#sorry for bringing code into this but in my defense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ncsdlr · 5 days ago

Text

Misclick (Or: How I Accidentally Called My Ex While Looking for Emotional Closure)

Ex!Billie Eilish x Ex!Reader

A/N: the first section is based on real life😃🔫 the following sections are entirely made up

A/N: also, to the person i was talking to in the first section, I'm sorry for immortalizing this painfully embarrassing moment in our life and turning it into fanfic💀

A/N: also the last section is what I wish we did- what I wish we could have discussed. only SOME of that section is fiction.

A/N: idk if she's seeing this, but if you are, hi, Im over our break up, but the love is still here

Warning: ANGST

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

In your defense, you weren’t stalking. You were researching. There’s a difference.

The breakup was still fresh—like, cry-while-brushing-your-teeth fresh. You and Billie hadn’t spoken since the split a couple days ago. Not out of malice, just... mutually assured emotional destruction. You were both going through it. Both pretending not to look at each other’s Instagram stories with your brightness turned all the way down like that made it morally neutral.

And yet, here you were. Two days post-breakup. Alone. Unhinged. Emotionally backed up.

You were doing something extremely healthy and productive—scrolling through your old messages with Billie to find the last time she said she loved you. For closure. Obviously. Not to screenshot it and zoom in on the punctuation like it held some secret code. Definitely not that.

You were wrist-deep in the chat archive—somewhere between “I miss you” and that cursed selfie where you looked like a malnourished Victorian child—when a notification from her friend popped up.

You tried to swipe it away. Really, you tried.

Instead… your thumb slipped. You tapped.

And suddenly, your phone was dialing Billie. Billie. Fucking Billie. The Billie you were actively mourning like a recently deceased houseplant. The Billie you had just been virtually ghost-digging up like you were the gay Indiana Jones of emotional trauma.

The screen rang once. Twice.

Your soul left your body at Mach 5. Your heart physically detached and crawled under the bed.

You panic-slammed the red button like your life depended on it. Which, emotionally speaking, it absolutely did.

Call ended. Damage? Irreversible.

You stared at the screen, breathing like you’d just sprinted through the airport in a romcom, only instead of stopping her from boarding the plane, you just committed social suicide.

In your panicked state, you type down an explanation for the accidental call. It makes you type faster when you see that Billie has your chat open. This is the fastest you've ever typed anything.

You: "Dude im so sorry i didnt mean to wtfff" "Notifications made my phone lad and I clicked your chat the hell"

When chat indicators popped up, you swiped you thumb frantically to exit the chat. For what? You have no idea.

Billie: "its okay lol"

You opened the chat again, continuing your frantic explanation: "Bro😭" "Screaming crying rn tf" "lemme just go omg💀"

Billie: "hahaha you're fine"

And then... somehow, you just kept talking.

No more explanations. No “wtf was that.” No tension. No ice to break. The texts just kept coming—back and forth, casual, like nothing happened. Like you hadn’t just accidentally FaceTimed your ex mid-mental breakdown. Like this wasn’t the first time you’d spoken since the breakup. Like things were fine.

You kept expecting it to stop. For her to say “anyway” and vanish. Or for you to remember your dignity and put your phone down.

But neither of you did.

It wasn’t deep. Nothing emotional. Just… small things. Dumb things. Things that didn’t make sense to say, but somehow did.

And the strangest part? It didn’t feel weird until you realized it should’ve felt weird.

You sat there, blinking at the screen like: “Are we just gonna ignore the fact that I tried to speedrun dying of embarrassment five minutes ago?”

But Billie didn’t mention the call again. You didn’t bring it up either. The silence around it is somehow louder than if you had.

And now you were just… texting her. Casually. Effortlessly. Like muscle memory. Like your thumbs had been waiting for this the whole time since the breakup. Like no time had passed at all.

You kept rereading the last message she sent. Not because it meant anything. But because it existed. Because it happened. And that was somehow enough.

****

It’s not a date. It’s not closure. It’s not even emotional masochism.

It’s just two people deciding—very casually, very “sure why not”—to go out.

You meet Billie at some middle ground neither of you suggest but both somehow agree on. It’s not your place. It’s not hers. The location is symbolic in its neutralness. A coffee shop, a bookstore, maybe a quiet park. Somewhere with enough noise to fill the silence.

She’s already there when you arrive, sitting with her hood up like she’s trying not to be seen, even though you’re pretty sure she wants you to see her first. You sit. You don’t hug. You don’t talk about the call.

It’s not awkward. It’s just… quiet.

You talk about stupid things. Music. A dog walking by in a sweater. Some viral video you both saw. It feels normal in a way that feels fake, but not painful.

You both laugh at something neither of you will remember tomorrow.

And there’s a moment—brief, barely-there—when she says something and looks at you too long. The kind of look that, a few weeks ago, would’ve meant everything. Now it just lingers between you like fog. Present, but untouchable.

There’s nothing romantic about this. Nothing tender. Just two people, trying.

Not exes. Not friends. Not what you were, or what you almost were.

Just people.

The coffee Billie ordered looked like it could kill someone. Triple shot, something with oat milk, and a dangerous amount of cinnamon on top like she's daring her heart to keep up.

“You drink that, you’re gonna astral project,” you say, squinting at it.

She grins over the rim. “Perfect. Maybe I’ll finally leave this hellish plane of existence and become someone’s sleep paralysis demon.”

“You already are.”

“Ouch,” she says, mock-offended. “That’s crazy coming from someone who called me mid-scroll spiral just to breathe into the mic like a haunted voicemail.”

You groan, dramatic and long. “We said we weren’t bringing that up.”

“Correction,” she says, stirring her murder latte. “You said that. I made no such promise.”

You flick a sugar packet at her. She dodges it like a gremlin, proud.

It’s easy. Too easy. You’re both sitting there, bouncing off each other like nothing’s weird. Like the weight of your history isn’t pressed between the two coffee cups, trying to stay relevant.

“Remember when you said I looked like a ‘very fashionable Muppet’ that one time?”

She snorts. “You did. That fuzzy green sweater? Be fr. Miss Piggy would’ve worn it to the Met Gala.”

“It was chartreuse!”

“Chartreuse is not a personality.”

“Okay, says the girl who once wore leather pants to a picnic.”

“You mean the leather pants?” she asks, looking entirely too proud of herself. “The ones that made your friend text you, ‘damn I didn’t know Billie was packing like that’?”

Your soul tries to exit your body again.

“God, why do you still remember that?”

“Because it haunts me. And because I live for your humiliation.”

She’s leaning back now, one leg hooked under her on the bench, sipping her drink like this is the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it is. Maybe it always was.

You stretch out your legs and sigh like someone twice your age. “This is weird.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You mean... this?”

You wave vaguely between the two of you. “This. Us. Not being anything. But also not being not-anything. Just... people.”

Billie considers that. Then shrugs.

“Yeah,” she says. “But like... funny people.”

You squint at her, unimpressed. “You think you’re funny?”

She pauses mid-sip like she’s been personally insulted. “Babe. I’m hilarious.”

You snort. “You are so not.”

“Excuse me?” she gasps, clutching her chest like you just called her untalented and unvaccinated. “Are you forgetting the time I made your cousin laugh so hard she snorted rice out of her nose?”

“She was laughing at me, actually. Because you tried to do a British accent and somehow ended up sounding like a French minion.”

“Okay wow,” she says, shaking her head. “Fake news. I was doing Shakespearean Cockney. It was a bit.”

“You sounded like a Victorian chimney sweep possessed by Lumière.”

She sets her cup down, tilts her head, and grins in that way she used to when she was plotting something. “You’re just mad because you know I’m funnier than you.”

You scoff. "You wish,” you fire back.

“You laugh at everything I say.”

“Because I’m nice and polite.”

She leans forward, eyes glittering. “You laugh like you’re trying to impress me.”

You open your mouth to respond—and realize you don’t have one. Not a real one, anyway. Not one that doesn’t give something away.

She sees it. Of course she does. And she smirks.

“See?” she says softly, smug. “Told you.”

You look away, pretending to be exasperated, and roll your eyes. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling because she's right. “Shut up.”

She just shrugs, takes another sip of her drink, and says nothing else.

But her grin stays, stifling what could turn into a full-blown laugh. And so does yours.

****

You’re walking side by side down the street now, Billie’s iced coffee long gone and your stomach sore from laughing at nothing. It feels almost stupid how natural it is, like your body forgot you’re not supposed to move in rhythm with hers anymore.

At one point, she bumps your shoulder with hers and says, “I’m still funnier than you.”

You scoff. “Delusional.”

“Charming and funny,” she says, with a mock-bow. “A full package.”

“Oh my god.”

“You didn’t seem to think that when you were—”

You whip your head toward her so fast she actually flinches from the wind. “Nope. No, ma’am. Do not finish that sentence.”

Her grin is wicked. “Why not? I was just going to say crying at my stand-up set. Obviously.”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s not where you were going and you know it.”

She shrugs. “I’m just saying. You were very… vocal with your compliments.”

“I will literally throw myself into oncoming traffic.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m ashamed.”

She laughs—loud, head back, real. And god. You forgot how much you missed that sound. How safe it made everything feel.

You don’t say anything. She doesn’t either. But something shifts in the silence that follows. Neither of you name it.

****

You’re on Billie’s couch, legs tucked under yourself, a half-eaten bag of chips between you. She’s scrolling through some streaming app like it’s a life-or-death decision.

“This one has a 98% on Rotten Tomatoes,” she says.

“It also looks like it was made for sad white men who write film essays on Tumblr.”

She clicks it anyway.

It’s not a good movie. It's barely even a movie. It’s one of those indie slow-burns where nothing really happens, but everything’s a metaphor for loneliness. Of course it’s the one you’re watching.

About thirty minutes in, your knees are touching. Then your shoulder. Then Billie shifts just enough that your thighs are lined up. She doesn’t move away.

Neither do you.

You don’t look at her. You don’t say anything.

But a few minutes later, her hand is resting against your calf—soft, light, like she forgot it was there.

And then, slowly, her fingers find your hair. She starts playing with it absently. Familiar. Absent-minded. Like this is just what you do.

Your breath catches, just slightly. Not enough for her to notice. You don’t move.

She keeps twirling a strand.

You don’t look at each other. The movie plays on, pretending you aren’t unraveling.

She shifts slightly, but her hand stays on you.

“You used to say I was too blunt,” she murmurs.

“You were.”

“You said I made you feel small, sometimes.”

You pause. “You did.”

There’s a quiet beat. Not defensive. Just still.

“You’d call me dramatic whenever I brought something up. Or overthinking. Or too sensitive.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” you say. And you do. But that doesn’t erase the sting. “But you still said it.”

She nods, almost to herself. “You always wanted to talk about things. Everything had layers with you.”

You look at her then. “Everything has layers. You just didn’t like looking at them.”

Billie goes quiet. Her fingers still, just for a moment, in your hair.

“I didn’t get it,” she admits. “Half the stuff you brought up—gender, labels, politics… it just felt like too much. Like everything had to be a cause.”

You smile. It's not unkind. But it isn't soft either. “It was too much—for you.”

She meets your eyes then, and there’s something like apology in her face. But not regret. Not quite.

“I felt like I had to shrink to be next to you,” you continue. “Like I had to sand down the sharp parts so I didn’t set you off. I was always editing myself.”

Billie doesn’t argue. She doesn’t explain.

She just says, “I know.”

And that somehow hurts more.

You still love her. Deeply. Undeniably. But you love yourself now too. And you know exactly which love you're not willing to compromise again.

You don’t know why you’re still talking. Maybe because it’s finally quiet enough to. Maybe because your body still remembers how to confess things in her presence.

You shift on the couch, turning toward her just slightly—just enough to see her face without really looking at it.

“I knew,” you say quietly. “Back then. I knew you didn’t really get it. Any of it.”

Billie doesn’t argue. She just watches you.

“You didn’t try to understand things that mattered to me. Or when you did, it was only after I broke down trying to explain why it mattered in the first place.”

You laugh a little, but it’s brittle. “And I still stayed.”

She looks down.

“I stayed because I loved you enough to overlook it. Or I thought I did. I thought that if I just loved you harder, louder, more patiently, eventually it’d be enough to… I don’t know. Make the other stuff not matter.”

You feel the words coming before you say them. The shape of them. The weight.

“Because I love—” Your voice catches. Just for a second. Just long enough to break.

You clear your throat, and correct yourself mid-sentence, too quickly.

“Because I loved you. Enough to ignore the parts of myself that didn’t sit right next to you.”

There it is again. That reflex. That instinct to swallow yourself whole before anyone else can do it for you.

Billie hears it. Of course she does. But she says nothing.

And somehow, the silence confirms everything.

You didn’t stop loving her. You just started loving yourself more. Or maybe for the first time at all.

Billie’s still looking at you. Or maybe through you. Like she’s watching something that already happened.

“You know what’s messed up?” she says after a moment. “I didn’t even get it at the time. Like—I knew you were hurting. I could see it. But I thought it was just... you being sensitive. You always felt things so deeply, and I thought I was allowed to stay the same and let you carry all the weight.”

You don’t respond. You don’t need to.

“I kept thinking I’d grow into it,” she continues. “Into being what you needed. That one day I’d just… wake up and suddenly know how to hold space for things I didn’t understand.”

You swallow.

“But I didn’t,” she says. “I couldn’t. I was too wrapped up in already knowing who I was and what I'm worth. And you were still only getting there. And I hated that I couldn’t meet you there. That I couldn’t give you the version of me you deserved. That I couldn't bend myself like you were bending yourself for me.”

Her voice is steady. Matter-of-fact. But you can hear the ache in the way she chooses her words.

“And by the time I realized how much I’d let slip through my hands,” she says, softer now, “you’d already started holding on to yourself instead.”

Your chest tightens.

And in that moment, everything in her expression says what she won’t say out loud:

That if she'd met you later, maybe she would’ve been ready. That if the timing had been different, maybe it would’ve worked. That maybe it wasn’t about not loving you enough. It was about not knowing how to love you right.

You want to scream. Or cry. Or laugh.

Instead, you nod.

Slow. Small. Knowing.

“I wanted you to see things from my eyes,” you say quietly. “But I let you not do that because you seemed so sure of your mind and your thoughts. And I didn't want to make you question things the way I do.”

Billie doesn’t flinch.

She just looks at you like she’s finally seeing what she missed. And this time, she doesn’t reach for your hand. She just lets you hold your own.

The silence stretches so long it stops feeling awkward and just becomes part of the furniture. Like grief, or old air.

Her hand is still in your hair. Yours is curled into the blanket, nails digging in like it might hold you together.

And then Billie says, voice low but clear:

“I loved you more when you stopped needing me.”

You don’t react at first. Because what the fuck is that even supposed to mean.

But then you get it. You know exactly what she means.

She loved the version of you who didn’t beg for her to show up. Who stopped asking for softness. Who learned to be their own safe place because she couldn’t be one.

She loved you more when it didn’t cost her anything.

And maybe that hurts her, too.

You stare straight ahead, eyes fixed on nothing.

Then, just as calmly, you say:

“And I loved you most when I realized the break-up felt like freedom."

She flinches. Not big. But enough. Enough for you to feel it.

And neither of you says another word after that.

You sit there—two people who once loved each other in all the wrong ways at all the wrong times—quiet, breathing, broken in a way that finally makes sense.

No one leaves. No one moves.

And somehow, that’s the ending.

---------------------- y'all tears were shed writing this. Also, I'm so sorry for the way I wrote billies beliefs. I know that's not how she is in real life at all, i just did it for the story to work out the way i wanted and to relate it to what happened to me and what I went through😔

#billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #billie x reader #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x female reader #sad shit #angst #no happy ending

32 notes · View notes

piplupfluffwritingstuff2 · 3 months ago

Note

Got a silly request :3

Sort of miraculous Ladybug inspired Hero. So Hero somehow gains a new superpower every few days. And then that power is exactly what they need to stop the bad guy of the week.

Just one problem... the powers are often something dumb. REALLY DUMB.

Okay Space Rabbit I hope this is all right, but I did not take this seriously at all and applied the goofiest scenario I could think of. I’m sorry it’s so short, but I hope you like it or at least get a laugh out of it! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

A Power A Day

When Hero headed out into the streets that day, they had been hoping their powers would be kinder to them. Maybe they’d finally get something basic, like water manipulation or super speed. No such luck. They stepped up to face the criminal terrorizing the city this week, a villain with so much heightened intelligence that they had invented a number of terrible gadgets.

“Well, well, Hero,” Villain purred, “here to try and stop me?”

“Do or do not, there is no try,” Hero blurted.

Hero blinked, a rush of useless trivia flooding their brain. Apparently their power of the day was becoming an expert on Star Wars!? How was that useful in any scenario outside of a Comic Con!?

There was a glint in Villain’s eye. They tilted their head, seemingly intrigued.

“Hello there?” Villain tested.

“Come here my little friend.” Hero countered.

Villain scoffed, a triumphant look on their face.

“Everyone knows the proper response is ‘General Kenobi’.”

“Actually, either response is acceptable. When stating the former the other person is meant to reply with ‘it’s an older code sir, but it checks out’. Maybe if you were a real aficionado, you would know that.”

Hero’s mind was reeling. They weren’t even a Star Wars fan! They had only seen part of the original trilogy, and maybe two episodes of one of the TV shows!

Villain set down their plasma blaster, which Hero immediately clocked as being a replica of a Stormtrooper’s. They produced a fake lightsaber hilt from their belt. They ignited it, and a red laser sprang up. Okay, so it was a real lightsaber.

“Put your money where your mouth is,” Villain sneered, “if you’re a real fan, you should be familiar with basic lightsaber combat.”

Hero rolled their eyes.

Gatekeeper, they thought, this is why I never got into the fandom.

Hero felt a weight on the side of their belt. They looked down with wide eyes, when did that get there!? They picked up their own lightsaber and ignited it. Bright blue. Nice.

“Your move.” Hero said.

Villain charged. Hero advanced right back. Somehow, they were able to block every strike from Villain, as though they had been training with the laser sword their whole life. As dangerous and ridiculous as this was, it was actually kind of fun.

Their blades of light clashed against each other, sparks flying as they fought. Hero was continuously pushing Villain back into a defensive position. Eventually, Hero had Villain pinned, their saber inches from their throat.

“Pretty good, pretty good,” Villain panted, “since when are you an expert in lightsaber combat?”

“This morning, apparently,” Hero said.

Hero went to get the cuffs from their belt. The cuffs snapped around Villain’s wrists without Hero ever touching them.

“Holy smokes, jedi are real,” Villain breathed.

“I am no jedi,” Hero replied.

Once the cops took Villain away, Hero spent the rest of the day binge-watching the entire Star Wars saga. Who knew what tomorrow’s power would bring.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Redbubble

Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm@memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit @telltaletoad @bacillusinfection @noseyowes @whump-till-ya-jump @writinglittlepains @m4iloblu3

#hero x villain #hero x villain community #heroes and villains #heroes and villains community #hero x villain snippet #as requested #star wars #miraculous ladybug #fluff #writeblr #writing #creative writing #snippet #don't gatekeep guys it isn't nice

39 notes · View notes

jjenthusee · 4 months ago

Note

I love you btw ur little Jason stories haunt my dreams (in the best way possible) anyways what do u think about those stories where Jason keeps reader a secret for as long as possible and eventually can’t anymore? My personal fav hc with those kinds of stories is that Babs comes across a picture reader posted of Jason being cute or sleepy or something to their private ig but Babs found it somehow anyways and confronts him about it

this has been one of my favorites lately! i even tried writing a small version of it in my Like The Sun writing drabble! it esp makes sense when it happens with Babs because i would think Jason may be a little lenient toward her despite how apprehensive he might sound, but it’s all because of how expressive and defensive Jason can become toward his family.

Babs is just as powerful in her technological sense, that ik Reader has a very small online presence, but Jason doesn’t prevent that and understands the risks for any of the Batfam to find out. For some reason, i would think after Babs found out he would still deny it, almost like a silent “tell anyone and ur dead (but not really)” kinda way.

Babs would get the hint but discreetly bring it up in ways that would have Jason’s ear twitch during patrol or have him running to places she “accidentally” let slip HAHA

such a fun dynamic! i think mind games would be really fun and secretly ik Babs would check up on the social media account for peace of mind for Jason since he’s so distant. It’s a comfort for her, but she doesn’t pry.

i can really understand both perspectives from Jason and Babs. It feels very teenage crush and older sibling coded. Like you tease, but at the end of the day u ain’t saying anything to the parent (Bruce). then, reluctantly, Jason is almost forced into a mutual deal set by Babs (for the thought of trying to get him to open up about himself) so she can help with keeping the relationship secret. it’s almost like an extra layer of security over the social media account HAHA (very over the top but it’s dramatic enough for them).

I’ve thought about how out of hand it could get that slowly other batfam are picking up on the VERY subtle teasing from Babs and they HAVE to know what’s going on. they see a very obnoxiously secure social account that screams Babs all over it and the mystery is opened for everyone. it could spiral, but i would hope it leads to understanding and trying to reassure Jason that Reader wouldn’t know anything about them until he says so.

sorry this went on so long (i love this trope lol), but thank u for the kind words as well! i hope my stories keep haunting your dreams lol 💐

#my lovelies #jason todd x reader #jason todd #writing #jjenthusee speaks 🤓#writing inspiration

121 notes · View notes

peachesnplums95 · 4 months ago

Text

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Shadowpeach (+ Shadowpeach being parents to MK) incorrect quotes -because my gallbladder is probably trying to kill me, and I'm in pain and bored- Round 3: GO.

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: Who thinks I can fit 15 peaches in my mouth?

MK: You’re a hazard to society

Macaque: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Macaque: Wasn't MK with you?

MK: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: Macaque and I don’t use pet names.

MK: I see. Hey, what is a fruit that starts with a p again? No, it is not a peach. It's a purple fruit.

Sun Wukong: Plum?

Macaque, appearing out of the shadows: Yes, Peaches? >: 3

Sun Wukong: >/////> MK: Don't ever lie to my face again. >: /

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: I told Macaque his ears go red when he lies.

MK: Why?

Sun Wukong: Look. Hey Macaque! Do you love me and the Kid?

Macaque, covering his six ears: No. > //// >

MK: OwO

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: If I somehow die, somehow, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited. ^_^

MK: If? :'(

Macaque: Great, the only party I’ve ever been invited to, and he actually can't even die. -_-

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

MK: You have to apologize to Macaque for killing him.

Sun Wukong: Fine. Hey BUD! Macaque: Yes?

Sun Wukong: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: Am I in trouble?

Macaque: Take a guess.

Sun Wukong: No?

Macaque: Take another guess.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: You're right, I'm sorry.

Macaque: That's... That's an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: Please, I'm begging you go to the healing sages!

Macaque, standing there with Wukong's staff stabbed through his eye: I'm sorry is this OUR staff-stab wound? Stay out of it.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

-The event that leads up to Wukong and Macaque fighting, and Mac's death-

Macaque: This is a mistake, I know we shouldn't but fuck you. We fight!

Sun Wukong, enthusiastically: Definitely a mistake we're going to laugh about one day!

Macaque: But not today.

Sun Wukong, still enthusiastic: Oh, no. Today's going to be a mess.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something.

Macaque: Wukong, you don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: Macaque, stop! Don't make me do this! This isn't you; you've gone mad with power!

Macaque: Well of course I have. Have you ever tried going mad without power? It's boring.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: I learned some very valuable lessons from trying to become immortal.

Macaque: I’m guessing they are all horrible distortions on the lessons you actually should’ve taken away.

Sun Wukong: Death isn’t real, and I’m basically God.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong, trying to apologize to Mac for killing him:

.. .----. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- [translation: I’M SORRY]

Macaque: What's that?

Sun Wukong: Remorse code.

Macaque: I'm even angrier now.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: Top 30 reasons why Sun Wukong is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you!

Macaque: Top 30 Lego show deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: We have a problem.

Macaque: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Macaque: Can you cut me some slack, Wukong? I’m sort of in love.

Sun Wukong: I’m sorry, but that’s really not my problem.

Macaque: I’m in love with you.

Sun Wukong, blushing: Oh. That brings me in the loop a little.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: I want to kiss you.

Macaque, not paying attention: What?

Sun Wukong: I said if you die, I won't miss you.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong, talking about Macaque: WHAT THE FUCK! I WAS ARGUING WITH MACAQUE, AND I SAID- “OOH YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD” AND GUESS WHAT? HE DID. HE KISSED ME. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO I DO?!

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: You are the love of my life, and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.

Macaque: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.

Sun Wukong: I said within reason, Macaque. How about I murder that guy?

Macaque: So, murder is in reason, but proper self-care isn't?

Sun Wukong: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Macaque, in Sun Wukong ’s bed: Morning your Majesty… how’d ya sleep last night, bud?

Sun Wukong, knocking Macaque off: WHAT THE HEAVENS?!

Macaque: Ow—

Sun Wukong: What were you doing in my bed? You were supposed to sleep on the air mattress on the floor!

Macaque: I had a nightmare.

Sun Wukong: You had a nightmare? What are you, a Youngling monkey?

Macaque: Listen, I needed to feel comfortable, and I was getting this perverse power dynamic vibe from me sleeping on the floor and you sleeping up there-

Sun Wukong, in a royal accent: Why yes, how high and mighty I am up on my BED!

Macaque: That is not what I meant—

Sun Wukong: Silence in the presence of your Monkey King, who sleeps a lofty twelve and a half inches above the ground!

Macaque: Listen, I’m not ashamed. I slept comfortably when I got up on your bed and I’m sure you did too.

Sun Wukong: Yeah, okay-

Macaque: You know what? I want to know. How’d you sleep last night?

Sun Wukong: …That was the best I’ve slept in a while.

Macaque, gasping: The Monkey King slept comfortably with his lowly Moon warrior in his bed!?

Sun Wukong: I did not consent to this-

Macaque, dramatically: But my liege, our love is forbidden!

Sun Wukong: Okay, I'm go to the hot springs and wash all of the you off of me.

Macaque: Oh, maybe together we could—

Sun Wukong: NO.

Macaque: Just to make sure you don't sink like a rock—

Sun Wukong: No! It's not even that DEEP!

Macaque: … point taken, but I'm still coming.

Sun Wukong: Heaven please, give me strength...

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Macaque: I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for like ages now. No response.

Sun Wukong: Wow. They sound stupid.

Macaque: But they’re not. They’re really smart, when they actually take time to think. Just dense.

Sun Wukong: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!”

Macaque: I guess you’re right. Hey Sun Wukong, I love you.

Sun Wukong: See! Just say that!

Macaque: GODS, YOU PEACH LOVING IDIOT IT'S Y-

Sun Wukong: If that flies over their head then, sorry Macaque, but they're too dumb for you.

Macaque: ... Wukong -_-

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

MK: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed. ^_^

Macaque: I'm going to tell him. >: 3

Sun Wukong: Don't you dare. >: U

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

Sun Wukong: looks at MK

Sun Wukong: Baby stone monkey. Baby.

Sun Wukong: looks at Macaque

Sun Wukong: Evil.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

MK: Why would you think any of this was a good idea?!

Sun Wukong: Probably because I’m a dangerous immortal stone monkey maniac with a long sordid history, bud.

MK: Oh…

Macaque, from across the room: I don’t understand how you keep forgetting that.

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

MK: What did Monkey King do this time?

Macaque: More like WHAT didn't Sun Wukong do this time!

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

MK: Is Macaque always like this when they lose?

Sun Wukong: Oh, yes. You should've been there for the great Journey To The West Tantrum!

Macaque: You KILLED ME, and you know it!

💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑💜🍑

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

#lego monkie kid #lmk shadowpeach #shadowpeach #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #shadowpeach lego monkie kid #blog not for minors #minors dni #lmk mk #lmk incorrect quotes #shadowpeach incorrect quotes #shadowpeach lmk #shadowpeach being mks dads #minors dont interact #minors not welcome

47 notes · View notes

xvazx · 3 months ago

Text

The Beauty of Our Chaos

Throwback - Circa 2016

Nobody prepares you for moments like this while dealing with puberty. I could be helping Miss Rosso grade yesterday’s italiano grammar quiz but instead I’m fulfilling my duties as team captain. I felt like I was about to throw up, partly from the paranoia of cargo losing our project (they didn’t), but mainly because we just made it to our first Nationals. It was the first time an all-girls Catholic school had made it this far, and Principal Mowry lectured (warned) us about bringing home at least a diploma.

We made an entrance whether we wanted to or not. The room fell silent as our team walked through the main hall, the sharp click of polished formal heels against the convention center floor breaking through the noise. Unlike the other teams dressed in hoodies, sneakers, and team T-shirts, we arrived in pressed uniforms, tights, and neatly styled hair—Miss Sutton, our tech coach at our side like a chaperone to a debutante ball. It was all part of the St. Trinity ladylike image.

Across the room, the boys from Gilman—three-time nationals competitors, and last year’s champions—swaggered in, like they had already won. Teams frolicked with chatter, some friendly and others dripping with judgment. I overheard some whispers about how “This year, we have some new babes” like it was some novelty. Of course, there were the usual sexist remarks. One girl from an elite East Coast school even spread some gossip, “I heard that the captain is a total shrew,” which quickly escalated into a full-blown discussion about how Catholic schools in California were far behind compared to their prestigious institutions.

I didn’t pay them much mind—at least, not at first. My focus was on making it alive out of this.

After the inauguration, the host invited everyone to freshen up before the first round of competition. We put on our big coats (yes, we Californians get cold) and made our way to the cafeteria for a quick meal. While enjoying our few minutes left, the inevitable question arose: Were there any cute boys?

“Ay noo, muy creidos,” I groaned. “They all look like finance bros in training.” (Noo, way too snooty.)

Mariel, my best friend, waggled her eyebrows. “There’s got to be at least one.”

We decided to head to our station early and begin setting up our project—a fully functional, intelligent Barbie Dreamhouse. As I booted up my laptop to check the code, I tested the app on my iPad, making sure each function was in place.

Across the arena, a team of boys was engrossed in their project—battle robots. They cheered as two metal machines clashed, the room filled with the sounds of scraping steel and excited shouts.

But I wasn’t watching the robots.

I was watching someone.

Curly-haired, thick eyebrows, completely focused. While his teammates hollered like cavemen, he controlled the remote with calm precision, pressing buttons with the ease of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

“Why are you staring?” Mariel asked with a teasing smile.

Without thinking, I muttered, “I’m not. I just… the robot’s noisy.”

“Uh-huh,” she teased. “Come on, let’s go over there.”

Before I could protest, Mariel pulled the fabric of my coat for me to follow her. The second we walked up, the boys quieted, some of them suddenly straightening their postures. A few gave an attempt at being suave, offering lazy greetings.

“Didn’t expect to see heels at one of these competitions,” one of them muttered.

“First impressions are important,” Mariel shot back, smiling sweetly.

The curly-haired boy, their captain, didn’t join in their jokes. Instead, he watched me curiously as I glanced at the battle robot. “Hey,” he greeted, polite but reserved. “I’m Luigi. Sorry about all the noise, we are testing the weak points.”

Mariel nudged my arm. I straightened and stopped fidgeting. “Right….I’m (Y/N). S’cool, they sound like they have decent resistance.”

He nodded. “They were designed for defensive combat—angled armor and optimized speed-to-weight ratio. Took us months to perfect.”

He explained the mechanisms with the confidence of someone who knew his work was good but wasn’t arrogant about it. Then, he turned the question to me.

“And you? What’s your project?”

“A Barbie Dreamhouse.”

“Oh.” His reaction was neutral, but his teammates weren’t as composed.

“A dollhouse for the Malibu Barbies,” one of them joked. “Is it glittery?”

I raised an eyebrow. “It’s a different approach. I wonder how many battle bots do the judges see every year?”

That shut them up for a second. But one of them, smirking, tilted his head. “So you’re the shrew.”

My jaw tightened, but I refused to let them see me flinch. “Wow,” I said dryly. “How Shakespearean.”

The curly-haired captain turned to his teammates, frowning. “Cut it out.”

They only shrugged, but I had already moved on. There was work to do.

Mariel, knowing that I had to walk it off, gave me space. “Text if you need me."

I didn’t care if they thought it was girly. What they didn’t know was that I had originally wanted to build a big prototype tidal power generator, but the girls one-upped me with the Barbie house. The project was great and I was going to defend it.

I turned back to my station, running another test. Suddenly, the miniature air conditioner inside the dollhouse stopped spinning. Pushing my hair back, I disassembled the parts, searching for the problem, when a voice interrupted me.

“Need some help?” I glanced up, Luigi stood there, hands in his pockets, watching. I exhaled. "Looks like the solder thinned out."

"Yeah," he agreed, kneeling beside me and offering the solder lead roll. "You should reinforce it."

I arched my brow. "Thanks."

He smirked slightly at my attitude but didn't comment. Instead, he studied the model. Then, turning to me with a curious expression, he asked, “Why a water setup?”

I hesitated before explaining. “It’s part of our philanthropic plan. We’re using tidal power to generate resources. We wanted to make something sustainable.”

I showed him the app we’d created to control the Dreamhouse functions, which was set up like a smart house. The house lit up, the AC flickered back to life, the smart appliances responded seamlessly with multiple variations.

He exhaled, impressed. "Actually, this is—".

"Too smart for a Malibu Barbie?" I interrupted, teasing. His lips twitched. "I was gonna say 'innovative,' but sure, let's go with that."

He scratched the back of his head. "Sorry about my teammates, by the way."

I shrugged. "To be fair, I did expect a battle robot from a Jonas Brother."

Just then, Mariel and the others came over to grab me, asking me to check out a dog robot from another team. I turned to walk with them but glanced back one last time. Luigi was still smiling from my comment.

Ugh. Stop

——

After several rounds of competition, it was time for the oral presentations. One by one, the team captains took the stage, presenting their projects with polished confidence. Their chaperones stood beside them, adding credibility with measured nods and approving smiles.

Then it was my turn.

I stepped up, adjusting the microphone. My heart pounded out of my chest, so I took a breath.

“So, um… hi,” I started, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N), representing Daughters of St. Trinity. And this—” I gestured to the screen behind me, where an image of our Barbie Dreamhouse prototype appeared—“is not what you expected to see at a tech competition.”

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd. Good.

“But here’s the thing,” I continued. “It’s more than just a Barbie Dreamhouse. Our project is about connecting natural resources with technology. The city where we’re from sits along the coastline, and we asked ourselves: What if we could harness the power of the tides to create a fully self-sustaining home?”

I clicked to the next slide. A detailed diagram of the house’s tidal power system appeared.

“This prototype is powered by a small-scale tidal energy generator, which—if applied to a real house—could significantly reduce dependency on the electrical grid. And, of course, we built an app that allows users to control everything from lighting to temperature, all while maximizing energy efficiency.”

While taking another quick breath, I glanced at the audience, scanning their faces. Most of them were attentive—some skeptical, but listening. Then my eyes met his.

Luigi was watching me intently, arms crossed, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. My stomach flipped. Ew

“This isn’t just about making something ‘girly’ smart,” I concluded. “It’s about challenging assumptions. About what innovation looks like. And if we can reimagine something as simple as a dollhouse, imagine what we can do for real homes, real cities—real change.”

A beat of silence. Then applause.

The girls grinned at me as I walked back to my seat. Mariel squeezed my hand. “That was awesome.”

I exhaled, finally allowing myself to relax.

The judges deliberated. The room was thick with anticipation. When they returned, the lead judge gave a cliche speech of ‘everyone is a winner’ and after cutting the crap he cleared his throat and announced:

….

“Second place… Gilman from Baltimore, MD.”

Luigi’s team.

The boys exchanged nods, some disappointed but still satisfied. Luigi gave a short, polite clap.

“And… first place… Daughters of St. Trinity, Santa Barbara, CA!”

We erupted into cheers and rushed forward to claim our prize—a sleek glass trophy engraved with the competition’s name.

On the podium, I turned and found Luigi beside me. He extended a hand, his expression unreadable.

“Congratulations,” he said.

I took it, giving him a firm shake.

Before I could pull away, he leaned in slightly and murmured, “You think I look like a Jonas Brother?”

Squinting my eyes I responded with a ‘a little bit’ hand gesture.

@nosebeers

hi i’m Vaz, this was just a product of my active imagination, free time and the need for a better outcome. Hope u enjoy xxx

English is not my first language, so it could sound old timey at times. (Academic English Education yaaay)

(Y/N) is mostly an original character. And some of the plot ideas come from movie references. If you are able spot them we can be friends :) Yes she can be a pick me but I promise she has a reason.

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione x y/n #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione x latina reader

29 notes · View notes

happylikeasadsong · 1 year ago

Text

carmy’s always running out of time

i just need to get this out of my head once and for all.

i don’t know if someone has already mentioned this, but time is a recurring issue for carmy this season. He often feels like he’s behind schedule or something.

watching it for the first time i didn’t notice carmy’s mention to time until i got to the syd and carmy scene in episode 9., so i decided to rewatch just to catch every time he mentions it throughout the season.

so he’s reasoning to stop smoking was time, not health. it was the means to get to the end goal (get the star, not let the team alone) he wants to stay sharp and focused and he can’t waste five minutes on a cig break. so he gets the nicotine tablets instead.

(just a side note: ijbol every time his speech was compromised by the damn tablets I couldn’t take him seriously when he was fighting to not spit that thing out. i also wanted to smack that shit out of his mouth so many times)

not smoking leaves him impatient and more sassy than ever, and I can’t help but to trace a parallel line between not smoking and his sudden bursts of anger (him telling nat to figure out the money thing and stomping out of the office)

when sugar comes in she asks him why is he doing all that for, his answer is straight forward:

we see the first glimpse of the carmy we’re gonna see for the rest of the season: impatient, anxious and snippy.

in episode 3, doors, when richie comes up with his own non-negotiables list, he gets angry and defensive that someone would try and challenge his ideas. but he doesn’t have time to explain why cause he’s running out of time. He doesn’t even want to listen, cause he’s running out of time.

in episode 5, children, uncle jimmy brings the computer to run an analysis on the restaurant finances and things aren’t looking too good, but carmy, once again, refuses to listen, he just wants to get back to work and block all noise

it gets to the point jimmy has to pull him aside cause he’s being so annoying about it.

then we have episode 7, legacy, where we have this:

this scene, once again, reinforces the idea of him always getting ahead on the next thing, never really enjoying the moment he’s in cause he has a job to do.

he barely lets sydney finishes her sentences, he already has everything mapped out in his head and thinks he doesn’t need to let her in the loop. he never slows down, is go go go time in his mind.

every second counts.

then finally, episode 9, apologies, where he apologizes to syd, he’s tired of always getting ahead, he wants to do differently:

she’s the only person he apologizes for constantly pushing for time and making her constantly having to play catch up.

as sydney states, it wasn’t a skill issue, but communication, something that she told him before and he didn’t listen. he never enjoyed the moment.

it made me think of when sydney asked him in episode 5 if he knew what he had was special when he was working under chef terry and he said he was always too busy to know it at the time.

now that he’s faced with ever closing, a place he thought it would last forever, I think he’s ready to admit that he doesn’t have to run anymore, he needs to stay in the moment.

(now this is just crack but this is so non-stop by hamilton coded lmfao

the man thinks he’s Alexander Hamilton writing the other 51 confederalist papers, assuming he’s the smartest in the room and that attitude will be his doom, sorry for the ref)

#sydcarmy #syd x carmy #sydney x carmy #the bear season 3 #alexa play non-stop by hamilton

88 notes · View notes

allthingsfangirl101 · 8 months ago

Text

Late Nights – Special Agent Timothy McGee

"We will see you two tomorrow," Gibbs said. "Don't stay too late."

"They're staying late?" DiNozzo smirked at me and McGee. "How come?"

"Vance asked Y/L/N and me to go through our computer security system," McGee explained.

"There have been some attempted hackings and the Director wants us to fill in the gaps," I added.

"So our NCIS Computer Geeks get to stay behind and code together?" He teased. "I am so sorry I cannot stay and help."

"Yeah," I scoffed. "You're Grin of Sadness gave you away."

"Have fun," DiNozzo said sing-songy as he grabbed his backpack and left.

McGee and I shared a look before turning our focus back to our computers. A few minutes later, Gibbs walked in and placed a coffee on both of our desks.

"Thanks," I smiled.

"Thanks, boss," McGee said.

"Don't stay too late," Gibbs reminded. "I still need both of you bright and early tomorrow."

We laughed as Gibbs left. Without saying anything else, McGee and I started going through our security system. About an hour later, I heard McGee sigh as he stood up and started stretching out his back.

"You okay over there?" I asked with a small laugh.

"I forget how tense my shoulders get when I'm coding."

"I keep telling you," I sighed, "when you get focused, you tense your shoulders."

"I know, I know," McGee sighed. I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle when McGee walked back to his desk and sat down with a sigh. "I can't help it," he shrugged. "It's like your scrunch face."

"My what?" I scoffed.

"When you get focused," he pointed out, "you scrunch your lips up to your nose, making this pouty-scrunch face."

I sent him an overly exaggerated scrunchy face before spinning my chair back to my desk. I went back to work but McGee didn't.

"How come we always get stuck with the overtime?"

"Probably because DiNozzo only knows how to find the naughty sites and Gibbs can barely turn his computer on," I chuckled. I smiled when McGee rolled his shoulders, trying to stretch out his back. "How about another coffee? I'm buying as long as you can hold down the fort."

"I think I got it under control," McGee chuckled as he put his hands up in defense. "As long as you bring me one back."

"You got it," I winked as I headed to the elevator.

* * * * *

The conversation was still fresh on my mind as I walked back into the squad room. I numbly walked over to McGee's desk and handed him his coffee.

"Thanks," McGee smiled as he grabbed his coffee from me. I hummed in response, not entirely having found my voice yet.

I felt his eyes on me as I walked back to my desk. I sat down and started pulling up the next level of code. I scanned through it and started patching the holes I found.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine," I said, clearing my throat. McGee stood up and walked over to my desk. He leaned against it and waited for me to tell him what was going on, but I didn't.

"Y/L/N," he elongated my last name. He jokingly started poking my face with his finger as he repeated, "Talk to me. Talk to me. Talk to me."

"Will you stop?" I sighed as I swatted his finger away. "I hate when you and DiNozzo poke my face."

"It gets you to open up when you're keeping things from us," McGee chuckled as he finally stopped poking me.

"You make it sound like I'm always keeping things from you guys," I said, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms across my chest.

"Only your feelings," McGee shrugged. "Fess up, Y/L/N. What's going on?"

"When I was getting us coffee," I sighed, slowly opening up, "I got a call from Eric."

"The boyfriend mad you're working late?" He asked gently. His small smile fell when my eyes filled with tears. "Oh," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Y/N."

"He made me choose," I said, my voice breaking.

"Choose?" McGee repeated. "Between what?"

"Work and him."

"Damn," he said under his breath.

"I love my job," I said, my voice still soft. "And I love our team. I've worked hard to get here. I'm proud of what we do. But Eric. . ."

"You don't love him?" McGee asked.

"I don't," I whispered. I put my head in my hands and let the tears fall.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," McGee said gently as he wrapped his arms around me.

"Was I a complete idiot?"

"Absolutely not," he said instantly. "You deserve someone way better than Eric. You deserve a guy who's proud of the work you do here. A guy who would be okay the few times you've had to stay late. A guy who lets you talk out a rough case."

"A guy who brings me dinner when we're working late?" I asked under my breath. We slowly pulled out of our hug, staring into each other's eyes. My voice was barely audible as I added, "A guy who always has my back?"

"A guy who would rather he got hurt than you did," McGee added. Before either one of us really knew what we were doing, we leaned in and pressed our lips together. Things slowly progressed as our lips moved in sync.

"You just broke up with Eric," McGee said as we both breathed heavily. "You should take some time to get over him, Y/N. Especially before jumping into a new relationship."

"You mean, especially before breaking Gibbs's rule #12?"

"Yeah," McGee chuckled, "before that."

#timothy mcgee imagines #timothy mcgee x reader #timothy mcgee fanfic #timothy mcgee imagine #NCIS #special agent timothy mcgee

38 notes · View notes

whatdoeseverybodywant · 2 years ago

Text

You're The Only Girl for Me- Chapter 6

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci24 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @melaninsugababy @baconeggndcheez @bemybabiibish @jstarr86 @nbanenefrmdao @purplehairgawdess @arination99 @alyyaanna @m3llowww @gomussy @jeysbae @babysyhsy @bebesobrielo @empressdede @venusesworld @harmshake @mustafumilf @theninthwonder @badbitchcentralinc @alyyaanna

Kayla Braxton stared at the latest update from an Instagram page called TheUsos_Source. She honestly couldn’t believe what she was reading. Josh took Airielle on a date? Airielle had willingly gone out on a date with Josh after everything Kayla had told her?

Kayla went to Airielle’s instagram and clicked on her story, immediately feeling sick once she saw the flowers Airielle had posted. So just fuck girl code right? Kayla gritted her teeth as she rolled her eyes and threw her phone down on the bed next to her.

December 11th 2020

AIRIELLE JONES

liked by uceyjucey, jonathanfatu, trinity_fatu and 190,000 others

AirielleJones: 🖤

view all comments

user: he's deadass liking all her pics

user: not jimmy following her now too 🫠

trinity_fatu: ❤️❤️ (liked by creator)

Airielle was on cloud nine. It had been 18 days since her first kiss with Josh while they weren’t officially boyfriend and girlfriend yet, they sure did act like it. No matter where they went, he always made sure to bring her flowers, whether they were going to the gym together or to the grocery store, he always bought flowers. She hung out with him at Trin and Jon’s house when they weren’t in Orlando for Smackdown- much to Yasmine’s dismay. He had wanted to spend Thanksgiving together but she declined. She was not ready to meet his family. She had thought that he was upset but he told her he understood and that she definitely had to come to Christmas dinner.

Airielle groaned as she hit another dead end in the arena. The WWE had moved from the Amway center to Tropicana Field and Airielle was having a hard time finding her way, she kept getting turned around. Josh had asked her to meet him in catering for lunch but she was lost. She pulled out her phone to text him. He told her to send him her location and he would come find her. She huffed as she jumped up on one of the nearby equipment boxes and pulled out her phone so she could scroll on instagram.

“Hi.” She jumped startled by the voice. “I aint mean to scare you.” He said smiling before holding out his hand to her. “I’m Raymond. I don’t think we’ve met.” When she didn’t shake his hand he added “I work in production, that’s probably why you never seen me before. I’m normally out in the truck.” Airielle nodded before grasping his hand and shaking it.

“Airielle Jones.”

“I know who you are. Talk of the town.” She frowned and arched her eyebrow at him.

“Excuse me? He looked down at their still connected hands and grinned as she snatched her hand out of his.

“Yo Rih, you good?” Airielle smiled over at Josh and hopped off the equipment box and walked over to him. Raymond noticed Josh’s hostile tone and raised his hands up defensively.

“Relax, homie. I was just introducing myself.” Josh bit the inside of his cheek as he glared over at Raymond. He 100 percent didn’t like this man and Raymond knew that. Airielle glazed between the two of them before grabbing Josh’s hand, breaking their staring contest.

“You good?” He asked again, his eyes softening once his gaze fell on her.

“She good Uce, relax.” Josh glared back over at Raymond and sucked his teeth.

“The fuck you still doin’ here?” Raymond chuckled before, turning and walking away from them. When Josh turned his attention back to Airielle she was looking at him with a disappointed expression. “Sorry” he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t like him, never did”

Airielle rolled her eyes with a grin. “Come on,” She said, grabbing his hand again. She started to walk but then stopped and turned towards him. “I don’t know where I’m going.” He laughed before leading her towards catering.

After eating lunch with Josh and Joe, Airielle decided to go to hair and make-up to get ready for Smackdown. She smiled at Kayla who was also getting her makeup done. The smile quickly vanished off of her face when Kayla glared back at her. Airielle knew that Kayla must’ve seen the instagram posts. But honestly, Airielle didn’t care, Josh and even Kayla herself had said that they weren’t dating, just fucking around, so technically Kayla had no reason to be upset with Airielle.

The air was tense and Kayla’s muttering wasn’t making it any better. Airielle couldn’t hear her but with how Jenny- the hairstylist kept looking at her, Airielle knew Kayla was talking mad shit. Once Kayla had left the area, Jenny turned towards Airielle.

“What the hell happened?” Airielle shook her head, not wanting to gossip.

“I don’t know.” Jenny scoffed.

“I mean, we all seen the instagram account. You do know Kayla and Jey were a thing before you got here?” Airielle took a deep breath and closed her eyes, this Jenny chick was starting to get on her nerves.

“They both said that it was just sex between them.” Airielle shrugged, she felt like she did nothing wrong by going out on a date with Josh.

“And you don’t feel bad?” Jenny scoffed again and Airielle narrowed her eyes at her.

“Leave the girl alone Jen, ” Laura, the make-up artist said and Airielle gave her a small smile thinking that the older woman was on her side. “She’s young and he probably tricked her.” Airielle abruptly stood up from the chair and walked off, officially done with those ladies and that conversation.

“Fuck her” Yasmine spat over the Facetime call. “That bitch lucky I aint there.” Yasmine continued. Airielle sighed but said nothing. That interaction had rubbed her the wrong way and she needed someone to talk to. She wanted to talk to Josh but she knew that he was busy getting ready for the show and she didn’t want to burden him with unnecessary drama.

“You can’t fight my coworkers.” Airielle said laughing lightly. “I mean should I feel bad?” Yasmine immediately shook her head.

“No, and I mean it, don’t go back in there trying to be her friend Airielle. She’s weird as hell.” Airielle signed and tol Yasmine that she would call her back as she was driving back to Pensacola after the show.

Walking back into the arena, Airielle felt like everyone was staring at her, it was weird she walked past a group of girls and they immediately stopped talking, letting Airielle know they were talking about her. Rolling her eyes she went about her business, getting her script for her segment with Kevin Owens, as she was walking towards the viewing area to watch the beginning of the show, Airielle literally bumped right into Kayla, the latter of the two rolling her eyes and grunting in annoyance. Airielle quickly apologized before trying to walk around her but Kayla moved in the same direction she did.

“I trusted you.” Kayla said and Airielle furrowed her eyebrows together.

“What?” Kayla rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You used me to get close to Jey, I told you how i felt about him and you just said fuck me.” Airielle scoffed.

“No, I did not use you to get close to Josh. I would never do anything like that Kayla. You said y’all weren’t together. Yes, I do feel bad but, things happen, we hung out and I really like him Kayla, I’m sorry.” Kayla huffed and narrowed her eyes at Airielle before shaking her head and walking away.

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

148 notes · View notes

st-kitten · 6 months ago

Text

brat party pt.4

pt.5

warnings: smut, degradation, unprotected sex (no creampie), piv, spanking, choking, hair pulling, slapping, sasuke being dramatically defensive

on the day sasuke’s family was leaving, you felt like an accessory more than anything else. his parents didn’t seem to mind your presence—just raised their eyebrows slightly, as if trying to figure out why their son had brought someone along for what was clearly a family affair. you ended up squeezed in the backseat of their limo, sandwiched between sasuke and itachi, trying not to overthink your pink-and-red top while the rest of them sat there looking like a perfectly coordinated fashion campaign in blue and black. you couldn’t help but wonder if they had a dress code you’d missed—or if sasuke had set you up for this.

"why did i bring her?" he muttered under his breath, shooting a sidelong glance at itachi, who regarded him calmly from the seat beside him. his older brother’s expression gave nothing away, but sasuke could sense a knowing look in those piercing gray eyes.

he turned his attention back to you, sitting there engrossed in the passing scenery, your profile a delicate outline against the tinted window.

his mother, mikoto, decided to break the silence.

“sorry, you’re stuck with us, dear,” she said, smiling politely.

you returned her smile. “i should be the one saying that...”

mikoto’s polite smile didn’t falter as she turned her attention to sasuke, her tone carrying a subtle edge of rebuke.

“sasuke-kun, please make sure y/n-chan has everything she needs during her stay. we wouldn’t want her to feel uncomfortable.” her gaze flicked to you briefly before returning to sasuke, the unspoken message loud and clear: take responsibility for your surprise guest.

sasuke bristled at the implication but bit back a retort, knowing full well that his mother’s approval was practically law in the uchiha household. “of course, mother,” he replied stiffly, shooting you a tight-lipped frown when he caught your barely concealed amusement.

"so, sasuke never told us what you’re studying," itachi said, his tone polite but curious.

you glanced at him, feeling the weight of his calm gaze. "masters in international governance and diplomacy," you replied simply.

itachi hummed in mild approval, a subtle nod acknowledging your choice. at least it wasn’t something embarrassing. sasuke, meanwhile, decided it was safest to let you handle the conversation and stayed quiet, though his silence wasn’t entirely by choice.

while he appreciated itachi’s measured interest in your academic pursuits, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of irritation at being sidelined. still, he knew better than to interrupt or risk shifting the spotlight back onto himself.

fugaku’s deep voice cut through the small talk. “what about your family?”

there it was—the thing sasuke had been equal parts dreading and fearing. his father’s habit of investigating into every detail of his life, no matter how trivial, had now extended to you.

you answered politely, keeping your tone steady. “my family is back home. my mother is an architect, and my father is a business advisor.”

sasuke sat stiffly, resisting the urge to groan. fugaku gave a small nod, his expression unreadable as he processed your answer, but sasuke could already feel the weight of his father’s silent scrutiny.

the limousine rolled to a stop before the imposing gates of the uchiha estate. sasuke stepped out first, his posture rigid and guarded as always. he glanced back at you, catching the way your eyes widened at the sheer grandeur of their ancestral home.

“welcome to uchiha manor,” he said coolly, his tone almost bored, as if the sight was nothing worth mentioning.

you followed him up the long driveway, still taking it all in. “uh... do you guys... like, own the whole country or something?” you muttered, half-joking but genuinely curious.

sasuke gave you a side glance, his lips twitching as if fighting off a smirk. “not yet.”

fugaku’s voice was firm. “sasuke, show her the manor. then join us for tea.”

sasuke inclined his head, his expression neutral as he acknowledged the order. without a word, he turned to you and gestured for you to follow him.

the polished marble floors gleamed beneath your feet, catching the warm light of the sconces lining the walls. as you walked, sasuke’s commentary was brief and clinical, more like a tour guide forced into service than someone trying to impress.

“this wing houses the family chambers and private study areas,” he said, his tone flat. “the east wing is for guests and formal receptions.”

you stopped at the base of a sweeping staircase, the banister carved with intricate gold filigree. sasuke’s fingers grazed the pattern absentmindedly as he continued, “the second floor includes more private quarters and the library. don’t get lost.”

you raised an eyebrow, half amused. “is that advice or a warning?”

his lips quirked, but only slightly. “both.”

...

"is that a fucking rembrandt?" you blurted, your jaw dropping as you stared at the painting, completely captivated.

sasuke’s gaze shifted to the portrait, his appreciation hidden behind his usual air of detachment. he gave a curt nod, his eyes scanning the canvas with a practiced discernment.

“yes. it’s one of several rare pieces in our collection. the uchihas have always been patrons of the arts, supporting and acquiring works from renowned masters throughout history.”

you turned to him, still wide-eyed. “so, what, you guys just casually have rembrandts lying around?”

he shrugged slightly. “we don’t ‘lie them around.’ they’re displayed with intention.”

he moved on to the next room.

the space was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old books and parchment. shelves lined the walls, packed with leather-bound tomes and ancient scrolls.

“this is the library,” sasuke's voice cut through the stillness. “it contains many valuable texts and historical records, documenting the uchiha clan's accomplishments.

he glanced back to see you still frozen, eyes wide as you stared at the painting like it had personally insulted you. with a resigned sigh, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you inside the library.

your eyes sparkled like a kid in a toy store. it was clear to anyone that books were your weakness. sasuke’s smirk tugged a little wider at the sight of your excitement.

he leaned against a nearby shelf, crossing his arms over his chest, watching you with a mixture of amusement and mild condescension.

sasuke continued to lead you through the sprawling manor, each room more opulent than the last. you passed through grand hallways adorned with more art and luxurious furnishings, but it wasn’t until you reached the terrace that the true scale of the uchiha estate became clear.

he stopped at a set of glass doors that opened to the large terrace, and as they swung open, a gust of salty air hit you. the terrace stretched out before you, its stone railing offering a perfect view of a sandy, grey, pebbled beach below. the waves lapped lazily at the shore, the sound distant yet soothing.

there were a few ruins on the beach. broken pillars with cravings that had faded over time. before you could ask, he said, "those are from an old structure. nothing of particular importance. just some remnants from a time before the uchiha family acquired the land"

sasuke leaned against the railing, his posture more relaxed now, as he watched you take in the view. "if you’re looking for quiet, this is about as close as it gets around here."

you took another look at the beach, the grey stones glistening faintly in the fading sunlight. "well, it’s definitely peaceful," you said softly, "but... I’m guessing you’re not a fan of the beach."

he glanced at you, his usual aloofness creeping back in. "sand," he muttered, "gets everywhere."

the seabreeze made his raven hair sway. he looked pensive. almost too pensive. you watched him for a beat, noticing the rare shift in his demeanor. it was as if the quiet of the beach had drawn something from him—something unspoken, tucked away behind the cool, detached front he always wore.

the beach seemed to draw you in, especially those ruins. something about them—ancient and mysterious—called to you, as if the weathered stones were whispering a story you weren’t meant to know yet.

you took a step closer to the edge of the terrace, your gaze fixed on the ruins, but sasuke’s voice broke through the quiet.

"after this, let's join father for tea. delays aren't... so forgiven," he said, his tone lightly laced with warning.

when sasuke saw that your focus was locked on those ruins, he grabbed your jaw, pressing a distracting kiss to your lips.

"let's not forget our manners, y/n. we have company waiting."

you bit your lip, blushing. "yep."

sasuke led you back through the manor and into the salon, a traditional japanese room with tatami mats, sliding paper doors, and a low, elegantly set hot table. the room had an old-world charm, a perfect blend of history and quiet sophistication.

fugaku’s voice broke the stillness as he looked up from his seat, offering you a polite nod. "welcome, welcome. how did you find the uchiha property?"

sasuke took a seat at the hot table, his back straight, and you followed suit, sitting beside him. you could feel his eyes on you, but you focused on fugaku instead, taking in the slightly expectant look on his face.

"oh, it's definitely an architectural marvel," you began, choosing your words carefully as you glanced around.

"the uchiha estate has been in our family for generations," fugaku explained, settling into his seat with a calm, commanding presence. "we take great care in maintaining its beauty and functionality."

you nodded, absorbing the weight of his words, then your gaze flicked back toward the library. "and i think the library might be the true monument," you mused, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of your tea cup. "i noticed you have The Complete Poems of Catullus by ovid. that’s a rarity."

fugaku’s eyebrows raised, mildly surprised. "you’re familiar with it?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of curiosity.

you smiled, a bit proud of yourself. "i’ve always had an interest in classical literature. it’s one of those books you don’t often find outside of very well-curated collections."

sasuke, who had been silently observing the exchange, suddenly shot you a look—something between grim and shocked. his expression almost seemed to say, when did you manage to memorise the books in there?

"and where do your inclinations lie?"

fugaku asked you, clearly aiming for a character assessment. you could practically hear the "tell me everything about you" in his voice.

"well," you began, "i indulge in everything that fascinates me, but i admit, i’m a bit biased towards languages."

fugaku nodded approvingly, like he was checking off a box. "the uchiha clan has always placed great emphasis on mastering the subtle nuances of language, particularly when it comes to negotiation and manipulation."

there it was again—the uchiha clan. jesus, this guy could probably work it into casual conversation. 'did you know the uchiha clan invented breakfast? we’re that good.’

you figured that little snippet about the "uchiha clan" was probably meant to scare most guests away.

"a little machiavellianism never disappoints, yeah?" you said, sipping the hot tea offered to you.

"do you believe honesty is always the best policy, or do you think there’s a time and place for calculated deceit?" fugaku asked.

sasuke’s face morphed into an expression that was a mix between horrified and, well, suicidal. what the fuck was this conversation? OVER TEA?

sipping the tea served to you, you put on your sweetest smile and agreed with fugaku's words. "a spoonful of sugar makes honesty easier to swallow," you said, your tone saccharine and completely unbothered.

and why were you enabling him? thought sasuke. he wanted nothing but to drown in his teacup. till the bubbles stopped.

fugaku, for the first time in ages, looked at his son, sasuke, with a glint of approval and pride in his eyes, like he’d just discovered sasuke had an acceptable taste in friends. at least for the "uchiha clan."

sasuke, ever the stoic, held back any outward signs of emotion, but you could see it—just barely—a flicker of something beneath his calm exterior. deep down, his inner child felt... validated, as if this moment, despite the weird conversation and intense tea time, was some strange win for him.

fugaku looked at you with an air of expectation. "i trust my son is a good comrade to you," he asked, his voice calm but carrying a certain weight.

sasuke tensed at the question. he knew exactly what his father was implying. he’d been a mean, cold bastard to most people, and to you? well, he had been more or less a casual hookup with a mild, alien thing for that he kept hidden behind walls.

but to his surprise, you responded to fugaku's question genuinely. "it's difficult to find a friend in seniors at college," you said, your voice clear and sincere, "but i’m glad i found one in him."

sasuke's grip on his cup tightened slightly, but his expression remained unchanged. what the hell was happening?

a part of him wanted to correct your perception, to reveal the harsh reality behind his aloof exterior, but he held back. it wasn't the time or place for that, and deep down, he knew you wouldn't understand it anyway.

fugaku nodded, clearly pleased with your answer. he threw another approving glance at sasuke, this time even more pointed. that was twice in just a few minutes. never had his father been so expressive with approval—especially not toward sasuke.

sasuke felt a strange mix of irritation and... something else. his inner child, the one who had never been good enough in his father's eyes, wanted more. it was almost like a craving for validation he’d pushed aside for years.

he realised, in that quiet moment, that just by having you there, in his house, things had already changed. the balance had shifted slightly. he wasn’t just the aloof, distant son anymore. no, now he was... well, something else in the eyes of his father. and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

as if you could sense sasuke’s quiet desperation, you patted his hand on his lap affectionately, a small, almost reassuring gesture. but before he could react, you pulled away, turning your attention back to your cup, sipping the tea with a casual air, as if nothing had happened.

sasuke blinked, caught off guard for a second, but his expression remained carefully neutral. he wasn’t sure if that was comfort or mockery, but either way, it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t used to.

mikoto, ever the gracious hostess, interrupted the moment with a soft, almost apologetic tone. "sorry for my intrusion, but y/n-chan, your eyelashes are so pretty. and long! may i see them?"

you gladly obliged, leaning slightly toward her and closing your eyes so she could inspect them.

"waouw! truly beautiful!" mikoto exclaimed, her voice warm with genuine admiration.

you smiled and thanked her, returning the compliment about her appearance too. mikoto blushed and accepted the compliment, making sasuke acutely aware of the intimate setting between the one woman he held dear in life, and the other he'd been inexplicably attracted to in proximity. that made severely anxious. too soon. too fucking soon.

itachi, as observant as ever, raised an eyebrow. "your features aren’t japanese. where are you from exactly?" he asked, his tone casual yet probing. even fugaku seemed to take interest.

you replied with calm confidence, "i'm from india."

fugaku nodded thoughtfully. "a rapidly developing nation indeed. that must mean you practice indian religions."

jesus, sasuke thought to himself, his eyes narrowing slightly. is he going to do a whole profile on her right now?

you took a sip of your tea, clearly unfazed by fugaku’s assumption, and answered, your voice steady and clear. "well, india is home to more than one religion. hinduism, which is the flagship religion, the one i follow. then islam, buddhism, jainism, sikhism. the epistemology goes on and on."

you paused, meeting fugaku’s eyes. "i like to think of mine as a way of life rather than a religion."

sasuke simply listened, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of his cup. he’d seen his father ask countless questions over the years, but this... this felt different. his world of cold formalities had just collided with yours in a way he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around.

fugaku's expression shifted, and for once, there was a glint of genuine approval in his eyes. "fascinating," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "i approve of your resolve to find your own meaning."

sasuke almost choked on his tea. his father—the man who’d never been anything but critical, harsh, and stoic—openly approving something you said? what. sorcery. was. this.

sasuke's mind began to spin. a mild, stationary anxiety attack crept up on him, and for a few moments, he zoned out entirely.

his surroundings blurred—his father's approving gaze, your calm demeanor, even the soft clink of tea cups—everything faded into the background. the only thing he could focus on was the tight knot in his chest, the rising tension that had nowhere to go.

why is this happening? he thought, a strange feeling of vulnerability washing over him. his father never approved of anything he did. and now, here he was, praising someone else—someone who, in his mind, shouldn't even matter this much.

but of course, it did. and that only made it worse.

when sasuke snapped back to his senses, the conversation had shifted entirely.

you were now talking to itachi, with fugaku listening intently.

"but shouldn't our names be pronounced as they are without change? they are proper nouns after all," itachi mused, his tone thoughtful.

you nodded, sipping the last of your tea. "true as it may be, every language has its own phonemic inventory. so sounds that exist in one language may not exist in another. so, in such a case, you can't expect speakers of the other language to articulate the sounds of your language."

fugaku nodded, his eyes sharpening as if he understood the deeper layers of the conversation.

"look at japanese itself," you continued. "in your phonemic inventory, you have syllable-based sounds. but even certain romanic sounds don't exist. like 'ta,' 'te,' 'to'—but 'chi,' 'tsu'—and not 'ti' and 'tu.' they're not phonetic defects, just products of articulatory evolution from old japanese. they occur in different tactical environments, making them individual phonemes."

itachi nodded, a subtle spark of understanding flickering in his gaze.

sasuke, on the other hand, was lost. he didn't even understand what a fucking phoneme meant, and he wasn’t sure if it was safe to ask. so he just stared blankly, nodding along like he got it. he didn't, but he figured it was just something smart people talked about.

fugaku's voice was calm but assertive, "i believe you are right. one cannot declare claim over languages. one must accept them as they are. one must—"

you, without missing a beat, finished his sentence,"—let one's purism go."

truly unheard of in the uchiha household. most people couldn't even keep up with fugaku's sharp, rapid-fire thinking, let alone predict his next words. even itachi, who had mastered the art of unreadable expression, let out a soft, barely audible gasp.

and then, it happened.

fugaku, after a brief, stunned pause, did something no one at that table thought they'd ever see: he smiled.

a real, unguarded smile.

you'd spoken so casually, as if you hadn't just pulled off the most shocking move of the day.

sasuke's jaw dropped a fraction. was that—did that just happen?

thinking it was best to leave fugaku in that mood, the tea hour wrapped itself.

sasuke, still processing what had just happened, silently led you to the guest room you'd be staying in.

the room was, as expected, gorgeous. plush bedding, soft lighting, the kind of luxury that made you feel like you were in a high-end hotel, but with more family legacy sprinkled in.

sasuke stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the room. then, as if on instinct, he opened his mouth to say something—almost as if he were about to ask you the million-dollar question. but he didn't.

he left you to unpack and settle in.

at dinner, the conversation was minimal, but surprisingly, nobody sulked. the clink of cutlery against plates filled the gaps in between bites, and for once, you found yourself appreciating the quiet, even if the occasional glance from sasuke made you wonder if he was still thinking about that smile. was it really that rare? you wondered.

as itachi and fugaku smoked cigars outside on the patio, the evening air filled with their quiet conversations, sasuke lingered nearby, his eyes scanning the distant horizon.

fugaku’s voice broke through the calm, stern as ever. "i did not expect you to bring company this year." his tone was calculated, and for a moment, sasuke almost braced for a scolding.

but it didn’t come.

sasuke bit back the urge to snap at his father. engaging in a heated argument with fugaku was futile; he knew better. instead, he chose his words carefully, trying to placate the situation without losing his edge. "i deemed it necessary to extend hospitality to her, father," he said coolly, hoping the formality would keep things in check.

fugaku gave him a long, steady look, then took a slow drag from his cigar. "i never said i disproved," he muttered, his voice deep with an edge of something unreadable. he shifted his gaze to sasuke. "she is no fool, sasuke. that girl is smarter than she looks."

sasuke's brow furrowed slightly at that, but he said nothing, letting the words hang in the air.

fugaku exhaled a puff of smoke, then continued with a rare hint of approval, "and that is precisely the kind of people the uchiha acknowledge."

sasuke blinked, and for a moment, the air felt charged. his father, the man who hardly ever showed his approval, had just given it... for you, someone he'd only met once briefly.

seeing sasuke’s rigid and tensed figure, fugaku let out a long, controlled sigh. "needless to say, with... 'friendships', i trust your taste," he said calmly, taking another drag from his cigar, as though the whole conversation had just been a casual afterthought.

sasuke’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise. a concession? the flicker of intrigue that crossed his face was brief, but it was enough to make him reconsider his usual wariness. did his father... just compliment him?

for a moment, sasuke considered pressing for clarification. was this a rare show of approval? did fugaku mean something else entirely? but the old uchiha’s enigmatic nature made him hesitate. no, better not to push it.

sasuke had learned over the years that if his father even remotely bestowed a good word on him, he was going to take it. he simply nodded, masking any trace of surprise behind his usual cool exterior.

------

later that night, after you'd settled into the guest room, the soft hum of the house settled into a quiet stillness. you'd stepped out of a much needed shower, a thick white towel wrapped around your body, your hair slightly damp, curling even further.

meanwhile, sasuke had quietly slipped into the guest room, his footsteps barely a whisper on the thick carpet.

"boo," his deep voice whispered, low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine as you spun around, nearly socking his jaw, but he easily caught your wrist.

"jesus... you have all the subtlety of a hand grenade," you said, panting, sitting up in bed as you blinked in disbelief.

sasuke’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous spark at your startled reaction, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. he knew full well that his sudden appearance had caught you off guard.

sasuke reached out and gently tugged the towel loose, allowing it to slide down your body and pool at your feet. his hands skimmed over your bare skin, tracing the curves of your hips and waist before coming to rest on your shoulders, his arms lazily hung over, hands locked behind your neck.

"didn’t think you'd be this... enthusiastic to see me," he remarked, his voice a mix of amusement and sarcasm.

you looked up at him, a small smirk curling at your lips. "look at you. fornicating with the guest," you teased, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

a low chuckle rumbled in sasuke’s chest at your cheeky remark, the sound low and almost dangerous.

"careful now," he warned, his voice dropping into a seductive purr. "insulting the host could lead to... unpleasant consequences."

without waiting for a response, sasuke claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving past your lips to tangle with yours in a passionate duel. you let out a breathy moan and kissed him back, letting your hands travel up his chest. he wrapped his arms around your hips, cupping your ass and lifting you off the ground as he walked backwards towards the bed, never breaking your heated kiss.

sasuke laid you down gently, his body covering yours as he continued to ravage your mouth with unbridled passion. his hands roamed over your curves, exploring every inch of skin he could reach, mapping out the contours of your body with reverent fingertips.

he took of his shirt and you marvelled at his chiselled body, his abs, even the faint scars.

feeling your eyes on him, sasuke's confidence grew, and he allowed himself a small, cocky grin. slowly, deliberately, he reached for the fastenings of his pants, undoing them with practiced ease. ss the fabric fell away, his boxers followed suit, exposing his hardened length to your hungry stare.

now in his territory, the esteemed uchiha manor, he wanted to assert his dominance. he wanted to test how submissive you could be. because of course.

"on your knees," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. loving his eagerness, you did as such, getting down on the floor, on your knees.

"suck" he instructed, his tone brooking no argument.

you rolled your eyes.

and a sharp slap echoed through the room, your cheek stinging, silencing your insolence instantly. the same hand gently caressed your reddened cheek, oh what irony.

you hadn't expected him to do that. but fuck if you weren't turned on. sasuke raised an eyebrow, not expecting you to be turned on his slap.

his large hand cradled the back of your head, guiding your mouth towards his rigid member once more, letting your taste the precum beading at the tip. the expectant look in his eyes left no doubt about what he demanded – total obedience, and nothing less. you took his head in your mouth, coating it with your saliva, letting your tongue run up and down his slit, and around his tip.

sasuke breathed heavily, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided your movements, urging you to take him deeper, your tongue flattened beneath the underside of his dick.

you took him in deeper. to fuel his need to dominate, you locked your own arms behind your back, and sucked his dick with your mouth, bobbing your head, doe eyes looking up at him.

jesus. sasuke wanted nothing more than to solder that sight into his mind. his thrusts grew more forceful, his hips pumping upward to meet your bobbing head. the lewd sounds of slurping and gagging filled the air as he used your mouth mercilessly, driven by an insatiable need to claim and conquer.

"cheap whore" he whispered, his head tilting back as the pleasure augmented. "my whore"

his breath hitched at the vulnerable, pleading expression on your face, your wide, trusting eyes locking onto his as he ruthlessly claimed your mouth. the dichotomy between your innocent appearance and the depraved act unfolding was intensely arousing. were you always this shameless? fucking perverse? so fucking...

"perfect," he hissed as he kept fucking your mouth.

sasuke's grip on your hair tightened, pulling your head back to deepen the angle of penetration. he relished the gagging noises you made, the way your body struggled against the intrusion, the tears that began to well in your eyes.

as the first wave of his orgasm hit, sasuke snarled, his vision blurring as he erupted deep within your convulsing throat. jet after jet of scorching seed pumped into you. he continued to pump his half-hard cock through the aftershocks, ensuring every last drop coated your tongue and the back of your throat. only when he was completely drained did he finally allow you to pull back, gasping for air.

you whined softly as you swallowed. seeing his cum drip down your lips was fucking erotic. sasuke couldn't resist pulling out his phone to snap a picture of you, the flash accentuating your hazy appearance, specks of white glistening on your swollen lips. a photo just for him. meant only for his eyes.

sasuke's gaze lingered on your ravaged features, a twisted sense of admiration mixing with the residual lust. he couldn't deny the thrill of dominating someone so willingly, so completely. it was intoxicating, addictive – a high he intended to repeat with his delectable little plaything.

hastily, he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you up, tossing you back into bed, pinning your wrists above your head, looming on top of you, his gaze intense; a silent promise of further degradation and pleasure.

sasuke leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered. "i'll break you, remake you, mould you into the perfect, submissive slut. and you'll thank me for it, won't you, whore?"

mind blank, you just whimpered a series of 'yes'.

a sadistic smirk played on his lips as he read the submission in your response. he ground his hips against yours, the hard length of his erection pressing insistently into your soft flesh.

"good girl," he praised, his tone dripping with condescension.

he flipped you over, face down ass up, his hands grabbing at your flesh, squeezing it till it accepted the marks of his fingers.

a resounding smack echoed through the room as sasuke's hand connected with your ass, leaving a vivid red imprint. you let out a startled yelp, instinctively trying to pull away, but he held your hair fast, his grip unyielding, making you cry out.

sasuke delivered another stinging blow, harder than the first. it was clear now that you were enjoying this humiliation just as much as he was. his relentless spanking continued, each blow landing with precision and force.

he slid a finger between your thighs, seeking out your slick heat. he groaned at the discovery of your arousal, even in the midst of punishment.

"masochist," he whispered, as his finger glided effortlessly through your dripping folds, coating itself in your juices. he circled your sensitive clit, applying gentle pressure, and watched you tremble beneath him.

he continued his deliberate, torturously slow strokes along your sensitive skin, pushing you closer to the edge without allowing release.

"who knew you were such a needy slut, getting off on being spanked." he scoffed, watching as your arousal glistened against his finger.

he pushed two fingers inside, stretching your wet cunt. but that's all. he didn't move with his usual speed. instead, he prolonged his ministrations till you were writhing and whimpering.

"tch. all good things to those who wait, y/n..." he murmured in your ear, leaning forward against your back.

"you thought you were entitled to your orgasm just because I touched you?"

sasuke's hand closed around your throat, pulling you up against his chest, your head falling on his shoulder, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse race. his other hand kept pumping his fingers in and out with maddening slowness.

your body began to shudder, signalling your impending climax. so sasuke released your throat and pulled his hand out, provoking a stressed whine at the loss of his touch. he brought his hand to your mouth. he pressed his wet fingers past your lips, demanding you suck them clean of your own arousal. "taste how wet you are for me"

sasuke groaned at the sensation of your warm, wet mouth enveloping his fingers, your tongue swirling around them as you sucked eagerly.

"s-sasuke... please," you whined. "-wanna...come"

with a groan, he pushed those two fingers deep back inside your clenching heat, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot within, pumping in and out now at a frenzied pace.

he added a third finger, stretching you open as he worked you towards climax, his thrusts becoming more urgent. you just moaned as he fucked you hard with his fingers. "f-fuc...fuck"

your needy moans and desperate curses only fuelled his own arousal, his cock throbbing with the need to be buried deep inside you.

with a final, brutal thrust, sasuke sent you careening over the edge. your pussy clenched rhythmically around his digits as you came hard, waves of pleasure crashing through.

"shit..." he breathed, withdrawing his fingers to bring them to his lips. he licked them clean, savouring the taste of your release.

you turned around to face him, your hardened nipples brushing against his chest, hands clawing at his shoulders. "please, sasuke... fuck me."

his hands roamed your curves, palming your breasts roughly before pinching and tugging at your nipples.

"such a greedy little slut, always begging for more," he sneered, his thumbs rolling over the sensitive peaks.

"please..." you whined like a bitch in heat, draping your hands around his neck. "you can fuck me raw, just please... fuck me"

he didn't have to be told twice. that's all he wanted.

he pushed you down onto the bed as the mattress dipped under your weight. he slapped your thighs, parting them. he stepped between them, aligning his throbbing member with your soaked entrance. he taunted, the head of his cock nudging against your clit, "nasty slut. begging to be fucked senseless, to have your insides stretched and pounded until you can't remember your own name. yeah?"

"screw my name... i'll remember yours" you moaned as his cock teased your folds.

a wicked grin spread across sasuke's face at your defiant declaration, your moan of anticipation fuelling his lust. with a single, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside you, burying his cock to the hilt.

"fucking perfect," he groaned, his eyes rolling back momentarily from the intense sensation of being encased in your tight, slick heat.

"your cunt was made for me."

sasuke set a relentless pace, pounding into you with brutal force, each snap of his hips sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through both of you. the bed creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with your ragged breaths and the obscene slap of skin on skin. his pace never faltered, his cock plunging into your welcoming depths with ruthless precision. the wet squelch of your sex filled the room, a symphony of debauchery that only heightened his desire.

"s-sasu-ke" you muttered, your voice breaking as he pounded into you.

"what, slut?" he hissed, not really wanting to have a fucking conversation when his cock was buried inside you.

you looked into his eyes, and asked, shamelessly, yet so... pathetically "slap me... please..."

for a moment, sasuke froze, his cock still buried deep inside you as he processed your unexpected request. then, with a snarl of disbelief, he pulled back and brought his hand down in a sharp slap across your cheek.

"there, happy now?" he spat, his palm tingling from the impact. "is that what gets you off, being treated like a piece of shit?"

he didn't wait for your response, his chest heaving with exertion and anger, ready to deliver another blow if needed. but a part of him, the darker, more twisted aspect of his nature, revelled in the power he held over you, in the ability to inflict pain and degradation on someone who craved it just as much.

the way you moaned and clenched around him told him what he wanted to know.

sasuke's eyes narrowed, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he realised the true extent of your masochistic desires. he leaned in closer, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispered.

"you're such a sick fuck, aren't you? getting off on being abused, degraded..."

without warning, he delivered another stinging slap to your other cheek, the sound echoing through the room. your cries of pleasure only spurred him on, his cock twitching with renewed arousal.

shit, you were so turned on. sasuke couldn't believe his eyes. you were his most twisted fantasy come true. he'd always been drawn to violent sex. his previous hook ups, one-night-stands had been crybabies. so were you, but you were sensitive in a way that was carnally beautiful.

"you're perfect," he rasped, his fingers curling possessively around your throat as he pulled you into a brutal kiss, tasting the salt of your tears on your lips.

"a depraved little slut, just like me." with a low growl, sasuke surged forward once more, driving his cock into your clenching depths with reckless abandon.

on the brink of orgasm, he fucked you manically, pulling out at the last minute to spill all over your stomach, watching you come undone just as fast.

he looked at your blissed out state, flushed cheeks, dreamy eyes, lips parted to gasp for air. you innocent, almost ethereal appearance in the aftermath of your debauchery struck a chord within him, awakening a facet of his psyche he had long suppressed.

"why do you have to be so damn beautiful?" he murmured aloud, his thumb brushing gently over your plump lower lip.

the sight of you lying on the bed so... devoid of caution sent a pang of connection, of something deeper than mere physical attraction. it was fleeting, a momentary lapse in his emotional armour, but it left him oddly disarmed.

your fingers pushed away the damp strands of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"beholder..."

"don't expect me to go soft. you're mine to fuck. we're not... anything," he said, a hint of his usual steel creeping back into his tone.

you smiled, "aw... acting like i don't use you too."

a faint, wry smile tugged at the corner of sasuke's mouth at your playful retort. you was right, of course. your "relationship", such as it was, operated on a mutual exploitation of each other's desires. he enjoyed using your body, but you clearly got off on submitting to his darker impulses.

"i suppose we're evenly matched in that regard," he acknowledged, his fingers intertwining with yours.

"it's not... bad," he admitted. "but don't ask for anything more than sex."

you looked at him, your gaze steady and pensive as opposed to his, which was a tornado of uncertainty.

"sasuke, don't act like you haven't already shown me you're capable of more than that. i don't mind the sex, the making out, the touching. but i'm human. not a sex doll. if you just want a hole to put your dick in, buy a donut. don't fuck with who i am because you're afraid of human connection."

sasuke held back a flurry of insults, letting you continue.

"your boundaries won't be violated. but there's a standard to the people i tolerate. if you plan to treat me like shit outside of the sex, end this, and go find someone else."

sasuke's jaw clenched at the implication, a flicker of defensiveness sparking in his eyes. the notion that he fell short of your standards, that he was somehow lacking, grated against his proud nature. but he pushed aside the irritation, recognising the validity of your expectations.

he reached out, tilting your chin up to force eye contact, his grip firm but not painful. "i'm not that heartless. but understand me clearly, y/n. i'm not capable of providing what you might crave emotionally. my heart is closed off, and it won't change for anyone, including you."

"you trynna convince me or yourself?"

"don't put words into my mouth."

"ever the pessimist, aren't you? you speak as though you'd rather end this right now, but you act as if you'd do this for hours."

"fine," he snapped, his patience wearing thin.

"maybe i do enjoy your company more than i should. but that doesn't change the fact that i'm not equipped to handle emotional relationships." sasuke's gaze turned introspective, a shadow of regret passing over his features. he hated admitting weakness, but your probing had forced him to confront the chasm between his actions and his professed beliefs.

"i'm torn, y/n."

you gently traced his face, his straight nose, his lips, his chin. "who isn't..."

he warned, his voice low and husky. "touching me like that... it's dangerous. i'm not built for this kind of intimacy."

despite his words, sasuke made no move to pull away, his body responding eagerly to your subtle advances. he was acutely aware of every point of contact, the electric tension crackling between you like a live wire.

"sasuke..." you said his name softly, like a prayer, "if you're brave enough to fuck me like you just did, slap me, and degrade me... then you're brave enough to feel this touch"

"fuck you," he snarled.

you kiss the tip of his nose, "done"

sasuke's eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "bitch..."

despite his protestations, sasuke couldn't suppress a small, pleased smile. there was something undeniably charming about your carefree nature. perhaps that's how you were able to calm down his growling doberman.

#sasuke #uchiha #sasuke x reader #sasuke x y/n #naruto au #uchiha clan #fugaku #mikoto #itachi #n-sfw

19 notes · View notes

fanaticmorelikefantastic · 2 months ago

Note

What are your thoughts on yuka and their gender and sexuality? Cuz in the early chapters they seem to align themselves somewhat with being as a gay man who dresses like a woman because of the conversation in chapter 6, after Yatora goes to the museum with Hashida and Yotasuke.

Yatora: "...Did you tell him you're a guy?"

Yuka: "I did."

Yatora: "...Right. I mean, anyone would be suprised if they found out someone they thought were a girl was actually a guy in drag."

Yuka: "I know that."

Yatora: "...Well, I dunno... at least he hugged you in the end. That's good, isn't it?" (I also want to mention how he seems to pause while talking about this. I always had mixed thoughts on Yatora referring to Yuka as Ryuji ((and also because in the first chapter they ask him not to call them by that name)) and he/him pronouns because I wasn't entirely sure on Yuka's own identity)

Yuka bursts into tears and sobbing: "Are you kidding me...? It's awful! Ahh! It's the absolute worst! He never would have done that to a girl!"

(Skipping some dialogue) Yuka: "He hugged me and was like: 'I'm... normal. You understand, don't you?'"

This part of the conversation is so interesting to me because it's starts to mislead you into thinking Yuka is a boy before hitting you with this:

Yatora: "... With your good looks, you'd have better luck dressed as a guy. You're already popular with the girls..."

Yuka: "I guess. But if I have to be whatever society's definition of "acceptable" is... I would die."

Like this is so unbelievably trans coded and shows clearly that they have a discomfort of being masculine but they still identify with label of "man" from this line:

"Is it really that strange to want to wear women's clothing? Is there somethinf not normal about wanting to look cute? To look pretty? What's not normal for a man to wanting another man?"

I want to also point out how Yuka seems to align socially with being a transwoman. They seem to know where they stand in line with cis girls because they see Yuka as a prince because they understand "a woman's mind" and do not see girls in a sexual way. They even answer Yatora's question on why girls like them. It's because they're in that area of being just a girl enough to share things like they would with other girls but also something alien to share things they wouldn't share with other women. It's almost like the western stereotype of the gay bestfriend? Haha I don't know if that makes sense.

I know the dub is like dubiously canon but I like how Yuka says "Maybe my love is the only thing that can protect me." Like it refers to their romantic love but also love for themselves and how they express their gender through being feminine. But it also opens a new avenue on their love and expression being almost like a defense mechanism to protect them.

Eventually we see Yuka working as a hostess and being referred to as Yuka-chan and she/her. They're using their looks to pay the bills and leaning further more feminine.

Eventually in the manga they switch from ore (masculine) to atashi (feminine).

Chapter 18

Sorry if this makes like noooo sense I had a lot of stuff I wanted to bring up for this question but it's almost 5am for me and I have a dentist appointment later today LOLL but if you do answer this I'll probably be in your reblogs with the others points I wanted to discuss and ask you about sorry for yapping in ur inbox

No no I totally get it! Yuka is a really interesting character and at least in my opinion Yuka is a man. WAIT WAIT WAIT STAY WITH ME (I'll keep saying they for this post tho!)

I feel like the point if their character is to challenge the idea of traditional gender in the sense of what 'women' wear or what 'men' wear. In Yuka and Yatora's conversation while drawing their nudes, they mention the girl that they always loved. Yatora comments on how they previously confessed to a guy and Yuka expresses that he does also like men, after all that'd make sense with how they look. They dress like a 'woman', so they need to act and love like a woman 'should'. The exact quote would be "If I only liked men, that would've been easy to make sense of" Yatora retorts, saying that it's not understanding if Yuka is forcing themself into a box so other people can understand them easier. This conversation is what shifted my perspective of Yuka from a trans woman to something a little more complicated. I don't claim to know the plights of a trans woman as I'm a boring cis loser, but I do feel that although there is complication and nuance to being transfem, this is slightly different.

It was a little earlier than the conversation I referenced (I think it was during the one you were talking about) that Yuka expresses a level of discomfort in being accepted as a 'girl' by the girls at school. They say they understand and can portray feminine emotion, but they don't claim them. They say those emotions aren't theirs.

These two conversations lead me personally to believe that Yuka stands as a criticism of gender roles in relation to clothes and behavior in society. Who gets to say what is masculine and feminine? Who has the right? If I wear a dress and speak in a high pitch voice and YOU think that's a feminine thing to do does that make me a woman? If I wear short hair and pants does that make me a man? Why does your perception of my actions and behaviors have to define who I am when I'm not you? Small penises and wearing skirts and kissing other men used to be masculine too. Society's views of what counts as being masculine or feminine are arbitrary and stupid. There is no real definition for it and there never will be. If you feel most masculine in a skirt and mascara, hell yeah brother. If you feel most feminine in a buzz and baseball shirt, hell yeah sister.

I started rambling for a second (sorry) but in conclusion, much later in the story, when Yatora is working at the host club, for like, one panel when Yuka is dealing with that annoying customer, they ask if he's making a pass at them, to which he replys, "no, men don't do it for me." To me at least, this feels indicitive of Yuka expressing their manliness with femininity, but I feel that Yuka's gender is ambiguous on purpose. I think for them at least the reader is supposed to get an understanding of the confines of specific gender identification and the impact society has on how people express their gender and sexuality, so the reader can make their own informed conclusion. Mine personally is that they're a bi (possibly pan tbh) fem presenting man.

(Also in reference to the name change I feel that it's more of a cutting away from who their parents define them as and carving their own identity for themselves. There is a trend of this happening among cis women in China lately too.)

#blue period #blue period manga #art #character analysis #yuka chan #ryuji ayukawa #yuka ayukawa #NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR PULLING UP IN MY ASKS ILY #always so happy to yap and read yaps #i also love your analysis too!#i can really appreciate the view of Yuka as transfem bc it makes a lot of sense #but mine fits my own little social gender fashion type perspectives lol #maybe I'm being too selfish with it #ask answered

11 notes · View notes

moths-are-better · 1 year ago

Text

one time I stockpiled a whole bunch of incorrect quotes and I think I should finally post them

Eva: Why are you on fire? Dally: This is just how my day is going.

Eva: We have to plan, we have to figure something out. Yugo: Eva, when have any of our plans ever actually worked? We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose.

Eva: How the hell are you still alive? Ruel: Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are.

Adamai : Don’t weep for the stupid. You’ll be crying all day.

Adamai : What goes up but never comes down? Eva: The amount of stress you're bringing this family.

Yugo, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

Yugo: Is that a gun?! Amalia : It's not what it looks like! Yugo: It looks like a gun! Amalia : Okay, maybe it is what it looks like, but in my defense, it doesn't have anymore bullets, so I technically can't shoot it anymore. Yugo: ...ANYMORE?!

Adamai , singing: He's making a list, checking it twice, gonna find out who's on thin fucking ice Amalia , also singing: Santa Claus is calling you out!

Adamai : Can I borrow five dollars? Yugo: If you’re only borrowing it, does that mean you’ll pay me back? Adamai : Of course. Adamai : Not directly, but with my love and affection. Yugo: So that’s a no.

Adamai : STOP! *Everyone stops* Adamai : wAiT a MiNuTe-

Cop: What are your names? Yugo: Don't tell them, Amalia . Cop, writing: Amalia ... Yugo: Crap. Amalia : Nice going, Yugo. Cop: Amalia : Uh oh.

Adamai : That's it, I'm cutting off the internet! Yugo: No, please don't! I have a family to feed! Adamai : Adamai : What? Yugo: I need to feed my Neopets!

Ruel: You know, I used to play back in my gory days. Dally: You mean glory days? Ruel: Ah, that too.

Yugo: .. .----. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- [translation: I’M SORRY] Amaila: What's that? Yugo: Remorse code. Amaila: I'm even angrier now.

Yugo: Amaila and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's- Amaila: Sentences. Yugo: Don't interrupt me.

Yugo: What’s up guys? I’m back. Amaila: What the- you can’t be here. You’re dead. I literally saw you die. Yugo: Death is a social construct.

Amalia : You're violent. Yugo: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

Yugo: Amalia and I are no longer dating. Amalia : Yugo, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

Yugo: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back. Amaila: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself.

Yugo: How petty can you get? Amaila: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Chibi: You need a hobby. Yugo: I have a hobby! Chibi: Hitting Quilby isn't a hobby.

Eva: Guys, I’ve been meaning to tell you… Dally and I are dating. Dally, Adamai, Amalia , and Yugo: *gasp* Eva: Dally, why are you surprised?!

Amalia : Dally! For the love of god, please turn down that music. I have a hangover. Dally: *blasting the mii theme at full volume* That sounds like a you problem, not a mii problem.

Amalia : Dally, this morning, I called you abhorrent and reprehensible, and I’d like to withdraw that statement- Dally: Aww, thanks- Amalia : But I can't. Those are the 2 words that best describe you.

*Dally is fighting a monster* Adamai: Just stay calm! You already have everything you need to beat it! Dally: The power to believe in myself!? Adamai: No, a knife! Stab it!

I have more so I’ll post them eventually

#I’ve had some of these for months #wakfu #ankama #wakfu yugo #yugo wakfu #wakfu amalia #eliatrope council #wakfu s4 #Wakfu incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #wakfu dally #wakfu tristepin #wakfu percedal #wakfu evangelyne #amalia wakfu #amalia sheran sharm #wakfu yugo x amalia #yugo #yugo sheran sharm

94 notes · View notes

edupunkn00b · 1 year ago

Text

Two Truths and All Lies

Photo by Javier Quiroga on Unsplash

WC: 1692 - Rated: T - CW: alcohol, a wee bit of innuendo, Janus' defense mechanism on full display - [ AO3 ]

Remus set up his best friend Logan with his new friend Janus.

Written for Day 1 of @loceitweek 2024, off a prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting, #1101: "I am not the right person for you." "You're doing a bad job of convincing me of that."

Resisting the temptation to check his watch for the third time in half as many minutes, Logan closed his eyes and took a long draw of his wine. His blind date was over twenty minutes late.

And Logan had been waiting for thirty.

“Trust me, Lo Lo,” Remus had laughed when Logan had expressed uncertainty about the wisdom of going on a date with someone he’d never met. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

Logan began to count on his fingers. “The first I recall was In the second grade when you suggested I write my corrections in our Rabbit Reader books. Next was later that same year when—”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Remus shook his head and laughed again. “This guy’s perfect for you. He’s hot, but not in a boring Ken doll way. He’s so smart he can talk circles around the judges down at the ninth circuit and he’s available. Unlike—”

“Ah!” One hand raised, Logan shook his head. “You pledged never to mention that again.”

“Sorry,” he said, a moment of sincerity from his mess of a friend.

Inclining his head, Logan dismissed the moment and returned to their earlier debate. “What I don’t understand is if this man is as wonderful as you are making him out to be, why aren’t you dating him?”

Hand pressed to his chest, Remus put on a mask of hurt outrage. “You think I’m so hard-up I wouldn’t want to introduce you first?”

Logan crossed his arms, both eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he’d admitted with a sigh. “Ro dated him back in college. Bro code, I can’t touch him with a fifty foot pole.” Remus cackled. “Or a ten inch one.”

Shaking his head, Logan hadn’t been able to hold back a bark of laughter. “Especially with a ten inch one.”

A figure approached, walking between him and the setting sun. The movement cast a long shadow over the table and, backlit in soft pinks and gold, the new arrival appeared only as a silhouette.

It appeared his date had finally arrived.

Logan rose and offered his hand to shake when the man—the broad shoulders and low hum seemed right. “Good evening, I’m Logan Sanders. Are you Janus?”

He inclined his head, dipping his face into the candlelit centerpiece. The light made his features glow, calling attention to the heavy scarring over the left half of his face. “Janus Forrd,” he said, accepting Logan’s hand briefly before his eyes trailed up and down his form. “Well, I am relieved to see I am not underdressed.”

“Since when are french cuffs and a necktie casual wear?” Logan snapped before he could stop himself.

Janus chuckled. “Since I stopped buying my clothes off the rack at Penney’s.” His sleeves billowed elegantly as he took his seat, legs crossed under the table.

Biting back an additional indigent response, Logan straightened his tie and smoothed down the lapels of his jacket. Janus merely smirked up at him. “Are you planning on standing all evening? You must have more stamina than you look.”

The server saved him from saying something he might regret. “What can I start you gentlemen with tonight?”

Packaging up his frustration, Logan vowed to share it all with Remus later tonight. Of all the nights for him to play one of his pranks. He took a slow, measured breath and smiled up at the server. “Another glass, please,” he said, tapping the stem of his goblet.

“Yes, sir.” The server made no mention of Janus’ tardiness, but did give Logan a small nod and a smile. “And what can I bring you, sir?” he said to Janus.

“Water for me,” he said, looking askance at Logan’s empty wine glass. “I never indulge on a first date.”

“Very good, sir,” the server said, glancing quickly at Logan before retreating to the sommelier station behind the bar.

When Logan turned back to his companion, he found Janus sitting forward, fingers threaded and supporting his chin. He smiled, eyes never budging from Logan’s face, a cat in front of an open bird cage.

Logan was briefly tempted to leave then. But he’d been told more than once that he made a terrible first impression and he valued the friends who’d bothered to see past his own quirks. Perhaps this man, this friend of Remus’ even, deserved the same.

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Logan offered, consciously relaxing his shoulders from their position up at his ears.

“We may have,” Janus concurred with a slow nod of his head. “And how would you propose we find out way onto the right foot?”

“Perhaps you could tell me something about yourself?” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. “Remus tells me you also practice law.”

“Hmph,” he hummed as the server brought their drinks. “Most people in your position choose to ask me about my scar.” Janus watched him over his water glass, the refraction emphasizing the streaks of red surrounding his left eye and the tight, rough skin splashed over his jaw and his cheekbone.

“While I readily admit a certain curiosity, I trust you will share your personal history in accordance with your level of comfort.” He shrugged. “To do otherwise would be… crude.” Logan frowned, dissatisfied with his imprecision.

“Interesting,” Janus leaned back in his chair, one arm draped artfully over the back rest. “I find such vulnerable honesty refreshing…” He took a slow sip of his water. “Unusual, even.”

Logan hummed and fought another frown. “I find it to be most efficient to be honest and open when meeting a potential romantic partner.”

“Really?” He said, leaning forward and steepling his hands, elbows resting lightly on the table between them. He tapped his lower lip with his fingertips and stared at him for long enough for Logan to wonder if he had somehow missed a question. “I practice the opposite. In fact, this is one the few honest statements I’ve made all evening. On that note—” He signaled their server and gestured toward Logan’s half-empty glass.

“Please bring us a bottle of whatever my companion is drinking.”

“That’s absurd. You don’t even know if you’d like it.”

“You appear to be and I trust your taste.”

“What?” Logan snapped his jaw shut before anything further could come out while the server was still at their table. He waited, gaze focused on his lap for a slow count to four. When the server left with a curt bow of his head, Logan looked up and adjusted his eyeglasses before speaking again. “I do not know what precisely you hope to accomplish with this little stereotypical alpha male negging pick-up artist… thing,” he finished not with a bang but a fumbled whimper.

“You surprise me, dear Logan,” Janus said, reaching across the table and taking his glass. “I would expect someone of your intellect and observational skills to have already deduced I find this thing to be a more than effective dating strategy.”

Scoffing, Logan took out his wallet and signaled their server but Janus waved him off. Infuriatingly, the man listened to Janus. “Very well, then, the drinks are on you. I am leaving,” he said, pushing back his chair and pushing up to his feet. “It is clear to me that I am simply not the right man for you.”

"I disagree,” he said, that infernal smirk pulling up the unblemished side of his face. “Your wit has the sharpness to draw blood. As I said before, you have remarkable taste in wine.” He savored his wine before winking. “And in men.”

Janus’ eyes wandered over his face before trailing down over his shoulder and chest. “You are just this side of conventionally attractive, classically beautiful, even.”

Logan wished such empty praise was insufficient to heat his cheeks. He wished for world peace, as well.

“See?” Janus said, his smirk softening into a full smile. “Even your blush is fetching.”

Forcing his mouth into a scowl, Logan raised one eyebrow but Janus wasn’t done. “You are seemingly impervious to my undeniable charms and a stickler for accuracy and integrity. You were disarmingly prompt this evening, arriving a full ten minutes before our date was scheduled to begin.”

Logan’s eyes widened at Janus’ implicit admission that he had somehow arrived even earlier.

“I was over there,” he said, gesturing toward the darkened bar without breaking eye contact. “I watched you arrive and assess the venue before subtly slipping the maitre’d a folded bill and obtaining us the best table in the house.” Janus finished his glass and refilled first Logan’s, then his own from the bottle. “Impeccable view,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“I have a view of the water and the rest of the establishment,” Logan corrected. “You have a view of passable recreations of Degauss along a wall badly in need of updated wallpaper.”

“Au contraire,” he chuckled, contemplating the swirling dark liquid in his cup before fixing Logan with his gaze. “I have the best view in the restaurant.”

For all the doublespeak, Logan found himself believing him. At least, believing that Janus spoke the truth for him. He sat back down and picked up his glass. “I am not the right man for you,” he repeated, a crooked smile making its way to his face.

Janus shook his head and held up his glass as if to toast him. “You're doing a bad job of convincing me of that."

Clinking their glasses together, Logan cocked one eyebrow. “Then perhaps I should endeavor to make my point more adamantly.”

Janus raised his glass to his lips, half-obscuring his smile. “Then perhaps you should.”

Drinking their wine, the men stared at each other for a long while and, as the sun set, Logan’s eyes watched light and shadow from the surrounding candles caress Janus’ cheek. Hiding his own smile behind his goblet, he sat back in his chair. “It is abhorrent manners to arrive twenty minutes late to a first date.”

“Hmm? Really,” Janus replied, stretching his free hand across the table and brushing his fingers over Logan’s arm. “Tell me more.”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #ts logan #janus sanders #ts janus #loceit #loceitweek2024 #janus is… well let's just say he doesn't make the best first impression #ts remus #remus sanders #roman is mentioned #surprisingly‚ this is not intruloceit

35 notes · View notes