinking it'll taste sweet. Qimir pulls you in holding your throat as he submerges you.

Baptized in blood

The world flashes red.

It feels so free here. Floating weightless, letting everything be. The rage can not find you in these depths. Free like an adrift astromech. Free to float amongst the stars.

When you emerge again. The world has grown brighter. You see the wide-eyed bodies, even Sol is among the dead, you swear you see disappointment in his lifeless orbs. You gulp, swallowing the euphoric faint. You see your new master before you. Swimming to him carefully, following the gentle tug of the force. Prey meets predator. Qimir chuckles, the water is shallow by the banks. He sits awaiting, on his makeshift throne.

There is no sympathy here you should know better

"You took adorable" Qimir rasps. Hot breath fanning your ear. "Master Qimir" you mumble shifting as he pulls you onto his lap. He laughs this is submission, a breath away from grasping his desire. He cups your cheeks, drifting his hands to your shoulders. Pulling you closer, bodies melting into one.

His kisses still taste like strawberries. Sweet and metallic. All possession and domination. Biting lips and tongue and flesh. Spilling fresh poison with each snip of your neck. He licks the blood from your fingers with feral pleasure. Swirling his tongue around each digit and pulling it further down his hungry mouth. You swallow the darkness from his tongue, letting him snuff out the little embers of light. The stars are burning away bit by bit. He pushes you under again.

Mornings on Khofar are dark, caught in a perpetual twilight. Qimir wraps his robes around you letting the midnight sink into your bones. "The ships a bit of a walk. But we should be there before noon." You paddle after him. Fingers lashing awkwardly at his hand. He turns and offers you that tilted smile once more, mask bouncing in his free hand.

"Master qimir" you confess, it feels so light on your tongue. Like clutching dying white-dwarf-stars behind your teeth. He chuckles, snapping a berry from a nearby bush. His smile sings of triumph, victory, earned in blood. He places the fruit amongst your teeth. You, his little war prize.

"My little acolyte"

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