#oh here comes the hardcore life

[arospecsyourblockdudes]

Why am I the guy in the fandoms that doesn’t like the popular fanon things why is this my burden

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.

I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.

This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.

Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.

But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.

Here’s who was on the dating roster:

• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.

• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.

• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.

And finally,

• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.

So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.

Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.

She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.

“Do you want it?”

“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”

But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.

So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.

I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.

I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!

What about the table?!

“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”

Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.

There on my doorstep. The table.

It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.

“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.

“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”

“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”

“Make me an offer.”

I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.

This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.

“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.

I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”

They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.

But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.

“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.

With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.

It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.

So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.

I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!

Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”

I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.

For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.

Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.

It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”

“Did you like it?”

“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”

My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.

Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.

“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”

“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.

So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.

[akariamai]

Claws, Blades, and Botanical Love

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!OC

Word Count: 1642

“Where are we going?” Logan asked in a steely tone as Wade forcefully shoved him into the discolored and slightly wrecked stolen car. It had been a day since the small celebration of the multiverse was saved and now, Wade was forcing him into another adventure.

“Listen up, my little honey badger of doom and gloom, we’re about to inject some much-needed joy into those dead fish eyes of yours. Seriously, would it kill you to crack a smile for all the lovely readers out there? They’re lying in bed, wide awake, thinking about your mopey ass at 2 in the morning. Give ‘em a little something to dream about, will ya?” Wade finished with a boop on Logan’s nose.

“What the fuck are you yapping about?” Logan snapped, slamming his fist onto the headliner of the car.

“Chill your claws, Logan. So there I was, doing my little multiverse hopscotch, trying to find the you that’s not you but is still you—don’t think too hard about it. And guess what? Every single one of you grumpy furballs has the same weak spot. I mean, color me shocked when I find out Wolverine’s out here simping hardcore for a mutant angel, Mother Nature herself with all her leafy green goddess vibes.” Wade paused, turning the engine on, before continuing, “And oh, wouldn’t you know it? She’s your soulmate, bub. Yep, the big bad Wolverine falling head over claws for Mother Earth. Who knew you had it in ya? And for my grand finale after saving the multiverse, I asked the TVA to track down your leafy soulmate right here in this universe. I know, I’m a hero. Now, where’s my applause, Logan? Or, you know, a little thank you pegging wouldn’t hurt either. Your call!”

Logan absorbed the information in silence. He gripped the side of his seat, knuckles turning white and claws threatening to come out, as the weight of the words spoken sank in. His breath hitched — a soulmate. The concept circled around his mind, relentless and overwhelming. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but the car seemed to close in on him. A soulmate. His soulmate. The thought pounded in his skull, echoing louder with each beat of his heart.

His eyes darted from one side of the car to the other, unfocused, as his breathing quickened. Every face he’d ever known flashed through his mind— mutants, friends, enemies— all blurring together in a desperate search. He released his grip on his seat to only grip it tighter, digging deep into his memory, trying to pinpoint who it could be. Who from his world could possibly be the one.

“Oh, I can practically hear the gears grinding in your noggin, Wolfie. Relax, it’s not like you’ve missed out on a soulmate meet-and-greet. You never met them in your universe—they kicked the bucket before your paths ever crossed. Just like the Logan of this universe bit the dust before he got his chance to meet them. So, no need to lose any more sleep over it, bub.” Wade reached into the hidden compartment of the car and handed Logan to file. “Alright, feast your eyes on this bad boy—it’s got all the juicy deets about your little sweet pea right here. Buckle up, Logan, it’s time to dive into the love story of the century!”

Logan’s fingers hover over the file, trembling slightly. He shallowed hard, his throat dry as he stared holes at it. His breath came in uneven gasps. The file lay heavy in his hands, a stark contrast to his tight grip as if it might burst into flames of open with a truth he wasn’t ready to face. He became a monster after the death of his friends — his family — a vicious and heartless animal with no regard for human life. He had a fiery temper and alcoholic tendencies. He hesitated, his eyes darting to and from the file, each movement slow and deliberate, as if he were bracing himself for impact.

The file contained a possible future, a future he was not worthy for, but he was a selfish man who wanted nothing more than peace. Once the file was opened, his eyes were drawn to a picture of a gardener, Flora Winters.

Flora was the right mix of grit and grace. She had this magnetic way of commanding the camera’s attention, her presence effortlessly filling the frame with a blend of strength and elegance. There was a subtle, almost intangible quality that made her stand out.

“Hey, Earth to Perve, are you done giving her the ol’ eyeball striptease yet? You haven’t even met her and you’re already panting like a dog left out in the summer sun all day. I can only guess what’ll happen when you’re actually in the same room. Actually, I can totally imagine it— and if you don’t mind, I’d love to join in on the bedroom fun!”

~~~

Flora Winters spends the day slicing into the strawberries she’s grown in her greenhouse, experimenting with different recipes to find the one that’ll make her taste buds dance. She plans to sell them alongside the rest of her crops. Her life is mostly mundane, except for the occasional boost she gives her plants with her powers.

She senses a subtle tremor in the grass—a quiet warning from the trees that someone is near, getting closer. She feels the presence of two individuals stepping onto her porch, brushing against the ivy draped from the roof, ready to knock on her door.

Cracking the door open just enough to peek out, she narrows her eyes at the two men standing there. “What do you want?” she asks, taking in their ridiculous outfits. One is decked out in a red-and-black bodysuit that looks like a walking dildo, complete with a mask that only leaves his bug-eyed lenses visible. The other guy’s in a yellow-and-blue getup that looks straight out of a comic book, his muscles practically bulging out of the suit. They look like they’re about to audition for the weirdest superhero team ever.

Logan’s heightened senses pick up a scent that calms the raging animal inside him. It’s subtle—like the earth after rain, mixed with blooming flowers and a hint of something uniquely her. For the first time in what feels like forever, a deep sense of peace settles over him, like he’s found something he didn’t even know he was searching for. Every instinct tells him he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Wade practically bounces on his heels. “This is it, bub! Your happily-ever-after, complete with a side of rosebuds and thorns.”

Logan shoots Wade a withering glare. “Shut up!”

But Wade, being Wade, ignores him and keeps running his mouth. “So, Flora, you should know—Logan here is a real softy under all that muscle. Sure, he’s got the claws and hair of a kitty and the whole brooding loner vibe down pat, but deep down, he’s a big ol’ teddy bear. Just don’t tell him I said that. Anyway, I’ll just leave him here and pick him up after this little playdate.”

Flora’s eyes flicker between the two, her brow furrowing as she narrows her gaze. The walking dildo keeps yapping nonsense. The vines hanging from the roof pulse with energy, eager for her command to snap into action. The thought of wrapping those vines around these idiots and flinging them far from her home is very tempting. It would be so easy.

Her eyes dart to the door—a simple barrier she could slam shut if they don’t retaliate. She hears the dildo’s yapping and the other guy’s low growling. They’re not really a threat, more like oversized children.

“Enough with your childish bickering. I want names. Who the fuck are you, how do you know my name, and what do you want?”

Wade starts to speak, but Logan cuts him off, his voice low and growling. “The moron here thinks we’re soulmates.”

Wade jumps back in, grinning. “The TVA stamped it, laminated it, and probably put it in a scrapbook labeled ‘Destined Couples of the Multiverse.’ Ain’t love just precious—like a rabid wolverine with a bowtie! So, congrats, lovebirds. Now kiss, fight, or do both. I’m just hyped to see good ol’ Logan drop the whole grumpy routine and maybe—just maybe—stop looking like he’s got a permanent wedgie. Fingers crossed he cracks a smile without breaking a mirror.”

Flora crosses her arms and tunes out the rest of the nonsense. The vines behind the two men sway towards them like serpents, coiling around their bodies and lifting them off the porch. With a flick of her wrist, the vines hurl the intruders as far as possible from her farm. She hears their screams fade as she calmly shuts the door, ignoring whatever mess is happening outside.

Wade and Logan watch the farm grow smaller and smaller until it vanishes behind the trees. Logan lands flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him, silently cursing Wade for dragging him into this. Wade, not as lucky, ends up impaled on a lonely tree stump. “Motherfucker.”

Logan gasps, “That went well.”

Wade pulls himself off the stump, glaring at his ruined suit. “I knew I should’ve handled the chit-chat! This is what happens when you let amateurs do the smooth talkin’—awkward silences and cringe-level dialogue. Next time, leave the witty banter to the pros—me.” He points at himself with both thumbs before inspecting the lacerations in his suit. “Well, there goes my uniform! Ruined! You know how hard it is to play arts and crafts with my own skin-tight, butt-hugging suit? This is what my life has come to—reconstructing fashion disasters caused by homicidal landscaping and that damn Vine Vixen.”

Masterlist

[amymbona]

First time writing an ask kinda nervous….. imagine you went to the tennis academy with ArtPatrick and they never really noticed you, not really on their radar but you end up going to Stanford and befriended Tashi and they are just whipped for you idk what else to add IM SO NERVOUS

Yes yes yes that's so cute! The boys being completely smitten with reader 🥹🥹🥹 I could make a series from this cause this one's a bit short (I've no inspiration😔). Let's pretend that in this neither of the boys study at Stanford and Patrick isn't dating Tashi.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

To begin the story simply, tennis is the main focus of your life. Or at least used to be, until you hit puberty. With hormones running through your body, up and down from head to toe, and your periods happening each month, you started noticing significant changes not only in your physique but your mentality too. Suddenly, boys were all you think about.

While slowly building your teenage career and attending the academy, you kept your eyes on boys around you, subconsciously searching for a partner. And you considered yourself pretty normal. Not many thoughts about sex, at least not the hardcore version of it, just hoping for a nice monogamous relationship with a guy who'd love and support you unconditionally. Until you met Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson.

Aside from your crush on Brad Pitt as Achilles, you were never really smitten with boys before, so your poor brain froze the moment you entered the court and a mix of two muscular - for their age - moans reached your ears. There they were. The brunet one was taller, a mess of curly hair sticking to his forehead, and he was a bit more expressive too. Most of the groans were from his mouth, face grimacing as he chased the ball, limbs long. Next to him, on the court, was a guy who's blond hair was hidden under a cap, but you caught a glimpse of his big nose. This one, was a bit more muscular, eyes creased in concentration.

It's safe to say that you became obsessed with them, figuring out their schedule to be on the court exactly at the same time. It wasn't really your thing before, but you began tucking your skirts a bit higher so they could possibly catch a glimpse of your ass, and make sure to groan loud enough when you hit the ball. Every so often, your eyes would trail towards the two, eager to see if they are watching you, only to end up disappointed if you find them immersed in a deep conversation.

It shattered your poor teenage ego, especially when you decided to greet them - reminding yourself that tennis players all know one another so it won't be that awkward - only to end up with a light wave from Art in response. Honestly, you were devastated.

Now, one year into Stanford, you've managed to successfully push the two towards the most dark depths of your mind, focusing back on tennis. You are grateful to have befriended a fellow player - Tashi Duncan - who has become something close to a best friend. You hadn't really heard of her before, perhaps once or twice on the sport's channel news, but she has proven as an incredibly complex person. For her age, she is far above average, dominating every match, but her soul is delicate enough to flow in sync with yours.

The two of you are dorm mates, spend a lot of time together and have found much needed calmness in the presence of one another, a friendship one could really ask for. Doing the talk, you've learnt about Tashi's family, hobbies and friends - two of which, she has mentioned, were named Art and Patrick. Rings a bell?

And definitely rings a bell, if not even slaps you across the face, when you come back to your dorm after practice, eager for a shower and a good afternoon's rest, only to find two boys occupying your two beds. And Tashi's nowhere.

"Oh, hi," the blond guy is the first to break the awkward silence, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. "We didn't know you were coming. We, um- we're waiting here for Tashi."

You nod, eyes trailing between the two boys, each of them gazing you up and down. And suddenly, you become too aware of your attire - a really mini *mini* skirt and a light sports bra, your top stuffed somewhere in your sports bag that you've dropped by the door - and it's easy to see the boys aren't trying to hide their excitement.

"Well, she's still at practice so..." you mutter, crossing arms over your chest to somehow hide whatever the boys are looking at.

"Should we go?" Art proposes, finger pointing at the door.

"No, no, you can wait here. I'm just gonna shower so I can't really entertain you." you offer the boys a small smile and quickly fish some clothes out of the wardrobe and disappear in the bathroom.

The boys exchange a glance, mouths parted and eyes wide. Damn. It's been a long time since they've seen a girl this pretty! Your flushed cheeks and plump lips are all engraved in their minds, the sight of you in so little clothes hard to erase. God, your cleavage was so full, almost spilling out of that bra, that Patrick desperately wished the fabric would magically burst and he's ve granted with the clear view of your tits.

You reenter the dorm in a fresh set of clothes, combed hair flowing down your back and the boys' eyes are on you again, small, playful smirks on their faces. You try to ignore the butterflies in your tummy and the way your voice threatens to quiver as you approach your own bed, currently occupied by Patrick.

"Do you mind?"

"No, no, enough space for both of us," he replies nonchalantly, patting the space next to him, but that smug smile on his face is hard to miss.

Your eyes roll, arms crossing. He knows damn well that's not what you meant. "Just move."

Patrick grins, raising his arms in mock defense and reluctantly pushes up from his spot only when Art commands him with a soft c'mon Pat, allowing you to plop down.

For a long while, now both settled on Tashi's bed, the boys study you, taking notice of the way your sweater clings to your skin, the way your bare feet tap against the floor nervously and how you're trying to look all calm and indifferent, picking up a random book from the nightstand to demonstrate so. But Patrick breaks the silence.

"So, who're you?"

The question surprises you and perhaps hurts a bit, as you realise the boys have completely forgotten your face, despite seeing it for years in the academy. Perhaps you hoped they would remember you.

"Tashi's roommate... Y/N." you add when they raise a brow.

"Y/N." the name rolls off of Art's tongue sweetly as he repeats it. He likes how it sounds, it's simple but very flirting, as if your face was meant to hold such a name.

Patrick, meanwhile, imagines himself screaming that name. Not only that, his mind is filled with various scenarios where you are the main character.

The boys introduce themselves, not that it's needed for you, and for a moment, you're almost tempted to remind them that you actually know each other. "Yeah, I know you."

"You do?" Patrick asks, raising a brow, almost too excited.

Fuck. But you can't just tell them how much of a crush you had on both of the boys back in the academy, how many days and nights you spent thinking about them, imagining that'd be thinking about you too, imagining all the possible moments you three could have spent together.

"Um, yeah, from the... From Tashi." you stumble over your words. "She's mentioned you before a couple of times."

The boys nod, looking you all over, examining every single of your tiny mannerisms that are on display, the way you nervously scratch the back of your neck and chew onto your lower lip. Fuck. You're so cute in their eyes, they could watch you forever.

A slightly awkward silence settles over the room, and the more intense their gazes become, the more nervous you are. God damn, where the hell is Tashi when you need her the most? If you'll be forced to stay alone with Art and Patrick for one more minute, you're probably gonna go crazy and say something incredibly stupid or just jump in one of their laps and begin kissing them.

Like a miracle, a much needed knight in shining armor, Tashi shows up. She greets her friends, introduces you three once again before finally taking the boys out. Like they're on a leash, the boys follow her without a single protest, but before they leave the dorm, two sly smirks are shot in your direction. What you don't hear, after the door closes, is the boys smothering Tashi in questions about you.

[k1ngpin42]

For something a little different today, Abby is interrogating a trespasser (you) and everyone is surprised to see Abby go easy on someone for the first time ever.

If u guys like this I can write a part 2 reunite scene w smut but for now just let me know.

Victims and criminals are all imprisoned in cells throughout the apartments. Waking through, some would be shaking, some bleeding, some cursing and some saying nothing at all. When Abby is in charge of the interrogations, everyone knows about it. The wails can be heard from anywhere in the WLF base and whenever Abby even walks through to speak with Issac, they flinch and they beg for her mercy. 

You are a skilled survivalist. One who creates traps, bombs and your own weapons. One as comfortable in shadow as you were in the skin on your own body. But above that you were loyal. Always helped those who needed helping for nothing in return and today you were paying the price. 

You had been using WLF camps and lookouts for supplies for some time now. You preferred the seraphite weapons but bullets and “old world” materials were proving more valuable of late. Plus, the WLF soldiers were more careless than those sadistic cultists, so you decided it would be a safer bet.

Your best friend Janine was your ride or die on all assignments and this was the only time the two of you had gotten into a hairy situation you weren’t so easily walking away from. She was bit, long story short, only on her arm thankfully, which you had to ampetate. She was losing a lot of blood, and the WLF hospital was their only shot. Unfortunately, with what looked like hundreds of WLFS in such a close space, you were caught, supplies in hand, and were now being questioned by the bulkiest woman you had ever seen. 

“Just caught this one in ICU, she was rushing out with antibiotics, stitches, alcohol and some pretty hardcore pain drugs.” Jordan said, tossing you to her. She looks you slowly up and down, her expression unchanged. 

“She a scar?” She asks. Jordan and the others looked puzzled, saying nothing. She rolls her eyes. 

“You a scar?” She asks you directly now.

“I don’t know what that is…” You admit, voice shaky. Jordan is still holding his gun to you.

“This is scar and WLF territory. You would have seen them.” Abby explains impatiently. “You know, horses, bows, hung bodies, etc…”

“Oh.” You reply in understanding. “Seraphites. No, I’m definitely not.”

She exchanges looks with the others before continuing. 

“Why were you stealing our shit?” Abby pries, looking briefly at the med kit in your hand. 

“It’s suicide coming in here, you’ve seen the numbers.” Her voice is pretty and non-chalant. You are planning on ways to get out of this as they question you, but you have only had to endure confrontation a few times. You shrug. 

“I was rushing. That’s why I was careless enough to let you catch me.”

“Because you were rushing?” She taunts. “Going through our bases is suicide, we caught you because you were stupid.”

“On the contrary, I’ve been through 6 locations your people were stationed a-“ You stop yourself, realising just how quickly your smart mouth had landed you closer to having your friends life as well as your own, ended.

“It was because I was rushing.” You decide to conclude. Abby nods, clearly finding some part of you interesting enough to not beat. 

“Why were you rushing. Who was this shit for? There more of you?” You take a deep breath in an attempt to explain, but even that small moment was interrupted.

“Well?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just a little hard to answer with your friends gun in my face.”

“Shut up.” Jordan said, moving the gun closer. Abbys eyes darken with anger at this. 

“Jordan drop it.”

“What?! She just said she’s been stealing from us and-“

“I said drop it, or would you like me to point it at you next?” Jordan lets out a sigh of defeat and takes a large step back. You flash a grateful look in Abbys direction.

“It’s for my friend. Best friend. Arm was amputated on a sweep job.” 

“Sweeping our fucking houses were you?”

“No. No not this time I swear it. We were just getting supplies from some abandoned apartments.”

“Shit.” Abby says, silence lingering long enough to have all of Abbys friends on edge. 

“Where is she?”

“Why?” You shoot back, defensively. She rolls her eyes.

“So we can give her the shit. She can be on her way and then we’re gonna take you into confinement for stealing.” 

“Why should I trust you? You really think I’m gonna give you my friends location?”

“If you haven’t noticed, you aren’t yet screaming, which you will quickly learn is how I leave most people I meet, so if I wanted you dead you’d be dead. Second of all, my group can just do a whole sweep right now and have the building on lockdown, but by the time we’ve found her, I fear her chances of survival will be very. much. decreased. What’s your name?” Your eyes widen and you’re taken aback by her words. You hesitate, avoiding making eye contact.

“Why do you want to know my name?”

“Wanna know who the fuck I’m talking to. Stand up, gonna take your weapons too.”

You comply, your hands shakily going up in surrender. She puts her large hands over your body, making you shudder. She pats you down thoroughly and despite everything, your skin feels like its burning at the contact. She’s beautiful, intimidating as hell and quite literally has you at her mercy, the whole thing is terrifying and slightly arousing. Your cheeks are still burning when she finally steps away, your weapons in hand. 

“Pretty name.” She replies solemly. You blush harder.

“Please don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything. You can torture me the rest of my days if you want. You can feed me to clickers or your dogs but please, let me heal her.” Abby tries to fight the things she is feeling. Perplexed is the strongest emotion, angry that you stole is another, but the incredibly constant and insistent urge to protect you with her life is even stronger still.

Abby moves in, lowering herself to your level, speaking more quietly now, as if the fact that she could do anything other than inflict harm was a secret that would provoke chaos for anyone who hears it. 

“No one will hurt you, or your friend. At least not till she’s safe. You may be an idiot but…well I can respect doing stupid shit for a friend. Get up, you’re gonna tell me where she is.”

“Abby this is crazy!” Jordan argues. “Isaac will never approve-“

“Then go cry to him about it. She just needs some antibiotics, Mel is a great doctor, we’ll be back before it can even be considered a delay.”

Everyone is shocked by Abby and no one more than you. The way she stood up for you, the way she can speak so boldly with a voice so sweet had you soaking subconsciously.

“You two can follow, don’t want to keep the whole group for this.” Abby tells two of her men. They nod and follow.

“How many of you are there?” Abby asks, her voice softer now as you walked. You smiled ever so slightly. 

“13. We’re more of a family than a group. We’re harmless though, until we need to be otherwise.”

“And you all sneak around like this?”

“No. The children don’t but those who are strong take rotations for supplies and clearing infected from the area.” “That’s….” Abby lets out a deep sigh, dismissing her previously cold exterior. “Actually pretty smart.”

You and the others find Janine and Abby immediately rushes to help her, using her medical skills her dad taught her for the better. You watch, bewildered, impressed and obviously aroused the whole time, even when the final bandage is secure.

You hug Janine tightly, though Janines guard is clearly still up.

“Who…who is that?”

“Don’t worry about that, she helped you. Her name’s Abby. It is Abby…right?” You ask, and for the first time you see some colour spread across Abbys face and a warm smile to match it. The indescribable feeling Abby has suddenly became a little clearer as she watches you, happy and safe with your friend. It’s terrifying and electrifying. Does Abby like you? 

“Yeah. Abby Anderson. Now I suggest you both get the hell out of here before my trigger happy friend group decides to test my patience.”

“Both?? You’re letting me go?” You ask her. The other soldiers are nearby but not watching, all immersed in their own conversation.

Abby groans. 

“I’ll probably- scratch that- definitely regret it, so let’s hope you’re gone before that happens.” You leap up and hug her.

“Thank you miss Anderson. We won’t go to your bases anymore. Sorry.” You ease off of her and quickly leave with Janine. Abby’s jaw is slack from the unexpectedness of the hug. She scratches the back of her neck.

She wondered if she’d see that strange girl again.

[strifetxt]

My Stupidest Intro Yet! | Hermitcraft 10 read on ao3

This is a story about love. About drama. About murder. About being really tall and handsome. A story about clicking the subscribe button. But mostly, it's a story about Joel. (written for @extremetimedchallengeexchange)

The scene opens on Hermitcraft Season Ten. We see the wide expanse of Magic Mountain, and the glittering cyberpunk city that rises from its face. As we zoom in closer, he comes into view: our very tall, very handsome, very talented protagonist.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Oh, [FAMILY FRIENDLY CENSOR] off. Let a man take a break, would you!

The audience may note that it’s been nearly a week since our protagonist’s last video went out, and that Editor Joel has bills to pay.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Look, I worked hard on that last recording! Do you see the size of that skyscraper? It’s the biggest thing I’ve built all season, and gathering all those materials took blummin’ ages. Can’t you bother some other Joel for a change?

Tragically, there are no other active Joels at the moment, so Hermit Joel will have to pick up the slack.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: What?! There’s no way that’s true. Oi, other Joels, what are you lot all doing?

GOD JOEL: Don’t look at me. My series ended ages ago, remember? Some Lore™ happened and I ascended to heaven to be tall and sexy for eternity.

KING JOEL: Same here. Season over. Definitely wasn’t because of anything bad happening though.

GOD JOEL: You literally got so sad you died.

KING JOEL: Hey, I wasn’t the one who made that canon. You did that.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Okay, I get that neither of the Empires Joels are available, but surely there’s someone else. How about SOS Joel? He's been active at the same time as me, right?

SOS JOEL: Oh, did you not hear? I blew up.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: What? You had such an easy job, you were just there to do challenges and goof around! You barely even had to do any building! What do you mean you blew up?

SOS JOEL: Look, the server was going to be ending soon anyway, so I figured, may as well go out with a bang. And boy, did we! Took out nearly the entire rest of the server too; I still don’t know how they managed to get the coins to bring all those people back.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Okay, fine. How about you, Life Series Joel? Surely it’s about time for you to have a go?

LIFE SERIES JOEL: Nope. Grian says he’s still working on it.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Ugh. Well, when you get there, can you try to at least make it to the finale again? Give the people some more content, come on, seriously.

LIFE SERIES JOEL: I don’t care how far I get as long as I can finally outlive Scott.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Fine, whatever. What other Joels are there?

Look, you’re just going to have to face the facts. You’re the only Joel active right now, which means you have a video to record. Do you want the Joel who tells people to subscribe to starve?

JOEL WHO TELLS PEOPLE TO SUBSCRIBE: [sniffles] Please subscribe?

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Oh, god, don’t cry, Joel who tells people to subscribe. I promise I’ll get to it, but— Listen, it’s a lot of pressure, being the main Joel! Surely there’s gotta be one other Joel out there with an active series.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Wait a second...

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Where’s Hardcore Joel?

Er, sorry, don’t know who you’re talking about. You mean 100 Hours Hardcore Joel?

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: No, not blummin’ 100 Hours Joel, I know he’s dead. I mean singleplayer Hardcore Joel. Remember? Over two thousand day world? That huge End Island transformation? That Joel?

Riiiiiiight. Um. Yeah, he’s not here.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: What do you mean he’s not here?

Listen, it’s not my fault. You’re going to have to talk to Editor Joel about that one.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Aren’t you Editor Joel?

God, no. Could you imagine, me being that idiot?

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Well, then, who the heck are you?

I’m just the Joel who’s narrating this scene.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Whatever, just get me Editor Joel on the line. I demand to know where Hardcore Joel’s gone!

Time freezes, as it is wont to do while Editor Joel speaks.

EDITOR JOEL: Editor Joel here. I can’t believe these idiots have made me step in. I know what you all think of me, but I do have a life, you know. I had a lovely day hanging with Oli just now, in fact. We went to a nice cafe. But no, none of that matters because I have to fix all the other Joels’ stupid problems before they’ll record any footage. Whatever, they can’t hear me since I’m speaking from the future. I’ll just put Hardcore Joel in and let him explain himself so I can go spend time with my wife.

Time resumes, and Hardcore Joel appears.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Wow, thanks, Editor Joel, I’m sure whatever you said was really stupid and useless like it always is. Anyway, hi, Hardcore Joel. Fancy seeing you here.

HARDCORE JOEL: Oh, yeah? I’m sure it is, since you basically killed me.

There’s a murmur of ‘oooh’s from the other Joels present.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: What do you mean I killed you? You never died! You left off your last video saying you were going to be doing another huge project and then just disappeared!

HARDCORE JOEL: Yeah, I did. Because you know what happened the next month? Yeah. You were born.

The other Joels gasp dramatically in shock.

HARDCORE JOEL: That’s right. As soon as you started Hermitcraft, there was no more time for me. I mean, do you have any idea how long it takes me to record a video? The last one wasn’t even a major project, and it still took more than 150 Minecraft days over the course of, like, weeks! And I had to keep stopping in the middle to AFK at my own farms that I built, and gather my own materials by hand! You have no idea how easy you have it with your stupid shopping district—

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Hey now, the shopping district only helps when people stock their blummin’ shops. Also, I’m poor. Do you even have a concept of being poor without an economy?

HARDCORE JOEL: [shakes his head] Look, I’m not trying to fight here. The point is, your whole existence basically took me out of the game. You can’t afford to disappear from Hermitcraft for weeks at a time just so I can grind out some ridiculous megastructure in a single episode. You get way more views by doing way less. That’s just numbers, baby. In fact, with how long Hermitcraft runs, you might just have to be the main Joel for a long, long time.

There’s a moment of silence as the Joels contemplate this harsh reality.

HARDCORE JOEL: Shut up, Narrator Joel. God, you’re almost as bad as Editor Joel.

[muffled grumbling]

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: But...surely there’s room for more Joels somewhere, right? I can’t be the only Joel forever!

LIFE SERIES JOEL: Hey, man, don’t worry. I’ll still pop up from time to time, as long as Grian keeps making games.

GUESS THE BUILD JOEL: I might get to make a video here and there!

KING JOEL: My series might be over, but I’m still around, one way or another. They even put me on a TCG card!

GOD JOEL: I’m still incredibly sexy.

MCC JOEL: I’ll be even stronger once we finally replace our Starlink Internet!

HARDCORE JOEL: I know I said you killed me, but really, it’s not so bad not being an active Joel anymore. And who knows, maybe if the inspiration hits just right, and we get some time here and there to chip away at it, I might come back now and again.

And so, Joel of Hermitcraft learned that even if he might be the only Joel currently making videos, he would always be supported by every Joel that came before him.

JOEL OF HERMITCRAFT: Aww, thanks, guys. You’re the best Joels a Joel could ask for. Especially you, Joel who tells people to subscribe!

JOEL WHO TELLS PEOPLE TO SUBSCRIBE: Subscribe!

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

What are you trying to say? - Trevor Zegras

Word Count - 3600

Author's Note - I 100 percent projected my own dysleixia hardcore into this. This was 100 percent written for the dyslexic girlies and learning disability girlies only. Also not me accidentally maybe becoming a Trevor girlie after writing this oh no. This one is by far my favorite segment.

Warnings - light angst but like it ends happy shocking for this page, who am I becoming???

Summary - In the talking stage with Trevor Zegras you're not sure how his joking personality will respond to your struggles that you have with being an adult with dyslexia, especially since it doesn't affect you how media expects it to.

Let me love you masterlist main masterlist

This isn’t something new to you, you’ve struggled your entire life with the fact that you're dyslexic. It’s a lot more complicated than people may recognize. Many people assume that it only comes up when you're trying to read something like a textbook or an article, and that when you’re finished with school it won’t really affect your daily life anymore but that’s far from the truth. In truth, being an adult with dyslexia affects you in little ways daily. From having difficulty knowing your left and right when given verbal directions, your spelling being terrible when texting others, mispronouncing certain words and being easily embarrassed when it gets pointed out, or worse sometimes the word is literally on the tip of your tongue you can even physically see in your brain but your mouth can’t form the proper sounds, how certain fonts you struggle to read vs others, or that black ink on white paper is the bane of your existence.  Although all of these are “little” things, it does impact the way you communicate with others. It does feel extremely frustrating sometimes feeling like people think that you're using your dyslexia as an “excuse” when in reality your brain is wired completely differently because of it. 

Since you first met Trevor and started talking to him, you had that fear you always do in the pit of your stomach, will he pick on you the first time that he truly can’t understand a text or the first time he hears you mispronounce a word despite years of speech therapy where you tried to but still you can’t pronounce correctly. Although, part of you knew that your fear was extremely irrational, part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that was until proven otherwise the jokester in Trevor would make a joke about something you truly couldn’t control. 

That is until today, when it happened it’s one of those rare days when you were driving and Trevor was in the passenger seat. His car was in the shop, and he needed a ride back from the arena to his apartment. Originally he was going to take an Uber but since you both already had plans after the morning skate you insisted on picking him up. 

“It’s easiest if you take this right up here to get back to my place.” He directs you without looking up from his phone,you tell him okay, turn on your left turn signal and get in the left lane. Trevor finally looks up from his phone while you're waiting at the red light for it to turn green to see you're in the wrong lane. 

“Sweetie?” asking in a questioning tone

“Hmmm” 

“This is the left lane. I told you to take a right.” Trevor says in a concerning tone as to how you were five traffic lanes away from where you needed to be. 

“sorry I thought you said ‘left’. I can make a u-turn?” Deciding in the moment you didn’t want to admit that you heard him correctly but processed the direction wrong, you offered as the traffic light finally turned green. 

“It’s alright we can just take the long way. Don’t worry about a u-turn.”  Not seeming to care at all that it will add an extra 10 minutes to the drive due to the mistake. 

As you continued driving you ended up making another wrong turn, Trevor put his left hand on your thigh and subconsiously rubbed small circles into skin to comfort your growing anxiety, he could feel this odd tension that was built up in the car. “Can you point please?” your voice barely over a whisper as you felt extremely embarrassed all of a sudden and started feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. 

“Yeah Y/N/N I can do that, we could also switch places. I can drive you the rest of the way if you need it if you're feeling anxious all of a sudden.” Trevor was being really sweet, trying to fix the problem at hand thinking it was just some anxious thoughts and not your brain processing audible information incorrectly. 

“No, pointing is good.” Forcing yourself to look straight ahead because you don’t want to accidentally catch his eyes as he looks at you with a worried look. He squeezes your thigh in a comforting way and drops the topic. The rest of the ride felt quick as he pointed and said the direction you needed to go until you reached his apartment. Finding a parking spot in the garage you parked your car, as soon as you felt your foot on the brake, and your right hand pulled the gear in park, you leaned back automatically and sighed grateful you were done driving. Trevor still had his hand on your thigh, he turned his neck so that his head was also resting on the headrest. 

Trevor patiently waited until you opened your eyes, turning to him with a soft smile. “You ready?” you ask him, as you start to unbuckle your seatbelt. As you grab your purse from the back, your hand on the door handle. His hand that was on your thigh is gone and immediately pulls you by the wrist back into your seat. As he takes his other hand and gently places it on your cheek forcing you to look at him. 

“Can we talk about it?” His voice was steady, calm, confident but soft, almost as if he was scared of your reaction. 

Smiling a little wider now, in a split second you try to decide what you want to do. Do you want to tell a boy who you’ve only been casually talking to and hanging out with a handful of times - one of them being this current moment - about being dyslexic. Although it’s not that big of a deal in retrospect, it’s something that you can never take back once you said the words. Even though it’s something so simple and common no one ever looks at you the same again. Were you ready to tell Trevor, and see his face change permanently or did you want to live in ignorant bliss for a little longer. 

“I’m fine, it’s just when I drive somewhere new I like listening to the GPS and not a person telling me directions, it helps me focus better is all.” sheepishly you admit. 

Ignorant Bliss. That’s the choice you made. 

“Okay well next time, can you tell me that so I don’t have to watch you stress yourself out please?” His hand that was on your wrist, going down to your hand playing with your hand. Taking your hand that he was playing with, fully grasping his you squeeze his hand as a silent yes, and nod your head. He leans over the middle console and quickly peaks your lips as if it was a last minute impulse and he meant the cheek. “Thank you, let's go inside.” 

—-------------------------------

Living in ignorant bliss was great for a few weeks, until you started to actually like Trevor. Talking to a guy for a few months and it not going anywhere vs meeting someone and potentially seeing at least an exclusive relationship with them were two very different things. Knowing that you saw a relationship with him in the future meant it was only a matter of time before he found out that your dyslexic which again isn’t that big of a deal, but the fact that you also lied to him a few weeks ago. Not telling him is one thing, but lying when he asked why you were struggling to drive that day is a completely different act. 

Trying to put off the inevitable you tried to push the thought to the back of your mind. Somehow convincing yourself that if you didn’t think about it, then the problem would disappear he would never find out. I mean when you didn’t know how to spell a word while texting, you just spoke it into your phone. As far as grammar no one really had perfect grammar when texting including Trevor to be perfectly honest he probably didn’t even notice half the time. Plenty of people kept all their devices in dark mode for plenty of reasons, he had no reason to ask, although you did it because it helped your eyes stay focused on the words in front of you, not for the aesthetic. 

Even so, with all of these excuses as to why he wouldn’t notice you failed to remember that certain words you truly can’t pronounce the correct way no matter how hard you try. It all came crashing down tonight when you were at Trevor’s apartment cooking dinner for the both of you. Dinner was almost done at this point, when Trevor came behind you just now re-entering the kitchen after taking an expected call from his little sister. Trevor wrapped his arms around your waist, his head resting on top of your shoulder. 

“Everything okay?” you ask your curiosity getting the best of you, even though you know it’s none of your business. 

“Yeah she’s fine.” Pressing a kiss into where your jawline and neck meet. “smells good.” He compliments your cooking as he teases you one more time with a small nip with his teeth where he just kissed you, before pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder. 

Answering shyly, you let out a “thank you.”

“Anything I can help with?” asking genuinely although you're not sure if it’s to be kind or if it’s because he’s hungry but either way you’ll take it. As he slowly unwraps himself from you, getting ready to help you in any way you need. 

Without looking up from the chicken that you're grilling on the stove, trying to concentrate on the task at hand you answer him. “Yeah actually can you grab out the mellk from the fridge for the mashed potatoes.” Not even thinking twice about what you just said until you heard a chuckle coming from across the kitchen. 

“What babe?” standing in front of a now open fridge, he could have sworn you tried to say milk but botched the word so badly, it couldn’t have possibly been.

“the mellk” finally noticing what you asked for, knowing this is one of the words people can’t help but point out how you butcher it. 

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, truly confused now that he heard it twice. 

“M - il - k “ you repeat slowing down your mouth trying to force yourself to pronounce it properly but also not speak too slowly. Hoping that it's noticeable as you force your tongue to the roof of your mouth to make the “il” sound.  

A small chuckle leaves Trevor’s lips but it wasn’t a malicious way, it was as if he chuckled because he found it adorable. “Here's the milk baby.” walking back over to you and placing it on the empty counter space next to the bowl of steaming hot cooked potatoes. Taking the chicken off the hot burner you moved to the island to where the potatoes were. 

“Sorry” you mumble as he stands beside you, his hip resting on the side of the island. 

“For what?” His eyebrows frowned, his eyes focused the side of your face the only thing he could see. Focusing on the task at hand, you used the potato masher and mashed the potatoes. Opening the milk and adding a little along with some butter that you set out earlier. 

Feeling the rise of some anxiety in your stomach, hoping that you could procrastinate just a little longer on admitting that you didn’t tell him the whole truth. Deciding if now was the time or if you were gonna dig yourself in a bigger hole by wrapping yourself in a thicker web of tiny white lies. 

Finally turning your head to the side to face him and taking a deep breath. 

For good measure making one more deep breath before you barely utter the words, your nerves getting the better of you. “I lied.” 

Trevor’s face immediately changed from confusion and concern. In an instant it became shocking and almost hurt, that the girl he thought was actually going somewhere a month in, is admitting to lying to him. Not when he told her in the beginning that lying wasn’t something he tolerated after his ex lied to him for months and manipulated him. Not when he just told his little sister not even ten minutes ago on the phone that tonight he was gonna ask you to be his official girlfriend. “What are you talking about?” his voice cracking before he could even get the word out, quickly clearing his throat to cover up his own insecurities about the possible tension that could slowly be felt brewing in his kitchen. 

“Remember a few weeks, when I was driving you to your apartment from the stad-” 

“What the FUCK does that have to do with lying to me? When did you lie to me Y/N” Not only has Trevor never once raised his voice at you in a not joking way, but he’s never cursed at you, and his tone made you close your eyes and flinch at the impact. Immediately, seeing you flinch he sighed his hand going to lightly crease her arm closest to him. “When did you lie?” asking at a much softer tone than moments before. 

“I’m trying to explain.” Trevor could have sworn he felt his chest hurt when he heard you struggling to speak, as if you were trying to get yourself not to cry. “Please let me explain.” 

“Okay” he softly let out, as he squeezed your arm not sure if he was trying to comfort you or himself as he felt the possibility of you slipping through his fingers. 

“A few weeks ago when I drove you home.” finally turning her body fully turning to face him. “I lied, When you asked me what happened. I told you I need the GPS because I get overwhelmed.” Pausing to make sure that Trevor was following along, he nodded along, “I lied, sort of,” your voice picking up in speed with each word you uttered out  “I mean I do get overwhelmed while driving but it’s not because of that it’s not that I” 

“Baby please take a breath you're scaring me” His other arm is going to cup your cheek, even though he was mad before as he heard you fixated on driving him home a few weeks ago. He knew it couldn’t have possibly been any of the terrible ideas that popped into his head, at least Trevor hoped not.

 “I sometimes get my left and right confused.” Looking up trying to gauge his reaction, watching as one of his eyebrows go down, as if to say ‘that’s all.’ 

“Okay. So that was the lie? Everyone gets confused sometimes and makes mistakes baby it’s okay” His famous smile slowly takes over his face. 

“That’s the thing is it isn’t sometimes, it’s kind of a lot when I’m driving when someone is giving me directions without pointing, and there are other things too. I mean they're small but they still affect me almost daily and I just.” 

Deciding to take a breath because if you don’t you will be more likely to trip up your words or stutter. “I’m dyslexic and it’s not really how they describe the movies.” 

His smile dropped a little and you swear it felt as if your heart felt as if it had just dropped a hundred flights down the Empire State building. “Dyslexic. Like you mix up letters when reading?”

“Yeah but it’s more than that.”

“Okay. But why didn’t you tell me when it happened? Why did you say it’s because you get overwhelmed.” 

“Because I do get overwhelmed when I make dumb mistakes like that. Plus, everytime I tell someone they never look at me the same. A lot of times they are shocked, and they also sometimes judge me because how does it not affect me the way the media portrays it? Why do I mispronounce words, why can’t I tell my left and right when someone gives me a direction, why I can’t read maps to save my fucking life but yet if I don’t have my GPS running I’m bound to a wrong turn, why does sometimes my mind decide I either can’t come up with a word at all or I can physically see it but I can’t say it and I can’t spell it because I’m such a bad speller.” 

“Shhh” not trying to cut you off but also trying to get you to breathe. “So you didn’t tell me cause you were scared I would look at you differently? Or judge you when something you can’t control comes out at random times of the day? That’s why you told me to point instead of just saying it because you didn’t wanna tell me in fear?” Not sure his tone is showing remorse for you thinking that at all or hurting that you ever would think of him in that way. 

“Yeah.” you embarrassingly admit.

Trevor spent the rest of the night listening to you and how your brain was different due to your own personal experience with being a dyslexic. The next morning you found him reading an article about the effects of different lighting and how dark mode was the best for dyslexics and certain fonts were better than others. It made you chuckle as you told him you knew and that’s why your phone was permanently in dark mode.  That day, he changed all the settings on his tv’s in his entire apartment for dark mode, even all of his own personal devices. Finding it adorable that he went on a tangent when he found out certain apps don’t support dark mode and how he said it was discriminating. Finding it harder and harder for yourself to hide your soft smile as you watched him continue his rant, your heart swelling at how passionate he sounded. 

“I really like you, you know.” you admitted when he finally stopped complaining about how Mirosoft finally started supporting dark mode it was still ‘white paper’ on black ink so they really missed the whole point. 

“Oh yeah.” as he grabs you, pulling you towards him on the couch, tangling your legs with his. 

“Yup” popping the p for emphasis.

“I really like you too. Actually I was gonna ask you.. Wanna make this official and let me call you mine.” The blush was obvious on your face, immediately turning a light red shade, nodding your head he pulled you into a soft kiss. 

—---------------------------------------------

A few weeks later you were out to dinner with a few close friends and Trevor. Currently trying to tell a story about one of your new coworkers and how you didn’t like him but mid sentence you froze. Trevor had yet to see you freeze because the word you planned to say completely escaped you. Of course this wasn’t new to your friends as they saw the familiar signs, the way in which you paused, your lips pursed in a questioning way, your hand coming up and shaking knowing it was on the tip of your tongue and you just couldn’t think of it or couldn’t pronounce it. 

What your friends weren’t used to was seeing Trevor respond to it. His response to you struggling made all of them share a glance in approval of his small action. He took your shaking hand and slipped it into his own. Immediately your small flustered expression on your face turns to him. Your friends couldn’t hear what you were saying between yourselves if you were even talking at all, but they could see the care in Trevors eyes and how your frustration seemed to melt away.

“Hi” he whispers only for you to hear after a couple seconds pass. 

A smile breaks out on your face. “Hi” 

“What are you trying to say?” repeating the same sentence that he asked you weeks ago when you asked him to get the milk out the fridge. 

“I can’t think of it.” a sigh leaving your lips. 

“Describe it.” His forehead resting on yours as you look into his eyes. 

“You know, like a red flag.” 

“Like in dating? So a slang term?” 

“I think.” Pausing for a few seconds for your brian to catch up. “But I know it’s not called a red flag, but it’s like it, I think, like when someone does something and immediately you're like ew.” 

“An ick?” he softly suggests. Immediately your mouth forms into an o-shape in shock, making his mouth twitch into the slightest smile. Kissing his check quickly and whispering a quick ‘thanks’ and turning back to your friends. 

“Okay so like this new dude thinks he can come in and just boss all me and my other co-workers around. That’s not even the worst part like not only is he lowkey sexist, he literally only wears highwaters, immediate ick…” Trevor sat there half listening to your story with a huge smile on his face, hand on your thigh drawing patterns subconsciously as he sipped on his drink. He loves listening to you talk, how you get lost in telling stories and he’s happy he was able to help you instead of you pushing it to the side like you did all those months ago. 

That’s how it is from that night on, anytime you text him and he can’t understand it, or you can’t think of a word, or butcher the pronunciation; he will simply turn to you and ask “What are you trying to say?” 

[luvkypickle]

the start ~ e.m. x reader

summary: When reader finds Eddie's lost notebook on the ground, who knew it would lead to a wonderful night? (lmk if you want a part 2??)

The bell just rang signaling the end of the school day. Eddie is standing with his friends at the front of the school. He stares at you while walking to your car. He hopes you catch his eye so he can wave at you.

"Eddie... Eddie!!"

"What? What?" Eddie snaps out of his haze and is now focused on Gareth and Jeff.

"You're staring like hardcore man, why don't you just go up and talk to her?" Gareth tells Eddie.

"Nah I don't wanna bother her. Maybe I'll say something tomorrow," Eddie replies looking down.

Jeff straightens up and says, "I just had the best idea! Why not invite her to our next concert?"

"She probably doesn't want to go..." Eddie looks down again.

"All right man, you do what you want but just stop staring at her and get the courage to talk to her for once!" Gareth says as him and Jeff walk away to go home. "We gotta go but we'll see you later."

Eddie waves as he starts walking to his van. As he's about to open the door he feels a tap on his shoulder. He flinches slightly as he turns around and his eyes land on you.

"Hi, I'm sorry if I scared you!" you say with a smile. "I saw this in the hallway when I was walking out so I figured I would pick it up to check to see whose it was and I didn't see a name but I saw the little drawings for Corroded Coffin and I remembered that I heard you were talking about that the other day and then I realized it was over by your locker so I figured it was yours!"

Eddie just looks at you dumbfounded as you just stand there speaking.

"Sorry for my rambling, that happens a lot, please just ignore it, but is it yours?" you quickly say.

You reach into your bag and pull out the notebook, holding it out as you were slightly blushing.

You make eye contact with him as he reaches out to grab the notebook.

"Yeah it's mine, thank you so much for grabbing it!" Eddie replies with a smile and your fingers brush together from grabbing the notebook.

You stand there for a minute before turning around. Before you get too far away then turn back around to face him.

"Corroded Coffin is your band right?" you ask with a tilted head.

"Oh.. yeah," Eddie says looking down, scratching the back of his head. "It's nothing big really, just a silly little band. We barely perform for anyone anyway."

"You guys perform in front of people? That's really cool! I'd love to come and see one of your shows?"

Eddie once again has a dumbfounded look on his face. You wanna come to one of his shows? He's ecstatic but doesn't want to show it too bad on the outside. He starts thinking of how you'd look watching him perform at the Hideout. Would he mess up or give the best performance of his life?

"I'd love if you came to one of my shows" Eddie finally snaps out of his thoughts and looks at you with his brown doe eyes. "We're actually performing tomorrow night at this place called the Hideout. It's really cool in there and since it's a Thursday night there won't be too many people there but I'd love to see your face in the audience."

You smile at him and nod, "that sounds perfect! Just give me a time and address and I'll be sure to get there!"

"Uhh here!" He says as he rips a piece of paper out of his notebook and grabs a pen from inside his van. He quickly scribbles the time, address, and a phone number on the paper.

"I, um, actually have band practice today so I have to get going but if you have any questions just give me a call later and I'll be sure to answer." he says as he hands over the piece of paper.

"Okay nice! Thank you Eddie, I'll see you later!" You say as you grab the paper and start walking to car. You look back and wave as Eddie waves back with a smile.

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

"Boys you'll never guess what happened," Eddie shouts as he walks into band practice.

"What, did you gawk at her more after we left and she gave you a smile?" Jeff asks with a smirk.

"Actually, I invited her to out show tomorrow night!"

"Woah no way man, nice job," Gareth says giving him a slap on the back. "What happened when we left?"

Eddie relays everything that happened to the boys as he sits there blushing and beaming. "And our hands brushed together AND she smiled at me... multiple times!"

"Well you better not mess up at all tomorrow" Jeff says as they all start to set up their instruments.

"I won't, I won't," Eddie stared into space while tuning his guitar.

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

The next day, once he gets home from school, he hears the phone ring.

"Hello?" Eddie asks as he picks up the phone.

"Hi Eddie! I'm so sorry to bother you right now, I'm not sure if you're getting ready but is there a dress code for your show?"

He feels himself blushing by just hearing your voice. He forgot he gave you his number.

"Oh hey! Yeah you're all fine! Um you can wear whatever you want, most people that come to our shows are just there for the bar but I think you'll look pretty in whatever you wear."

"Alright thank you! I'm so excited to see you perform, see you in a few hours!" You say trying to hide the smile that crept on your face.

"See you later, "Eddie says with a smile.

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

"So Eddie are you ready?" Jeff asked him as they set up their instruments on stage.

"Yeah I'm totally not freaking out right now," Eddie says, peaking through the curtain to spot your face.

It's finally time for their set to start, Eddie introduces the band and they start performing.

Once the set was over he finally spotted you. You waved at him as he started walking over.

"You did so good! Way better than I was expecting, you said it was just a silly band," You say with a smile as Eddie finally approached you.

"Thank you," Eddie smiled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm really glad you enjoyed."

"Do you normally do anything after your shows?" you asked.

"Well sometimes we just stay here and chat but we always have to pack up our equipment first." He replied.

"Oh okay," you say looking down.

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh I was thinking maybe we could go get milkshakes or something? It's okay if not, I know it's kind of late and you're probably tired."

Eddie is starstruck with your question, "No yeah I'd love to but um..." He trails off looking at the boys who are already smirking and shooting him thumbs up as they overheard your whole conservation. "Okay yeah, did you wanna head out now?"

"Yeah! I rode my bike here though so I can just meet you at the diner?"

"No nonsense! We can just throw your bike in the back of my van and after I can take you home too." Eddie offered.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna keep you out any later than you have to be," you say with a frown.

"Yup everything's all good," He says smiling and leading you out the door. "Just point to your bike and we'll bring it to the van!"

You both find your bike and Eddie puts it in the back of his van. He then runs over to the passenger side and opens the door for you with a bow. You giggle and hop in as he shuts the door and runs to the driver side.

It's a ride of silence. But a comfortable silence.

Once you sit down in a booth, you take a quick look at the menu and decide you want to get a chocolate milkshake and mozzarella sticks.

"Do you wanna split some mozzarella sticks?" you ask, looking up from the menu.

"Yeah sure, I love mozzarella sticks!" Eddie replies with a smile. "What kind of shake are you thinking of getting? I was thinking chocolate."

"I was thinking the same thing actually!" You almost shout.

The waitress comes up asking what you want and Eddie orders for the both of you. After some small talk, your food and shakes come. It was a wonderful night of talking and laughing with Eddie. Unfortunately it had to come to an end when you realized how late it was getting.

After telling Eddie your address, he starts to take you home.

"I had a really good time tonight," you say as he helps you get your bike out the trunk.

"Me too. We should do something like this again?" He says, shyly looking down.

"I would love that! Just shoot me a call whenever! Bye Eddie!"

Before walking away, you placed a kiss on Eddie's cheek. He stands with his hand placed on his cheek staring at you walking towards your door.

"I'll call you tomorrow!" He shouts before getting in his van after you stepped into your house.

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

note: should I make a part 2?

[chloryn]

anyway if no one else will i guess it has to be me!!

klaus hc’s : the situationship edition

part one

content warning;; klaus x reader, klaus with he/they pronouns, female reader, friends to friends who have sex ?, unexpected boners, sexualization without knowledge, guilty conscience (for a minute), oral sex, 90% not canon, mostly just self indulgent writing

a/n;; there’s simply going to have to be a part two, i tried to get all my thoughts out and i couldn’t. it’s three a.m. and i got out what i could.

- it’s his fault truly, i feel like he is such a romantic

- friends first, you’d meet in the evening, at a record store maybe right before closing, or maybe in a café

- when it comes down to people asking about how you met neither of you have the same answer, always the same line

- “we’ve known each other forever”

- late night phone calls to soothe each other

- klaus would be the first to ask you to come over past the usual “hang out” hours

- “i’ve really tried everything y/n, even the hour long meditation cd”

- “please just come over and sit with me?”

- “i’m bored to death” (he’s literally immortal)

- you agree, you’re only a few blocks away from the academy anyway and besides, you couldn’t sleep either

- klaus would meet you halfway and walk you back, he hates the idea of you outside, alone, in the dark.

- definitely the first time you’ve had a good look around their room, you’d only been in it a handful of times and only for a moment or two

- klaus is a messy kind of organized, but it feels so much like him

- his bed sheets are burnt orange, and their duvet is a dark blue, there’s tons of pillows and fuzzy throws littered on the bed. it feels cozy.

- his nightstand is the cleanest thing surrounding you, an incense burner, a pack of old cigarettes, a bottle of high dollar whiskey, and some jewelry strewn around.

- it smells like the night in his room, one window cracked to let in a breeze, a soft candle burning with the scent of pine, and the scent of him causing you to feel oh so comfortable

- for a moment you question why you hadn’t spent more time with them here, why you wouldn’t want to experience such a private part of your best friends life

- but that was it exactly, this was too private

- but klaus felt better, he felt so much safer with you around, with people around in general but when he had called you he knew he wanted you specifically

- he wasn’t completely honest with you about why he couldn’t sleep or what was bothering him, he didn’t want you to know his past or what kept him up at night

- he was lucky enough to have convinced ben to let him have alone time with you, as he wasn’t sure he could keep up that charade much longer without at least claiming to be delusional

- nothing happens the first time you stay over, or the second, or third even

- the weirdest thing to happen is the morning after, at least the first time he walked you out you wore your own clothes

- by the the third “sleepover” you had strolled into the kitchen, one of their sleep shirts and a pair of boxers you prayed passed as shorts thrown on

- you had only been caught by diego and five, both of which seemed to have been in shock and blubbering, obviously a little disappointed in your decisions by the looks they gave

- you knew it looked strange, you weren’t completely oblivious. the real problem was that you expected klaus to be more conscious of what they were thinking. he wasn’t.

- after your third night over in less than two weeks ben broke the news to klaus, everyone in the house, including him honestly, thought you two were hardcore banging. maybe even more since you were sleeping over and wearing his clothes out.

- klaus was APPALLED.

- they literally had no clue what to say, he was slightly embarrassed but also he didn’t completely mind, it was obvious you two were just close friends

- the next time though he was outside your front door when they called.

- “hey”

- he was too nervous someone would embarrass you, what if you were to find out about what everyone was thinking. his house was super off limits right now.

- he figured you’d be more than happy to sleep in your bed anyway.. and maybe they wanted to snoop a little

- you guys spent such little time at your house

- the reality of it was a horrified expression and profuse apologies, you didn’t have nearly as much space or even an excuse to why your house wasn’t as tidy as you wanted it

- you let him in, walking the both of you back towards your bedroom after noting a couch is no place for a sleepover

- deja vu

- klaus would examine all your trinkets, take note of how everything smelled of you, he truly felt so calm

- “y/n?”

- as if it couldn’t get worse, he pulls out your vibrator from beneath the blanket where he sat. snickering, his ears turning a light pink.

-face flushed you would take it from him, scrambling to put it in your bedside drawer

- it finally clicks, he gets it, he knows why everyone thinks you two are at least messing around. because for the first time, he has a painfully hard cock, and it’s just the idea of you touching yourself in the same spot he’s lounging about on

- he tries so hard to play it cool, covering himself with a blanket, using his hand to gently push it down before you notice

- “you wanna do a movie tonight?”

- “ooo of course!”

- you’d beg him to watch a slasher, and as per usual he’d give in, even though he hates them passionately

- comfy clothes, and popcorn with m&ms mixed in, and sugary sweet drinks to pair with

- “pleaseeee” he’d give into your crocodile tears, giving up his clothes to please you

- turning around so one another can change clothes, covering your eyes with your hands

- shirtless klaus

- after his first *ahem* problem, it would only get worse. you’d hide your face in his chest during the jump scares or when things would get eerie, tucking your arms around his torso

- only wearing a pair of thin pajama pants, opting out of the boxers he had so kindly given to you to wear as shorts yet again, even though your entire closet was mere feet away

- he can feel the curve of your breasts against his arm, and your legs slightly intertwined with his and it may actually give him a heart attack

- god it made him feel so guilty, to know you trusted him with so much of you, your life. just for him to be sitting here, in your bed, sexualizing you while you were just trying to hang out

- he tried everything to make it stop, even thinking of how ben would scold him if he were here

- you probably had a quarter of the movie left when your balance would betray you, accidentally slipping and grazing your forearm against his dick

- both of you bolting up. a mixture of shock and embarrassment across your faces

- your thighs clench ever so slightly at the thought of his arousal being over you, tension fogging your brain

- “y/n i’m so sorry”

-“fuck”

- “i don’t know what’s going on with me tonight”

- cue klaus clambering to get up, but you ushering them back down

- “what if.. we just tried it?”

- “maybe we’re just horny, it’s not a big deal”

- soft kisses, wide eyes

- pulling down his pants, his head slightly purple with pre cum leaking, smearing on his happy trail

- “are you okay with this?”

- “you’re allowed to say no”

- slowly kissing up their thighs, licking and kissing up the shaft, suckling hickies onto their lower belly

- SO so sensitive

- “ahh, st-stop”

- “i- i’m not joking, please- please i’ll cum-“

- smooth about the transition, slipping off their pants and straddling you ever so slightly to slide his hands under his your shirt, nudging your breasts further into their hands, whimpering when their fingers wrap around and twist your pebbled nipples

- “you sound so pretty”

- “fuck, are you sure?” “you’re okay with this?” “tell me if you wanna stop, okay?”

- with your consent he slowly tugs on the waistband of his boxers that rest on your hips, letting your shirt fall back down, he may be fully naked and bare but he doesn’t wanna push you to hard

- he waits for your little nod of approval before hooking his fingers, and sliding them down your soft legs

- klaus has seen bare skin before, he’s seen people who had their cocks leaking for him, or their pussy glistening and puffy waiting for him, but he’d never seen anything that compared to you

- the way you were dripping, pussy swollen and visibly aching, clit prominent and perked up, over him, if there was a heaven waiting for him he was sure he’d found it

- he’d start slow, flattening his tongue, lapping all the way up, moaning every time the taste of you hit his tongue, until he got greedy, swirling his tongue around your clit, sucking and teasing, reaching his free hand under your shirt again to palm your tits

- messy and a bit uncoordinated, bucking your hips ever so slightly as your climax approached

-pulling his hands back and wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you still

- “‘m gonna cum, please, oh god”

- “i’m right there please honey, please”

- the endearment, that’s what would send him over the edge, he’d replay the sweetness of it in your voice over and over coming untouched, moaning and crumbling all while still pulling you closer to your orgasm

- following your orgasm till the very end, letting you guide him through, he’d speed up and slow down for as long as it took as long as he knew he was giving you a complete experience

- nuzzling and lapping up your sap

- “you’re so sweet” “so divine”

- he’d be so exhausted after, but he’d want you to have everything you needed

- “can i get you anything?” “i’ll grab you some water” “let’s clean up, i’ll help you”

- after he was sure you were well taken care of and comfortable, he’d ask you to lay with him. to soak up the afterglow of it all.

- he’d never had this kind of erotic experience before but he knew he may never have it again so he wanted to savor it. and potentially attempt to make it so good you wanted it to be a regular occurrence.

- he would give you the option of him leaving or staying, the sleepover boundary had officially been crossed creating a whole slew of new possibilities

- “stay, please”

- cuddling while sleeping was like a whole new kind of intimacy for him. the way your hair tickled his nose, being able to hear your steady breaths.

- bonus content: ben appearing at an ungodly hour to make sure klaus is okay, and realizing not only would he have to live with his nosey decision, but also with the fact that he couldn’t tell anyone what he knew.

[dark-and-kawaii]

Okay but what are some HCs for Zevlor Raphael and Haarlep and what they like in bed 👉👈

୨♡୧ What They Enjoy ୨♡୧

18+

Zevlor - Haarlep - Raphael

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: I could go on for hours about this because honestly it depends on all their moods!! But here’s what I have today!!

⋆˙⟡♡ Choking | Love | Toys | Breeding | Bed Breaking

Zevlor

The tiefling gives off switch vibes. Zevlor is ready to fulfill your every plea whether it be him on top doming you or being a soft bottom. It's always about you, as Zevlor's main goal is to make you happy.

However, on those rare occasions when it's about him, it's usually because he's feeling a bit frustrated. But oh boy, once he takes full control over you, you better be prepared for a wild ride that will leave your bed in dire need of replacement. And don't be surprised if you find a delightful tail shaped bruise on your thigh or wrists, evidence of his firm grasp on you to keep you in place.

Prepare yourself for a shower of pet names and praise from Zevlor. You're his whole world, and he loves showering you with the sweetest of endearments. He'll worship your body like it's his personal temple, tracing his thumb over any imperfections on your flesh before expressing his deep appreciation for your beauty (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

Choking. He takes pleasure in lightly grabbing your neck, and sometimes his tail acts on its own, gently wrapping around your neck while you go down on him. And guess what? He absolutely adores it when you use his neck as leverage as you grind down onto his beautiful cock. It's a vulnerable position that he would never allow anyone else to put him in, but he trusts you with his life!

Now, if you're looking for Zevlor to be mean and degrading, you better buckle up because it'll take quite a bit of convincing. We're talking a lot of convincing here. But hey, if you push Aradin in front of Zevlor, that might just be enough to ignite that side of the tiefling and have him fulfill your desires for some deliciously mean treatment. In the moment he loves it, but afterwards he’ll always feel bad and express it on his face.

Zevlor's heart yearns for slow, passionate sex that ends with him creamping you. He wants to savor every moment with you, to truly feel and appreciate your connection before filling you with his potent seed.

When it comes to punishment, Zevlor is more of a gentle spanker. He can't bring himself to hurt you, as he cherishes your well being and wants to maintain a loving dynamic.

Biting and leaving small marks are Zevlor's guilty pleasures though! Will always leave them in places where you can easily hide them. He secretly loves the possessiveness and connection that comes with marking you as his lover.

Zevlor's fantasy involves engaging in intimate acts in semi-public places, the risk of potential discovery adding an extra layer of excitement for both of you.

And let's not forget Zevlor's deep need for a family. He absolutely has a breeding kink and dreams of building a future with you. Perhaps it's time to consider giving him what he’s been dreaming of *wink*!

Haarlep

Haarlep is a hardcore dom with an insatiable desire for control. It's just in their nature, but oh, how they adore it when that spark ignites within you and you take charge. The way you pleasure yourself to their body sends a thrilling chill up their spine, and you can always tell when Haarlep is happy by the telltale sign of their tail.

Now, i think we all know this but Haarlep is a true sadist. They derive pleasure from witnessing your tears, pushing you to the point of crying, begging, and whining. Your tears are a delectable treat for them, and they take delight in licking your messy face clean, relishing the taste of your salty tears against their tongue.

Edging and the use of degenerate names are Haarlep's specialties. They enjoy teasing you to the brink of release, denying you until you're a quivering mess beneath or atop of them. And when it comes to punishment, my dear, if you dare to challenge or provoke them, don't expect to find release that night. Haarlep knows how to discipline a brat and keep them in line.

Haarlep will degrade you until you’ve earned their praise, my dear *Winks*!

Haarlep absolutely loves fucking you in places where the risk of being caught is high. The scandal of the all powerful tav fucking a lowly incubus is so fun for Haarlep.

Toys, my dear, hold a special place in Haarlep's heart. They enjoy using anything they can find on you, pushing you to new limits. Love watching your stomach bulge with their tail.

Bondage, chains, gags, and the use of their tail are a must for them.

Choking, uh yeah! Prepare yourself because your neck will bear the marks of their hands and tail. The sight of your eyes rolling back and your mouth hanging open for precious air always sends Haarlep over the edge further, it’s intoxicating.

An ownership dynamic is something that Haarlep finds alluring. You’re theirs, right? No one else’s. Haarlep will always finds way to make this known.

Despite all this though, Haarlep does enjoy connection with you if you’re their little dove. Will pull you into their chest, entwine their fingers with yous, their tail curling around so limb of yours simply because you are theirs and they refuse to let you go.

Raphael

Switch, but he rather you do the work/ warm his cock and ride him while he’s sitting writing out a new contract/writing in his diary. He’s a man that enjoys a good performance after all.

Blood play & knife play. He has a fascination with your blood, finding it sexually arousing. Will use a gold dagger to create controlled cuts -especially on your inner thigh- before dragging his tongue against the wounds he inflicted. Period sex is totally fine with him.

Breeding kink. The devil is lonely, you’re his little mouse and he’ll make sure you remember this and make damn sure you’re stuck with him. Besides, having a little him around house hope doesn’t seem all that bad considering he can shape the little thing into a copy of him.

Possessive, scratching and bruising you gives him satisfaction. The devil is possessive by nature so marking you is a must no matter what. Enjoys scratching and bruising you till you’re begging him to stop, leaving visible reminders of his control and ownership.

Sadist as well as humiliation. Raphael fully embraces his sadistic nature, finding immense joy in inflicting pain on you. He takes delight in your suffering and is always satisfied with your reactions. Loves to humiliate you, has taken you in front of the souls that are trapped within his home, loves grabbing you by the hair forcing you to look at them while he degrades you.

Master & slave dynamic along with dumbification. Enjoys the concept of dumbification, reducing his little mouse’s intellectual capabilities and turning you into a submissive and obedient cock sleeve.

Raphael likes controlling your orgasms, loves having power over you, denying or prolonging your release. He gets off in edging you, pushing you to the brink of climax and then denying you the satisfaction of release.

Exhibitionism, enjoys watching and feeling Haarlep use you like some rag doll, won’t allow the incubus to ever finish- Raphael will take over when he’s good and ready.

[leafydahbeafy]

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Summary: You and Sal are chilling in his car thats parked out by Wendigo Lake.. some feelings lingering in the air.

Word count: 1.4 k

content warning: nothing real bad here, fluff!! Sal smoking cigarettes, mild cursing, slight cringe at the end

A/n: first time ever posting my writing so don’t eat me up like hounds alr 😭? I don’t mind criticism and I’d appreciate it. Thanks! 💕

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

.

.

.

“Cmon, light me”

“Fine fine”

Fake reluctance was plastered on your face as you leaned over the center console of Sal’s car with a lighter held firmly in your hand, holding it out for Sal to light his cigarette. You flicked open the hood and pressed your thumb down on the fork, a small flame emitting from the lighter. The soft glow of the flame being the only light shared between the two of you in the old dingy car that you are sure is being held by a thin strand and is destined to break down on the two of you at any point in time.

Sal couldn’t help himself as his gaze shifted from the lighter to the light from the small flame that caressed your face and outlined the features on your face. It awoke a feeling inside of him that almost felt suffocating from how intense it was. A feeling he so desperately tried to fight away and to bury them in the very deepest pits of his chaotic mind. But yet you always preserved and shone as bright as the sun in his mind. A rigid smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, One that could not be seen though, as you couldn’t see it behind the prosthetic mask that covered his brutally scarred face.

Without another word being shared between the two of you, Sal stuck the cigarette through the mouth slit in his mask and placed it in his lips. He leaned forward with his eyes still trained on your face as he let you light the cigarette he held in his mouth. It took everything in you to stop yourself from squirming underneath his yearnful gaze, the unspoken chemistry that you and Sal shared was becoming increasingly harder to ignore. No one person could thrill you in the way that Sal does, no one.

Sal moved his face away from the flame, shifting in his spot as he leaned back into the car seat. He took a long drawl from his cigarette, puffing out the smoke from his nose as a soft sigh of content escaped his lips. You watched in awe at how mesmerizing this man was, the way his hair so perfectly fell across his shoulders and for god's sake let's be honest even just the way this man breathes has you stumbling over yourself. The hum of music coming from the radio had drowned out all other noises as you found yourself getting lost in your thoughts.

Sal’s gaze had flickered back over to where you were sitting in the passenger's seat, the corners of his eyes crinkling as a smile spread across his lips at your daydreaming state. A chuckle rumbled in his throat which almost immediately snapped you out of your whirlwind of a mind. Your eyes shifted up to meet Sal’s amused look, a faint blush spread across your face that you desperately tried to hide by fake coughing. This only caused Sal to become more humored by your actions, his eyebrows raising as he stared at you in amusement.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about hm?” He hummed as he took another drawl from his cigarette, the slight rasp to his voice had stirred the butterflies that flapped wildly in the confines of your stomach.

“Oh… nothing much..” You responded with a forced smile that you used to hide behind your true feelings. In reality you wanted to grab his stupid face and scream “GOD I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT”. But yet you didn’t.. You wished you had the confidence to do so. You were always more of a quiet, introverted person that primarily kept to themselves. Well that was until Sal barged into your life like a hangover after a night of hardcore drinking and clubbing with your friends. At first he was a headache and a parasite you so desperately wanted to get rid of as he had started to disrupt the very foundation that you had built your life upon. But as a parasite does, he had weaseled his way into your heart and now here you were. Sitting together alone in his car by Wendigo lake after he had hit you up, asking if you wanted to sneak out with him.

You had gotten so warped with the thoughts that ate at your very being that you hadn’t noticed the electric blue-haired boy shifting in his seat, getting up into your face. Realization at the close proximity of you two had finally registered in your brain and a more prominent blush crept up onto your cheeks as you sucked in your breath in anticipation. Sal’s face was mere centimeters away from yours and it made it impossible to fight back every urge to kiss him. He didn’t even seem to notice your flustered state as his desirous gaze had delicately traced over every feature on your face.

He eventually moved his head back ever so slightly, his eye glossing over as he pondered, “Nothing huh” He whispered thoughtfully with a click of his tongue before his gaze returned to normal and flickered back over to look into your eyes as if he were dissecting the look in your eyes for something. “Doesn’t seem like nothing, no shame this is a safe space. Sal’s little therapy box, here you can tell me your deepest.. Darkest secrets and they won’t ever leave this car” He continued with a more amused glint to his eyes “I pinky promise.” He held out his pinky to you with such a serious look to his face that it almost made you burst out laughing. He was dead serious about this pinky promise thing huh?

“It’s nothing that serious!! I was just thinking that’s all!” You rushed out while waving away his pinky that he so generously held out for you to accept in a soul binding promise “..at least nothing I can say aloud..” you had whispered the last part out under your breath but much to your dismay Sal had caught that.

“I’m sure that isn’t true.” His eyes softened as he reached out to put his hand atop yours in what was meant to be in a comforting manner but only strived to make the situation worse for you. A tingling sensation spread through your hand to your whole body from where his hand lay on yours. You let out a breath that made your body shudder in response as you tried to formulate words on your tongue.

“Sal…” His name was like honey on your tongue “I.. do you like me..?” you regretted the words as soon as they left your lips, god you wish you could just shove them back down your throat. Sal’s look of confusion didn’t help with how you were feeling either, his eyebrows furrowing softly as he stared at you.

“Of course I like you. Why wouldn’t I?” No man has also ever made you facepalm as much as Sal has. You couldn’t help but look up at him with a look of bewilderment.. Was he serious? There’s no way that flew over his pretty little head.

“I– no Sal I er meant.. Do you.. Like like me?” You could feel yourself cringe at your own words “Oh for fucks sake, im done with tiptoeing around this. Ahem. Sal, do you love me at all? Not as a friend, romantically.” Your voice trembled ever so slightly, the most serious look you could muster was etched across your face so Sal would know this wasn’t a joke. You were dead serious.

.

.

.

.

“Do I love you?”

The words echoed off of Sal’s tongue in such a way that it made you wince slightly, “I shouldn’t have said anything! Sorry–! God.. I'm such an idiot.” You rushed out, the last part came off as a whisper as you retracted your hand from his “I Just– I don’t know. We always seem to be hanging out.. It seems like it’s more than just friends.” Due to your rambling you hadn't noticed the sound of someone unbuckling straps, “And– and I’m.. i’m such a–”

Calloused fingers firmly held either side of your face and before you could even get another word out, Sal’s scarred lips ghost over yours and bring you in for a short yet passionate kiss, your brain overheating at the action as a feeling of ecstasy washed over you.

.

.

.

.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Oh shut up.”

[theemissuniverse]

Okay y’all hear me. HEAR ME OUT. I think I’m onto something.

Maybe not EVERY Mortal Kombat man like I don’t know…IS DOMINANT OR HAS REALLY AGGRESSIVE KINKS??? Just a thought.

Okay fr tho this is just my opinion but like for example do y’all think Raiden is calling their s/o a slut? RAIDEN???????

Furthermore, just because Johnny has an eccentric personality does not mean man is into hardcore bdsm or is THAT rough during sex. Johnny is a ladies man which mean he does CATER TO WOMEN. (One things I can believe though is he may have a “daddy” kink bc of his ego but like nothing going into the realm of wtf)

Let me also add Liu Kang. Yes, I believe that between him and Raiden (MK 1) he has the ability to be more dominant but at MOST he’s like a soft Dom. Again-nothing extreme at all. Liu Kang is not degrading his partner. I refuse to believe that.

Don’t even get me started on Smoke. Smoke?! Again, I repeat-SMOKE?!?!!?

I don’t even think my man Bi-Han, yes Sub-Zero himself is into the hardcore stuff. Just because he’s an asshole does not mean he’s into all that. 😭

I mean it’s your life so at the end of the day, write what you want but oh my god, I want to read good written smut. I cannot stand reading smut where it’s like too much degrading, too much of the word “daddy”, and too much of the kinky shit. Like can we start writing smut that happens between two people? Bc I feel like some of y’all have never actually had sex before. (Coming from someone that actually HAS)

That’s my rant. In conclusion-I hate it here. Anyways go read my stuff.

MASTERLIST

[ctrlsatoru]

DIABLO CH2 - TOJI FUSHIGURO

content: techbro billionare!toji, reader is gojo's little sister, age gap (toji's in his mid 30s, reader in mid 20s) kind of ooc toji, suggestive themes, no smut yet. protective!toji and also asshole!toji. warnings: 18+ only. suggestive themes. explicit language, references to being roofied. toji being toji. minors do not interact. pairing: toji fushiguro x afab gojo!reader word count: 8k tags: @liitlesushi a/n: ok so this might be longer than I anticipated and also semi slow burn. it'll be worth it, trust. summary: It's Gojo's anniversary party, you're doomed by your Satoru's whims, haunted by your father's scheming, and now a devilish third player appears: Toji Fushiguro. And he's here to collect.

Toji opens his eyes, manually focusing on the ceiling above him. The strange pattern spun in slow circles, and then it settled.

This bed is not his own. The pillow feels too flat under his head, which is throbbing painfully. He feels like a dozen horses ran over him. A voice, distinctly female, unnecessarily loud, makes him wince and curse under his breath.

“... If I agree, and I haven’t, you’re not picking my outfit. Know that .”

This is unlike him. He can’t remember a thing. The one good thing about not recognizing the bed is that he’s not gonna have to deal with a strange woman in his place–

“Because your conception of what’s socially acceptable to wear to a formal function is not tethered to earthly reality, Satoru.”

Oh.

It’s you .

You’re on the phone, standing by floor-to-ceiling windows. The sunlight casts off your ring like white laser when you turn, blinding him.

“Mornin’” he croaks, pushing himself to sit against rough the rattan bed frame. The room moves from side to side, like you’re both stuck in a boat, and not in one of Haibara's many guest rooms. It’s all coming back to him, the party, watching you and your boyfriend’s fight, the deck–

“Oh. Hey, buddy.” you say idly, looking over your shoulder as you sit on the other side of the bed, your ring-covered finger tying some slutty sandals around your ankles like some kind of shibari countess. The strap of your top falls as you lean over. Toji’s buffering.

His ears must be fucking deceiving him. 

Buddy?

The fuck?

He can’t for the life of him remember anything after the deck. You’re zooming through the room, texting furiously. On top of that, you look fresh and plump like lettuce out of the fridge, don’t you? But he had to blink several times to break through the layer of crust around his eyelashes, and his body is telling him you two fucked like animals for the past 12 hours.

Or he spent the weekend in the trenches. 

He feels wildly unprepared for this morning after, and it’s a just fucking relief that you’re keeping your distance until you start tap tap taping your little heels to the door.

“The hell do you think you’re goin’?”

You stop, surveying him over your shoulder like he’s coming close to being some sort of inconvenience. 

And then the corner of your lips lifts, the mole on your cheek jumping with the motion.

“It was fun.” Your phone starts ringing again. The sound drills a hole into Toji’s temples. “Too bad that it never happened.”

With that, you’re gone. 

You abandon Toji with a bunch of unconscious people scattered around the house and Haibara, who’s still young enough to not know what a real hangover is. The kid will just not shut up about some hardcore surveillance system he had installed around the house recently after he noticed someone was stealing from his Kaws collection.

Toji listens to the whole story, sipping on the cold pressed green juice Haibara made himself, simply refusing to use the crystal straw, and makes a promise to himself. You’ll pay for whatever it is you did to him.

Even if he doesn’t remember what that was. Yet. It doesn’t matter. You’ll pay anyway. Nicely. 

“Say, kid.” he asks Haibara, licking the green foam off his lips and putting down the empty glass on the counter. The juice tasted just like it looks, which is cow puke, but his mind is somewhere else. Machinating. Scheming. 

“This system of yours, does it cover the whole house?”

Here’s the thing.

There are many things Toji isn’t. 

For starters, he’s not easily bothered by most things, a trait that people usually mistake for a personal attack, like it has anything to do with them and isn’t just the hand that he was dealt. People assume others, in this case him, think about them more than he can be bothered to. 

He’s not a control junkie either, not anymore. He left those days behind.

Control isn’t something he needs to worry about anymore. He has plenty of it. If something gets out of line, it gets back on it automatically. That’s just the way life is. Sure, he had his vices back then; lactose, gambling, adrenaline, women. 

But the thing is, you learn a few things with age, right? Shiny things lose their sparkle. The excitement wears off. Nothing is safe from becoming predictable, not even the rush of hearing bone crack under his fists or the juiciest, tightest pussy presented to him on a tray.

And this sheds a light on the fact that he’s way past the age of being pussy whipped.

“You cannot be serious.”

So why the fuck is Shiu Kong looking at him like that? 

And who does he think he is standing next to him, all up on his screen, and mind you, only alive thanks to the fact that Toji has lost some edge from his gory days?

He shuts down the tab like a kid who got caught watching porn on the family PC.

“You listen to me. Don’t you ever fucking do that–”

“The Gojo kid?” 

Toji’s eyebrows dig into his face because you’re certainly not a kid. No. Kids don’t look like that. Kids most certainly don't go around passing people horse tranquilizer or whatever the fuck it is you fed him with that glossy mouth of yours.

And that’s what you did. That’s as far as he can remember. 

“Is that what’s been–”

“I’m gonna stop you before you say some dumb shit and piss me off any further.”

Shiu’s been pestering him for days now about the upcoming iteration and the threat of several deadlines. Toji has been brushing it off. No nagging back or shutting down his complaints. 

Somehow, his silence only pushes the stick further up Shiu’s ass. Like he’s his sexually neglected wife of 40 years.

Truth is, he hasn’t given the dynamic with his CFO/best friend much thought lately. Why would he when there’s an infuriating, mouthy woman with siren eyes that somehow look down at him even when he’s about two heads taller than– 

You.

“–stalking the poor girl on the desktop version of Instagram.”

Toji returns to the conversation. “I don’t stalk people. I’m a grown-ass man.”

And you’re not a girl either. You’re something else. He hasn’t figured what yet.

“Mm. So am I.” Shiu says, still standing there with his hands in his pockets, head tilting down at some forgotten paperwork on his desk. “And even I know looking at someone’s profile on a desktop computer is a concerning level of unemployment, which you’re not at. Yet.” 

Toji’s not that thick-headed. He knows he’s been distracted, but he can’t just brush that night at Haibara's away.

You pop up in his head unannounced and make yourself comfortable, rent fucking free. Like a little squatter. In the middle of meetings, when he's driving back home, at the gym, when he’s at the club with a gorgeous woman on his lap. 

It’s becoming so frustrating that he’s started to despise you for real, and not just the made-up version of yourself he created when he met you and decided you were an ill-mannered bunny that he wanted to toy with for a bit.

In this scenario, of course, he was a wolf.

No one ever talks about how sometimes the bunny knocks the wolf out and bolts the morning after.

Days pass and his mind is blank of memories, no glimpses, no time-stopping sex flashbacks, just a bunch of strange vivid dreams about you that would make any mid-century french cult film director weep and the Soviet Union recoil. They distract him to the point of him nearly knocking the front teeth off his trainer’s face, or spilling orange juice all over his clothes this morning.

Toji’s positive you didn’t fuck. Sure, you had a bit of bed hair, but your face lacked the I-was-fucked-by-the-Toji-Fushiguro glaze he's used to seeing in women and takes pride in. You looked perfectly fine, collected enough to be giving your dimwit brother hell on the phone and fuck with him before disappearing.

It was fun.

He was also wearing underwear, and you walked just fine. No wobbly legs or tilted hips. No bruises on your neck or scratches on his back– 

Too bad that it never happened.

You had shared a bed, that much he knew. He caught a whiff of your perfume after you left. He had cursed you then, feeling like a pathetic fucking dog sniffing up some pillows, but now the confusion and annoyance faded to a curiosity that extends past the time in his head he gives to the best lays he’s had. 

So today he put up an incognito tab and looked you up hoping to find something annoying, corny or pathetic about you to make you unappealing, and somehow he landed on your personal IG profile. 

You posted a set of pictures three days ago of meaningless corners at some random location. The fourth picture is a snap of what looks like your desk. There’s a polaroid of you and your fiancé next to a stack of notebooks.

You’re standing in front of him, leaning your head to the side with his chin resting nice and cozy on your shoulder, his nose pressed against your neck. Toji's lip curled in distaste.

He found your twitter account as well, because why not? And found nothing of particular interest. You stick to promoting your work and that's the end of it. Other people in your circle, on the other hand…

Toji went through a twitter phase not too long ago. He found endless amusement in pissing people off with less than 140 characters and replying to those who enjoyed his work. He uninstalled the app the second he found people selling mugs with screencaps of his tweets. 

Safe to say the decision made Shiu’s and the PR team quite happy. 

He’s out of the loop with the overall discourse, but it’s clear that you have farmed your own dedicated micro following online and your boyfriend is some kind of A24 flowerboy on the rise. 

Toji heard of him before meeting you. His newfound success is the byproduct of his dreamy looks, a melancholic breakout role and the occasional activism, something that's been often questioned due to his relationship with you, and the consequential ties to your family.

Both of you, as a couple, act like viagra for a very specific, insufferable and presumptuous crowd. They’re hyper-focused on the fact that you haven’t posted him on your stories for weeks, that Hiroki allegedly deleted some posts with you on Instagram, and that he's been caught dreamily staring at his female co-star during press conferences.

Why people choose to waste their time with their noses up stranger's ass is something Toji does not understand, life being as short as it is.

“Please tell me that’s not her twitter account,” Shiu says. Toji inhales sharply. “This is more pathetic than I thought. No wonder you haven’t gotten anything done in days.”

He kills the rest of the tabs, spitting over his shoulder “I can’t very well do my fucking job if you’re breathing over my fucking shoulder, can I? You know how I fucking feel about people standing behind me when I’m trying to get shit done.”

“Twitchy .” Shiu notes and takes his sweet time walking around his desk, plopping down on the chair.

“Yep, take a seat, why don’t you.” Toji grumbles.

Shiu drums his fingers against his knee, a sign that he’s craving a cigarette, surveying him.

“So I’m gonna take a leap of faith here and assume this is some kind of executive-level scheming, and you’re just exploiting a vulnerability.”

Toji’s face twists like he sucked on a lemon at the mere thought of it. 

“You know damn well the day I do business with that old cunt will be the day your ex-wife comes clean about what she did at that yoga retreat in Bali and asks for forgiveness.”

“Figures. So?”

“You’d probably take her back. Fucking cuck.”

“She really got under your skin, didn’t she?” Shiu notes, unbothered by the unprovoked attack. 

Toji sniffs, comes down from the spike of anger, and finds a more comfortable position on his chair.

“She owes me.”

Shiu leans his head back, mildly amused. 

“You adding usury to your ledger now?”

“Not money.”

“Alright then, I don’t want to know.”

Lies. But Shiu knows better than to push too much. Toji’s the type to hoard details not because he’s afraid of compromise, just to be an asshole. 

It’s refreshing to see him almost… desperate. If you were anything like your brother, Shiu thought, you might be just the perfect little karma agent for his best friend.

“Fine. You get that business sorted. You’re no use to me if you’re distracted.”

“You worry about sorting your own business and I’ll worry about mine, Kong.”

Shiu stands up, fighting back a smile until he opens the door, stopping at the sight of Toji’s assistant about to knock.

“What is it?” Toji asks, scratching his eyebrow, already exhausted.

Keiko looks down at the tablet in her hands, hesitant.

“The team at Gojo Corp has reached out, sir. It seems Gojo Shinobu would like to invite you to dinner next week.”

The look on Shiu’s face as he slowly turns to face him is priceless. Toji rests his elbows on his desk, a sinister smile pulling at his scar.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?”

“Interesting indeed.” Shiu agrees. Keiko eyes them skeptically, because her boss smiling like that cannot mean anything good for society, or her sleep schedule.

“I better get to work then, eh?”

“Anytime would be nice, yes.” Shiu says, turning to Keiko. “I guess I’ll finally find out about Bali, then.”

So you might be thinking, look at him backtracking like that. 

Don’t get him wrong, it’s nothing like that.

Toji’s sitting across from Gojo Shinobu, the man, the myth, the bigot himself, with absolutely no intention of making business with him.

He’s just sniffing the territory.

In person and up close, Shinobu's a disturbing aged mix of you and your brother: the hair and the uncanny valley eyes went to him, but the eyebrows, the slope of his nose, it’s you. Even the handshake, firm and tight like a war general, reminds Toji of you.

Gojo Shinobu’s old as the fucking bible. His eyes are graying, eyelids sagging but it's clear that grandpa's still sharp.

For the record, Toji doesn’t like the old fart. He represents many things that he despises about older generations, and his business model is one of the many reasons for the country living in the past, but he’s not about to get political. 

Not liking Gojo Shinobu doesn't mean he has no respect for him, so he’s honest and immediately shuts down the proposal of Gojo Corp. being involved in future Diablo releases.

Dignified, not happy, but never one to accept a no, Shinobu just smiles, brushes his beard like a Ghibli villain, and switches the subject.

Alcohol involved and pretending to put business talk aside, the conversation flows easily. Your father has a surprisingly entertaining dry sense of humor. Toji supposes you stop giving a shit when you have one foot in the grave, he also imagines the borderline cruel wit had something to do with your mother getting knocked up with you at the peak of her career as an actress and sex symbol.

“I hear you have a kid.”

“Two.” Toji corrects, remembering that he’s supposed to pick up Tsumiki in an hour. Ballet class. She’s getting rather serious about it. “A girl and a boy.”

“Ah, good balance.” Shinobu nods with a knowing smile. “They listen to you? How old are they?”

“15 and 16. And they do.”

They don’t, because they’re teenagers, not soldiers. Megumi and Tsumiki are good kids, certainly better than he was at their ages, they don’t need him ordering them around, watching their every step.

“Dangerous, dangerous age.” your father hums. “You make sure they do that, save yourself the bitterness in the future.”

Damn. Alright. Toji lifts his eyebrows and leans back, listening. That’s all it takes.

“You’d be surprised. You get a little too light handed, and a perfect sapling can get ruined just like that.” he snaps his fingers. “It’s harder to straighten them up as they grow up.”

Toji takes a long, good sip, fighting back a chuckle. He has no concerns when it comes to who or how people choose to fuck, but the blatant homophobia is always amusing.

“And then they gang up on you.” Shinobu scoffs. Toji can imagine you and your brother scheduling a year worth of publicly terrorizing Shinobu. “No wife? You raising them on your own?”

“I am.”

“Good man. It’s hard, honest work. Make sure you look for a good one to settle with, not all of them are in touch with their motherly instinct.”

His assistant comes in, tells him someone has arrived, and Shinobu makes a noise with his nose or mouth that reminds Toji of an exasperated horse.

“Take the advice from me. You see–”

He leans over the table, brushes his beard. 

“If, and I am not wishing this upon you, your daughter comes of age and– after years of picking up and dropping all sorts of interests with no interest in commitment,"

He pauses, chuckling humorlessly.

"–comes to the conclusion that she wants to waste her life playing with cameras and hanging out with gender-bending creatives,”

The word is said with so much despise Toji feels like there should be a new phobia for it.

“You have to sit down and choose what’s more important; letting her waste her potential away, or being in her good graces. More often than not it can’t be both, that’s just how it is.”

Perhaps Toji hasn’t given you enough credit. You could’ve ended up a lot worse than you are. Knocking him out was nothing. You could’ve chopped him up, kept his dismembered body in your fridge, and he’d see where you're coming from.

“But when she tells you she wants to let some vulture into your family and make him blood, you take matters into your own hands.” he nods firmly, like it’s Toji he’s mad at, and finally looks over his shoulder, nostrils flared.

Asaya Hiroki approaches the table. Jetlagged eyes, tail between his legs.

“Fushiguro, this is Asaya Hiroji, my daughter’s boyfriend.”

Hiroki looks like he has half a mind to correct him on either the name or relationship status but he’s too fond of keeping his head attached to his body.

Hiroki’s pretty. Toji can’t compete in that department. He looks like he puts sugar and milk on his tea and smashes the china on the floor when he’s told he can’t have more, like a psychotic puppy. 

In other words, you make sense together. 

You like to look at pretty things so your boyfriend’s cute. No harm in acknowledging that, though he remembers Tsumiki mentioning that when noses dip down like that it means there’s some kind of prosthetic. 

And if you pay attention, really read between the lines of his 90’s film heartthrob face, something’s off with him, isn’t it?

But what does he care? A nose job is no crime. Hiroki has other flaws to offer. For example, he has a rather shitty way of hiding the fact that he’s doing something he’s not supposed to. 

Perhaps, even, going behind someone’s back.

And the guy calls himself an actor.

Satisfied with the results of what he thought would be a waste of an afternoon, he excuses himself. He’ll be just in time to get to Tsumiki’s class before it’s done and have the other kids’ moms and nannies ogle at him. Tsumiki hates it when he does that.

“Don’t be a stranger, Fushiguro. I’d like to keep this channel between us open. I hope to see you at the anniversary party.”

“Pardon?” Toji stops, surprised.

“The company’s anniversary party this Friday,” Shinobu says, like it’s obvious. “I’d like you to meet my son, and well, you’re already acquainted with my daughter.”

Hiroki’s round bobba eyes follow him all the way to the grand crystal doors. Toji has the distinct feeling that he was just part of Shinobu taking matters into his own hands. 

He’s both disturbed and impressed. He never mentioned meeting you, and he’s pretty damn sure that this detail didn’t slip from your lips either.

 

Every year the company throws an anniversary party, and you and your brother and every high-level employee have to attend and listen to your father’s rendition of why diesel was better and how you’re all wimps for being born after the extinction of smallpox. 

The one year that you didn’t attend, because you were stuck in Norway with a canceled flight, your father spent exactly 11 months reminding you of it like you had any say in the weather conditions of the North Sea.

Tonight might be his last speech as chairman, since he’s about to step down from his position after growing health concerns. The company has gone all out; live music, huge venue, ice sculptures, people are dancing. They've put so much effort your father's probably more annoyed than anything.

Suguru approaches you at the empty family table and sits down next to you with a knowing smile, like he's thinking the same thing as you while you're watching people waltz. He’s looking as handsome as ever, you just miss the bangs framing his face.

“So, when do you think he’s going to publicly execute the medical staff that diagnosed him with Alzheimer’s?”

“Probably after he declares war on Gretha Thunberg.”

You’re wary. He might have everyone convinced, but it’s not like him to step down quietly. Your instincts are telling you to expect shenanigans tonight, and they’ve never once failed you.

“Seems too good to be true, don’t you think?” you say, eyeing the crowd. “I don’t know how Satoru’s so cool about it.”

Suguru sighs, craning his neck. “I wouldn’t say he is.”

And that’s when your brother slams his palm on the table, making you jump in your seat. He leans over the two of you, eyeing the room like it’s the school cafeteria and he’s the king of prom.

And he kind of is. Today your father will officially name him his successor, so the sour look in his face makes you and Suguru share a look.

“Do you see Hideo Kojima on steroids hanging out with Nanamin? I guess next year we’ll have the Yakuza on the jazz band.”

You laugh, only half weirded out. Suguru looks up at your brother, confused.

“Who? ”

“Toji Fushiguro. ” Satoru drawls, icily amused, and your neck turns so fast Suguru worries it’ll break. “And his underling.”

Remember your intuition? Red sirens start ringing in your head, and the edges of your vision start staining in with a deep burgundy color.

What on earth is he–

“Dad invited him.” Satoru says, still not sitting down, still scanning the room with deadly eyes. You feel the urge to look around and pinpoint his exact location, but you wait for him to point with his chin. “They’ve been seeing each other. Mimosas and manicures, I heard.”

You find him across the room, several tables between you, just over the elevated candles in the middle of your table, talking with Nanami and some man you don’t recognize. 

You fight the weak but sensible urge to look away when he suddenly turns to your table and lifts his glass in your direction, like he felt the shit talking from a distance.

The room is vast, but you recognize the feeling of his eyes looking straight at you. Your brother is too occupied cursing under his breath while he mockingly lifts his glass to notice you gulping.

“You think dad’s hitting that?”

You try not to gag. “You’re sick.”

“Cause someone will owe me a loooot of money if that’s the case.” he taunts. You both placed a bet on whether your father is bisexual or not years ago. “Look at him, standing there like he’s threatening to swipe all the fertile wives in the room. Freak.”

You snort. A bit of your goes down the wrong pipe, Suguru helpfully pats your back.

“You better hold on to yours then.”

“Nah, he’s locked in. Ain’t cha , babes?”

You roll your eyes, feeling Suguru shake his head with a lovesick smirk. Your brother replies with a wink, lazily dropping his weight on the chair next to you, like you need to be in the middle of all that.

You lean back, stretching your neck and stranding up. “Ok, you can back up a little. It’s embarrassing enough to be matching with you.”

Satoru stretches his arm over your now empty seat. They’ve been purposefully keeping a distance, him and Suguru, people assume it’s for appearances' sake, but you know them better than that. They’re playing some game tonight, and you’d rather pluck out your lashes one by one than learn the details.

“And I distinctly remember asking you to stop feeding into those fucked up theories online about me terrorizing you as a child, but you had to take those creepy family portraits with the heads cut off. We don’t always get what we want, sis.”

And don’t you know that. Tonight was stressing enough without 6’ something with a lip scar, ever so subtly following with his eyes as you make your way around the party. Not too obvious for an outsider to notice, but just enough to make the exposed hairs at the back of your neck stand up.

You’re a little too energized. Like too many shots of espresso and Ritalin after an allnighter.

It makes no sense to start feeling threatened by Toji Fushiguro tonight, when he’s in your territory, but you do. 

But you weren’t raised under the same roof as Gojo Shinobu and Gojo Satoru to be so easily intimidated, so you mingle, let people stop you for quick, boring catch ups and questions about being excited about your brother and what-have-you-been-up -tos, even those whose faces or names you can’t recall.

You smile, entertain and even ask people about their whereabouts, until you’re out of social battery for the rest of the season.

“Took you long enough.” you say, making a point of not looking at him.

His voice comes closer than you expected or feel sane about. Smooth and dark, in through your left ear.

“Patience is a virtue, haven’t you heard?”

His presence is more unnerving than you geared up for, and just like the first time, a shiver cuts through you. Something urges you to move and take a step sideways, out of the magnetic pull around him. 

You finally take him in. Tailored tuxedo, slightly tousled black hair that you know for a fact is unfairly soft, exuding confidence. Never in your life had you encountered someone as infuriating and intoxicating as him.

“So, are you my new stepdaddy?”

A slap to his face would’ve stunned him less. Hell, he might’ve enjoyed it. You don’t give him a chance. His pants have no business getting tighter from that fucking question. Toji buffers again.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

He hums, hands in his pockets.

“Depends.”

You tilt your head.

“You into that kind of thing?”

You scoff, dismissive as always, but suspiciously purse your lips to one side before taking a sip of your drink. Perhaps gatekeeping a chuckle.

Head held high, nose up in the air. Toji takes your profile in. The light bouncing off the high points of your face, the deliberate, doll-like curl of your lashes, the soft slope of your neck and the dips and curves of your shoulders. Your dress painted a nice image in his head of your body from afar, so he refrains from going past your collarbones like the honorable man that he is.

“What? No backtalk? I’m disappointed.”

“I didn’t expect to see you any time soon.”

“Like I said, patience is a virtue.”

You roll your eyes and laugh dismissively. “You don’t believe that.”

“Bold assumption.” he counters. “I wanted to see how long you’d last entertaining guests, but then your right eye started twitching and I suppose took some pity on you.”

“Aren’t you an empath.”

“Even to those who don’t deserve it.”

Your chin quivers, but you keep the smile to yourself with a quick sigh. Toji could look down at the way your chest rises and drops, but he’s not in a rush here. 

“Why are you here?”

“Is that any way to speak to a guest? I’m sure Shinobu raised you better than that.”

Name dropping your father gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“Why are you here?” you repeat, enunciating slowly, but the words you want to say are don't fuck with me right now.

But you’re too precious for him to deny himself the pleasure. Not when your eyebrows tremble like that. 

“Your father was kind enough to invite me. It would’ve been rude to turn him down.”

“You’re not here to entertain him. He’s stepping down soon and you can’t stand him.”

“Doesn’t mean that I don’t respect him. Why else would I waste a perfectly nice friday night surrounded by a bunch of suck ups? Are you suggesting I have some ulterior motive?”

Your squint at him, like you don’t believe he has the guts to say it.

“Did you perhaps assume I’m here for… you?”

Toji wonders if your silence has anything to do with the white haired manchild looking your way for the second time.

“We do have something to settle. You owe me something, if I remember correctly.” 

“I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Nice try. An explanation, does that ring any bells?” 

Your head snaps up to him, the wisps of hair hanging from the sides of your face flow with the movement. The tip of your nose and your cupid’s bow catch the light, if he couldn’t see your face this close he’d mistake that for sweat. 

He’s reminded of how you looked at the deck in contrast to the sight of you right now. A sheer layer of sweat was covering your skin, your plump thighs spilling on the wood surface, he'd kept his hands in his phone and held on to his own sanity.

“What is there to explain? Nothing happened.”

Toji tilts his head. “Lying is a bad, bad thing,” 

“We didn’t do anything, Fushiguro.” you insist, lowering your voice. Toji looks over your head, bored with your attempts at gaslighting. “If you–”

“You wanna dance?” 

The nonchalant act drops, you unconsciously lean back and open your mouth like there’s not enough air in the room. Toji smiles at your hesitation, cold and challenging.

“It’s in your best interest.”

“How?”

“Because the old cunt that kept kissing your hand earlier is coming our way and I’m about to leave you alone with him” he lies and you don’t dare look over your shoulder to check, not wanting to risk making eye contact with the slimmy fucker.

It’s a bad idea. Being near Toji is a bad idea, dancing with him is the equivalent of putting on a vest bomb. Your father is somewhere in the room and your brother might act aloof but not a single interaction of his interest is going unnoticed. 

Putting your hand in his is a bad, bad idea. The worst. But you suspect figuring out Toji Fushiguro’s intentions will take some compromise on your part, so you don’t hesitate when you grab his hand.

With his arm around you, he's reminded of a particularly striking dream he had about you days ago. The first thing he did when he woke up from it was open his app notes and write two words, perverse angel.

Now he knows it was actually deja vu; you close your eyes for a bit, the breathing image of reminiscing. This isn’t your first time in his arms.

The melody gets rather slow. You hold yourself with all the poise of a reluctant little heiress, defiant but serene as you look at him, arm resting over his.

While he’s growing quite fond of the sight of your neck exposed, he’d rather find the main pin and let your hair down. Let you get comfortable, not taut like you are in his hold.

“You look like a tall pint of guinness.”

Toji could do this all night. Just watch your expression drop, annoyance pinch at your temples.

One ankle betrays you, but he’s not about to let that happen. The arm around your waist keeps you steady, moving along with him. His grip is firm, but not overpowering.

“You’re an asshole.” You say like you just discovered it tonight.

He’s right. You know it and you hate that he described it so right. You’re dressed in a black, sleek and form fitting dress that goes down to your ankles and the top is made of an off-shoulder white band that wraps around your shoulders.

Toji laughs with that shark grin of his, his scar stretching. 

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” He adds helpfully, hand coming up to straighten the white fabric around your left shoulder. The air turns colder with the absence of his arm, but it returns to the spot in no time. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice, granted, but it’s a lovely dress. Perfect for a night at the pub, watching the game with the boys.”

“I think I’ll pass on the unsolicited fashion advice, thanks.”

“Come on. You can never go wrong with a red dress.” he counters, eyes dropping briefly. You wrinkle your nose, he takes offense. “What?”

“Not my style” you shrug.

“Now that’s just tragic.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure to wear one to your funeral.”

The couples closest to you turn with different looks of controlled distaste. Toji laughs heartily, head thrown back and everything. 

“I’ll hold you to that. I might just return just to see it with my own eyes.”

“Not sure doors open both ways in hell, but hey, more power to you.” 

“So you wanna hear my theory?”

You sigh. “Nothing happened, Toji. I mean it.”

What a terrible liar you are.

“I think you had a little alcohol in you, were fresh off a fight with your boyfriend, and just couldn’t help yourself because you have a thing for problems.”

You nod sarcastically. “And of course, you’re the problem in question.”

“Well, yes.” he blinks. “And also, you don’t have half the self control you believe you have. So you freaked out and put me to sleep to stop yourself from doing something you thought you might regret.”

This is how it was. You had forgotten the rush, despite replaying time and time again your past conversations. Interacting with Toji Fushiguro is like playing five finger fillet, thrilling and grueling and high risk, but it’s a whole other thing with people around you. You can’t let up, all your senses need to be on guard.

“Aren’t you too old to be throwing a fit because I gave you more than you could handle?”

Toji’s eyes dig into yours, a hint of amusement and something else.

“Here’s a piece of advice: choose your words very, very carefully. They might come back to haunt you. ”

“It never happened. And it won’t.” You repeat with a cool tone. The pulse on your wrist drums against his own. 

“I have to say, you’re a better actress than he is.” he mentions. “But denial does not suit you. We’re gonna have to do something about that or things will get very awkward real soon.”

“Actually I think we should focus on your rejection issues first.”

“I’m not a problem for you to solve, sweetheart.” he chuckles darkly, eyes knowing, never leaving yours.

Years of practicing the art of bullshitting in your household could not help you deny the fact that you're maddeningly, disturbingly attracted to him.

“What you see is what you get. And you could, if you stopped being a little coward.”

He makes you turn effortlessly, that’s when you see him. Hiroki. The words die on your lips, your stomach drops, all resolve wavers. He releases you and your arms hang limp on your sides.

He licks his scar and smirks sideways at you, eyes twinkling. You could push him off the roof of the building.

“You should fix your face, angel, ‘cause I won’t behave if he wants to pick a fight.” 

You’ve always liked Nanami Kento. He’s one of your father’s closest, youngest and less... spineless advisors, the pathological victim of your brother's pestering, and always impeccably polite to you, sweet even.

But right now, when he’s introducing Toji Fushiguro and his friend whose name you didn't catch to Suguru and Hiroki, you’d love to hit him in the head with a hammer.

At least your brother is nowhere to be seen.

"Pleasure to meet you." Suguru says.

Hiroki has his arm around your waist. He's not looking at you. You know what the dimpling of his cheeks mean. 

“We’ve met before actually, haven’t we?” Toji turns to him, brow burying into his face like he’s not too sure, shaking his finger in the air. “Correct me if I’m wrong. I don’t remember too well.”

Your heart is stuck in your neck, threatening to crawl out of your mouth. Suguru gives you an odd look.

“We have.” You don’t see the look on Hiroki’s face when he replies, but his tone is controlled.

“Yeah, I thought so.” 

Shiu Kong says something, and Suguru responds another thing. It's all noise to you. 

You grab a drink from a passing tray and the corner of Toji’s mouth tilts, his attention on Suguru’s conversation. You feel irrationally mad, like slapping him, but then he’d probably fix his jaw and look at you like you should've gone rougher and–

There’s something seriously wrong with you. Officially.

You grab Hiroki’s hand and pull him with you.

He’s confused, but follows you nonetheless. “Can you just wait for a–”

“We should ditch the party.” You tell him, but he doesn’t agree like he usually would and grabs your arm, stopping you at once, brown eyes searching yours.

“You’re not even gonna ask why I’m here?”

“My dad invited you?” you reply, confused by the offended look on his face.

“No. Why would he? You know how I feel about this kind of thing.”

Now you’re confused. You smell his breath and notice his flushed cheeks. “But you’re here.”

“Wow. Try to contain the excitement, why don’t you.” he scoffs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fly across continents and interrupt whatever the hell that wa–”

He’s starting to raise his voice, drawing attention, usually composed demeanor nowhere to be seen. You catch a whiff of alcohol on his breath.

“You’ve been drinking.”

His face drops. The volatile look in his eyes is not something you can deal with tonight.

You’re forever grateful for the woman announcing your father’s speech. Hiroki’s expression clears up, but he gives you a look that says you’ll resume the conversation later, soon, tonight. 

Then he pulls you to his side and leads you closer to the podium.

Your father looks into the crowd with piercing blue eyes. You, like you have for the past few months, have a bad feeling. Like if you were to take a picture right now, it would later be displayed as the moment before hell broke loose.

“... And as many of you know, the time has come for me to step back and allow a new generation to lead us forward."

The crowd hangs on his every word. You scan the room for the 10th time, looking for a head full of white hair.

Hiroki notices your unease and looks down at you, rubbing your arm. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t see Satoru.”

Your father continues, voice unwavering. 

"It is with great confidence and optimism that I announce my successor, a person who embodies the values and vision of our company." 

You finally find Satoru at the back, he’s with Suguru and Nanami. Waving his arms around him, hair a mess, pissed.

"Please join me in welcoming our future CEO, Noritoshi Kamo."

The room bursts into applause, but before his words can fully register in your mind, a sudden, sharp crack echoes through. For a split second collective confusion takes over, and then it turns to full blown panic.

You watch your father duck under the podium. Your legs move on their own.

Gunshots.

People are running, crawling and diving for cover all around. Tables are overturned, glass shatters. It's all white noise.

"Get down!" someone shouts. 

Something slams into you.

Toji picks you up from the ground. Exit located, going for it.

“My dad," you protest with wide eyes, hastily trying to look over your shoulder. Toji has half a mind to throw you over his shoulder.

“He’s fine.” he assures, hand covering your head, pushing it down.

Security sprung into action in no time at the first gunshot, formed a barrier around your father and hurried him down the stage. Toji saw it with his own eyes right before he caught you running like a tweaking baby reindeer, right before some piece of shit shoved you to the ground.

You keep protesting, resisting, trying to go in the opposite direction, so Toji has no choice but to lift you up and thrown you over his shoulder.

A colorful string of panicked and enraged expletives follow. You’re livid, fists slamming into his back without mercy. Toji pays no mind, pushing through the crowd, making his way to the emergency exit.

He doesn't put you down until you're both alone in the emptiness of some sterile corridor. And you're still rambling.

“Shut up for a second, will you?"

That does it. You're flabbergasted, opening your mouth again in full Karen fashion.

Toji doesn’t care for it. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” you reply furiously, fist tight on your sides. You catch your breath, step down from your heels and start to speed walk down the corridor. “I have to find my father– I need to– Satoru–”

“They’re safe.” Toji catches up to you in two or three long steps. “Gojo’s security doesn’t fuck around. I mean– yeah, they did fuck up letting a guy bring a gun inside the premises, but they were quick with it.”

Your nostrils flare. Toji hears voices at the corner and pushes you behind him. He sees a couple of guys in black in the reflection of a fire extinguisher cabinet. Dressed in black, wired ears, walking like they know they might lose their jobs tonight.

“Hey, I got the heiress here. She’s looking for her old man.”

They escort you both, eyes hopeful, looking at you like you're their ticket out of unemployment. Your father and his people are gathered in some conference room one floor above. The altercation can be heard from outside. 

“It’s for the best. You're too out of it to see it now, but you will.”

The room is packed. Your father, his disciples, your brother and his boyfriend, a very uncomfortable looking couple of cops. A woman approaches you, asking you if you're ok, but your eyes and attention at stuck on your father and your brother dueling for the whole room to see.

Your brother stops his pacing and turns to face Shinobu. 

“No, that's not it. I see it, I see you. You’re too prideful to let me clean up after you.”

Getting caught in a family brawl was not in Toji’s plans tonight, but he stays put, watching you approach them with confusion all over your face. They don’t seem to notice you. 

Gojo Shinobu levels his son with warning eyes, finger pointed at him. “Watch your words, Satoru. You don’t know what you’re talking about. My decision is final.”

He turns around, beckons the woman who approached you to him, but your brother is not done.

“You know I can do it." he says, your father stops and turns to him with death in his eyes and his lips pressed into a thin line. "You know I can. You just can’t stand the thought of me succeeding where you fucking failed.” 

The look on your face says it all, you don’t know what your brother is talking about, and that you’re in no headspace to ask either. Satoru's not just pushing the limits, he just sped past them.

The words hit your father square in the chest. 

Things are about to get bloody.

“You’re nothing but a spoiled, entitled brat who thinks he deserves everything handed to him on a silver platter. Look at what you’ve made of your life, acting like everything is a fucking game. You think I’ll let someone like you lead what I spent my life building?”

You turn to him, mouth falling open. “Jesus christ, dad.”

“Over my dead fucking body.”

Your brother’s face contorts in rage. He -predictably and unpredictably at the same time- lunges forward, fist aimed at your father’s face.

The room springs into action. Your father's guard dogs, the cops, Nanami Kento, you beat them all to it, but it’s ultimately Toji who gets to him.

In another situation, Toji would've found a comfortable seat for himself, perhaps a drink, and watch the havoc unfold. Let the son champion the decade long cause of union workers, environmental hippies, human rights, consumer advocacy activists alike, and punch the lights out of his father's smug face.

Then he'd spare no details for Shiu over a nice dinner.

But he grabs Gojo Satoru's arm instead, stopping him mid swing.

Blue, crazy and uncanny eyes land on him.

As a general rule, he avoids getting involved in other people's affairs, especially when it comes to love spats or family drama. However, when he says, 

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later.” 

He means it.

Your father chuckles dismissively.

Your brother watches as he walks away, chest heaving up and down. 

“Toru?”

Surely those two syllables did not come from you. If denial did not suit you, this uncertainty is just disturbing. It’s not right.

“What was that?” The question comes from the depths of your throat, voice nothing like Toji has heard before. 

“Not now.” your brother snaps, turning around and walking out. Geto Suguru on his side.

Toji’s phone starts ringing, he tries to shake off the unsettling image of you before walking out of the room to answer.

It's Shiu. He's waiting outside, watching the police drag the gunman into a car, and wondering where he is. Toji sighs, comes to terms with the fact that he's on a streak of sorts tonight, because once again, against his own code, he tells him Shiu to leave without him, not answering any questions about his whereabouts. 

People have dispersed with your father gone from the scene. Toji walks back inside, pocketing his phone, and finds you by a corner of the room. Your boyfriend has found you again, fuck knows where the came from.

He's pulling his phone out, ready to call Shiu and tell him he's on his way down, but you're shaking your head, running your hand through your hair like you forgot it's pulled back.

Hiroki gets in front of you when you try to walk away. You put your hands between you, like the last thing you need is someone coming close. You must've just said something nasty, hit a tender spot, because he freezes where he stands.

Toji drops his arm.

Once again you try to walk around him, but this time Hiroki gets a hold of your arms.

“Why?” he asks. You’re looking at him like he grew a second head. “We talked about it all the time, we always said–”

Toji's wandered close enough to catch your reply.

“What do you mean why? Have you lost your mind? I can’t leave Satoru alone right now, Hiroki.”

“In case you didn’t notice he just fucking left you here.” he snaps at you. 

You flinch. Recoil. Push against his hold.

“Let go. I’m sorry but I can’t deal with you tonight.”

“You can’t? Right. You can’t. Tell me something, do you have any idea what kind of shit I’ve had to put up with–”

You snarl at him, baring your teeth, bare feet stomping on the carpeted floor. Hiroki doesn’t even sway with your attempts, or flinch at the near animalistic way you look at him. 

“I fucking don’t. And I don’t want to know. I didn’t ask you to be here tonight.”  you reply, tone vicious, jaw locked. “You don’t get to hold it against me.”

The next thing Hiroki says pours out of his mouth like it’s a known fact, or an acceptable thing to say to the woman you’re going to marry. 

“They don’t give a shit about you. You know that.”

By now, you two have caught Kento Nanami's attention. He wraps up whatever he's discussing with a couple of men and approaches the scene.

Hiroki does not let up, it's easy to see that he will not. He fixes his grip like you'll turn to liquid and spill between his fingers if he gets distracted.

You wince.

Toji walks over with four or five committed strides until he's between you two. The abrupt interruption and breach of personal space startles Hiroki, gives you the chance to step back.

“I think that’s enough.”

“Well, this is just great.”

Hiroki chortles, looking away like he’s collecting his thoughts. Biting his lips in contemplation. Nodding to himself once or twice. Toji regards him coldly, lets him gather his thoughts, or the guts to attempt something idiotic like, who knows, get himself pummeled to the ground.

“You know, I keep seeing you everywhere lately, why is that?”

Toji shrugs, uninterested and unintimidated. Hiroki won't get his face cut even if he deserves it, and it's not that Toji's against the idea of being a vessel for some sort of long time coming retribution. In fact, he'd be doing it just for his own satisfaction.

But the night should end now. He’s gonna have a hard time forgetting how you looked earlier when your moron of a brother stormed past you and left you standing there, in the middle of a room full of people that did not care about you, heels hanging from your hand, shoulders sagging.

Doesn’t mean he’s not gonna give the boy something to pop a vein about.

“Why don’t you take a guess, hm?”

Something snaps behind Hiroki's eyes. Toji's front row this time, and he confirms everything he suspected about him. 

And he makes his mind up.

Hiroki looks at you, lids heavy, ears red. “Are you fucking him?”

How predictable. Toji looks at you over his shoulder, and somehow, you understand. It's barely noticeable, but you shake your head.

“You have to leave.” you sound a lot more like yourself this time. Only tired. Really exhausted. Like your feet are about to give out under you. Toji's not blind to the way you’ve been putting all your weight on one foot.

Hiroki pauses, realization lands on him that you’re talking to him, and not Toji.

“Get on a plane, fly back to Spain, and stay there for as long as you have to.”

“This is fucking unbelievable.” 

“I disagree. Have a safe flight.”

Hiroki stomps out, shoulders past unfazed Nanami Kento, who looks at him like he’s a speck of dust. He approaches you, asks you if you're ok.

You ask about your dad, he tells you he’s currently talking to the police and insists on getting you a car and someone to accompany you. Says you should rest.

“I can take her home.” Toji says. You peer at him like that's the last thing you were expecting to hear, and then you nod.

Nanami watches Toji carefully, studying him intently. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Keep me posted?”

His features soften just a bit, he touches your shoulder, promises he will.

He doesn’t keep his eyes off Toji until you two make it to the door. Toji might find the guy agreeable, stick up his ass and all.

[r-is-typing]

peter | s.r

summary: in which love didn't outlast the challenges of time

requested?: no!

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

category: angst

content warnings: honestly just hardcore angst (sorry)

word count: 1k

based on 'peter' by taylor swift

The year was 1994. The sweltering heat in Las Vegas beat down on the quiet neighborhood. Two children stood in front of a white picket fence.

"Do you really have to go?" The young girl looked at her best friend with a frown. The pair was twelve, having to say goodbye. "I'll come back." The boy said, voice full of promises. The girl's breath hitched, looking towards their mother's who watched the childrens exchange.

"You'll keep in touch." Another promise. Y/N nods, the naivety of it all not dawning on her. She knew Spencer had to go. Caltech wanted him. He'd be stupid to turn down such an amazing opportunity and Spencer Reid was anything but stupid.

I thought it was just goodbye for now.

Y/N sighed, hugging her best friend tightly as they whispered promises to eachother. "This isn't goodbye. I'll be back. We'll write each other. It only takes 6 days approximately for letters to go from here in Las Vegas to Caltech." Her friend was too smart for his own good. No wonder he was starting college at the ripe age of thirteen.

You said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

Y/N stood with her mother, tears swimming in her eyes. "I'll come back, okay?" Spencer comforted the girl one last time. "Okay." The girl nods, hugging him tightly, memorizing everything about him she can before it's too late.

Words from the mouths of babes; promises, oceans deep.

Before his mother and father pack his entire life into a car and drive to Caltech. Before he starts a new life. Before Spencer Reid forgot about her. Before promises were broken.

But never to keep. Oh, never to keep.

"Happy birthday to you!" The voices of her friends droned on like background noise as Y/N stared at her cake. The '22' candle staring at her. Here she was, working two jobs to pay for community college all while her childhood best friend had just joied the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit.

The next few years go by quick, but somehow slow at the same time. She thinks often of him and what he's doing as the time goes on. Did he think of her like she thinks of him? Does he even remember her?

Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer.

Now, Y/N turns 25. Spencer is now a well-known agent in the FBI, numerous PhD's. Again, she isn't surprised. She knew from the moment she met him at seven that he'd be brilliant.

I've heard great things, Peter.

One day, while working a shift at the diner she worked nights at, the bell rings. Her eyes dart up, ready to welcome the customers. She freezes. She hasn't seen him in years, but *she knew.*

"Hi."

You said you were gonna grow up

Spencer stood in front of her, of course looking older than she had seen him last at thirteen. Her eyes studied him, unable to move from her position. She studied the outfit he wore. The button up, the watch turned inwards, the gun in the holster at his hip. It was her Spencer, but grown.

Then, you were gonna come find me.

"I, uh, got this address from your mom." He says. She looks up at him, snapping out of the trance she was in. "I promised I'd come back, didn't I? I know it's been a long-"

"Twelve years."

Her abruptness makes Spencer cringe. He knew exactly how long it had been, but hearing her say it was a huge slap to the face. "I'm sorry." He pleads, but it's no use.

"I love you."

Twelve years ago, those words coming out of his mouth would've made the girl giddy inside, but now? She sets the coffee pot down and looks back at him.

And I won't confess that I've waited.

She scoffs softly. "You can't be serious." Y/N shakes her head, averting her eyes. "It's true." Spencer swears. Y/N steps closer to him. "You seriously think after twelve years I'm just going to let you swoop in like nothing ever happened?"

But I let the lamp burn.

"I waited for you. Days, weeks, months, years." Y/N says. She shakes her head, thinking about what to say to him next. She thinks about her past relationships, how they weren't him. Every person, Y/N pictured him, compared them to him. Y/N wished Spencer would come back, taking her away from it all like he promised all those years ago.

As the men masqueraded, I'd hope you'd return.

"And, finally, I got it through my head you weren't coming back." She spoke, her voice on the verge of breaking down at any moment. Y/N looked at him. "I stopped planning that fairytale reunion a long time ago, Spencer. I gave up hope that you'd ever come back."

And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired.

"I'm sorry that you came all this way, Spencer." Y/N says, standing in front of him now, her hands resting in the pockets of her sweater. "And I'm sorry that I couldn't wait thirteen years for you to realize you loved me like I loved you."

Forgive me, Peter. Please know that I tried to hold on to the days where you were mine.

"I'm not a naive little girl anymore, Spencer." Y/N says. She lifts her hands out of her pockets to grab a cup from the counter and that's when he sees it. The glimmering rock shines in his eyes as it hits the light. How could someone so smart miss something so obvious?

But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light.

Spencer stares at the ring on her finger. "You're..." His head nods down in front of him and her eyes follow. She nods. "I am." She mutters. "I couldn't keep waiting. I had to move on sometime."

Spencer nods, understanding but upset. "I'm sorry." was all he could say. She looked at him with a tight-lipped smile. "I know." If only Spencer didn't make her a bunch of empty promises when they were younger, maybe it would've ended differently.

Promises, oceans deep; but never to keep.

r is typing...

so, yeah! i haven't written in months so hopefully this is my redemption! i hope you all enjoyed. sorry about my hiatus! i nearly cried writing this haha. i've been obsessed with this song for ages so it oly seemed necessary to make my first post back something based off of this song!

as always, check my masterlist here, leave me a request or say hello here, and join the taglist here!

all the love!

r is signing off...

taglist: @liltimmyst @elsiebishh @psychosociogentleman @louderfortheback @conniesanchor @cynbx

[circeyoru]

Surprise, Surprise, I’m Here to Watch = Requested

[Hazbin Hotel x 3 Powers Granted!Reader]

Did you think it was possible? No way. Did you embrace it? Oh yes baby

That random lamp you ordered off the internet to fill your cart to get some discount was not garbage. 3 wishes. Anything. Oh, you didn’t want immortality, no, living is a pain. Wealth, you’re not putting a target on your back. Perfect health, that’s like immortality, so no. More wishes, come on, don’t think you can lie your way with this. Don’t be greedy

“First one. Power to travel between universe, and I mean that as in non-fiction and fictional worlds. Second one. Shapeshifting powers, like I don’t want the pain that comes along as well if you can. Third one. Uhhh. Perfect stealth? Like no one will be able to know I’m here until I let them.”

“Are you sure you want to use all your wishes in one-go? I’ll be gone once it’s granted.” The genie blinked at the swiftness. Usually people would think forever or save them up for extreme cases

“Yeah, yeah, hurry up and grant me my wishes. I don’t imagine you like to entertain me for long anyways.” You waved the genie off and in a poof and a snap (should have been “A wap! Bam! Boom! Alakazam!”) you were granted those exact powers

Now being a hardcore shut-in addicted to all things fiction, you tested out your powers first to see if you were dreaming. Then you trained yourself a bit with them and tested their limits. In the meantime, you debated on which universe to go to officially. “Has to be Hazbin Hotel.”

You were obsessed, like majorly obsessed with the show. The moment news came about season 1, you prepared yourself and watched them first thing! You watched more than once, having to remember the lines and songs by heart. Nothing beats watching it unfold in real life or fiction life

Maybe it was because you were kind to the genie (being quick about your wishes) that when you traveled to other universes, time in the real world, your world stops until you’re back. You thanked the genie mentally and honest feel a bit guilty that you shooed them off so quickly. But you’ll make it up with fully using your powers

You figured out everything, a demon and angel form (check the ask) and when to go. You did like Lucifer’s entrance to the show. So why not episode 5? You snapped your fingers, opening a portal before you. You closed your eyes to imagine your demon form, a ring appeared over the top of your head and travelled down, shifting your form to what you pleased. Then you got your bag with your phone and charger and you were ready!

You activated your stealth before entering. Like some fanfiction written about the environment, it was that horrid. If you were in human form, you think you’d die like not even pass out but straight up die from inhaling whatever was in the air. You don’t think any human can survive a second here

Like when traveling to other universes, you weren’t where you wanted and have to travel around. You went straight for the Happy (Hazbin) Hotel, noting the various shops and demons around you, taking out your phone, you recorded your way to mark down locations since this was no longer a fictional place the moment you entered

While you shapeshifted into a demon, you can die. Your body acted on the laws of your world no matter where you went. Your powers of shapeshifting gave you the physiology of a demon and maybe some common powers that other demons have. That was if you traveled to this world first, during your testing period, you went to other worlds and ended up with other powers, though they can’t compare to the ones the genie granted you, it was still power. You can confidentially say you weren’t human anymore

Humming with interest, you climbed into the hotel lobby through an open window so as not to alert the demons inside. Well, you didn’t even need to when you saw everyone preparing for Lucifer’s arrival. You looked up to see Alastor’s annoyed look as he observed the situation in silence. Everything was on track

Delightfully, you recorded everything on your phone, keeping quiet as best you could. Even more excited when you found out that Alastor could be captured on your phone. You followed the plotlines as it was intended, but you have to say witnessing Alastor threaten Husk into silence was more terrifying than you thought. You almost dropped your phone from your shaking hands

You were tempted to help Husk, but you decided against it and went to where Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer would be. You watched everything for there onwards. Since that balcony would be the perfect place to record Alastor’s Radio Demon show. But you made it down in time to see Lucifer agreeing to get that meeting with Heaven

Before you followed the couple to Heaven, since there was time, you lazed around town without your stealth active. You had the pleasure of testing your demonic powers and appearance. Sinners and demons alike were hooked, you happily showed them not to mess with you. Soon rumours came about saying a mysterious demon was cruelly killing any that dares to address you. Perhaps you should have kept things on the down low

That little hiccup didn’t stop you from following Charlie and Vaggie to Heaven, you went as far as to appear angelic with another form to travel around without your stealth. It was safer in Heaven after all. You having more wings allowed you easy access to the courthouse as well, you seated gracefully among the other angels and watched the scene untold like the script

You noticed the angelic beings near you start to eye you questionably as you recorded the scene below you without a care, even giggling and chuckling at some moment like you were watching a show. Thing is, it was a show, they all were characters of another’s creation and they didn’t even know it! Your odd actions were nothing compared to the drama happening

Proved that you were only noticed officially when the song came to its end and your giggles were heard out and clear. Your wings fluttered as you stood in front of Charlie and Vaggie, the two smaller wings by the side of your head covering your face

You elegantlly mocked aloud, targeting at Adam and Lute. “I always wondered why angels were given a free pass to everything, including the use of unholy words like a demon and committing action like a demon. Perhaps,” Your smaller wings parted for your golden eyes to stare and glare at Adam, “You are the one that belonged in Hell instead of that poor soul.”

Enraged, Adam sent you three back to Hell with the threat that he’d attack the hotel first. Your wings hid your face again the moment you three were back in the hotel lobby. As Charlie remember you being sent to Hell with them, she turned to you to apologize, only to find you in demon form. Her eyes confused as you turned to look at her. “No harm done, princess. I was never a soul in that place anyways. I had to say something to that piece of work known as the first man.”

Using their shocked and confused moment, you actived your stealth before they could question you anything else. You was fun to watch them fret over your disappearance like you were a child and they a parent, you stuck around since the battle was drawing closer. You’d follow the plotline to go into Charlie’s room, but she needed her privacy and you only went when Vaggie did

Later on, you went with Charlie to Cannibal Town. You wanted to see Rosie! The lovely demon that only officially made her debut much later. You had to record the song as well, though you missed Camilla’s sadly. You also took note of the VoxTech drone that watched the scene, you couldn’t help but shot it out of the sky with a rock

When the battle happened, you were away from Alastor in the beginning and helped out behind the scenes, shooting down exterminators that breached the ‘front line’ or threatened to harm/kill Rosie’s people. You (for the first time) didn’t record a moment since it was intense and you didn’t want to accidentally die or get hurt

You nudged Niffty in Adam’s direction when it was sprouting nonsense that you want jump out your skin for. Then you recorded the stab moment. A scene that many loved after the episode was aired. There was another that you watched, Lucifer’s comment before his and Adam’s ‘fight’ began. You honestly couldn’t hold yourself and laughed like you did when you rewatched the episode so many times

Then you were moving in the speed of light to record their final song. Even going to Alastor’s destroyed tower to get his part. And you rushed back to to hotel later to get the rest of it. You had one hell of a leg work and accidentially dropped your stealth due to tiredness

“You’re that demon that was angel but not!” You heard Angel’s voice shouted and saw his four arms pointed at you.

“Yeah, I have a name, so…” You trailed off, wanting to not be in the spotlight, you’re honestly scared to be involve because the later seasons were not released and you didn’t want anything to be affected. “Bye?”

“No way! We’re celebrating with us!” Charlie quickly wrapped her arm to hook one of yours, Vaggie followed and stood on your other side as her girlfriend continued, “Don’t think I didn’t notice some exterminators falling and dying for no reason!”

Yeah, people saying Charlie was more powerful than she led on was right on the money, even in that chaotic scene she noticed your involvement

You sighed and gave in, no turning back now, “Fine. Fine. I guess I deserve some celebration too.”

Note: I’ll be completely honest, this one, I had no idea how to write. Plus it was different from what I usually write. This is more like a Reader Insert than anything. Hope you enjoyed it though!

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

Taglist: (requested individual)

@no1sillybilly

[twoa-plus]

it’s 2:00am and this is more of a character thing than a genuine theory but *claps hands for the drama* same coin theory. what if both of the stans are bill

or like. a parallel to him. like i said this isn’t a super serious theory i’m mostly just back on my character analysis bs lol

so i haven’t gotten to talk abt this much but i am a firm believer in that there is not a superior stan. from a personality perspective this is obviously entirely subjective, but i mean that there isn’t a superior one when it comes to their objective traits and how useful they are

ford is. ford. i don’t really have to say anything here he’s super smart can play the piano or whatever etc etc. however one thing that i will say that i think is important here is that i am like. 99% sure this man has a higher tolerance to The Horrors than other humans do. dude spent 30 years in that portal and came out pretty much the same level of crazy, and we all saw what happened to fiddleford. i know fidds saw bill take off his exoskeleton or whatever but u can’t convince me that ford traveled the multiverse - with all sorts of monsters and non-3d dimensions and god knows what else - for 3 decades and didn’t see some shit that would make anybody else lose it. like at this point u could tell me this guy could have a casual conversation over tea with cthulu and be fine and i’d believe u

as for stan - and i mean this in the absolute best way possible i love this guy - he’s like the world’s most charismatic cockroach. he’s fantastic with people and just straight up refuses to die. for the first point i don’t just mean this in the conman way, when it comes to the people that actually matter stan always manages to win them over in some way or another (soos, wendy, the kids, ford, etc) and one does not simply survive for a decade on the street without needing the occasional favor from someone who actually likes you. “oh but rico-“ man when u’ve been living as a homeless criminal for a decade and the list of people that want to kill u consists of 1 person and the government u’ve done pretty damn well. anyways as for the cockroach point, he’s alive and has his memories. i don’t even have to say much here stan went through all of That, lived through the series itself including The Literal Apocalypse, metaphorically (something something people are just a collage of their life experiences) died at the end of it all and then came back to life. that’s hardcore as hell man. in a less literal interpretation of the “refusing to die” bit, he’s also just. insanely determined. the biggest example is ofc him never graduating highschool and yet teaching himself god knows how much math and science and whatnot over the course of 30 damn years because he just refuses to believe that he can’t save his brother. stan pines is a force of nature i swear

[additional note while im already ranting about this guy, im not a personal believer in the “stan is just as (academically) smart as ford” theory. first of all i feel like this entire theory is kind of rooted in the idea that he has to be/be on the same level as “the smart one” to have value, which is an idea that the stans’ entire backstory is based around criticizing, and i think stan has something just as if not more valuable than freakish intelligence - raw fucking grit. he wasn’t the one to open the portal back up because of some intellectual advantage, he was the one to open the portal back up because he wanted to, god damn it, and best of luck to you if you’re gonna try and stop him.]

anyways as for the same coin thing, everybody knows the stan part. his casual references to the impending apocalypse, “you’ve been buying gold, right?”, him being such a good conman, etc etc. while i’m already ranting about stan’s determination, bill’s got that too - he’s been trying for like thousands of years to take over the world and he just Won’t Stop. point is there’s a lot of character traits they share

(i know in the original same coin post a pretty major point is stan not making a deal with bill, but i think that could probably be pretty easily explained without the need for divine intervention. the only times bill makes a deal with someone without them summoning him first is after he’s kind of left on a loose end with gideon, and everyone knows stan wouldn’t fall for his lies in the first place)

bill also shares a lot of traits with ford, though. both have some kind of physical anomaly (bill’s eye & ford’s hands), both can see/understand things others of their species can’t, they’re both egomaniacs (listen i love ford but the guy has issues), etc. u could even argue that, at least at the time they meet, they have some kind of connection through their loneliness

so. with the theory of “bill was reincarnated to make up for what he did,” what if it wasn’t just stan? what if he was split in two, and his “reincarnation” is both of them? they’re flawed enough to make it a lot harder for either of them to take over the world (ford’s lack of social skills & stan’s lack of freakish academic knowledge), and they have something bill doesn’t - each other.

bill is alone. that’s his whole problem. he killed everyone he loved, treats everyone new he meets like shit, and now he’s Like That. throughout it all, the one thing the stans have always had - even if it was just in their memory - is each other. “oh but ford-“ shhhh. shhshhshshshhsh. shut up. ford has Problems but i genuinely don’t think he ever stopped loving stan. love is weird, first of all, and secondly he clearly never stopped trusting him. no matter what he might say about stan being a liar or a conman or whatever, who’s the one person he goes to when he’s forced to admit he needs help? ford is a weird guy and has an… odd way of showing it but he loves his family just like the rest of the pines and i will die on this hill

i’ve been writing this for over an hour straight and i think my brain is melting but i’m sure at this point u get the idea. both of the stans, together, serve as a parallel to bill, and the one thing they have that he doesn’t is love. that’s what killed him.

something something killing an interdimensional dream demon with the power of friendship and this gun i found