#know* im not quiet sure whos still active here or not

[strwberri-milk]

Hi, good morning/ afternoon/ evening. I've probably read all of your work on LnD, and I love them all. If it's not too much, can I request like the boys getting a call/update from MC after a disastrous wanderer attack on the city after not being able to contact them?? If possible, established relationship😅 ... thank you for your time!

im glad you like all my writing for them!! im so aefjaweofaw please give me the next main story update - also theres lots of references/imagery of death so if youre not chill w that i will see you tomorrow [salute] - theres also some very very slight references to their myths!! it feels a little ooc to me but thats bc. i think theyd be a little ooc when faced w a tragedy like this!! i hope you like it anyway <3

Zayne holds his breath every time a new patient is admitted. The hospital is busy with all of the patients that are coming in with the disaster, a mixture of those hanging on and people running up to him because he's the closest doctor in the vicinity to confirm death.

He volunteered himself to do triage because he was convinced that he'd be able to stop you from dying, that if you came in through those doors he'd be able to separate his love for you from the mind that studied all those nights but that's impossible - he only got here because of you.

His mind runs circles around himself, almost separated from his body as he tries to figure out why you weren't there. Hopefully it's because you're fine - you don't need medical attention or the medics on site were enough for you. However, he knows there's an equal chance that it's just because a doctor onsite was able to confirm your death and now you were in some bag, stored away with the others waiting for him to come identify you.

When he finally gets a moment to himself he obsessively checks his phone, praying to something that might take enough pity on him to listen at the very least that you'll call him. Minutes turn to hours as he's called back to work. Silence is a commodity now as he's stuck in the theatre, only able to go home after he's exceeded the legal amount of hours he's allowed to work in one night.

The long turned cold water hits his muscles as his mind wanders in the quiet of his home. You still haven't called - nobody's called. He understands that surely, all of you are busy but he's been there when the calls have had to be made. To hear the sobs on the other side of the phone as a squad captain confirms the death of another hunter as they softly ask if they'd like to see the body. He's also seen the calls when the bodies are far too mangled, a sight that no loved one should have to bear. He's waiting for it, almost falling in his haste to grab his phone once it finally rings.

Your number pops up, the letters of your name taunting him as he tries to answer it. He's about ready to throw his phone on the ground from the water on his hand refusing to make picking up the call an easy feat.

"Hello?" Zayne asks, an uncharacteristic shake in his voice.

"Zayne! I'm okay!" you say, voice sounding a little weak but definitely better than he could have ever anticipated.

"Zayne? Honey? Hello?" you ask when you're met with only silence, now beginning to grow anxious yourself. You knew he must have been busy - you were too - and you thought he was safe. He should have been, you'd heard no reports of the hospital being attacked.

"You're alive," he chokes out, falling to his knees.

"Of course I am! Things have just been chaotic so I haven't had enough time to call you until now," you explain, continuing to talk to him.

You hear rustling on the other side of the phone, trying to get his attention again before he cuts you off.

"Where are you right now? Home?"

"Oh - yeah I'm on leave now. Most of us who were in active duty are to let his recuperate. How come?"

"I'll be there soon."

He hangs up immediately, leaving you a little stunned. You decide to clean up a little, having nothing else to do really until he comes over. Zayne never acts this impulsively so you assume that the day with no contact really wore on him.

Once he arrives you open the door for him, planning to apologise for the lack of contact when he almost throws himself at you. You hold him back just as tightly, a little shaken yourself as you close the door after him. You realise that for whatever reason he's soaking, unsure if you should confront that but you decide to ignore it.

He leads you right to your couch, too exhausted to even find your bedroom as he buries himself against your chest. It's not the normal way he lays with you - typically he likes to hold you - but you know not to bother him now. You can't deny you were worried about him too, knowing he probably put in a bunch of overtime at the hospital.

He holds onto you tightly, measuring out the beat of your heart. It's the only way he can remind himself that you're still alive, that the two of you have one more day together.

Xavier has never felt like he wanted to die more than in this moment. One minute you were running with him, trying to stop the Wanderer from attacking the group of civilians the next you're totally gone. Logically, he knows you're most likely fighting a Wanderer by yourself and you can handle it but somewhere he's convinced you'll die without him at your side. You've proved yourself more than capable but he worries about you all the time - he knows how to fight these things, he's been fighting them for far longer than you have - and if you died here he'd have no more reason for living.

He practically goes beserk, tearing into each and every creature with the hopes that one of them can take him to you. With each failure he starts to spiral, standing atop a pile of rubble as he watches the recovery teams start to spread into the city. It practically took an entire squadron to force him to go home, promising him that he'd be the firs t to hear once they found you.

You were diligently following Xavier when you noticed another Wanderer going after a child. You knew that he'd panic once he couldn't find you but you couldn't just abandon them. You tried to tell him you'd be splitting off but over all the screams and screeches he couldn't hear you and you couldn't waste any more time trying to get his attention.

You were able to defeat the Wanderer but not before sustaining an injury that made it too difficult for you to continue active duty, taking the child to a safe spot and staying with them until help arrived. You ended up passing out from the pain shortly thereafter, waking up a day later to Tara in your face heaving a sigh of relief as she called for a doctor to come check on you.

Your body was simply fatigued and after an extra day of monitoring and ensuring you were receiving everything you needed to make sure you wouldn't collapse again when you get home. You nod, knowing what procedure is at this point. You reach out for your phone once the doctor leaves, knowing that Xavier must be worried out of his mind.

You're right, of course. He's laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he waits for someone to call him. He saw the scale of disaster this attack was, knows that everything is absolutely awful and he's not the only one waiting for news but every minute that passes is another minute you could be trapped, praying that he's coming there to save you.

He decides to ignore the strict orders he's gotten, suiting up to go help the recovery efforts. He was going bad staying in bed all day, unable to get a wink of sleep as pictures of your suffering flash across his tortured mind. Working on pulling valuables and any remnants of life is depressing on a good day but right now it's downright torturous. He can't help but think that the next thing he pulls out is going to be your hand, severed far from your body.

When his phone rings everything disappears. He quickly picks up, steeling his expression to avoid making things worse should someone look over at him. He doesn't even notice who called him, just hoping that it was someone with news.

"Oh! You picked up fast. Are you just sitting at home then?" you ask casually, so casually he thinks it's almost cruel. How could you act so nonchalant about the fact that you held his life in your hands, that you are the only thing in this world he can bear to wake up for?

"No, I'm helping the recovery efforts despite orders. I...it was too quiet at home," he offers as an explanation and you hum. He can imagine you nodding, tapping your chin as you think to yourself.

"If you missed me you could have just said so," you tease, hoping that the ease in your voice will make him relax.

"Of course I did. Is that even a question? Are you able to take visitors?' You know what, doesn't matter. I'll just wait there until you are. I'll see you soon love."

He hangs up quickly and you know that he'll appear in the hospital within the next two seconds with that uncanny ability of his. You straighten yourself out a little, knowing that you were injured but not wanting to look like a total mess.

You can hear his footsteps running up to your door, slamming it open as he catches his breath. You've never seen him out of breath before - maybe he's much more tired than you initially thought.

"You made it," you laugh, making a slight sound from the impact of him practically jumping at you, holding you tightly as he buries his face into your neck.

"I was worried about you," he says softly, looking up at you. "I thought you'd been hurt, badly. And I wasn't there to protect you."

You sigh, helping him sit down into the chair at your bedside. You offer him your hand which he holds gratefully, never taking his eyes off of you.

"I know. I'm sorry. But look, I'm okay now, aren't I?"

He ignores the pain in his chest, trying not to imagine how heavy your hand would feel in his if you really had drawn your last breath. That weight is far too familiar to him, haunting his every thought in the hours that passed between then and now.

"You are. And I'm going to make sure you stay that way," he promises.

Rafayel didn't even know there was an attack until far after it. He knew you were working and that sometimes, you'd accidentally go MIA. You'd already texted him before your mission anyway and then he got drawn into another project of his and completely lost track of time. It's not until the next day that he finally sees his phone and the message from Thomas telling him not to come into the city for supplies for a day or so.

He immediately starts looking through articles, scouring pages that are constantly updating the death toll in search of your face. He curses himself for not paying attention earlier - every minute he wasted on some stupid was another minute you could have spent at Death's door, all because he allowed himself to forget that nothing matters if it's not you.

It's obsessive the way he looks through all of them, calling your phone non stop all the while. Every time he gets sent to voicemail he feels his breath get knocked out of his lungs, resorting to blowing up your phone with texts. When it's clear you aren't replying he grabs his keys to drive into Linkon despite Thomas' suggestion, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he heads to the hospital.

Even in all the chaos people can't help but stare a little as Rafayel makes his way to the counter, demanding someone tell him where you were. He's really trying not to be a brat, promising you that he'd be nicer to people but when it's your life on the line everything is up for debate. He goes through any and every possibility, figuring out what he can do to guarantee your survival.

Unfortunately for him, he gets escorted out. Jenna tries to calm him down, telling him that he'd be the first to know if they had any updates on you. Right now everything was just far too messy to know anything about anyone and there was a good chance that you were just being treated at a different hospital than usual due to the high causality count. He doesn't take no for an answer and manages to strong arm the name of the other hospitals you could have been sent to, starting up his car again right as his phone lights up with your name.

"What do you think you're doing not answering your phone?!" he yells, making you flinch.

Rafayel's never been mad at you, certainly not to this extent but you know that it's because he's anxious. He immediately catches himself too and you hear it, catching the sound of his hands against his steering wheel as he takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. Just - where are you?" he asks, sounding so exhausted that you feel like crying.

"I'm okay Rafayel," you say instead, adding the name of your hospital. He's immediately driving over as you talk to him, keeping your voice even.

"I was split up from the group is all, then triaged at a different hospital. I'm fine though - I managed to just sprain my wrist from overexertion so I'll have a sling for a bit-"

"You're staying with me then. I'm not having you stay alone with a broken wrist. Knowing you you'd do something dumb and make it worse," he scoffs, trying his best to drive safely to see you again. You don't bother to correct him, knowing that's the least of your worries.

You fall quiet, not sure how to respond. Rafayel has always been good at masking how he feels, rarely showing you what he's hiding behind his mask. Now he's an open book, making it clear that nothing will be okay until he sees you again.

"Okay," you agree, leaning further back into the pillows of your hospital bed. "They wanted me to be released into the care of someone if I could anyway. That's why I was calling you - that, and trying to return all your missed calls."

"Thank you," he says so quietly you barely hear him over the sound of his car.

"Of course my love," you say just as softly. "I knew you'd worry as soon as you saw the news."

Another moment passes between the two of you. Rafayel thinks his heart fell out of his chest - or it would have if it was still his to hold. Instead, it's beating firmly in your palm, only able to do so under your affections.

"Rafayel, I'm really fine, I promise. I'm just hungry. Let's get something for dinner, yeah?" you offer, hoping to redirect his energy.

"Yeah," he replies, exhaling deeply.

"Anything you want my beloved. Just name it and it's yours."

[honeekyuu]

genius. [akaashi keiji x f!reader] chapter one.

>>You struggle to pay rent on your limited graduate student salary, and your worst enemy agrees to help you out.

or

You realize you need to find a partner for your faceless porn account, and Akaashi Keiji is the only man who meets all your requirements.<<

series status: [ongoing]

masterlist. || next.

a/n: this series is going to be the death of me. im currently writing ch. 2, and the first scene (the first scene!!! of 9!!!!!) is 10k words. i wrote a 10k smut scene. :)))) im actively dying. please enjoy chapter 1!!!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

---------------------------------------

“ Shit, shit shit- ” You throw things all over the apartment, searching for your keys. The clock on the wall reads 10:55AM, flipping quickly to 10:56 and making you swear again. “ Fuck! Oh-” You snatch up your house keys with a victorious cheer and then immediately race for the door, your bag hauled over your shoulder on the way.

You turn the 30-minute bike ride to campus into 20 minutes, but that still gets you to the door of the Linguistics department by 11:15. You slam down on the elevator button repeatedly while you wait, glancing back at the rest of the lobby only when you hear someone call your name. It’s a student of yours, so you have to smile and wave back politely, even though all you want is to scream ‘ I’m so fucked! ’ into the void. 

The elevator doors open, and you treat the buttons on the inside panel with the same cruelty, choosing to text your frustrations to Bokuto while you wait to arrive on the 5th floor.

[11:16 AM]

You: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Kou: OMG SAME

You: ?? whats wrong on your end

Kou: nothing why?

Kou: IS SOMETHING WRONG???

You snort, rolling your eyes.

You: late to my 11am

Kou: OH THE READING GROUP

Kou: which one is that??? Linguisticsomething of something something??

You: you know,,, there was no way to be wrong with that answer kou

Kou: :))))) 

You: it’s LEM

Kou: LINGUISTICS AND EXPERIMENTAL METHODS

Kou: RIGHT

Kou: oh wait isnt that the one akaashis in?????

You: thats why im fucked

Kou: oh im sure he wont say anything

Kou: SAY HI FOR ME

The elevator opens, so you shove your phone away and race down the hall to the lab room. You skid to a stop in front of the door, taking a calming breath before pushing into the room as quietly as possible. A few people glance up from the round table in the center with small smiles before returning to the presentation on the screen, but you know well enough that you’re not in clear.

“-f it’s true then that case gets valued where base-generated, rather than at the landing site after Movement, we should see that these forms are nominative-marked. However, clearly, we get accusa-” 

You take the seat closest to the door, and it creaks.

Akaashi Keiji’s eyes find yours.

You grimace openly at him, and he lifts an eyebrow, his finger still hovering over the example on the TV.

“Y/n. Would you like me to start over?”

You struggle not to roll your eyes at him, your face burning with embarrassment. “Of course not. Please, continue.”

“It might be helpful if I start over-”

“I don’t need the background on case valuation in Korean, Akaashi,” you snap. “We work on the same language.”

You watch his eyes harden. It’s only you that he looks at like that. He opens his mouth, but your advisor cuts in on your left.

“Okay, you two,” he says. “Let’s try not to kill each other today.”

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and meet Akaashi’s eyes evenly. He stares back blankly only a moment before returning to his presentation.

“So, we can see here that accusative-marked nominals are permitted, despite the prediction that only nominative is grammatical-” 

You let out a quiet breath, trying to pay attention to his presentation – because, no doubt, he’d put you on the spot about it soon – while also recovering from the adrenaline rush of getting here. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you extract it subtly, glancing at the screen. There are two alerts.

Bank Account Balance (Oct. 10); $562.95

Rent Notification: Rent and Utilities; Payment ($1018.00) Due Nov. 1

Your heart sinks, a lump forming in your throat, and you shove your phone away, returning to Akaashi’s presentation. A coffee cup from the nearby cafe slides into your periphery, and you turn to see your advisor pushing it toward you silently, his own cup in front of him. He doesn’t look at you, but he does crack a tired smile.

“ Drink, ” he whispers. “ You’ve had a hard couple days. ”

You smile and bring the cup to your lips, ignoring when Akaashi glances at it and then between you and your advisor. It’s your regular order, and you’re immensely glad that most of your advisor meetings happen at coffee shops. You make it through Akaashi’s presentation with little issue – unsurprisingly for the department’s Golden Boy, his work is flawless. You agree with every argument he makes, every flaw he finds in the analyses of previous work.

So when he says “ Any questions?” in that polite, soft-spoken way of his, you’re prepared for the very few questions asked to be nothing more than clarification. No one has any comments about his thinking or his analysis, and no one challenges him. Because Akaashi Keiji is always right. 

But you can also see that these questions don’t excite him. He answers each one nicely, nodding along and mumbling ‘ Yes, that’s right ’ or humming thoughtfully – as though he needs to think about it at all – and then shaking his head, clicking through his slide deck until he can point to something and correct someone’s thinking. But he looks a bit disappointed, like he’d been hoping for a bit more of a discussion. He even glances at your advisor hopefully – but your advisor is also his advisor, so why would he have any notes? He’s already pre-approved all of this.

Well, that’s what you get for being so smart, you think with a little bit of snark. Your advisor always preaches to the group that peer feedback creates room for improvement, but what’s Akaashi supposed to do when there’s no more room? He’s already the best.

He meets your eyes briefly, and you look away. You’re not going to give him what he wants.

“Okay, then,” he says after a moment, unplugging his laptop from the TV. “Thanks for listening – Y/n?” You pull your laptop from your bag, standing and rounding the table. You take the HDMI cord from him, slipping into the chair he’d occupied. He takes yours, careful not to touch your things. You sigh softly and then smile at the rest of your reading group.

“Hey, guys. Thanks for coming.” You gesture to the TV, your slide deck open. “So, if you were here for my most recent project, you know that I got some interesting results and will be broadening the scope in order to explore them for my dissertation.”

You launch into your presentation, the material so familiar to you that you don’t have to think about what to say. Your second major project had wrapped up last year, your name sitting on a journal article set to print at the end of the month. You’d gotten a number of reviewers asking similar questions, all related to the experimental results of one of your tasks, so you and your advisor had decided that, for the dissertation, you would be increasing the technical difficulty and redoing the experiment with new materials and a more rigorous theoretical analysis.

You present this to the group, outlining your idea and the changes you’d be making to the original project in order to answer the open questions left by your reviewers. By the end of your 20-minute slot, you’ve got most of the group nodding along in agreement.

Most of the group.

You do your best not to look at him, but you can still see Akaashi sitting there with his arms folded in his lap, his expression void of everything. His eyes skim your slides, unreactive, and you just know that you’re in for it.

“Okay-” you sigh, clapping your hands on your knees. “That’s it. Thoughts?”

Your advisor lifts his brows, a smile tugging at his lips, and you know he’s thinking the same thing.

Just the grilling of a lifetime incoming .

There’s silence for a while, everyone trying and failing not to look at Akaashi, because they know how this will go. And then his lips part, a soft breath taken.

“Can I… ask a few questions?” He starts gentle, the way he always does. He fools everyone into thinking he’s sweet and soft and careful, but you know better. You know that, if you were anyone else, he wouldn’t have started like that. He would have complimented their work first, noted the things he thought they’d done well.

You’ve never heard a compliment from Akaashi Keiji in the five years you’ve known him.

“Of course,” You sigh. Some snickers pass through the group.

“How do you know that this will tell you anything at all?”

He doesn’t hold back – you’ll give him that.

“Sorry?”

“If your results indicate a misalignment between the production of this ambiguous form and the comprehension of it, why are you using eye-tracking to test only comprehension? Where’s your production gone?”

You inhale slowly, flicking back through the slides. “Like I said before, there are two possibilities for why this form was over-produced and under-accepted by participants. Either they are operating within their grammar and just attaching an emphatic element to a different word, resulting in a homophone with the ambiguous form I’m interested in-” You flick through more slides. “Or they’re operating outside of their grammar, in which case there are discourse factors at play.” 

You meet his eyes with a tight smile, trying to remain polite. “Running an eye-tracking task with comprehension will let me see, in real time and without metalinguistic interference, if they accept this form in situations that should be ungrammatical. If they don’t, then these results are due to emphatic attachment and that’s that. If they do, then..” You shrug. “There’s more to be done. But my point is that production wouldn’t be necessary here. I have what I need.”

The group all shift their eyes from you to him in an instant, waiting for the tennis match to start. Akaashi only meets your gaze for a moment and then nods, and you feel mildly victorious at having won this interaction. But you swallow it down, because he’s opening his mouth again.

“And what about case?”

You almost roll your eyes. “What about it?”

“What analysis are you adopting?”

“I’m only using accusative-marked forms for this experiment,” you say. “The object of the embedded clause is the position I need. I’m not adopting competing analyses.”

“But there are other ways to mark case on these forms – as I’m sure you’re aware.” His gaze narrows at you when he says it, and you know he’s getting back at you now for your comment earlier. “What about those?”

“I’m not interested in them-”

“ Right ,” he bites. “I understand that. But what are the case alternations available?”

It takes a special kind of person to draw Akaashi Keiji’s patience short, and you’re happy to be that person every single time. You have to purse your lips not to smile, because there’s a little piece of you that finds it funny to draw out that twitch in his eyebrow that no one else claims to have ever seen.

“Genitive and nominative, and dative under restricted circumstances.”

He lifts his brows at you. “So pretty much all of them.”

You nod simply. “But using pretty much all of them means I’d have to change the structure of the sentence for each type. It’s not a simple swap.”

“Then do it.”

“Excuse me?” You lift your eyebrows in disbelief.

He shrugs. “Your results could be due to any of the things you’ve talked about. Or they could be due to this form being preferred with different case markers in different situations. You could be getting low acceptability because of the case, rather than what you’re interested in.”  

You just stare. “That’s, like, four dissertations, Akaashi.”

His eyes have flattened out again. “Then maybe you should have done it right the first time.”

“ Okay ,” your advisor says, clapping his hands. “Hour’s up. Let’s thank Keiji and Y/n for their time.”

Your eyes stay locked on Akaashi’s while the room clears out, both knowing that you’re not allowed to go anywhere. You get a couple ‘ good job ’s from the people leaving, but you can’t bring yourself to break eye contact first. In fact, it only serves to irritate you more – why is it only you that gets those reassuring comments? Why don’t people tell Akaashi that he’s doing well? Do they think you need it? Does everyone think you need it more than he does?

“Alright,” your advisor breathes, shutting the door again and turning toward you. “Oh-Come on, you two.”

You break first, dipping your head and turning to unplug your laptop from the TV. 

“That was good, both of you.” Your advisor cuts a glance at Akaashi as he sits. “A little harsh there, but-”

“Sorry,” He mumbles, immediately deferent. But you know he’s not apologizing to you, and that makes you finally roll your eyes.

“Okay, okay,” your advisor laughs, taking his coffee and sipping at it. “Let’s just finish this up so I can get away from all this hostility.”

The meeting ends quickly, the three of you just summarizing thoughts and future steps for each of your projects. Akaashi purses his lips when you speak about your plans, but he doesn’t push at you any further. 

Finally, you’re able to leave, so you gather your things quickly and bolt for the door. Unfortunately, your office is directly across from Akaashi’s, so the walk down the hall is spent with him on your heels.

“It’s not four dissertations, by the way,” he says as soon as your advisor’s out of earshot. “Just redesign your materials to include the case alternations, and you’ll get something interesting.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, not stopping your march down the hall. “I’ve already designed the eye-tracking materials, Akaashi. It’ll take me weeks to redo them for case.”

“Then take the weeks ,” he argues, just as you’re both arriving to your respective doors. “Do you want to do it fast, or do you want to do it right?”

You whirl on him, your anger unfiltered now that you’re alone. “What would you know? You’ve never done the kind of research I have to do. You don’t know anything about psycholinguistics – you don’t know what goes into something like this. You just sit in your world of theory, without ever thinking about the practical applications. You might be right about everything all the time, Akaashi, but I’m the one who has to take those theories and do something with them.” 

He stares back emptily while you rant, and then he leans in close, his eyebrows lifting as his voice drops. “Are you really going to be okay not including the case alternations? Now that I’ve brought it up?” When you only sigh heatedly through your nose, glaring up at him, he shakes his head. “No. You’re not.” Then he turns to his office door, slotting the key in the lock while mumbling to you. “You’re a lot of things, Y/n, but you’re not lazy.”

You stare at his office door long after it’s been shut.

You really hate Akaashi Keiji.

–

“I dunno, Kou, I’m not sure what to do,” you sigh, running a finger along the rim of your coffee cup. It’s the same from earlier, because you don’t have the money to buy another and because drinking it slowly helps to stave off your hunger. You’d been too rushed for lunch before leaving home, but you know dinner’s only four hours away. You can last until then.

“Well-” Bokuto talks through a mouth full of food. “-is it gonna bug you to not do it?”

“ Yes ,” you admit a little grumpily. “Of course it is. But I don’t have the time – I wanted to have pilot data for the experiment by the end of October.”

“What would happen if you pushed it back a few weeks?” He asks loudly, spooning more food into his mouth before he’s even done eating the first mouthful.

“I don’t know. It would just push my whole timeline back, and I’d graduate later than expected, and I’m already losing my mind. I need a job , Kou – I can’t live on grad student wages much longer.”

“Yeah, I feel you,” he nods, pulling more food out of his backpack. “But at least you’re still splitting that nice apartment with your roommate! $500 a month is so nice.”

You stare down at your lukewarm coffee.

You haven’t exactly mentioned to him or your other friends that your roommate had moved out. She hadn’t left for anything negative – in fact, she’s a good friend of yours. The two of you had posted in the graduate students’ forum over the summer before your first year, each requesting roommates, and you’d paired up nicely. Your personalities had gone together well, and you’d stayed roommates the entirety of grad school. But she’d had to go home suddenly, which was fine for her because she’s finishing up her dissertation and doesn’t need to be on campus.

However, that does leave you without a roommate in the middle of the semester. There’s a fee for you to break your lease early, and it would overall be way more expensive for you to move out, especially in the middle of October. But paying over $1000 on your own, with your limited salary, is extremely difficult.

You’d looked for another roommate, but there aren’t any grad students without housing this late in the year – the only people you’d seen posting on the university Facebook page about housing had been undergrads, and you’re certainly not comfortable with that. So, you’d looked for extra jobs, but your student contract only allows you to be employed a certain amount, and you’d already reached the maximum. Your advisor had told you as much, shaking his head regretfully when you’d all but begged for extra hours in his lab. You’d even tried finding jobs outside of the university, but most of them had asked for a consistent work schedule and more hours than you can afford to give. 

Which might be why you’d decided to turn to making adult content online.

You’re not particularly attached to the idea of being a porn star, but you’d seen a video online talking about the amount of money that adult content creators can make even from a single video, and you’d made an account without giving yourself time to think about it. You’d taken all the necessary precautions – things like always editing out your face and the singular tattoo you have on the inside of your ankle, or never displaying your background in a way that would be recognizable to someone who knows you. You really don’t need anyone finding out about this, especially not your friends.

You’re not sure that Kuroo would really care – the chemistry student’s nosy, sure, but he’s a big proponent of leaving people to their lives. And you know that Bokuto would probably find it interesting, but he’s got an objectively big mouth and little social control, so it would be a risk to tell him. The only person you’re really worried will find out is Yachi – your closest friend, that sweet girl wouldn’t be likely to judge, but she certainly wouldn’t understand. She’d ask a lot of questions – ‘ why would you do something like that?’; ‘well, are you sure there aren’t other options?’; ‘i would rather move out if i were you’ . Yachi’s had a very straightforward way of thinking ever since you met her, and she’d be the most likely to tell you that pursuing this line of work is drastic and unnecessary. You’re not sure you’re emotionally strong enough to deal with that.

Especially since your new occupation isn’t exactly going well . You’ve only been at it a few weeks, and you’ve garnered a decent number of subscribers on your platform – 897, to be exact (you check every day; you’re desperate). But, in the month since your roommate’s left, you’ve hardly made $300, and, while $300 of extra income per month is certainly not insignificant, it’s not enough to pay your rent.

Which is why you’re sitting here now, lunchless and sipping pitifully at cold coffee. But at least you’re in good company, Bokuto’s presence always a weight off your shoulders.

“Hi, Bokuto.”

Here comes the weight, right back on your shoulders.

You look up from your cup, meeting Akaashi’s eyes. He scans you quickly but doesn’t greet you, only setting his lunch tray down on the table and taking the seat beside Bokuto. The silver-haired man looks between you with wide eyes.

“Aw, man! Did you guys fight at your reading group?!” He rubs at his stomach. “Don’t fight now, too. It’ll make my tummy hurt.”

You laugh weakly, turning away and surveying the crowded dining hall. “Of course not, Kou. You’re neutral ground.”

“What she said,” Akaashi says, carefully mixing his food with his chopsticks. He cuts a glance at your coffee cup. “Is that the same one from this morning?” He glances at the time on his phone. It’s already past 2:30.

You’re instantly defensive. “Yeah.”

He hears the edge in your tone, shaking his head with a breath of laughter while pulling noodles into his mouth. He chews and swallows before responding, ever the gentleman. “Didn’t bring lunch?”

“Forgot it at home.”

He points at the buffet line at the back of the dining hall. “Then buy something.”

“Trying to save money,” you say. You watch his eyebrows pull together in confusion, and you know why – the dining hall’s extremely cheap, usually only $8 or $9 for a fair lunch. The issue is that you don’t have $8 or $9. You don’t have rent money, so you don’t have lunch money.

Thankfully, though, he doesn’t say anything else about it, and you’re briefly appreciative that he’s respectful of your financial situation. You’re also appreciative that he doesn’t tip Bokuto off about it. The large man is tapping away on his phone while he chews loudly, so he’d barely heard the questions Akaashi had asked you. He looks up at the silence now, glancing between you. 

“What’d I miss?”

“Nothing. We were fighting,” Akaashi says. Today’s turning, shockingly, into a day of appreciating Akaashi Keiji.

“ No, ” Bokuto whines. “No fighting.”

A body slides into the spot beside yours, and another into the spot beside Akaashi.

“They fighting?” Kuroo asks, organizing his food on his tray. Tsukishima snorts across the table, mumbling ‘ aren’t they always? ’ quietly.

“We’re fine,” you laugh. “Trying not to make Kou’s tummy hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Kuroo says as he’s lifting a bite of food to his mouth. He stops, though, staring down at your cup. “Your tummy hurts, too, I guess.”

“I guess so,” you say, smiling and sipping at the now-gross coffee. He doesn’t say anything about it, only turning to ask Tsukishima about some ongoing drama in the history department. But he does slide his tray between the two of you while he talks, shoving his chopsticks into your hand and then leaning casually over to keep chatting to the blond, as though he’s merely asking you to hold them while he talks. You purse your lips, embarrassment warming your ears, but you pick at his tray anyway – just a bit of rice and a thin cut of spam balanced on his spoon. You take two bites and then slide the tray back, muttering ‘ thanks ’ under your breath.

You feel Akaashi’s eyes on you, but you refuse to meet them. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and you pull it into your lap.

[2:47 PM] New Comment on Your Video

Your eyes widen, and you lower the brightness and turn your back slightly to Kuroo. 

user6969 : pretty hot, would be hotter with someone fucking her tho

It already has ten likes. Your eye twitches, and you clear the notification quickly. You could never film with another person. You can’t . That defeats the whole purpose of keeping this anonymous. 

But what if that’s the thing keeping you from making money? From paying rent? At this point, would you rather bring someone else into this, or would you rather eat the cost of moving out?

But you can’t move. With breaking the lease and having to sign a new one – moving fees not included – you already don’t have enough money. There’s no way to get approved for a new place with such little money in your bank account. 

Should you sell feet pics? No, you can’t switch platforms or content at this point. You’d be starting from nothing in that case, and it’s no guarantee you’d do well there. Not that you’re really doing well with your current account, either.

Are you going to have to find a partner to film with?

“ Y/n .”

You jump, looking up. Akaashi’s staring back, standing behind Bokuto with his eyebrows raised and his tray in his hand. He looks a little annoyed.

“I’ve been calling your name.”

You blink. “Sorry. What is it?”

He lifts his brows impossibly further. “We have to go.”

You start, checking the time again. It’s 2:52. You have to go to the undergraduate class you’re TAing with him. “Oh, shit,” you mutter, standing with your bag. “We’re gonna be late.” You wave a cursory goodbye at the others, rushing to toss your coffee in the trash. 

You chase after Akaashi, cursing his long legs, and follow him across the quad to the lecture hall. You both slide past the doors just as your advisor’s clearing his throat to get the class’s attention. 

“ Now that our distinguished TAs have arrived, we can get started… ” he says into the microphone connected to the podium.

You follow Akaashi up the steps to the top row, managing to control the urge to roll your eyes at the number of undergrad girls watching longingly as Akaashi passes by. You sit with him in the back corner, huffing quietly and then hugging your bag to your stomach, because a low gurgle of hunger is creeping out. Akaashi snorts quietly, and you glare sideways at him. But he just reaches down into his bag, extracting a granola bar and offering it to you, his eyes still on the whiteboard at the front.

You grimace. “ I’m good, thanks, ” you whisper.

“ It’s going to annoy me, ” he says, jabbing the bar at you. You take it with a soft sigh, mumbling ‘ thanks ’ to him while you try to unwrap the plastic without being loud. You eat it quietly, deciding that it’s the least he can do for torturing you during LEM. And then you stuff the empty plastic in your bag before extracting your laptop, intending to take notes on your advisor’s lecture.

The screen is bright and noticeable when it opens to your most recently opened tab – thankfully not your porn account, which you’re always mindful to close before leaving home. But it is open to your bank’s website, still signed in and clearly displaying the meager $562.95 in your checking account.

You jump, rushing to lower the screen brightness and close out of the tab at the same time, and then you cut a glance at Akaashi. He’s not looking directly at your screen, but he’s certainly not looking at the whiteboard anymore. His eyes hover suspiciously in the space between your laptop and his, and he meets your eyes quickly before looking away when he realizes you’re watching him.

“ Sorry, ” he mumbles. “ Brightness caught my eye. ” 

“ Don’t say anything ,” is all you say. All that you’re willing to plead with him. He just lifts a brow and nods, saying nothing else as he refocuses his attention on the lecture. You sigh, pushing two frustrated fingers against your temple, because now Akaashi Keiji knows you’re broke and living way too far above your means.

–

You sit on your couch four days later, scrolling aimlessly through Tinder. You grimace as you swipe, unable to bring yourself to approve of any of the guys you’re seeing. There are obviously some good-looking ones, and even some extremely attractive ones, but every time you start to swipe right, you hesitate.

How crazy are you going to look, matching on a dating app with someone, only to ask them if they’d be willing to be your faceless porn partner?

You groan, throwing your phone down. You can’t believe you’ve even gotten to this point. Just this week, you’d sworn you would keep running your account alone. You’d sworn you wouldn’t let anyone else get involved with this, for your pride and for your anonymity.

That’s another reason you’re so unwilling to match with someone on Tinder. What if he ends up being a total weirdo? What if he leaks your name online or talks about you to his friends? Or-

Oh, God, what if he lies about his age and ends up being an undergrad? Even worse – an undergrad in your department ?

“ Ugh- ” You shudder, picking your phone back up. “No. No fucking way.” You quickly delete your account and the app, shaking your head. It’s too much of a risk, and you’re not even sure you could ever trust someone you don’t know to help you with something so private and sensitive.

Do I really have to find a partner?  

You pull your laptop from the table and open it, logging into your porn account and scrolling through the videos. You’d stuck to the same posting schedule since you’d started, maintaining consistency and posting every day over the last four weeks. It had definitely helped with your views, because the subscribers you do have know when to expect a new video. But, even this week alone, your view count has become stagnant and – in the case of the video you’d posted today – even gone down a few thousand hits.

You check the section for monetization, seeing you’d made an extra $16 dollars in the last four days. $16 dollars in four days. You might as well start selling your couch.

But if you can’t find a partner amongst the hundreds of men you don’t know, then it has to be someone you do know.

“Kuroo,” you sigh, leaning your head back against the couch. And then you shake your head. He’s the best choice – he’s private and minds his business. He would never be a risk for outting you. He’s also extremely attractive, and you have decent chemistry. But he’s also one of your closest friends, and you’re not even willing to tell him you do this for a living, for fear of something changing between you. You could never ask him to help you.

“Bokuto,” you move on, bobbing your head back and forth. He’s definitely the least likely to let anything change between you – he’d find it interesting, and he would never judge you. He’d also be more than willing to help, especially since this is for the purpose of paying your bills and not just something you do for fun on the side. He’s incredibly kind and motivated in that way… but still, it isn’t right. 

Not only does it feel a bit weird to imagine having sex with him, even for business, but it also wouldn’t be long before he accidentally lets something slip to someone. It would be unintentional, of course, but Bokuto Koutarou isn’t exactly known for his subtlety. Not to mention that you need someone who can’t be recognized on camera, even faceless, and Bokuto’s presence is so overwhelming that it would take no time at all for someone who knows him to pinpoint exactly who it is.

You shake your head, going through the mental list of every guy you’ve ever interacted with. You don’t really know Tsukishima, despite eating lunch with him most days and seeing him at almost every function, and you get the feeling he would laugh in your face if you ask. You think of guys you’d known in college and even some guys you’d met at the events that your friends have invited you to. You even pick up your phone and start scrolling through your contacts, really stretching the limits of your imagination.

None of them work.

“ Fuck ,” you groan, scrubbing at your brow. This isn’t going to work.

Your phone buzzes with a text, the message sliding into view before disappearing.

[9:48 PM]

Akaashi: i printed copies of the handout for discussion on monday

Akaashi: putting them in my mailbox so you can grab them before class

Akaashi: youll print the exams next week, right?

You stare at the messages as they come in.

Akaashi . 

His name drifts like a whisper through your mind, and you have to throw your phone on the table and stand, your eyes wide.

“No. No,” you say, rounding the couch and pacing behind it. “No, no, no.”

Not him. Anyone but him. You can barely stand him, and the idea of him knowing what you do to make rent is unfathomable. You can’t trust him with something like that-

But, he is trustworthy. He’d shown himself not even a week ago to be sensitive to your personal information and financial situation. He makes judgment calls that benefit you, even though he could be doing everything in his power to make your life hell. As annoying as he is – as rude as he can be, especially to you – he’s a decent human being. He’s private, he’s subtle, he’s quiet and keeps to himself, and-

And he’s average. A very good-looking man, yes, but overall a perfectly normal, average guy that would never be recognized.

“ No! ” You groan, starting to pace harder. “ No, no, no! ”

Your phone starts to ring on the table. You jump, staring at the screen.

You can see his name even from here. 

You approach it carefully, hands shaking as you reach for it. 

“H-Hello?”

“ Y/n, ” he says, his voice quiet but firm.

“Uh-” You laugh weakly. “Hi. What’s… up?”

“ I’m just checking you got my texts. I’m leaving the department now. ”

“You stayed there until 10 on a Saturday?”

“ I lost track of time. You got my texts, then? ”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yeah, I got them. Thanks for printing.”

“ And you’ll-”

“Yep. I got the exams.”

There’s silence on the other end, followed by the quiet jingle of his office keys. “ Are you… You sound.. not great. Nervous. ”

It’s mortifying that he can hear that it in your voice. Why can he hear that in your voice?

“No, I’m good. Just-just busy. Stressed.”

“ Oh. Okay, then. ” He pauses a moment, and you wonder if he’s giving you time to say more. You don’t. Finally, he clears his throat. “‘ Kay. Bye. ” He hangs up before you can repeat it back to him.

A perfectly average, decent human being who’s private, subtle, quiet, and keeps to himself.

The only issue is that you hate each other.

Great.

–

You pace in front of his office door two days later, biting your nails while you think. Anxiety swoops low in your gut, over and over again while you imagine talking to him. Swelling and heaving when you imagine the look on his face, inevitably judgmental and maybe a little amused that you’d even thought to approach him.

God, you can’t do this.

“No,” you mumble, turning back toward your own door. You’ll find someone else.

The door opens behind you, and you jump, spinning around. Akaashi stares at you in exasperation, his glasses askew and his hair ruffled like he’s been pulling his fingers through it.

“Are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand outside all day?”

“Uh,” you stammer, shaking your head. “Uh, no. No, I didn’t-I don’t have anything-”

“Y/n,” he sighs. “You’ve been pacing out here for ten minutes. I’ve been watching your feet go back and forth in front of my door this whole time. It’s really fucking distracting – I’m trying to work.”

Your eyes go wide, because you’re not sure you’ve ever heard Akaashi swear before. He opens the door wider, beckoning you in with an impatient sweep of his arm. You find yourself stepping past the threshold, wringing your hands as you stand in the middle of the little room. He leaves the door cracked, slipping past you carefully and returning to his desk.

“What is it?” He sits and starts sorting through his papers, attention only partially on you. “Something about LING 303? I graded my section’s assignments already – do you need the answer key?”

You swallow, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “No, I… I have an answer key, too.”

“Then?”

A large part of you wants to leave. He’s in a bad mood, and he’s clearly busy. You’re not sure this is the best time to bring up something this sensitive with him. But then again – when would you ever find the best time to talk to Akaashi Keiji about your secret porn account?

So, with a shaky breath, you return to the door, pushing it closed quietly and locking it.

“Uhm,” you start, turning slowly on the spot and facing him. “Can we talk?”

He’s got his eyes, wary now, on the doorknob where your hand rests, your thumb still over the lock that’s been pushed in. He blicks and flicks his gaze to yours, eyes narrowing when he sees the discomfort in your expression. 

“O…kay?” He sets his papers down and leans back in his seat, his attention yours now. “...What’s up?”

You make your way to the chair in front of his desk and perch in it uncertainly. “Okay. Is it okay if I say everything before you talk?” He just tilts his head, watching you intensely, and then he nods once. Whatever had been on his mind before is clearly gone, and you silently hope it hadn’t been some groundbreaking idea that you’ve just interrupted.

“So,” you start, heaving out a nervous sigh. “You saw my bank account the other day. Last week.” He nods again, and you rush into the speech you’d practiced all morning, not wanting him to think you’re just here to ask for money. That might be easier, honestly. But your courage might never come again, so you need to barrel through this now. “It’s been that way for about a month now. I live in a 2-bedroom apartment, and – when I had a roommate-” He squints now, because he’s certainly heard Bokuto talk about your roommate as though she still exists. “-my rent was only $500 a month.”

He opens his mouth to speak, thoughts very obviously swirling in that overactive brain of his, but he shuts it again, remembering he’d promised you silence. He nods, and you nod back.

“She moved out a month ago for personal reasons, and if I break the lease and move out, too, it would cost more than just continuing to live there on my own. And-” You throw your hands around while you talk, ramping up in intensity now that you’ve gotten started. “-I know that in the long run, it’s more cost-effective to eat the move-out fees and the cost of moving, but you saw my bank account. I don’t have any way of doing that right now.”

“You need a roommate,” is what he says, unable to stop himself. You sigh, shaking your head.

“I tried. The only people searching for housing this late in the semester are undergrads.” He grimaces, and you nod. “So that’s not an option.” You sigh again, trying to remember what to say next. “Uh-Oh, right-So-” You wring your hands in your lap. “My rent’s over $1000, and I obviously don’t have that. And I’ve tried looking for extra jobs and for extra hours around the department, but I’m at max hours, and there are no part-time jobs that are flexible with my research and teaching schedule.”

You sigh shakily, staring out the window behind his head. You stay that way for a minute, gathering your courage. Akaashi watches you carefully, tracking the slight changes in your expression and the defeat that crosses your face.

“Y/n?” he asks, his voice soft now, in that way that he speaks to everyone who’s not you.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “Nervous.” You clear your throat and ground yourself, looking him straight in the eye. “So, I had to turn to some… desperate measures.” His eyebrows lift with interest, and you think you see him lean in almost imperceptibly. “I… decided to start making… content -”

You watch understanding cross his face immediately – of course it does, he’s not the Golden Boy for nothing. His eyes go wide, and he inhales quietly, leaning back in his chair and letting out a long, drawn out breath that ends in a quiet ‘ oh, boy ’. You stop talking, just watching him nervously. He stares back a moment, his mouth opening and closing with thoughts unsaid as he considers how to respond.

“And it was your only option?”

“Probably not,” you laugh. The sound is watery, and your eyes are starting to sting. “But I couldn’t think of anything else at the time, and I haven’t figured out anything better since – anything short of asking someone for a $500 loan.”

“Okay,” he says simply. You meet his eyes, searching for judgment or thinly veiled disgust, or anything . But he just looks back at you, his face devoid of everything but concentration as he thinks. “So, why are you telling me this?”

You break eye contact, staring down at your lap. You’re sweating profusely, your stomach doing that terrible flipping. “It’s… not exactly going well .”

Silence, and then-

“Define ‘ not going well ’.”

You flick your eyes to meet his briefly, seeing that he’s staring at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before. When you make eye contact, he takes a breath.

“Y/n-”

“Someone-” You swallow. “I’ve only made $300 in the last four weeks, and my roommate helped me pay the October 1st rent because she felt bad for moving out so suddenly. I’m clearly desperate, Akaashi, because I’m not making the kind of money I need to be making, but there’s nothing else. And someone commented on a video that-” You break, rubbing at your brow and breathing hard. God, this is so difficult. You don’t know how to say it to him.

“You need a partner.”

You suck in a breath, your own watery, stinging eyes meeting his. He’s breathing a little harder now, and his expression’s not as guarded as it usually is. He’s tapping a finger nervously on his desk and blinking a lot.

“Why me?”

You fumble for an answer. “Uhm-Because-”

“Why not Kuroo?” He asks, his voice calm despite the increased tapping on his desk.

“‘m not sure our friendship would survive it. I care too much about him.”

He nods, clearly not offended by the implication that you’re willing to risk things with him . He’s not your friend and he knows that. The relationship between the two of you is delicate and tense, but it’s never entered the realm of care. Professional respect at most, outright hatred at worst. There’s nothing to risk by asking Akaashi Keiji to help, aside from the risk that he’ll make you feel bad or even that he’ll tell someone else. And it must mean something that you’re trusting him not to do those things.

“Bokuto?” he asks, jumping through all the same mental hoops that you had.

“There’s a million reasons it can’t be him,” you say, sighing tiredly. He narrows his eyes at you in suspicion, but he doesn’t push it. He just shakes his head slowly.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to do this with someone in the same department.” He considers something else, rolling his eyes slightly. “ And we have the same advisor. It’s too close. If something goes wrong…” He shakes his head again. “I don’t know, Y/n.”

“Right,” you say emptily. You’re already recalculating how often you can film and post solo content without losing too much sleep, the thought of selling feet pics popping up again. Anything to keep your mind off of the fact that talking to Akaashi had been a mistake – a waste of his time, and an exposure of yourself that had amounted to nothing. 

This had amounted to nothing, baring this piece of your life to him. How humiliating.

“Y/n,” he says gently. You don’t meet his eyes, just patting your pockets for your office keys.

“Okay, well – thanks for your time-”

“I won’t say anything, Y/n,” he tries. “About any of it. I promise.”

“Thanks,” you laugh. “Yeah, I would appreciate that. Sorry for wasting your time.” You stand quickly, spinning to the door.

“Y/n- Y/n- ” 

The sound of your name is muffled as you yank the door open and slam it closed behind you. You hear him sigh on the other side, a quiet ‘ fuck’ uttered in the stifling silence. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you plead for it to be Bokuto or Kuroo or Yachi.

Shockingly, it’s all three, sent to your group chat.

[2:26 PM]

Kou: LUNCH? TEN MINUTES?

Tetsu: bo we eat lunch at THE SAME TIME EVERY SINGLE DAY

Kou: IM JUST CHECKING, FUCK

Hitoka: i like that he reminds us, hehe

Kou: yeah, see??? Yachi’s forgetful!!!

Hitoka: hey now.

Kou: oops-

A small smile tugs at your lips as you drift down the hall to the grad student lounge to get your lunch. But, as you’re typing out that you’ll be down soon, another text comes in.

Akaashi: y/n i wont say anything

Akaashi: i swear

Your face burns with embarrassment. It’s damage control, plain and simple, and the fact that he feels the need to do that at all makes this whole situation worse. You can’t bring yourself to open the text or say anything else to him. It’s humiliating, knowing that Akaashi Keiji knows what you do for money now. That you’re not even good enough at it to make rent.

Akaashi doesn’t make it to lunch that day. You try your best to shrug uncaringly when Bokuto wonders aloud why he’s not there.

–

Keiji has never known what to make of you.

From the moment he’d met you – at the department orientation five years ago – he’d found you interesting, and not always necessarily in a good way. When you’d rattled off that list of research interests during your self-introduction, the one that had been unrealistically high-reaching and ambitious, he’d written you off as naive. When you’d made friends easily, your smile bright and your laugh loud and grating against his ears, he’d written you off as annoying.

And then you’d gone ahead and proven that that list wasn’t as high-reaching as he’d thought. Or maybe it was, and you’d just had a touch of insanity in your blood. You’d proven that you aren’t just ambitious – you’re successful. You’re smart – brilliant, even. And Keiji had found you interesting again, because he could never tell if you’d realized it. He still can’t.

You carry an intensity in your shoulders and eyes that he’s always caught off guard to see. You question the work of your peers with the kind of brutal honesty that should make you unpopular. It should make people hate you, the way you pick apart their ideas and results. But they never do. They never hate you, and he kind of hates that. 

Maybe it’s because you always seem so eager to learn. You don’t criticize when you question – you just question . You don’t tear anyone down – in fact, your questions only seem to build people up, to the point that you’re often stopped in the halls and asked for your opinion on methodological choices and theoretical connections. People seek you out, and you’re all too happy to help.

But with your own work, you’re suddenly unsure. Keiji bristles when he sees it, that uncertain tilt of your head when you talk. It’s almost impossible to notice, and he’s sure that, to everyone else, you’re just being humble, or a nervous public speaker, even. You’re knowledgeable about your work, you seem confident when you answer questions, and you accept criticism with grace, taking notes diligently when points come up that you hadn’t thought of.

But he sees it – that uncertainty in your own ability. And it pisses him off.

You are annoying, he’d decided after the first time he’d noticed that hesitant nature. It annoys him, because you work just as hard as he does – you’re just as smart as he is – and you can’t seem to see it. Or is it a ploy? Is it an act, a performative relatability that only he can see? 

You piss him off.

How can both of you be so brilliant, but you seem so much more likeable? How can people call him the Golden Boy and then be too afraid to approach him? You’re the Golden Girl, for fuck’s sake. Can’t they see it? Why are you so easy for people to talk to? Why do people tell you ‘ good job’ when you give presentations, and he’s never gotten so much as a pat on the shoulder? Why do people like you so much , and all he gets is polite smiles and nervous expressions? Why does his name float around the department in reverence, but it’s your name that people say when they want to get a second pair of eyes on their proposals, their chapters?

And why , for all that is good in the world, do you not realize it ?

That’s why he targets you. It’s like an itch he can’t reach — he just can’t help himself. He doesn’t offer you meaningless platitudes or careful language when he gives you feedback, because it’s not your favor he wants. What he wants is to push you. He wants to push you to your limit – bully you to it, if he has to. 

Because it’s your research that’s born of brilliance, the kind of brilliance that makes goosebumps rise on his skin. The kind that makes his spine straighten and his gut wrench with excitement. It’s your research – your mind – that he’s drawn to. He wants to see you succeed, because he wholeheartedly believes that you could change the field.

But you don’t see that. No one seems to see that, except him and, undoubtedly, your advisor. So, when he pushes you, he know it looks like a personal attack. He knows it looks to you like he dislikes you for no apparent reason, because you’re just trying your best and he’s the department genius that thinks you’re beneath him. He knows how it looks, and he makes not a single move to fix it – because he’s seen, more than once, how what you think he is and what you think he’s doing has moved you to do revolutionary things.

He’s seen you do remarkable things with just a little bit of hatred. 

So he keeps it up, because maybe he hates you just a little bit, too. Maybe his own work is as unquestionable as it is because he’s secretly begging you to question it, begging you to give him that focused look and that critical eye that always makes his breath hitch. But you never give him what he wants, so he doesn’t either. He doesn’t give you the softspoken voice or the gentle, polite demeanor that he gives everyone else, even though he can see you yearning for it. He won’t give you that, not until you realize what you are – a genius, just the same as him.

When you come to him on October 16th, opening your life to him in ways he hadn’t expected, he means every word he says to you. It shouldn’t be him – it would get messy, the two of you having sex. He knows you had to have thought this through already, that you would never have approached him unless he was the absolute last option available, but he can’t bring himself to say yes to you. He knows you need the money, and there’s a non-insignificant part of him that actually wants to say yes. That wants to help you, because, despite how he feels about you, he can recognize the severity of the situation. Of the look in your eye, desperate and scared.

But he can’t bring himself to do it, because he knows that this intricately built web of hate and respect that you’ve built together is incredibly fragile. That whatever you two have – whatever this thing is that can’t be called friendship or anything close to it – would collapse and change. Keiji doesn’t like change. 

So he watches, over the course of October 17th, 18th, and 19th, as you become more desperate. 

He catches you dissociating more than once during your shared reading group meetings, and you don’t even pull your laptop out during the syntax class you TA together. You avoid his eyes for the duration of the 17th, but you seem to forget about him entirely the rest of the days, your gaze distant and stressed. You check your phone more than once during class, and he doesn’t dare look, because he’s certain you’re looking at your porn account for views and comments.

He catches you chasing after your advisor after group meetings, and he realizes quickly that the man’s aware of your financial situation, because he only shrugs regretfully and leaves you in the hall, staring down at nothing. He catches you turning down Bokuto’s lunchtime offer to hit up a bar on the evening of the 18th, and then he glances into your office the morning of the 19th – you’re staring blankly at the journal article on your desk, not reading a single word, and Keiji begins to understand how this might impact your research.

He confirms it that afternoon, a cloudy Thursday just before lunch. He’s passing his advisor’s office on the way to the grad student lounge, a can of iced coffee waiting with his name on it – but he stops short when he hears your voice inside.

“ ...have to find another job, ” you say, your voice clearly stressed. “ There’s no way to get an advance on next month’s paycheck from the department? ”

The old man sighs loudly. “ I’ll see what I can do, but you know these things don’t usually work like that. And they take time. I think another job’s the only option at the moment. ”

“ Okay, ” you say. “ In that case, I’m not sure what to do about my research- ”

Keiji inhales sharply, pressing his ear to the door. You’re not postponing your experiment, are you? You can’t. He knows he told you to push it as much as necessary for the case marking issues, but he hadn’t meant for it to be like this . 

“ Take some time to focus on your personal situation ,” your advisor says. “ Find a part-time job with stable hours, and we’ll work your research around it. It might double the time needed- ”

Double?!

Keiji’s starts to shake his head. No, that’s not possible. You can’t.

“ Fuck ,” he whispers, stomping off down the hall, his coffee entirely forgotten. God, is this really going to be the thing that brings you down? Is it really going to be this ? 

He barrels into his office and starts to pace the length of it. He thinks through your situation in extreme detail, rubbing at his brow and sighing in frustration every time he has to turn and pace the other way down his office. 

Obviously, you’ve thought through every option, but he runs through them anyway, if only to confirm for himself that you really are left with no option except finding a job and delaying the progress of your research.

Well, there’s one option.

One option that wouldn’t require you to put your energy toward applying for jobs and training for some side gig you have no interest in. One option that doesn’t require you to lose sleep or miss class or drop out of optional reading groups due to having to work somewhere across town. One option that would probably get you immediate payout, which he knows is the reason you started in the first place.

He looks at the little flip calendar on his desk. October 19th. 12 days until your rent is due. How long would it take you to apply for jobs? Would they let you start right away? When would you get your first paycheck?

Is finding a part-time job even a solution anymore?

“ Fuck! ” He throws himself down in his chair. There’s a very large part of him – the majority, even  – that’s concerned about your research progress. It’s unwarranted, his dedication to work that’s not his own. But it’s not even about that – it’s the fact that he knows how this will tear at you. How it will eat you alive, not being able to work on your research. How agonizing it’ll be, seeing the rest of your cohort progress while you struggle to pay rent. Because you think like he thinks, whether you’d like to admit it or not.

Maybe that’s the smaller part of him, too. The part that wants to help you because it’s you . Because, as much as he dislikes and even hates you at times, he wants to fix this for you. He wants things to be okay for you, because you’re a person with a life – a person in his life – and you don’t deserve the kind of torment you’re currently experiencing. He doesn’t want to see you crushed by the stress.

Not when there’s something he can do about it.

–

Akaashi texts you that night.

You sit, hunched, at your dining table, frantically fixing your resumé and sending it off to different cafes, restaurants, and bars all over Tokyo. You’ve been applying all week – two places have already rejected you, saying they’re only hiring full-time workers, and one place has scheduled an interview with you, but it’s over a week away.

You’re staring intensely at your laptop, pushing down the continuous sense of dread by finding more and more places to apply. You barely notice when your phone buzzes next to you, and you pick it up without looking, thinking it’ll be one of your friends sending a meme to the group chat.

[7:59 PM]

Akaashi: i’ll do it.

You stare down at your phone, unseeing. Your ears start to buzz, and your vision goes blurry for a moment.

He’ll do it? He’ll-

You press call before you can think of anything. He picks up on the first ring.

“ Hello? ”

“You’ll do it?” Your eyes focus in on a scuff on your hardwood floors, latching onto it so you don’t have to look at anything else. “Really?”

“ Yeah. I’ll do it. ”

“Why?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, and you eyebrows scrunch the longer it stretches on.

“ I could use a bit of extra money, too. Once you’re done paying rent. ”

It’s insultingly easy to spot that that’s bullshit, but you don’t press it. You can’t risk pressing this. Not when your solution – this miracle – is finally within reach.

“What about the other stuff?”

“ We’ll figure it out. I can draft up a contract and bring it by tomorrow, if that works for you. ”

“A contract?” You want to roll your eyes, because that’s incredibly Akaashi Keiji , but you also recognize that you hadn’t thought of that.

“ Are you in or not? ”

There’s no way in hell you’re passing this up.

“Yes-Sorry, I’m just… surprised. But, yes.”

“ Alright. Tomorrow afternoon? ”

“I’m free after 2.”

“ I’ll be there at 2:30. Send me your address. ”

“O…kay. Okay.”

You hear him swallow and shift on the other end, and then he mumbles, “ Okay. See you tomorrow. ”

You’re left with the dial tone, that scuff in the hardwood burned into your mind when you blink.

“Okay,” you say to no one.

The conversation had lasted 55 seconds.

–

He shows up at 2:29 on Friday, rapping three quick knocks on your door and scaring the shit out of you as you pace the living room nervously. You rush to get it, fixing your hair and clothes as you go and giving the room a cursory glance. You’re suddenly so nervous to exist in front of him, feeling your appearance and the cleanliness of your home under scrutiny even though he hasn’t seen either yet.

You pull the front door open, dragging your eyes up to meet his. He’s wearing a pair of black slacks and a tucked-in white button-down, the collar peeking through the top of the black sweater vest he’d fitted over it. His glasses, black and settled comfortably on the bridge of his nose, glint in the light and block you from seeing the look in his eye when you appear in front of him. And then he shifts his weight, and you see those deep blue eyes staring right into yours.

Akaashi adjusts his backpack on his shoulder. “Hi.”

You swallow hard. “Uh. Hi.” You step back quickly to let him in, and you try not to notice the subtle cologne he’s wearing when he brushes past you. Had he always worn cologne? “Thanks for coming.”

“Mhm,” he hums, slipping his sneakers off and setting them neatly to the side in your foyer. When he stands, you watch him cast his gaze across your living room and dining area, tucked into a corner by the kitchen. He steps into the living room, wandering slowly to the side of the couch while looking at the space. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to let this place go.”

High ceilings, lots of windows, and a small balcony. Hardwood floors and an open floorplan – the kitchen is visible past the island counter, two beams capping the ends of the bar to section the area off from the rest of the room. Your bedroom door is just past the couch, your roommate’s old room hidden down a narrow hallway with the bathroom. 

When you and your ex-roommate had found the place together, five years prior, rent had been cheaper and $500 hadn’t been considered a steal for a place like this. You’d managed to keep the landlord from raising the prices over the years, the two of you stellar tenants with not a single issue to note. That’s the only reason he’d let your roommate break her lease so suddenly – especially since you’d said you could take the entire thing over until you could find a new roommate.

Not that that new roommate would ever appear.

“Yeah,” you say, following Akaashi into the room and gesturing for him to sit. You move to the kitchen to get two glasses of water while he takes the corner and sets his backpack down at his feet. “I’ve made my home here. Would hate to start over, I guess.”

He looks around, eyeing all the decorations and furniture in the room. Your roommate had left you with the furniture, thankfully – this place would be barren otherwise. She’d even left her bed and the little couch in her room, reasoning that keeping the room furnished might encourage someone to move in. 

You’re not sure you’d ever tell her what you use that bed and couch for now, a conveniently placed “studio” right in your own home.

You join Akaashi on the couch, offering him the water and just nodding awkwardly when he thanks you for it. His fingers brush yours when he takes the glass, his attention still on the room, and you fight the blush that rises. There are a number of thoughts floating through your mind as you examine his fingers, but you shake your head to clear them, because technically no contracts have been signed, so you’re not allowed to think about how pretty his hands will look on camera.

“So…” you start. “What exactly did you have in mind for these contracts?”

He blinks, as though remembering why he’s here, and sets his glass down. “Right.” He rustles through his bag, extracting two sets of papers and handing one to you. “I… had to look up a template for this kind of contract-”

You snort despite yourself, because he’s blushing slightly at having to admit that he has no clue what he’s doing. He rolls his eyes but continues anyway. 

“I think it’s standard to just discuss expectations, boundaries, and-uh- preferences .” 

You flip the first page over, finding blank lines to fill in the terms of the agreement – and then a long checklist that spans about two more pages. It consists entirely of turn-ons, turn-offs, kinks (taboo or otherwise), and absolute non-negotiables. There’s another page with blank lines, the section titled ‘ Agreed Upon Consent System ’. 

You nod slowly. “You did your homework.”

“Did you forget who I am?”

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you look through the checklist again. “Sorry – is ‘Shibari ’ listed here because you know it, or because you expect that I might?”

He smothers a smile, but you catch the downward turn of his lips before it’s gone. “I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh. And then you look at him. “And… you’re sure you’re okay with this?” When he just nods, meeting your eyes evenly, you watch him for a moment. “And you won’t, like, hold this over my head or something?”

His brows furrow for a moment before smoothing out. “No. Of course not.” You don’t respond, and he sighs. “I don’t benefit from hurting you, you know.”

You relax at that. You suppose that’s true – the two of you might not like each other, but it would be another level of messed up if Akaashi were to use this against you in any way..

“Okay. Sorry. I had to check.”

“Surprisingly, I’m above blackmail.”

You shake your head, wondering if he’d always been a little funny, or if this situation’s so ridiculous that you’re finding everything hilarious. “Okay, so – terms?”

He shifts his weight forward, leaning his elbows on his knee while he looks down at the first page of the contract. “I think payment’s the most important part right now.” You nod, watching as he retrieves a pen from his bag and clicks it a few times. “I was thinking… I take 20% of the cut for each video, but only when it wouldn’t prevent you from paying rent and bills?”

“How’d you decide on 20%?”

He shrugs. “I’m relatively comfortable financially, so I don’t need a large portion. And I don’t expect anything for the first few weeks, at least – not until your finances are settled.”

You watch the side of his face while he thinks – his lips pinch into a grimace and he shifts his head back and forth. He’d always been that way, from the beginning. He clicks his pen a few more times, and then he glances at you.

“Is that okay with you? I’m good for 10%, too.”

You shake your head right away. “No, of course not. 20% is completely reasonable.”

He nods, tapping his pen to the paper and writing out the agreement for payment. He sighs quietly. “Okay, next thing… What do you do for privacy?”

You take a breath. “I edit my face out of everything, and-” You stretch your foot out and lift your pant leg, displaying the small sunflower tattoo on the inside of your ankle. “-I edit that out, too.” You point down the hall. “I film in the spare bedroom, so that no one recognizes the stuff in my room. And I muffle some of the audio, so my voice isn’t easy to recognize. It would help, too, if we need to talk to each other.”

He nods, and then he starts to roll up the sleeve on his right arm. “Would it be hard to edit this out?” There’s a medium-sized tattoo on his forearm, a stretch of the moon cycles sketched in black across his skin.

“Oh, woah-” You scoot in on instinct, your fingers hovering over his milky skin. “When did you get this?”

“Last year, when I passed the Prelim.” His voice comes from over your head, quiet and low. You smile to yourself, examining the intricate line art. “I wanted to gift myself something.” You find it interesting to imagine Akaashi Keiji being nervous enough about passing the milestone between doctoral student and doctoral candidate, so much that he’d promised himself something if he were to pass.

“Pretty cool gift,” you mumble, your fingers tracing the air over his skin but never making contact. He lowers his arm, and you seem to realize only now how close you are. You meet his eyes quickly, seeing the silent amusement in his gaze, and you scoot back to your spot. “Sorry.”

He says nothing of it, just nodding down to his arm. “Can you edit it?”

You squint at the art. “I can try, but if you move your arms a lot, it might be easier to cover it with makeup. We can test it – film from the other side, lower the camera so your arm’s out of frame. That kind of thing.”

He nods, rolling his sleeve down again. You look away from his hands as he works, taking the moment instead to reflect on how business-like this conversation is. You’d expected more discomfort, given the circumstances. But you both treat it with detachment and only a few hiccups that can be recovered easily. It’s oddly easy, in a way that you can’t imagine with Bokuto or Kuroo – perhaps because of how much history you have with them, how much would be changing by entering into this kind of agreement together.

There’s nothing holding you and Akaashi together that would prevent you from doing business together in this way. It’s reassuring to realize that.

Akaashi buttons the cuff on his sleeve again and reaches for the pen, jotting down the terms of privacy. He glances at you briefly. “About who we can tell…”

Your heart jumps. “No one, preferably.”

“Right,” he says. “But if someone were to find out on accident, or if someone puts together that we’re having sex… what do we say?”

“Oh…” You tap your nails on your thigh. “Just that we’re hooking up?”

He nods. “That’s fine. I also think it’s fine if you decide to tell someone what we’re actually doing.” He cuts you short when you open your mouth to protest. “ I won’t tell anyone, because this isn’t my financial situation and this wasn’t my idea. This is your business, and I’m mindful of that. But I think it’s perfectly possible that you might end up wanting to tell someone, for whatever reason. And I think that’s your prerogative, so I don’t mind if you tell them that I’m part of it.” He takes a breath, smiling to himself when he considers something. “Uh, but – maybe don’t show them anything.”

“Oh, God, I would never,” you reassure him, shaking your head. “That’s a huge violation. And I don’t expect that I’ll want to tell anyone-”

“Still,” he argues. “It’s good to have the option. If you’re stressed or need a friend.”

“Well, what if you want to tell someone? What if you need a friend?”

His eyebrows tent in amusement, and he sighs. “How about we just agree to ask each other first? Whatever the reason.”

You take a breath. “Okay. I’m okay with that – reserving the right to say no?”

“Of course,” he says plainly, adding that to the terms.

You nod, sighing shakily. You feel an odd sense of trust with him – that he’s good for his word, because he’s, more often than not, honest to a fault.

“Anything… else?” you ask. “Before we get to the… technical parts?”

He snorts through his nose while he writes, and you’re reminded of the absurdity of the situation. “Yeah, just one more thing.” He purses his lips now, not meeting your eyes. “When was your last health visit?”

“Oh!” You blink rapidly, realizing what he’s asking. “Oh, I’m clean. I get a yearly health check, and I haven’t had sex in– I dunno, probably two or three years, so I’m good,” you ramble, laughing to yourself as you brush off his concern. Then you stop, because he’s looking at you like he’s fighting laughter himself, and you register what you’d said. That you’d just admitted to him that you haven’t gotten laid in three years . “Uh-”

He shakes his head. “Good to know. And it’s been at least a year for me, too.” He reaches into his bag, retrieving a sheet of paper. “But I brought this, in case you needed it-” He starts to hand it to you, and you piece together quickly that this is his health check. You take it, only glancing at the date to confirm that it was, in fact, done today.

“You went to the doctor today?”

He blinks. “I thought it would be best.”

You gape at him. “You didn’t have to do that. I would have believed you.” You glance around your living room. “I don’t even know where my sheet is- I went two months ago-”

“I don’t need to see it,” he says, shaking his head. “I believe you.”

“Dude! You can’t have all these weird, anti-double-standards.” You throw your hands up and hand him his health check back, and then you stand, moving to the file cabinet in the corner. “I’m finding that little fucker-”

“ Y/n ,” Akaashi laughs, and you pause, if only because you’ve never heard your name like that from him. He looks more visibly relaxed, too, now that you look at him properly. “It’s fine . If you want to find it, find it later.”

You sigh, staring him down a moment but returning to the couch nonetheless. He tries to hand you the health check again, but you brush it off with a grumble. “I don’t need your stupid health check, damn it.”

“I went through the trouble of getting it,” he argues, lifting his brows with a smug tilt of his head. You glare, snatching it from him but leaving it on the coffee table.

“What else, huh?” You bark, half-joking. “Got any other surprises for me?”

“No,” he says with a patient shake of his head, his lips tugging his smile away. “We can get to the technical part.”

You sigh, lifting your copy of the contract from the table and leafing through it. “So, I post every day on a consistent schedule. Obviously, I don’t want you to give up every evening of your week to film for the next day’s post, nor do I have the time.”

“And it would look weird – both of us becoming suddenly unavailable to see our friends every night,” he reasons, and you nod.

“Exactly. You have a life, and so do I. I usually batch all my content one night a week, and then I spend a few hours the next night editing everything and scheduling it to post.”

“You’ve really thought this through,” he comments quietly, also leafing through his contract. You warm, realizing it’s a compliment. 

“ Thanks ,” you mutter. “I’d hoped it would have yielded better results, but at least I have a consistent schedule now.” You return to your proposal. “I think filming partner content will take longer, naturally, but I don’t want us meeting every night, so how’s twice a week? Five or six hours each?”

He hums and nods right away. “Makes sense. And we can change the days every week, so we’re not both conveniently missing every single, say, Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Yeah, good point.” He writes it down, and you clear your throat. “And I don’t think we should kiss,” you suggest, your voice quiet.

“I agree.” He doesn’t think twice about it, just writing it on the next line, and relief fills you. You hadn’t been sure how to bring up to him the fact that you find kissing personal and intimate in a way that you aren’t comfortable experiencing with him. It would probably offend you if he were anyone else – the way he agrees immediately – but you know he’s only thinking about this as logically as you are.

You appreciate, for once, that you and Akaashi Keiji think so similarly.

“And,” you start, clapping your hands as you realize something suddenly. “As for protection-”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, reaching down into his bag. 

He drops a box of condoms on the table, size large.

You stare down at it dumbly. “Oh. Okay. That’s-” You’re not sure you’d ever expected to be in the know about the size of Akaashi’s-

“I was at the store and didn’t want to forget.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fine, it’s just-” You smile to yourself, a little embarrassed to know this. “Videos with condoms don’t really do as well as videos without.”

You feel his eyes on the side of your face. “I… did not know that,” he says. “But I can understand why.”

You swallow, handing the condoms back to him with an awkward grin. “I’m on the pill, is what I wanted to say.” You’re glad to see that the apples of his cheeks are becoming rosy.

“Got it,” he says, turning to put the box in his bag again. He scribbles ‘ birth control ’ haphazardly on the sheet, and you let out an accidental snicker. He shakes his head at it, and you catch the grin on his face just as he’s turning away.

“Uh,” you start, trying not to laugh again. “I was also thinking pet names might be necessary.”

“Oh, if we need to talk to each other,” he realizes, nodding. “Yeah. Do you have a preference?”

“I think that question might be better for you,” you muse. “I’m good with most things-”

“ Sweetheart ? Princess ? Pretty girl or baby girl ? Darling ?” he asks without thinking. You watch his mouth move, words you’d never expected from him just falling from his lips like nothing. 

“S-Sure. That’s all fine with me.”

“Okay,” he says. “I think for me… I mean, baby ’s fine. I���m not really into the… more stereotypical names.”

You tilt your head. “What, like daddy ?”

He grimaces. “Yeah, that’s not my thing-” He cuts a glance at you. “Sorry, if it’s yours.”

You smile wide now, utterly amused. “Can’t say it is. But – are you a dom, Akaashi? Or a sub.”

“Why?” he says, a single eyebrow lifting as his lips quirk in a grin. “Because I like to be called baby ?”

“I’m just curious,” you say, feigning a seriousness you simply don’t feel.

“Well, be curious in bed, not now.”

You laugh loudly, throwing your head back. “Yes, Sir.” His fingers twitch on his pen, and your eyebrows lift with interest. You lean forward. “ Sir ? Is that it?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“But you reacted when I said it-”

He rolls his eyes and starts to flip the page toward the checklist of preferences. “It’s not what you said, it’s how you said it.” 

“How’d I say it?”

He stands, glancing down the hall. “Like a brat.” Your smile drops, right along with your stomach. It flips violently, and your fingers start to tingle, but he barely gives you a second look. “Give me a tour of the spare bedroom? While we go through these.”

Your legs shake when you stand. “Sure.” You lead him down the hall, contract clutched in your hand and heart in your throat. You weren’t prepared to hear that from him.

You push the door open, letting him in. He wanders to the center of the room, turning in place. You’d put plain white sheets on the bed, the comforter a deep red color. The couch in the corner is covered in a pale green sheet, and there are a few throw pillows and blankets laid over the arm and back of it. There’s an empty desk in the corner, one that Akaashi eyes with an amused lift of his brow. 

“It’s nice in here,” he says blankly, his eyes still tracking the decor in the room. It’s all plain enough not to be recognizable, but the room is comfortable to be in. You’d put string lights all around the wall, your phone equipped with an app to change the colors whenever. You’ve got one tripod for your phone near the bed and another near the couch, and there’s a chest at the end of the bed. Akaashi taps it with his foot.

“Functional or just decoration?” Your harsh flush is his answer, and he reaches for the latch, pausing for permission once he’s got his fingers on it. You nod curtly, and he drops his contract and pen on the bed so he can crouch by the chest and lift the top with both hands.

He gives you no indication of his thoughts when he looks inside – it’s filled with sex toys, harnesses, props, and basically anything else you thought might be useful. Looking at it now, you’re certain it looks like you’re into a lot of interesting things, but he only glances at you for a second round of permission before he reaches in. He seems to understand that it’s one thing to look and another entirely to touch , but you give him that permission, too.

The first thing he extracts is a whip. “Have you ever used this?”

You smile emptily. “On myself, once. Wasn’t very fun. And I didn’t upload the video.”

He sets it back inside gently. “I prefer to use my hands, if that’s okay.”

“Oh.” You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to this. “Sure.”

He spends the next few minutes quietly pulling out a variety of dildos, butt plugs, and vibrators and laying them neatly on the bed, side by side. You grow warmer with each one, unsure what to do with this situation. He also retrieves a stretch of black cloth that you’d used once to blindfold yourself. It hadn’t gone as well as you’d hoped.

He stands with it now, tugging on it experimentally. “I like this.”

“Okay.”

He nods to the items on the bed. “I like all those, too-” He glances down and reaches into the chest again, setting a bottle of lube next to the vibrator on the end.

You approach him finally, standing beside him as you survey the collection. “Okay. Why?”

He picks up his contract, scanning the list and pointing to your bed as he speaks. “Guided masturbation.” He points to the dildos and the vibrators. He points next to the butt plugs. “Anal-”

“Oh, I’ve-” You fidget with your fingers. “I have yet to be successful with that.” He stares down at you in confusion, and then gestures to the fact that there are three of them on the bed, varying in size. You smile pitifully up at him. “I thought the issue was the size.”

“O…kay,” he says with a breath of laughter. “We don’t have to include anal-”

“No, I’m…” You chuckle to yourself. “I’m not opposed… obviously.”

There’s a long moment of eye contact, one where you become incredibly warm and his lips fight to tug into a smirk, but he eventually turns back to his contract. 

“Understood.”

You wonder how much longer this torture will last.

He moves to the couch, sighing quietly and clicking his pen again. You’re starting to get the idea that that’s a nervous tick. “Should we just go one at a time and say yes or no?”

“Okay. Sure.” You close the lid of the chest and sit on it, ignoring the pile of toys behind you. 

You spend the next ten minutes that way, voting on a list of kinks with Akaashi Keiji, as though you haven’t spent the last five years dreading every second with him. You learn that he’s into choking – giving and receiving – but that he prefers giving oral more than receiving it. You tell him that you like being tied up but that you’ve never tried it with a partner before, and then you admit to a slight oral fixation. He jokes dryly that you’d have to settle for his fingers in your mouth, in that case, and you bite back a warning that the oral fixation includes marking your partners up where others can see. He only lifts a brow and asks if he should check off ‘ exhibitionist ’, and you joke that your balcony isn’t visible from the street. You ask more certainly if he’s a dom, because it’s becoming obvious that he is, and he rolls his eyes and asks if you’re always this bratty.

The list goes on and on, and you’re surprised by how honest both of you are being. He checks ‘ dacryphilia ’, and you tell him with waning embarrassment that he can go ahead and check ‘ somnophilia ’ while he’s at it. Even things you’ve never tried but have been quietly interested in make the list, and you wonder if maybe it’s because this is a chance to try all those things without fear of judgment from the person you’re doing it with. There’s no pressure with Akaashi, because there’s no crushing fear that he’s going to find you strange or uncomfortable. 

He’d shrugged and nodded when you’d said the word somnophilia, for fuck’s sake. He utters the words ‘ temperature play’ , ‘ overstimulation ’, and ‘ ruined orgasm ’ with ease, and you rattle off ‘ edging ’, ‘ praise ’, and ‘ dirty talk ’ like it’s nothing. There’s nothing to worry about with him.

Eventually, he sighs, turning to the last page of the contract, which only has the ‘ Agreed Upon Consent System ’ section and lines for your signatures. “And… is it alright if I’m a little mean?”

You tilt your head at him, your embarrassment long forgotten. “Like, degradation? Calling me names?”

He hums and then shakes his head. “Not exactly.” He thinks for a moment. “More like… disinterest.”

“Oh.” You consider it. “I suppose that’s a kind of degradation.”

“I suppose it is.” He shifts. “Just worried, since you mentioned praise.”

You feel a little embarrassment now. “Well, is there a way to do both?”

His smile is surprised, and he ducks his head when he laughs. “Yeah, I think there might be. Disinterested praise.”

“Yeah, see? Just make sure not to smile at me when you say nice things,” you joke.

He shakes his head and then taps the paper. “What’s our consent system?”

You shrug. “I’m only really familiar with the color system.”

“Green, yellow, red?” he asks, already starting to write it down. You hum in agreement, and he holds the contract up when he’s done. “Okay. I’m ready to sign if you are.”

You leave your blank copy on the bed and hop off the chest, joining him on the couch. You watch as he signs his name and marks the date on one of the lines – he hands you the pen after, and you do the same, your name sitting neatly under his. 

“Okay,” you breathe, staring down at the paper with fresh eyes. He nods beside you, and then he turns his head. You feel his eyes on you, so you meet them, and he sticks his hand out to you.

“Let’s get you your rent money.”

You can’t help but laugh when you take his hand, shaking it firmly.

–

He texts you later that night, after you’ve had time to lie in your bed and process what’s just happened. 

You feel, weirdly enough, more comfortable with him – not completely, and certainly nothing of the friendly sort, but you feel like the afternoon hadn’t been that tense or difficult. It had mostly been awkward and a little funny, which is only to be expected in this situation. It makes you wonder, while you’re showering and making dinner, if maybe Akaashi’s not all that bad outside of an academic context.

Of course, things between you inside an academic context are so hostile that it had always bled over into whatever social interactions you’d been forced into by your mutual friends. You can’t imagine that those things will change anytime soon – it feels strange to picture Akaashi as anything but rude and torturous within the department, and you find that you’re not so enthused at the idea of him suddenly warming up to you. You like how things are between you. You like him just how he is, predictably annoying and cold.

So, when he texts you, you’re unsurprised that your guards go up.

[10:16 PM]

Akaashi: i need your account name + site

[10:18 PM]

Akaashi: please

You feel the floor drop out from under you, and you answer in a frenzy.

[10:19 PM]

You: no fucking way

Akaashi: ???????

Akaashi: i need to study before tomorrow??????

Yes, you’d agreed to spend the majority of the day tomorrow batching content for the week. But you have no idea why you hadn’t anticipated this. 

Aghast, you don’t bother typing, just jabbing down on the button to record a voice note.

“You need to study?! ” You say, exasperated. “My body’s all over that account! I’m doing a lot of things on that account! Naked things!”

You send it and wait, pacing the space around your bed. He sends a voice note back. You click play with a shaky thumb.

“ Are you insane?” he says, and you hear that he’s laughing at you. You swell with annoyance as he talks. “ Did you plan to have sex with me with all your clothes on? ” You roll your eyes, sitting at the edge of your bed. 

“Yeah, that was a stupid point,” you mumble to yourself.

“ I need to see what the general aesthetic of your account is, okay? To see how you film. ”

You press the microphone again to record. “Yeah, but this feels super unfair! You’ll have seen my whole body, and I won’t have seen yours – this is skewed!”

He texts back this time.

[10:23 PM]

Akaashi: oh, sorry. let me link you to my porn account, too, then.

Akaashi: are you hearing yourself???

You groan, throwing yourself back on your mattress. You know he’s right, but it’s terrifying to know that Akaashi will have seen you naked – more than naked, really – and you will have no clue what you’re walking into tomorrow. Still, you just flail on your bed a few times in protest before sighing and lifting your phone to your face.

[10:26 PM]

You: xxxvids .com

You: username tokyolovely

You throw your phone down and roll over to bury your face in the mattress, screaming into the comforter when your phone buzzes with his response.

Akaashi: … no comment.

You want to smack him.

Akaashi: and why couldnt you choose one of the big sites that everyone else posts on???

Akaashi: onlyfans?? pornhub even???

Akaashi: i swear to god if i get a virus from xxxvids .com

Akaashi: rent is not the only expense youll need to worry about

You definitely want to smack him.

–

Keiji throws his phone down on his desk, shaking his head with a sigh.

“What even is that?” he mumbles to himself, typing the site into his laptop. “ XXXVid- This is so stupid. Just use PornHub at that point.”

He’s accosted immediately by thumbnails of naked women and men with penises that just have to be cosmetically enlarged. He plugs his headphones in quickly, very much not needing any audio surprises from this site, and makes an account, rolling his eyes when he needs to come up with a username.

When he’s done, he types your name into the search bar.

“ Tokyo…lovely, ” he says as he types, and then his middle finger hovers over the Enter key. 

His goal really is just to look at how you’ve set up your account. He just wants to see the general tone of your channel. If you’re loud or quiet. If you’ve marketed yourself as one of those gentle, virginal girls or as a sex freak that makes a lot of noise. He needs to know these things, so he knows how to perform tomorrow. It’s logical. It makes sense.

But still, he sits here, finger hovering over the key while he contemplates it. He’d gone through the entire contract with you and revealed his deepest interests – previously experienced or otherwise. But this feels like a move he can’t take back. Once he does this, he will have seen your body, and that’s irreversible.

You agreed to this, you idiot.

He groans, jamming his finger down on the key before he can think further about it. The website buffers long enough that he wonders about that virus again, and then it loads.

Oh.

His heart jumps, and he finds himself looking away from his screen and glancing nervously around his living room, as though he doesn’t live completely alone. And then he looks back, met with the sight of your body.

He can only tell it’s you because he knows it’s you, and – looking at you in a set of black lingerie in the first thumbnail – this body looks like yours. The next thumbnail has you in a mismatched bra-panty pair, and, in the video after, you’re not wearing anything at all. He sucks in a breath, glancing away every few seconds while he scrolls, because it feels wrong to stare. He focuses on the titles, testing every ounce of his reading comprehension in this moment.

[Oct. 19] Shy Girl Fingers Herself to Orgasm

“Shy?” he mumbles, shaking his head. “Yeah, right.”

[Oct. 18] Virgin Sends Masturbation Video to Boyfriend

“Not a virgin,” he says. “No boyfriend.”

[Oct. 17] Girl Makes Herself Squirt on Friend’s Couch

“Not a friend’s cou-Wait.” He blinks. 

You can squirt ?

The room becomes noticeably warmer as he stares down at the little thumbnail of you curled up on the couch in your spare room. He’d intended to watch one video, just to see the extent of your editing, but he’d meant only to skim through it, skipping parts and examining the video from a purely analytic standpoint.

But… Well, if he’s going to watch one, anyway… 

He drags his mouse over it, about to click into it, when a pop-up banner appears from the left side of his screen.

TOKYOLOVELY IS ACTIVE NOW – SAY HI!

Keiji jumps, feeling as though he’s been caught doing something awful. And then he sighs heatedly and clicks on the banner, watching it open to an empty chat box.

[10:35 PM]

tokyohandsome: stop anxiously scrolling through your own videos

tokyolovely: YOU FUCK, YOU CHOSE THAT NAME ON PURPOSE

tokyohandsome: get offline, tokyolovely

tokyolovely: youre not allowed to watch the one of me with that dildo in doggy

Keiji blinks hard. The what ? Where you’re what ?

tokyohandsome: go to bed, youre driving me nuts

tokyohandsome: wait-

tokyohandsome: can you see which video i view????

tokyolovely: …. if i say yes will you exit this website

tokyohandsome: ill take that as a no.

tokyolovely: YOU HAVE TO TELL ME WHICH ONE YOU WATCH

tokyohandsome: goodnight, lovely <3 

tokyolovely: i hate you.

He laughs to himself, bright and hidden in his hand.

tokyohandsome: do you get paid for interacting with viewers in dms?

tokyolovely: yes.

tokyohandsome: do i decide how much they give you?

tokyolovely: … it’s a rating after i log off.

tokyohandsome: then you better say goodnight to me and log off, lovely <3

tokyolovely: ….. goodnight, handsome.

tokyohandsome: :((

tokyolovely: …. <3

tokyohandsome: :))

TOKYOLOVELY HAS LOGGED OFF

He sighs, pleased, and gives you a five-star rating like he’d always intended, closing the chat. He’s tempted to go looking for that video of you in doggy position, but he respects your hyper-specific request and returns to the video he’d originally seen. He clicks on it now, nerves a bit eased after that absurd interaction with you, and settles back in his chair.

The video starts with you in your underwear, touching yourself gently through the fabric. He watches with distant interest as you squeeze your breasts through your bra and then drop one hand to the spot between your thighs that’s currently hidden by how you’re curled up. You touch yourself vaguely, and he hears the beginnings of a moan, quiet in his headphones.

The sound grows the longer you continue, and he wonders if those moans sound faked because they’re obviously so or because he knows you. From the many years of hearing your voice – albeit never in this situation – he can’t imagine that this is what you would actually sound like if you were feeling good. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he watches you start to slide the panties down your thighs. 

He’s certain he can pull better sounds out of you than that.

He watches a few moments longer, genuinely critiquing the video and your performance, if only to gauge how he should act, too. 

But then you drop your panties on the couch beside you, sighing breathily, and move to unhook your bra. Keiji’s eyebrows lift as you slip the straps off, and suddenly he’s not thinking about things he plans to do differently as your business partner.

You prop your feet up on the couch and spread your legs, and he spreads his, too, unconsciously, eyes dropping to your exposed core. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips, and he shifts in his seat, his sweats becoming suspiciously tight. He watches you on his laptop screen – the way your fingertips swipe over your clit in two tight circles before dropping to your entrance – and he swallows, committing the motion to memory, because he’s here to study. To study .

He blinks hard, shifting again and ignoring the way his cock twitches in his pants and strains against the band. He watches you dip both fingers into your entrance before slipping out, and he has the torturous thought that your fingers look a lot smaller than his. You repeat the motion three or four times, working yourself open until you can fit both fingers up to the knuckles. 

You moan in Keiji’s ears, loud and a little gratuitous – but he moans back.

He palms himself through his sweats, watching you finger yourself. His breath hitches, and his stomach swirls with nerves, and he feels a wave of desire crash over him.

And then he hears your voice, in that note you’d sent him.

‘-feels super unfair – You’ll have seen my whole body, and I won’t have seen yours-’

He groans, throwing his head back against his chair briefly, and reaches for his phone before he can overthink.

“ Fuck it, ” he mumbles in a strained voice, opening the camera and propping his phone up against the stack of books on his desk. 

He presses record.

–

At 11pm, you get a text.

You’ve sat on your bed the last thirty minutes, scrolling through Twitter absentmindedly as you think about what Akaashi could be watching. You wonder if he’s actually watched anything, or if he’s just skimming the thumbnails and titles, or maybe if he’d just logged off right after you, satisfied with teasing you a little. 

You feel painfully vulnerable in your state of not knowing. You have no clue what you’re walking into tomorrow. At least before, you were partially comforted in that neither of you had seen the other naked, and also in that neither of you had been with someone else in at least a year. There had been an air of safety, knowing that you and Akaashi were on relatively equal ground.

You’re horribly underground, now.

So, when his first text comes through, the banner pulling down over the top of your screen, you think the worst.

[10:59 PM] 

Akaashi : [Video Attached]

What is that? What did he do? Did he record your videos on his phone? Is he commenting on them? At the very worst, he’s making fun of you, and at the very best, he’s offering you tips to improve your filming or editing. You really don’t know which you hate more.

But then his second text comes in, this banner replacing the last.

Akaashi: making it a little less unfair.

“ What? ” you mumble, brows furrowed as you click on the notification. Your phone jumps to the text thread, and you squint at the thumbnail of the video. It’s just him leaning toward the camera with a furrowed brow, seated at his desk in grey sweats and a white t-shirt, with his glasses perched on his nose and his hair slightly wet from what’s probably a recent shower. He’s got headphones in, and there’s something bright on his laptop screen.

It’s the glare in the corner of his glasses, a reflection of his laptop screen, that makes your heart leap.

You know that pale green sheet.

“What… the fuck …?” You bring the phone close to your face, too scared to press play . “Is that asshole live-reacting to my video?” With a trembling finger, your click on the video.

And you realize immediately what’s happening.

Akaashi settles back in his chair with a heated sigh, his tongue darting out as he watches his screen. It’s because he leaned back that you can see properly now – the tent in his pants, the hand he presses over the outline of his cock with a quiet sigh.

Your jaw drops. He’s-

His eyes track your movement on the screen, which you can now see clearly in the glare of his glasses, and his bottom lip catches between his teeth. He breathes hard, palming himself through his sweats as he watches your video. He glances once at his own camera, clearly nervous about recording this, but then his eyes widen and fly to his screen, whatever sound you’d just made in his headphones drawing his attention completely.

“ Oh, f- ” He purses his lips, and you feel yourself leaning in, wanting to hear what he’d been about to say. He blinks rapidly, eyes trained on one spot – you can see exactly which video it is now, and your heart jumps when you recognize the way your own body moves in the reflection of his glasses.

So that’s what he’s into.

You spend so long staring at the reflection in his glasses that you nearly miss the way he starts to move. You drop your eyes in time to catch him lifting his hips just enough to slide his sweats down to his thighs. He tucks one hand into his boxers, and you watch with parted lips as Akaashi Keiji’s eyes roll back into his head.

“ Fuck, ” he breathes, his head dropping back momentarily, and your mouth falls open more, your brain stunned into nothingness as you watch him masturbate to a video of you masturbating. As you realize that this isn’t just anyone watching one of your videos – liking one of your videos.

This is Akaashi Keiji.

Akaashi Keiji’s just given you the confirmation that you’re good at this, after so many weeks of feeling quite the opposite.

“Oh,” you breathe, the sticky heat of understanding washing over your skin. It worsens when he uses his free hand to tug his boxers down, making this ground feel suddenly a lot more equal.

Oh.

Akaashi keeps his eyes glued to his screen, and you catch a glimpse of your on-screen self coming more and more undone. You examine him closely while he watches it, too – his lips are swollen and wet from pursing and biting at them, and there’s a flush high on his cheeks and a hooded, hazy quality to his eyes that makes your stomach flip with nerves. His tongue darts out again, wetting his pink lips just as he’s parting them to sigh. 

Your eyes drop, watching how he slides his palm against his cock, slick with precum and making the most impolite, soft squelching sound whenever he flicks his wrist. Your thighs press together instinctively, a hard throb pulsing through your core when his hips jerk slightly. 

His breathing speeds up, as does the flick of his wrist, and you realize in the reflection that you must be starting to squirt. Akaashi grips the arm of his desk chair with his free hand and presses his lips together, his moan muffled but still audible. His hips jerk and stutter, and then his eyes roll back into his head again as he comes all over his hand and stomach, streaks of white painting the back of his hand and wrist.

His lips part in a gasp and a rough sigh as he’s coming down, and he slumps against his chair, breathing hard as he stares at nothing – the screen is dark in his glasses now. He drags his clean hand through his hair, tugging hard and breathing out a soft ‘ fuck ’. He breathes twice more, and then his eyes flick to his camera, as though he’s only just remembered it’s there.

He sees himself in the video and rolls his eyes immediately, a breathless laugh leaving him as he shakes his head and looks away.

“ Uh, ” he says, still laughing. He leans forward, reaching with his free hand for the phone, and shakes his head again. “ See you tomorrow, I guess.”

The video cuts there, leaving you with silence and a sudden, overwhelming attraction to Akaashi Keiji.

Oh.

[phntmeii]

Hil

Im not sure if your taking requests for writing, but if you are I was wondering if you could do a slashers × S/O who is very strong but doesn't look it?

If that makes sense...

Like the S/O is very sweet, short and small, like she looks petite and fragile but it turns out she can easily lift extremely heavy things, or can punch really hard.

Like even harder or stronger than the slasher.

If you could specifically add Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, (NBC) Hannibal and Will, and maybe Thomas Hetwit?

Sorry I don't know if that's too much to ask for, I just love your writing so much!

Being Stronger than Slashers .

[ SFW + Fem Terms]

Pairings: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Thomas Hewitt x petite!strong!Reader General Warnings: Descriptions of Gore/Blood, Violence, Slightly OOC, Descriptions of panic attack/episode, Manipulative behavior mention

A/N: ty anon for request <33 Back to slashers :) Sad I haven’t posted more of them literally in Halloween month but I’m working on it (last second lol) </33

Bo Sinclair

Absolutely turned on to the fucking max when he sees your strength.

Small, sweet partners was always his type. He just loves fulfilling the typical male stereotype of being a protector over his partner.

When he turned the corner, looking to finish off the last victim of the lot within his abandoned town, only to see something better.

He watched as you effortlessly were carrying the body of the victim over your shoulder like it was nothing. Head completely caved in, more of a mass of flesh and blood than an identifiable person. Your other hand held a bloodied hammer.

Bo was completely still, but not of fear. He was standing there like a man who had completely re-fallen in love again.

His eyes were shining as his grin grew wide. Approaching, he was nothing but prideful.

His voice was light with a chuckle, thumb brushing away the blood on your cheek. “Shit, sweetheart… Never knew a pretty girl like you was so… strong. I love it.”

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent was overprotective a lot of the time. He was insistent you were never near his work nor would you be involved when victims were in town.

He loved you too much to have you a part of him and his brothers’ work.

Vincent was slightly startled, hearing the door of his studio open. He knew both his brothers were out.

Seeing it was you, he approached, silently looking down at you. You could tell there was an air of disappointment at you being in his studio when he didn’t want you to be.

A ragged, strained voice spoke from behind his mask, “Why?”

With a shrug of your shoulders and a smile, you walked past him, further into the studio. “Bo said he needed a box in here.”

Watching you walk past, his eyes were hidden but widened as he watched you easily lift up a heavy table to look under it, scrolling past the items underneath it.

He approached confused but didn’t stop you. “Oh! Here it is!” Your arms held up a filled box of tools and parts.

Vincent followed you around curiously for the rest of the day like a shadow. He was completely fascinated by your strength, wanting to see it again.

Once you returned from helping Bo, Vincent couldn't let go of you. He kept his arms around you, head on your shoulder. His quiet, strained voice simply said, "Show me again... Please?"

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal always held an air of curiosity about you. Your sweet nature was like an untainted part of his life. A woman so far from himself.

Hannibal’s curiosity was never-ending. He took advantage of his intelligence to learn as much as he could. Stalking, Manipulative behaviors in “therapy”, etc.

You were almost always at his place. He liked it better that way although it provided some maintenance when it came to his extracurricular activities.

Hannibal had been making another of his fancy dinners for the two of you. The presentation had to be precise and perfect. Presentation was half the work for him.

He absentmindedly spoke while you were cutting vegetables beside him, “I have not set the chairs. I will do so in a moment, my love.”

Immediately, you wanted to assist. You always liked helping out. “I’ve got it!”

Watching you walk away, he expected to finish his current task before going off to assist you. Instead, he looked up to the doorway to see you easily walking past with a heavy wooden chair in each hand, easily carrying the two like they were just a stack of papers.

A small smirk curled at his lips as his hands slowed in their work. He whispered to himself, knowing his eager curiosity was not wasted, “You are… a delight, my love. You will make for something truly wonderful.”

Will Graham

Will was someone who was vigilant and aware. His mind always raced a million miles an hour with tiny observations and connections.

There was something about you but he just couldn’t place it.

But, what was there to prove? You were sweet and kind, seeming so far from what he knew. That was part of why he held love for you—You weren’t him.

Will was in his head again, silently panicked by his own mind. It was torturous to live in a prison of his own violent thoughts.

You were someone who always noticed. Always could pick up when these episodes started.

Holding his hands and speaking sweetly to him to draw him back to reality, unfortunately, wasn’t working this time.

His eyes kept darting back and forth while his breath quickened. With him standing still, quivering, you had to make the choice.

With simple ease, you picked Will up bridal style, walking away with him.

It took him a moment to realize what happened, breaking out of being inside his head. His eyes just stared at you when he was placed onto his bed, sweat drenching his forehead.

He broke out into a small smile, absentmindedly licking his lips, as was his habit. "I... didn't know you could do that."

"Is it a bad thing?"

"No. It's... really attractive, actually."

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy was always a protector. Toward his family, it was evident. A given. Toward you, it was an inherent need.

The last thing he'd ever want is for you to be hurt, especially when victims come around.

He would lead you and Luda Mae into a room, having you two barricade it while him and Hoyt took care of the unfortunate victims who made their way to the wrong home.

You waited, albeit anxiously. And it only grew once you heard a loud thud followed by Hoyt's yelling.

"Goddammit, Tommy! The fuck are you doin'?"

Immediately you knew something went wrong. Despite Luda Mae trying to keep you in the room, you ripped away the makeshift barricade on the door and rushed out.

Tommy was on all fours, holding the side of his head. A man, you assumed one of the few victims, held a hammer in his hand. He quivered holding it, as if horrified by his own self-defense.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest chair, pulling back and cracking it hard against the man. Aimed for his head, he dropped to the floor unconscious by the impact.

You rushed over to Tommy's side, panicked. "Tommy! Tommy! God- Are you okay?"

His arm just instinctively shot out and held you to his body, protecting you in his mind. He opened his eyes and looked past you to see the victim with broken wooden pieces of the chair on top of him.

With his mask on, his expression was hidden. But inside, his heart warmed at how you were strong enough to protect him too. His own protector.

[barbiiecams]

„need to know“ was so good omggg!! i literally wanted JD to find out and playfully slap his head „don’t even think about hurting her“💀🫣🤭

good over here

drew starkey x reader, proof im not dead! pt 2 to this.

you and drew have been together (sneaking around) for 2 weeks now. nobody has suspected a thing, and you were blessed to keep it that way.

not only this, but you also befriended odessa. you had your doubts about her, but she was actually chill and didn’t see drew like that at all. thank heavens.

not even she knew about what you two had going on, so currently, this was top secret.

right now you were at his apartment, cuddled up on top of him in the living room and watching princess and the frog on his tv.

“when do you think we should tell everyone?” you randomly said.

drew looked like he was in serious thought for a second. “maybe when your brothers dead? not sure.”

you laughed and hit his chest jokingly, him joining in too. it was still a new relationship, and there wasn’t a single soul to know yet. but you lowkey really wanted to show him off and vice versa.

his hand was massaging your head as the other rested on your back, and it was most definitely making you doze off every few minutes.

but you loved it so much. he was really your peace, and you were glad you didn’t give up on trying to convince him to give you a chance a couple of weeks ago.

you were dozing off a lot, really tired from previous activities. but you ended up staying awake after hearing a knock at the door.

drew’s eyebrows furrowed, signaling that he was just confused as you were.

“were you expecting someone today?” you asked him. but before he could answer, the person on the other side starting knocking again.

“open up! it’s me and austin!” the voice yelled. and you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

JD. your brother.

you couldn’t help the gasp that came out of you, then came drew quickly putting his hand over your mouth.

‘go upstairs,’ he mouthed, and all you could do was comply.

hurrying up the stairs, drew took off the the door. “damn, i’m coming!” he says while taking his time over to the door, just to ensure you were upstairs before he opened it.

you silently listen to their conversation from his bedroom. “what happened to asking if you can come over?” drew says. you can hear austin’s and JD’s footsteps walk into the apartment.

“pfft, like you care. what, you got a girl over or something?” austin teases, and JD snickers.

“what if i did?” drew responds. your eyes immediately roll at the fact he would say that knowing how damn nosy your brother can be.

“oh shit, MYSTERY GIRL, COME OUT HERE!” JD yells out into the house. you hear a slap then your brother saying “ow!” right after.

“nobody’s here, dimwit.” drew shuts him up. you then hear the three of them pull chairs out and sit, and you let out a quiet sigh knowing you were gonna be hiding for a long time.

because of this, you tuned out their conversations. you just used your phone, played with random stuff in his room, and also made mental notes to steal a few of his shirts once you could finally leave.

seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into an hour, and you were still sitting up in his room bored out of your mind. your weekly princess and the frog rewatch shouldn’t have been waiting this long.

you started watching TV in drew’s room, making sure the volume was low enough so that they couldn’t hear it, but also loud enough that you would still be able to.

but it must have been just a bit too loud, because you didn’t even realize that JD was now upstairs using the bathroom.

and you didn’t realize until it was too late.

you heard the toilet flush and the water finish running, but you didn’t even get the chance to process that before you heard your brother’s voice basically teleporting to drew’s room.

“he must still have my damn-” JD cuts himself off when he opens the door and sees you crisscrossed on the bed, frozen at the sight of him.

“y/n? the hell are you doing here? in drew’s room at that?” his face is plastered with confusion.

“umm…” was all you could get out.

“bro drew! why is y/n in your bedroom?” JD calls out to him, and austin immediately starts laughing.

“shut the fuck up.” drew says to austin before hurrying up the stairs. you literally didn’t know what to do. there was no excuse, no reason, no lie you could come up with as in to why you were in his house. let alone his room.

when drew made it upstairs to the entrance of his bedroom, seeing you in the same crisscrossed position you’ve been in, he started laughing.

“the fuck is so funny?” JD starts to raise his voice, and now austin was up the stairs himself wanting to see the scene with his own eyes.

drew walks over to the bed and sits down with you. “i guess we gotta tell him.”

this makes you giggle, “okay.”

“tell me what? don’t play with me. y/n i told you-”

“oh my goshhhh you don’t own me! i can date whoever i wanna date.”

“DATE?” your brother yells and austin’s jaw drops.

your eyes widen but the quickly relax as you put a hand out. “okay first off chill.”

JD was about to respond, but you were quick to start talking again. “years ago when i was 18, i could understand why it would’ve been a little wrong for me to see him. i’m 21, JD. if i wanna date a 30 year old i can.”

you can see drew’s face cringe from the corner of your eye, “well don’t say it like that.” you give him a quick look about his comment and austin busts out laughing once again.

JD glares at his other friend standing beside him then back to you. “i still don’t see how this is funny.”

you get up and walk over towards him. “i know you still see me as an annoying little sister who you need to protect at all times, but im really in good hands! drew is a great guy, wouldn’t you want me to be with someone like him?”

JD doesn’t respond. he just stays silent for a moment before speaking up. “that age gap don’t bother you?”

you shrug then sit back down. “i needed an actual man anyways.”

drew and austin both start chuckling once again when you say that, but your brother doesn’t find that funny and instead his face just shows disgust.

“whatever. that doesn’t explain why you’re in his room? hiding?” he says.

“it most definitely does. because look it how you reacted.” your eyes roll again.

the cat got your brothers tongue once again. but this time, he lets out a final sigh. a sigh that sounds like acceptance.

“does anyone else know?” he asks

you shake your head. “just you guys now.”

your brother nods, getting over his hinge of anger and not staying mad any longer.

“okay well, you can join us downstairs… i guess.” he speaks up after a few seconds of silence.

getting up from your spot and walking over to hug him, you chuckle at his small hesitation to really accept it even tho he has no other choice. you then make your way downstairs, austin and drew following behind you. before drew could leave tho, JD drops him.

“drew, im telling you man. if i ever have to hear her upset or crying over you-”

“don’t worry,” drew lets out a nervous laugh with his hands up in surrender. “she’s good over here.”

—

drewstarkey

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[florihye]

୨୧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀MY STAR. ♡⠀⠀──⠀⠀in which you're his star during dull nights.

朴成勋 ⟢ ⠀ wc627 ❜ warnings?! skinship. kissing x2. lowk corny.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀g. fem reader. bsf2lovers. non idol au.⠀⠀⠀𝜗𝜚⠀⠀library.

via's note.⠀⠀im so active guys. anyways. enjoy!!! i researched stars for this

the pure ivory stars glimmered in all their sinew, being the first things to greet you as you tip-toed eagerly towards the top of the cliff. moths sprawled all around you, floating around your frowning figure while you attempted to swat them away.

“yn,” a frost-kissed voice tumbled out from the depths of the night. you turned your head, a smile staining your face at the sight of sunghoon, who was seated with his legs dangling off the cliff, only illuminated by the molten moonlight.

“you told me to be here by midnight?” your hair cataracts down your back as you tilted your head slightly.

the boy patted the ground right next to him, seemingly inviting you to spend the cosy 12AM with him, to which you complied.

“and you’re here.”

“i am.”

“i’m glad.”

“me too.”

another wave of silence passed by the two of you like tumbleweed. you stared at your palms, inspecting every little crease and bruise in flesh.

had you said something wrong? why did it go so awkward so abruptly? was it always like this when the two of you hung out? surely not.

you sucked in the winter air, fiddling with the ends of your soft cashmere sweater. just as your mouth fell open to speak, sunghoon cut you off.

“yn, i know that we have a good friendship right now, which i’m so, so grateful for, but ever since we met, you’ve made me really, really happy. i think of you all the time, more than friends do. so…” the usually confident sunghoon you once knew seemed to have hidden himself, being swallowed by a new breathless, quiet one. “i love you.”

“really?” you utter softly.

sunghoon laughed. “wow. i just poured my heart out to you and you’re still questioning me? you’re something else, yn.”

there it was, the solace that you always searched for throughout every interaction. the solace that you always managed to find in sunghoon.

“well, actions mean more than words, y’know.” you teased, feeling delighted as sunghoon inched himself closer to you.

“actions? i’m good at that.” he leaned into your darling touch, giving your doe eyes one more glance before his gaze flickered to your rosy lips; you couldn’t even process the next few moments in which he had kissed you. it was short and sweet and simple (very sweet, too short and simple) and everything you could’ve asked for, plus more.

speaking of more, as soon as sunghoon pulled away from you, you didn’t waste a second to reconnect your lips. this second kiss was undoubtedly longer and rather fervent compared to the first. you lingered in the moment for as long as you could before having to move away for air, to your and his obvious dismay.

you let your arms drop to his chest, giggling at the dazed face that had overtook the boy. it wasn’t long before he parroted you, the cerulean night soon filling up with the sounds of teenage laughter.

the two of you eventually managed to settle down, the giggles dimming into a rather warm silence, nothing like the awkward one before.

sunghoon took your smaller hand into his own and guided it up to the dark blue horizon, pointing at a small, blazing cluster of stars.

“those stars over there? they’re called the pleiades cluster.” he whispered to you; you nodded slowly, absorbed by the riveting beauty of the stars.

“they are pretty, hoon.” you words slightly slurred as you were too busy observing the stars to take in your surroundings.

“pretty, indeed.”

from your peripheral vision, you could tell that sunghoon was staring at you, rather than the stars.

“the stars are up there, silly.”

“well my star is down here, right next to me.”

taglist open.⠀⠀@sainns @en-gelic @thenastone @xiaoderrrr @belovedsthings @cupidhoons @antoncyng @reverieki @a-dream-bookmark

[sewinrat]

YEAH UR WRITING IS AWESOME IM IN LOVE W THAT FIC!!!!N Im rlly sorry for forgetting write more details abt it!!

wondering if u could do Nyen x rat reader ^.^

ahahah sorry if Im requesting a lot Im js desperate n ur the only active ranfren fanfiction writer

It's fine. I understand. Also sorry I'm late with this thing

"Do you really have to hunt us everytime you see us?" You asked Nyen who is reading 'My Alter Ego Is A Turtle God Who Loves My Ex Boyfriend', from the ceiling in a hole. "My master is still stressed these days because of the last Christmas. His stress will only get worse if he saw a rat or a mouse roaming around," he replies - remarked - back to you while Still paying attention to his book. You raise an eyebrow at him, putting you chin on the palm of your hand and asked once more, "So why am I still here?"

Nyen didn't respond. Maybe he doesn't know. Why didn't he killed you? This is pretty rare of Nyen. Really rare actually and you're taking the opportunity to tease him, "Aww~ is the tom cat going soft for a little ol' me the rat?~" in a mocking baby voice.

"Shut up." He demands. He glared at you for a moment before going back to read. You laugh at him before you quiet down. You both sit around in silence for a while before you got tired and bored. You tried to turn back to crawl away but Nyen stopped you, "Why don't you just be with us?" This question made you physically stopped. "...What do you mean? I'm already part of the house!" you tried to joke it off.

"I mean, being one of the pets," he offered like it was possible. You sigh and look down at Nyen from the ceiling hole. "You know that's not possible, love." You lean down carefully to do an eskimo kiss(nose rub) to him as comfort. "Your master will never accept me as a pet. Maybe the kid with glasses will but I'm sure you don't want that," you rationalise with him. Nyen nods in disappointment.

You glance behind you back into the ceiling hole and gave Nyen one last kiss to the cheek. "I have to go now. I'll see you later. Our food are running out so I'm sure he'll attempt to get food from your fridge. I know you're still a cat but still, hold back a little will ya?" Nyen chuckles, "No promises."

[poppytuft]

the bear s3 spoilers

below the cut! thinking about claire and stuff we saw this season re: carmy/syd/the restaurant/donna, just finished the season so itll be a mess and also im comin in way too hot on this so my bad

sometimes...... sometimes i believe you guys are all watching different tv. im not sure how this season didnt feel like a direct through line from s2?? and im not sure WHY everyone is SO MAD about claire LITERALLY "haunting" this season. girl. come on. we need to have a sit down talk about how the berzatto generational trauma is the real meat of this show (this will make sense, just trust me). thats the MAIN EMOTIONAL POINT. syd's relationship with her dad, marcus and his mom, richie and evie, even tina and louie are all examples of parental relationships that are tender, sweet, supportive, etc. these are INTENTIONAL!! by creating these relationships we see PLAINLY how fucked donna is and how much she fucked up all of these kids. thats why "ice chips" was such a FANTASTIC episode. there was SO MUCH unpacked, so much revealed, so much worked through with sugar and her but at the end of the day she's still learning how to unlearn all of this horrific narcissistic bullshit. SHES STILL UNLEARNING THOUGH. thats where fucking DONNA of all people sits right now——somehow, she's learning how to heal. EVERYONE IS LEARNING. that's also what is so important about that episode.

now lets look at carmy. in "ice chips" we are LITERALLY told about how each berzatto is born: mikey fighting against the idea of being alive at all, nat into a quiet, soothing room, and CARMY is fucking born into EVERYONE SCREAMING and ARGUING and FIGHTING. we are BLATANTLY told that all carmy has ever known is HELL and all he's ever known how to communicate is through exploding. this is so violently against what we also know about his personality from childhood in "fishes" (anxious growing up, arts-oriented, had a hard time making friends). now, he works a violently stressful job, processing the trauma from both his mother (and chef fields [joel mchale], realistically) through the high-stress environment.

NOW. ENTER CLAIRE.

HOW is she not fascinating to you all. we don't see her whole story (because the bear, duh) but we are given just enough pieces here to put together that her story runs parallel to carmy's. how are you not getting this. walk with me.

claire. glasses, nerdy, quiet, sweet, girl next door. family friend! cute, but considered mid for a long time by everyone at school, but suddenly the berzatto men all badger carm, "oh she got a glow up, oh shes looking for you, she wants to see you," etc etc etc. what happened in between?

she finds herself. she finds the stressful thing she LOVES, which is the hospital. her job is objectively more stressful than carmy's (illustrated by that scene earlier in the season but i forgot the episode, where claire talks about the girl who got her shit wrecked by the glass table), and while we don't have an exact understanding of what her home life was like, we understand that her and carmy both have a level of internal anxiety that thrives on the stress of their careers. HOWEVER, claire does it because she loves it. carmy just doesn't know how to stop.

this is what makes claire feel like "peace" to carmy——because her high-stress job is a choice, an active choice she is making because it fulfills her. it's not to prove her dead brother wrong, or to honor his own legacy, or to prove that dickbag boss wrong, or to leave a mark on the world, or to make her own life worthwhile, or to prove that she doesn't need anyone else. she genuinely enjoys helping people even when the days are stressful, or scary. he's obsessed with this. he wants to know how she does this. every day she leaves that stress at home——and he wants to learn how to do that too.

claire is VITAL to this season and to understanding carmy's stress——and how far back he is in his healing process. it should only become more and more apparent, as we see characters like tina (the beef/the bear became vital to her success/development as a chef AND person, both for the people AND her love of food), marcus (not hiding his grief, but using it to help rationalize how much his mother loved him and wanted to be surrounded by people that love him), and richie (finding a purpose through service/expo and understanding he can start over again) push through their own traumas and struggles to become better people. if donna can be not only present at sugar's bedside during labor, but WELCOMED at this point in the show, it makes carmy's inability to heal all the more present. claire is an important part of this puzzle: she helps us see a window into a world where carmy is balanced emotionally, but unbalanced professionally, because he has no idea how to make the two coexist.

however, the idea that he can be balanced emotionally at all is so fucking enticing——with the help of someone who experiences stress in the same way as him (and who is familiar with his familial trauma), he has the opportunity to grow up and move on from his family trauma and wounds perpetuated by the industry he works in.

on the flip side of this....... his inability to process any of this is starting to impact syd. and frankly, that's some bullshit. his lack of communication, inability to community build/trust ANYONE, and his violent stubbornness is pushing her into the same space that he was in under chef fields, in a much slower, more subtle manner, and for slightly different reasons. her panic attack at the end of the season could read in two directions to me: her stress over the responsibility of changing so many people's lives has boiled over once she remembered that the beef once was truly great (hey five star review on the fridge!), OR, she realizes how much she isn't in it for the food. fuck a Michelin star: she wants to cook with her family. chef terry says at the end of "forever", in the garage with carmy, that she's so grateful she got to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, where she wanted, with the people she wanted to do it with. sydney is so close to having those things at the bear——but carmy's dysfunction is keeping it just out of arms reach. the two of them are now on opposite sides of the approach from last season: syd dying for a star, and carmy dying to cook for the woman he loved. now, carmy is hungy for recognition again, desperate to prove something, and sydney is remembering (thanks to the conversation with other chefs during the ever funeral service) why she loved cooking in the first place. so this leaves us to wonder: should she stick it out? for the people? or make something of herself? is she carmy, or is she terry? i guess we will just have to see.

all this to say: every character is connected. the bear is a show about family, found and blood, and the choices we make for, with, and because of the people we love, for better or for worse. food is only the center of it, because it's the center of all of our lives. you can't hate claire without understanding where she sits in the web of the berzatto family. and really, you can't hate her if you understand what her presence means for carmy, for syd, and the restaurant as a whole.

[timtamtomme]

GUESS IM STILL ON THET TF2 GRIND--- Ever since I resketched them all in my new style, I have been thinking about ACTALLY designing my merc ocs!! SO I FINALLY DID!! Plus they all share colors, proper, so they look so nice together!! I kina miss their story, so I'll see about exploring that more too.

Of course, to show off their scars and features, I also made a bare version! This will likely double as dress up dolls for future outfits I may make LMAO

Though a couple share names with cannon TF2 mercenaries, their lore and personalities have long since branched off from their canonical counterparts. If you're interested in some details about them, here's a quick mini-bio for each one!! I'm also open to answering any questions about them, because they have at least 6 years of history behind them, haha!

BLU MEDIC ~ Hannes Augesburt

German ~ He/Him ~ Demiromantic Bisexual Hannes is the closest you can get to the 'villain' of the story without looking beyond the mercenaries themselves. He's an egotistical sadist who wants nothing but complete and utter control of his team. He will do anything to win, even willingly replace his perfectly working arm for a far more powerful alternative.

BLU ENGINEER ~ Dallas "Dell" Conagher

American (Texas) ~ He/Him ~ Homosexual Dallas is a nepobaby for sure, only working for BLU because of his father and fathers father's loyalty to the Administrator. Graduating college for the first time at age 15, Dallas is an incredibly intelligent man, but all of that goes out the door when it comes to Hannes. He is extremely permissive and rarely has the guts to talk back or otherwise disobey the Medic's orders.

BLU SNIPER ~ Bernard {>REDACTED<}

French ~ He/Him ~ Homosexual No one really knows who he is or what he's about. Bernard spends most of his time alone doing god knows what; half the time he isnt even in the BLU Base when they're off work. The closest thing he has to a friend is the pyro, who has done what she can to include him in group activities to get him out of his room. The most personal thing she's discovered that he has a knack for knitting and crochet.

BLU PYRO ~ Ana Maria Garcia-Lopez

Mexican-American (Kansas) ~ She/Her ~ Pansexual Ana is a passionate and confident woman. She does what she can to inspire confidence in her team and lend them a hand whenever she can. The glue who keeps everyone together, she is often the first to rebuttal the Medic's commands if she perceives him going too far, though she's gotten a lot more quiet since the introduction of his new robotic arm. She fears what he's capable of.

RED HEAVY ~ Mikhail "Misha" Medved

Russian ~ He/Him ~ Heterosexual The often quiet muscle of the Red team, Misha spends most of his free time reading in the public spaces of the RED Base. He enjoys listening to others ramble and replies infrequently. However, when he feels like he has something to say, he is a loud and boisterous personality who has no shame or fear in his own opinions and humor.

RED SPY ~ Jourdain "Dain" {>REDACTED<}

French ~ He/Him ~ Bisexual An almost complete recluse, Jourdain takes no joy or comfort in interacting with his team; at least, that's what he lets on. Jourdain is a man who's so deeply fearful of getting hurt, that he refuses to let anyone get close enough to have the opportunity, and thus, he only spends time with his team during work hours. He does his job well and doesn't even slack on it, even though he believes it to be below him compared to his old jobs.

RED SCOUT ~ Nora Peterson

French-American (Massachusetts) ~ She/Her (Transfem) ~ Sapphic Bisexual Nora is a loud and proud Bostonian girl who has a love of sports and art. After she dropped out of art college, she needed to make up for the wasted tuition and pay back her mother, so she got a job fast. The first one she could find and paid the most was a mercenary job, though she didn't know what it actually was at the time. Since arriving here, she has settled in well, and soon settled into herself with her transition. Being a mercenary is terrifying at times, but she's felt freer then she has ever felt before.

[harringtown]

the stars that light the road

a/n: the writers block has been Real these last few weeks and im basically in the middle of 3 fics so I just said screw it and set them aside for the moment and started something completely new to try and trick writing brain and it definitely worked cuz I word vomited like 3 thousand words <3 

requested by anonymous

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: the reader comes to take care of Steve after star court (aka the guy who takes care of everyone is actually taken care of for once, plus some love confessions ofc)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cursing, blood/injury mention

-

Steve’s house always felt empty to him as a kid, even during what he ironically refers to as the golden years. Aka, the years before his parents realized how little they cared for each other and for him, when they were home every day—and every night.

When the world almost ended the first time, Steve was grateful for his hollow halls. If his parents weren’t around, they couldn’t get hurt, and they couldn’t ask any questions. He felt that way the second time, too.

This time, though, round three, coming back to a big, dark, empty house only makes his wounds ache fiercer. Every step and breath as he heads through the halls, flipping on every single light in every single room, echoes louder than Steve thinks it should.

Maybe he should have gotten checked out by the EMT’s.

Once he’s lit the house up bright enough to be seen from the moon, he just sits down on the bottom step of his staircase. He suddenly doesn’t care about the ratty, blood-stained uniform he’s wearing. Or the fact that he reopened the cut above his eyebrow and blood is actively trickling down one side of his face and falling in tiny droplets onto the stair.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He should track down his first aid kit. He should do a lot of things. Instead of doing a single one, he just sits.

Getting up would mean dealing with everything that’s happened and doing it alone, again, like always. And he’s tired. Every time he closes his eyes he sees that Russian doctor’s face, and he swears the electrical hum of the base followed him home.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when the knock echoes on the door a few feet in front of him. He jumps to his feet, immediately pissing off his injuries, and blinks the haze out of his eyes as he unlocks the door.

He doesn’t even stop to consider who might be on his porch, mostly because it can’t be anyone but a random neighbor or a mailman who is running ridiculously late on his route.

It isn’t a mailman or a neighbor, though.

It’s you. Your hair still damp from a shower, wearing sweats and an old Hawkins High hoodie, with ugly bruises cresting across any bare skin. Standing on Steve’s front porch a few hours after he left you in the parking lot of what used to be Starcourt Mall, and is now a pile of smoke and ash.

And he has no goddamn clue why.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks, craning his head to peer around you. He isn’t sure what he expects to see—a monster running behind you—but it isn’t a calm, empty street. It isn’t a peaceful, quiet night. “Did something happen?”

You frown, brows twitching. “What? No, nothing happened.” You clear your throat. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay. Y’know. After everything today. I figured I’d check up on you.”

An unfamiliar sensation blooms in Steve’s chest. It starts out warm, but burns hotter and hotter as it crawls up the back of his throat and cinches it shut. He swallows forcefully, and he can still taste the metal twinge of blood.

“You figured you’d… check up on me?” The words have a meaning, but Steve can’t quite attach it.

“Uh, yeah,” you say. You press your lips together and rock back and forth on your heels. “You almost died, like, multiple times today.”

He remembers. His throat is still raw from begging.

“Huh. Must have slipped my mind,” he says, forcing one side of his mouth to lift, though he knows the half-smile falls flat.

“Yeah, well, you got hit pretty hard in the head. A bunch. I’m not surprised.” Your lips pull in a tiny smile as you speak, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. There’s something rigid to your expression and stance, and if Steve didn’t know better, he’d say you’re worried.

But he doesn’t know what’s left to worry about. The Mind Flayer is a pile of melted goo, and Billy is dead, and for now, the Upside Down is dealt with. All that’s left to do is pick up the pieces, but none of those pieces are here.

“So, can I come in?”

Steve says yes, because he doesn’t have a reason to say no. He never has when it comes to you. He steps back and out of the way, letting you slip past him and into the house.

And he swears, somehow, the cold house gets a little warmer with you inside it.

“You still haven’t treated that?” you ask, gesturing to the bloody mess of his face. “Steve—”

“I was getting to it,” he says. He locks the door behind you, using the second he’s turned away to compose himself. He’s still not sure why you’re here—you told him, but he doesn’t get it. Like, of all the people you could check up on, how did you end up here?

“Getting to it? Jesus—” You flutter about him like a frightened hen, hands ghosting up and down his arms, across his chest, over the dried blood and the slashed fabric. “You’ve got to get out of these clothes. Take a shower. God forbid something gets infected—”

“It’s not a big deal,” Steve says, lightly swatting your hands away.

“It’s absolutely a big deal,” you say. “In the last twelve hours, you’ve been held captive, interrogated, drugged, and also, part of a pretty bloody battle. It’s a big deal.”

“You were there, too,” Steve says lamely. As if he needs a reminder. The only thing that hurt more than being hit was watching it happen to you and not being able to do a damn thing to stop it.

“Uh-uh. Don’t even try that.” You shake your head. “You don’t think I know your game?”

“Game?” Steve asks.

“In the base. Anytime those guards so much as looked at Robin or me, you started running your mouth, pissing them off enough to draw the fire so it didn’t burn us. You’re the reason all I have to show for the day are a few bruises and scrapes.”

Steve’s lips part, but he can’t find any words to say. He’s just shocked you caught on. He shouldn’t be, but he is.

“I—” Steve starts.

You cock a brow, and Steve gives in, shrugging his shoulders.

“Better me than you or Robin,” he says. “I’ve been through worse.”

Except, he’s not so sure that’s true anymore. He’s told himself those words so many times, after each horrible, nightmare-inducing thing, but the truth is, each time is worse than the last.

That pattern doesn’t exactly bode well for him.

Your lips pull into a thin line. Steve can’t read your expression, but it makes something deep in his chest ache.

“I’m gonna ask you a question, and I want you to tell me the truth,” you say.

“That’s not ominous, or anything,” he says, trying at casualness like it’ll erase his blood and bruises.

“I’m serious,” you say.

Steve exhales sharply and says, “Shoot.”

A line forms between your brows.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

And he has no clue what to say.

The Steve who opened the door to you tonight is in no way the Steve from high school, who was confident and smooth and knew exactly what to say, but he’s still partly that guy. And if the situation was reversed—if it was him at your door, you with the injuries—he’d have this in the bag.

But no one has ever shown up at Steve Harrington’s door simply to make sure he’s okay.

Maybe that’s the reason he tells you the truth.

“No,” he says. “I’m not.”

Something inside him breaks as he says the words. Like he’s been held together by a clump of string for years, and the last one finally frays and snaps.

A sob climbs up his throat, and he tries to swallow it back down, but before he can, you’ve crossed the foyer and wrapped your arms around him. You bury your face in his chest and your fingers curl tight into the fabric of his shirt, and you’re warm and soft and even if you still smell a little bit like ash, Steve doesn’t care.

He stops fighting it. Lets all the horrible feelings, all the fear and loss and grief and regret, out of the cage he’s kept them locked in. He doesn’t even care how he must look, shaking in your arms, tears streaming silently down his cheeks and into your hair.

But you don’t seem to care, either, just holding him tight and whispering, “I’ve got you,” over and over. And he believes you. Just for a minute, in the dim front room, he believes you.

Eventually, Steve forces himself to extricate his limbs from yours, and he has to pretend the sudden loss of touch doesn’t sting. He’s already crossed all the lines he set so he wouldn’t ruin one of the few friendships he has.

“Look, it was cool of you to come over, but you really don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Or, I will be. I always am, you know—” Steve waves at nothing, both his hands raised.

“Stop.”

Your fingers close around his wrists, stilling them in their wild gesturing. Steve freezes, too, eyes snapping to yours.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your first aid kit?” you ask.

Steve sighs. “Bathroom.”

“Lead the way.”

-

You don’t leave after Steve’s many wounds have been disinfected and messily bandaged. And you’re still there when he gets out of the shower you order him into; he comes back into his bedroom to find you digging blankets and spare pillows out of the back of Steve’s closet.

It’s a clear message: you’re not going anywhere. Steve is so damn grateful he doesn’t have to ask for the company, he could kiss you.

Add it to the long, long list of reasons Steve Harrington wants to kiss you.

He stands in the bathroom doorway a moment, just watching you for a half a shorter longer than is not-creepy, before clearing his throat. You turn and a smile lifts your lips. Still, there are deep bags under your eyes, and your movements as you make a bed on the floor are slow, like you’re sore.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” Steve says, leaning a hip into the doorway and folding his arms over his chest.

“What, are you volunteering?”

“Me? Not a chance,” he says. “If you remember, I was held captive, interrogated, and drugged today.”

You roll your eyes at his

“So, you’re kicking me out, then?”

“No,” Steve says, and loses all his confidence. He clears his throat. “I mean, my bed isn’t exactly small, and we’re both mature adults, so I figured we could handle—” He gestures wordlessly, hoping he doesn’t have to finish the sentence.

To his relief, you just nod a few times, suddenly refusing to meet his eye.

It’s quiet as the two of you flutter about before sliding in on opposite sides of the bed. It’s awkward, but not as awkward as Steve expects.

It’s more awkward because it feels normal. It feels like getting into bed with you is an action he was always meant for, and he doesn’t mean sex.

He means, a little house and a white picket fence and his glasses on the bedside table. A stack of your books on the other and your shoes on the floor at the end of the bed and a little dog or cat that you and Steve named something goofy.

A beautiful little life, and it starts here, with him climbing silently onto a creaky mattress with you tonight to do nothing other than sleep.

Maybe he got hit harder in the head than he realized.

You and Steve lay flat on your backs, hands at your sides, only a few inches between you despite Steve’s earlier boasting about the bed’s size. If he moved, or you did, you’d be touching.

“I really thought you were going to die down there,” you say after a few minutes of quiet. Steve wasn’t sure you were still awake. “I thought they were going to kill you. Robin and I didn’t know what they were doing to you, but every few minutes, we heard your screams, and I swear—” You stop. Pause. “It scared the hell out of me.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say. Before he can figure something out, you go on, “If something happened to you, if I actually lost you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

And now Steve really has no clue what to say.

“You’d be okay,” he says. “And you don’t have to worry about me. You really don’t.”

“Yeah, I do,” you say. “Because if I don’t, who will?”

Steve stiffens. “I don’t need anybody’s pity—”

“It’s not pity, you idiot,” you say, angry and Steve isn’t sure why, isn’t sure what he said to piss you off. “I mean, three years now, I’ve watched you put everybody else first. You throw yourself in front of every single bullet from every single gun. And then, at the end of the fight, nobody… thanks you for it. I mean, you’re the only person who never really had a stake in this fight, but you stayed, because it was the right thing to do. Seeing people take that for granted, over and over, it kills me.”

Steve is quiet for a moment.

“What do you mean, the only one without a stake?” he asks. He rolls onto his side to face you, and though you dart a glance his way, your gaze drifts back to the ceiling.

“I mean, this all started with Will Byers, right? So, it makes sense that Mike and Dustin and Lucas were part of the fight. And then there’s El, which is self explanatory. Nancy and Jonathan were in it for their brothers. Joyce for her kid, and Hopper for Joyce. But you, Steve Harrington, you let Dustin into your car, and you drove onto the battlefield, and you never left. Haven’t you ever wondered why that is?”

“Because I’m an idiot, or I have a death wish, or both?”

“Funny,” you say. “You’re a good man, Steve. I really wish you could see it. I wish everyone could see it.”

“Me too,” he says quietly, so quietly he’s not sure he can hear.

You inhale. “You make me so mad sometimes, you know.”

“Not really a shock,” Steve says. “It’s kind of my thing.”

“No, that’s not—I don’t mean that. I mean, yeah, sometimes, but—” You turn your head and meet his eyes. This time, you don’t look away. “But you’re one of the smartest, toughest, bravest people I’ve ever met in my life, and I love the hell out of you for it, and it pisses me off because you still just see yourself as this asshole who deserves all the crap that comes at him. And you don’t.”

Affection swells in his chest, and it’s so big he can barely breathe, but it’s the best feeling in the world. He doesn’t even decide to kiss you. One second, he’s on his own pillow. The next, he lifts a hand to your cheek and lifts his head, leans in, presses his lips to yours.

And you kiss him back. You roll toward him, into his arms, and your hands are in his hair and your breaths are hot and uneven against his lips, and hell, all the alcohol and drugs in the world have nothing on you. Steve thinks he could do this forever.  

It’s only when his brain starts to turn itself back on a few minutes later that he breaks away, forehead dipped against yours, and says, softly, “I love the hell out of you, too.”

You tilt your chin up, mouth finding his again, and you’re both smiling, limbs entangled and sheets twisted around you.

“And I kind of like when you take care of me,” he whispers.

“Good,” you say. “Because you should get used to it.”

“That sounds like a promise.”

“It is,” you say, “and I intend on keeping it.”

And though Steve hasn’t seen much but broken promises, he believes you. He kisses you again, and he can taste the truth on your lips.

-

taglist (join here!): @milkiane​ @spideyboipete​ @robiin-buckley​ @robinbuckleyssgf​ @la-fille-en-aiguilles​ @sunlitide​ @cityofidek​

[bullet-prooflove]

Future Building - Michael 'Riz' Ariza x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @anime-weeb-4-life @danzer8705 @mysoulisasunflower @msjava1972 @adaydreamaway08 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @wakeama @librarian1002 @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @purrrrfect

Riz builds you a house. It’s situated on the edge of his land, near the pond that the two of you skinny dip in during the summer months.

It started as a joke, something Taza mentioned whilst Riz was recovering from his injury after the motorcycle accident. You’d been running around after him playing nursemaid, keeping him fed, watered and medicated. He hated that you had to do it, but you had shushed him, your fingertips brushing the hair away from his face as you kissed him and told him not to worry.

“You should marry her.” Taza had said after you’d disappeared off into the bathroom for a shower. He sets the coffee down in front of Riz before taking the seat across from him at the kitchen table. His leg is stretched out in front of him because of the knee brace. He has a fracture and a torn ligament, he’s already been told off by Stitches for not looking after himself, for trying to be too mobile.

“Technically she is still married.” Riz tells Taza, bringing the cup to his lips. “After what happened with her ex… she decided it wasn't worth the fight, trying to divorce him.”

The club had a part to play in that. Your ex was a sheriff and could do alot of damage of you'd continued to push for it.

He trails off shaking his head. Your marriage had been messy, fraught. You’d felt trapped the entire time you were married, stifled by the man who had intentionally knocked you up and then smacked you around when you’d told him you’d gotten an abortion.

“She’s been a Godsend since the accident.” Riz says, his thumb chasing up the side of the mug. “I wanna take the next step, show her I’m invested in our future. I just don’t know what that is.”

“You could build her a house.” Taza says half seriously. “You’ve got all that land just sitting there, we’re in a quiet spell at the minute. I’m sure Gilly would be glad for the work.”

“I can’t just build a house.” Riz laughs before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Why not?” Taza says with a shrug. “The two of you love it out there, it’s quiet, you can see the stars, you can make as much music as you want without the neighbours complaining. You can rent this place out, have some passive income.”

Riz pauses for a second, his mug still clasped in his hand as he considers Taza’s words. The things is the more the other man says, the more Riz is starting to like the idea. You’ve never had a place of your own, a space that’s just for you. He could build a little studio just off the house, somewhere you could go to play and create. He likes that idea; he likes it a lot. He can afford it, the two of you live conservatively, and the money he’s earned from his illicit activities he puts aside, he’s never really realised what for until now.

When he pulls up outside the finished product, it’s better than he could have imagined. It’s a beautiful three-bedroom bungalow, with cream masonry and dark wood outlining the exterior windows and doors. The yard still needs a little work, Neron and Bottles are laying down flags while Lila digs out the flowerbeds along the edges of the space.

Gilly steps out through the open front door, using a rag to clean his hands as he stands on the porch.

“So what do you think?” He says gesturing at the house.

Riz grins as he puts his hands on his hips.

“She’s gonna love it.”

Love Riz? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[jewbeloved]

Some places aren't what they just seem to be...🩸🩸♥️

Note: Have this horror fanfic as my way of bringing back my spicy fanfics. I'm kinda losing motivation and I have hell (school) on my tail .⁠·⁠´⁠¯⁠`⁠(⁠>⁠▂⁠<⁠)⁠´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠.

Warnings: Murder, bl00D and Knives....mentions of drugs (in the beginning).

Gender: Neutral

💙💚 The Main Four 🧡❤️

You were dropped off to a nearby orphanage by the police after both of your parents passed away due to drug overdose.

The orphanage looked very fancy and aesthetic from the exterior. You wondered what the inside of the building looked like.

When you walked into the building, you were met with a lot of children your age running around, chatting with each other, playing games together, and playing tricks on each other.

You noticed one of the maids walked up to you with a bright smile on her face.

"Hello there dear, are you by any chance the new orphan that we were getting today?". You looked up at her with a blank expression.

"Uhm...yeah, that's me...".

"Well it's lovely to meet you, I can ensure you that you will love it here at the orphanage! What is your name, little one?".

"(Name) (Last Name)".

"(Name)....what a beautiful name! come, let me give you a tour around the orphanage since it's your first time here".

The kind maid showed you every room and area that was around the orphanage. They had a dining hall where the orphans could get their food, they had showers so the orphans could take a bath, they had a library for any orphans who were interested in books.

They even had dorms for where the orphans could sleep and rest up their energy.

You were surprised to hear that there were 40 orphans and 5 maids at this orphanage.

Once the tour was over, the maid gave you comfortable clothes to wear for the day and allowed you to go talk with the other kids.

You spotted 4 boys chatting with each other. One of them seemed to be arguing with the chubby one while the other 2 just watched.

The kid with the orange parka was the first one to noticed you and he waved at you before his other friend in the blue and red beanie looked at you as well.

"Hey, aren't you the new kid?" The kid in the blue and red beanie asked you.

"Yeah, that's me..who are you guys?". You looked at them puzzled.

"Right names, I'm Stan Marsh and this one next to me is Kenny Mccormick...the one in the green ushanka is Kyle Broflovski. And the fatass is Eric Cartman". Cartman immediately looked away from Kyle and at Stan in anger.

"IM NOT FAT YOU GODDAMN EMO HIPPIE!!". Stan rolled his eyes at Cartman's anger towards him while you just stared at the boys with a "•_•" face.

"Alright then...my name is (Name) (Last Name)". They all gave you a thumbs up while Cartman was still pissed off and crossing his arms.

"Mhppmhhhhmmphhhmmmhh". You looked at Kenny with a confused face since you didn't understand what he said.

"Um, what was that Kenny? I'm afraid I don't follow on what you said".

"He said: 'Do you want to hang out with us?'". Stan translated for Kenny.

"Oh...sure!". Your face began to lighten up as you assume this orphanage wouldn't be as bad as the rumors say.

What rumors? No need to worry! those are just said by silly people....this orphanage is perfectly okay!

You ended up spending time with the boys during the "daily activities" the maids gave out for all of the orphans to do and have fun.

You got to know the boys better and they got to know you better as well. You didn't understand why the other kids would call them "problematic". They say that the boys would swear at each other or other orphans, always talking to each other during quiet time, and getting into some fights (Kyle and Cartman).

But you didn't see them do any of those things because they have been so nice and chill around you, but if many orphans were saying it. You didn't care anyways since you were glad you had at least some company instead of going the whole day being awkward while living in a orphanage full of 40 kids in total. (THATS A LOT).

When dinner time came, the maids had all of you dress up in special uniforms for the occasion.

You were confused on why you have to dress in uniforms to eat some food, but you couldn't complain until you see how the food they serve here tastes.

You got in line while holding your trey, the orange-haired maid placed (your favorite food) onto your trey while giving you a glass of milk with it.

Milk at dinner?? I expected to at least get some juice or (your favorite drink).... You thought inside your mind as you left the line to find a table to sit at to eat.

Kyle motioned for you to come over and sit with him and his friends. You sat down at their table and noticed that they all had a glass of milk on their trey as well.

You then looked around to see a few other kids (6 of them) have a glass of milk on their treys too while the rest didn't... was this normal?

"Hey....uhm...do they serve anything else besides milk? or are they just out of stock?". You asked the boys as you pointed to your milk.

"Well, they normally do now because that's all everyone really wants now. You'll get used to it eventually (Name)". Stan said as him, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny began eating their food.

You eyed your food and milk while glancing up at them back and forth. You signed and began eating your food as well while ignoring your milk for a while.

You heard a little cough from the boys and the other 6 kids when they drank their glass of milk.

You immediately looked up at your friends. "Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny? are you guys alright?".

They were silence for a couple of secs before they snap back into reality. "Yeah, we're fine it's no big deal really".

You looked at them confused and eyed your own glass of milk, you picked it up and looked closer at it until you..saw that it was...

Spoiled...

Your eyes widened. "Guys! you just drank spoiled milk!". You panicked as they gave you a concern look.

"What are you talking about (Name)? the milk wasn't spoiled it was fresh, did you hit your head or did Kahl jewness aura hurt-". Kyle pushed Cartman out of his chair with him letting out a "OW!".

"But but-! I just looked at my milk and it was spoiled!". You tried to defend yourself you didn't understand why they were being so calm about this as if it was a normal routine.

Before you could say something else to them, the maids have announced that all orphans should go to their dorms to get ready for the night.

"Oh Jesus finally! I get some goddamn fucking rest after so many hours!".

"Shut up fatboy! you barley participated in anything since this morning!". Kyle and Cartman began arguing back and forth with each other as you watched your 4 friends walk out of the dinning hall.

You signed as you got up from your seat and followed everyone else to the dorm area. All of the other dorms were occupied except for the room that had only one bed in it..it looked a little ragged but it was still comfortable to sleep on, it even had a small candle on the nightstand to light up the room.

You took off your uniform and began to change into some nice warm clothes to sleep at night.

"Oh well, I hope nothing weird will happen at night...". You locked the door and climbed into your bed before falling asleep.

After 2 hours, you woke up to some growling noises. You were half asleep as you rubbed your eyes wondering what that noise was. You shrugged it off since you were lucky your room door was locked anyways.

When you tried to go to asleep, you heard a loud scream that sounded like one of the orphans. You immediately jumped out of your bed at the sight of the scream wondering what was going on outside of your dorm.

You picked up the candle that was on your nightstand and held it close to your face, not close to enough to burn you.

What was that scream just now? It sounded more like a scream of horror....

After 3 mins you heard another loud scream and then another following after that one. You were getting nervous and you wanted to know what the hell was going on...if you remembered, people always said the rumors about this orphanage are what happened at night...

You were snapped out of your thinking as you heard some kids banging on your door letting to be in as they cried for help. Your body was shaking a little at their cries.

"PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!" "HELP US, THERE ARE COMPLETE PSYCHOS OUT HERE KILLING US! THERE'S 10 OF THEM, PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!". The crying kids continued to beg and bang on your door.

The crying and yelling was soon replaced by stabbing noises and more loud screams. You saw something red splattered onto the glass window of your door...is that...

Blood...?

You were now having second thoughts about opening the door since you were sure that some killer must be inside of the orphanage now...why weren't the maids doing anything at all???

This continued until 27 screams were heard and then the alarm began to go off. Your door was unlocked automatically when the alarms went off.

You heard a maid telling the orphans to run to something they call "bunker". Everyone ran straight to the bunkers immediately.

You ran out of your room as well trying to follow the remaining orphans to safety. As you were almost out of the hall, somebody grabbed your hand while placing a knife near your neck.

You were flabbergasted and turned around to see your attacker, it was one of the orphans except their entire body was twitching like crazy as if they were possessed.

They had a evil smile on their face as they saw the fear in you. Another orphan with a knife in their hand was in front of you, their whole body was twitching like crazy as well.

You were confused, scared, and shocked. You had no need what was going on and why there was suddenly some orphans going completely nuts and killing everyone.

You looked at the psycho in front of you and saw something white dripping from their mouth.

Was that...milk?

Your eyes widened even more as you remember the time you heard coughing from Kyle, Stan, Cartman, and Kenny when they drank the milk after you discovered it was spoiled.

You were sure that the spoiled milk could've given them a bad stomachache, but it seems like it did something else other than that.

You didn't have anymore time to think as the 2 psychos were ready to stab you dead.

That was instantly stopped when you saw they were pulled back and dragged away at the same time.

2 screams and blood splattering were heard at the same time meaning it must've came from the 2 psychos who were trying to kill you. But how? that happened so fast in a short amount of time....

Thankfully you still had your candle and you shined it around until you saw 4 boys which looked exactly like the ones you befriended when you first came to this orphanage...

"Stan..? Kyle...? Cartman...? Kenny...?". You were shaking uncontrollable in fear because so much has happened since nightfall came...

Their bodies were twitching crazily as well. You wanted answers and you wanted them now..

"What is going on here?! why are all 4 of you holding knives and drenched in blood?! I want answers please!!". The boys stayed silent as they look at each other.

"Guys should we really tell them?". Stan asked as Kyle and Kenny nodded except for Cartman who shaked his head.

"No way, they'll just fucking rat us out!". You had a confused mixed with anger expression on your face as you looked at them.

"What are you guys talking about?! Everything seemed normal and happy when I first came here, but now things started to get weird at the diner hall where we were only given "milk" and that weirdness lead to all of this bloodshed at night! You guys know what's happening in this orphanage and I want answers!". You were on the verge of tears while your anger was still showing.

Stan signed and decided to speak up.

"Basically....this orphanage is about survival...we can't blame you for acting this way. The spoiled milk the maids served us is the calayist leading to all of this bloodshed".

"What do you mean? how can spoiled milk be the cause of this?? isn't it supposed to give you a bad stomachache because when things are spoiled it means they usually god bad!".

"That's usually what spoiled things would do, but this milk doesn't work that way. All of our visions went red when drank the milk after we finished coughing".

"You guys make it seem like this is a normal routine!!".

"Duh, because it is. once you drink the spoiled milk the maids give you, you become a threat to other orphans who didn't drink the milk".

"Goddamnit Cartman, can't you be nice to people for once?!". Kyle yelled at Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, but the word "nice" doesn't work in my dictionary for jews".

You didn't even noticed that sun had already raised up and all of the blood that was around the place was gone and the boys were no longer twitching or had a knife in their hands.

"No...no....this has to be a dream...it has to be...". You sulked down on the floor next to the wall while your hands were wrapped around your legs.

"The rumors about this orphanage...were true after all...but why isn't this reported to the police....? don't tell me the walls of this sick place is soundproofed!". You couldn't hold back your tears as they streamed down your cheek.

Stan and Kyle sat down next to you and wrapped you in their arms as Kenny pulled down his hood to speak.

"Yeah, you could say that the walls are soundproofed and more orphans are coming here every week or so. we pretty much can't leave since this orphanage is in a forest".

"So I can't leave then...I have to spend the rest of my life in this haunted place....". You cried even more.

You then felt 4 other arms wrap around you.

"It's okay (Name), even if we can't leave you won't share this pain alone because we will be there to protect you from the other orphans".

"But that sounds like the only way we can leave is if we die!".

"At least we will die together instead of dying alone..".💙💚🧡❤️🩸🩸💖💖

I have been way to hook up in watching ONE PIECE and checking out WELCOME HOME I haven't had any time to write anything on my blog or my hellpark blog as well. I deeply apologize for my lack of posts everyone, multitasking yourself can become stressful at some point....

[atopvisenyashill]

What if Jaehaerys died instead of Aemon?

So if Jaehaerys decided “i’ll take care of those pirates on Vermithor” and then took an arrow to the face, Aemon becomes King no problem, no muss, no fuss. There’s like. A lot of moving parts here and unknowns so I’m kinda breaking this up a bit-

Whomst Is All Here

So Jaehaerys dies in 92 AC. Aemon is King. Rhaenys is his heir presumptive, Laena HER heir presumptive. Baelon is alive for about nine more years, Alysanne for eight, though her memory is starting to go and she’s going to stop riding Silverwing within a few years. Gael is still alive. Viserys & Aemma haven’t married yet, nor have Daemon & Rhea. Laenor is two years from being born, Rhaenyra is….three I think idr exactly ajsj. I think Alysanne and Baelon are both gonna die at roughly the same time, given Aly is old & frail and Baelon had appendicitis, but imo, Aemma, Gael, Jocelyn, & Aemon are really up in the air here.

Succession Issues

What does Aemon do for succession? Well, considering Rhaenys’ argument is “you would rob my son of his birthright” I think it’s very likely that Aemon names Laenor Crown Prince/Prince of Dragonstone the moment he’s born, or soon after. Im……a bit unsure on the interim, because Laenor is born in 94, two years after Jaehaerys dies. Not a long time but long enough that people are probably going “well……what happens when you die tho.” Aemon is said to be a man who was quiet and dedicated to law and justice (whatever his definition that means, lmao), so I think he goes for the Aegon I approach after Rhaena is born but before Aegon the Uncrowned is born and goes “*cough cough* anyway look at how cute my granddaughter Laena is, you know she can ALREADY hold her head up, so strong, she’ll be a dragon rider for sure.”

It’s not that he’s actively trying to spurn Baelon & Viserys, it’s that Rhaenys can only have kids so fast, and they are nowhere near the point where she needs to feel rushed yet. She’s like 17, this is her first child, and it was perfectly healthy. With the shock of Jaehaerys dying in such a stupid way (he’s supposed to be like, The Conciliator, The Old Guy, and he goes out in an accident during a minor skirmish when he’d historically been very adept at squashing minor skirmishes), so that approach probably works until Laenor is born.

After that, Laenor is named Crown Prince and given all the education, privilege, and trappings that go with that title. If Aemon outlives Baelon but not by long, I………do think maybe the exact titles are a little messy? Because Alyssa was a queen Already when she’s Queen Regent, same for Cersei later on, but Rhaenys is never a Queen, Jocelyn is. So would Jocelyn maybe want the title Queen Regent? Or would she name Rhaenys…..Princess Regent? Out of respect for the fact that Laenor is Rhaenys’ son and she should have a say in his life? They could just name Lord Corlys Regent and Hand Of The King tbf, but we know nothing about Jocelyn’s personality, and we know Rhaenys is a proud woman, so I do wonder if there’s a lil thing going on here for a minute over who gets to Regent. That goes double if Aemon doesn’t outlive Baelon because I think Baelon would also put his hat in the ring, given it’s likely he serves as his brother’s hand. I mean, there’s not gonna be a war over who gets to be Regent, lol, but I do think there’s some power jockeying if Aemon doesn’t live too much longer, and Laenor doesn’t come of age before his grandfather dies.

Marriage Matches

With Aemon and Baelon being besties, I think it’s pretty natural to expect them to engage little Laenor and Viserys’ daughter - it just might not be Rhaenyra. the aemma marriage happens after Baelon is named Crown Prince, likely to ensure Viserys goes uncontested. With Rhaenys not yet having a daughter, I think there’s a chance Alysanne and/or Jocelyn, Rhaenys, even Aemon himself puts the kibbosh on that match until Laenor is born. THEN they’d be allowed to get married, imo, to ensure they have a Perfect Valyrian Bride option for Laenor. Laena is there, obviously, to be his sister-wife as well, BUT if Laenor doesn’t take an early interest in her (lol) I think Alysanne might push for them to have another Valyrian girl for him to get interested in. I think especially given Alysanne’s reaction to her daughters’ deaths, she might want to watch over their children and for Alysanne, that means match making, and on paper, Viserys is a nice match for Aemma. So maybe the Viserys-Aemma marriage happens, just later, so maybe Rhaenyra is born a little later, or maybe Aemma lives longer because her “purpose” isn’t to have a son, but a daughter, and she does this quickly. 

ANOTHER marriage to take into consideration outside of Laenor is Laena herself. See, if Laenor is Crown Prince, he can’t be Lord or Driftmark. Does Corlys want to wait for Laenor to have more than one son, so he can name his grandchild his heir, risking that Laenor never has more than one son? Is he happy with Laena as eventual Lady of Driftmark? (seems….doubtful given his actions re: passing over Baela AND Rhaena for Addam and Alyn) Do he and Rhaenys try for a third child, and hope it’s a son? Lot of factors here, but if he is waiting for Laenor to have a second son, Laena is heir presumptive literally until adulthood. I think Corlys may be a bit more careful with engaging her to random sea lords willy nilly, if he’s risking going like twenty years without a clear heir. Also, given that Corlys is Velaryon, I do think it’s more likely he wants Laenor married to a born Targaryen woman, and not to Laena, and same for Laena - I don’t think she’s marrying a younger sibling lol. But also - maybe Aemon feels some type of way about this? I mean, he married his aunt, a way of joining the two lines of Alyssa Velaryon, so I do feel he would Also be more inclined to have Laenor marry Rhaenyra, and give Corlys the room to marry Laena off to whomever he wants. If the reason Rhaenys only had two kids is because birth was hard on Rhaenys, I think Aemon might step in to be like “Hey I didn’t force Jocelyn, I waited around for a grandson, so you better not be forcing my daughter, you can wait for Laena’s grandson too.” Like i THINK. And I’m not sure Corlys is the sort of man who would force a pregnancy on Rhaenys either, if only for pragmatism sake (but also, it just doesn’t seem his style). Anyways, as usual, Driftmark succession is messy.

Daemon is still likely bound for the Vale, considering the reason for that match was likely “give Daemon a seat he can fuck off to so he’s not a problem in the capital” and they already have Viserys as the extra dude at king’s landing, they don’t need ANOTHER of these guys hanging around wanting a dragon. and i DO wonder if he’s MORE miserable here - we don’t get a sense of his relationships with Rhaenys, Aemon, Baelon, or Alysanne but I can’t imagine they are any more sympathetic to his hatred of his marriage than Viserys was PLUS Aemon is still alive and therefor still riding Caraxes, so I think it’s not unlikely Daemon hasn’t claimed a dragon because there’s just not one to claim.

Gael, imo, wouldn’t be married off until after Alysanne dies, since Alysanne did not seem like she was in a hurry to do it. I can’t see Rhaenys pushing the point, and I do wonder if Aemon just puts it off bc like, it wasn’t an issue he wanted to push on Alysanne, and after that it’s just instinctual to go “yeah that’s Gael she’s always in the corner talking dragons with Laena, sisters, what can ya do” until there’s like, a good political reason to marry her off. My reasoning here btw is a) he seems to be a bit hands off when it comes to Jocelyn and Rhaenys and b) i think gael being Laena, Laenor, & Rhaenyra’s weird maiden aunt to be really funny, personally.

DRAGONS

So. It’s the year 102 AC. Aemon has been king for a decade, with a clear heir for eight years, though his mother, Alysanne, died a few years ago and his beloved brother Baelon died suddenly a year ago. He is still riding Caraxes! Living dragons that are riderless include Dreamfyre, Vhagar, Vermithor, Silverwing, potentially Seasmoke. Rhaenys has Meleys, Balerion just died. Kind of a dearth of dragon riders right now.

Again, this means either Daemon had to claim a different one - but WHICH ONE, I mean, Balerion, assuming Viserys still claims him just cuz, like, why would you give a dying dragon to your crown prince, but if the man who will eventually be the father of your grandson’s wife wants him, that might be a cool thing to brag about? and I do NAWT thing Aemon is letting Daemon get near Vhagar & I can’t see Daemon and Dreamfyre liking each other lmao - or Daemon still doesn’t have a dragon. Caraxes/Daemon aside, if you’re king, how do you plan this all out? I imagine Jaehaerys OR Alysanne had some sort of discussion with Aemon about controlling who gets to claim dragons?

Anyways, Laenor, growing up crown prince, is likely given a dragon egg in the cradle. There’s not a lot of young dragons to claim, I think Aemon would feel safe hatching another one for his heir. I don’t think it’s likely Rhaenyra has Syrax though - Viserys would need to ask Aemon for permission, and neither Aemon, nor Baelon nor Alyssa nor Rhaenys had cradle eggs. That said, I think he’d allow Rhaenyra to claim a dragon for her wedding to Laenor. The question is which one because as we know, Rhaenyra is a Visenya fangirl but-

ENTER LAENA VELARYON. All we know for sure from f&b is that Laena had claimed Vhagar by 105 AC and that Laenor claimed Seasmoke when they were both young. In the show - and tbc, idk if this was a thing George wanted in there, or just something they threw in - that Laena (and Aemond) heard Vhagar’s call and followed it to claim Vhagar, who was living wild still. So the question becomes….yeah sure it’s possible that Rhaenyra would want to claim Vhagar but does Laena hear the call and chase Vhagar anyway? Does Laenor’s cradle egg perhaps not hatch, and Laenor hears Seasmoke and claims him? IDK, it’s kinda weird but interesting.

If we’re going with what EYE think is most fun here - I like the idea that Laena hears Vhagar and claims her and I think Aemon would be delighted by his oldest grandchild being gutsy enough to seek out Vhagar. I think Aemon might hope for Rhaenyra to claim Silverwing, but tbh I keep picturing Gael, Laena, and Rhaenyra going dragon hunting after not totally jiving with Dreamfyre, and Laena nags Vhaegar and Gael nabs Silverwing mostly by accident, so Rhaenyra claims Vermithor. But that’s just like, me loving my girls aksjd. Rhaenyra could go for Dreamfyre tbh, and maybe even Syrax hatches because Aemon gives Rhaenyra permission to choose an egg. Idk. There’s a lot of ways to handle this, and I would think Aemon is very aware of how many dragons he’s letting get claimed & hatched, more so than Viserys was, because Aemon was trained to rule for far longer, and by a father who wasn’t already aging and forgetting shit.

But what is Daemon doing……..I kinda want HIM to claim Seasmoke, like, just angry and following the call of some wild dragon that’s been traveling up and down the coast of Westeros, and claiming a dragon historically claimed by two (2) gay men. Lol, lmao. And similar with Laenor/Laena in canon, Aemon can’t like, say no once Daemon has claimed him - he just needs to keep an eye on the wild dragons and people getting too near them. Which is also why I lean towards “the girls go dragon hunting with Rhaenys” because Aemon wants the dragons claimed if they don’t want to nest in the dragon pit.

WEIRD DYNAMICS

Laenor, growing up crown prince, may feel much more confident in himself, more sure of his role at court. Rhaenyra still grows up at court, but potentially with the influence of her mother, Aemma, and her cousin and future good mother Rhaenys as mentors, AND Gael - even discounting my theory there, Alysanne hasn’t been traveling back and forth between Dragonstone and the capital so Gael is slightly more active and at court. Personally, I like the idea of her and Laena both sneaking off one night, tired of waiting for Laena’s marriage where she can claim a dragon, and just claiming Vhagar and Silverwing for funsies.

I do think on the whole, the Laenor and Rhaenyra probably have both a better dynamic, and a healthier outlook on life because there’s not such a hubbub about the succession, their private lives, or their own status. It’s also possible that Daemon & Rhaenyra have been so cut off from each other for so long, Rhaenyra never develops a real attachment to him, and with some better mentors around her and like, someone who actually cares about her well-being around, Rhaenyra has a more socially acceptable outlet for her brothel escapades lmao. On the other hand, of course, it’s possible that being so secure in her position for so long makes Rhaenyra feel she can get away with being a little wild, and Aemon/Rhaenys have her and Laenor married quickly and packed off to Dragonstone to go grow up.

I do think the court is probably like, more or less pretty chill until Rhaenyra & Laenor & Laena get old enough to start like, fucking around. You would think with some stability theyd all be slightly more serious the way Rhaenys is, but like, you can’t be truly sure lol. And that’s not even factoring in Daemon feeling abandoned in the Vale.

[wellbelesbian]

carry on pornbots, what we know:

okay, so i’m sure many of you have noticed the carry on pornbot phenomenon that’s started happening, and i’m obsessed, so here is what i’ve put together so far. big thanks to the folks in the carry on server who found all the bots (at least, i think that’s all of them) and decoded some stuff!

if you’d rather see this all unfold for yourself, don’t click read more. but if you want to catch up or just keep your head straight, here’s everything i know:

so, the bots we know of so far, in no particular order. are:

Gareth @bucklemeup342

Daphne @strawberry-spreader-342

Natasha @headmistress-pitch-342

Smith Smith-Richards @the-real-chosen-one-422

The Minotaur @greekfurry342

Lamb @i-assure-you-im-real-223

Braden @youre-an-apocryphal-concept-223

Mitali @head-milf-in-charge-342

Jeff the were-badger @stay-out-of-the-quiet-zone-223

Ginger @level-me-up-223

Lady Ruth @i-eat-the-cake-422

Ebb @other-girls-definitely-count-342

also worth noting @real-cryptid-friend-shep-239, but we will get back to him.

we still don’t know what the numbers in these names mean.

most of the links in the urls lead to the ao3 page for their respective character or a ship they are involved in (for example Braden and Lamb both take you to their ship tag, which is woefully empty). however Jeff’s takes you to his ao3, the imdb page for I Was A Teenage Wereskunk and the wikipedia page for Carhenge.

so, the bots started appearing a few days ago, i think i got my first follow from one on boxing day, or maybe the day after. i didn’t pick up on the first few and blocked them. like many people, they came to my attention when Rainbow posted about them.

since then, Lamb, Braden and Mitali have been active.

first, Braden and Lamb had this exchange:

then Mitali responded to this ask from @thewholelemon

i messaged Ebb asking her to open her asks, and a few hours later when i checked again, all the asks that had previously been closed, such as Ebb and Daphne, had them opened. I’ve sent an ask to Ebb but she hasn’t responded yet.

then Braden reblogged this aftg art

i presume this was an accident and whoever is behind this meant to post it to their main account. or maybe it was a hint? Braden later added:

now seems like a good time to mention that Braden is double verified, which means not only time and effort but money has gone into this. i truly applaud whoever is behind it!

Braden also responded to another ask. this one is anonymous so it could have been sent by anyone.

finally, Gareth just posted this

and then there’s Shepard…

so, this account that resembled the others and was impersonating Shepard was found. in his bio is the link to his ao3 page and a rickroll.

but it isn’t like the others. it was created 3 months ago, it hasn’t followed anyone, and it posted some puzzles.

the first was this

which @raenestee figured out was hexadecimal code and spells out ‘Las Vegas’.

then came

which @thewholelemon worked out was page, line and word numbers in Wayward Son. that spells out “This is not Shepard”

then finally there was this wordsearch

@onepintobean found the word ‘contact’, then @yellobb solved the rest

and that’s all Shepard has given us. it’s funny, but personally, i don’t think it’s the same person/people behind this account as it is behind all the others.

but that’s it for now! i’ve reached the limit for photos i can add and that’s about all the information i can think of. i might add to this, we’ll see how complicated it gets. but either way it’s a lot of fun, especially to keep track of in real time. massive kudos to whoever is running all this!

[thetruescholar]

Hi admin!!

I want to write a fic based if the Sumeru blogs and includes the OC's

So as the owner of Natalia I wanted to get your permission before including her! It would mainly be your interactions with wanderer, Nilou and Étoiles

Hope you're having a good day/night! ❤️

Of course! Here let me get you her voice lines my rant about her, and let me know if you have any questions :3

Lore Rant:

She specializes in prosthetics and battlefield medicine. Her name is Natalia and her segment designation is Xi. 

Im still working out her goals. My current ideas are that she wants to study teyvat through the lense of the limits of humanity. I need to fully figure out what exactly Natalia is studying in teyvat that involves basically turning people into cyborgs. Sure, being influenced by dottore would have her want to make people as strong as gods, but does she want to twist people like balloon animals into all sorts of horrifying shapes using prosthetics and cybernetic technology to see what can be unlocked? Is that the limits of humanity she’s after? Would there be something in irminsul her prosthetics technology could affect? Are cyborgs unable to reenter the leylines if they’ve forsaken their humanity? What constitutes as humanity? Is she putting souls in prosthetics to enhance the abilities of Fatui soldiers? I have so many questions and ideas ha ha

She also wants to leave the laboratory to be able to do this but as she makes prosthetic organs for dottore, she has to be on standby. She also wants to be seen as a good scientist by dottore, she def has those gifted kid vibes, so that she’ll be granted more privileges like being able to leave the lab. But she gets the authority to conduct her experiments by being in dottore’s back pocket. She also worries about not making progress to her goals of studying teyvat fast enough, and worries that if she falls behind on scientific progress dottore will get rid of her for being useless. Anyway yeah she has a lot of internal conflict. Potential for a character arc of her regaining everything she needs for her experiments but without the help of the Fatui if she decides to run away, but who’d want to run away from the Fatui am I right?  

she thinks discussing emotions is showing weakness and thinks therapy is a scam. She prioritizes her work in gathering knowledge through science as more important than anything else in her life. She also tries to make logical decisions about 95% of the time but there are moments when she’ll act impulsively in terms of personality she is rather obsessed with her work, but she’s also quite petty and a little haughty about being a “true scholar”. She has reverence for science, and scoffs at others who don’t. She also has a mental hierarchy, and that determines if she’ll accept or reject criticism from someone. 

Her voice sounds like a mix between cold and calculating and a little, I don’t know how to describe this, sultry? Something like Kafka from HSR. She is a certified yapper, she may be quiet and focused on her work but get her talking about her studies and she will not shut up. She’s 37 years old and 6’ tall but wears 3” heels. I’m slowly filling out a large questionnaire of character creation questions for her.

If she was playable she’d be an aggressive claymore dendro healer that heals based on edmg. The amount of healing done would equal 110% of the edmg. I’m still figuring out what her skills would do, obviously she’d need an infusion thing to make the healing work. And she’d heal when dendro edmg is done even by other teammates who are infused by her dendro.

Oh and she obviously needs a boss fight because ofc so I’m not sure about the monologue or phase one but phase two would have her in a crow themed battle suit where her extra arms would be strapped into crow themed wings. And how she’d get into this mech suit would be that she would stumble backwards into it and have it activate on impact, or something else I haven’t decided. Her boss theme would have kind of a mechanical vibe like uh coordinate shift by ferry, but obviously would have the Latin chanting and fatui letimotif.

oki now time for fun trivia!

her favorite color is dark purple, but she can’t don herself in it like she should bc she’s a dottore segment and I doubt those are given much individuality so she steals the dark purple coats from Dottore’s funder Pantalone and tailors them to fit herself.

her favorite foods are warm soup and halva

she absolutely hates her fellow segment webttore. Hates his guts. It’s like she’s GLaDOS and he’s Wheatley. The reason why she hates him is that he’s very chaotic and she tries to understand why but he knows she’s trying to understand him so he does things that mess up her data points and she just gets so mad about it that she tries to maim him quite often.

Her birthday is January 5th

she’s a lesbian and her type she’s attracted to is robotic or cybernetic ladies who also do science. But she’s so bad at expressing her feelings.

she has no issue with gossiping

she likes shiny objects like any good crow does please put one of those shiny “you did good” stickers on her lab reports she needs it

Voicelines(still a wip):

Hello

I am Natalia, segment of Il Dottore, second of the Fatui Harbingers. A prostheticist, a battlefield medic, and a true scholar. It’s an honor to travel with you and study how you operate.

Chat: Hypothesis

 Forging bone into the metal of prosthetics could strengthen them

Chat: Medicine

 Come here, let me fix that sprained ankle of yours. I’ve treated many sprained ankles in my career. This should take a minute, tell me what you’ve done in battle?

Chat: Shiny Object

 Oh, the light glitters off of that, give it to me.

When Thunder Strikes

Lightning is an underutilized power source, if only I could get my many hands on someone with an electro vision willing to let me experiment on them.

When It Snows

Keep your boots and gloves on, lest your toes and fingers join my collection.

When the Sun Is Out

AH! I have to get inside, my skin is too pale!

When the Wind Is Blowing

I should find the time to sew weights into the bottom of my skirt.

Good Morning

I watched you sleep, I can recommend a segment to fix your snoring issue. What experiments are on the agenda for today?

Good Afternoon

The afternoon is the perfect time for study and research. The day has been set in motion, almost everyone is focused on their work, almost.

Good Evening

It is time to clean up the testing materials and write up the reports.

Good Night

Good rest is required for a functioning brain. You can’t sleep? My tranquilizers will help.

About Natalia: Education

The Akademiya is not the only way to gain medical expertise. They’re hardly worth the cost as well, their rules are oppressive to true research. There should be no boundaries to what can be studied, how else will scientific progress be made?

About Natalia: Extra Arms

 Friendship Lv. 4

 These arms were a gift from Il Dottore himself. I am surprised he has the heart for gifts, but I suppose I am just so good a scholar that I am worthy of his gifts. They are useful too, the titanium aluminum alloy they are made of makes them lightweight but durable. I can work twice as fast as the other segments with them.

About Us: 

(Unknown)

About Us: Test Subject

 Friendship Lv. 6

Your ability to wield the elements without a vision or delusion is fascinating. I implore you to volunteer for my research, I could make a praise-worthy breakthrough by studying you.

About Natlan:

War is a place where someone like me is very needed, so when I noticed the things happening in Natlan..I requested to go and was assigned to help Capitano in his fight. From what I've seen, it's quite lively and peaceful for the nation of war. I've been taught not to take things at face value, so there must be someone there good at masking things. While I have some free time, I will dethrone the puppetmaster behind this appearance.

About Sheznayah:

About the Vision

 Friendship Lv. 4

Visions are marks of those claimed by Celestia, and serve little use to me. Yet I still wonder what I could have done to receive one? Has the God of Wisdom herself looked upon my research with favor? How hypocritical of her, to allow Il Dottore to be cast out, but to grant me a Dendro vision. Well, I’ll take my praise when I can.

Something to Share

I keep the frostbitten extremities of careless soldiers preserved in jars. They serve no use other than decoration, but I enjoy teasing the younger segments by showing them the jars.

Interesting Things: Prosthetics

Divine knowledge is easy to integrate into prosthetic limbs. The benefits outweigh using delusions, if you wish to risk the chance of losing your mind. I consider that more safe than the guarantee of growing old and sick at an accelerated rate. 

Interesting Things: Irminsul

 Friendship Lv. 4

The roots of Irminsul run long and deep, and the branches shed leaves of knowledge unable to be comprehended rationally. To distill knowledge into an understandable form to implant in prosthetics is a tricky process. First it must be harvested from the trunk or a thick enough branch, and left to drip like maple syrup. Then it must be run through a machine to pick out the impurities of forbidden knowledge. This step must be repeated until a substance resembling primordial water remains. Finally, it is bottled into cartridges and put into prosthetics. (This is what I can imagine based off of theories but if anyone has any better ideas please share)

About Webttore

 Friendship Lv. 4

He is a disgrace. I don’t understand why he acts the way he does, no matter how much I and the other segments study and analyze his every movement. I’m convinced he is on to us, and outsmarting us. Coming from the mind of the same man as I am from, he has equal competition in intelligence. He thinks through his stupid decisions, as if he is choosing to be a moron. If I was allowed to kill him, I would take the opportunity and use his corpse for my research. He’s more useful to me as a corpse than an annoyance.

About Omega

 Friendship Lv. 4

He and I get along well, out of all the segments he is one of the few I can stand. He too wishes for his freedom, despite his mission privileges.

About Collei: 

Despite the various experiments that have been done on Collei, I promise you that they were all done with the intent to HELP her lead a life more comfortably and develop a cure for eleazar while studying its properties. However I leave the blame of her trauma on Webttore’s relaxed management style. Had I been conducting the experiment, everything would’ve been handled more efficiently and strategically than the haphazard mess Webttore ran.

About the Tsaritsa

 Friendship Lv. 4

Our Majesty The Tsaritsa is a noble woman. To go against the gods who have given her her power in exchange for her loyalty is admirable. She is an inspiration to all, I only wish I had the bravery to leave for my studies as she has had to disobey The Heavenly Principles.

About The Jester

 Friendship Lv. 4

He is a very solitary man, I hardly see him outside of official business. 

About The Captain

 Friendship Lv. 4

He is powerful already, I’ve seen him in action, but imagine how powerful he could be with augmentations I make for him. (Need help with figuring out what else to say about him)

About The Doctor

 Friendship Lv. 4

My creator, my father, I’m honored to share his title. His curiosity knows no bounds. I know he is hated, he hates himself too, but he is a perfect scientist. I can almost forgive his busyness. I will become as good of a scientist as him, as I am his best clone. I’m a true scholar thanks to him. (Need help with figuring out what else to say about him. Natalia would know a LOT about him.)

About Damselette

 Friendship Lv. 4

She will hold an important role in the completion of Her Majesty’s plan. Her heritage as a blessed race of the Pyro Archon gives her command over the dragons. Draconic power will need to be studied before being properly used, but lucky for me I am chosen to be her confidant. I can gain whatever information I need about dragons or anything I wish from her.

About Arlecchino

 Friendship Lv. 4

Ah, the Knave. She has never liked me, and I only seek her help when necessary. She is less grateful for research than the previous Knave. As far as I am concerned, the only thing worth studying about her is the properties and uses of her blood.

About The Rooster

 Friendship Lv. 4

The Rooster finds my position distasteful, and I find his persistence in meddling with my test subject supply annoying. He has no respect for the noble pursuit of scientific progress, so I have little desire to obey him. 

About The Balladeer

Friendship Lv. 4

He was a pleasure to study. Khanrian technology adapted with more modern methods is the basis of my prosthetics design. His temperament made him unstable but easy to manipulate into agreeing to experiments. He had a one track mind, focused only on claiming his place as an archon to make up for how disgusted he was at humanity. A shame he retired, I could’ve made more research out of him.

About Marionette

 Friendship Lv. 4

She is an exceptional test subject. Her robotic body is a wonderful basis to model prosthetics off of, and her science based mentality makes her a good lab partner. I find it fascinating how it holds the human soul of Alain Guillotine, I have based many of my soul powered prosthetics off of that. It brightens my day when I am sent to deliver research notes and materials to her lab.

About Regrator

 Friendship Lv. 4

Pantalone is an intelligent individual, yet he forgets he taught me all his tricks. How foolish of him. I don’t deny he is skilled at manipulating the flow of money like a puppeteer, a scholar of economics. I’ve learned much from him, enough to always secure funding for my experiments. As an added bonus, his purple coats are quite comfortable once I tailor them to fit myself.

About The Fair Lady

 Friendship Lv. 4

She visited often, and would observe me as I work. I thank her for imparting her knowledge to me, I trust her as she has graduated from the Akademiya. I consider her a true scholar. What I find fascinating is the fire she wields and the flames in The Knave’s blood are made of a similar chemical composition. It implies the mutation of the Crimson Moon is able to be artificially made in humans. May she and her lover be reunited in death, and be reborn in the new world together.

About Childe

 Friendship Lv. 4

He is as stupid as Webttore, unconsciously. I cannot blame him for being that impulsive with his body, many times I have had to patch him up after his battles. His politeness to me is appreciated, but I don’t patch him up out of the kindness of my heart.

About Aym: The God of War really was under our noses the entire time, I guess that praying in a time of need really does work in some cases. I'm not sure what will happen from here on out..but it seems like something has changed in the air up above... I'm going to head back to Snezhnaya soon to record my findings from this mission. I hope Il Dottore finds this useful.

More About Natalia: I

You thirst for knowledge as I do? Perhaps we will get along better than I thought. 

More About Natalia: II

 Friendship Lv. 3

My two responsibilities go hand in hand. My work as a prostheticist is what I research for The Doctor, and my job as a battlefield medic allows me to gather data on live subjects in the field. Efficient, isn’t it? But repetitive, I patch up the same ungrateful imbeciles each time with nothing new to study. 

More About Natalia: III

 Friendship Lv. 4

Segments have many choices for names. Some choose to keep their original designations, others such as I are given new names by many means. My designation and original name is Xi, as tattooed on the back of my neck. But you have only heard me named “Natalia”. I’ll impart this knowledge to quell your curiosity, The Regrator was the one to rename me. It’s predictable what The Doctor will let slide to get his funds. He only stood to gain from allowing Pantalone to call me “Natalia”.

More About Natalia: IV

 Friendship Lv. 5

I will be honest with you. I am conflicted inside. I yearn for the affection and praise from The Doctor, as any child would from their father, but I know I cannot receive that without gathering knowledge for him. It is my purpose in life, and I am failing. The answer is so simple, but he won’t allow me to reach it. With the freedom to explore Teyvat, I can gather more knowledge in my field and be useful enough for his praise once again. But of course, I am too useful to his life, I have to be his right hand to keep replacing his organs. It’s pathetic to be forced into repetitive work but punished for being unable to gather more knowledge. An example of an Oroboros. An Ouroboros that ends with an outside hand strangling the snake, what use does a snake encircling itself have to anyone?

More About Natalia: V

 Friendship Lv. 6

You ask why I don’t quit the Fatui and leave the lab on my own accord? Well, I’m better off in the lab with the Fatui than outside it. Not by much, there are many downsides and I am stagnating in progress. But to be unable to gain funding and continue my research is what I risk if I leave. If I would be allowed to leave at all, in the attempt I could be discontinued for knowing too much. I hope that one day a miracle will happen, I will make a breakthrough, I won’t be failing in my duty anymore, and I’ll earn my right to leave.

Natalia’s Hobbies

(Fighting webby or medical malpractice or something idk)

Natalia’s Troubles

The persistent pestering of the other segments is impeding my work.

Favorite Food

A simple meal of warm soup and halva is all I need to get through the day. Soup is easy to prepare and functions as both a food and a drink. Halva's sturdy, geometric nature makes it portable and efficient to eat while working.

Least Favorite Food

Dishes with too many steps are scientific procedures, not food. My specialty is prosthetics, I don’t have the time to conduct a biological experiment outside of my field. 

Receiving a Gift: I

I am impressed, you disproved my hypothesis on your cooking skills. 

Receiving a Gift: II

Tastewise expected results, no breakthroughs.

Receiving a Gift: III

This is bad, I wouldn’t even give it to Webttore.

Birthday

I have been informed that it’s your birthday. Happy Birthday, come visit the laboratory. I’ve kept Webttore from eating your cake, mind your step so you don’t slip over his body. I’ve prepared a gift for you as well, these wrist braces should strengthen your grip on your sword and on the scruff of the neck of that floating creature.

Feelings About Ascension: Intro

 Ascension Phase 1

 I can now aid in healing you at a faster rate.

Feelings About Ascension: Building Up

 Ascension Phase 2

 (Unknown)

Feelings About Ascension: Climax

 (Unknown)

Feelings About Ascension: Conclusion

 Ascension Phase 6

Thanks to you, I’ve been able to upgrade myself. Perhaps Il Dottore will smile upon me once more. 

——————

hope that helps! My main is @reiayanamiisbestgirl if you want to direct any questions there

[muqingswife]

how i think modern!aemond looks like

note: english is not my first language, im from brasil i speak pt br português brasileiro and im using the translator sometimes, sorry for my mistakes

lets goooo 😋

first off all, his family would remain a monarchy, maybe like danish royalty (i read somewhere that the Danish royals have more political power than the British royals or something like that, and i honestly cant think the Targaryens giving up any power that they could have) and here we DONT have incest (at least not the ones that would be shocking in our current society)!!!! read my thoughts below:

viserys didnt die yet and still being the king

daemon is viserys cousin so she can marry daemon with "no problem" and shes the heir of the iron throne

the line of succession to the throne would be: rhaenyra, jacaerys, lucerys, joffrey, aegon and viserys (idk whos the eldest), aegon, helaena, aemond and finally daeron

he knows he wont be king unless some catastrophe happens and kills his whole family but still a little bit jealous

aemond takes advantage of being the 9th in the line of succession, since he has very "few" spotlight on him, so he can live a normal life like all of us mere mortals

uses his prince title when needs something (that includes the girls 🤭)

think im done about the political part of his family so lets move on to physical appearance and hc about him and his relationship with family

aemond doesnt have long hair like in hotd, his hair is more like tom or billy (personally billy is my favourite)

ewan smile is so pretty i cant 😭

def wear an eye patch bc dont have one eye, obviously he dont lost his eye on a fight about claiming a dragon, but maybe he fell on a shard of glass or lucerys pushed him into a sharp rock which caused the scar and pierce his eye (my poor boy 😓)

ATHLETIC BOY!!!!! im talking about both body and style, ewan practically only wears adidas and aemond being a mama's boy, coming from two rich families buys everything that is adidas clothing

and you guys see ewan in world on fire and his new photoshoot like bro his muscles are heavenly 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 (só uma chance ewan, pfv 😭

aemond smokes A LOT, i mean aegon get drunk every week (if he doesnt do it every day 🤷🏻) and helaena has her bugs collection, so why he cant do something he likes and help him to destress?

for a 100% sure hes alicents favorite boy and daerons favorite brother

daeron probably just thinks his brother is the best in the world, the bravest, the most beautiful and everything a child can think of their big brother (he also thinks the scar on aemonds eye is really cool and when he was a child, like 4 years, he took one of his eye patches and put it to look like aemond

and about alicent, just look at their hair in hotd, those are the most hydrated hair of the entire series!!! ok joke, aemond was a quiet child, never gave her much trouble and was the first child she could call "her own child"

aegon would be to the realm if something happened to rhaenyra before she sire heirs and we all know how his temper is ☠️

helaena in my hc is autistic, some autistic people dont like other people touching them and helaena would be one these

as a child, she would reject alicents hugs and affections, in addition to being very difficult to communicate with her

contrary to all that, aemond was a perfect child, he would be glued to alicent 24/7, wanting her hugs, kisses and affection, his mothers affection.

she was his confidant when he was suffering and crying, she helped him with the school activities that he had difficulty, she was the one who stayed by his side in the hospital when he lost his eye

and aemond returned all the love his mother gave to him taking care of her and being the best at everything he did, just to make her proud of him

its aemond whos sitting next to alicent when she cries worried about being attracted to women and wipe her tears, she feels guilty for doing something that is said to be "wrong" in her religion (alicent para meninas, rhaenyra is her girlfriend canon

now leaving the sad mood aside lets go to more aemond's hc + dating hc

vhagar is aemonds lizard and she has a HUGE terrarium in his room with everything and more a lizard needs.

he is studying politics, international relations, history or philosophy in college

probably his girlfriend (me and you obvious) would be on one of these classes too or something like that

the BEST boyfriend ever, he is super respectful and treats his girlfriend like the princess she will be in the future when they get married

romantic dates would be to fancy places that nobles frequent, like operas and ballet but aemond would also take you to a museum, library, dinner at a super expensive restaurant you like and of course, skiing in the swiss alps

if you like a sport or did one, he would be super supportive and take you to every competition you wanted to see/gonna compete in

aemond would spoil you no matter if you have money or not

have you seen a prada bag online? it will be in your hands the next morning

did you make a comment of a swarovski necklace you saw at the mall? he bought the necklace and one more set of jewelry

are you undecided whether to buy a Chanel or Dior perfume? no problem, the two perfumes will be on your table when you get home

aemond would be very insecure about his scar and eye, and really wouldnt think himself worthy of you

but you are here with him to tell him how important he is to you, how handsome he is and how much you love him, when he heard you say that, all his insecurities would go away

and he absolutely LOVES that you touch his hair, massage, wash his hair and make mini braids on it

anything you do he loves 💗

[rdiowx]

FRANKENSTEIN FRANK— 2

Frankensteins monster!Frank x Mad scientist!Reader

A story in which the way brothers come over and Gerard meets frank

Funny story I completely forgot the Great Depression was happening during this time and i only realized it while watching ‘into the spider-verse’

Teaching Frank how to do or say things was all you did now—not that you were doing much of anything before— but he was becoming more stable as a person. You would say you did a pretty great job well, you would say your are doing a pretty great job. He can walk in a kind of straight line now and he helps around the house, his body isnt completely functional though, he doesnt have to eat or anything but for some reason his hair grows. His hair is still the same, bleached sides and his faux hawk but the sides have grown out a bit. He gets along with Mikey which is great and tonight mikey’s bringing over his older brother Gerard. You both haven’t told him about Frank, the only people that know about Frank is yourselves and well, Frank.

Franks memory is kind of bad but yours would be too if you were put together by two weirdos in one of their basements. You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock on your door, you went to answer it forgetting about your book in the process. Frank looked toward you in confusion before getting up to follow you. Opening the door you were met with the one and only way brothers, frank smiled at the sight of Mikey only for it to drop when he saw a new person beside him. “Hey guys, you can come in.” You welcomed them in only for frank to stare at you like you had two heads, you would too if someone you’d never met before was welcomed into your house. “Thanks for inviting us over, well Mikey comes over every day but I don’t.” Gerard started, before waving slightly at Frank. “Oh yea. Gerard thats Frank he’s my um roommate? Frank thats Mikeys brother Gerard.” You conversed, heading into the kitchen.

Frank gave Gerard a weird look before following you into the kitchen. “He doesn’t like new people dont take it to heart.” Mikey said, putting his hand on Gerards shoulder and leaving to the kitchen. Gerard nodded in response, taking his shoes off before following his brother. Frank was oddly quiet so you asked him what was wrong, only to get a shrug in response. “Do you not like Gerard?” You questioned, looking up from your cutting board. “I dont know him.” He answered. You nodded in understanding before resuming your activity. You both dropped the subject as the way brothers entered the room, Mikey was the first one to start talking. “Hey Frank hows living here? Lord knows i never could.” You glared at him over your shoulder as a response. “I like it here, they’re nice..company.” Frank hesitated to make sure he got the word right.

“Uh huh im sure they are.” Mikey teased before looking over at you. “What is that supposed to mean? You dont think im good company?” You queried, putting your knife down before turning around to look at him. You and Mikey continued to bicker like you were siblings instead of him and Gerard. Speaking of Gerard, he tried to make small talk with frank. “So um, how did you meet Them and Mikey?” Gerard asked, before moving to take a drink of his water. “They made me in The lab downstairs.” Frank answered seriously. Gerards eyes widened before he spat out his drink in shock causing frank to jump and you and Mikey paused your bickering. “What? What happened?” You asked turning to faced them.

“You made this guy?!” Gerard yelled, clearly stunned. Thats right, you hadn’t talked to frank about what to say if someone asked where he came from or how he met you. “Shit.” Mikey mumbled making his way towards his brother and resting his hands on his shoulders. “Listen man, you cant tell ANYONE about this.” Mikey stated, making Gerard promise he wouldnt tell anyone about this. While this was going on you lead frank out of the kitchen to your shared bedroom. “Frank you cannot tell people you were made in a lab! Who knows what would happen if it go out to someone who wasnt Gerard! I mean i could get in serious trouble!” You rambled, pacing around the room. Frank looked towards his shoes the whole time, not having the chance to mumble out an apology.

You stopped after you saw the look in his eyes as you yelled at him. You move to sit down on the bed next to him, knees touching as you look at him. “Im sorry, I just dont know what would happen if it got out, i dont want you to be hurt.” You held out your hand on his thigh palm up for him to grab, which he did. “Its okay.” Frank squeezes your hand before moving to wipe his face only for one of his staples to get stuck on one of his stitches. You laugh at the predicament before yelling for Mikey to get your scissors and needle and thread out of the lab drawers downstairs.

Doesn’t take long for you to hear two pairs of footsteps coming towards your room while you hold Franks arm in place so he doesn’t rip anything trying to get unstuck. You thank Mikey before snipping the thread and letting frank move his arm while you restitch his face. “Doesn’t that hurt?” Gerard asks nervously. You laugh as you let frank answer his question. “I dont have any pain receptors..” Frank informs before attempting to watch you restitch below his eye. “I think thats pretty useful considering your made of staples and thread.” Gerard inspects him, looking him up and down.

“Alright im done.” You say, pressing a kiss to the new stitches before letting everyone know you were gonna finish dinner. The guys talked amongst themselves, Gerard asking questions the whole time that sometimes Mikey had to answer if frank didnt know how to say a word or two. Soon enough dinner was done and you guys were talking about random stuff that had happen recently. You like to think that Frank and Gerard were warming up to each other considering frank would actually look him in the eyes now.

“Its kind of crazy that all these years you were working on a functioning person, though it doesn’t surprise me they do call you a mad scientist.” Gerard made small talk and you had to stop frank from talking with food in his mouth. “Well you know me, i try my best to live up to my name.” You rolled your eyes before continuing to eat your food. After everyone finished eating gerard asked to see your lab which you agreed to, frank got excited cause it’s easily one of his favorite places in the house.

“So this is where crazy spends all their time?” Gerard asked, throwing you a teasing smile. “Oh yea, this is the place.” Mikey butted in, not letting you get a word in which earned a slap to the back of his head by you. Frank went to mess with stuff on your desk again, it wouldnt matter how many times you told him not to he would still do it. At least he went for a snow globe and not a sharp tool this time. “Im not even crazy that’s just a —Frank don’t drop that—that’s just a scary tale parents tell their kids to get them to go to sleep.” You and mikey were arguing again, you’d think after being friends for so long you’d be able to get along but that’s just another myth.

“Hey Mikey, we gotta go home its getting dark.” Gerard informed after a while reaching for his jacket he set on your chair. They both bid their goodbyes before making their way up the steps, putting their shoes on and leaving out the door. You followed to lock the door behind them frank trailing along, snow globe still in hand. Frank tells them goodbye and they wave. After a while of reading, finally finishing the book while frank listens to you read, you and Frank get ready for bed.

In the bathroom where you’re both brushing your teeth frank strikes up a conversation, toothpaste still in mouth. “That book was so weird by the way, felt unfinished.” Frank spoke, slightly garbled from the toothpaste. “Thats because you heard it from the last 30 pages Frank.”You smiled. He had a look of understanding before mumbling an “Oh.” And telling you that you should read him a different book instead. You told him maybe tomorrow and he nodded, walking you out of the bathroom and turning off the light. Having already gotten into pajamas you both got comfortable under the covers, Frank talking about anything and everything until his brain finally shut down for the night. It didnt take long for you to fall asleep after he did and you slipped into a dreamless slumber.